[241] ‘What, from Dick Wilson?’ ‘Sartin,’ said the Skipper. ‘And how is he?’ ‘Alive and hearty. I tell you what, Doctor, physicking and blistering are all well enough, may be; but if you want to set a fellow up when he's kinder run down, there's nothing like a fishing trip to Labrador, 'specially if he's been bothering himself with studying, and writing, and such like. There's nothing like fish chowders, hard bunks, and sea fog to take that nonsense out of him. Now, this chap,’ (the Skipper here gave me a thrust in the ribs by way of designation,) ‘if I could have him down with me beyond sunset for two or three months, would come back as hearty as a Bay oa Fundy porpoise.’ Assuring him that I would like to try the experiment, with him as skipper, I begged to know the history of the case he had spoken of. The old fisherman smiled complacently, hitched up his pantaloons, took a seat beside us, and, after extracting a jack-knife from one pocket, and a hand of tobacco from the other, and deliberately supplying himself with a fresh quid, he mentioned, apologetically, that he supposed the Doctor had heard it all before. ‘Yes, twenty times,’ said the Doctor; ‘but never mind; it's a good story yet. Go ahead, Skipper.’ ‘Well, you see,’ said the Skipper,
this young Wilson comes down here from Hanover College, in the spring, as lean as a shad in dog-days. He had studied himself half blind, and all his blood
