quoted Raymond. The solemn bird, in his dark uniform, seemed quite undisturbed by our presence; yellow-throats and swamp-sparrows also came in numbers to have a look at us; and the fish swam up to the surface and eyed us curiously. Lying at ease in the boat, we in our turn looked down into the water. There is a singular fascination in looking down into a clear stream as the boat floats above; the mosses and twining water-plants seem to have arbors and grottoes in their recesses, where delicate marine creatures might live, naiads and mermaids of miniature size; at least we are always looking for them. There is a fancy, too, that one may find something,--a ring dropped from fair fingers idly trailing in the water; a book which the fishes have read thoroughly; a scarf caught among the lilies; a spoon with unknown initials; a drenched ribbon, or an embroidered handkerchief. None of these things did we find, but we did discover an old brass breastpin, whose probable glass stone was gone. It was a paltry trinket at best, but I fished it out with superstitious care,--a treasure-trove of the Flats. '"Drowned,"' I said, pathetically, '"drowned in her white robes--"' 'And brass breastpin,' added Raymond, who objected to sentiment, true or false. 'You Philistine! Is nothing sacred to you?' 'Not brass jewelry, certainly.' 'Take some lilies and consider them,' I said, plucking several of the queenly blossoms floating along-side. "Cleopatra art thou, regal blossom, Floating in thy galley down the Nile,-- All my soul does homage to thy splendor, All my heart grows warmer in thy smile; Yet thou smilest for thine own grand pleasure, Caring not for all the world beside, As in insolence of perfect beauty, Sailest thou in silence down the tide. "Loving, humble river all pursue thee, Wafted are their kisses at thy feet; Fiery sun himself cannot subdue thee, Calm thou smilest through his raging heat; Naught to thee the earth's great crowd of blossoms, Naught to thee the rose-queen on her throne; Haughty empress of the summer waters, Livest thou, and diest, all alone." This from Raymond. 'Where did you find that?' I asked. 'It is my own.' 'Of course! I might have known it. There is a certain rawness of style and versification which--' 'That's right,' interrupted Raymond; 'I know just what you are going to say. The whole matter of opinion is a game of 'follow-my-leader'; not one of you dares admire anything unless the critics say so. If I had told you the verses were by somebody instead of a nobody, you would have found wonderful beauties in them.' 'Exactly. My motto is, 'Never read anything unless it is by a somebody.' For, don't you see, that a nobody, if he is worth anything, will grow into a somebody, and, if he isn't worth anything you will have saved your time!' 'But it is not merely a question of growing,' said Raymond; 'it is a question of critics.'