ture, that
I scarcely know where to begin."

"Begin by saluting them all round," suggested Fritz.

"But, brother of mine, that is usually done at the end of the
letter," objected Jack.

"What then? you can repeat the salutations at the end, and you might
also, for that matter, put them in the middle as well."

"I have written lots of letters on board ship for my comrades,"
remarked Willis, "and I invariably commenced by saying--_I take a pen
in my hand to let you know I am well, hoping you are the same_."

"What else could you take in your hand for such a purpose, O Rono?"
inquired Jack.

"Sometimes, after this preamble, I added, '_but I am afraid_.'"

"I thought you old salts were never afraid of anything, short of the
Flying Dutchman."

"Yes; but the letters I put that in were for young lubbers, who,
instead of sending home half their pay, were writing for extra
supplies, and were naturally in great fear that their requests would
be refused."

"I scarcely think I shall adopt that style, Willis, even though it
were recognized by the navy regulations."

"Do you think the pigeon will find its way with the letter from here
to New Switzerland?" inquired Willis.

"I have no doubt about that," replied Fritz, "it naturally returns to
its nest and its affections. If you had wings, would you not fly
straight off in the direction of the Bass Rock or Ailsa Craig, to hunt
up your old arm-chair?"

"Don't speak of it; I feel my heart go pit-pat when I think of home,
sweet home."

"So do the birds. When they soften the grain before they throw it into
the maw of their fledgelings--when they fly off and return laden with
midges to their nests--when they tear the down from their breasts to
protect their eggs and their young, do you think their hearts do not
beat as well as yours?"

"But all that is said to be instinct."

"Heart or instinct, where is the difference? The Abbe Spallanzani saw
two swallows that were carried to Milan return to Pavia in fifteen
minutes, and the distance between the two cities is seven leagues."

"That I can easily believe."

"When you see a little, insignificant bird flying backwards and
forwards, perching on one branch and hopping off to another,
whistling, carolling, perching here and there, you think that it has
no cares, that it does not reflect, and that it does not love!"

"Well, I have heard in my time a great many wonderful stories of
robin-redbreasts and jenny-wrens, but I al