"'Afore ye gits to lookin' any meachiner,' says she.
"'When I dies,' says I, 'th' inscription on my monniment won't be by no drowndin',' says I; 'it'll be jest plain, "Pestered ter death,"' says I.
"Wal, 't that she began a-boohooin', so in course I told 'er, says I, 'I s'pose I c'n go and have my dagarrier took ef you're so set on it,' says I.
"For with regards t' female grass, major, my exper'ence has all'as made me think o' that man in Scriptur' 't was told to do somethin'. 'No, by clam!' says he, 'I ain't a-goin' to,' and hadn't more 'n got the words outer his mouth afore somehow he found himself a-shutin' straight outer the front door to go to executin' of it.
"When I thinks o' that tex'—an' I ponders on it more 'n what I does on mos' any other tex' in Scriptur'—I says to myself, 'Thar' 's Pharo Kobbe—thar' 's my dagarrier, 'ithout no needs o' goin' nowheres to have it took."
"I should think it would be very nice," I said, "to have somebody wanting your picture.—I am not pressed with entreaties for mine."
Captain Pharo sighed kindly; his pipe was going.
"Poo! poo! hohum! Never mind; never mind.
