sofas. How stupid to have furniture that one's not to make use of!
Give me comfort but it appears that's not to be bought for money."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

HIGH LIFE ABOVE STAIRS, A LITTLE BELOW THE MARK--FASHION FRENCH, VIRTUE,
AND ALL THAT.

Six o'clock was now near at hand, and Mrs Turnbull entered the
drawing-room in full dress. She certainly was a very handsome woman,
and had every appearance of being fashionable; but it was her language
which exposed her. She was like the peacock. As long as she was silent
you could but admire the plumage, but her voice spoilt all. "Now, Mr
Turnbull," said she, "I wish to _h_explain to you that there are certain
_h_improprieties in your behaviour which I cannot put _h_up with,
particularly that _h_of talking about when you were before the mast."

"Well, my dear, is that anything to be ashamed of?"

"Yes, Mr Turnbull, that _h_is--one _h_always sinks them ere particulars
in fashionable society. To wirtuperate in company a'n't pleasant, and
_H_i've thought of a plan which may _h_act as an _h_impediment to your
vulgarity. Recollect, Mr T, when_h_ever I say that _H_i've an
'eadache, it's to be a sign for you to 'old your tongue; and, Mr T,
_h_oblige me by wearing kid gloves all the evening."

"What! at dinner time, my dear?"

"Yes, Mr T, at dinner time; your 'ands are not fit to be touched."

"Well, I recollect when you thought otherwise."

"When, Mr T? 'ave I not often told you so?"

"Yes, lately; but I referred to the time when one Poll Bacon of Wapping
took my hand for better or for worse."

"Really, Mr T, you quite shock me. My name was Mary, and the Bacons
are a good old _H_inglish name. You 'ave their _h_arms quartered on the
carriage in right o' me. That's something, I can tell you."

"Something I had to pay for pretty smartly, at all events."

"The payment, Mr T, was on account of granting _h_arms to you, who
never _'ad_ any."

"And never wished for them. What do I care for such stuff?"

"And when you did choose, Mr Turnbull, you might have consulted me,
instead of making yourself the laughing-stock of Sir George Naylor and
all the 'eralds. Who but a madman would have chosen three harpoons
_saluims_, and three barrels _couchants_, with a spouting whale for a
crest? Just to point out to everybody what should _h_ever be buried in
_h_oblivion; and then your beastly motto--which I _would have_
changed--_`Blubber for ever_!' Blubber indeed! _h_enough