We tried the deck again, but the fog was too disagreeable to remain there, for the water fell from the ropes in such large drops, and the planks were so wet and slippery, we soon adjourned again to the cabin.

"I have to thank you, Doctor," said I, "for a most charming day at the Beaver-Dam. That was indeed a day in the woods, and I believe every one there knew how to enjoy it. How different it is from people in a town here, who go out to the country for a pic-nic! A citizen thinks the pleasure of gipseying, as they call it in England, consists solely in the abundance and variety of the viands, the quality and quantity of the wines, and as near an approach to a city dinner as it is possible to have, where there are neither tables, chairs, sideboards, nor removes. He selects his place for the encampment in the first opening adjoining the clearing, as it commands a noble view of the harbour, and there is grass enough to recline upon. The woods are gloomy, the footing is slippery, and there is nothing to be seen in a forest but trees, windfalls which are difficult to climb, and boggy ground that wets your feet, and makes you feel uncomfortable. The limbs are eternally knocking your hat off, and the spruce gum ruins your clothes, while ladies, like sheep, are for ever leaving fragments of their dress on every bush. He chooses the skirts of the forest therefore, the background is a glorious wood, and the foreground is diversified by the shipping. The o-heave-o of the sailors, as it rises and falls in the distance, is music to his ears, and suggestive of agreeable reflections, or profitable conversation peculiarly appropriate to the place and the occasion. The price of fish in the West Indies, or of deals in Liverpool, or the probable rise of flour in the market, amuse the vacant mind of himself and his partner, not his wife, for she is only his sleeping partner, but the wide-awake partner of the firm, one of those who are embraced in the comprehensive term the 'Co.' He is the depository of his secrets, the other of his complaints.

"His wife is equally happy, she enjoys it uncommonly, for she knows it will spite those horrid Mudges. She is determined not to invite them, for they make too much noise, it gives her the headache, and their flirting is too bad. Mrs White called them garrison hacks. And besides (for women always put the real reason last--they live in a postscript) they don't deserve it, for they left her girls out when they had the lobster-spearing party by torch-light, with the officers of the flag-ship, though that was no loss, for by all accounts it was a very romping party, knocking off the men's hats, and then exchanging their bonnets for them. And how any mother could allow her daughter to be held round the waist by the flag-lieutenant, while she leaned over the boat to spear the fish, is a mystery to her. The polka is bad enough, but, to her mind, that is not decent, and then she has something to whisper about it, that she says is too bad (this is a secret though, and she must whisper it, for walls have ears, and who knows but trees have, and besides, the good things are never repeated, but the too bad always is), and Mrs Black lifts up both her hands, and the whites of both eyes in perfect horror.

"'Now did you ever! Oh, is that true? Why, you don't!'

"'Lucy Green saw him with her own eyes,' and she opens her own as big as saucers.

"'And what did Miss Mudge say?'

"'Well, upon my word,' said she, 'I wonder what you will do next,' and laughed so they nearly fell overboard.

"'Oh, what carryings on, ain't it, dear? But I wonder where Sarah Matilda is? I don't see her and Captain De la Cour. I am afraid she will get lost in the woods, and that would make people talk as they did about Miss Mudge and Doctor Vincent, who couldn't find their way out once till nine o'clock at night.'

"'They'll soon get back, dear,' sais the other, 'let them be; it looks like watching them, and you know,' laying an emphasis on you, 'you and I were young once ourselves, and so they will come back when they want to, for though the woods have no straight paths in them, they have short cuts enough for them that's in a hurry. Cupid has no watch, dear; his fob is for a purse,' and she smiles wicked on the mother of the heiress.

"Well, then, who can say this is not a pleasant day to both parties? The old gentlemen have their nice snug business chat, and the old ladies have their nice snug gossip chat, and the third estate (as the head of the firm calls it, who was lately elected member for Grumble Town, and begins to talk parliamentary), the third estate, the young folks, the people of progression, who are not behind but rather ahead of the age they live in, don't they enjoy themselves? It is very hard if youth, beauty, health, good spirits, and a desire to please (because if people havn't that they had better stay to home), can't or won't make people happy. I don't mean for to go for to say that will insure it, because nothin' is certain, and I have known many a gall that resembled a bottle of beautiful wine. You will find one sometimes as enticin' to appearance as ever was, but hold it up and there is grounds there for all that, settled, but still there, and enough too to spile all, so you can't put it to your lips any how you can fix it. What a pity it is sweet things turn sour, ain't it?

