ish
government. In the far West no one any wiser. Resolved to go myself,
upon having a certain sum in ready.

"August 5.--The money raised. Start for Liverpool to-morrow. Require a
change, or would not go. May hit upon a nugget, etc., etc."

Mr. Goad's memoranda of his adventures, and signal defeat by Uncle Sam,
have no claim to be copied here, though differing much from my account.
With their terse unfeeling strain, they might make people laugh who had
not sadder things to think of. And it matters very little how that spy
escaped, as such people almost always seem to do.

"Two questions, Goad, if you please," said Major Hockin, who had smiled
sometimes, through some of his own remembrances; "what has happened
since your return, and what is the name of the gentleman whom you have
called 'M.H.?'"

"Is it possible that you do not know, Sir? Why, he told us quite lately
that you were at his back! You must know Sir Montague Hockin."

"Yes, yes; certainly I do," the old man said, shortly, with a quick
gleam in his eyes; "a highly respected gentleman now, though he may have
sown his wild oats like the rest. To be sure; of course I know all about
it. His meaning was good, but he was misled."

In all my little experience of life nothing yet astonished me more than
this. I scarcely knew whom to believe, or what. That the Major, most
upright of men, should take up his cousin's roguery--all new to him--and
speak of him thus! But he gave me a nudge; and being all confusion, I
said nothing, and tried to look at neither of them, because my eyes must
always tell the truth.

"As to the other point," Mr. Goad went on; "since my embassy failed, we
have not been trusted with the confidence we had the right to expect.
Ours is a peculiar business, Sir: 'Trust me in all, or trust me not at
all,' as one of our modern poets says, is the very essence of it. And
possibly, Major, if that had been done, even your vigor and our sense
of law might not have extorted from me what you have heard. Being
cashiered, as we are, we act according to the strictest honor in
divulging things no longer confided to us."

"Goad, you have done yourself the utmost credit, legally,
intellectually, and--well, I will not quite say morally. If I ever have
a nasty job to do--at least I mean a stealthy one--which God, who
has ever kept me straight, forbid!--I will take care not to lose your
address. I have a very queer thing occurring on my manor--I believe
it i