I've cast the eyes of indulgence on fine-grown
girls all my life, and it's too late in the day to cast the eyes of
severity on 'em now. I'm seventy-seven, or seventy-eight, I don't
rightly know which. I'm a battered old hulk, with my seams opening, and
my pumps choked, and the waters of Death powering in on me as fast as
they can. I'm as miserable a sinner as you'll meet with anywhere in
these parts--Thomas Nagle, the cobbler, only excepted; and he's worse
than I am, for he's the younger of the two, and he ought to know better.
But the long and short or it is, I shall go down to my grave with an
eye of indulgence for a fine-grown girl. More shame for me, you young
Jezebel--more shame for me!"
The veteran's unmanageable eyes began to leer again in spite of him,
as he concluded his harangue in these terms: the last reserves of
austerity left in his face entrenched themselves dismally round the
corners of his mouth. Magdalen approached him again, and tried to speak.
He solemnly motioned her back with another dreary wave of his hand.
"No carneying!" said old Mazey; "I'm bad enough already, without that.
It's my duty to make my report to his honor the admiral, and I
_will_ make it.
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