CHAPTER XI 



The Pig in a Poke 



BLUE ISLAND! Sounds inviting, 

 doesn't it? Makes you think of 

 some sequestered spot were limpid 

 waters lap a pebbly shore and ferns 

 and wild flowers blow. Don't let your 

 imagination play you any such tricks, 

 however, in this case. Blue Island is 

 our nearest post and market town, and 

 has no grottoes — that I know about. 

 I don't think that even the oldest 

 inhabitant could tell you whence, or 

 how, or why the town came by its 

 name. A young lady living in a distant 

 state with whom we had correspon- 

 dence, but who knew nothing of the 

 town's location or surroundings, was 

 invited once upon a time to visit 



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