ame is Bethune. His first name I do not choose to give.

After further questioning, she at last replied:

My first husband's name was John Bethune.

What is the name of your present husband?

That is not your business.

Is he here in court.

He is. He represents me here.

What is his first name?

After a great deal of cross-firing the answer was elicited that it was
George Bethune.

Were you ever married to George Bethune, the one who is now in court?

Objected to by counsel.

Justice Shandley: That is a proper question, and must be answered.

That is my business. He has been my husband for over ten years.

Were you ever married to him?

Objected to. Objection overruled.

I have answered already. I have answered all I am going to do.

Justice Shandley insisted that she must answer the questions, but when
she still refused, almost in a defiant manner, he rose from the bench,
and declared the case dismissed. His action was received with rounds of
applause from the persons assembled.

CHAPTER X.

A MARINER'S WOOING.

_Captain Hazard's Gushing Letters--Breakers on a Matrimonial Lee
Shore--He is Grounded in Divorce Shoals_.

Aforetime, when the mariner was entirely dependent on the winds and the
tides to make his voyage, he was, as everybody knows, a peculiarly
impulsive, generous, faithful and credulous mortal in his love affairs.
Once ashore, he spliced the main-brace, sneered oathfully at
land-lubbers, hitched up his trousers and ran alongside the first
trim-looking craft who angled for his attentions--and his money. These
fine salt-water impulses, begotten of a twelve or fifteen-months'
voyage, have mostly vanished. Steam has greatly revolutionized Jack's
sweet-hearting. He comes to port every fortnight, or so; he wears dry
goods and jewelry of the latest mode; and he marries a wife, or divorces
a wife, with the same conventional _sangfroid_ of any mercantile
"drummer" who travels by railroad. The conjugal history of that
distinguished son of Neptune, Captain Oliver Perry Hazard, now to be
related, haply has a delectable smack of mercantile jack's old-time
methods, mingled with the shrewder utilitarianism of the steamship Jack
of to-day.

Up in the estuary called the Y, and at the mouth of the river Amstel,
lay, some years ago, the good American ship which had safely borne young
Hazard across the Atlantic. He was a handsome, a tall, and a lively
young man of five and twenty; and, with a vi