One Day, Sitting In The Shade Of Our Bough-House, We Were Engaged In Cobbling.

Gibson used to tread so unevenly on his boots that the heels were turned nearly upwards, and he walked more on the uppers than on the soles, therefore his required all the more repairing.

Picking up one of my boots that I had just mended, Gibson looked very hard at it, and at last said, "How do you manage to wear your boots so straight?" "Oh," I said, "perhaps my legs are straight." He rejoined, "Well, ain't mine straight too?" I said, "I don't know; I don't see them often enough to tell," alluding to his not bathing. "Well," he said at last, with a deep sigh, "By G - " - gum, I suppose he meant - "I'd give a pound to be able to wear my boots as straight as you. No, I'm damned if I wouldn't give five-and-twenty bob!" We laughed. We had some rolls of smoked beef, which caused the ants to come about the camp, and we had to erect a little table with legs in the water, to lay these on. One roll had a slightly musty smell, and Gibson said to me, "This roll's rotten; shall I chuck it away?" "Chuck it away," I said; "why, man, you must be cranky to talk such rubbish as throwing away food in such a region as this!" "Why," said he, "nobody won't eat it." "No," said I, "but somebody will eat it; I for one, and enjoy it too." Whereupon he looked up at me, and said, "Oh, are you one of them as likes yer meat 'igh?" I was annoyed at his stupendous stupidity, and said, "One of them!

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