I soon observed that he was making acquaintances here and there, and asking questions which would go far to make good his loss of schooling for a time.  Finding out about what one sees is, in my belief, one of the best ways of getting an education.  The trouble with most of us is that we accept what we see, without inquiry or knowledge.

The children were much interested in scenes witnessed from the side of the boat farthest from the wharf.  Here in the enclosed water-space were several kinds of craft, but the most curious in their eyes was a group of canal boats—­“queer travelling houses” Mousie called them; for it was evident that each one had a family on board, and the little entrance to the hidden cabin resembled a hole from which men, women, and children came like rabbits out of a burrow.  Tough, hardy, barefooted children were everywhere.  While we were looking, one frowsy-headed little girl popped up from her burrow in the boat, and, with legs and feet as red as a boiled lobster, ran along the guards like a squirrel along a fence.

“O dear!” sighed Mousie, “I’d rather live in a city flat than in such a house.”

“I think it would be splendid,” protested Winnie, “to live in a travelling house.  You could go all over and still stay at home.”

I was glad on our return to find my wife dozing in her chair.  She was determined to spend in rest the hours on the boat, and had said that Mousie also must be quiet much of the afternoon.

Between three and four the crush on the wharf became very great.  Horses and drays were so mixed up that to inexperienced eyes it looked as if they could never be untangled.  People of every description, loaded down with parcels, were hurrying on board, and it would seem from our point of view that American women shared with their French sisters an aptness for trade, for among the passengers were not a few substantial, matronly persons who appeared as if they could look the world in the face and get the better of it.

CHAPTER XI

A VOYAGE UP THE HUDSON

As four P.M. approached, I took the children to a great glass window in the cabin, through which we could see the massive machinery.

“Now,” said I, “watch the steel giant; he is motionless, but in a moment or two he will move.”

True enough, he appeared to take a long breath of steam, and then slowly lifted his polished arms, or levers, and the boat that had been like a part of the wharf began to act as if it were alive and were waking up.

“Now,” I asked, “shall we go to the after-deck and take our last look at the city, or forward and see the river and whither we are going?”

“Forward! forward!” cried all in chorus.