marm, you
know all about it, and you may have your laugh if it pleases you; but I
can tell you that my tail has done me better sarvice since it was off
than when it hung down my back."

"Become useful, instead of ornamental, I presume, Mr Saunders."

"Just made this difference--when it was on it made my wife's tongue to
go; now it is off, it has stopped it."

"An extraordinary powerful instrument, to stop a woman's tongue!"

"Well, you've only to ax Mistress Saunders, she'll tell you all its
virtues."

"Well, Mr Saunders, I don't know whether you have any idea of taking
another wife some future day. If so, say nothing about it, or you'll
never get one."

"Well, marm--I don't know whether you ever think of taking another
husband; but if so, I think it would be kind on my part to lend it to
him. Can you tell me why widows' tongues run so much faster than other
women's?"

"Mercy! what put that idea in your head, Mr Saunders?"

"You, and half a dozen more that I happen to know. May I make so bold
as to ask you, marm, how long you may have been a widow?" continued my
father.

"Bless me! so long that I quite forget all about it," replied Mrs St.
Felix, turning away from the counter to the jars behind.

I gave my father a wink to let him know that it was his turn now: he
understood me, hitched up his waistband, and nodded.

"How did you lose your first husband, marm? What did he die of?"

The widow coloured, and my father perceiving it, followed up his
question.

"Did he die of a fever, marm?"

"I'm not exactly sure," replied she, hurriedly.

"May I ask how long it is since he died?" continued my father.

"Oh! Mr Saunders," replied the widow, confusedly, "I really don't
recollect just now. It's very painful to answer such questions."

"Not if you've been a widow so long that you forget all about it; that's
all sham and nonsense. So you ain't sure _what_ he died of, nor _when_
it was that he died? Are you quite sure, marm, that your husband is
dead?"

Mrs St. Felix started, turned very red, and then very pale.

"My sarvice to you for the present, marm," said my father, after a
pause, taking off his hat. "I suspect that I've found a way to stop
your tongue as well as my wife's. Broadside for broadside, that's fair
play."

So saying, my father stumped away out of the shop door. Mrs St. Felix
put her apron up to her eyes, with her elbows resting on the counter. I
waited a little, and then I