offending his digestion on the other—and Brutus
and Cassius were the two trained accomplices
who regularly helped him every day off the horns
of his dilemma. "Very good! very good!" said
the old gentleman, with the most transparent
duplicity. " Tell the cook, my dear, a capital
cream!"

Having placed the wine and dessert on the
table, Magdalen was about to withdraw. Before
she could leave the room, her master called her
back.

"Stop, stop!" said the admiral. "You don't
know the ways of the house yet, Lucy. Put
another wine-glass here, at my right hand—the
largest you can find, my dear. I've got a third
dog, who comes in at dessert—a drunken old
sea-dog who has followed my fortunes afloat and
ashore, for fifty years, and more. Yes, yes; that's
the sort of glass we want. You're a good girl—
you're a neat, handy girl. Steady, my dear!
there's nothing to be frightened at!"

A sudden thump on the outside of the door,
followed by one mighty bark from each of the
dogs, had made Magdalen start. "Come in!"
shouted the admiral. The door opened; the
tails of Brutus and Cassius cheerfully thumped
the floor; and old Mazey marched straight up
to the right-hand side of his master's chair.
The veteran stood there, with his legs wide apart
and his balance carefully adjusted—as if the
dining-room had been a cabin, and the house a
ship, pitching in a sea-way.

The admiral filled the large glass with port,
filled his own glass with claret, and raised it to
his lips,

"God bless the Queen, Mazey!" said the
admiral.

"God bless the Queen, your honour," said old
Mazey, swallowing his port, as the dogs
swallowed the made-dishes, at a gulp.

"How's the wind, Mazey?"

"West and by Noathe, your honour."

"Any report to-night, Mazey?"

"No report, your honour."

"Good evening, Mazey."

"Good evening, your honour."

The after-dinner ceremony thus completed, old
Mazey made Ms bow, and walked out of the
room again. Brutus and Cassius stretched
themselves on the rug to digest mushrooms and made
gravies in the .lubricating heat of the fire. " For
what we have received, the Lord make us
truly thankful," said the admiral. "Go down
stairs, my good girl, and get your supper.
A light meal, Lucy, if you take my advice—
a light meal, or you will have the nightmare.
Early to bed, my dear, and early to rise, makes
a parlour-maid healthy and wealthy and wise.
That's the wisdom of your ancestors—you
mustn't laugh at it. Good night." In those
words Magdalen was dismissed; and so her first
day's experience of Admiral Bartram came to an
end.

After breakfast, the next morning, the
admiral's directions to the new parlour-maid,
included among them one particular order which,
in Magdalen's situation, it was especially her
interest to receive. In the old gentleman's
absence from home that day, on local business
which took him to Ossory, she was directed to
make herself acquainted with the whole
inhabited quarter of the house, and to learn the
positions of the various rooms, so as to know
where the bells called her when the bells rang.
Mrs. Drake was charged with the duty of
superintending the voyage of domestic discovery,
unless she happened to be otherwise engaged—
in which case, any one of the inferior servants
would be equally competent to act as Magdalen's
guide.

At noon the admiral left for Ossory, and
Magdalen presented herself in Mrs. Drake's room, to
be shown over the house. Mrs. Drake happened
to be otherwise engaged; and referred her to the
head-housemaid. The head-housemaid happened
on that particular morning to be in the same
condition as Mrs. Drake; and referred her to
the under-housemaids. The under-housemaids
declared that they were all behindhand, and
had not a minute to spare—they suggested, not
too civilly, that old Mazey had nothing on earth
to do, and that he knew the house as well, or
better than he knew his A B C. Magdalen took
the hint, with a secret indignation and contempt
which it cost her a hard struggle to conceal. She
had suspected, on the previous night, and she
was certain now, that the women-servants all
incomprehensibly resented her presence among
them, with the same sullen unanimity of distrust.
Mrs. Drake, as she had seen for herself, was
really engaged that morning over her accounts.
But of all the servants under her who had made
their excuses, not one had even affected to be
more occupied than usual. Their looks said
plainly, "We don't like you; and we won't
show you over the house."

She found her way to old Mazey, not by the
scanty directions given her, but by the sound of
the veteran's cracked and quavering voice,
singing in some distant seclusion, a verse of the
immortal sea-song—"Tom Bowling." Just
as she stopped among the rambling stone
passages on the basement story of the house,
uncertain, which way to turn next, she heard the
tuneless old voice in the distance, singing these
lines:

"His form was of the manliest beau-u-u-uty,
    His heart was ki-i-ind and soft;
Faithful below Tom did his duty,
    But now he's gone alo-o-o-o-oft—
    But now he's go-o-o-one aloft!"

Magdalen followed in the direction of the
quavering voice, and found herself in a little
room, looking out on the back-yard. There sat
old Mazey, with his spectacles low on his nose,
and his knotty old hands blundering over the
rigging of his model ship. There were Brutus
and Cassius digesting before the fire again, and