y
a score of minute excursions after hens and cats. Then he will go into
the house again, and rock while the old man finishes his coffee, sure
of a greeting, confident in a sense of entire good-fellowship, until
the meal is finished, and James Parsons is ready to take his coat and
a red-bladed oar, and set out. Then the boy is like a setter off for
a walk,--all sorts of whimsical expressions in his face, of absolute
delight; every form of extravagance in his bearing. The only trouble
is, one has to laugh too much; but with all this, something so manly, so
companionable.

He is no little of a philosopher in his way. He has been a great deal
with older people, and has caught the habit of discussion of affairs, or
rather, perhaps, of unconsciously reflecting forth discussions which he
has heard. He has an infinite curiosity upon all matters of human life.
He likes, within limits, to discuss character.

In the boat his chief delights are to talk, to eat cookies, and to
steer. When it is not blowing too hard for him to stand at the tiller,
he will steer for an hour together, watching with the most constant care
the trembling of the leach.

It makes no difference to him at what hour he returns,--from oystering
or from the cranberry-bog. If it is in the middle of the afternoon, good
and well. Instantly upon landing he will collect a troop of urchins; in
an incredibly short space of time there will be a heap of little clothes
upon the bank; in a moment a procession of small naked figures will go
running down to the wharf, diving, one after the other. If distance
or tide or a calm keeps him out late, so much the better. In that case
there is the romance of coasting along the shore by night; of counting
and distinguishing the lights; of guessing the nearness to land from the
dull roar of the sea breaking on the beach. "Don't you think," he will
sometimes say, "that we are nearer shore than we think we are?"

It is amusing sometimes, on a distant voyage of fifteen or twenty miles,
after seed oysters, when a landing is made at some little port, to see
him drop the mariner at once and become a child, with a burning
desire to find a shop where he can buy animal-crackers. Finding such
a place,--and usually it is not difficult,--he will lay in a supply of
lions and tigers, and then go marching about with great delight, with
mockery in his eyes, keenly appreciating the satire involved in eating
the head off a cooky lion, incapable o