“‘Arcadia!’ said Abel Mallory, rolling up his large green eyes.

“‘Then,’ said Hollins, ’let us constitute ourselves the Arcadian Club!’”

—­“Aha!” interrupted Mr. Johnson, “I see!  The A.C.!”

“Yes, you see the A.C. now, but to understand it fully, you should have had a share in those Arcadian experiences....  It was a lovely afternoon in June when we first approached Arcadia....  Perkins Brown, Shelldrake’s boy-of-all-work, awaited us at the door.  He had been sent on two or three days in advance, to take charge of the house, and seemed to have had enough of hermit-life, for he hailed us with a wild whoop, throwing his straw hat half-way up one of the poplars.  Perkins was a boy of fifteen, the child of poor parents, who were satisfied to get him off their hands, regardless as to what humanitarian theories might be tested upon him.  As the Arcadian Club recognized no such thing as caste, he was always admitted to our meetings, and understood just enough of our conversation to excite a silly ambition in his slow mind....

“Our board, that evening, was really tempting.  The absence of meat was compensated to us by the crisp and racy onions, and I craved only a little salt, which had been interdicted, as a most pernicious substance.  I sat at one corner of the table, beside Perkins Brown, who took an opportunity, while the others were engaged in conversation, to jog my elbow gently.  As I turned towards him, he said nothing, but dropped his eyes significantly.  The little rascal had the lid of a blacking-box, filled with salt, upon his knee, and was privately seasoning his onions and radishes.  I blushed at the thought of my hypocrisy, but the onions were so much better that I couldn’t help dipping into the lid with him.

“‘Oh,’ said Eunice, ’we must send for some oil and vinegar!  This lettuce is very nice.’

“‘Oil and vinegar?’ exclaimed Abel.

“‘Why, yes,’ said she, innocently:  ‘they are both vegetable substances.’

“Abel at first looked rather foolish, but quickly recovering herself, said,—­

“’All vegetable substances are not proper for food:  you would not taste the poison-oak, or sit under the upas-tree of Java.’

“‘Well, Abel,’ Eunice rejoined, ’how are we to distinguish what is best for us?  How are we to know what vegetables to choose, or what animal and mineral substances to avoid?’

“‘I will tell you,’ he answered, with a lofty air.  ‘See here!’ pointing to his temple, where the second pimple—­either from the change of air, or because, in the excitement of the last few days, he had forgotten it—­was actually healed.  ’My blood is at last pure.  The struggle between the natural and the unnatural is over, and I am beyond the depraved influences of my former taste.  My instincts are now, therefore, entirely pure also.  What is good for man to eat, that I shall have a natural desire to eat:  what is bad will be naturally repelled.  How does the