--not from the vasty
deep, but the adjacent wine-vaults. The two short gentlemen mixed their
grog; and then sat cosily down before the fire--a pair of shorts, airing
themselves.

'Tottle,' said Mr. Gabriel Parsons, 'you know my way--off-hand, open, say
what I mean, mean what I say, hate reserve, and can't bear affectation.
One, is a bad domino which only hides what good people have about 'em,
without making the bad look better; and the other is much about the same
thing as pinking a white cotton stocking to make it look like a silk one.
Now listen to what I'm going to say.'

Here, the little gentleman paused, and took a long pull at his
brandy-and-water. Mr. Watkins Tottle took a sip of his, stirred the
fire, and assumed an air of profound attention.

'It's of no use humming and ha'ing about the matter,' resumed the short
gentleman.--'You want to get married.'

'Why,' replied Mr. Watkins Tottle evasively; for he trembled violently,
and felt a sudden tingling throughout his whole frame; 'why--I should
certainly--at least, I _think_ I should like--'

'Won't do,' said the short gentleman.--'Plain and free--or there's an end
of the matter. Do you want money?'

'You know I do.'

'You admire the sex?'

'I do.'

'And you'd like to be married?'

'Certainly.'

'Then you shall be. There's an end of that.' Thus saying, Mr. Gabriel
Parsons took a pinch of snuff, and mixed another glass.

'Let me entreat you to be more explanatory,' said Tottle. 'Really, as
the party principally interested, I cannot consent to be disposed of, in
this way.'

'I'll tell you,' replied Mr. Gabriel Parsons, warming with the subject,
and the brandy-and-water--'I know a lady--she's stopping with my wife
now--who is just the thing for you. Well educated; talks French; plays
the piano; knows a good deal about flowers, and shells, and all that sort
of thing; and has five hundred a year, with an uncontrolled power of
disposing of it, by her last will and testament.'

'I'll pay my addresses to her,' said Mr. Watkins Tottle. 'She isn't
_very_ young--is she?'

'Not very; just the thing for you. I've said that already.'

'What coloured hair has the lady?' inquired Mr. Watkins Tottle.

'Egad, I hardly recollect,' replied Gabriel, with coolness. 'Perhaps I
ought to have observed, at first, she wears a front.'

'A what?' ejaculated Tottle.

'One of those things with curls, along here,' said Parsons, drawing a
straight line across h