For a day or two the place looked so like an overflowed Arkansas town, because of its currentless waters laving the very doorsteps of all the houses, and the cluster of boats made fast under the windows, or skimming in and out of the alleys and by-ways, that I could not get rid of the impression that there was nothing the matter here but a spring freshet, and that the river would fall in a few weeks and leave a dirty high-water mark on the houses, and the streets full of mud and rubbish.

Thinking it a mark of distinction, the Dog grew proud of his bell and went tinkling it all over the marketplace.

And as usual old `Uncle Mark Miller' brought me from the station with his ancient buggy and what he calls his `generous purpose' horse.