After Marco had sailed on for a few minutes, he cast his eyes up the river, and saw the steamboat. She was still lying in an inclined position, as she had been left grounded by the tide. He shouted and waved his hat, in the endeavor to attract the attention of the people on board, and lead them to send a boat to rescue him. But all his efforts were vain. He could not make them hear.
The current soon bore him beyond a point of land which hid the steamboat from his view, and he began to fear that he should be actually carried out to sea. He was calculating, in fact, how many miles it was to the mouth of the river, when it suddenly occurred to him that, though he could notpushwith his pole, he might perhapspaddlewith it. He accordingly took up the pole, which he had laid down upon the raft, and began to use it as a paddle.
Marco found, to his great relief, that he could produce considerable effect upon his raft by using his pole as a paddle. He contrived to get the head of his raft round towards the shore, and, by workinghard, he succeeded in urging it along through the current, very slowly, indeed, but still perceptibly, so that he began to have some hope that he might succeed in reaching land.
Before he had made much progress, however, he suddenly saw before him, at a short distance, a little rocky island, with some grass and a few trees on the lower end of it. The island was very small, being not much longer than Marco's raft. It lay almost directly in his course—so nearly, that he perceived that by working a little more with his pole, he thought he could bring himself into such a position as to be thrown by the current directly upon it.
This he did. He paddled, with all his strength, to get into a line with the upper end of the island, the current, all the time, bearing him down directly towards it. In a few minutes, he had the satisfaction of seeing that he was going directly upon it.
"All right," said he to himself; "now I'm safe."
As he said these words, the end of the raft struck the rock, and he leaped off upon it. The raft swung round, and was going away, but Marco seized it, and dragged it up a little way upon the shore, so as to secure it. He then sat down upon the rock, and began to consider what was next to be done.
He was certainly at a loss to know what was to be done. He waited an hour, and then, gettingvery tired of his situation, he began to consider whether it would not be best for him to entrust himself once more to his raft, and endeavor to get to the shore by means of his paddle.
While he was sitting on a point of the rock, in this perplexity, looking towards the shore that was nearest to him, he suddenly saw a boy coming upon a horse, along a winding road, which led to the river. He was driving the horse down to water. The horse advanced to the brink of the river, when Marco began to call out in his loudest voice,
"Halloo!"
"Halloo!" answered the boy.
"Can't you get a boat, and come and take me off this island?" cried Marco.
The boy paused a moment, and gazed earnestly at Marco, while the horse continued drinking.
"How came you on that island?" said the boy, calling out again in a loud voice.
"I got adrift on some logs," said Marco, "and floated down the river. Can't you get a boat, and come and take me off?"
"I have not got any boat," said the boy. "There an't any boats about here."
"I wish you would go and get one," said Marco. "I'll pay you well for it."
The boy did not answer. He seemed to be hesitating. In the mean time, the horse, having nearly finished his drinking, lifted up his head and looked at Marco.
"There is not any boat within a mile," said the boy. "But I should think you might wade ashore. The water is not deep between here and the island."
"Then wade out here with your horse," said Marco, "and take me on behind you."
The boy hesitated a moment, but he finally decided to comply with Marco's proposal, and accordingly began to advance his horse into the water. Marco watched his progress with intense interest. As the water grew deeper, he began to fear that the boy would get discouraged, and turn back. But the boy kept on. He turned his steps somewhat below the island, where there was an extensive shoal; the water grew shallower and shallower, until at last the horse emerged entirely, and stood upon a little dry sand bank at the lower side of the island.
"I'm very much obliged to you, indeed," said Marco, "for coming for me—besides the pay. I will pay you for it as soon as we get on shore."
"Oh, no," said the boy, "I don't need any pay just for wading my horse out here. I wade him out here very often, when I come down to water; that is, in the summer, when the water is low."
Marco mounted behind the boy, and the boy turned his horse's head towards the shore.
"How far is it back to the mill?" asked Marco.
"To the steam mill?—four miles," answered the boy.
"Four miles!" exclaimed Marco; "is it possiblethat I have floated down four miles? How shall I ever get back again?"
"How did you happen to get adrift?" asked the boy.
Marco proceeded to give the boy an account of his getting adrift, but in a short time the water began to grow so deep that he was afraid. The boy, however, told him that there was no danger. The bottom of the river, at this place, was a great bed of pebble stones, and the current ran very swiftly over them, and curled in sharp ripples about the horse's legs. Presently, however, the water became more shallow, and they soon safely reached the shore.
