He was at home so much evenings, that his lamp consumed more oil in a week than it used to in months; but the old lady cheerfully refilled it, and complained not that the captain's goodness was costly.
The captain brought home a book or two daily, and left them in his room, seeing which, his self-denying hostess carried up the two flights of stairs her own copies of "Clarke's Commentaries," "The Saints' Best," "Joy's Exercises," and "Morning and Night Watches," and arranged them neatly on his table.
Finally, after a few days, Captain Sam seemed to have something to say—something which his usual power of speech was scarcely equal to. Mrs. Simmons gave him every opportunity.
At last, when he ejaculated, "Mrs. Simmons," just as she was carrying her beloved glass preserve-dish to its place in the parlor-closet, she was so excited that she dropped the brittle treasure, and uttered not a moan over the fragments.
"Mrs. Simmons, I've made up my mind to lead an entirely new life," said the captain, gravely.
"It's what I've been hopin' fur years an' years, cap'en," responded the happy old lady.
"Hev you, though? God bless your motherly old soul," said the captain, warmly. "Well, I've turned over a new leaf, and it don't git turned back again."
"That's right," said Mrs. Simmons, with a happy tear under each spectacle-glass. "Fight the good fight, cap'en."
"Just my little game," continued the captain. "'Tain't ev'ry day that a man ken find an angel willin' to look out fur him, Mrs. Simmons."
"An angel! Oh, cap'en, how richly blessed you hev been!" sobbed Mrs. Simmons. "Many's the one that hez prayed all their lives long for the comin' of a good sperrit to guide 'em."