"How wite them looks! An' if you'll blieve it, mine was jest as clean
yis'day mornin',--an' now you look at 'em!" To facilitate which
inspection, the speaker conscientiously drew up his corduroys, so as
fully to display a pair of home-knit socks, which certainly had wofully
deteriorated from the condition ascribed to them "yis'day mornin'."

"You see, I went clammin' las' night," pursued Youth; "an' that's death
on clo's."

"What's clammin'?" inquired the Baron, changing the subject with
unconscious tact, and quite surprised at the admiring kiss bestowed upon
him by his mother, while Youth, readjusting his corduroys, replied with
astonishment,--

"Clammin'? Wy, clammin's goin' arter clams; didn't ye never eat no
clam-chowder?"

"N-o, I don't think I ever did," replied the Baron, reflectively. "Is it
like ice-cream?"

"Well, I never eat none o' that, so I dunno," was the reply; and Youth
and Child, each regarding the other with wondering pity, relapsed into
silence.

Having now passed from the township of Holmes's Hole into Tisbury, the
road lay through what would have been an oak forest, except that none of
the trees exceeded some four feet in height,--Youth affirming this to be
their mature growth, and that no larger ones had grown since the forest
was cleared by the original settlers. A few miles more were slowly