aid his wife, with
an indignant appearance of scorn.

"I did get lots on 'em, and traded 'em off to the Nabobs in the interior
for Cashmere shawls and India silks and sich," said the Captain,
composedly; "and brought 'em home and sold 'em at a good figure, too."

"Oh, father!" said Sally, earnestly, "I wish you had saved just one or
two for us."

"Laws, child, I wish now I had," said the Captain, good-naturedly. "Why,
when I was in India, I went up to Lucknow, and Benares, and round, and
saw all the Nabobs and Biggums,--why, they don't make no more of gold
and silver and precious stones than we do of the shells we find on the
beach. Why, I've seen one of them fellers with a diamond in his turban
as big as my fist."

"Cap'n Kittridge, what are you telling?" said his wife once more.

"Fact,--as big as my fist," said the Captain, obdurately; "and all the
clothes he wore was jist a stiff crust of pearls and precious stones. I
tell you, he looked like something in the Revelations,--a real New
Jerusalem look he had."

"I call that ar talk wicked, Cap'n Kittridge, usin' Scriptur' that ar
way," said his wife.

"Why, don't it tell about all sorts of gold and precious stones in the
Revelations?" said the Captain; "that's all I meant. Them ar countries
off in Asia ain't like our'n,--stands to reason they shouldn't be;
them's Scripture countries, and everything is different there."

"Father, didn't you ever get any of those splendid things?" said Sally.

"Laws, yes, child. Why, I had a great green ring, an emerald, that one
of the princes giv' me, and ever so many pearls and diamonds. I used to
go with 'em rattlin' loose in my vest pocket. I was young and gay in
them days, and thought of bringin' of 'em home for the gals, but somehow
I always got opportunities for swappin' of 'em off for goods and sich.
That ar shawl your mother keeps in her camfire chist was what I got for
one on 'em."

"Well, well," said Mrs. Kittridge, "there's never any catchin' you,
'cause you've been where we haven't."

"You've caught me once, and that ought'r do," said the Captain, with
unruffled good-nature. "I tell you, Sally, your mother was the
handsomest gal in Harpswell in them days."

"I should think you was too old for such nonsense, Cap'n," said Mrs.
Kittridge, with a toss of her head, and a voice that sounded far less
inexorable than her former admonition. In fact, though the old Captain
was as unmanageable under his wife's fireside