s the duet in Puritani.

It would be an immense satisfaction, if by palimpsest under some old
cash-book of that century, or by letters dug out from some family
collection in England, one could just discover that "John Billington,
having become weary with cutting down a small fir-tree which had been
allotted to him, took his snaphance and shot with him, and calling a dog
he had, to whom in the Low Countries the name Crab had been given, went
after fowle. Crossing the brook and climbing up the bank to an open
place which was there, he found what had been left by the savages of one
of their gardens,--and on the ground, picking at the stalkes of the
corne, a flocke of large blacke birds such as he had never seen before.
His dogge ran at them and frightened them, and they all took wing
heavily, but not so quick but that Billington let fly at them and
brought two of them down,--one quite dead and one hurt so badly that he
could not fly. Billington killed them both and tyed them together, and
following after the flocke had another shot at them, and by a good
Providence hurte three more. He tyed two of these together and brought
the smallest back to us, not knowing what he brought, being but a poor
man and ignorant. Hee is but a lazy Fellowe, and was sore tired with the
weight of his burden, which was nigh fortie pounds. Soe soon as he saw
it, the Governour and the rest knew that it was a wild Turkie, and
albeit he chid Billington sharply, he sent four men with him, as it were
Calebs and Joshuas, to bring in these firstlings of the land. They found
the two first and brought them to us; but after a long search they could
not find the others, and soe gave them up, saying the wolves must have
eaten them. There were some that thought John Billington had never seen
them either, but had shot them with a long bowe. Be this as it may,
Mistress Winslow and the other women stripped them they had, cleaned
them, spytted them, basted them, and roasted them, and thus we had fresh
foule to our dinner."

I say it would have been very pleasant to have found this in some
palimpsest, but if it is in the palimpsest, it has not yet been found.
As the Arab proverb says, "There is news, but it has not yet come."

I have failed, in just the same way, to find a letter from that
rosy-cheeked little child you see in Sargent's picture, looking out of
her great wondering eyes, under her warm hood, into the desert. I
overhauled a good many of the Cotton m