of your sojourn here, I will not enter into detail; suffice it to say, you have been disappointed in Nantucket and its inhabitants.  You have made many firm friends, the memory of whom will stir the tear of unselfish love, as you number them over, one by one, in the future.  They will never be forgotten.  You have found Nantucket is not merely an isolated place, where oil is manufactured; where the people only work to eat, and eat to work. [Though as some have suggested, a carriage drive connecting Nantucket with the Continent would be a great modern improvement].  As one has quaintly expressed, in a little poem entitled “An Old Story:” 

 “Before Columbus ever thought
  Of Western World, with glory fraught;
  Before the Northmen had been known
  To wander from their native zone;
  Before war raised a single mound,
  The antiquarians to confound;
  Indeed, so very long ago,
  The time one can’t exactly know,—­
  A giant Sachem, good as great,
  Reigned in and over our Bay State. 
  So huge was he, his realm so small,
  He could not exercise at all,
  Except by taking to the sea.
  [For which he had a ticket free,
  Granted by Neptune, with the seal,
  A salient clam, and couchant eel]. 
  His pipe was many a mile in length,
  His lungs proportionable in strength;
  And his rich moccasins,—­with the pair,
  The seven-league boots would not compare. 
  Whene’er siestas he would take,
  Cape Cod must help his couch to make;
  And, being lowly, it was meet
  He should prefer it for his feet. 
  Well, one day, after quite a doze,
  A month or two in length, suppose,
  He waked, and, as he’d often done,
  Strolled forth to see the mid-day sun;
  But while unconsciously he slept,
  The sand within his moccasins crept;
  At every step some pain he’d feel,
  ’Twas now the toe, now near the heel;
  At length his Sachemship grew cross,
  The pebbles to the sea he’d toss,
  And with a moccasin in each hand,
  He threw on either side the sand;
  Then in an instant there appear
  Two little isles, the Sachem near! 
  One as the Vineyard now is known,
  The other we may call our own. 
  At ease, he freely breathed awhile,
  Which sent the fogs to bless our isle;
  And turning East, with quickened motion,
  The chill, bleak winds came o’er the ocean.

  Ill-judging Sachem! would that you
  Had never shaken here that shoe. 
  Or, having done so, would again,
  And join Nantucket to the main!”

Having had a peep within the nest, you sigh for the return of the bird, and we will on.

CHAPTER III.

THE VOICE OF CHILDHOOD.

  “Ah!  Well may sages bow to thee,
   Dear, loving, guileless Infancy! 
     And sigh beside their lofty lore
   For one untaught delight of thine;
     And feel they’d give their learning’s store,
   To know again thy truth divine.”