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sure: a little upon the rosewood tinge, but beautifully polished, and a very nice piece of furniture for a cottage ornée, as the French call it. Well, well, it's all past and gone

now.

me.

"But I was very fond of Polly Hackett, and she was of We used to take our little evening walks together through the coffee plantation; very romantic little strolls they were; she in white muslin, with a blue sash and blue shoes; I in a flannel jacket and trousers, straw hat, and cravat; a Virginia cigar, as long as a walking-stick, in my mouth, puffing and courting between times; then we'd take a turn to the refining-house, look in at the big boilers, quiz the niggers, and come back to Twangberry Moss to supper, where old Hackett, the father, sported a glorious table at eleven o'clock. Great feeding it was. You were always sure of a preserved monkey, a baked land-crab, or some such delicacy. And such Madeira! And such Madeira! It makes me dry to think of it!

"I was the man to appreciate it all. The whole course of proceeding seemed to have been invented for my peculiar convenience, and not a man in the island enjoyed a more luxurious existence than myself, not knowing all the while how dearly I was destined to pay for my little comforts. Among my plenary after-dinner indulgences I had contracted an inveterate habit of sitting cross-legged, as I showed you. Now, this was become a perfect necessity of existence to me. I could have dispensed with cheese, with my glass of port, my pickled mango, my olive, my anchovy toast, my nut-shell of curaçoa, but not my favourite lounge. You may smile; but I've read of a man who could never dance except in a room with an old hair-brush. Now, I'm certain my stomach would not digest if my legs were per

pendicular. I don't mean to defend the thing. The attitude was not graceful; it was not imposing; but it suited me somehow, and I liked it.

"Well, one day old Hackett gave us a great blow-out, a dinner of two-and-twenty souls; six days' notice; turtle from St. Lucia, guinea-fowl, claret of the year forty, Madeira à discrétion, and all that. Very well done the whole thing; nothing wrong, nothing wanting. As for me, I was in great feather. I took Polly in to dinner, greatly to the discomfiture of old Belson, our major, who was making up in that quarter; for, you must know, she was an only daughter, and had a very nice thing of it in molasses and niggers. The papa preferred the major, but Polly looked sweetly upon me. Well, down we went, and really a most excellent feed we had. Now, I must mention here that Polly had a favourite Blenheim spaniel the old fellow detested; it was always tripping him up and snarling at him; for it was, except to herself, a beast of rather vicious inclinations. With a true Jamaica taste, it was her pleasure to bring the animal always into the dinner-room, where, if papa discovered him, there I was sure to be a row. Servants sent in one direction to hunt him out; others endeavouring to hide him, and so on; in fact, a tremendous hubbub always followed his introduction and accompanied his exit, upon which occasions I invariably exercised my gallantry by protecting the beast, although I hated him like the devil all the time.

"To return to our dinner. After two mortal hours of hard eating, the pace began to slacken, and a sense of peaceful repose seemed to descend upon our labours. Pastilles shed an aromatic vapour through the room. The well-iced decanters went with measured pace along; conversation, subdued to the meridian of after-dinner comfort, just mur

mured; the open jalousies displayed upon the veranda the orange-tree in full blossom, slightly stirring with the cool sea-breeze.

"Well, it was just the hour when, opening the last two buttons of your white waistcoat-remember, we were in Jamaica-you stretch your legs to the full extent, throw your arm carelessly over the back of your chair, look contemplatively toward the ceiling, and wonder within yourself why it is not all after dinner' in this same world of ours. Such, at least, were my reflections as I assumed my attitude of supreme comfort, and inwardly ejaculated a health to Sneyd and Barton. Just at this moment I heard Polly's voice gently whisper, 'Isn't he a love? Isn't he a darling?'

"Zounds!' thought I, as a pang of jealousy shot through my heart, is it the major she means?' For old Belson, with his bag-wig and rouged cheeks, was seated on the other side of her.

What a dear thing it is!' said Polly.

"It is him!' said I, throwing off a bumper, and almost boiling over with passion at the moment.

"I wish I could take one look at him,' said she, laying down her head as she spoke.

"The major whispered something in her ear, to which she replied:

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"Oh! I dare not; papa will see me at once.'

"The major leaned over, as if to touch her hand, beneath the cloth. I almost sprang from my chair, when Polly, in her sweetest accents, said:

"You must be patient, dear thing, or you may be found out, and then there will be such a piece of work. Though I'm sure, major, you would not betray me.' The major

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smiled till he cracked the paint upon his cheeks. 'And I am sure that Mr. Monsoon'

"You may rely upon me,' said I, half-sneeringly.

"The major and I exchanged glances of defiance, while Polly continued, "Now, come, don't be restless. You are very comfortable there. Isn't he, major?' The major smiled again more graciously than before, as he added: May I take a look?'

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"Just one peep, then, no more!' said she coquettishly. 'Poor dear Wowski is so timid.'

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Scarcely had these words borne balm and comfort to my heart-for I now knew that to the dog, and not to my rival, were all the flattering expressions applied-when a slight scream from Polly, and a tremendous oath from the major, raised me from my dream: 'Take your foot down, sir!' And, ‘Mr. Monsoon, how could you do so?' cried Polly.

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'What the devil, sir, do you mean?' shouted the major. "Oh! I shall die of shame!' sobbed she.

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"By this time the whole table had got at the story, and such peals of laughter, mingled with suggestions for my personal maltreatment, I never heard. All my attempts at explanation were in vain. I was not listened to, and the old colonel finished the scene by ordering me to my quarters, the whole room being one scene of tumultuous laughter from one end to the other. Jamaica after this became too hot for me. The story was repeated on every side, for it seems I had been sitting with my foot on Polly's lap; but so occupied was I with my jealous vigilance of the major I was not aware of the fact until she herself discovered it.

"I need not say how the following morning brought with it every possible offer of amende upon my part. How the

matter might have ended I know not, for, in the middle of the negotiations, we were ordered off to Halifax, where I abandoned my Oriental attitude for many a long day after." -"Charles O'Malley."

Widow Malone

DID you hear of the Widow Malone, ohone!

Who lived in the town of Athlone, ohone?

Oh! she melted the hearts of the swains in them parts,

So lovely the Widow Malone, ohone!
So lovely the Widow Malone.

Of lovers she had a full score, or more,

And fortunes they all had galore, in store;

From the minister down to the clerk of the crown,

All were courting the Widow Malone, ohone!
All were courting the Widow Malone.

But so modest was Mistress Malone, 'twas known,

That no one could see her alone, ohone!

Let them ogle and sigh, they could ne'er catch her eye,

So bashful the Widow Malone, ohone!

So bashful the Widow Malone.

Till one Mister O'Brien, from Clare-how quare!
It's little for blushing they care down there,

Put his arm round her waist-gave ten kisses at laste

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Oh," says he, "you're my Molly Malone, my own!

Oh," says he, "you're my Molly Malone."

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