Our friend the young sailor, among his other quaint
objections to sleeping on shore, declared that he particularly
hated four-post beds, because he never slept in one without
doubting whether the top might not come down in the night and
suffocate him. I thought this chance reference to the
distinguishing feature of William's narrative curious enough, and
my husband agreed with me. But he says it is scarcely worth while
to mention such a trifle in anything so important as a book. I
cannot venture, after this, to do more than slip these lines in
modestly at the end of the story. If the printer should notice my
few last words, perhaps he may not mind the trouble of putting
them into some out-of-the-way corner.
L. K.
PROLOGUE TO THE SECOND STORY.
The beginning of an excellent connection which I succeeded in
establishing in and around that respectable watering-place,
Tidbury-on-the-Marsh, was an order for a life-size oil portrait
of a great local celebrity--one Mr. Boxsious, a solicitor, who
was understood to do the most thriving business of any lawyer in
the town.
The portrait was intended as a testimonial "expressive (to use
the language of the circular forwarded to me at the time) of the
eminent services of Mr. Boxsious in promoting and securing the
prosperity of the town." It had been subscribed for by the
"Municipal Authorities and Resident Inhabitants" of
Tidbury-on-the-Marsh; and it was to be presented, when done, to
Mrs.
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