fist. Hearing all this, I ventured to suggest that it must be an
immense relief to him to sleep on shore in a good, motionless,
solid four-post bed. But, to my surprise, he scoffed at the idea;
said he never slept comfortably out of his hammock; declared that
he quite missed his occasional punch on the head from the ship's
side; and ended by giving a most comical account of all the
uncomfortable sensations he felt when he slept in a four-post
bed. The odd nature of one of the young sailor's objections to
sleeping on shore reminded my husband (as indeed it did me too)
of the terrible story of a bed in a French gambling-house, which
he once heard from a gentleman whose likeness he took.

"You're laughing at me," says honest Foul-weather Dick, seeing
William turn toward me and smile.--"No, indeed," says my husband;
"that last objection of yours to the four-post beds on shore
seems by no means ridiculous to _me,_ at any rate. I once knew a
gentleman, Dick, who practically realized your objection."

"Excuse me, sir," says Dick, after a pause, and with an
appearance of great bewilderment and curiosity; "but could you
put 'practically realized' into plain English, so that a poor man
like me might have a chance of understanding you?"--"Certainly!"
says my husband, laughing. "I mean that I once knew a gentleman
who actually saw and felt what you say in jest you are afraid of
seeing and feeling whenever you sleep in a four-post bed. Do you
understand that?" Foul-weather Dick understood it perfectly, and
begged with great eagerness to hear what the gentleman's
adventure really was. The dame, who had been listening to our
talk, backed her son's petition; the two girls sat down expectant
at the half-cleared tea-table; even the farmer and his drowsy