a schooner, and a ship's spars to a ship, in fit
and fair proportion. In this serious difficulty,
I take my stand on that principle. And my
decision is: give the heaviest of the two babies
to the heaviest of the two women; and let the
lightest then fall, as a matter of course, to the
other. In a week's time, if this weather holds,
we shall all (please God) be in port; and if there's
a better way out of this mess than my way, the
parsons and lawyers ashore may find it, and
welcome."

With those words the captain closed his
oration; and the assembled council immediately
sanctioned the proposal submitted to them, with
all the unanimity of men who had no idea of
their own to set up in opposition. Mr. Jolly
was next requested (as the only available
authority) to settle the question of weight
between Mrs. Smallchild and Mrs. Heavysides,
and decided it, without a moment's hesitation,
in favour of the carpenter's wife, on the
indisputable ground that she was the tallest and the
stoutest woman of the two. Thereupon, the
bald baby, "distinguished as Number One,"
was taken into Mrs. Heavysides' cabin; and the
hairy baby, "distinguished as Number Two,"
was accorded to Mrs. Smallchild; the Voice of
Nature, neither in the one case nor in the other,
raising the slightest objection to the captain's
principle of distribution. Before seven o'clock,
Mr. Jolly reported that the mothers and sons,
larboard and starboard, were as happy and
comfortable as any four people on board ship could
possibly wish to be; and the captain thereupon
dismissed the council with these parting
words:

"We'll get the studding-sails on the ship now,
gentlemen, and make the best of our way to
port. Breakfast, Saunders, in half an hour, and
plenty of it! I doubt if that unfortunate Mrs.
Drabble has heard the last of this business yet.
We must all lend a hand, gentlemen, and pull
her through if we can. In other respects, the
job's over, so far as we are concerned; and
the parsons and the lawyers must settle it
ashore."

But, the parsons and the lawyers did nothing
of the sort, for the plain reason that nothing was
to be done. In ten days the ship was in port,
and the news was broken to the two mothers.
Each one of the two adored her baby, after ten
days' experience of it—and each one of the two
was in Mrs. Drabble' s condition of not knowing
which was which. Every test was tried. First,
the test by the doctor, who only repeated what
he had told the captain. Secondly, the test by
personal resemblance; which failed in
consequence of the light hair, blue eyes, and Roman
noses, shared in common by the fathers, and the
light hair, blue eyes, and no noses worth
mentioning, shared in common by the children.
Thirdly, the test of Mrs. Drabble, which began
and ended in fierce talking on one side and floods
of tears on the other. Fourthly, the test by
legal decision, which broke down through the
total absence of any instructions for the law to
act on. Fifthly, and lastly, the test by appeal
to the husbands, which fell to the ground in
consequence of the husbands knowing nothing about
the matter in hand. The captain's barbarous
test by weight remained the test still—and here
am I, a man of the lower order, without a penny
to bless myself with, in consequence.

Yes! I was the bald baby of that memorable
period. My excess in weight settled my
destiny in life. The fathers and mothers on either
side kept the babies according to the
captain's principle of distribution, in despair of
knowing what else to do. Mr. Smallchild—who
was sharp enough, when not sea-sick—made his
fortune. Simon Heavysides persisted in increasing
his family, and died in the workhouse. Judge
for yourself (as Mr. Jolly might say) how the
two boys born at sea have fared in after-life. I,
the bald baby, have seen nothing of the hairy
baby for years past. He may be short, like Mr.
Smallchild—but I happen to know that he is
wonderfully like Heavysides, deceased, in the
face. I may be tall like the carpenter—but I
have the Smallchild eyes, hair, and expression,
notwithstanding. Make what you can of that!
You will find it come in the end to the same
thing. Smallchild, junior, prospers in the world,
because he weighed six pounds, fourteen ounces,
and three-quarters. Heavysides, junior, fails in
the world, because he weighed seven pounds, one
ounce, and a quarter. There is the end of it,
anyhow; and, if Mr. Hermit's outer crust will
only let him, I recommend him to blush for his
own grievance, whatever it is. As for Mr.
Traveller, if he happens to have any loose silver
about him, I'm not above taking it—and so I
leave you, gentlemen, to settle the argument
between you.

V.
PICKING UP A POCKET-BOOK.

SEVERAL people came in at the gate, not only
when the last speaker had withdrawn, but at
various times throughout the day, from whom
nothing could be extracted by the utmost
ingenuity of Mr. Traveller, save what their calling
was (when they had any), whence they came,
and whither they were going. But, as those who
had nothing to tell, clearly could tell nothing in
justification of Mr. Mopes the Hermit, Mr.
Traveller was almost as well satisfied with them
as with any of the rest. Some of the many
visitors came of a set purpose, attracted by
curiosity; some, by chance, looking in to explore
so desolate a place; many had often been there
before, and came for drink and halfpence. These
regular clients were all of the professed vagrant
order; "and, as I observed to you," Mr.
Traveller invariably remarked with coolness
when they were gone, "are part of the Nuisance."

When any one approached, either purposely
or accidentally, to whom the figure in the blanket
was new, Mr. Traveller, acting as a self-
constituted showman, did the honours of the place:
referring to the Hermit as "our friend in there,"
and asking the visitor, without further explanation