"Now," said Marco, "I want to get back to the mill just as quick as I can—before the steamboat goes."
"The steamboat?" said the boy, "she has gone long ago. She went by early this morning."
"Yes," said Marco, "she went by here, but she got stopped."
So Marco told the boy the story of their having got aground, and of his going ashore; and of all his adventures, in fact, down to the time of his being cast upon the desert island. The boy told him that he had better make haste; "for," said he, "the tide has risen a great deal already. When the tide is at the lowest, we can go out to that island almost on bare ground."
"But I can't walk back four miles," said Marco. "Could you not carry me in a wagon?" he continued.
"We have got a wagon," said the boy, "if my father will let me go."
"Let us go right up and ask him," said Marco
They accordingly began to advance up the road, the boy putting his horse to a rapid trot. Marco, who was not accustomed to riding in this style—behind another boy, and without a saddle—was much jolted, and, in fact, he found it very difficult to keep his seat. He began to feel so much anxiety, however, about getting back again, that he did not complain. In a short time, the boy reached the house. It was a small, plain farm-house. There was a shed at one side of it, with a wagon standing in the shed—the shafts resting upon a wood-pile.
"My father is not at home, now," said the boy, "but he will be at home very soon."
"Oh, don't let us wait for him," rejoined Marco. "He'll be willing to have you go, I know."
"No," said the boy, "I should not dare to go without his leave."
"Let us harness the horse into the wagon, then, at any rate," said Marco, "and then we shall be all ready."
"We can do that," said the boy.
So they harnessed the horse into the wagon, and the boy led the horse around to the door. Marco, who was quite impatient to go, got into the wagon, and sat waiting. The man came in about twenty minutes, and when he heard a statement of the case, he said that his boy might go and take Marco back to the mill.
It was now so late that Marco began to be seriously afraid that the steamboat might have gone. He was very impatient to have the horse go as fast as possible; and he watched at every turn in the road which gave him a view of the river, hoping to get a glimpse at the boat. He wondered whether Forester was still at the tavern, or whether he had come out in pursuit of him. After wearying himself with conjectures, which were all in vain, he suddenly came to a view of the river opposite the mill. The steamboat, to his great joy, was in its place; but there was a black column of smoke issuing from the smoke-pipe.
"They are firing up," said Marco, "I verily believe."
"What do you mean by that?" said the boy.
"Why, building up the fires," said Marco, "to set the engine a-going. They call it firing up."
Just at this moment there broke forth a loud and hoarse hissing from the steam-pipe, and a dense column of white vapor began to ascend, which mingled its snowy volumes, in a beautiful manner, with the dark masses of the smoke.
"They are blowing off the steam," said Marco.
"What does that mean?" asked the boy.
"Why, that they have got the steam up, and are letting off a little of it, while they are waiting for something. Perhaps they are waiting for us. Drive on as fast as you can."
A moment after this, the sound of the steamsuddenly ceased, and the great paddle wheels, on the sides of the boat, began slowly to revolve.
"They are trying to get her off," said Marco. "Ido hopethey can't start her. Drive on; drive on as fast as you can."
They were, at this time, upon the top of a hill which commanded a fine view of the river, and of the scenery upon its banks. The mill was before them, too, in full view. But Marco was too much engaged in watching the movements of the boat to regard the scenery. The boy drove rapidly down the hill. They reached the mill in a very few minutes, and drove down to the bank of the river, by a road which led to the water, a short distance above the mill. But, in the mean time, unfortunately for Marco, the steamboat had regained its liberty, and when Marco and the boy came in view of it again, as their horse stopped at the edge of the water, they saw, to Marco's dismay, that she was ploughing her way swiftly up the river, being just about to disappear behind a point of land which terminated the view of the water in that direction.
"They are gone," said Marco, in a tone of despair, "they are gone; and what shall I do?"
"Can't you go in the stage?" asked the boy, hoping thus to say a word of encouragement and consolation.
"No," said Marco, "I don't believe there is any stage from this old mill. Besides, I don't knowwhere to go. I should not have thought that Forester would have gone off and left me."
"Was he on board the steamboat?" asked the boy.
"Yes," said Marco—"that is, he was to go on board—but I left him at the tavern."
"Perhaps he is there now," said the boy. "Let us go and see."