"But in a general way these things will make folks happy. There are some sword-knots there, and they do look very like woodsmen, that's a fact. If you never saw a forrester, you would swear to them as perfect. A wide-awake hat, with a little short pipe stuck in it, a pair of whiskers that will be grand when they are a few years older--a coarse check or red flannel shirt, a loose neck-handkerchief, tied with a sailor's knot--a cut-away jacket, with lots of pockets--a belt, but little or no waistcoat--homespun trowsers and thick buskins--a rough glove and a delicate white hand, the real, easy, and natural gait of the woodman (only it's apt to be a little, just a little too stiff, on account of the ramrod they have to keep in their throats while on parade), when combined, actilly beat natur, for they are too nateral. Oh, these amateur woodsmen enact their part so well, you think you almost see the identical thing itself. And then they have had the advantage of Woolwich or Sandhurst, or Chobham, and are dabs at a bivouac, grand hands with an axe--cut a hop-pole down in half a day amost, and in the other half stick it into the ground. I don't make no doubt in three or four days they could build a wigwam to sleep in, and one night out of four under cover is a great deal for an amateur hunter, though it ain't the smallest part of a circumstance to the Crimea. As, it is, if a stick ain't too big for a fire, say not larger than your finger, they can break it over their knee, sooner than you could cut it with a hatchet for your life, and see how soon it's in a blaze. Take them altogether, they are a killing party of coons them, never miss a moose if they shoot out of an Indian's gun, and use a silver bullet.

"Well, then, the young ladies are equipped so nicely--they have uglies to their bonnets, the only thing ugly about them, for at a distance they look like huge green spectacles. They are very useful in the forest, for there is a great glare of the sun generally under trees; or else they have green bonnets, that look like eagle's skins; thin dresses, strong ones are too heavy, and they don't display the beauty of nature enough, they are so high, and the whole object of the party is to admire that. Their walking shoes are light and thin, they don't fatigue you like coarse ones, and India-rubbers are hideous, they make your feet look as if they had the gout; and they have such pretty, dear little aprons, how rural it looks altogether--they act a day in the woods to admiration. Three of the officers have nicknames, a very nice thing to induce good fellowship, especially as it has no tendency whatever to promote quarrels. There is Lauder, of the Rifles, he is so short, they call him Pistol; he has a year to grow yet, and may become a great gun some of these days. Russel takes a joke good-humouredly, and therefore is so fortunate as to get more than his share of them, accordingly he goes by the name of Target, as every one takes a shot at him. Duke is so bad a shot, he has twice nearly pinked the marksman, so he is called Trigger. He always lays the blame of his want of skill on that unfortunate appendage of the gun, as it is either too hard or too quick on the finger. Then there is young Bulger, and as everybody pronounces it as if it had two 'g's' in it, he corrects them and says, 'g' soft, my dear fellow, if you please; so he goes by the name of 'G' soft. Oh, the conversation of the third estate is so pretty, I could listen to it for ever.

"'Aunt,' sais Miss Diantha, 'do you know what gyp--gypsy--gypsymum--gypsymuming is? Did you ever hear how I stutter to-day? I can't get a word out hardly. Ain't it provoking?'

"Well, stammering is provoking; but a pretty little accidental impediment of speech like that, accompanied with a little graceful bob of the head, is very taking, ain't it?

"'Gypsuming,' sais the wise matron, 'is the plaster of Paris trade, dear. They carry it on at Windsor, your father says.'

"Pistol gives Target a wink, for they are honouring the party by their company, though the mother of one keeps a lodging-house at Bath, and the father of the other makes real genuine East India curry in London. They look down on the whole of the townspeople. It is natural; pot always calls kettle an ugly name.

"'No, Ma,' sais Di--all the girls address her as Di; ain't it a pretty abbreviation for a die-away young lady? But she is not a die-away lass; she is more of a Di Vernon. 'No, Ma,' sais Di, 'gipsey--ing, what a hard word it is! Mr Russel says it's what they call these parties in England. It is so like the gipsy life.'

