hat the
affairs of the Institution were so hopelessly dull that it was equally
absurd and unjust to expect any human being to take the smallest
interest in them. At this there arose an indignant cry of "Resign!"
from the whole committee; to which I answered politely, that I should be
delighted to oblige the gentlemen, and to go forthwith, on condition of
receiving a quarter's salary in the way of previous compensation.

After a sordid opposition from an economical minority, my condition of
departure was accepted. I wrote a letter of resignation, received in
exchange twelve pounds ten shillings, and took my place, that same day,
on the box-seat of the Barkingham mail.

Rather changeable this life of mine, was it not? Before I was
twenty-five years of age, I had tried doctoring, caricaturing
portrait-painting, old picture-making, and Institution-managing; and
now, with the help of Alicia, I was about to try how a little marrying
would suit me. Surely, Shakespeare must have had me prophetically in his
eye, when he wrote about "one man in his time playing many parts." What
a character I should have made for him, if he had only been alive now!

I found out from the coachman, among other matters, that there was a
famous fishing stream near Barkingham; and the first thing I did, on
arriving at the town, was to buy a rod and line.

It struck me that my safest way of introducing myself would be to
tell Doctor Dulcifer that I had come to the neighborhood for a little
fishing, and so to prevent him from fancying that I was suspiciously
prompt in availing myself of his offered hospitality. I put up, of
course, at the inn--stuck a large parchment book of flies half in and
half out of the pocket of my shooting-jacket--and set off at once to the
doctor's. The waiter of whom I asked my way stared distrustfully while
he directed me. The people at the inn had evidently heard of my new
friend, and were not favorably disposed toward the cause of scientific
investigation.

The house stood about a mile out of the town, in a dip of ground near
the famous fishing-stream. It was a lonely, old-fashioned red-brick
building, surrounded by high walls, with a garden and plantation behind
it.

As I rang at the gate-bell, I looked up at the house. Sure enough all
the top windows in front were closed with shutters and barred. I was let
in by a man in livery; who, however, in manners and appearance, looked
much more like a workman in disguise tha