"That he did--that he did--and all my arguments and reading could
not teach him any better. I proved to him that it was Whirl-Gate, as
any one can see that it ought to be. It is full of whirlpools, they
say, and that shows what Nature meant the name to be."

"But, aunty," put in Rose, half reluctantly, half anxious to speak,
"what has gate to do with whirlpools? You will remember it is called
a gate--the gate to that wicked place I suppose is meant."

"Rose, you amaze me! How can you, a young woman of only nineteen,
stand up for so vulgar a name as Hell-Gate!"

"Do you think it as vulgar as Hurl-Gate, aunty?" To me it always
seems the most vulgar to be straining at gnats."

"Yes," said Spike sentimentally, "I'm quite of Miss Rose's way of
thinking--straining at gnats is very ill-manners, especially at
table. I once knew a man who strained in this way, until I thought
he would have choked, though it was with a fly to be sure; but gnats
are nothing but small flies, you know, Miss Rose. Yes, I'm quite of
your way of thinking, Miss Rose; it is very vulgar to be straining
at gnats and flies, more particularly at table. But you'll find no
flies or gnats aboard here, to be straining at, or brushing away, or
to annoy you. Stand by there, my hearties, and see all clear to run
through Hell-Gate. Do n't let me catch you straining at anything,
though it should be the fin of a whale!"

The people forward looked at each other, as they listened to this
novel admonition, though they called out the customary "ay, ay,