34 THE HIVE OF THE BEE-HUNTER. 
He found in me an attentive listener, and, therefore 
went into details, until he talked every one but myself 
asleep. 
From general remarks, he changed to addressing me 
personally, and as I had every thing to learn, he went 
from the elementary, to the most complex experience. 
‘‘ You are green in bar hunting,” said he to me, in a 
commiserating tone—‘‘ green as a jimson weed—but 
don’t get short-winded bout it, case it’s a thing like 
readin’, to be l’arnt ;—a man don’t come it perfectly at 
once, like a dog does; and as for that, they Varn a heap 
in time ;—thar is a greater difference tween a pup and 
an old dog on a bar hunt, than thar is ’tween a militia 
man and a regler. I remember when J could'nt bar 
hunt, though the thing seems onpossible now; it only 
takes time 

a true eye and a steady hand, though I did 
know a fellow that called himself a doctor, who said you 
could’nt do it, if you was narvious. 
“T asked him if he meant by that, agee and 
fever ! 
‘“ He said, it was the agee without the fever. 
“Thar may be such a thing as narvious, stranger, 
but nothing but a yarth quake, or the agee can shake me ; 
and still bar hunting aint as easy as scearing a wild tur- 
key, by a long shot. 
“The varmint aint a hog, to run with a— 
w—h—e—w ; just corner one—cotch its cub, or cripple 
it, and if you don’t have to fight, or get out of the way, 
