"Yes I was, Mr Simple, and nearly stranded, but I got off again without much damage."
"How do you mean—were you wrecked, then?"
"Not my ship, Mr Simple, but my peace of mind was for some time; but it's many years ago, when I was first made boatswain of a corvette (during this conversation he was looking through the telescope); yes, there it is," said he; "I have it in the field. Look, Mr Simple, do you see a small church, with a spire of glazed tiles, shining like a needle?"
"Yes, I do."
"Well, then, just above it, a little to the right, there is a long white house, with four small windows—below the grove of orange-trees."
"I see it," replied I; "but what about that house, Mr Chucks?"
"Why, thereby hangs a tale," replied he, giving a sigh, which raised and then lowered the frill of his shirt at least six inches.
"Why, what is the mystery, Mr Chucks?"
"I'll tell you, Mr Simple. With one who lived in that house, I was for the first, and for the last time, in love."
"Indeed! I should like very much to hear the story."