mentioned, Mr. Ambrose Greenfield, of Kingston, Jamaica, who, upon the
occasions of his visits to those parts, did all that he could to make
Barnaby's stay in that town agreeable and pleasant to him.

So much for the history of our hero to the time of the beginning of this
story, without which you shall hardly be able to understand the purport
of those most extraordinary adventures that befell him shortly after he
came of age, nor the logic of their consequence after they had occurred.

For it was during his fifth voyage to the West Indies that the first of
those extraordinary adventures happened of which I shall have presently
to tell.

At that time he had been in Kingston for the best part of four weeks,
lodging at the house of a very decent, respectable widow, by name Mrs.
Anne Bolles, who, with three pleasant and agreeable daughters, kept a
very clean and well-served lodging house in the outskirts of the town.

One morning, as our hero sat sipping his coffee, clad only in loose
cotton drawers, a shirt, and a jacket, and with slippers upon his feet,
as is the custom in that country, where everyone endeavors to keep as
cool as may be while he sat thus sipping his coffee Miss Eliza, the
youngest of the three daughters, came and gave him a note, which,
she said, a stranger had just handed in at the door, going away again
without waiting for a reply. You may judge of Barnaby's surprise when he
opened the note and read as follows:

MR. BARNABY TRUE.

SIR,--Though you don't know me, I know you, and I tell you