wn to my friends and acquaintances, and I was,
therefore, very glad to see in a newspaper, published on the afternoon
of the day of my intended departure, my name among the list of
passengers who had sailed upon the Mnemonic. For the first time I
commended the super-enterprise of a reporter who gave more attention to
the timeliness of his news than to its accuracy.

I was stopping at a New York hotel, but I did not wish to stay there.
Until I felt myself ready to start on my travels the neighborhood of
Boynton would suit me better than anywhere else. I did not wish to go
to the town itself, for Barker lived there, and I knew many of the
townspeople; but there were farmhouses not far away where I might spend
a week. After considering the matter, I thought of something that
might suit me. About three miles from my house, on an unfrequented
road, was a mill which stood at the end of an extensive sheet of water,
in reality a mill-pond, but commonly called a lake. The miller, an old
man, had recently died, and his house near by was occupied by a
newcomer whom I had never seen. If I could get accommodations there it
would suit me exactly. I left the train two stations below Boynton and
walked over to the mill.

The country-folk in my neighborhood are always pleased to take summer
boarders if they can get them, and the miller and his wife were glad to
give me a room, not imagining that I was the owner of a good house not
far away. The place suited my requirements very well. It was near
her, and I might live here for a time unnoticed, but what I was going
to do with my opportunity I did not know. Several times the conviction
forced itself upon me that I should get up at once and go to Europe by
the first steamer, and so show myself that I was a man of sense.

This conviction was banished on the second afternoon of my stay at the
mill. I was sitting under a tree in the orchard near the house,
thinking and smoking my pipe, when along the road which ran by the side
of the lake came Mr. Vincent on my black horse General and his daughter
on my mare Sappho. Instinctively I pulled my straw hat over my eyes,
but this precaution was not necessary. They were looking at the
beautiful lake, with its hills and overhanging trees, and saw me not!

When the very tip of Sappho's tail had melted into the foliage of the
road, I arose to my feet and took a deep breath of the happy air. I
had seen her, and it was with her father sh