Marco approved of this plan, and they turned the wagon, and rode towards the tavern. As soon as the horse stopped in the yard, Marco leaped out of the wagon, and ran in. He found Forester reclining upon the sofa, where Marco had left him, asleep.
Marco advanced towards him, and took him by the shoulder, roughly, to wake him up, saying,
"Forester! cousin Forester! wake up! the boat has gone."
Forester opened his eyes—looked wildly at Marco, and then put his hands to his head, pressing his temples with the palms, but he did not speak.
"The boat has gone, cousin Forester," continued Marco.
"Then what good does it do to wake me up so roughly?" asked Forester.
"Why—I—thought you'd want to know it," said Marco; "but why did not you come down?"
"Because," said Forester, "you were to come and tell me, I thought, when they were ready to go."
Marco had no reply to make to this suggestion, and he was silent. He found, afterwards, on farther conversation with Forester, that he was quite unwell. His head ached, and his face was flushed, as if he was feverish. Marco related to Forester an account of his adventures on the raft of logs. Forester thought that he had had a very narrow escape.
Marco expected that Forester would have rebuked him very sharply for his fault in going upon the logs at all. But he did not. After Marco had got through with his account, Forester only said,
"Well, Marco, you evidently did wrong in getting upon the logs at all; but the evil consequences to you will be punishment enough, and, in fact, more than enough."
"Evil consequences?" said Marco—"no; there are no evil consequences, only that we have got left behind."
"I don't regard that," said Forester, "for I am too unwell to travel to-day; but then you have suffered considerable pain and anxiety already, and, besides, there will be some money to pay."
"What for?" said Marco.
"Why, you have got to pay the boy for bringing you home," replied Forester.
"Must I pay him," said Marco, "out of my own money?"
"Who do you think ought to pay him?" said Forester.
"Why,Iought to, I suppose," said Marco."But it won't be much. I think a quarter of a dollar will be enough."
"Then, did not you say that you sent to the mill to have somebody go down after you in a boat?" asked Forester.
"Yes," said Marco, "but I don't think they went."
"You had better go to the mill and see," said Forester.
So Marco went out and paid the boy a quarter of a dollar, with which he seemed to be satisfied. Then he went to the mill, and he found two men just returning, in a boat, from a long pull down the river in pursuit of him. Marco paid them half a dollar. Thus his loss was three quarters of a dollar.
When he returned to the tavern, he found that Forester had taken some medicine, and had gone to bed. Forester told him that he must amuse himself the best way he could, and that, after the experience that he had had that day, he hoped he would be careful not to put himself any more into dangerous situations.
Marco took dinner that day at the tavern alone, and, after dinner, he carried a cup of tea to Forester,—but Forester was asleep, and so he did not disturb him.
In the afternoon he went out to play. He amused himself, for half an hour, in rambling about the tavern yards and in the stables. There was a ferocious-looking bull in one of the yards, chained to a post, by means of a ring through his nose. Marco looked at the bull a few minutes with great interest, and then began to look about for a long stick, or a pole, to poke him a little, through the fence, to see if he could not make him roar, when, instead of a pole, his eye fell upon a boy, who was at work, digging in a corner of a field near, behind the barn.
The boy's name was Jeremiah. He was digging for worms for bait. He was going a fishing. Marco determined to go with him.
Jeremiah furnished Marco with a hook and a piece of sheet lead to make a sinker of, and Marco had some twine in his pocket already; so that hewas soon fitted with a line. But he had no pole. Jeremiah said that he could cut one, on his way down to the river, as they would pass through a piece of woods which had plenty of tall and slender young trees in it.
He succeeded in getting a pole in this manner, which answered very well; and then he and Jeremiah went down to the river. They stood upon a log on the shore, and caught several small fishes, but they got none of much value, for nearly half an hour. At last, Jeremiah, who was standing at a little distance from Marco, suddenly exclaimed:
"Oh, here comes a monstrous great perch. He is coming directly towards my hook."
"Where? where?" exclaimed Marco. And Marco immediately drew out his hook from the place where he had been fishing, and walked along to the log on which Jeremiah was standing.
"Where is he?" said Marco, looking eagerly into the water.
"Hush!" said Jeremiah; "don't say a word. There he is, swimming along towards my hook."
"Yes," said Marco, "I see him. Now he's turning away a little. Let me put my line in, too."
