The little people who, like Mina, wish Mr. Otis a pleasant voyage, will be glad to read another letter from his pen:
On the Pasquotank.
Since it is neither a large nor important water-course, some of the readers of Young People may not know where the Pasquotank River is; but as it can readily be found on the map, those who care to read more about the cruise of the Toby Tyler should learn about it from their books, in order to better understand the direction taken by the little yacht after it came out of the Dismal Swamp. It will be remembered that the yacht arrived at the terminus of the canal quite late at night, so that it was impossible for any of the party to judge of the river they were to enter; but they had been told it was very crooked, and, without any other reason, all believed the journey of twenty-three miles to Elizabeth City would be a tedious one.
Never were travellers more pleasantly surprised than were those on the Toby during that Saturday morning sail.
The start was made about eight o'clock, just after the birds had cleared the breakfast things away, and were beginning their forenoon concert. The large audience, composed of the crickets, flowers, and leaves, were all in the best of moods, because the singing was really good, as well as in perfect harmony, and everything around was as bright and gay as possible, save, perhaps, the steward, who had fallen against the boiler and burned one of his ears.
The first two miles sailed after the last canal lock had been passed was not different from the trip through the swamp, for the little stream which ran into the river from the canal had been widened and straightened until it had almost ceased to be a natural water-course. But when the yacht glided around a sharp curve of the stream into the river, each one rubbed his eyes to assure himself that he was awake, and not dreaming of some land enchanted by the perfume and beauty of the flowers that were everywhere in the greatest profusion. They had crept to the very tops of the tallest trees, and then reaching down to the water, had left behind long, beautifully colored wreaths; they hung from every branch, and peeped from behind each tree trunk, disputing possession with the long gray moss, that seemed suddenly to have grown pale because of the almost overpowering perfume. Each side of the river seemed to be a bank of flowers, from out of which the branches of the trees rose like stems, while one could almost fancy the country one immense dish of water, in which flowers had been placed profusely, and that the wind had blown them apart, leaving a narrow channel for the yacht.
In the midst of such beauty the Toby seemed suddenly to have grown dingy-looking and dirty, and although she was at once decked out in her brightest flags and most brilliant adornments, the flowers put to blush any such feeble attempts at beautifying.
There was no question as to the truth of the statement that the river was crooked; it was much as if some one had marked out a number of W's, into which the water had flowed. It was necessary to sail almost directly first toward one bank, and then back, in the opposite direction, to the other, in order to keep in the channel; but no one regretted the devious course that made the journey longer, since the way was through the flower-trimmed trees on water so smooth and mirror-like that the foliage appeared as if painted on it.
Sometimes, when sailing around a bend in the river, the voyagers would come suddenly upon the gnarled and bleached trunk of some gigantic tree that uprose from amid the blooming forest like a withered stalk in a bouquet, causing everything around it to look more bright and cheerful because of the contrast.
There had been times during the journey when the yacht did not move through the water fast enough to satisfy some of the party, but during this sail there was not one who did not regret he was leaving so quickly a river so beautiful as this.
Although the Pasquotank is a charming stream throughout its entire course, its banks are not thus literally lined with flowers more than ten miles, but after that the scenery is sufficiently beautiful to make it interesting without approaching so near to enchantment.
When the Toby was about ten miles from Elizabeth City a draw-bridge was seen just ahead. It was not different from most other bridges, and yet it was approached with wonder and curiosity, for on it were nearly as many negroes as could be crowded there without too much risk that some of them would fall overboard. There were old men and women, young men and girls, and children of all ages, from a good-sized boy down to the tiniest and blackest of darky babies. Perhaps they were surprised at seeing the little yacht coming so swiftly toward them; certain it is that those on the Toby were surprised at seeing such a company, and awaited the meeting with no small degree of curiosity.
"Is yer gwine ter 'Liz'beth?" asked an old gray-headed darky, as he opened the draw of the bridge cautiously, as if he feared the yacht might escape him if he made ready for her coming too quickly.
On being told that the yacht was on her way to Elizabeth, he, assisted by nearly all present, told the reason of the assembling. They were all anxious to reach the city in order to attend a Conference which was to be held on the following day; the steamer, due some hours earlier, had not arrived, and they were waiting for her with many fears as to whether she would come during the day. As soon as the story had been told, the entire party began to plead that they be taken on board the Toby, with a force and earnestness that resulted in a terrible din.
There was not room enough on the little boat for one-tenth of the would-be passengers; but it was almost impossible to convince the anxious ones of that most palpable fact, and after every one on the yacht had screamed himself nearly hoarse in the effort, they were made to understand that but five of the party could be taken. It was comical, the sight they presented as they tried to decide as to whom the fortunate ones should be; each one urged that he or she was most needed at the Conference, and as each was overruled by the rest, they would loudly urge their claims to the party on the yacht, one old man proposing that he be taken on board, "an' leave der odder fool niggers ter fight it out."
It was fully half an hour before the question was decided, and then the Toby went on her way, with an addition to her passenger list in the shape of five as happy and inquisitive darkies as ever sailed down the Pasquotank Paver. They peered in at the cabin, careful not to touch anything, but anxious to see all the little room contained; they examined the machinery in the engine-room critically, while the oldest tried to explain how the boat could be propelled by the confusing-looking assortment of steel rods and bars. Then they went forward, where they gave themselves up to the enjoyment of the hour, as enthusiastic in their praise of the little steamer as one could wish they should be. After their delight had subsided in a measure, they began to be troubled about the amount they might be called upon to pay for their passage, but all their joy returned when they were told no money would be received. From that moment they were as happy as children, and insisted on singing a great number of camp-meeting songs as a means of showing their gratitude.
It was ten o'clock when the Toby was made fast to the dock at Elizabeth City, where the passengers were landed, evidently sorry to leave the little boat, even though it was to a Conference they were going.
James Otis.
Germantown, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
I sent you a letter a little while ago, but when I read in the last number about somebody seeing a dandelion on December 9, I thought I would write and tell you that to-day my cousin came in, and holding up a dandelion, said, "Look at that!" We have a pet cat. I went skating last Monday, and saw a man break through the ice.
W. S. N.