"'There is one point,' sais Pistol, 'in which they differ.'

"'What's that?' sais Di.

"'Do you give it up?'

"'Yes.'

"'There the gipsy girls steal poultry; and here they steal hearts,' and he puts his left hand by mistake on his breast, not knowing that the pulsation there indicates that his lungs, and not his gizzard is affected, and that he is broken-winded, and not broken-hearted.

"'Very good,' every one sais; but still every one hasn't heard it, so it has to be repeated; and what is worse, as the habits of the gipsies are not known to all, the point has to be explained.

"Target sais, 'He will send it to the paper, and put Trigger's name to it,' and Pistol says, 'That is capital, for if he calls you out, he can't hit you,' and there is a joyous laugh. Oh dear, but a day in the woods is a pleasant thing. For my own part, I must say I quite agree with the hosier, who, when he first went to New Orleens, and saw such a swad of people there, said, he 'didn't onderstand how on earth it was that folks liked to live in a heap that way, altogether, where there was no corn to plant, and no bears to kill.'

"'My, oh my!' sais Miss Letitia, or Letkissyou, as Pistol used to call her. People ought to be careful what names they give their children, so as folks can't fasten nicknames on 'em. Before others the girls called her Letty, and that's well enough; but sometimes they would call her Let, which is the devil. If a man can't give a pretty fortune to his child, he can give it a pretty name at any rate.

"There was a very large family of Cards wunst to Slickville. They were mostly in the stage-coach and livery-stable line, and careless, reckless sort of people. So one day, Squire Zenas Card had a christenin' at his house.

"'Sais the Minister, 'what shall I call the child?'

"'Pontius Pilate,' said he.

"'I can't,' said the Minister, 'and I won't. No soul ever heerd of such a name for a Christian since baptism came in fashion.'

"'I am sorry for that,' said the Squire, 'for it's a mighty pretty name. I heard it once in church, and I thought if ever I had a son I'de call him after him; but if I can't have that--and it's a dreadful pity--call him Trump;' and he was christenened Trump Card.

"'Oh my!' sais Miss Letitia, lispin', 'Captain De la Cour has smashed my bonnet, see, he is setting upon it. Did you ever?'

"'Never,' said Di, 'he has converted your cottage bonnet into a country seat, I do declare!'

"Everybody exclaimed, 'That is excellent,' and Russel said, 'Capital, by Jove.'

"'That kind of thing,' said De la Cour, 'is more honoured in the breach than the observance;' and winked to Target.

"Miss Di is an inveterate punster, so she returns to the charge.

"'Letty, what fish is that, the name of which would express all you said about your bonnet?--do you give it up? A bon-net-o!' (Boneto).

"'Well, I can't fathom that,' sais De la Cour.

"'I don't wonder at that,' sais the invincible Di; 'it is beyond your depth, for it is an out-of-soundings fish.'

"Poor De la Cour, you had better let her alone, she is too many guns for you. Scratch your head, for your curls and your name are all that you have to be proud of. Let her alone, she is wicked, and she is meditating a name for you and Pistol that will stick to you as long as you live, she has it on the tip of her tongue--'The babes in the wood.'

"Now for the baskets--now for the spread. The old gentlemen break up their Lloyds' meeting--the old ladies break up their scandal club--the young ladies and their beaux are busy in arrangements, and though the cork-screws are nowhere to be found, Pistol has his in one of the many pockets of his woodsman's coat, he never goes without it (like one of his mother's waiters), which he calls his young man's best companion; and which another, who was a year in an attorney's office, while waiting for his commission, calls the crown circuit assistant; and a third, who has just arrived in a steamer, designates as the screw propeller. It was a sensible provision, and Miss Di said, 'a corkscrew and a pocket-pistol were better suited to him than a rifle,' and every one said it was a capital joke that--for everybody likes a shot that don't hit themselves.

"'How tough the goose is!' sais G soft. 'I can't carve it.'

"'Ah!' sais Di, 'when Greek meets Greek, then comes the tug of war.'

"Eating and talking lasts a good while, but they don't last for ever. The ladies leave the gentlemen to commence their smoking and finish their drinking, and presently there is a loud laugh; it's more than a laugh, it's a roar; and the ladies turn round and wonder.