Marco extended his pole and dropped his hook gently into the water. He let it down until it was near the perch. The poor fish, after loitering about a minute, gradually approached Marco's hook and bit at it.
Jeremiah, seeing that he was in danger of losing his fish, now called out to Marco to take his line out. "It is not fair," said he, "for you to come and take my fish, just as he was going to bite at my hook. Go away."
But it was too late. As Jeremiah was saying these words, the fish bit, and Marco, drawing up the line, found the fish upon the end of it. As the line came in, however, Jeremiah reached out his hand to seize the fish, and Marco, to prevent him, dropped the pole and endeavored to seize it too.
"Let go my fish," said Jeremiah.
"Let alone my line," said Marco.
Neither would let go. A struggle ensued, and Marco and Jeremiah, in the midst of it, fell off into the water. The water was not very deep, and they soon clambered up upon the log again, but the fish, which had been pulled off the line in the contention, fell into the water, and swam swiftly away into the deep and dark parts of the water, and was seen no more. He was saved by the quarrels of his enemies.
Marco, who was not so much accustomed to a wetting as Jeremiah was, became very angry, and immediately set off to go home to the tavern. Jeremiah coolly resumed his position on the log, and went to fishing again, paying no heed to Marco's expressions of resentment.
Marco walked along, very uncomfortable both in body and mind. His clothes were wet and muddy, and the water in his shoes made a chucklingsound at every step, until he stopped and took his shoes off, and poured the water out. It was nearly sunset when he reached the tavern. He found Forester better. He had left his bed, and had come down into the parlor. He was reclining on the sofa, reading a book, when Marco came in.
Marco advanced towards him, and began to make bitter complaints against Jeremiah. In giving an account of the affair, he omitted all that part of the transaction which made against himself. He said nothing, for instance, about his coming to put his line in where Jeremiah was fishing, and while a fish was actually near Jeremiah's hook, but only said that he caught a fish, and that Jeremiah came and took it away.
"But what claim had Jeremiah to the fish?" asked Forester.
"He had no claim at all," said Marco.
"You mean, he had norightat all," said Forester.
"Yes," said Marco.
"He had aclaim, certainly," rejoined Forester; "that is, he claimed the fish. Hepretendedthat it was his. Now, on what was this claim or pretence founded?"
"I don't know," said Marco, "I am sure. I only know he had no right to it, for I caught the fish myself, and he was going to take it away."
Forester paused a moment, and then resumed:
"I don't think that you have given me a full and fair account of the transaction; for I cannot believethat Jeremiah would have come and taken away the fish without any pretext whatever. You must have omitted some important part of the account, I think."
Marco then told Forester that Jeremiah said that the fish was just going to bite at his hook; and, after several other questions from Forester, he gradually acknowledged the whole truth. Still, he maintained that it was his fish. He had a right to put in his line, he said, wherever he pleased, whether another boy was fishing or not; the fish belonged to the one who caught him; and, before he was caught, he did not belong to anybody. It was absurd, he maintained, to suppose that the fish became Jeremiah's, just because he was swimming near his hook.
"Sometimes one can judge better of a case," said Forester, "by reversing the condition of the parties. Suppose that you had been fishing, and a large fish had come swimming about your hook, and that Jeremiah had then come to put his hook in at the same place, should you have thought it right?"
"Why, I don't know," said Marco.
"It is doubtful. Now, it is an excellent rule," continued Forester, "in all questions of right between ourselves and other persons, for us to give themthe benefit of the doubt."
"What does that mean?" asked Marco.
"Why, if a man is tried in a court for any crime," replied Forester, "if it is clearly provedthat he is innocent, of course he goes free. If it is clearly proved that he is guilty, he is convicted. But if neither the one nor the other can be proved, that is, if it is doubtful whether he is innocent or guilty, they give him the benefit of the doubt, as they term it, and let him go free."
"I should think that, when it is doubtful," said Marco, "they ought to send him back to prison again till they can find out certainly."
"No," said Forester, "the jury are directed to acquit him, unless it is positively proved that he is guilty. So that, if they think it is doubtful, they give him the benefit of the doubt, and let him go free. Now, in all questions of property between ourselves and others, we should all be willing to give to others the benefit of the doubt, and then the disputes would be very easily settled, or rather, disputes would never arise. In this case, for instance, it is doubtful whether you had a right to come and interfere while the fish was near his hook; it is doubtful whether he did or did not have a sort of right to try to catch the fish, without your interfering; and you ought to have been willing to have given him the benefit of the doubt, and so have staid away, or have given up the fish to him after you had caught it."
