ss--it's all right, Squire.
This is a prohibition State, you know; and that's a prohibition boat,
that's all.' Well, there was some talk about fishing the things up; but
there was no way of doing it, and Dr. Flower said, anyhow, he didn't
come to fish for barrels nor yet for cook-stoves; so we went on, and
there they be--_are_ yet, I suppose. Bimeby we came to Marks's camp,
where we were to stay. It was a bark lean-to, big enough for us all,
with a nice fire burning, and all comfortable. Doctor and I liked it
first-rate; but the city chaps,--they said they must have their tents
up, so we spent a good part of a day getting the things up."

"And were they more comfortable?" asked Rose. "I suppose the gentlemen
were not used to roughing it."

"Humph!" responded Bubble, with sovereign contempt. "Mr. Packard set his
afire, trying to build what he called a scientific fire, and came near
burning himself up, and the rest of us, let alone the whole woods. And
the second night it came on to rain,--my! how it did rain! and the
second tent was wet through, and they were all mighty glad to come into
the lean-to!"

"This seems to have been a severe experience, my lad," said Miss
Wealthy, with gentle sympathy. "I trust that none of the party suffered
in health from all this exposure."

"Oh, no, ma'am!" Bubble hastened to assure her. "It was splendid fun!
splendid! I never had such a good time. I could fish for a year without
stopping, I do believe."

Miss Wealthy's sympathetic look changed to one of mild disapproval, for
she did not like what she called "violent sentiments." "So exaggerated a
statement, my boy," she said gently, "is doubtless not meant to be taken
literally. Fishing, or angling, to use a more elegant word, seems to be
a sport which gives great pleasure to those who pursue it. Dr. Johnson,
it is true, spoke slightingly of it, and described a fishing-rod as a
stick with a hook at one end, and--ahem! he was probably in jest, my
dears--a fool at the other. But Izaak Walton was a meek and devout
person; and my dear father was fond of angling, and--and--others I have
known. Go on, my lad, with your lively description."

Poor Bubble was so abashed by this little dissertation that his
liveliness seemed to have deserted him entirely for the moment. He hung
his head, and looked so piteously at Hildegarde that she was obliged to
take refuge in a fit of coughing, which made Miss Wealthy exclaim
anxiously that she feared sh