I thought it would be well to take advantage of the delay to make a little journey by rail to a town near by--that is, near as the crow flies--to pay a visit to the parents of a lad in the parish at home. I thought they might like to hear news of him, and I knew it would give him pleasure to learn that I had seen his people, of whom he had often spoken. The trains, however, do not follow the track of the crow, and I found that what looked like a short journey necessitated two changes and rather long waits at each junction. I was reminded of a bright saying of Mrs. Freeman Allen. When her husband was the rector of the parish at Amherst some one asked her how long she had been there. She answered: "Seven years." But her husband said: "No, dear, you are mistaken, only five years." To which she replied: "You forget, dear, the time spent at Palmer!" I reached my destination at about noon. Captain Burchell, the father of my young friend, is a retired naval officer, and proved to be one of the most silent men I had ever met. After he had examined my credentials he called his wife, and, having invited me to stay to lunch, evidently felt he had done his duty--and what more does England expect from any sailor! Nevertheless, no one could look at that strong face without seeing that he was one of that fine body of men who have kept alive the spirit of the English navy during the long years of "inglorious" peace, so that if war ever does come, it will be ready. The wife made up for the taciturnity of the husband--perhaps was the cause of it! She was keenly interested in hearing about her boy, as, no doubt, the father was too, only she said so, and he did not! It was years since they had seen him, and probably had given up hope of ever seeing him again, and were reconciled. I suggested that as it was now an easy thing to make the journey, she might be induced to go out to him. But at this she cried out. How strange it is that the English, who are the masters of the sea, have such a dread of it! Perhaps it is because they have lost so many at sea, but whatever may be the reason, it is a fact that the average Englishwoman--and the same is almost as true of men--seems to think that a trip to New York is as dreadful as the voyage of Columbus. But I soon found that there were other reasons besides the "perils of the great deep" that alarmed the gentle lady. "I should be afraid of brigands," she said. I laughed and said I did not think there was much danger from them. "But, indeed, there must be. I frequently see in the _Times_ accounts of armed men entering into the railway carriages and robbing the passengers." I had to admit such things did occur, but as they happen in the Far West, and her boy now lives in New Rochelle, the danger did not seem imminent. But as the good lady did not seem to know whether New Rochelle is a suburb of New York or of Omaha, I gave it up.