breakfast, I think. Now, we will go down to the wharf."

The steamboat was less than quarter of a mile distant. It gave
three long, shrill toots of its whistle, and came straight for us.
It was a small boat, covered with flags and streamers. A brass
band, in red coats, sat in the bow playing "Sweet Marie." As the
boat came nearer I was surprised to see how few people, aside from
the band, were on it. I had expected to see a big crowd,--a picnic
gathering. Instead, there were only about two dozen people. Most
of them were men, but a few had brought their wives--nice looking
old ladies--with them.

Mr. Snider stood up on a high place, took off his black felt hat,
with a great flourish, and put on his ghastly smile. "Welcome!" he
shouted, "welcome to Rogers's Island!"

There was a big man with a frock coat and top hat standing near
the band. He must have weighed two hundred and fifty pounds, and
all his movements were slow and majestic. He took off his hat,
faced toward the people who were sitting about the deck on camp-
stools, and shouted in a deep but tremendous voice:

"Three cheers for Brother Snider!"

Then, counting "One, two, three!" and waving his tall hat in slow
circles, he gave the three cheers all by himself. No one else
opened his mouth.

The steamboat came alongside the wharf, was made fast, and a gang-
plank run out. The big man came ashore, together with another who