ow," said Mrs. Lester, surveying the bottom of
her gown, "'t I didn't wear my dead-lustre silk."

"Why so, Mis' Lester; why so?" said Uncle Coffin, performing a waltz
with the small remaining contents of the buttermilk jug. "Ef it's a
beauty in her to have her lustre dead, why wouldn't she be still
harnsomer to have her lustre dedder!"

He drew me aside at this, and for some moments we stood helplessly
doubled over with laughter. For the climate serves one the same in
regard to jokes as in food. One is never satiated with them, and there
are no morbid, worn distinctions of taste--an old one, an exceedingly
mild one, have all the convulsive power of the keenest flash from less
healthy and rubicund intellects.

When we had recovered ourselves sufficiently to walk, we went into the
house, arm in arm. There Uncle Coffin seized Captain Pharo again and
threw him delightedly several feet off into a chair.

"Ye're weary, Pharo, dodrabbit ye! Set thar'. Repose. Repose. Wait
'tell the flapjacks is ready. They're fryin'. Smell 'em?"

We perceived their odor, and that of the wild strawberries and coffee
which Mrs. Lester had taken from her circle-basket.

"Why, father," said Aunt Salomy, as we sat at table, giving me a glance
indicative of a beaming conversance with elegant conventionalities; "ye
_shouldn't_ set the surrup cup right atop o' the loaf o' bread.'

"Never mind whar' she sets, mother," said Uncle Coffin gayly, "so long
as she 's squar' amidships."

He would pour out the treacle for us all--for that it was sweeter,
sweeter than any refined juices I ever tasted. No denials, no
protestations would avail to stay the utter generosity of his hand.

The griddle-cakes were of the apparent size of the moon when she is
full in the heavens.

"Come, Pharo, brace up. Eat somethin', dodrabbit ye! Ye're poorin'
away every minute ye're settin' there; ye hain't hauled yerself over
but two yit."

"By clam! Coffin, sure as I'm a livin' man, I've hauled myself over
fourteen," said Captain Pharo seriously.

"Come, come, major; ye're fadin' away to a shadder. Ye hain't hauled
yerself over nothin' yet."

"Oh, I have," I rejoined, with urgent truth and unction. "I can't,
honestly I can't, haul myself over anything more."

In spite of some suggestive winks directed on my behalf, not then
understood, I remained innocently with Mrs. Lester and Aunt Salomy
while they were doing the dishes. But presently through th