A CIIEKRFUL "GOOD NIGHT." 25 



once more a free man, but as greasy and brown as an Italian 

 beggar. The battle was ended. I learned afterwards to 

 tolerate tar-oil, then to like its odor, and now I always keep 

 a bottle of it among my fishing traps at home, uncorking it 

 now and then, when the snows are heavy on the earth, to 

 remind me of the summer eamp-tire in the wilderness! 

 There is no disputing educated tastes! 



Seven of us slept that night in the loft, in feather beds, 

 the rain pouring down upon the roof just above our heads. 

 Wilkinson, as he took the household candle down stairs, 

 bestowed his eherri'ul good-night, "Hoy. i! tin- punkies 

 grt \.-ry bail, 'tore morning, call me and I'll bring up a 

 smudge!" But we slept. 



