ntsea, and
tell my good and faithful friends what I was loath to write about.
There, moreover, I could obtain what I wanted to confirm me--the opinion
of an upright, law-abiding, honorable man about the course I proposed
to take. And there I might hear something more as to a thing which
had troubled me much in the deepest of my own troubles--the melancholy
plight of dear Uncle Sam. Wild, and absurd as it may appear to people of
no gratitude, my heart was set upon faring forth in search of the noble
Sawyer, if only it could be reconciled with my duty here in England.
That such a proceeding would avail but little, seemed now, alas! too
manifest; but a plea of that kind generally means that we have no mind
to do a thing.

Be that as it will, I made what my dear Yankees--to use the Major's
impertinent phrase--call "straight tracks" for that ancient and obsolete
town, rejuvenized now by its Signor. The cause of my good friend's
silence--not to use that affected word "reticence"--was quite unknown to
me, and disturbed my spirit with futile guesses.

Resolute, therefore, to pierce the bottom of every surviving mystery,
I made claim upon "Mr. Stixon, junior"--as "Stixon's boy" had now
vindicated his right to be called, up to supper-time--and he with high
chivalry responded. Not yet was he wedded to Miss Polly Hopkins, the
daughter of the pickled-pork man; otherwise would he or could he have
made telegraphic blush at the word "Bruntsea?" And would he have been
quite so eager to come?

Such things are trifling, compared to our own, which naturally fill the
universe. I was bound to be a great lady now, and patronize and regulate
and drill all the doings of nature. So I durst not even ask, though
desiring much to do so, how young Mr. Stixon was getting on with his
delightful Polly. And his father, as soon as he found me turned into
the mistress, and "his lady" (as he would have me called thenceforth,
whether or no on my part), not another word would he tell me of the
household sentiments, politics, or romances. It would have been thought
a thing beneath me to put any nice little questions now, and I was
obliged to take up the tone which others used toward me. But all the
while I longed for freedom, Uncle Sam, Suan Isco, and even Martin of the
Mill.

Law business, however, and other hinderances, kept me from starting at
once for Bruntsea, impatient as I was to do so. Indeed, it was not until
the morning of the last Saturday in