in a few days they would be with you, I wanted very much to accompany them.  But mother says one noisy boy in the house is sufficient. (I wonder whether she means you or James!) But as soon as they have ended their visit, if nothing happens, you may expect to see our family landing from the Julia Burton, some fine morning.  I have been pent up in the city now almost six months, and I am impatient to get into the country again—­especially among the trout-streams about your quiet little village.

I have often thought of the sport we had the day we went up to Dungeon Brook.  I know it rained hard, but the string of trout we caught beat any thing of the kind I ever happened to see.

But I’ve got some good news for you.  Father has decided to spend part of the winter at Uncle Joe’s, and he promises to take you and me with him; so you can begin to pack up your duds as soon as you wish.

That trout-pole you made for me last winter met with a serious accident a few days since.  One of my schoolmates invited me to go up the river with him, and try a perch-bed he had accidentally discovered.  I had sent off my heavy pole to the painters, so I was obliged to take my trout-pole.  I was afraid that I should break it, but it behaved beautifully for about two hours, during which time I drew in sixty fine perch and rock-bass—­some of the former weighing between one and two pounds—­and I began to think that the pole was too tough to break.  But I was very soon convinced of my mistake, for, as bad luck would have it, I hooked on to a black-bass.  I thought I handled him very carefully, but, before we could land him, he broke my pole in three pieces; but the line held, and he was soon floundering in the boat.  He was a fine fellow—­a regular “sockdologer”—­weighing six pounds and a half.  But I heartily wished him safe in the bottom of the river.  I have laid the pole away, and intend to bring it to you for repairs.

     But it is ten o’clock, and father suggests that, if I wish to
     get to the post-office before the mail closes, I had “better
     make tracks.”  So I must stop.  Love to all.

     Yours affectionately, A. Winters.

     P.S.—­Please tell Ben and Harry that I will answer their
     letters immediately.  A.W.

By this time the rest of the smugglers had arrived, and, as soon as Frank had run his eye over the letter, and began to fold it up, George inquired,

“Well, what does he say?  Did he receive Harry’s letter?”

“Yes, and also one from Ben.  He says he will answer them at once.”

After a few moments’ conversation, the boys separated, and started for home, expressing themselves highly delighted at Frank’s way of spending the Fourth.

The day on which Mrs. Sherman and her son were expected at length arrived.  As a fine breeze was blowing, Frank and his sister—­accompanied, of course, by Brave—­stepped into the Speedwell, and started to enjoy a sail on the river.