or as much thereof as was within the bestowal of a river many miles across. Just then they reached the post-office, their change of course deprived them of mail matter for several days. How it came about, nobody knew; but within an hour the Commodore, his boat stowed for return as freight, was on a train for New York, and his comrades were mourning that they could not accompany him. That evening all the canoes were stowed, and placed on board a south-bound canal-boat, while the Vice, the Purser and the Cook sat in Christian garb upon the deck of the Montreal steamer, smoked cigars instead of pipes, and discussed dados, symphony concerts, the woman question, the railroad riots, and the impending finance muddle as conventionally as if they had never lived out of doors. * * * * * A few days later they met at a canoe club dinner in New York, but neither claw-hammer coat nor white tie could smother the fire within them as they discussed the merits of their respective boats. "The Chrysalids don't ziz-zag when they're paddled, as the keelless Red Lakers do," observed the Vice. "Nor do they keep within hailing distance in a breeze in which even a dead log would run and be joyful," retorted the Commodore. "They need no lee-board to keep them from drifting down the wind," said the Purser. "Nor more than three men to land them on a shore upon which a gentle tug at the painter will beach a Red Laker," said the Cook. "Give me a boat," said the Vice, "which steers in the ordinary ship-shape manner." "I," remarked the Commodore, "prefer one whose Commander don't have to analyze a whole rope yard before he can get her into sailing condition." "The idea of oilcloth decks for any sort of a craft!" exclaimed the Purser. "Or of decks that make you imagine it's resurrection morn, and you're crossing the Styx in your own coffin," said the Cook. "Order, gentlemen," shouted the ruler of the feast; "if you've any personal difficulties to settle, please retire to the ante-room, and cease disturbing the club." "Ze ante-room," remarked the caterer, "is full of ze Alderman an' ze Judge, who fight about ze merits of ze Rob Roy boats an' ze paper canoe." "Then I will settle the question myself," said the President, taking from his pocket a copper cent of the fathers. "Heads signifies the superiority of the Chrysalids, tails of the Red Lakers." The coin spun in the air, and the quartette sprang to its collective feet. It came down exactly edgewise into a bit of Fromage de Brie, and so remained. [Footnote 9: NOTE BY THE COMMODORE.--The Cook's notoriously fertile imagination has misled him slightly in regard to this _menu_. But let it stand. The Commodore, however, wishes to state that salt-pork and hard-tack formed the staple of the repast so far as he was personally concerned.] [Footnote 10: Note by the rest of the Squadron--"As usual--Ha ha!"]