interest to pay me a visit. Fine day at last, after all the rain and
murky weather. This crisp, frosty air sharpens one's wits,--a sort of
atmospheric pumice, don't you see, and tempts me to drive a good
bargain. How much will you give for a letter that has travelled half
around the world, and had as many adventures as Robinson Crusoe, or
Madame Pfeiffer?"

He took from a drawer a dingy and much-defaced envelope, whose
address was rather indistinct from having encountered a oath on its
journey.

"Are you sure that it is for me?" asked the minister, trying to
decipher the uncertain characters.

"Are there two of your name? This is intended for Reverend Peyton
Hargrove of St. ---- Church -- V----, United States of America. It
was enclosed to me by the Postmaster-General, who says that it
arrived last week in the long-lost mail of the steamship _Algol_,
which you doubtless recollect was lost some time ago,--plying
between New York and Havre; It now appears that a Dutch sailing
vessel bound for Tasmania--wherever that may be; somewhere among the
cannibals, I presume--boarded her after she had been deserted by the
crew, and secured the mail bags, intending to put in along the
Spanish coast and land them, but stress of weather drove them so far
out to sea, that they sailed on to some point in Africa, and as the
postmasters in that progressive and enlightened region did not serve
their apprenticeship in the United States Postal Bureau, you perceive
that your document has not had 'despatch.' If salt water is ever a
preservative, your news ought not to be stale."