"But I don't see," said Marco, "why he should not have been willing to have given me the benefit of the doubt, as well as I to have given it to him."
"Certainly," said Forester; "Jeremiah oughtto have considered that there was a doubt whether he was entitled to the fish or not, and to have been willing to have given you the benefit of the doubt; and so have let you kept the fish. Each, in such a case, ought to be willing to give up to the other."
"And then which of us should have it?" asked Marco.
"Why, it generally happens," said Forester, in reply, "that only one of the parties adopts this principle, and so he yields to the other; but if both adopt it, then there is sometimes a little discussion, each insisting on giving up to the other. But such a dispute is a friendly dispute, not a hostile one, and it is very easily settled."
"A friendly dispute!" exclaimed Marco; "I never heard of such a thing."
"Yes," said Forester. "Suppose, for instance, that, when you had caught your fish, you had said, 'There, Jeremiah, that fish is yours; he was coming up to your hook, and would have bitten at it if I had not put my line in;' and, then, if Jeremiah had said, 'No, it is not mine; it is yours, for you caught it with your hook;' this would have been a friendly dispute. It would have been very easily settled."
"I am sorry that I left my pole down at the river," said Marco. "I cut a most excellent pole in the woods, on my way down, and I left it there across the log. I mean to go down and get it early in the morning."
"No," said Forester; "we must be on our way up the river early to-morrow morning."
"How shall we go?" asked Marco.
"I have engaged a wagon here to take us to Bath, and there we shall find a stage."
Accordingly, early the next morning, Forester and Marco got into a wagon to go up the river to Bath, which is the first town of any considerable consequence which you meet in ascending the Kennebec river. Marco and Forester sat on the seat of the wagon, and a boy, who was going with them for the purpose of bringing the wagon back, sat behind, on a box, which had been put in to make a seat for him.
Marco said that he was very sorry that he had not time to go and get his fishing-pole.
"It would not do any good," said Forester, "for you could not carry it."
"Why, yes," said Marco, "we might put it on the bottom of the wagon, and let the end run out behind. It is pretty long."
"True," said Forester, "we might possibly get it to Bath, but what should we do with it then?"
"Why, then," said Marco, "we might put it on the top of the stage, I suppose. Would not they let us?"
"It would not be very convenient to carry a long fishing-pole, in that way, to Quebec," replied Forester, "through woods, too, half of the way, full of such poles. You might stop and get a caneor staff, if we find a place where there are some good ones. A cane would be of some service to you in walking up the hills, and that could be taken along with our baggage easily."
Marco said that he should like this plan very much; and, as they rode along, they looked out carefully for a place where there were slender saplings growing, suitable for canes.
"What kind of wood would you have?" asked Forester.
"I don't know," replied Marco; "which kind is the best?"
"The different woods have different qualities," replied Forester. "Some are light and soft, which are good qualities for certain purposes. Some are hard. Some are stiff, and some flexible. Some are brittle, and others tough. For a cane, now, do we want a hard wood or a soft one?"
"Hard," said Marco.
"Why?" asked Forester.
"Oh, so that it shall not get indented or bruised easily," replied Marco.
"A light wood or a heavy one?" asked Forester.
"Light," replied Marco, "so that it will be easy to carry."
"Stiff or flexible?" asked Forester.
"Stiff," replied Marco.
"Yes," said Forester. "Some kinds of wood grow straight, and others crooked."
"We want it straight," said Marco.
"Yes," replied Forester. "The pine grows very straight. If we could find some young pines, they would make us some beautiful-looking canes."
"And how is it with the other qualities?" asked Marco.
"Pine is very light," said Forester.
"That is good," said Marco.
"Andsoft," said Forester.
"That is not so well," said Marco.
"And it is very weak and brittle."
"Then it will not do at all," said Marco. "I want a good strong cane."
Just at this time, they were ascending a hill, and, after passing over the summit of it, they came to a place where Forester said he saw, in the woods, a number of young oaks and beeches, which, he said, would make good canes. The oak, he said, was very strong, and hard, and tough; so was the beech.
"Only there are two objections to them for canes," said Forester, as they were getting out of the wagon; "they are not so light as the pine, and then, besides, they are apt to grow crooked. We must look about carefully to find some that are straight."
