he
other sex. You will not need a caul there! Go, my son, and remain
until you can outgrow your absurd infirmity."

I felt dismayed at the prospect, now that it was so near at hand. I
had often--in the distance--yearned for the security of a light-house.
Yet I now looked about on our comfortable parlor with a longing eye. I
recalled the pleasant tea-hour when there were no visitors; I thought
of the fun the boys and girls would have this coming winter, and I
wished father had not been so precipitate in securing that vacant
place.

Just then Miss Gabble came up our steps, and shortly after entered the
parlor. She was one of those dreaded beings, who always filled me with
the direst confusion. She sat right down by my side and squeezed my
hand.

"My poor, dear fellow-mortal!" said she, getting her sharp face so
close to mine I thought she was going to kiss me, "how do you do?
Wearing them goggles yet? It is too bad. And yet, after all, they are
sort of becoming to you. In fact, you're so good-looking you can wear
anything. And how your mustache does grow, to be sure!"

I saw father was getting up to leave the room, and I flung her hand
away, saying quickly to him: "I'll get the glass of water, father."

And so I beat him that time, and got out of the room, quite willing to
live in the desert of Sahara, if by it I could get rid of such
females.

Well, I went to Buncombe Island. I retired from the world to a
light-house in the first bloom of my youth. I did not want to be a
monk--I could not be a man--and so I did what fate and my father laid
out for me to do. Through the fine autumn weather I enjoyed my
retirement. I had taken plenty of books and magazines with me to while
away the time; there was a lovely promenade along the sea-wall on
which the tall tower stood, and I could walk there for hours without
my pulse being disturbed by visions of parasols, loves of bonnets, and
pretty faces under them. I communed with the sea. I told it my rations
were too salt; that I didn't like the odor of the oil in filling the
lamps; that my legs got tired going up to the lantern, and that my
arms gave out polishing the lenses. I also confided to it that I would
not mind these little trifles if I only had one being to share my
solitude--a modest, shy little creature that I wouldn't be afraid to
ask to be my wife.

"Oh, had we some bright little isle of our own,
In a blue summer ocean far off and alone."

I'd forget th