A CURIOUS TENT. 309 



hours about them. He has a large tent, which my com- 

 panions wish to take along with them. But I dislike 

 tents ; they are heavy to carry, in a rain they are damp, 

 while you are afraid to build up those roaring fires near 

 them which make a bark shanty so comfortable, by 

 serving the double purpose of driving off the mosqui- 

 toes and of keeping you warm. They were, however, 

 determined to strike a bargain with Sam, and I, who 

 had hitherto been a mere listener, asked him how many 

 his tent would hold. " Just two Boston men — I have 

 tried it — they will fill it full, but it will hold six New 

 Yorkers easy." "Why, Sam," I replied, "I did not 

 know the Bostonians were so much larger than New 

 Yorkers." " Well, they are," said he ; "I have mea- 

 sured them with my tent. One takes up just as much 

 room as three New-Yorkers." " It seems to me," I 

 added, "that you bear the Bostonians some malice. 

 What is the matter — why don't you like them ?" He 

 drew himself up, a la Webster, and in a severe, grave 

 tone, replied : " Sir, they have got more dignity than dol- 

 lars.''' 1 Pretty fair hits, those, for a backwoodsman. 



The next morning dawned cold and drear, and a 

 drizzling rain from the north-east made lake and shore 

 look sad and sombre. I strolled out to the boat-shop, 



