Somers, alias Mr. Brown and
John Lansdowne were sitting together, talking of the route from ---- to
Miramichi.

"You must have had a tedious journey, Mr. Lansdowne", observed the
missionary.

"By no means, sir. Never had a more glorious time in my life. The
reach through the forest was magnificent. By the way, Ned, I shot a
wolf. I'll tell you how it was, sometime. But how soon shall you feel
able to start for home?"

"In two or three weeks, Dr. Wright says", replied Mr. Somers.

"You must not take the road again, young gentleman", remarked Mr.
Norton, "until we have had a fall of rain. The country is scorched
with heat beyond anything I ever knew. Fine scenery on the St. John
River, Mr. Lansdowne".

"Wonderfully fine and varied! Like the unfolding of a splendid
panorama! In fact, it nearly consoled me for the sleepless nights and
horribly cooked dinners".

"Ah! well--. I've had some experience while passing up and down in
these parts. In some localities, the country is pretty well
populated", said Mr. Norton with a broad smile.

"I can certify to that geographical fact", said John, laughing. "One
night, after retiring, I found that a large and active family of mice
had taken previous shares in the straw cot furnished me. A stirring
time, they had, I assure you. The following night, I was roused up
from a ten horse-power slumber, by a little million of enterprising
insects,--well,--their style of locomotion, though irregular,
accomplishes remarkable results. By the way, I doubt that story of a
pair of fleas, harnessed into a tiny chariot and broken into a trot".

"So do I," said Mr. Norton. "'Tis a libel on them. They couldn't go
such a humdrum gait".

"That reminds me", said Mr. Somers, "of a very curious and original
painting I saw in England. It represented the ghost of a flea".

"Ridiculous!" exclaimed John. "You are romancing, Ned".

"I am stating a fact. It was painted by that eccentric genius, Blake,
upon a panel, and exhibited to me by an aquaintance, who was a friend
of the artist".

"What was it like?" said John.

"It was a naked figure with a strong body and a short neck, with
burning eyes longing for moisture, and a face worthy of a murderer,
holding a bloody cup in its clawed hands, out of which it seemed eager
to drink. The shape was strange enough and the coloring splendid,--a
kind of glistening green and dusky gold,--beautifully varnished. It
was in fact the spiritualization of a flea".