Such were continually the style of admonitions given me by this good old man, and I need not point out to the reader how fortunate it was for me that I had secured such a preceptor.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

     In which is proved the Truth of the Proverb, “When your own House
     is made of Glass, you never should be the first to throw Stones”

One evening, when I went to the shop of the widow St. Felix to purchase some tobacco for my father, she said, “Why don’t your father come himself, Jack?  I want to make his acquaintance, and see how he looks without his pigtail.”

“Why, you never saw him when he had it on,” replied I.

“No, that’s the truth; but still I wish to have a sight of him:  the fact is, I want to laugh at him.”

“Very well, I’ll bring him here; but, recollect, it’s a very sore subject with him,” replied I, “and that you may have a sharp answer.”

“That I’ll take my chance of, Jack,” replied the widow, laughing.

In consequence of this intimation, one evening when my father was walking in the hospital, I persuaded him to call at the shop.

“This is my father, Mrs. St. Felix,” said I.

“Most happy to see him.  What shall I have the pleasure of assisting you to, Mr. Saunders?” said the widow.

“My sarvice to you, marm—­if you please, to two penn’orth of pigtail and a paper of shorts.”

“Much obliged to you, Mr. Saunders,” replied she.  “Sure we’re much indebted to Admiral Lord Nelson for sending us such fine-looking pensioners.  I shouldn’t wonder if I were to choose a husband out of the hospital yet.”

“I’m afeard we’re all too mauled, marm, to suit a pretty young woman like you,” replied my father, very gallantly.

“Thank you for that, Mr. Saunders; but you’re mistaken entirely.  I don’t consider the loss of a leg, for instance, as anything; I never look at men’s legs, and therefore care little whether they are made of wood or not, provided they don’t tread on my corns.”

“Well, marm, I’m glad that you don’t consider a timber toe as any obstacle to matrimony; but, I fear, having a wife already may be considered by you a sort of objection.”

“Why, sure, I must have the whole of my husband; I couldn’t afford to share him, especially when one limb is gone already.  That puts me in mind of my want of manners.  I hope Mrs. Saunders is quite well.  I hear from Jack that you have a separate maintenance—­that’s very genteel.”

“Why, yes, marm,” replied my father; “the King maintains me, and my wife maintains herself; so, as you say, we have a separate maintenance.”

“Well, that’s the best way when married people don’t agree.  What are you laughing at, Mr. Jack? did I hint that your father and mother ever had any little matrimonial differences?  I certainly did hear that there was a trifling dispute when they last parted; but when they bring me such tales I always cut them short.  Here’s your pigtail, Mr. Saunders,” continued the widow, laughing, as she put the tobacco on the counter.