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"
Hark
!
do
you
not
hear
?
Is
it
but
the
mermaids
singing
deep
below
the
waving
waters
;
or
sad
spirits
,
chanting
dirges
for
white
corpses
,
held
by
seaweed
?
"
Harris
would
take
you
by
the
arm
,
and
say
:
"
I
know
what
it
is
,
old
man
;
you
've
got
a
chill
.
Now
,
you
come
along
with
me
.
I
know
a
place
round
the
corner
here
,
where
you
can
get
a
drop
of
the
finest
Scotch
whisky
you
ever
tasted
--
put
you
right
in
less
than
no
time
.
"
Harris
always
does
know
a
place
round
the
corner
where
you
can
get
something
brilliant
in
the
drinking
line
.
I
believe
that
if
you
met
Harris
up
in
Paradise
(
supposing
such
a
thing
likely
)
,
he
would
immediately
greet
you
with
:
"
So
glad
you
've
come
,
old
fellow
;
I
've
found
a
nice
place
round
the
corner
here
,
where
you
can
get
some
really
first-class
nectar
.
"
In
the
present
instance
,
however
,
as
regarded
the
camping
out
,
his
practical
view
of
the
matter
came
as
a
very
timely
hint
.
Camping
out
in
rainy
weather
is
not
pleasant
.
It
is
evening
.
You
are
wet
through
,
and
there
is
a
good
two
inches
of
water
in
the
boat
,
and
all
the
things
are
damp
.
You
find
a
place
on
the
banks
that
is
not
quite
so
puddly
as
other
places
you
have
seen
,
and
you
land
and
lug
out
the
tent
,
and
two
of
you
proceed
to
fix
it
.
It
is
soaked
and
heavy
,
and
it
flops
about
,
and
tumbles
down
on
you
,
and
clings
round
your
head
and
makes
you
mad
.
The
rain
is
pouring
steadily
down
all
the
time
.
It
is
difficult
enough
to
fix
a
tent
in
dry
weather
:
in
wet
,
the
task
becomes
herculean
.
Instead
of
helping
you
,
it
seems
to
you
that
the
other
man
is
simply
playing
the
fool
.
Just
as
you
get
your
side
beautifully
fixed
,
he
gives
it
a
hoist
from
his
end
,
and
spoils
it
all
.
"
Here
!
what
are
you
up
to
?
"
you
call
out
.
"
What
are
you
up
to
?
"
he
retorts
;
"
leggo
,
ca
n't
you
?
"
"
Do
n't
pull
it
;
you
've
got
it
all
wrong
,
you
stupid
ass
!
"
you
shout
.
