The Oxford intelligencer., 1860-10-24
From the New York s'Spirit of the Times.
A TrOut-FisIiing Excursion.

ter stars, was shining brightly, as, attended by
my servant we started for pond few miles
distant in anticipation Of trout-fish. Bait and
Kettle rods, lines, knife, scissors file, wax, spare
hooks, net gaf snack, a bottle of anti-snake-
bite, pipe matches, a couple ofbundles Of fod-
der, and gallon Of corn, all being snugly stow
ed away, we mounted the buggy, and taking the
ribbons in Woodruff style, off at theword dash
ed our old bay. The iron-shod hoof clattered
merrily on the plank road as we rode through
the village All was still The cock had not
yet crowed his matn. We saw nothing save a
solitary light. 1t might be the vigil lamp Of the
sick reoih, or the dip" tallo% candle of one
intent ON early trade, slecpless for the yearnng
want of one more dime. But we pass it ere the
thought is formed Clatter-clatter-awa we
CO. The old horse bears hard on his bit, and
willing hands yield freely, but judciously. And
now old SOL race betweenus as to which shall
rest on the pond first, your glorious beams or
our anxious eyes. Away we 60, like the King
of France, up the hill and down again now on
the level, and now ON the bridge Steady, old
fellow! Hold in for a mile or two, and then we
will give you your head The blue and black
bird, the first of the morning, are twittering
gladly to their mates. Too-tootoo hoot goes
the owl Take care, master" as over cows
tail went the near wheels, 'close driving dat,
for fore day." Six miles are past. -Four more,
with good luck, and the race will be won.-
Pheton himself, with his fiery colrsers on mad
~ tl,op
Brock could win the Goodwood with Prioress
G'lang-wc are pushing $40 now, old man.
Why, what's the matter with the old horse? II
is the cool luxurious bracing breeze, the careful
grooming, the birds sweet CAROL the easy plank
track, my old mans inspiriting song, that enl-
vens my pet steed. lie knows, too, that after
the mornings fish is over, sweet water and ten
der grass and little negro boy attentive to a
fault 0or tme) awaits his coming. Glang-
down the hill we go, the landing-the ponds
reached The eastern strcaks tell that old Sol
is coming, but our glad eyes, eager with hope,
have rested ON the pond, and have seen two
breaks, and his beams are not yet on its mirror
bosom, with its lily-pads, and green moss locks
waving gently and slightly, heaying up lttleto
kiss the morning breeze sweet with the odor of
dew and flower. The race is Won Out from
the hills comes the old horse, but not before he
bows his head to the carcss Of our old servant.
Harness off a bucket of water from the gushing
spring hard by, corn and fodder given, and our
gallant old pet is left to himself Lines and bait
out-canoc slowed snugly We at the bow, and
the old man at the stern with the paddle. One
push from, shore, and softly as the football Of
the iswn we glidcd noiselessly along toward
fallen messy log. We pass little green bough
growing out from an old stump. 4 graSshop
per, which might have sought shelter there
from some enemy, leaps of as we approach, and
takes the wrong direction. He had scarcely
gone twenty feet, when, from some cause, he
settles on the water. Ere he could spread his
green sides Of a trout appear for an instant, and
the poor little insect is seen no more. Our old
servant had seen it. What on water escapes
the eye of pscator? Back stroke and the
boat is still lie points to the bob, to which
we had just extended our hand. IT is ready in
moment, and dancing merrily in its gaudy col
ors on the surface. The boat just moves. But
yard is between US and the spot where the
poor grasshopper left our view. All! the wave
is coming: one quick deep breath. can see
the dorsal fin cutting the surface. Splash,
splash. The rod 9uiyers a heavy jar run to the
elbow, and down goes the red to the very mid
die.
"Pul straight-straight to yer, master"
''Back the boat he's trying to get under the
log"
Two minutes, and "six-pounder," with the
full round eye of the buck, lies at the bottom of
the boat. His fins are fun extended Ills
bcauteous silver sides, with their dark green and
gold, elisten in the rays of the now risen sun
His gill-covers heaye, and the deep red shows
brightly beneath 4 few convulsye heaves,
and the grasshopper and his foe are dead TO-
gcther The basket receives him. The bob is
lai aside, andas we are about to rise, my servant
bids me be still While | was admiring my
prize, he had thrown out his line with minnow
bait glanced towards the log just in time to
see the cork disappear with telegraphic rapidity.
The old man sits like Stole, yet his eye glistens
with pleasurable excitement A quick jerk,
and now commences the contest Of skill and ter,
ror Thesnags were many, and moss surround
ed the log but skill, experience and GOODNESS
had given perfect confidence TO the old man, AM
he managed his fish with the adroitness of gen
tie Izaak" Now down would go the trout but
Just so Car as the old man would allow, and not
an inch farther. The poor fish, game as Nash
county cock would dash right and left, then TO
the surface up would go the tip of the rod, now
for the logs, then for the moss, now for the boat
but it was all the same; the same master
hand there was no attemptto pull out the fish
! No, not he; he knew better-be knew but few
more dashes and it would all be Overcome more
and it is the last 1t was fierce pull; the
rod bends, the butt is yielded, and rolling over
from side to side the trout rises to the surface.
extend my hand, and taking him il, admire
his form and size, and think Of supper. Iplace
him carefully by the side of his dead companion.
There they lie, lovely pair Of twins.
The old man quietly smiles; takes a large
chew Of tobacco says '0tter-slide :" | nod
assent, and the boat glides along Few are the