ny's the time I've been lying in my bunk a-twigging the
rats squeaking and coorting overhead, and thinking to myself, Kisses is
skess with you now, Davy."

The wedding came off in a week. There were terrific rejoicings. The
party returned from church in the landau that brought up Davy's luggage.
At the bridge six strapping fellows, headed by the blacksmith, and
surrounded by a troop of women and children, stretched a rope across the
road, and would not let the horses pass until the bridegroom had paid
the toll. Davy had prepared him-self in advance with two pounds in
sixpenny bits, which made his trowsers pockets stand out like a couple
of cannon balls. He fired those balls, and they broke in the air like
shells.

At the wedding breakfast in the barn at Ballavolly Davy made a speech.
It was a sermon to young fellows on the subject of sweethearts. "Don't
you marry for land," said he. "It's muck," said he. "What d'ye say,
Billiam--you'd like more of it? I wouldn't trust; but it's spaking the
truth I am for all. Maybe you think about some dirty ould trouss: 'She's
a warm girl, she's got nice things at her--bas'es and pigs, and the like
of that.' But don't, if you'rr not a reg'lar blundering blockit." Then,
looking down at the top of Nelly's head, where she sat with her eyes in
her lap beside him, he softened down to sentiment, and said, "Marry for
love, boys; stick to the girl that's good, and then go where you will
she'll be the star above that you'll sail your barque by, and if you
stay at home (and there's no place like it) her parting kiss at midnight
will be helping you through your work all next day."

The parting kiss at midnight brought Davy's oration to a close, for a
tug at his coat-tails on Nelly's side fetched him suddenly to his seat.

Two hours afterward the landau was rolling away toward the Castle Mona
Hotel at Douglas, where, by Nell's arrangement, Capt'n Davy and his
bride were to spend their honeymoon.

CHAPTER II.

Now it so befell that on the very day when Capt'n Davy and Mrs. Quiggin
quarreled and separated, two of their friends were by their urgent
invitation crossing from England to visit them, Davy's friend was
Jonathan Lovibond, an Englishman, whose acquaintance he had made on the
coast. Mrs. Quiggin's was Jenny Crow, a young lady of lively manners,
whom she had annexed during her four years' residence at Liverpool.
These two had been lovers five years before, had quarreled and parted