“What is that black object on your leg?” the dominie managed to gasp.

“I’m thankful to you for saying that, my kind friend, for it’s a murdering leech.”

“Salt is the only thing to take them off with,” remarked Wilkinson really interested; “and that is just what we are deficient in.”

“I say, Wilks, try a drop of the crater on him; don’t waste the blessings of Providence, but just let the least particle fall on his nose, while I scrape him off.”

The surgical operation succeeded, and the schoolmaster half forgot his own troubles in doing good to his friend.  While the latter was reclothing his feet, and pressing his specimens, the maple branch ceased working, and its owner finely apostrophized the field of white and yellow blossoms.

There sits the water lily like a sovereign,
Her little empire is a fairy world,
The purple dragon-fly above it hovering,
As when her fragile ivory uncurled,

        A thousand years ago.

“Bravo, Wilks, if you are poaching on my preserves; but I wish that same purple dragon-fly would hover round here in thousands for a minute.  It’s a pleasure to see them sail along and gobble up the mosquitoes.”

The dominie continued:—­

To-day I saw the dragon-fly
Come from the wells where he did lie.

     An inner impulse rent the veil
     Of his old husk; from head to tail
     Came out clear plates of sapphire mail.

     He dried his wings:  like gauze they grew,
     Thro’ crofts and pastures wet with dew
     A living flash of light he flew.

“Hurroo!” cried Coristine, as with knapsack readjusted, he took his companion by the arm and resumed the journey; “Hurroo again, I say, it’s into the very heart of nature we’re getting now.  Bless the mosquito and the leech for opening the well of English undefiled.”

Wilkinson was wound up to go, and repeated with fine conversational effect:—­

     But now, perplexed by what th’ old man had said,
     My question eagerly did I renew
     How is it that you live, and what is it you do?

     He, with a smile, did then his words repeat;
     And said, that, gathering leeches far and wide,
     He travell’d; stirring thus about his feet
     The waters of the ponds where they abide. 
     “Once I could meet with them on every side;
     But they have dwindled long by slow decay;
     Yet still I persevere, and find them where I may.”

“Dad, if the old man had been here, he might have made his fortune by this time.  ’Stirring thus about his feet the waters of the ponds where they abide’ may be fine employment, but the law’s good enough for me, seeing they’re bound to dwindle long by slow decay.  You don’t happen to have a scrap on a botanist, do you?”

“Yes,” replied the schoolmaster, “and on a blind one, too:—­