My father has suddenly taken it into his head to spend a few days
at the Shoals. In the meanwhile you will not hear from me. I see
Marjorie walking in the garden with the colonel. I wish I could
speak to her alone, but shall probably not have an opportunity
before we leave.


X.

EDWARD DELANEY TO JOHN FLEMMING.

August 28, 1872.

You were passing into your second childhood, were you? Your
intellect was so reduced that my epistolary gifts seemed quite
considerable to you, did they? I rise superior to the sarcasm in
your favor of the 11th instant, when I notice that five days'
silence on my part is sufficient to throw you into the depths of
despondency.

We returned only this morning from Appledore, that enchanted island
--at four dollars per day. I find on my desk three letters from
you! Evidently there is no lingering doubt in your mind as to the
pleasure I derive from your correspondence. These letters are
undated, but in what I take to be the latest are two passages that
require my consideration. You will pardon my candor, dear Flemming,
but the conviction forces itself upon me that as your leg grows
stronger your head becomes weaker. You ask my advice on a certain
point. I will give it. In my opinion you could do nothing more