"Letty sais, 'When the wine is in, the wit is out.'

"'True," sais Di, 'the wine is there, but when you left them the wit went out.'

"'Rather severe,' said Letty.

"'Not at all,' sais Di, 'for I was with you.'

"It is the last shot of poor Di. She won't take the trouble to talk well for ladies, and those horrid Mudges have a party on purpose to take away all the pleasant men. She never passed so stupid a day. She hates pic-nics, and will never go to one again. De la Cour is a fool, and is as full of airs as a night-hawk is of feathers. Pistol is a bore; Target is both poor and stingy; Trigger thinks more of himself than anybody else; and as for G soft, he is a goose. She will never speak to Pippen again for not coming. They are a poor set of devils in the garrison; she is glad they are to have a new regiment.

"Letty hasn't enjoyed herself either, she has been devoured by black flies and musquitoes, and has got her feet wet, and is so tired she can't go to the ball. The sleeping partner of the head of the firm is out of sorts, too. Her crony-gossip gave her a sly poke early in the day, to show her she recollected when she was young (not that she is so old now either, for she knows the grave gentleman who visits at her house is said to like the mother better than the daughter), but before she was married, and friends who have such wonderful memories are not very pleasant companions, though it don't do to have them for enemies. But then, poor thing, and she consoles herself with the idea the poor thing has daughters herself, and they are as ugly as sin, and not half so agreeable. But it isn't that altogether. Sarah Matilda should not have gone wandering out of hearing with the captain, and she must give her a piece of her mind about it, for there is a good deal of truth in the old saying, 'If the girls won't run after the men, the men will run after them;' so she calls out loudly, 'Sarah Matilda, my love, come here, dear,' and Sarah Matilda knows when the honey is produced, physic is to be taken, but she knows she is under observation, and so she flies to her dear mamma, with the feet and face of an angel, and they gradually withdraw.

"'Dear ma, how tired you look.'

"'I am not tired, dear.'

"'Well, you don't look well; is anything the matter with you?'

"'I didn't say I wasn't well, and it's very rude to remark on one's looks that way.'

"'Something seems to have put you out of sorts, ma, I will run and call pa. Dear me, I feel frightened. Shall I ask Mrs Bawdon for her salts?'

"'You know very well what's the matter; it's Captain De la Cour.'

"'Well, now, how strange,' said Sarah Matilda. 'I told him he had better go and walk with you; I wanted him to do it; I told him you liked attention. Yes, I knew you would be angry, but it isn't my fault. It ain't, indeed.'

"'Well, I am astonished,' replies the horrified mother. 'I never in all my life. So you told him I liked attention. I, your mother, your father's wife, with my position in societee; and pray what answer did he make to this strange conduct?'

"'He said, No wonder, you were the handsomest woman in town, and so agreeable; the only one fit to talk to.'

"'And you have the face to admit you listened to such stuff?'

"'I could listen all day to it, ma, for I knew it was true. I never saw you look so lovely, the new bishop has improved your appearance amazingly.'

"'Who?' said the mother, with an hysterical scream; 'what do you mean?'

"'The new bustler, ma.'

"'Oh,' said she, quite relieved, 'oh, do you think so?'

"'But what did you want of me, ma?'

"'To fasten my gown, dear, there is a hook come undone.'

"'Coming,' she said, in a loud voice.

"There was nobody calling, but somebody ought to have called; so she fastens the hook, and flies back as fast as she came.

"Sarah Matilda, you were not born yesterday; first you put your mother on the defensive, and then you stroked her down with the grain, and made her feel good all over, while you escaped from a scolding you know you deserved. A jealous mother makes an artful daughter. But, Sarah Matilda, one word in your ear. Art ain't cleverness, and cunning ain't understanding. Semblance only answers once; the second time the door ain't opened to it.

"Henrietta is all adrift, too; she is an old maid, and Di nicknamed her 'the old hen.' She has been shamefully neglected today. The young men have been flirting about with those forward young girls--children--mere children, and have not had the civility to exchange a word with her. The old ladies have been whispering gossip all day, and the old gentlemen busy talking about freights, the Fall-catch of mackarel, and ship-building. Nor could their talk have been solely confined to these subjects, for once when she approached them, she heard the head of the firm say:

"'The 'lovely lass' must be thrown down and scraped, for she is so foul, and her knees are all gone.'

