which grew
more impassioned as I proceeded, and noticed that the old conger seemed
deeply impressed. As I came to the most affecting parts of my argument
the expression in her eyes grew really tender, and at the mention of
the little blue point a tear gathered in each eye and slowly coursed
down her shiny form. At the conclusion of my appeal the conger drew in a
deep breath and replied:--"Well, I never! Now that is what I really do
call good and kind. Oh pray come and sit down beside me on the sand and
tell me all about it--now do, and tell me what first put it into your
head--it is so very nice to come across a little real sentiment in these
matter-of-fact times." Without waiting for me to proceed she rattled
on:--"Upon my word, you really must have the kindest heart in the
world--but are you quite sure you are comfy? Why not come round the
other side; you'll be out of the wind there, and we can talk it over
without anything to interfere with us. I quite agree with you in
everything you have said, and I must say that I know of nothing more
delightful than to find one's own thoughts expressed so much more
clearly than one could do it oneself. Do you know, I am quite delighted
to have met you, and hope that this is the commencement of one of those
lasting friendships...."

[Illustration: WE COOKED ONE GREAT STEAK]

'Thus she gabbled on, and thinking to myself, here, at last, is a
kind-hearted soul, I asked her to promise to take the baby oyster back
to its sorrowing mother, when she received it from the lobster. "What an
extremely kind thought," she replied; "I assure you there is nothing in
the whole world I would love to do so much as to take the little thing
back to its Ma." Glancing dreamily at the sky the old eel
continued:--"Dear little mite! I can see it even now, in my mind's eye,
as it skips to its mother; she, dear soul, the while shedding pearls of
delight,--a memory to carry to your grave. But I expect you must be
going now--no doubt you are as busy as the rest of us--are they all well
at home?--good-bye," and she prepared to return to the sea. "But, my
dear woman," I protested, "I have not yet received your promise to see
the little oyster home." "Now," said the eel, "pray don't spoil the
pleasant evening we have had--but never mind--don't look so
serious--come round some evening with the wife and children--don't say
you won't." "But, Madam," I answered, "I am waiting for your promise to
see the little one