d his vanity on purpose, and she now applied the antidote.

"Supposing you give us two ships, you give yourself a better memorial
than poor Alleyn of Dulwich, or Roan of Greenwich. Dear uncle, a charity
which can be enjoyed by the idle is soon forgotten, and the pious
founder is no more than a weed round the base of his own monument; he
has not even a name. But you may actually see your own memorial working
good long, long before you die, and you may see exactly how things will
go on when your time is over. When you make out your deed of gift, exact
the condition that one vessel must always be called after you, no matter
how long or how often the ships are renewed. Sir James Roche can advise
you about that. Place your portrait in the ship, and make some such
provision as that she shall always carry a flag with your name, if you
want to flaunt it, you proud thing! Then something like, at any rate,
three thousand sufferers will associate your name with their happiness
and cure every year; and they will say in every port in England, 'I was
cured on the _Robert Cassall,'_ or 'I should have lost that hand,' or 'I
was dying of typhoid and our skipper thought I needed salts, but they
cured me on the _Robert Cassall_.' And the great ships will pass your
beautiful ship, and when people ask 'What is that craft, and who is
Cassall?' they will say that Cassall gave of his abundance during his
lifetime, so that seamen might be relieved of bitter suffering; and
those brave men will be so very grateful. And oh! uncle, fancy going out
to sea in your own monument, and watching your own wealth working
blessedness before your eyes. Why, you will actually have all the
pleasures of immortality before you have lost the power of seeing or
knowing anything. Oh, uncle dear, think if you can only see _one_
sailor's limbs saved by means of your money! Think of having a hundred
living monuments of your goodness walking about in the beautiful
world--saved and made whole by you!"

The girl frightened the plucky old gentleman. His voice trembled, and he
said, "Why, we must send you to Parliament! You can beat most of those
dull sconces. Why, you're a no-mistake born orator--a talkee-talkee
shining light! But if you go in for woman's rights and take to short
hair, I shall die, after burning my will! And now you kiss me, my
darling, and don't scare me any more with that witch's tongue." Was ever
millionaire in such manner wooed? Was ever millionaire in