ve no doubt the lad will be
delighted to go. And, believe me, his golden dreams will be all washed
out by the time he comes back. Now, what say you!"

For the space of five minutes Mr Shirley gazed at the captain over his
spectacles in amazement, and said nothing. Then he threw himself back
on his chair, pushed his spectacles up on his forehead, and gazed at him
from underneath these assistants to vision. The alteration did not seem
to improve matters, for he still continued to gaze in silent surprise.
At last his lips moved, and he said, slowly but emphatically--

"Now, that is the most remarkable coincidence I ever heard of."

"How so?" inquired the captain.

"Why, that my nephew should be raving about going to California, and
that you should be raving about getting him to go, and that these things
should suddenly come to a climax on the same forenoon. It's absolutely
incredible. If I had read it in a tale, now, or a romance, I would not
have been surprised, for authors are such blockheads, generally, that
they always make things of this kind fit in with the exactness of a
dove-tail; but that it should _really_ come to pass in my own
experience, is quite incomprehensible. And so suddenly, too!"

"As to that," remarked the captain, with a serious, philosophical
expression of countenance, "most things come to a climax suddenly, and
coincidences invariably happen together; but, after all, it doesn't seem
so strange to me, for vessels are setting sail for California every
other day, and--"

"Well," interrupted Mr Shirley, starting up with energy, as if he had
suddenly formed a great resolve, "I _will_ let the boy go. Perhaps it
will do him good. Besides, I have my own reasons for not caring much
about his losing a year or two in regard to business. Come with me to
the city, captain, and we'll talk over it as we go along." So saying,
Mr Shirley took his kinsman by the arm, and they left the house
together.

CHAPTER FOUR.

THE END OF THE BEGINNING--FAREWELL TO OLD ENGLAND.

As Captain Bunting sagaciously remarked, "most things come to a climax
suddenly."

On the evening of the day in which our tale begins, Edward Sinton--still
standing at zero--walked into his uncle's parlour. The old gentleman
was looking earnestly, though unintentionally, at the cat, which sat on
the rug; and the cat was looking attentively at the kettle, which sat on
the fire, hissing furiously, as if it were disgusted at bein