It was a grand walking expedition the two young gentleman and their fathers were on, and it is wonderful how Captain Fitzroy did swing along with that wooden leg of his. He was always in front, whether it was going up hill or down dell. There really seems some advantage, after all, in having a wooden leg, for once an angry adder struck the gallant captain on the “timber toe,” as he called it; and once a bulldog flew at him, and though it rent some portion of his clothing, it could make no impression to signify on that wooden leg, and finally received a kick on the jaw that made it retire to its kennel in astonishment.
After they had dined Captain Fitzroy explained the travelling scheme to the lads, and recommended them to think seriously about it after they had retired to their bedroom, and give their answer in the morning.
I do not think there is any occasion to say what that answer was when the morning came.
Book Two—Chapter Two.
At Sea in the “Fairy Queen.”
“Oh! who can tell save he whose heart hath tried,
And danced in triumph o’er the waters wide,
The exalting sense—the pulse’s maddening play,
That thrills the wanderer of that trackless way?”
Byron.
“The moon is up; it is a lovely eve;
Long streams of light o’er dancing waves expand.”
Idem.
