"Here's a
pretty fellow? He is asked to help himself to two uncommonly comfortable
things in their way--a fortune and a wife; he is allowed six months to
get the wife in (we should have got her, in the Navy, bag and baggage,
in six days); he has a round dozen of nice girls, to my certain
knowledge, in one part of the country and another, all at his disposal
to choose from, and what does he do? He sits month after month, with his
lazy legs crossed before him; he leaves the girls to pine on the
stem, and he bothers his uncle to know the reason why! I pity the poor
unfortunate women. Men were made of flesh and blood, and plenty of it,
too, in my time. They're made of machinery now."
"I can only repeat, sir, I am sorry to have offended you," said George.
"Pooh! pooh! you needn't look at me in that languishing way if you are,"
retorted the admiral. "Stick to your wine, and I'll forgive you. Your
good health, George. I'm glad to see you again at St. Crux. Look at that
plateful of sponge-cakes! The cook has sent them up in honor of your
return. We can't hurt her feelings, and we can't spoil our wine.
Here!"--The admiral tossed four sponge-cakes in quick succession down
the accommodating throats of the dogs.
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