"'Something! Bless your heart! ain't that every thing?'

"'Well, I'll agree. Come on board, and we'll make out the papers.'

"So my grandfather went on board, and they made out the papers; and the ship hauled up alongside of the whale, and they went to work cutting, and slashing, and hoisting, and burning, and boiling, and at last, after ever so long a time--I don't remember exactly how long--the oil was all secured, and my grandfather, in a few months afterward, when he landed at Nantucket and made inquiries, sold his share of the oil for three thousand nine hundred and fifty-six dollars fifty-six cents, which he at once invested in business in New Bedford, and started off to Pennsylvania to visit his mother. The old lady didn't know him at all, he was so changed by sun, wind, storm, hardship, sickness, fatigue, want, exposure, and other things of that kind. She looked coldly on him.

"'Who are you?'

"'Don't you know?'

"'No.'

"'Think.'

"'_Have you a strawberry on your arm_?'

"'No.'

"'Then--you are--_you are_--YOU ARE--my own--my long--lost son!'

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Long-Lost Son.]

"And she caught him in her arms.

"Here endeth the first part of my grandfather's adventures, but he had many more, good and bad; for he was a remarkable man, though I say it; and if any of you ever want to hear more about him, which I doubt, all you've got to do is to say so. But perhaps it's just as well to let the old gentleman drop, for his adventures were rather strange; but the narration of them is not very profitable, not that I go in for the utilitarian theory of conversation; but I think, on the whole, that, in story-telling, fiction should be preferred to dull facts like these, and so the next time I tell a story I will make one up."

The Club had listened to the story with the gravity which should be manifested toward one who is relating family matters. At its close the Senator prepared to speak. He cleared his throat:

"Ahem! Gentlemen of the Club! our adventures, thus far, have not been altogether contemptible. We have a President and a Secretary; ought we not also to have a Recording Secretary--a Historian?"

"Ay!" said all, very earnestly.

"Who, then, shall it be?"

All looked at d.i.c.k.

"I see there is but one feeling among us all," said the Senator.

"Yes, Richard, you are the man. Your gift of language, your fancy, your modesty, your fluency--But I spare you. From this time forth you know your duty."

Overcome by this honor, d.i.c.k was compelled to bow his thanks in silence and hide his blushing face.

"And now," said Mr. Figgs, eagerly, "I want to hear _the Higgins Story_."

The Doctor turned frightfully pale. d.i.c.k began to fill his pipe.

The Senator looked earnestly out of the window. b.u.t.tons looked at the ceiling.

"What's the matter?" said Mr. Figgs.

"What?" asked b.u.t.tons.

"The Higgins Story?"

The Doctor started to his feet. His excitement was wonderful. He clenched his fist.

"I'll quit! I'm going back. I'll join you at Rome by another route.

I'll--"

"No, you won't!" said b.u.t.tons; "for on a journey like this it would be absurd to begin the Higgins Story."

"Pooh!" said d.i.c.k, "it would require nineteen days at least to get through the introductory part."

"When, then, can I hear it?" asked Mr. Figgs, in perplexity.

CHAPTER XVII.

NIGHT ON THE ROAD.--THE CLUB ASLEEP.--THEY ENTER ROME.--THOUGHTS ON APPROACHING AND ENTERING "THE ETERNAL CITY."

[Ill.u.s.tration: To Rome.]

CHAPTER XVIII.

A LETTER BY d.i.c.k, AND CRITICISMS OF HIS FRIENDS.

They took lodgings near the Piazza di Spagna. This is the best part of Rome to live in, which every traveller will acknowledge. Among other advantages, it is perhaps the only clean spot in the Capital of Christendom.

Their lodgings were peculiar. Description is quite unnecessary. They were not discovered without toil, and not secured without warfare.

Once in possession they had no reason to complain. True, the conveniences of civilized life do not exist there--but who dreams of convenience in Rome?

On the evening of their arrival they were sitting in the Senator's room, which was used as the general rendezvous. d.i.c.k was diligently writing.

"d.i.c.k," said the Senator, "what are you about?"

"Well," said d.i.c.k, "the fact is, I just happened to remember that when I left home the editor of the village paper wished me to write occasionally. I promised, and he at once published the fact in enormous capitals. I never thought of it till this evening, when I happened to find a sc.r.a.p of the last issue of his paper in my valise.

I recollected my promise, and I thought I might as well drop a line."

"Read what you have written."

d.i.c.k blushed and hesitated.