ith pen and ink, and often, as is plain to see from
the manuscript itself, at considerable intervals of time; but always, as
there is no doubt, with accuracy; for William's mind, touching the
Captain's adventures, was like the susceptible heart of the Count in the
Venetian story, "wax to receive and marble to retain."

So now, after this long explanation, the reader will perceive that we
can do nothing else than report the Captain's story, without always
saying where the little party were seated at the time the Captain told
it. And, in truth, it matters little; at least so William thought, for
he wrote one day upon the page,--

"Where's the use, I'd like to know, putting in what Fred and me and
Alice did, and where we went with the 'ancient mariner'; I haven't time
to write so much, and I'll only write what the Captain said"; and so
right away he set down what follows.

* * * * *

"Now you see," resumed the Captain, "when we had done all I told you of
before,--having slept, you know, and got well rested,--we went about our
work very hopefully. But as we were going along, meditating on our
plans, the Dean stopped suddenly, and said he to me: 'Hardy, do you know
what day it is?'

"'No,' said I, 'upon my word I don't, and never once thought about it!'

"The Dean looked very sad all at once, and, not being able to see why
that should be, I asked what difference it made to us what day it was.

"'Why, a great deal of difference,' said the Dean.

"'How?' said I.

"'Why,' said the Dean, 'when shall we know when Sunday comes?'

"To be sure, how should we know when Sunday came! I had not thought of
that before; but the Dean was differently brought up from me; for, while
I had not been taught to care much about such matters, the Dean had, and
he looked upon Sunday as a day when nobody should do any sort of work. I
believe the Dean had an idea in his head, that, if it was Sunday, and he
was frozen half to death already, or starved about as badly, and should
refuse to work to save himself from death outright, he would do a
virtuous thing in sacrificing himself, and would go straight up to
heaven for certain. So I became anxious too, and for the Dean's sake, if
not for my own, I tried hard to recall what day it was."

"How very queer," said William, "to forget what day it was! How did it
happen? Won't you tell us that, Captain Hardy?"

"To be sure," said the obliging Captain,--"as