“Nuttin easier, if you begin right, miss.  As for de pig, I teach dem wid scaldin’ water.  Wheneber I sees a pig come aft, I gets a little water from de copper, and just scald him wid it.  You can’t t’ink, miss, how dat mend his manners, and make him squeel fuss, and t’ink arter.  In dat fashion I soon get de ole ones in good trainin’, and den I has no more trouble with dem as comes fresh aboard; for de ole hog tell de young one, and ’em won’erful cunnin’, and know how to take care of ’emself.”

Rose Budd’s sweet eyes were full of fun and expectation, and she could no more repress her laugh than youth and spirits can always be discreet.

“Yes, with the pigs,” she cried, “that might do very well; but how is it with those—­other creatures?”

“Rosy, dear,” interrupted the aunt, “I wish you would say no more about such shocking things.  It’s enough for us that Capt.  Spike has ordered them all to stay forward among the men, which is always done on board well disciplined vessels.  I’ve heard your uncle say, a hundred times, that the quarter-deck was sacred, and that might be enough to keep such animals off it.”

It was barely necessary to look at Mrs. Budd in the face to get a very accurate general notion of her character.  She was one of those inane, uncultivated beings who seem to be protected by a benevolent Providence in their pilgrimage on earth, for they do not seem to possess the power to protect themselves.  Her very countenance expressed imbecility and mental dependence, credulity and a love of gossip.  Notwithstanding these radical weaknesses, the good woman had some of the better instincts of her sex, and was never guilty of anything that could properly convey reproach.

She was no monitress for Rose, however, the niece much oftener influencing the aunt, than the aunt influencing the niece.  The latter had been fortunate in having had an excellent instructress, who, though incapable of teaching her much in the way of accomplishments, had imparted a great deal that was respectable and useful.  Rose had character, and strong character, too, as the course of our narrative will show; but her worthy aunt was a pure picture of as much mental imbecility as at all comported with the privileges of self-government.

The conversation about “those other creatures” was effectually checked by Mrs. Budd’s horror of the “animals,” and Josh was called on deck so shortly after as to prevent its being renewed.  The females staid below a few minutes, to take possession, and then they re-appeared on deck, to gaze at the horrors of the Hell Gate passage.  Rose was all eyes, wonder and admiration of everything she saw.  This was actually the first time she had ever been on the water, in any sort of craft, though born and brought up in sight of one of the most thronged havens in the world.  But there must be a beginning to everything, and this was Rose Budd’s beginning on the water.  It is true the brigantine was a