occasions. There had been a rise in Beech river sufficient to muddy
the water, and I knew the only chance was for cat (_bull-pouts_ the
Yankees call them,) so I chose a big hook and baited with a chunk of
bacon, big enough for an eight-pounder at least. That hook was a
Limerick, for which I had sent all the way to Porter, of 'The Spirit'
--that hook I was never more to behold.

"The boy chose for himself a steep place about ten yards below me, and
after sticking his pole in the mud, like a lazy fellow, as he is,
amused himself by counting the stamens in some sorrel-flowers that
grew thick thereabouts. I listened to his chatter for a while as he
vacillated in his numbers--eight--nine--ten--twelve--until my own
thoughts took an interesting turn, and I heard to more of him for
several minutes. Then the sound of his voice again struck one, but a
little distance further down stream, as he tailed out--'Oh, Pa, look!'

"Being well accustomed to his 'mares' nests,' I did not turn until he
had repeated several times the same words, and it was the singularity
of his tones at last that caused me to do it. His voice was
indescribably plaintive, clear, but low, and each vowel sound was
drawn out at great length, thus--' Oh-h-h-h, Pa-a-a-a, loo-oo-oo-ook,
--with the diminuendo, soft as the ring of a glass vessel, when struck.
I have heard Kyle, the flutist, while executing some of his thrilling
touches, strike his low notes very much like it. Slewing myself partly
round in my seat, I observed the little fellow standing bent forward,
his hands stretched out before him as if shielding his face from a
bush, while his whole body worked to and fro like the subjects in
certain mesmeric experiments that I nave observed when first they are
brought under 'the influence' of the operator. His face was partly
turned from me, but the cheek, which I saw was pale as death, and his