and his dread of speculation. At once he consulted our Colonel
Gundry, who met him by appointment at Sacramento; and Uncle Sam having
a vast idea of the value of land in England, which the Major naturally
made the most of, now being an English land-owner, they spent a most
pleasant evening, and agreed upon the line marked out by Providence.

Thus it was that he came home, bringing (by kind arrangement) me, who
was much more trouble than comfort to him, and at first disposed to be
cold and curt. And thus it was that I was left so long in that wretched
Southampton, under the care of a very kind person who never could
understand me. And all this while (as I ought to have known, without
any one to tell me) Major Hockin was testing the value and beating the
bounds of his new estate, and prolonging his dinner from one to two
courses, or three if he had been travelling. His property was large
enough to afford him many dinners, and rich enough (when rightly
treated) to insure their quality.

Bruntsea is a quiet little village on the southeast coast of England, in
Kent or in Sussex, I am not sure which, for it has a constitution of its
own, and says that it belongs to neither. It used to be a place of size
and valor, furnishing ships, and finding money for patriotic purposes.
And great people both embarked and landed, one doing this and the other
that, though nobody seems to have ever done both, if history is to be
relied upon. The glory of the place is still preserved in a seal and
an immemorial stick, each of which is blessed with marks as
incomprehensible as could be wished, though both are to be seen for
sixpence. The name of the place is written in more than forty different
ways, they say; and the oldest inhabitant is less positive than the
youngest how to spell it.

This village lies in the mouth, or rather at the eastern end of the
mouth, of a long and wide depression among the hills, through which a
sluggish river wins its muddy consummation. This river once went far
along the sea-brink, without entering (like a child who is afraid to
bathe), as the Adur does at Shoreham, and as many other rivers do. And
in those days the mouth and harbor were under the cliff at Bruntsea,
whence its seal and corporation, stick, and other blessings. But three
or four centuries ago the river was drawn by a violent storm, like a
badger from his barrel, and forced to come straight out and face the
sea, without any three miles of dalliance