Many years ago, when I was a little fellow, I went on a sail with my Uncle Ralph on one of the prettiest of our northern lakes. The day was fine, the air was mild but fresh, and the hills and banks around us were clothed in green.
Besides Uncle Ralph, in the boat were my Aunt Mary, and cousins Walter and Susan Brent. Uncle Ralph was a sportsman, and he had a gun, with which he hoped to bring down a deer, in case he should see one.
I did not at all like this part of his plan. I knew it would mar my own and my aunt's pleasure, if we were made to see the death of a noble stag or a gentle fawn. But I was too fond of a sail to express my dislike of Uncle Ralph's plan.
At the foot of a hill we stopped in our little boat to pick berries. Aunt Mary said she would stay and read. The rest of us went with Uncle Ralph to a clearing near by, to pick raspberries.

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