Commodore Junk — page 29: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

22 COMMODORE JUNK. “ And don’t like pretty girls, of course,” sneered tks captain. “ Sailors never do.” “T suppose I’m a man, Jem,” said Humphrey, “and like pretty girls; but I hope I should never be such a scoundrel as to make a girl miserable by professing to care for her, and then throwing her away like a broken toy.” “ Scoundrel, eh?” said the captain, hotly. “Yes. Scoundrel—confounded scoundrel!” retorted the lieutenant. ‘‘ We're ashore now, and discipline’s nowhere, my good cousin, so don’t ruffle up your hackles and set up your comb and pretend you are going to peck, for you are as greata coward now, Jem, as you were when I was a little schoolboy and you were the big tyrant and sneak.” “You shall pay for this, sir,” cried the captain. “Pish! Now, my good cousin, you are not a fool You know I am not in the least afraid of you.” “‘T’ll make you some day,” said the captain, bitterly. “ You shall smart for all this.” “NotI. Itis you who will smart. There, go and marry your rich wife, and much happiness may you get out of the match! Im only troubled about one thing, and that is whether it is not my duty to tell the lady—poor creature !—what a blackguard she is going to wed.” Captain James Armstrong altered the sit of his co «ed hat, brushed some imaginary specks off his new uniform, and turned his back upon his cousin, ignoring the extended hand. But he did as he was told—he went and was duly married, Lieutenant Humphrey being present, and walking close behind, to see just outside the church door the flashing eyes and knitted brow of Mary Dell on one side; while beyond her, but unseen by Humphrey, were her brother Abel, and Bart, who stood with folded arms and a melodramatic scowl upon his ugly face. “She’s going to make a scene,” thought Humphrey ; and, CoOnniclooolkks