how it was made, and think that when I grew up I should like above all
things to be a shipwright, for I had heard someone say that was the name of
the man who was building this beautiful vessel. Of course, the boats which
my brother and I used to make were only toy boats--we generally made them
of paper--but however small they were, we were very particular to give each
of them at least three tall masts. Then, when it came to sailing them,
we had to be content with any water we could find, and generally these
three-masted vessels made very short voyages, from one side of a big tub to
the other; and though, by rocking the tub, we used to manage to make pretty
stormy weather for them, they generally reached the end of their voyage in
safety. It was quite another thing when we set our vessels afloat upon what
we thought a real river, like the Thames or the Severn; but it was only a
brown stream, which, ran along the bottom of a meadow, and was crossed, not
by a bridge, but by stepping-stones. Sometimes, on a lovely day in June, we
were allowed to go down to our river, and we used to sit for hours among
the flags which grew beside it, hidden by the tall reeds and the yellow
flowers, making little green boats out of the broad leaves of the flags,
while the sound of "Cuckoo, cuckoo" came from the orchard close by.

When we had made as many boats as we could carry, each with a curly-whirly
bit of a leaf for its sail, we used to balance ourselves carefully on the
stones--for we knew that if we got wet we should not be allowed to go to
our river again--and launch our little fleet, one by one, on the brown
water, and then eagerly watch each green vessel upon its course. We wanted
them to sail across to the other side; but I need not tell you that the
river water was very far from being so calm as the water in the tub, and I
do not think many got safely over.

One little boat would start off very straight, and then suddenly stop
because it had run against some hidden rock; the greater number, in spite