CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
THE PICNIC AT CAMP HILL BOTTOM.
Jorrocks, the school boatman, was a careful person, and suited his accommodation to his company.

He knew something about the expeditions of "learned societies" to Camp Hill Bottom and elsewhere, and the conclusion he had evidently come to, was that the boats best suited for their purpose were craft broad in the beam and deep in draught, in which it would be possible to argue out any subject without danger to life or limb.
By a coincidence which afforded more pleasure to my fellow-voyagers than to me, one of the two boats reserved for the use of the Conversation Club was named the _Sarah_, the other rejoicing in the inappropriate name of _Firefly_.

I was, of course, voted to a place of honour in the former, along with Langrish, Trimble, and seven other Philosophers of the same kidney; while Coxhead, Warminster, and Purkis took official charge of the _Firefly_, with an equal number of passengers.
It was noticeable, by the way, that at starting it was impossible for any two boys to sit close together, by reason of the stoutness of their pockets, which stood out on either side like rope buoys on the side of a penny steamer.

Indeed, some of the party seemed to me to be exceeding the limits laid down by the committee; as, not only were they prominent on either side, but unusually stout in front, which led one to suspect that they had converted their entire waistcoats into pockets for the time being, and stowed the with provisions.

But as the chief delinquents in this respect were the members of the executive committee, it was hardly for us to take official notice of it.
A hitch occurred at starting, owing to the uneven distribution of the "paupers" in the two boats.