h of time, Kitty excepted. It is
true, the pork and the poultry would be somewhat fishy; but that would
be a novelty, and should it prove disagreeable on tasting it, a little
clean feeding, at the proper moment, would correct the flavour.

But the principal cargo of the dingui was not the dozen fish mentioned.
Bob had nearly filled the boat with a sort of vegetable loam, that he
had found lodged in the cavity of one of the largest rocks, and which,
from the signs around the place, he supposed to have been formed by
deposits of sea-weed. By an accident of nature, this cavity in the rock
received a current, which carried large quantities of floating weed
_into_ it, while every storm probably had added to its stores since the
mass had risen above the common level of the sea, by throwing fresh
materials on to the pile, by means of the waves, nothing quitting it.
Bob reported that there were no signs of vegetation around the rock,
which circumstance, however, was easily enough accounted for by the salt
water that was incessantly moistening the surface, and which, while it
took with it the principle of future, was certain to destroy all
present, vegetable life; or, all but that which belongs exclusively to
aquatic plants.

"How much of this muck do you suppose is to be found on your rock, Bob?"
asked Mark, after he had examined the dingui's cargo, by sight, taste,
and smell. "If is surprisingly like a rich earth, if it be not actually
so."

"Lord bless you, Mr. Mark, there is enough on't to fill the old 'Cocus,
ag'in and ag'in. How deep it is, I don't pretend to know; but it's a
good hundred paces across it, and the spot is as round as that there
chimbly, that you call a cr'ature."

"If that be the case, we will try our hands at it next week, and see
what can be done with an importation. I do not give up the blessed hope
of the boat, Bob--that you will always bear in mind--but it is best to
keep an eye on the means of living, should it please God to prevent our
getting to sea again."

"To sea, Mr. Mark, neither you nor I, nor any mortal man will ever get,
in the old 'Cocus ag'in, as I know by the looks of things outside of us.
'Twill never do to plant in my patch, however, for the salt water must
wash it whenever it blows; though a very little work, too, might keep it
out, when I come to think on it. Sparrow-grass would grow there, as it
is, desperately well; and Friend Abraham White had both seeds and roots
put up for