“You see, Daisy, you think it’s all for fair white soap-suds, but you see it isn’t so, but the bottom of the bay is all white salt, and when the keel of the boat rubs it, you see it makes that white salt water, just like when you rub your wet hands on soap. One time, when I was quite small, I thought just as you do, but I found out afterward the truth of it myself.”
Charlie seemed a little disappointed, when Mr. Havens called the group to him and explained—
“Children, you recollect when you blow through your bubble-pipe into your soap and water, how many bubbles are formed by the air rushing through the water; just so the paddle-wheel of the boat acts as your pipe; it agitates or puts in violent motion the water, dashing air down into the water and dashing water up into the air, thus forming multitudes of bubbles which, when driven together, look, as Charley says, like ‘for-fair soap-suds.’ If you could see the paddle-wheel, you would find it covered with those bubbles.”
“But, Papa,” said Artie, “why do we have to put soap in the water to make our bubbles?”
“Anything which thickens or makes the water firmer, makes the bubbles last longer, Artie; and the oil in your soap does that. You have often seen men along the streets with those bright-colored balloons you are so fond of; those are gum-elastic bubbles, and the sides of which are quite firm.
“I have given you quite a lecture, now you can go back to your ‘soapy waves.’”
“I will be boat-manager,” said Charlie, proudly, “and tell you all the places as we go along. You see that wire bridge? well, in a minute our whistle will scream to it to swing round the half of it, and you see when we get to it, we will go through just as easy!
“That large, white house is where they make good boys out of bad ones, and the name of it is the ‘Reform School.’ That high frame on the shore is a ‘Grain Elevator.’ It takes the grain right out of the boats and swings it up into stores; that great brick building, with the smooth lawn, is the ‘Hospital.’ I have been there with Aunt Emma to take some toys to a poor little boy who had to have his leg cut off.”
The suspension bridge was passed through, just “as easy” as Charlie had predicted,—the dingy docks and gloomy coal vessels were left behind; and stiffer, bolder sea-breezes loudly-flapped awnings, made sport of women’s and girls’ dresses, and, at last, fairly drove the merry party into the shelter of the upper saloon, from whence they could safely admire the pretty villages and country-seats which dotted both sides of Narragansett Bay.
Charlie pointed out “Squantum Club-House,” famous for its weekly summer clam-bakes, where the wise men, the rich men, the learned men, and the witty men of Providence meet to eat so many clams, and make so many jokes, that the clams which were so happy as to survive those bakes, had swallowed so many of their crumbs of worldly wisdom and knowledge that, it is said, last summer they formed themselves into a manufacturer’s club, and a literary club, too. One learned Doctor gained such an intimate acquaintance with them that they let him into some of their secrets, and lent him some verses they had composed, which were read at the next learned clam-bake,—and all were clamorous for copies.