We got out on a pebble beach. There were grassy shores, close-cropped by cattle, near us, and a hard-wood grove. The Pearl began to put up his tent, while we gathered a bit of wood for a fire, and spread our supper on a big napkin. When we had eaten, Mr. Pearl removed his coat and vest from a carpet-bag. He spread the coat over his shoulders, but hung the vest on a stick, which he had driven into the ground beside him. He had turned it inside out, so that two medals, pinned to its lining, could be seen in the firelight. “What are they?” Mr. McCarthy asked. “Medals of honor.” The Pearl spoke carelessly as he was filling his pipe. “Medals of honor!” exclaimed Mr. McCarthy. “How did you get 'em?” “Won 'em in the Mexican War.” “Why don't you wear 'em on the outside of your jacket?” Air. McCarthy inquired. “I rise to a point of order,” said the Pearl, as he got to his feet. “If I had a thousand dollars, would I wear it on the outside o' my pocket? Or if I was Mr. McCarthy, would I have to tell people that I was a gentleman?” The Pearl gathered power like a locomotive when he got to going. His words conveyed a message of special value to Mr. McCarthy. “Never want to show your cards more than is necessary before you play 'em,” the Pearl continued. “I could have used those medals to get a job many a time when I wouldn't, any more than you'd let a girl marry you out o' pity. There have been years when I wa'n't as good as the medals--there's the truth of it. Every night when I go to bed I hang that vest on a chair, wrong side out, an' take a look at 'em, an' try to make myself as good as they are.” “Tell me how you won them?” Mr. McCarthy urged. “That isn't in the order o' exercises,” the Pearl went on. “The chair begs to advise the gentleman from Hermon Center that if he, the said gentleman, ever succeeds in doing a big thing, the sooner _he_ forgets it the longer it will be remembered. If a man makes his history it's all that can be expected o' him. Somebody else ought to do the tellin', if it has to be told.” “That's sound,” said Mr. McCarthy, “and I'm going to put it down in my note-book.” “I'm goin' to forget it,” said the Pearl, as he began to prepare for bed. We were up at sunrise in the morning. Late that day we landed, and Pearl took the canoe on his back and we put across country. A walk of six miles brought us to our own river, and we saved thereby a day of water travel. The sun was low when we wet our canoe again. “The committee on refreshments will please report,” said Mr. Pearl, when he had put down his load. Mr. McCarthy reported by laying out three pieces of cheese, half a dozen crackers, and a bit of dried beef. The Pearl called “Mr. Barker,” and when the animal stood up before him, said: “The chair respectfully suggests that without food it will soon have no leg to stand on. You should cultivate the virtue of thoughtfulness. Do not wait to be told, Mr. Barker, but always consider what is to be done, and do it.”