he replied, in a tone indicative of sorrow; ’blast you, and your Young American policy.  This is the natural result of soaring above a reasonable level..  Your manifest destiny is finding its proper depths now!’ John was terribly chagrined; he reckoned Young America was a shade too fast.  Flying, he said, was at best a mighty poor business; once again on firm footing he would for ever look upon manifest destiny as the most aerial thing of the fast nineteenth century.

CHAPTER XI.

MR. SMOOTH IS RIGHT SIDE UP.

“‘This side up—­with care!’ said I, finding we must come down, and keeping an eye on John, who looked as burly as a drifting ale pipe in a head sea, and whispered something about Young America being an unpleasant companion to sail the air with.  Feeling how much better it was to be good-natured, I took the matter mathematically, trusting to the best.  To be always right end up is a principle never to be lost sight of.  There was land below us, firm and frowning; which, before we knew where we were, we had slipped into, like preserved meat, up to our arm-pits.  Poor John made an awful blubbering; seeing which, I told him to be good-natured, and at the same time inquired if he had worked up his whereabouts on the way down.

“‘A pretty affair this!’ said he, angrily.  ’Here, on a desolate island, surrounded by a broad ocean, what chance is there for us to save ourselves, or ever again make the confines of civilization?  Despondency knows no joking; and, in such a perplexity, questions about reckoning are out of place.  You may make light of it, Mr. Smooth; but, if you please, let us think of some way to deliver ourselves,’ grumbled John, sweating, puffing, and blowing.  Finally, he said he wished the old gentleman with the horns had made a previous demand on him, inasmuch as it would have saved him the trouble of dying on so desolate a spot, which to him seemed the sorest grievance of all.

“’You groan over it some, don’t you, old fellow?  Reckon how you hain’t seen a Yankee try his ingenuity.  Just puff a spell, until Mr. Smooth calmly studies a little philosophy, which is a mighty good thing in cases of emergency like this,’ I remarked in reply, getting my ideas into a fix, in order to bring out the best point of operation.  Working myself out in a cool sort of way, I seized hold of him by the shoulders, and yanked him straight out, like a log from a marsh slough.  ‘Now, take it all for the best, John,’ I rejoined encouragingly, going to work and putting up a liberty pole, to which I tacked the stars and stripes, while John was grumbling, growling, and methodizing about saving himself.  This done on behalf of my country, and Young America more particularly, I set about erecting a hut, wherein we could both turn in for the night.  With me it was sink the desponding and keep up a stiff spring of hope; but when bed-time came, John made a great fuss about his night-cap and