“You can rest easy, then,” said the clerk. “You can’t wet flour in a barrel. See there!” and he pointed to a ship that was taking on flour near by. “That’s flour for Rio Janeiro, and you observe that the crane souses every barrel of it into the river before hoisting it to the ship’s deck.” “So it does,” said one of the boys. “But what is that for?” “To make the flour keep in a hot climate,” answered the clerk. “Wetting the barrel closes up all the cracks between the staves, by making a thick paste out of the flour that has sifted into them. That makes the barrel water-tight, insect-tight, and even air-tight.” “But I should think the water would soak into the flour inside,” said Will. “Can’t do it. Wouldn’t wet an ounce of flour if you left a barrel in the river for a month. Flour is packed too tight for that.” “I say, Phil,” said Irv. “Let’s go back and get those three barrels we left in the river when we were putting the tarpaulin on.” “Have you a memorandum of your freight, captain?” asked the clerk. “If so, please let me have it, and I’ll make out a manifest.” Phil handed him the little book in which he had catalogued the freight as it was received. Phil had not the slightest idea what a “manifest” might be, but he asked no questions. “I prefer to find out some things through my eyes,” he said to himself. So he watched the clerk, who spread out some broad sheets of paper on the little cabin table and proceeded to make out a formal manifest, or detailed statement of the freight on board what the manifest called “the good ship _The Last of the Flatboats_.” It was all arranged in columns, and it showed from whom each shipment came, and that each was consigned to the house of Mr. Kennedy. Having finished this, the clerk proceeded to make out a duplicate, which he explained was to be sent to the Exchange, so that an accurate record might be made there for statistical purposes. “I see,” said Phil. “That is the way statistics are got together, showing how much of every kind of product is shipped into and out of each commercial city.” “Certainly,” answered the clerk, “but, excuse me, here come the reporters. Here, boys, make your own manifests,” and with that he handed one of his copies to the newspaper men. They scribbled rapidly on paper pads for a brief while and then returned the manifest. Phil wondered, but asked no questions. “What these men wrote is for publication in newspapers, so I’ll look in the newspapers to-morrow and see what it is.” When he did so, he found under the headline “Manifest,” merely a condensed list of the boat’s freight with the name of the Kennedy commission house as “consignees.” This condensed statement of freights and consignees is published daily with reference to every boat that arrives, for the information not only of the consignees, but also of other merchants and speculators who want to buy, and to that end want to know who has things to sell.