disappeared. The men who were pushing the scow thought this an admirable
opportunity to pass on, and shouting to KELLEY, of Pennsylvania, to bob
his head, the gallant bark floated safely over these enthusiastic
conservators of our iron interests.

Although diverted for a time by this incident, a shadow soon began to
spread itself gradually over the mind of Mr. P. Was there, then, no
place where the subtle influence of man did not spread itself like a
noxious gas?--Where, oh, where! could one commune with his own soul, as
it were?

At length they reached Lake Drummond, that placid pool in the somnolent
shades, and Mr. P. put up at the house of a melancholy man, with a fur
cap, who lived in a cabin on the edge of the lonely water.

For supper they had catfish, and perch, and trout, and seven-up, and
euchre, and poker, and when the meal was over Mr. P. went out for a
moonlight row upon the lake. He had to make the most of his time, for it
would take him so long to get back to Nassau street, you know. He had
not paddled his scow more than half an hour over the dark but
moon-streaked waters of the lake, when he met with the maiden who, all
night long, by her firefly lamp, doth paddle her light canoe. This
estimable female steered her bark alongside the scow, and to the
startled Mr. P. she said: "Have you my tickets?"

[Illustration]

"Tickets!" cried Mr. P. "Me?--tickets? What tickets?"

"Why, one ticket, of course, on the Norfolk, Petersburg and Richmond