The view of Templeton from the sea was perfect, and the sharp outline of the Sprit Rock above them was grandeur itself.
Dick, as he lolled over the side of the boat, slowly hauling up his line and speculating whether he had got two fish on each hook or only one, felt supremely at peace with himself and all the world.

The sandwiches had been delicious, Cresswell and Freckleton had treated him like a lord, the pile of fish on the floor of the boat was worthy of a professional crew, the light breeze was just enough to keep the sun in his place, and the sofa he had made for himself with Freckleton's ulster in the bows was like a feather bed.

Dick loved the world and everything in it, and when Cresswell said, "Walk into those sandwiches, young 'un," he really thought life the sweetest task in which mortal can engage.
Cresswell and Freckleton were scarcely more proof against the luxury of the morning.

They chatted in a sort of sleepy undertone, as if they knew all Nature was taking a nap and didn't want to be disturbed.
"How did you think old Jupiter got through levee ?" asked Cresswell.
"Well, for those who wish him well," said the Hermit.
"Ah, he's an uphill job before him, and I fancy he knows it.

If he ever is down in the mouth, I think he was so last night after it was all over." "I thought so too," said Freckleton; "that is, I shouldn't call it down in the mouth.