"Then why don't you do it?" interrupted Peterkin. "Why have you kept us in the dark so long, you vile philosopher?"
"Because," said Jack, "I have not seen the tree yet, and I'm not sure that I should know either the tree or the nuts if I did see them. You see, I forget the description."
"Ah! that's just the way with me," said Peterkin with a deep sigh. "I never could keep in my mind for half an hour the few descriptions I ever attempted to remember. The very first voyage I ever made was caused by my mistaking a description, or forgetting it, which is the same thing. And a horrible voyage it was. I had to fight with the captain the whole way out, and made the homeward voyage by swimming!"
"Come, Peterkin," said I, "you can't get even me to believe that."
"Perhaps not, but it's true, notwithstanding," returned Peterkin, pretending to be hurt at my doubting his word.
"Let us hear how it happened," said Jack, while a good-natured smile overspread his face.
"Well, you must know," began Peterkin, "that the very day before I went to sea, I was greatly taken up with a game at hockey, which I was playing with my old school-fellows for the last time before leaving them. You see I was young then, Ralph." Peterkin gazed in an abstracted and melancholy manner, out to sea! "Well, in the midst of the game, my uncle, who had taken all the bother and trouble of getting me bound 'prentice and rigged out, came and took me aside, and told me that he was called suddenly away from home, and would not be able to see me aboard, as he had intended. 'However',
