ven up the sea, and
settled down to live in Old Chester; his son, Cyrus, lived with him, and
his languid daughter-in-law--a young lady of dominant feebleness, who
ruled the two men with that most powerful domestic rod, foolish
weakness. This combination in a woman will cause a mountain (a masculine
mountain) to fly from its firm base; while kindness, justice, and good
sense leave it upon unshaken foundations of selfishness. Mrs. Cyrus was
a Goliath of silliness; when billowing black clouds heaped themselves in
the west on a hot afternoon, she turned pale with apprehension, and the
Captain and Cyrus ran for four tumblers, into which they put the legs of
her bed, where, cowering among the feathers, she lay cold with fear and
perspiration. Every night the Captain screwed down all the windows on
the lower floor; in the morning Cyrus pulled the screws out. Cyrus had a
pretty taste in horseflesh, but Gussie cried so when he once bought a
trotter that he had long ago resigned himself to a friendly beast of
twenty-seven years, who could not go much out of a walk because he had
string-halt in both hind legs.

But one must not be too hard on Mrs. Cyrus. In the first place, she was
not born in Old Chester. But, added to that, just think of her name! The
effect of names upon character is not considered as it should be. If one
is called Gussie for thirty years, it is almost impossible not to become
gussie after a while. Mrs. Cyrus could not be Augusta; few women can;
but it was easy to be gussie--irresponsible, silly, selfish. She had a
vague, flat laugh, she ate a great deal of candy, and she was afraid
of-- But one cannot catalogue Mrs. Cyrus's fears. They were as the sands
of the sea for number. And these two men were governed by them. Only
when the secrets of all hearts shall be revealed will it be understood
why a man loves a fool; but why he obeys her is obvious enough: Fear is
the greatest power in the world; Gussie was afraid of thunder-storms, or
what not; but the Captain and Cyrus were afraid of Gussie! A hint of
tears in her pale eyes, and her husband would sigh with anxiety and
Captain Price slip his pipe into his pocket and sneak out of the room.
Doubtless Cyrus would often have been glad to follow him, but the old
gentleman glared when his son showed a desire for his company.

"Want to come and smoke with me? 'Your granny was Murray!'--you're
sojering. You're first mate; you belong on the bridge in storms. I'm
before