ion was none of the pleasantest. There
he sat upon the top of his rock, with scarcely room to turn around,
with a wide sweep of deep water between him and the nearest land, the
fish utterly refusing to bite, and the sun blazing down upon him with
heat like a furnace, as it crept with its snail's pace across the sky.
At first he was inclined to smile at his ridiculous situation, all
alone there on the rock; but as the wind died away, and the sun poured
his burning rays right down upon him, and he panted and sweat under
its sweltering influences, he began to feel a little more serious.
Hours glided away, and the sun crept slowly along down the heavens,
but still no boat made its appearance.

"The sun hid itself behind the hills on the West, and still he was
alone. The shadows crept up the mountain peaks that stand up like
grim giants away off in the East, and twilight began to throw its grey
mantle over the lake; still he was alone. The darkness began to gather
around him; the forests along the shore to lose their distinctness and
to stand in sombre and shadowy outline above the water; still no
prospect of relief presented itself. The twilight faded from the West,
the stars stole out in the heavens, the milky way stretched its belt
of light across the sky, and there he sat alone still on his rock, the
night dews falling around him, and the night voices of the forest
coming solemnly out over the water. Things had now assumed a serious
aspect. He could not stretch his limbs save by standing erect, and it
seemed inevitable that he must watch the stars during the night, as he
had watched the sun during the day. To sleep there was out of the
question. There was no room for a sleeping posture, and the danger of
rolling down the rock into the water kept him wide awake. At length
the pleasant sound of oars, and voices in jolly converse, fell upon
his ear, and he shouted. Two sportsmen were returning from the Upper
Lakes, and right welcome was the answer they returned to his call. He
was glad enough to be released from his rock, upon which, as he said,
'he had made up his mind that he should be compelled to roost, like a
turkey on the ridge of a barn, for the night.'

"To go back from this digression," continued the Doctor, "I repeat
that every man has a vein of the vagabond, a streak of the savage in
him, which can never be clean wiped out. Educate him, polish him as
you may, it will be in him still, and he will love to go off i