d cleared the skirts of Swampville, and were _en route_
for Memphis, did I enter on the pleasure of perusal. The address was
simply as before: "To Edward Warfield;" and so to the apostrophic
commencement: "Stranger!" I could have wished for some less distant
word--some familiar phrase of endearment, but I was contented--for I
knew that Lilian's too recent love had lacked the opportunity of
learning its language. Before it had time to achieve the employment of
those sweet forms of speech, its course had been rudely interrupted.
Thus ran the letter:

"Stranger!--I hope you got my other letter, and that you were able to
read it, for I had no paper, nor pens, nor ink to write it better--only
a little bit of a pencil, that was my mother's, and a leaf which father
said you tore out of a book. But I think I could have wrote it better,
only I was so afraid that they would see me, and scold me for it, and I
wrote it in a great hurry, when they were from home, and then left it on
the table after both of them had gone down to the creek to get into the
canoe. I thought no one would come to the house before you, and I hoped
all the morning you might come before we were gone. I would have given
a great deal to have been able to see you again; and I think father
would have waited till you came, only his friend would not let him stay
longer, but hurried us away. But I hope you got the letter, and that
you will not be offended at me for writing this one I send you, without
your leave. I promised that if you would allow me, I would write from
some place, and tell you the name of the country where we are going; but
I forgot that it would be impossible for you to give me leave, as you
could not see me, nor yet know where to write it to me. I now know what
country it is, for everybody we have seen is talking about it, and
saying that it is full of gold, that lies on the ground in pieces as big
as hickory nuts; and I hear the name a many a time, over and over again.
Father calls it `Californey,' and some `California,' and this, I
suppose, is the right way of spelling it. It is near a great sea, or
ocean as they call it, which is not the same that comes in at
Philadelphia and New York, but far greater and bigger than the
Mississippi and the Obion, and all the rivers put together. It must be
a very large sea to be bigger than the Mississippi! But I am sure you
must know all about it, for I have heard them say you have travelled in