ve no seed and only five shillings to spare."

"Well, my friend," said La Certe, "fish is very scarce just now, but you
may have five goldeyes for your five shillings."

"O! that is too much," remonstrated the Switzer.

"No, no," interrupted the half-breed, amiably, "by no means--but if you
really think it too much fish for the money I will give you four
goldeyes!"

"Come, you know I don't mean that," returned the other, with a cynical
smile. "Make it six, and I will agree. And here is a pinch of snuff in
to the bargain."

He pulled out a box as he spoke, and opened it.

"Ha!" said La Certe, helping himself. "I love snuff, and so does my
wife. Do you not?"

Slowfoot answered, "Hee! hee!" and helped herself to as much as a good
broad finger and thumb could grasp, after which she sneezed with
violence.

"Now, behold! my friend--a-wheesht!" said La Certe, sneezing a bass
accompaniment to Slowfoot's treble. "I will give you a catfish--a whole
catfish for--a-wheesht!--for that box and snuff."

The Switzer shook his head.

"Nay," he said. "The snuff you may have, but the box was the gift of a
friend, and I am loath to part with it. Besides, the box is of little
real value."

"You may have the head of the catfish for the snuff, and the whole
catfish for the box," said La Certe, with the firmness of a man who has
irrevocably made up his mind--for there are none so firm of purpose as
the weak and vacillating when they know they have got the whip-hand of
any one! "And, behold! I will be liberal," he added. "You shall have
another goldeye into the bargain--six goldeyes for the five shillings
and a whole catfish for the box and snuff--voila!" The poor Switzer
still hesitated.

"It is a great deal to give for so little," he said.

"That may be true," said the other, "but I would not see my family
starve for the satisfaction of carrying a snuff-box and five shillings
in my pocket."

This politic reference to the starving family decided the matter; the
poor Switzer emptied his pockets with a sigh, received the fish, and
went on his way, leaving La Certe and Slowfoot to return to their wigwam
highly pleased with their bargain. As must have been noted by the
reader long ere now, this like-minded couple did not possess a
conscience between them--at least, if they did, it must at that time
have been a singularly shrunken and mummified one, which they had
managed to keep hidden away in some dark and exceeding