Falkland Islands, and all manner of unexpected places; sending
home valuable notes (sometimes accompanied by valuable specimens),
zoological and botanical; and informing his father that he was doing
very well; that work was plentiful, and that he always found two fresh
jobs before he had finished one old one.

His eldest brother, John, died meanwhile. His second brother, William,
was in good general practice in Manchester. His father's connections
supported him comfortably; and if the old Doctor ever longed for Tom
to come home, he never hinted it to the wanderer, but bade him go on
and prosper, and become (which he gave high promise of becoming) a
distinguished man of science. Nevertheless the old man's heart sank at
last, when month after month, and at last two full years, had passed
without any letter from Tom.

At last, when full four years were past and gone since Tom started
for South America, he descended from the box of the day-mail, with a
serene and healthful countenance; and with no more look of interest in
his face than if he had been away on a two days' visit, shouldered his
carpet-bag, and started for his father's house. He stopped, however;
as there appeared from the inside of the mail a face which he must
surely know. A second look told him that it was none other than
John Briggs. But how altered! He had grown up into a very handsome
man,--tall and delicate-featured, with long black curls, and a black
moustache. There was a slight stoop about his shoulders, as of a
man accustomed to too much sitting and writing; and he carried an
eye-glass, whether for fashion's sake, or for his eyes' sake, was
uncertain. He was wrapt in a long Spanish cloak, new and good; wore
well-cut trousers, and (what Tom, of course, examined carefully)
French boots, very neat, and very thin. Moreover, he had lavender