difficult to cut, hard to polish, and heavy to transport, the expense
was enormous. These two monstrosities of mortuary pomp were the pride of
the parish, and they were familiarly known to us children (and to many
other people) as "the Major's wives."

When we called the cock "the Major," we naturally called the hens "the
Major's wives."

"My dears, I don't like that name at all," said my mother. "I never like
jokes about people who are dead. And for that matter, it really sounds
as if they were both alive, which is worse."

It was during our naughty period, and I strutted on my heels till I must
have looked very like the little brewer himself, and said, "And why
shouldn't they both be alive? Fancy the Major with two wives, one on
each arm, and both as tall as the monuments! What fun!"

As I said the words "one on each arm," I put up first one and then the
other of my own, and having got a satisfactory impetus during the rest
of my sentence, I crossed the parlour as a catherine-wheel under my
mother's nose. It was a new accomplishment, of which I was very proud,
and poor Jem somewhat envious. He was clumsy and could not manage it.

"Oh!" ejaculated my mother, "Jack, I must speak to your father about
those dangerous tricks of yours. And it quite shocks me to hear you talk
in that light way about wicked things."

Jem was to my rescue in a moment, driving his hands into the pockets of
his blouse, and turning them up to see how soon he might hope that his
fingers would burst through the lining.

"Jacob had two wives," he said; and he chanted on, quoting imperfectly
from Dr. Watts's _Scripture Catechism_, "And Jacob was a good man,
therefore his brother hated him."

"No, no, Jem," said I, "that was Abel. Jacob was Isaac's younger son,
and----"

"Hush! Hush! Hush!" said my mother. "You're not to do Sunday lessons on
week-days. What terrible boys you are!" And, avoiding to fight about
Jacob's wives with Jem, who was pertinacious and said very odd things,
my mother did what women often do and are often wise in doing--she laid
down her weapons and began to beseech.

"My darlings, call your nice little hens some other names. Poor old
mother doesn't like those."

I was melted in an instant, and began to cast about in my head for new
titles. But Jem was softly obstinate, and he had inherited some of my
mother's wheedling ways. He took his hands from his pockets, flung his
arms recklessly round her clean collar, and be