he poor old lady to
suppose that I am crazy. Well, perhaps I shall know more about it when
the next bundle comes; and I will try to be patient until then."

The next morning I awaited the usual arrival with great anxiety; and, as
soon as the package came into my hands, I tore off the outer covering,
and, to my great relief, found a letter in my mother's handwriting,
addressed,--

"MASTER JOHN WHOPPER, CANTON, MASS."

It read as follows:--

ROXBURY, March, 1867.

MY DEAREST JOHN,--I was very much disappointed that you did not
come home to pass the Sabbath. I had a nice dinner all ready for
you; and your little sister cried hard when she found that you were
not to sit down with us. We were all very glad, however, to get
your letter; and I am thankful that you have been so prospered in
your business. I had no idea that you would be able to make so much
money by selling papers in Canton: they must be a great reading
community. I hope, my dear son, that all is made honestly. There
are some things in your letter which have puzzled me a little, and
I do not know that I exactly understand all that you say. You also
speak of visiting the Joss-house once or twice. I never knew any
family of that name: only I happen to remember, that, up in
Manchester, there were quite a large number of people by the name
of Josslyn; and sometimes the boys used to call them, in sport,
"the Josses." It is not a good habit to give nicknames to other
persons, especially where you visit the family. You also speak of
their burning a great deal of colored paper, and a great many
scented sticks before an image. I asked Bob what he thought this
meant: but he jumped right behind the closet-door, and made the
most extraordinary noises with his mouth that I ever heard; and
when he came out again his eyes were full of tears, and he looked
as if he had had a fit. "Bob," said I, "what is the matter?" "I
have had a high-strike,"--he should have said high-sterick,--"I do
have 'em sometimes." "Robert," I said very seriously, "what do you
think your brother means?"

"Well," said he, "I shouldn't wonder if the Josses had a bust of
Daniel Webster or Henry Clay in their parlor, and perhaps they burn
things round it to keep off the flies." Then he began to laugh
again, and I could not tell whether he was