The boys looked at each other.
“I say, fellers,” said Con, “a piece of pie and a hunk of fresh bread wouldn’t go bad—eh?”
The two answered with a hungry look.
“But let’s tough it out over Sunday, or they’ll all laugh at us.” And so they did; but it was the longest, dreariest Sabbath they ever spent.
“I’d rather learn ten chapters in Chronicles,” Tom affirmed, “than put in another such a Sunday.”
They had, in the main, a jolly time, but the ending was not as brilliant as they had looked for. They never regretted going, but the next year took a larger party, and went for a shorter time.
THE SENTIMENTAL FOX.
“Oh, beautiful wild duck, it pains me to see,
You flying aloft in that gone sort of way,
Sweet one, fare you well. I could shed many tears,
But my deepest emotions I never betray.
“I’ve always admired you, wonderful bird,
By the light of the sun and the rays of the moon;
I tell you ’tis more than a fox can endure,
To know that you take your departure so soon.