of the yard, I whipped it up and bare it away upon my shoulders. The
old man would often look gravely at me from under his heavy thatched
eyebrows, and shake his grizzled head as he sat in his arm-chair puffing
his pipe. 'You grow too big for the nest, lad,' he would say. 'I doubt
some of these days you'll find your wings and away!' In my heart I
longed that the time would come, for I was weary of the quiet life of
the village, and was anxious to see the great world of which I had
heard and read so much. I could not look southward without my spirit
stirring within me as my eyes fell upon those dark waves, the white
crests of which are like a fluttering signal ever waving to an English
youth and beckoning him to some unknown but glorious goal.



Chapter III


Of Two Friends of my Youth


I fear, my children, that you will think that the prologue is over long
for the play; but the foundations must be laid before the building is
erected, and a statement of this sort is a sorry and a barren thing
unless you have a knowledge of the folk concerned. Be patient, then,
while I speak to you of the old friends of my youth, some of whom you
may hear more of hereafter, while others remained behind in the country
hamlet, and yet left traces of our early intercourse upon my character
which might still be discerned there.

Foremost for good amongst all whom I knew was Zachary Palmer, the