Oh, may more kindly words be said
  Than in the twelve-month that has fled;
  Far better, braver deeds be done
  Than then in “1891.”

  What hath this year of loss or gain? 
  Who knoweth?  What of boon or bane? 
  Life’s thread may bright or dark be spun,
  Ah, shrouded “1891!”

But faith is strong though sight is dim;
We gladly leave the days with Him,
And, trusting, wait the sands to run
Of hopeful “1891.”

[This Story began in No. 4.]

Schooner Sailing and Beach Combing;

or,

LEE HOLLAND’S ADVENTURES.

by EDWARD SHIPPEN, M.D.,

Author of “Cast Away in the Ice,” “The
Yacht Grapeshot,” “Tiger Island and
Elsewhere,” “Jack Peters’ Adventures
in Africa,” etc., etc.

CHAPTER VI.

Lee now began to feel hungry and tired, so he let the boat drift while he sat down and ate the lunch which the old woman had provided with such very different intentions; and after that was finished, he fell sound asleep in the stern-sheets, only to be awakened by the chill of the dawn.  Sitting up, he saw that the Sound was covered by a dense mist, and all around him were flocks of wild ducks, settled upon the water, but which flew off as soon as he moved.

While he sat looking at the sky, growing brighter in the east, and trying to make up his mind in what direction Plymouth lay, he heard the dip of a paddle, and then he saw coming up through the mist a dug-out canoe, in which sat a venerable-looking old negro.

[Illustration:  “I’VE RUN AWAY FROM A SCHOONER ABOVE HERE, AND I WANT TO GET TO PLYMOUTH.”]

“Hillo!” said Lee.

The old fellow started as if he had been shot and peered about until he saw the boat.

“Hillo, sah! hillo!” he answered, and then paddled nearer.  “Now I can’t say as I rightly knows you, sah; an’ I knows most everybody round here.  Duck-shootin’ maybe?  Is you one o’ de Talbots?”

“No; I’m not duck-shooting, and I’m not one of the Talbots.”

“What you doin’ out here in de cold mornin’, den, boy?  Dat boat come from some wessel, I see.  An’ dear knows it would be quare if you was a Talbot, an’ I didn’t know you.  I belonged to old man Talbot onst.”

“No, no, old man!  I tell you I’m no Talbot.  I’ve run away from a schooner above here, and I want to get to Plymouth.”

“Laws a massy!  Why, I runned away myself, afore de wah.  Was fo’ year in de Dismal Swamp, an’ had a good time dere, too, honey.  We had plenty o’ possum an’ chickens an’ corn-meal toted by colored folks we knowed, an’ put whar we could find it.  An’ we had sweet potatoes, an’ simlins, an’ water-millions, an’ berries, an’ grapes, an’ wild plums, an’ wild hogs, an’ fish.  Don’t know as ever I’d ’a come out ef it hadn’t ’a be’n de wah freed de slaves, an’ I wanted to see de ole place.”