afterward became so intimate with them that we were invited to spend the
afternoon and take tea, which invitation we accepted with great pride.
We went out fishing, also, with the captain and "Danny," of whom I will
tell you presently. I often think of Captain Lant in the winter, for he
told Kate once that he "felt master old in winter to what he did in
summer." He likes reading, fortunately, and we had a letter from him,
not long ago, acknowledging the receipt of some books of travel by land
and water which we had luckily thought to send him. He gave the latitude
and longitude of Deephaven at the beginning of his letter, and signed
himself, "Respectfully yours with esteem, Jacob Lant (condemned as
unseaworthy)."




_Danny_


Deephaven seemed more like one of the lazy little English seaside towns
than any other. It was not in the least American. There was no
excitement about anything; there were no manufactories; nobody seemed in
the least hurry. The only foreigners were a few stranded sailors. I do
not know when a house or a new building of any kind had been built; the
men were farmers, or went outward in boats, or inward in fish-wagons, or
sometimes mackerel and halibut fishing in schooners for the city
markets. Sometimes a schooner came to one of the wharves to load with
hay or firewood; but Deephaven used to be a town of note, rich and busy,
as its forsaken warehouses show.

We knew almost all the fisher-people at the shore, even old Dinnett, who