THE CoMMODORE AND CREW. 305 

sky, we dip along leisurely to camp. And it looks very 
inviting as we approach the home spot this afternoon, pretty 
well satisfied with our day’s catch, and yet mindful of the 
pleasure enjoyed from seeing much that was beautiful, and 
many a bit of interest on the way. 
«Ahoy! the camp. Well, Mr. Crew, we have had an 
enjoyable day, and I take it you have been pleased, and are 
feeling gay?” 
‘Well pleased, worthy Commodore, and always, mostly 
always, well pleased with the chief of the squadron, and 
wonder fully well satisfied with the crew. 
With the first peep of day in the east, the night’s dark 
shadows begin to show; lying beside each other upon the 
leaves, as we awake and lie quietly, listening to one of our 
little feathery friends, the wood robin (or wood thrush) and 
his oft-repeated ** Chat! chat!” and his few, short, liquid 
notes of melody, continued from time to time, hints strongly 
of rain when he sings so much in the morning. Slowly 
comes the morning light; the shadows begin to take some 
form, and we can make out a ripple on the lake, from 
between the trees. An early squirrel has left his warm nest, 
skipped by our feet, and is now in the top of the spruce 
beside the tent, biting off and pelting us with the bright 
cones. He flips them over his head without regard to where 
they fall, knowing his bright eyes can find them all after- 
ward; one thumping on the back log, glances in, and 
telegraphs the Commodore; ,another drops upon the tent, 
bouncing off, and striking so near his head, outside the tent 
upon the leaves, that he is now wide awake for the first time, 
since he lighted his cigar, and wiped the supper dishes. The 
noisy blue jay flies about this morning without his usual 
