A fair where thousands meet, but none can stay;--(_Fawkes_.)

To sport their season, and be seen no more,--(_Cowper_.)

Till tired they sleep, and life's poor play is o'er.--(_Pope_.)




CHAPTER X.

ADVENTURES IN MOSQUITO-LAND.


At the close of the school in July, 1870, a friend of mine, Doctor
B----, of Boston, and I, attracted by the alluring prospectus of a
new town near Plymouth, North Carolina, visited that place via the
Merchant's and Miner's steamship line.

I wrote an account of this pleasure excursion, which was widely copied
by northern newspapers in which I figured as the professor and he as
the doctor, while both of us combined were called the "Shoo-Fly
Club." I quote some extracts from the description of this remarkable
excursion.

"On the early morning after our arrival in the Southland, doctor and
professor, after a brief sojourn in the arms of Morpheus, awoke to a
contest which was enough to daunt the stoutest heart.

"Mosquitoes to the right of them, mosquitoes to the left of them,