you both,
and would set off the little back parlour. Mahogany tay-chest--inlaid at
top--initials in silver--J. B. to D. and P. D.--two boxes for tay, and
a bowl for sugar in the middle.--Ah! ah! Love me, love my cat! When was
Jacob Bunting ungrateful?--augh!"

"Well, well! will you talk to Dorothy about it?"

"I shall have your consent, then? Thanks, my dear, dear Peter; 'pon my
soul you're a fine fellow! you see, you're great man of the parish. If
you protect her, none dare injure; if you scout her, all set upon her.
For as you said, or rather sung, t'other Sunday--capital voice you were
in too--

"The mighty tyrants without cause Conspire her blood to shed!"

"I did not think you had so good a memory, Corporal," said Peter
smiling;--the cat was now curling itself up in his lap: "after all,
Jacobina--what a deuce of a name--seems gentle enough."

"Gentle as a lamb--soft as butter--kind as cream--and such a mouser!"

"But I don't think Dorothy--"

"I'll settle Dorothy."

"Well, when will you look up?"

"Come and take a dish of tay with you in half an hour;--you want a new
tay-chest; something new and genteel."

"I think we do," said Peter, rising and gently depositing the cat on the
ground.

"Aha! we'll see to it!--we'll see! Good b'ye for the present--in half an
hour be with you!"

The Corporal left alone with Jacobina, eyed her intently, and burst into
the following pathetic address.

"Well, Jacobina! you little know the pains I takes to serve you--the
lies I tells for you--endangered my precious soul for your sake, you
jade! Ah! may well rub your sides against me. Jacobina! Jacobina! you be
the only thing in the world that cares a button for me. I have neither
kith nor kin. You are daughter--friend--wife to me: if any thing
happened to you, I should not have the heart to love any thing else. Any
body o' me, but you be as kind as any mistress, and much more tractable
than any wife; but the world gives you a bad name, Jacobina. Why? Is
it that you do worse than the world do? You has no morality in you,
Jacobina; well, but has the world?--no! But it has humbug--you have no
humbug, Jacobina. On the faith of a man, Jacobina, you be better than
the world!--baugh! You takes care of your own interest, but you takes
care of your master's too!--You loves me as well as yourself. Few cats
can say the same, Jacobina! and no gossip that flings a stone at your
pretty brindled skin, can say half as much. We must no