"Some folks pretend he's gone down," said Peter, in
continuation of a discourse on the subject, as he flattened
in the sheets of a very comfortable and rather spacious
sailboat, on quitting the wharf of Geneva, "and will never
come up ag'in. But they may just as well tell me that the
sky is coming down, and that we may set about picking up
the larks. That 'Jew' will no more sink than a well-corked
bottle will sink."

{picking up the larks = "When the sky falls we shall catch
larks" is an old proverb, meaning that an idea or
suggestion is ridiculous}

This was the opinion of Peter. Fuller cared but little for it,
though he still fancied he might make his companion useful
in hunting up the object of his search. These two
strangely-assorted companions cruised up and down the
Seneca for a week, vainly endeavoring to find the
"Wandering Jew." Various were the accounts they gleaned
from the different boatmen. One had heard he was to be
met with off this point; another, in that bay: all believed
he might be found, though no one had seen him lately--
some said, in many years.

"He'll turn up," said Peter, positively, "or the Seneca would
go down bows foremost. We shall light on the old chap
when we least expect it."

It must be confessed that Peter had many sufficient