hances, that when, in the long future,
it shall have attained the full strength and maturity of life, when
manhood shall be in the glory and strength of its prime, and it looks
forward into the dark cloud beyond, and backward into the bright
sunshine of the past, the aspiration, the hope will change into
regret, and the yearning of the heart, speaking from its silent
depths, will be, 'would I were a boy again!'"

CHAPTER XXVIII.

HEADED DOWN STREAM--RETURN TO TUPPER'S LAKE--THE CAMP ON THE ISLAND.

We started down stream again at six o'clock in the morning, intending,
if possible, to reach Tupper's Lake before encamping for the night. It
would make for us a busy day to accomplish so much; but going down
stream and down hill are very different things from going up, as any
gentleman may satisfy himself by rowing against a current of two miles
the hour, or toiling up an ascent of three or four hundred feet to the
mile, and then retracing his steps. We accomplished more than half the
distance, and that over the worst of the journey, by twelve o'clock,
and we halted for dinner and a _siesta_. If there is one thing in life
which can lay any claim to being considered a positive luxury, it is a
nap on a mossy bank, in the deep shadows of the forest trees, after a
hearty meal, of a warm summer day. There should be, in order to its
full appreciation, a mixture of weariness with a due proportion of
laziness. Too much of either detracts from the enjoyment of its
beatitudes. To _feel_ the sensation of resting, that weariness is
leaving you, and that the process of recuperation is an active, living
agency, going on all through the system, while the natural love of
repose is being gratified as an independent emotion, constitute the
very perfection of mere animal enjoyment. The musquitoes at midday
have gone to their rest, or if a straggler comes buzzing and singing
about your ears, you are lulled rather than disturbed by his song. If
he takes his drop of blood from your veins, the tickling of his tiny
lance is but a pleasant titilation, and you let him feed on, almost
grateful for his kindness in keeping you from sleeping too soundly, or
losing in utter oblivion the full extent of the luxury of
perfect repose.

After an hour's rest, we launched our little fleet upon the river
again, and while the sun was yet above the western highlands, we stood
upon the broad flat rock at the mouth of Bog River, looking out over
Tupper's