However, I did not feel discouraged long.
I judged that it was best to make some allowances, for doubtless Mr.
Bixby was 'stretching.' Presently he pulled a rope and struck a few strokes on the big bell.

The stars were all gone now, and the night was as black as ink.

I could hear the wheels churn along the bank, but I was not entirely certain that I could see the shore.

The voice of the invisible watchman called up from the hurricane deck-- 'What's this, sir ?' 'Jones's plantation.' I said to myself, I wish I might venture to offer a small bet that it isn't.

But I did not chirp.