As for me, I turned an empty box up on its end, so as to get out of the way of the fleas, and perched myself on it, finding ample occupation in defending my position from the attacks of the active little wretches.

Sometimes I felt as if I must rush out into the lake and drown myself and my tormentors together.

It was very bad for everybody.

The poor boatmen doubtless wished to smoke, but were too polite to do anything of the sort.

F---- had nothing whatever to read, except a torn piece of an old _Times_, at least two years old, which we had brought to wrap up some of our provisions; whilst I was still more idle and wretched.