"'I consulted a friend, a native of the country; he said, in its
beautiful Doric, "Old oss, I reckon you'd better change the air." I
grasped his hand, muttered a blessing, and sailed for England.
"'On ocean's peaceful bosom the annoyance ceased. But under this
deceitful calm fresh dangers brooded. Two doctors had stolen into the
ship, unseen by human eye, and bided their time. Unable to act at sea,
owing to the combined effect of wind and current, they concealed
themselves on deck under a black tarpaulin--that is to say, it had been
black, but wind and weather had reduced it to a dirty brown--and there,
adopting for the occasion the habits of the dormouse, the bear, the
caterpillar, and other ephemeral productions, they lay torpid. But the
moment the vessel touched the quay, profiting by the commotion, they
emerged, and signed certificates with chalk on my portmanteau; then
vanished in the crowd. The Custom-house read the certificates, and
seized my luggage as contraband. I was too old a traveler to leave my
luggage; so then they seized me, and sent us both down here. (With
sudden and short-lived fury) that old hell-hound at the Lodge asked
them where I was booked for. "For the whole journey," said a sepulchral
voice unseen. That means the grave, my boys, the silent grave.
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