relaxations of that watering-place, to the great Monsonpon House. We
were passing through one of the large halls, when my destiny was
fulfilled! I saw my man!

He was not shaven. He had on no spectacles. He was dressed in a green
baize roundabout and faded blue overalls, worn sadly at the knee. But
I saw at once that he was of my height, five feet four and a half. He
had black hair, worn off by his hat. So have and have not I. He
stooped in walking. So do I. His hands were large, and mine.
And--choicest gift of Fate in all--he had, not "a strawberry-mark on
his left arm," but a cut from a juvenile brickbat over his right eye,
slightly affecting the play of that eyebrow. Reader, so have I!--My
fate was sealed!

A word with Mr. Holley, one of the inspectors, settled the whole
thing. It proved that this Dennis Shea was a harmless, amiable fellow,
of the class known as shiftless, who had sealed his fate by marrying a
dumb wife, who was at that moment ironing in the laundry. Before I
left Stafford, I had hired both for five years. We had applied to
Judge Pynchon, then the probate judge at Springfield, to change the
name of Dennis Shea to Frederic Ingham. We had explained to the Judge,
what was the precise truth, that an eccentric gentleman wished to
adopt Dennis under this new name into his family. It never occurred to
him that Dennis might be more than fourteen years old. And thus, to
shorten this preface, when we returned at night to my parsonage at
Naguadavick, there entered Mrs. Ingham, her new dumb laundress,
myself, who am Mr. Frederic Ingham, and my double, who was Mr.
Frederic Ingham by as good right as I.

Oh, the fun we had the next morning in shaving his beard to my