along, but the yacht went through the
ripple like a wild swan, cutting through the
water with her knife-like bows, and heeling
prettily to the breath of the south-easter.
Although I had hauled down the star-spangled
flag of America, and had replaced it with a
small British ensign and a plain blue burgoo,
the people watched our departure with some
sympathy, and a few Irish stevedores gave me
a cheer as the schooner gathered way. One
well-dressed man on a lean horse eyed us with
remarkable interest, scanning our motions through
a pocket-telescope. Something in the mien or
features of this personage attracted my notice. He
was a good-looking large-whiskered man of
thirty-five: tall, dark, and with hawk's eyes and
an aquiline nose. He wore a white hat, a green
coat, and trousers and waistcoat of unbleached
linen—a very sensible hot-weather costume, but
not American. Indeed, he was quite a shining
speck among the creased black suits and
crumpled satin vests, the "goatee" beards, and
the lean yellow faces, of those around him.

"That man is from the old country," said I
to myself, and then steered the schooner a point
nearer the wind, and forgot, him. Little did I
think how our future fates would become
involved! The wind was light, and not
favourable, and it took many hours to beat
across to the Canada shore. My home was at
the north-eastern angle of Lake Erie, between
the stirring town of Dover and that smaller
settlement which has assumed the aspiring
name of Niagara. I had the advantage of
a creek and a commodious bay on my own
property, where twenty Constellations might
have lain at anchor, secure from spiteful squalls.
There we moored the schooner; my
supernumeraries were paid and dismissed; and
before three days were out, I had a regular
crew. Crew, however, is almost too ambitious
a word whereby to designate an old man-of-
war's man, half worn out, but still active and
resolute, and a stout colonial lad. Such as they
were—old Bill and young Eli—they cost me but
little in the way of cash, being housed in a sort
of wooden barracks where my labourers lived,
and drawing regular rations from the store
which my foreman superintended.

Harvest was coming on; some large lots of
timber had been felled in the woods; and the
process of squaring, hauling, and raft-making,
demanded the master's eye. So some little time
elapsed, during which I was unable to use the
yacht, and she lay at anchor, taut and trim, a
provoking little beauty coaxing one to a holiday
excursion.

The corn being cut, and the pines having been
transformed from live spires of darkling green
to yellowish logs floating in the smooth water
of the creek, I began to feel myself more at
liberty to avail myself of my new acquisition.
I am of a companionable nature, and should have
been glad of a friend or two to cruise with me.
But, unluckily, summer is the season for work
among the Canadians, who look on their long
winter as the time for play, and I could find no
one disengaged. There was but a small detachment
of military then quartered in the district,
and the solitary subaltern could not venture to
give himself leave of absence and abandon his
command, even for a day. I should have been
obliged to remain on shore, or to put forth
alone, but for an acquaintance which I made
fortuitously in the public billiard-room at Dover.
This was with the tall dark hawk-eyed gentleman
whom I had seen for a moment on horseback on
the quay of Buffalo, and who was now touring
through the western districts of Canada. He
was, as I had conjectured, of British birth, and
gave his name Mr. Gartmore. But, although
of English, or rather Irish, extraction, Mr.
Gartmore had been so long in America that he
had learned the Yankee habits of grammar and
pronunciation, and had roamed about the States
from Michigan to Florida. It was after a dinner
at the Victoria—then, as now, the chief hotel
in Dover—that I gave my new friend an invitation
to take a cruise with me in the schooner.

"I'd be very happy, slick away felicitous,
now, to accept your hospitality," said Mr. Gartmore,
"only the governor-general will be waiting
for me at Quebec, you see," here he dropped
his voice and looked mysterious; "there are
messages to be conveyed from somebody I
won't particular, not a thousand miles from
Washington, that can't be thrusted to the
post."

My comrade had the oddest way of mixing
Hibernianisms with Pennsylvanian phrases, that
I remember, and at another time I might have
laughed at the broad hint that he was a secret
emissary of the British legation at Washington.
But it does not do to be over-critical in a
new country; the man was amusing, and I had
no reason to regard him with mistrust. I
pressed Mr. Gartmore to go with me on a
cruise, and, after some little parley, he closed
with the invitation. "The Quebec folks," he
said (he did not again allude to the Governor-
General of the Canadas), "must just keep their
impatience cool for a few days. It was but
putting high-pressure speed on, when he did start,
and he should reach the capital in time to make
all square."

So, to sea, or rather to lake, we put, in the
schooner yacht, well provisioned. It was a
pleasant trip we had. The leaves were reddening fast,
on millions of beech and maple trees, on sumach
and creeping vine; and the scarlet tints of a
portion of the forest made a rich contrast with
the sombre green of the pine and the light green
of the spruce fir. The winds were light and
variable, exactly the weather best adapted to
display the sailing qualities of the yacht, and
the broad grey sheet of water, glimmering
like opal at sunset, made a fine framework for
the rocky birch-crested islets. Mr. Gartmore
proved an agreeable companion. He could sing
well, played the key-bugle better than a mail-
coach guard, was very skilful at all games from
draughts to piquet, and had plenty of anecdotes
to tell. Altogether, he pleased me much, and
when we landed on the forest-fringed north-