enty years, and I have used my eyes.'

'Better than reading,' said the Duke, humouring the character.

'I'll tell you what,' said the marine, with a knowing look. 'I suspect
there is a d--d lot of lies in your books. I landed in England last
seventh of June, and went to see St. Paul's. "This is the greatest
building in the world," says the man. Thinks I, "You lie." I did not
tell him so, because I am always respectful. I tell you what, sir; maybe
you think St. Paul's the greatest building in the world, but I tell you
what, it's a lie. I have seen one greater. Maybe, ma'am, you think I am
telling you a lie too; but I am not. Go and ask Captain Jones, of the
58th. I went with him: I give you his name: go and ask Captain Jones, of
the 58th, if I be telling you a lie. The building I mean is the
palace of the Sultan Acber; for I have served my king and country
five-and-twenty years last seventh of June, and have seen strange
things; all built of precious stones, ma'am. What do you think of that?
All built of precious stones; carnelian, of which you make your seals;
as sure as I'm a sinner saved. If I ayn't speaking the truth, I am not
going to Selby. Maybe you'd like to know why I am going to Selby? I'll
tell you what. Five-and-twenty years have I served my king and country
last seventh of June. Now I begin with the beginning. I ran away from
home when I was eighteen, you see! and, after the siege of Bhurtpore, I
was sitting on a bale of silk alone, and I said to myself, I'll go and
see my mother. Sure as I am going to Selby, that's the whole. I landed
in England last seventh of June, absent five-and-twenty years, serving
my king and country. I sent them a letter last night. I put it in the
post myself. Maybe I shall be there before my letter now.'

'To be sure you will,' said the utilitarian; 'what made you do such a
silly thing? Why, your letter is in this coach.'

'Well! I shouldn't wonder. I shall be there before my letter now. All
nonsense, letters: my wife wrote it at Falmouth.'

'You are married, then?' said the widow.

'Ayn't I, though? The sweetest cretur, madam, though I say it before
you, that ever lived.'

'Why did you not bring your wife with you?' asked the widow.

'And wouldn't I be very glad to? but she wouldn't come among strangers
at once; and so I have got a letter, which she wrote for me, to put in
the post, in case they are glad to see me, and then she will come on.'

'And you, I suppose, are no