COMPANIONS OF MY SOLITUDE. 155 



Still, there are drawbacks to one's felicity. I 

 passed by a small house not long ago. A little 

 scrap of a boy stood at the back gate, and, as I 

 vanished down the road, these words were wafted 

 to mine ears, "There's the lady that catches 

 fish." 



I am consoled, however, by the appellation, 

 " lady." Let all fish-women be hereafter known 

 as " fish-ladies." To such a pass has come our 

 English tongue. 



Let us turn our attention to the brook. But 



" Missis," says a baby voice, and a little boy 

 with a blue apron on looks through the fence. 



"What is it?" I answer, knowing well what 

 is coming. 



" What you catching ? " 



And, with a patience born of long endurance, 

 I answer, " Water-beetles." 



" Fish for sale. Three for a nickel," remarks 

 a youngster to his friend, as he perceives me 

 passing the oak-tree he is trying to climb. 



" Missis, here 's a bug," shouts a deceptive 

 youth from the shade of a locust-tree. 



But I am not to be deceived into going after 

 that mythical " bug," for I know the " ways that 

 are dark and tricks that are vain " of California 

 boys, and the unbelieving smile with which I look 

 at the group convinces that youth that the bril- 

 liant joke is fully understood by " missis." 



" Them 's my weeds," squealed a little skip- 