"Which is the most valuable of all the kinds of wood?" asked Marco.
"The question is ambiguous," said Forester.
"What do you mean by that?" asked Marco.
"I mean, that it has two significations," replied Forester; "that is, the word valuable has two significations. Pine is the most valuable in one sense; that is, pine is, on the whole, most useful to mankind. But there are other kinds of wood which are far more costly."
"I should not think that pine would be so valuable," said Marco, "it is so weak and brittle."
"It is valuable," said Forester, "because, for the purpose for which men want the greatest quantities of wood, strength is not required. For boarding the outsides of buildings, for example, and finishing them within, which uses, perhaps, consume more wood than all others put together, no great strength is required."
"I think people want more wood toburnthan to build houses with," said Marco.
"Yes," said Forester, "perhaps they do. They do in this country, I think, but perhaps not in Europe and other old countries. But pine, although it has no great strength, is an excellent wood for building, it is so soft and easily worked."
Forester's remarks, upon the different kinds of wood, were here interrupted by Marco's finding what he considered an excellent stick for a cane. When he had cut it, however, he found that it was not so straight as it had appeared to be while growing.
However, after some time spent in the selection, Marco and Forester both procured excellent canes.
"This is good, hard wood," said Marco, as he was trimming his cane, and cutting it to a proper length.
"Yes," said Forester; "it is beech, and beech is very hard."
After finishing their canes, they took their seats in the wagon again.
After riding along a short distance in silence, Marco introduced the subject of the different woods once more. He asked Forester which was the mostcostlyof all the woods.
"Costly is not an ambiguous term," said Forester; "that means, which has the greatestmoneyvalue."
"Yes," said Marco. "I suppose it is mahogany."
"O no," said Forester.
"Rose wood, then," said Marco. "It must be rose wood. My mother has a beautiful piano made of rose wood."
"No," said Forester. "Ebony is more costly than either rose wood or mahogany. They sell ebony by the pound."
"Where does ebony come from?" asked Marco.
"I don't know," replied Forester.
"I should like to know," said Marco. "How much do they sell it for, by the pound?"
"I don't know that, either," said Forester. "I know very little about it, only that it is a very costly wood, on account of some peculiar properties which it has, and its scarcity."
"What are the peculiar properties?" asked Marco.
"One is, its great hardness," said Forester. "It is very hard indeed. Another is, its color."
"What color is it?" asked Marco.
"Black," replied Forester,—"black as jet; at least, one kind is black as jet. There is a kind which is brown. It is called brown ebony."
"I don't think black is very pretty," said Marco.
"No," said Forester; "there does not seem to be much beauty in black, in itself considered; but then, for certain purposes, it is much handsomer than any other color would be; for a cane, for instance."
Marco looked at the beech cane which he had before him, and began to consider how it would look if it were black.
"I suppose I could paint my cane black," said he, after a moment's pause, "if you think it would be any better."
"No," said Forester; "I should prefer having it of its natural color. The bark of the beech has beautiful colors, if they are only brought out by a coat of varnish."
"Brought out?" repeated Marco.
"Yes," said Forester. "There is a kind of fine dust, or something like that, which dims the bark; but, when you put on oil or varnish, there is a sort of transparency given to the outside coating, which brings the natural color of the bark fully to view."
"Then I will get my cane varnished, when I get to Bath," said Marco.
"Ebony," said Forester, "is used a great deal where a contrast with ivory is wanted. Ebony is hard and fine-grained, like ivory, and it takes a high polish. So, whenever they want a contrast of black and white, they take ebony and ivory."
"When do they want a contrast between black and white?"
"One case," replied Forester, "is that of the keys of a piano forte. They want the short keys, which mark the semi-tones, of a different color from the others, so that the eye will catch them as quick as possible. So in a chess-board. They sometimes make chess-boards with alternate squares of ebony and ivory."
"I think it would be just as well to take common wood and paint it black," said Marco, "rather than pay so much money for ebony."
"No," said Forester, "that would not do so well. The paint would wear off; or, if it did not wear off by handling, still, if it got a little knock or hard rub, a part would come off, and that would show a little spot which would be of the natural color of the wood. This would look very badly."
"Then, besides, painted wood," continued Forester, "cannot be finished off so smoothly, and polished up so highly, as a wood which is black by nature. They have a way ofstainingwood, however, which is better than painting it."
"How is that done?" asked Marco.
