trade slip. Yes, by my buttons, I made a good thing of it when at
the head of my regiment in Mexico." This the major said by way of
softening the fishmonger's generosity; but that honest-minded
individual replied in the following laconic manner: "Bin in Mexaki,
eh? Darn'd if I'd like to bin there."

The major, not at all pleased with the unimpressable nature of the
fishmonger, said, somewhat curtly, that no one cared whether he
would or not. "However, here's at you for a trade," continued the
major, adding that generosity was the surest road to fortune. And
having bid him hang another cod to his steelyards, he drew from his
stock a small tin strainer, with which he offered to make a square
exchange for the fish. "Say the word, and it is done!" ejaculated
the major, patting the other upon the shoulder. The fishmonger shook
his head, and looked askant at the major, as if to say he would
rather be excused. The major now, out of sheer generosity, as he
said, and anxious, no doubt, to sustain the character of military
men, threw in a pint of number four shoe pegs, which article was
among his wares, and which he was ready to swear by his military
honor the people of Connecticut raised Shanghai chickens on. The
fishmonger said he did not know exactly what to do with the shoe
pegs; but as a New Englander was never at a loss to find a use for
every thing, and not wanting to be hard with a fellow trader, he
would call it a bargain. They now mounted their respective teams,
and drove on in opposite directions.

A little red house, half buried under a hill side, interspersed with
scrubby trees and blackberry vines, now appeared in sight. This the
major described as the house of his dear good friend, Mrs.
Trotbridge, the widow of three husbands, and yet so young in feeling