we wandered on the beach, or explored the tropical recesses of the
palmetto woods; every evening the boatman rowed over to the light-house
to have a bit of gossip, and to take thither the fish we did not need;
every day the sun was soft and warm, and the sky was blue; and every
morning, going oceanward, and every evening, going landward, seven
pelicans flew slowly by our camp.

My greatest desire at this time was to shoot a pelican, to have him
properly prepared, and to take him to Rudder Grange, where, suitably
set up, with his wings spread out, full seven feet from tip to tip, he
would be a grand trophy and reminder of these Indian River days. This
was the reason why, nearly every morning and every evening, I took a
shot at these seven pelicans. But I never hit one of them. We had only
a shot-gun, and the pelicans flew at a precautionary distance; but,
being such big birds, they always looked to me much nearer than they
were. Euphemia earnestly desired that I should have a pelican, and
although she always wished I should hit one of these, she was always
glad when I did not.

"Think how mournful it would be," she said, "if they should take their
accustomed flights, morning and evening, with one of their number
missing."

"Repeating Wordsworth's verses, I suppose," remarked the little
teacher.

I had been disappointed in the number of pelicans we had seen. I knew
that Florida was one of the homes of the pelican, and I had not
expected to see these birds merely in small detachments. But our
boatman assured me that on our return trip he would give me a chance of
seeing and shooting as many pelicans as I could desire. We would
touch at Pelican Island, which was inhabited entirely by these birds,
and whence the parties of seven were evidently sent out.

When we had had all the fishing we wanted, we broke up our camp, and
started northward. We had all been very happy and contented during our
ten days' sojourn in this delightful place; but when at last our
departure was determined upon, the Paying Teller became possessed with
a wild desire to go, go, go. There was some reason, never explained nor
fully expressed, why no day, hour, minute, or second should be lost in
speeding to the far Northwest. The boatman, too, impelled by what
impulse I know not, seemed equally anxious to get home. As for the
Paying Teller's "group," it always did exactly as he wished. Therefore,
although Euphemia and I would have been glad to l