How great was my satisfaction then to behold myself surrounded by my friends, and in my own house; how much greater to know I was no longer to be persecuted by the odious German doctor, who, my brother-in-law gave me to understand, in reply to my anxious questions, had not only given over all designs on my person, but had actually departed from the neighbourhood, and from the State of New-Jersey, satisfied, doubtless, that I was a living man, and no longer a mummy.
[CHAPTER II.]
WHAT HAD HAPPENED AT WATERMELON HILL DURING THE AUTHOR'S ABSENCE.
This intelligence was balm to my spirit and medicine to my body; and the consequence was, that I recovered so rapidly as to be able to leave my bed in less than a week, and receive the visits and congratulations of many old friends, who seemed really glad of my return and recovery, though I have no doubt they were moved as much by curiosity to learn where I had been, and what adventures had befallen me during the long period of my exile; in which, however, I did not think it advisable to gratify them.
And now it was that I discovered that many changes, personally interesting to myself, had happened during my absence. When I first got upon my porch and looked about me, I almost doubted whether I was really on the forty-acre. My house had been carefully reparied, both within and without; a new and substantial stable, with other outbuildings, had been erected; new fences had been put up around my fields and orchards; cattle were lowing on my meadows, and horses whinnying in the stable, to be let loose with them upon the early grass. In a word, the forty-acre now looked more prosperous and flourishing than it had ever before looked mean and empoverished: it looked almost as well as it had done in the days of my father.
"How was all this change brought about?" I demanded of my brother-in-law, who, with my sister, had accompanied, or, indeed, rather led me to the porch.
"By the magic of money, industry, and a little common sense," said Alderwood, who, although a plain and bluff man, was a sensible one, and a most excellent farmer. "You must know, my dear Sheppard," said he, "that, when we found you were so far gone—"
"How," said I, in surprise, "how did you know I had gone far? I thought the general opinion was that I was murdered."