24 PBPACTON 



been little more than a mist. I was getting well 

 soaked and uncomplimentary in my remarks on the 

 weather. A saucy catbird, near by, flirted and 

 squealed very plainly, "There! there! What did 

 I tell you! what did I tell you! Pretty pickle! 

 pretty pickle ! pretty pickle to be in ! " But I had 

 been in worse pickles, though if the water had been 

 salt my pickling had been pretty thorough. Seeing 

 the wind was in the northeast, and that the weather 

 had fairly stolen a march on me, I let go my hold 

 of the tree, and paddled rapidly to the opposite 

 shore, which was low and pebbly, drew my boat 

 up on a little peninsula, turned her over upon a 

 spot which I cleared of its coarser stone, propped 

 up one end with the seat, and crept beneath. I 

 would now test the virtues of my craft as a roof, 

 and I found she was without flaw, though she was 

 pretty narrow. The tension of her timber was such 

 that the rain upon her bottom made a low, musical 

 hum. 



Crouched on my blankets and boughs, — for I 

 had gathered a good supply of the latter before the 

 rain overtook me, — and dry only about my middle, 

 I placidly took life as it came. A great blue heron 

 flew by, and let off something like ironical horse 

 laughter. Before it became dark I proceeded to eat 

 my supper, — my berries, but not my trout. What 

 a fuss we make about the " hulls " upon strawber- 

 ries! We are hypercritical; we may yet be glad to 

 dine off the hulls alone. Some people see some- 

 thing to pick and carp at in every good that comes 



