WE are getting a capital breeze over here," said my friend Bob Hale, who was seated at my side in the Splash. "There is always plenty of wind over here when it comes from the north-west," I replied. It was one of the last days of May, and the weather, which had been chilly and disagreeable during the preceding week, was warm and pleasant. I had been to school, as usual, in my boat, and was taking Bob out for a sail, intending to land him at Parkville before dark, and return to the cottage of my uncle beyond the town. I had made one long stretch with the wind on the beam, nearly over to Cannondale; in fact, the water was beginning to shoal off the point half a mile to the northward and eastward of that town.