"In two or three weeks, Dr. Wright says", replied Mr. Somers.
"You must not take the road again, young gentleman", remarked Mr. Norton, "until we have had a fall of rain. The country is scorched with heat beyond anything I ever knew. Fine scenery on the St. John River, Mr. Lansdowne".
"Wonderfully fine and varied! Like the unfolding of a splendid panorama! In fact, it nearly consoled me for the sleepless nights and horribly cooked dinners".
"Ah! well—. I've had some experience while passing up and down in these parts. In some localities, the country is pretty well populated", said Mr. Norton with a broad smile.
"I can certify to that geographical fact", said John, laughing. "One night, after retiring, I found that a large and active family of mice had taken previous shares in the straw cot furnished me. A stirring time, they had, I assure you. The following night, I was roused up from a ten horse-power slumber, by a little million of enterprising insects,—well,—their style of locomotion, though irregular, accomplishes remarkable results. By the way, I doubt that story of a pair of fleas, harnessed into a tiny chariot and broken into a trot".
"So do I," said Mr. Norton. "'Tis a libel on them. They couldn't go such a humdrum gait".
"That reminds me", said Mr. Somers, "of a very curious and original painting I saw in England. It represented the ghost of a flea".
"Ridiculous!" exclaimed John. "You are romancing, Ned".
"I am stating a fact. It was painted by that eccentric genius, Blake, upon a panel, and exhibited to me by an aquaintance, who was a friend of the artist".