The Country of the Pointed Firs

He rose with dignity to take leave, and asked me to stop at his house some day, when he would show me some outlandish things that he had brought home from sea. I was familiar with the subject of the decadence of shipping interests in all its affecting branches, having been already some time in Dunnet, and I felt sure that Captain Littlepage's mind had now returned to a safe level. As we came down the hill toward the village our ways divided, and when I had seen the old captain well started on a smooth piece of sidewalk which would lead him to his own door, we parted, the best of friends. “Step in some afternoon,” he said, as affectionately as if I were a fellow-shipmaster wrecked on the lee shore of age like himself. I turned toward home, and presently met Mrs. Todd coming toward me with an anxious expression. “I see you sleevin' the old gentleman down the hill,” she suggested. “Yes. I've had a very interesting afternoon with him,” I answered, and her face brightened. “Oh, then he's all right. I was afraid 'twas one o' his flighty spells, an' Mari' Harris wouldn't”-- “Yes,” I returned, smiling, “he has been telling me some old stories, but we talked about Mrs. Begg and the funeral beside, and Paradise Lost.” “I expect he got tellin' of you some o' his great narratives,” she answered, looking at me shrewdly. “Funerals always sets him goin'. Some o' them tales hangs together toler'ble well,” she added, with a sharper look than before. “An' he's been a great reader all his seafarin' days. Some thinks he overdid, and affected his head, but for a man o' his years he's amazin' now when he's at his best. Oh, he used to be a beautiful man!”