rming to drop anchor every now and then in a snug, new
harbour, where Nature, as she tucks you in with woodland green, has
smiles and graces that you never saw before, yet the houseboater soon
learns that each delightful, new-found pocket in the watery world means
necessity for several other new-found things. There must be a new-found
washerwoman, and new-found somebodies who can supply meats, eggs,
vegetables, ice, milk, and water--the last two separate if possible.
True, the little harbour is beautiful; but as you lie there day after
day watching waving trees and rippling water, the soiled-clothes bags
are growing fatter; and then too, even in the midst of beauty, one
wearies of a life fed wholly out of tin cans.

[Illustration: ENTRANCE TO CHIPPOAK CREEK.]

[Illustration: COVE IN CHIPPOAK CREEK.]

Henry was a good forager; and we were confident, as his strong strokes
carried him from the houseboat shoreward, that he would soon put us in
touch with all the necessary sources of supply, so that in the
afternoon we could make our visit to the old manor-house. And he did
not fail us. His little boat came back well loaded, and he bore the
welcome news that "Sally" (whoever she might be) would take the
washing.

But now, a matter of religion got in between us and Brandon. A launch
came down the creek; and, as we were nearly out of gasoline, the
Commodore hailed the craft and made inquiry as to where we could get
some. One of the two men aboard proved to deal in gasoline, and
appeared to be the only one about who did. He had some of it then on
the pier at Claremont; and would sell it any day in the week except
Saturday. The rather puzzling exception he explained by saying that he
was a Seventh-day Adventist. To be sure, it was then only Thursday; but
as it seemed making up for bad weather that might prevent our running
down to the pier next day, we arranged to take on a barrel of the
gasoline that afternoon.

We started after a rather late dinner; and ran back down the river to
where we had seen the schooner and the barges the day before. Just as
the Commodore made a nice, soft-bump landing at the pier, a man
informed him that the gasoline had been carried to the Adventist's mill
by mistake. So, we cast off our ropes again, and went farther down to
where the little mills steamed away at the foot of the bluffs.

Off shore, several sloops and rowboats were tied to tall stakes in the
water. We went as close to shore as w