WILD PEACHES 47 



laid himself liable to a fine of forty pounds ; but 

 the desire for a midnight lark, and a little stolen 

 liberty, was too much for us. After the house was 

 still, we quietly slipped out and hurried down to the 

 beach. It was a lovely moonlight night, and as warm 

 as July in Massachusetts. The sea was as calm as one 

 could wish, and the glassy surface reflected the distant 

 islands. A small boat lay at anchor a few rods from 

 shore, and to swim out to it, pull up the anchor and 

 come back, took but a few moments. Barelli took 

 the oars as I was dressing, and away we sped across 

 the " smooth and glassy tide." A sense of buoyancy, 

 far from cares of all kinds, took possession, of me ; 

 and leaning back in the boat, looking at the moonlit 

 sea, I gave myself entirely up to the enjoyment of 

 pleasant fancies. We spoke little; and Barelli rowed 

 so quietly, that there was nothing to jar on the stillness 

 of nature. A half-hour's leisurely rowing brought us 

 to the shore. 



Pulling our boat high up the beach, we started 

 up the grassy slopes. We soon found peach-trees 

 in plenty, and some were loaded with fruit. We 

 both had excellent appetites, and it would be useless 

 to try to make any one believe how many dozen peaches 

 we ate. The trees grew in scattered orchards, and 

 looked as if planted accidentally. We took off our 

 coats when we could eat no more, stuffed them with 

 green fruit to ripen afterwards, and started back to our 