"And so she turned away in disgust. Catch her at a pic-nic again! No, never! It appears the world is changed; girls in her day were never allowed to romp that way, and men used to have some manners. Things have come to a pretty pass!

"'Alida, is that you, dear? You look dull.'

"'Oh, Henrietta! I have torn my beautiful thread-lace mantilla all to rags; it's ruined for ever. And do you know--oh, I don't know how I shall ever dare to face ma again! I have lost her beautiful little enamelled watch. Some of these horrid branches have pulled it off the chain.' And Alida cries and is consoled by Henrietta, who is a good-natured creature after all. She tells her for her comfort that nobody should ever think of wearing a delicate and expensive lace mantilla in the woods; she could not expect anything else than to have it destroyed; and as for exposing a beautiful gold watch outside of her dress, nobody in her senses would have thought of such a thing. Of course she was greatly comforted: kind words and a kind manner will console any one.

"It is time now to re-assemble, and the party are gathered once more; and the ladies have found their smiles again, and Alida has found her watch; and there are to be some toasts and some songs before parting. All is jollity once more, and the head of the firm and his vigilant partner and the officers have all a drop in their eye, and Henrietta is addressed by the junior partner, who is a bachelor of about her own age, and who assures her he never saw her look better; and she looks delighted, and is delighted, and thinks a pic-nic not so bad a thing after all.

"But there is a retributive justice in this world. Even pic-nic parties have their moral, and folly itself affords an example from which a wise saw may be extracted. Captain de Courlay addresses her, and after all, he has the manners and appearance of a gentleman, though it is whispered he is fond of practical jokes, pulls 'colt ensigns' out of bed, makes them go through their sword exercise standing shirtless in their tubs, and so on. There is one redeeming thing in the story, if it be true, he never was known to do it to a young nobleman; he is too well bred for that. He talks to her of society as it was before good-breeding was reformed out of the colonies. She is delighted; but, oh! was it stupidity, or was it insolence, or was it cruelty? he asked her if she recollected the Duke of Kent. To be sure it is only fifty-two years since he was here; but to have recollected him! How old did he suppose she was? She bears it well and meekly. It is not the first time she has been painfully reminded she was not young. She says her grandmother often spoke of him as a good officer and a handsome man; and she laughs, though her heart aches the while, as if it was a good joke to ask her. He backs out as soon as he can. He meant well, though he had expressed himself awkwardly; but to back out shows you are in the wrong stall, a place you have no business in, and being out, he thinks it as well to jog on to another place.

"Ah, Henrietta! you were unkind to Alida about her lace mantilla and her gold watch, and it has come home to you. You ain't made of glass, and nothing else will hold vinegar long without being corroded itself.

"Well, the toasts are drunk, and the men are not far from being drunk too, and feats of agility are proposed, and they jump up and catch a springing bow, and turn a somerset on it, or over it, and they are cheered and applauded when De Courlay pauses in mid-air for a moment, as if uncertain what to do. Has the bough given way, or was that the sound of cloth rent in twain? Something has gone wrong, for he is greeted with uproarious cheers by the men, and he drops on his feet, and retires from the company as from the presence of royalty, by backing out and bowing as he goes, repeatedly stumbling, and once or twice falling in his retrograde motion.

"Ladies never lose their tact--they ask no questions because they see something is amiss, and though it is hard to subdue curiosity, propriety sometimes restrains it. They join in the general laugh however, for it can be nothing serious where his friends make merry with it. When he retires from view, his health is drank with three times three. Di, who seemed to take pleasure in annoying the spinster, said she had a great mind not to join in that toast, for he was a loose fellow, otherwise he would have rent his heart and not his garments. It is a pity a clever girl like her will let her tongue run that way, for it leads them to say things they ought not. Wit in a woman is a dangerous thing, like a doctor's lancet, it is apt to be employed about matters that offend our delicacy, or hurt our feelings."

"'What the devil is that?' said the head, of the firm, looking up, as a few drops of rain fell. 'Why, here is a thunder-shower coming on us as sure as the world. Come, let us pack up and be off.'

