100 THE OUT- STATION; OR, 



CHAPTER VIII. 



MINOR DELECTABILITIE8 OF OUT-STATION LIFE. 



AND now, most worthy reader, before I chaperon 

 you among the scenes of the Pearl Fishery where, 

 under the protecting shadow of a huge talipot um- 

 brella, we will recline in amicable vicinity, and gently 

 insinuating ourselves (after the way of the world) 

 into the individual affections of a vast pile of oysters 

 heaped up within our reach, will soon become masters 

 of the treasures 



Embalm'd in the innermost shrines of their hearts, 



and afterwards be " shellfish" enough ourselves (that's 

 right, button up your pockets ! *) to leave their plun- 

 dered remains unburied on the plain. I say, before 



* Could you, oh far-sighted reader! (or any body else) 

 ever see the drift or wit of the extremely sapient saw of that 

 lumbering old humbug, Dr. Johnson, "that a man who 



