down on the sofa, and crept up the stairs to see what took place. My
father and mother were in these relative positions, and he thus
addressed her:

"I have heard say that a man mustn't thrash his wife with anything
thicker than his own thumb. That's as may be--and I do recollect when
the first lieutenant wanted to cut off the men's hair that the purser
told him that it was felony, under the Act of cutting and maiming. I
don't know whether the first lieutenant would have made a felony or not;
but this I'm sartain of--he'd have made a mutiny. You desarve no mercy,
and you shall have none. This pigtail of mine shall be what I shall use
upon you, and if the colt is heavy, recollect you cut it for yourself;
and as you may not be able to hear what I say by the time I have done
with you, I'll just tell you now. I'll point the end, and work a mouse
on this pigtail of mine, and never part with it. I'll keep it for your
own particular use, and for nobody else's; and as sartain as I come
back, so sartain every time I come you shall have a taste of pigtail
without _chewing_', my lady's ladies' maid."

Having made this uncommon long speech, to which my mother offered no
reply, her eyes being fixed in terror upon the brandished tail, which
was nearly as thick as her own arm, my father proceeded to put his
threats into execution. Blow resounded after blow; my mother's cries
became feebler and feebler, until at last she appeared senseless. Then I
ran to my father, and, clinging to his leg, cried, "Oh, father, she's
dead!"

This observation induced him to leave off. He looked at my mother's
face; her eyes were closed, and her jaw had fallen. "Well, she had
enough of it this time," said my father, after a pause; "maybe too much