"And the servants are urged to be expeditious, and the sword-knots tumble the glasses into the baskets, and the cold hams atop of them, and break the decanters, to make them stow better, and the head of the firm swears, and the sleeping partner says she will faint, she could never abide thunder; and Di tells her if she does not want to abide all night, she had better move, and a vivid flash of lightning gives notice to quit, and tears and screams attest the notice is received, and the retreat is commenced; but alas, the carriages are a mile and a half off, and the tempest rages, and the rain falls in torrents, and the thunder stuns them, and the lightning blinds them.

"'What's the use of hurrying?' says Di, 'we are now wet through, and our clothes are spoiled, and I think we might take it leisurely. Pistol, take my arm, I am not afraid of you now.'

"'Why?'

"'Your powder is wet, and you can't go off. You are quite harmless. Target, you had better run.'

"'Why?'

"'You will be sure to be hit if you don't--won't he, Trigger?'

"But Pistol, and Target, and Trigger are alike silent. G soft has lost his softness, and lets fall some hard terms. Every one holds down his head, why, I can't understand, because being soaked, that attitude can't dry them.

"'Uncle,' says Di, to the head of the firm, 'you appear to enjoy it, you are buttoning up your coat as if you wanted to keep the rain in.'

"'I wish you would keep your tongue in,' he said, gruffly.

"'I came for a party of pleasure,' said the unconquerable girl, 'and I think there is great fun in this. Hen, I feel sorry for you, you can't stand the wet as those darling ducks can. Aunt will shake herself directly, and be as dry as an India rubber model.'

"Aunt is angry, but can't answer--every clap of thunder makes her scream. Sarah Matilda has lost her shoe, and the water has closed over it, and she can't find it. 'Pistol, where is your corkscrew? draw it out.'

"'It's all your fault,' sais the sleeping partner to the head of the firm, 'I told you to bring the umbrellas.'

"'It's all yours,' retorts the afflicted husband, 'I told you these things were all nonsense, and more trouble than they were worth.'

"'It's all Hen's fault,' said Di, 'for we came on purpose to bring her out; she has never been at a pic-nic before, and it's holidays now. Oh! the brook has risen, and the planks are gone, we shall have to wade; Hen, ask those men to go before, I don't like them to see above my ancles.'

"'Catch me at a pic-nic again,' said the terrified spinster.

"'You had better get home from this first, before you talk of another,' sais Di.

"'Oh, Di, Di,' said Henrietta, 'how can you act so?'

"'You may say Di, Di, if you please, dear,' said the tormentor; 'but I never say die--and never will while there is life in me. Letty, will you go to the ball to-night? we shall catch cold if we don't; for we have two miles more of the rain to endure in the open carriages before we reach the steamer, and we shall be chilled when we cease walking.'

"But Letty can do nothing but cry, as if she wasn't wet enough already.

"'Good gracious!' sais the head of the house, 'the horses have overturned the carriage, broke the pole, and run away.'

"'What's the upset price of it, I wonder?' sais Di, 'the horses will make 'their election sure;' they are at the 'head of the pole, they are returned and they have left no trace behind.' I wish they had taken the rain with them also.'

"'It's a pity you wouldn't rein your tongue in also,' said the fractious uncle.

"'Well, I will, Nunky, if you will restrain your choler. De Courcy, the horses are off at a 'smashing pace;' G soft, it's all dickey with us now, ain't it? But that milk-sop, Russel, is making a noise in his boots, as if he was 'churning butter.' Well, I never enjoyed anything so much as this in my life; I do wish the Mudges had been here, it is the only thing wanting to make this pic-nic perfect. What do you say, Target?'

"But Target don't answer, he only mutters between his teeth something that sounds like, 'what a devil that girl is!' Nobody minds teasing now; their tempers are subdued, and they are dull, weary, and silent--dissatisfied with themselves, with each other, and the day of pleasure.

"How could it be otherwise? It is a thing they didn't understand, and had no taste for. They took a deal of trouble to get away from the main road as far as possible; they never penetrated farther into the forest than to obtain a shade, and there eat an uncomfortable cold dinner, sitting on the ground, had an ill-assorted party, provided no amusements, were thoroughly bored, and drenched to the skin--and this some people call a day in the bush.

"There is an old proverb, that has a hidden meaning in it, that is applicable to this sort of thing--'As a man calleth in the woods, so it shall be answered to him.'"