a stopped and looked around her. Then she clasped her
hands and exclaimed in an ecstatic undertone:

"We must have a canal-boat!"

And she never swerved from that determination.

After I had seriously thought over the matter, I could see no good
reason against adopting this plan. It would certainly be a cheap method
of living, and it would really be housekeeping. I grew more and more in
favor of it. After what the oyster-man had done, what might not we do?
HE had never written a book on housekeeping, nor, in all probability,
had he considered the matter, philosophically, for one moment in all his
life.

But it was not an easy thing to find a canal-boat. There were none
advertised for rent--at least, not for housekeeping purposes.

We made many inquiries and took many a long walk along the water-courses
in the vicinity of the city, but all in vain. Of course, we talked a
great deal about our project and our friends became greatly interested
in it, and, of course, too, they gave us a great deal of advice, but we
didn't mind that. We were philosophical enough to know that you can't
have shad without bones. They were good friends and, by being careful in
regard to the advice, it didn't interfere with our comfort.

We were beginning to be discouraged, at least Euphemia was. Her
discouragement is like water-cresses, it generally comes up in a very
short time after she sows her wishes. But then it withers away rapidly,
which is a comfort. One evening we were sitting, rather disconsolately,
in our room, and I was reading out the advertisements of country board
in a newspaper, when in rushed Dr. Heare--one of our old friends. He was
so full of something that he had to say that he didn't even ask us how
we were. In fact, he didn't appear to want to know.

"I tell you what it is," said he, "I have found just the very thing you
want."

"A canal-boat?" I cried.

"Yes," said he, "a canal-boat."

"Furnished?" asked Euphemia, her eyes glistening.

"Well, no," answered the doctor, "I don't think you could expect that."

"But we can't live on the bare floor," said Euphemia; "our house MUST be
furnished."

"Well, then, I suppose this won't do," said the doctor, ruefully, "for
there isn't so much as a boot-jack in it. It has most things that
are necessary for a boat, but it hasn't anything that you could call
house-furniture; but, dear me, I should think you could furnish it very
cheaply and comfortably out of your book."