“Where is he?” inquired Clinton, whose curiosity was now thoroughly awakened.
“You may read the letter, if you wish,” said Mrs. Preston, handing it to Clinton. “Read it aloud, if you please, so that Emily and Harriet may hear.”
Clinton complied with her request. Correcting the grammar, spelling, and punctuation, the letter read as follows:—
“Rio Janeiro, March 30.
“Dear Mother,
I write these few lines to let you know I am alive and well, and I hope this will find you so. You will see from the date I am a good ways from home. I came here in the brig Susan, which sailed from Boston in February. We have had a very rough time. Last week we encountered a terrible gale, and I thought it was a gone case with us. We had to put in here to repair damages, and as there is a chance to send letters home I thought I would write. We are bound for Valparaiso, and have got to go round Cape Horn. It is a long voyage, and I guess I shall go to California before I come home. I don’t like going to sea so well as I expected, and I don’t mean to go another voyage. It’s a hard life, I can tell you. I am sorry I took that money, but I had to have some. I didn’t spend but little of it, but somebody has stolen the rest—some of the sailors, I suppose, but I don’t know who. I mean to pay you back again, out of my wages. I suppose father hasn’t got through logging yet. I should like to see you all, but I must wait a spell. Tell Mary I am going to fetch her home a pretty present, and I shall bring something for the others, too. I can’t see to write any longer, so good-bye to you all.
Jeremiah Preston.”
“Mother,” said Harriet, as soon as Clinton had finished reading the letter, “what does Jerry mean about taking money?”
“Don’t ask me any questions now,” replied Mrs. Preston, in a tone that cut off all further inquiries. Jerry’s theft had been a secret in her own breast, until now; but as he had alluded to it in his letter, and as his letter must be read by all the family, she knew it could no longer be concealed. Still, she was provoked that Harriet should be so thoughtless as to allude to the subject in the presence of Clinton.
“Emily,” continued Mrs. Preston, “you run and get your atlas, and let Clinton show us where Jerry is, before he goes.”