SUele te EOI Oye Wise SION USK Sst AILS.

ACK WINTER burst into the cheery New England kitchen with a wild‘
whoop. It was Friday afternoon; the next day was Saturday, and Jack
_ was going fishing.

Gran’ ther Green, with his great iron-bound spectacles, sat in his own particu-
lar corner reading the Cape Cod Jtem. The Widow Winter was frying dough-
nuts, and several little Winters were grouped around her with an air of
expectation.

“ What's that parcel, Jack?” inquired the widow from her place at the
frying-pan.

“Oh! that?” said Jack. “That's a chart; Captain Seth Mallow lent it to
me. He’s teaching me navigation, you know. It’sachart of Nantucket and
the ‘Vineyard’ and the ‘Cape.’ It’s got everything down on it, but it ain’t
half right. ‘Old Man’ Shoal is about two miles out, and there ain’t any ‘slue’ in
Point Rip, and lots of things are wrong ; but then, some of those Government fel-
lows made it a long time ago, and of course it ain’t natural they should know as
much about these waters as we do. And, mother, I’m going fishing to-morrow
— going before daylight so as to catch the tide; ‘Hunk’ Coffin’s going with
me; the mackerel are running like everything on the ‘ Rip,’ and I'll bring back
a barrelful, or my name’s not Jack Winter.”

Jack was a Nantucketer, a Nantucketer born and bred. Most of his life had
been spent on the little island, and like all the rest of the male inhabitants he
was as nearly amphibious as it is pessible for a human being to be; land or
water, it was all the same to him; he was equally at home on either element.
He knew just the place on Maddequet to lie and wait in the early spring for