"Why, they make a black stain," said Forester, "which they put upon the wood. This staining soaks in a little way, and blackens the fibres of the wood itself, beneath the surface. This, of course, will not wear off as easily as paint."
"I should not think it would wear off at all," said Marco.
"Yes," replied Forester, "for, if a cane is made of any wood stained black, after a time the wood itself wears away farther than the staining had penetrated. Then the fresh wood will come to view. So that, if you want anything black, it is much better to make it of a wood which is black all the way through.
"Besides," continued Forester, "ebony is a very hard wood, and it will bear knocks and rough usages much better than other kinds of wood which are softer. Once I made a carpenter an ebony wedge, to split his laths with."
"What are laths?" asked Marco.
"Laths are the thin split boards which are nailed upon the sides of a room before the plastering is put on. Sometimes laths are made very narrow, and are nailed on at a little distance from each other, so as to leave a crack between them. Then the plastering, being soft when it is put on, works into the cracks, and thus clings to the wood when it is dry and hard. If plastering was put on to smooth boards, or a smooth wall, it would all fall off again very easily."
"Yes," said Marco; "I have seen the plasteringcoming up through the cracks in the garret at your house in Vermont."
"The lath boards," continued Forester, "are sometimes made narrow, and nailed on at a little distance from each other, and sometimes they are wide boards, split up, but not taken apart, and then the cracks, which are made in splitting them, are forced open when the boards are nailed on. The way they do it, is this. They put the wide lath board down upon a plank, and make a great many cracks in it with an axe. Then they put it upon the wall, or ceiling, and nail one edge. Then they take a wedge and drive into one of the cracks, and force it open far enough to let the plastering in. Then they put in some more nails, in such a manner as to keep that crack open. Then they wedge open another crack, and nail again; and so on, until they have nailed on the whole board, so as to leave the cracks all open."
"And you made the carpenter an ebony wedge?" said Marco.
"Yes," said Forester. "He had had wedges made of the hardest wood that he could get, but they would soon become bruised, and battered, and worn out, with their hard rubbing against the sides of the cracks. At last, I told him I had a very hard kind of wood, and I gave him a piece of ebony. He made it into a wedge, and, after that, he had no more difficulty. He said his ebony wedge was just like iron."
"Was it really as hard as iron?" asked Marco.
"Oh, no," said Forester,—"but it was much harder than any wood which he could get. He thought it was a very curious wood. He had never seen any like it before."
"I should like some ebony," said Marco.
"Ebony would be an excellent wood to make a top of," said Forester, "it is so hard and heavy."
"I should like to have a top hard," said Marco, "but I don't think it would be any better for being heavy."
"Yes," said Forester; "the top would spin longer. The heavier a top is, the longer it will spin."
"Then I should like a top made of lead," said Marco.
"It would spin very long," said Forester, "if it was well made, though it would require more strength to set it a-going well. But lead would be soft, and thus would easily get bruised and indented. Besides, black would be a prettier color for a top than lead color. A jet black top, well polished, would be very handsome."
"Is black a color?" asked Marco. "I read in a book once that black and white were not colors."
"There are two meanings to the word color," said Forester. "In one sense, black is a color, and in another sense, it is not. For instance, if a lady were to go into a shop, and ask for some morocco shoes for a little child, and they were to show her some black ones, she might say she did not wantblack ones; she wanted colored ones. In that sense, black would not be a color.
"On the other hand," continued Forester, "she might ask for silk stockings, and if the shopkeeper were to ask her what color she wanted, she might say black. In that sense, black would be a color."
"Which is the right sense?" asked Marco.
"Both are right," said Forester. "When a word is commonly used in two senses, both are correct. The philosophers generally consider black not to be a color; that is, they generally use the word in the first sense."
"Why?" asked Marco.
"For this reason," replied Forester. He was going on to explain the reason, when suddenly Marco's attention was attracted by the sight of a long raft of logs, which was coming down the river. They had been riding at some distance from the river, and out of sight of it, but now it came suddenly into view, just as this raft was passing by. There were two men on the raft.
"See those men on the raft," said Marco. "They are paddling."
"No," replied Forester; "they are sculling."
"Sculling?" repeated Marco.
"Yes," replied Forester. "They always scull a raft. It is a different motion from paddling."
Marco watched the men attentively, examining the motion which they made in sculling, and consideringwhether he might not have sculled his raft to the shore in the same manner.