at me, with a feeble appeal for sympathy in his expression.
Oftentimes he sighed deeply, and related anecdotes redolent of "red
salmon" and "deer flesh," "strawberries as big as teacups" and "peaches
as big as pint bowls," in places where he had sailed.

Once, he ventured to remark, apologetically, referring to the beans and
pumpkins, that "bein' sich a mild winter, somehow he didn't hanker arter
sech bracin' food, and he guessed he'd go over to Ware'am, and git some
pork."

"Wall, thar' now, pa!" said Grandma; "seems to me we'd ought ter consider
all the fruits o' God's bounty as good and relishin' in their season."

"I call that punkin out of season," said Grandpa, recklessly. "Strikes me
so."

"I was talkin' about fruits. I wasn't talkin' about punkins," said
Grandma, with derisive conclusiveness.

"Wall," said Grandpa, very much aroused, "if you call them tarnal white
beans the fruits of God, I don't!"

"Don't you consider that God made beans, pa?"

"No, I don't!"

"Who, then--" continued Grandma, in an awful tone--"do you consider made
beans, pa?"

Grandpa's eyes, as he glared at the dish, were large and round, and
significant of unspeakable things.

"Bijonah Keeler!" Grandma hastened to say; "my ears have heard enough!"

As for Grandma, neither her appetite, nor her spirits, flagged. In spite
of her confirmed habit of tantalizing Grandpa--and this was from no
malevolence of motive, but simply as the conscientious fulfilment of a
sacred religious and domestic duty--she was the most delightful soul I
ever knew.

At supper, it was a habit for her to sit at the table long after we had
finished our meal, and to continue eating and talking in her slow,
automatic, sublimely philosophical manner, until not a vestige of
anything eatable remained, and then as she rose, she would remark,
simply, with a glance at the denuded board:--

"It beats all, how near you guessed the vittles to-night, daughter!"

Then Grandma resorted to an occasional pastime, harmless and playful
enough in itself, yet intended as a special means of discipline for
Grandpa, and certainly, a source of great torment and anxiety to that
poor old man.

Between the hours of eight and nine P.M., Grandma would deftly glide out
of the family circle, and be seen no more that night. At bedtime, Grandpa
would begin the search, while Madeline and I ungenerously retired.

In the privacy of my own chamber, I could hear the old Captain tramping
de