etours in various bays and
smaller streams.

"I will examine this at my leisure; for I am called to the house of
Colonel Shepard by Mr. Garningham," I continued. "Very likely he
desires to give me instructions in regard to the up-river trip. If he
does, I wish to see you as soon as I return; and I may not be gone more
than an hour."

Cornwood made no reply; but I saw that he was biting his lip. My
request was equivalent to an order to remain on board, and he was not
exactly in position to set my wishes at defiance. I went ashore as soon
as a boat could be dropped into the water, and hastened to the house of
the Colonel. Owen said he was very glad to see me; and from the
excitement of his manner, I judged that something was in the wind.

"To-morrow will be Saturday," said he, walking up and down the parlor
where I had seated myself. "The same party we had to-day, including the
Silver Cornet Band, will make a little run up the river, and stop for a
while at Mrs. Mitchell's place, if it is practicable, with a dinner at
four o'clock."

"It is not practicable----"

"It is not practicable!" exclaimed Owen, stopping in front of me.

"You did not hear me out, my dear charterer of the Sylvania," I
replied, amused at the sudden check put upon his enthusiasm. "It is not
practicable to run the steamer up to the pier at Mrs. Mitchell's place;
but we can land the passengers in the boats. Of course we can go up the
river as far as Pilatka, and perhaps farther."

"We don't want to go up to--what's that place you mentioned? I have
heard of it before, and it is forty or fifty miles up," added Owen, who
had been too busy looking after Miss Edith to pay any attention to the
geography of the State.

"The place is Pilatka; and it is seventy-five miles up."

"It would take all day to go to Pilatka; besides, I don't wish to spoil
all the fun of the trip we are to take next week. There's a Chinese
town or city, where Mrs. What's-her-name lives, about a dozen miles
up," continued my cousin.

"A Chinese town? There are no Chinamen of any consequence in Florida."

"No, no! A town with a Chinese name, where the lady that wrote _Uncle
Tom's Cabin_ lives," interposed Owen impatiently.

"Mandarin," I added, after I had consulted a pamphlet guide I had
picked up in one of the hotels. "It is fifteen miles from here."

"That's the place; and it is just the right distance!" exclaimed Owen.
"We will go to Mandarin. By the way, you must have