The Forrest City times., 1893-08-04


 spared to drift into such pleasant haven of peace.
 Mrs. Pringle con tinued to knit, as the cat drowsily purred on the captains knee. The captain put down his cup and took up the plan of very snug, two-storied cottage, with veranda running all round it. :" Providence cottage it shall be, Mrs. Pringle;" and he looked about for pipe spill.
 Mrs. Pringle handed him one with something of sigh.
 For more than six months." said the captain. meditatively drawing a long breath and carefully using his little finger for a tobacco stopper-''for more than six months I've been laid up in port, so to speak, and yet in sight and smell of the sea-"
 said Mrs. Pringle, dubiously. And when the fishing boats come in, it's a little bit-eh-strong."
 "Well," said the captain, admiringly, "a trifle, maybe, for delicate lady's nose like yours, Mrs. Pringle; but there's not an unpleasant flavor about it to a man who's spent his life in con- munion, so to speak, with such smells. Why, every port has different smell, and you get to know the lay of the land by it long before you drop anchor"
 ''Aren't you tired of the sight of the sea?" somewhat inconsequently asked Mrs Pringle. again filling the captains cup, which was blue and white, with "A Present from Ventnor" on it in bold, clear characters of green. Mrs. Pringle lived about mile beyond ventnor. in snug little cottage. whose garden ran down to the sea.
 No, ma'am. I ain't," returned the captain, meditatively. '"Cause why Mrs. Pringle? The sea gets into a mans blood and heart and brain. When he goes down to the ships, like wise fishing smacks, it's because he's drawn to it, so to speak. He can't help it. The wonders of the deep are al ways wonders to him, though he's seen them all his days; the harvest of the sea-its dead mems bones, it's coral caves, where, saving your presence, those fish-tailed hussies, the mermaids. sit waiting for you with deceitful mur- murings and delusive songs-is afore him ever in the night watches; every wind that blows, every whale that spouts. is known to him almost as well as its Creator"
 Mrs. Pringle shuddered. "It's a cruel, treacherous thing" she said-''a cruel, treacherous thing. I sometimes .~-L &. En al tNt 1al over my head to shut out the noise. It makes me shudder, and yet can't leave it."
 You're right, Mrs. Pringle." said the captain, drawing his chair little closer to her-''you're right. It is a cruel, treacherous thing. with it's changing winds and hungry. foaming waves, It's never-restIng. never-ending ebb and flow, it's little baby ripples and soft surface a-shining in the sun. And then, when you slide down into it just to feel it's soft touch, why, as like as not" continued the captain, rather ashamed of his oratorical flight-''why, as like as not, there's a shark waiting to grab and drag you down to Davy Jones locker"
 Mrs. Pringle looked frightened, so the captain hastened to reassure her. Its wonderful place is the sea, Mrs. for rubbish. I should like to take two or three of these contractors who've sent in estimates for Providence cot tage and bump lem down into Port Royal harbor, so that Port Royal Tom could just open his jaws and contract for them. One would think I was go- ing to build palace instead of tidy little six-roomed cottage"
 "Ah, but the masterful way in which you rule and direct them, Capt. Bud dle" said Mrs. Pringle, admiringly. ''Youve a natural gift for the ruling of men,"
 Maybe" said the captain, pleasant ly; but that's a different thing from the ruling of women, Mrs. Pringle. You can't clinch any little difference of opinion with handspike when you're arguing with lovely woman. You've got to keep your hand on the helm all the time and not let her know it. "Yes. rejoined Mrs. Pringle, thought fully; women like strong, master ful hand that'n guide them; but they won't be driven"
 The captain shifted himself in his chair Suddenly it dawned upon him that the matter might be one capable of personal interpretation. He had never tried his hand in that direction. It seemed to him that the bowling wind outside, as it blew among the unfinished rafters of the Providence cottage, was ieering at him for his lack of skill in