ime. He had been too exclusively devoted to work that interested
him to remember what was due to the care of his health. The doctor's
warnings had been neglected; his over-strained nerves had given way; and
the man whose strong constitution had resisted cold and starvation in
the Arctic wastes, had broken down under stress of brain-work in London.

This was the news which the first of the letters contained.

The second, written under dictation, alluded briefly to the remedies
suggested. In the captain's case, the fresh air recommended was the air
of the sea. At the same time he was forbidden to receive either letters
or telegrams, during his absence from town, until the doctor had
seen him again. These instructions pointed, in Captain Bennydeck's
estimation, to sailing for pleasure's sake, and therefore to hiring a
yacht.

The third and last letter announced that the yacht had been found, and
described the captain's plans when the vessel was ready for sea.

He proposed to sail here and there about the Channel, wherever it might
please the wind to take him. Friends would accompany him, but not in any
number. The yacht was not large enough to accommodate comfortably more
than one or two guests at a time. Every now and then, the vessel would
come to an anchor in the bay of the little coast town of Sandyseal, to
accommodate friends going and coming and (in spite of medical advice) to
receive letters. "You may have heard of Sandyseal," the Captain wrote,
"as one of the places which have lately been found out by the doctors.
They are recommending the air to patients suffering from nervous
disorders all over England. The one hotel in the place, and the few
cottages which let lodgings, are crammed, as I hear, and the speculative
builder is beginning his operations at such a rate that Sandyseal will
be no longer recognizable in a few months more. Before the crescents
and terraces and grand hotels turn the town into a fashionable
watering-place, I want to take a last look at scenes familiar to me
under their old aspect. If you are inclined to wonder at my feeling
such a wish as this, I can easily explain myself. Two miles inland from
Sandyseal, there is a lonely old moated house. In that house I was born.
When you return from America, write to me at the post-office, or at the
hotel (I am equally well known in both places), and let us arrange for
a speedy meeting. I wish I could ask you to come and see me in my
birth-place. It