A crowd o’ people had collected together to see me land, and as the thing ov a man’s drivin’ fish to market seemed to tickle ’em, I soon sold out my whole team, at a dollar and a half a head. I at first thought of holding on to about half a dozen ov ’em to travel home with; but as I expected they were pretty well tired out, and the wind happened to be fair, I bought me a sail, laid in a supply ov eatables, and a jug of the best old rye that ever tickled a man’s throat” (a slight working of old “Blair’s” mouth was here perceptible), “and at day-break the next morning was snoozing it away nicely under my own shingles at home.” “Didn’t you see no steam-boats, nor nothin’, on your way up, Mr. Harris?” inquired old “Blair.” “Oh yes,” said Billy. “’Bout twenty miles this side o’ Alexandri’ I met the old Columbria, coming down under a full head o’ steam. She was crowded with people, and as I passed close along by the wheel-house, and bowed my head to ’em, they all clapped their hands and hollored mightily. I beam afterwards that the Captain, or somebody else, had it all put in the papers, but I can’t say from my own knowledge whether it was so or not. I also overtook two or three brigs, but didn’t stop to talk—just give ’em a nod, and passed on.” “My patience!” exclaimed old “Blair;” “well you _was_ a travellin’.” “Just t’other side o’ Nangem’y Reach, too,” continued Billy, “I fell in with a sa’cy little pungy, that brushed up alongside, and seemed inclined to keep company. As the wind happened to freshen up just then, I couldn’t get away from her no how; and the son of a blood of a captin kept bearing me in towards the land until he got me almost right upon a long bar before I know’d it. As the water was several feet deep at the eend of the bar, the pungy could pass right by it without touching; so I had either to cross the bar or go round the pungy. It was a desperate undertaking to try the bar, for ’bout a yard or so wide it was perfectly bare; but I couldn’t think of being beat, so I just stood up in the boat, gathered the line well together in my hands, and with a whoop to the drums, rushed ’em at it.” “And did you _raily_ cross it, Mr. Harris?” said “Blair,” a little staggered. “Without turning a shell,” replied Billy. “And what became o’ the pungy?” “Why in a little while the wind died away, and she dropped behind, and I saw nothing more of her. I reckon it mad the captin open his eyes, though, to see the way I crossed the bar. But the greatest expl’it ov all was—” “What, you unconscionable liar—what?” exclaimed I, determined to put a stop to any further drafts upon old “Blair’s” credulity. “Why, the one you was tellin’ me t’other day ’bout old Neption’s hitching his sea-horses to some big island or ’nother, and pulling it up by the roots, and towing it off with the people and all on it, and anchorin’ it down in some other place that he liked better,” was the unexpected rejoinder.