"Indeed!" replied the colonel; "I'm sorry to hear that. What's the
matter? Has he been beating and ill-treating you?"

"Beating!" exclaimed Mrs. Fogg, disdainfully; "I should think not! I
should like him to try it."

"Maria, let me--" interposed Mr. Fogg, mildly.

"Now, Wilberforce," she exclaimed, interrupting him, "you remain
quiet; I will explain this matter to Colonel Coffin. You see, colonel,
Mr. Fogg is eccentric beyond endurance. He goes on continually in a
manner that will certainly drive me to distraction. I can stand it no
longer. We _must_ be cut asunder. For years, colonel, Wilberforce has
been attempting to learn to play upon the flute. He has no more
idea of music than a crow, but he _will_ try to learn. He has been
practicing upon the flute since 1862, and he has learned but a portion
of but one tune--'Nelly Bly.' He can play but four notes, 'Nelly Bly
shuts--' and there he stops. He has practiced these four notes for
fourteen years. He plays them upon the porch in the evening; he blows
them out from the garret; he stands out in the yard and puffs them;
he has frequently risen in the night and seized his flute and played
'Nel-ly Bly shuts' for hours, until I had to scream to relieve my
feelings."

"Now, Maria," said Mr. Fogg, "you know that I can play as far as
'shuts her eye'--six notes in all. I learned them in the early part of
June."

"Very well, now; it's of no consequence. Don't interrupt me. This is