The first walk that he took on the beach proved to him that this was no place for illiterate snobs and shoddyites.  Everybody talked of high moral aims, or questions of deep import, (especially the high tariff Congressmen,) and even the little girls who were sitting in the shade, (with big white umbrellas over them to keep the freckles off,) were puzzling their heads over charades and enigmas, instead of running around and making little Frou-Frous of themselves.  Mr. P. composed an enigma for a group of these young students.  Said he: 

“My first is a useless expense.  My second is a useless expense.  My third is a useless expense.  My fourth is a useless expense.  My fifth is a useless expense.  My sixth is a useless expense, and so is my eighth, ninth, tenth, and eleventh, and all the rest of my parts, of which there are three hundred and fifty.

    My whole is a useless expense, and sits at Washington.”

The dear little girls were not long in guessing this ingenious enigma and while they were rejoicing over their success, Mr. P. was suddenly addressed by a man who had been standing behind him.  Starting little, he turned around and was thus addressed by his unknown listener.

“Sir,” said that individual, “do I understand you to mean that the Congress of the United States is a useless expense?”

“Well, sir,” said Mr. P., with a smile, “as it costs a great deal and does very little, I cannot but think it is both useless and expensive.”

“Then sir,” said the other, “you must think the whole institution is a nuisance generally.”

“You put it very strongly,” said Mr. P., “but I fear that you are about right.”

“Sir!” cried the gentleman, his face beaming with an indescribable expression.  “Give me your hand!  I am glad to know you.  I agree with you exactly.  My name is WHITTEMORE.”

But Mr. P. did not waste all his time in talking to strangers and concocting enigmas.  He had come to Newport with a purpose.  It was none of the ordinary purposes of watering place visitors.  These he could carry out elsewhere.

His object in coming here was grand, unusual and romantic. He came to be rescued by IDA LEWIS!

It was not easy to devise a plan for this noble design, and it was not until the morning of the second day of his visit, that Mr. P. was ready for the adventure.  Then he hired a boat, and set sail, alone, o’er the boundless bosom of the Atlantic.

He had not sailed more than a few hours on said boundless bosom, before he turned his prow back towards land,—­towards the far-famed Lime Rocks, on which the intrepid heroine dwells.  He had thought of being wrecked at night, but fearing that IDA might not be able to find him in the dark, he gave up this idea.  His present intention was that Miss LEWIS should believe him to be a lonely mariner from a far distance, tossed by the angry waves upon her rock-bound coast But there was a certain difficulty in the way, which Mr. P. feared would prove fatal to his hopes.