"What else could you take in your hand for such a purpose, O Rono?" inquired Jack.
"Sometimes, after this preamble, I added, 'but I am afraid.'"
"I thought you old salts were never afraid of anything, short of the Flying Dutchman."
"Yes; but the letters I put that in were for young lubbers, who, instead of sending home half their pay, were writing for extra supplies, and were naturally in great fear that their requests would be refused."
"I scarcely think I shall adopt that style, Willis, even though it were recognized by the navy regulations."
"Do you think the pigeon will find its way with the letter from here to New Switzerland?" inquired Willis.
"I have no doubt about that," replied Fritz, "it naturally returns to its nest and its affections. If you had wings, would you not fly straight off in the direction of the Bass Rock or Ailsa Craig, to hunt up your old arm-chair?"
"Don't speak of it; I feel my heart go pit-pat when I think of home, sweet home."
"So do the birds. When they soften the grain before they throw it into the maw of their fledgelings—when they fly off and return laden with midges to their nests—when they tear the down from their breasts to protect their eggs and their young, do you think their hearts do not beat as well as yours?"
"But all that is said to be instinct."