DIGGING BAIT. 81 



chicken," and let it go at that. They are not 

 epicures. A youngster of five or thereabouts 

 asked for it four times. I partook of it as many 

 or more. He and I are gourmets. We believe 

 in nature's food when we can get it, not always 

 in civilized domestic food like minced pig. 



While dinner was preparing we dug bait. 

 The boy helped, and when a spadeful of earth 

 was upturned and several worms exposed he 

 would exclaim: "0 my, three, two, six!" He 

 was thus evidently but a beginner in arith- 

 metic. At first he picked up the worms without 

 shrinking. After a time, when one would wrig- 

 gle in his hand, he would drop it as he would a 

 hot plate. The old innate fear of a wriggling 

 snake was perhaps back of this. 



After dinner I started down the west side of 

 the large stream, down past many a riffle almost 

 filled with great masses of the water-willow, 25 

 now just beginning to show its pretty heads of 

 purplish-white flowers; down with the odor of 

 the wild fox grape in my nostrils. Distilled in 

 one of his happiest moods by the God of scent, 

 it is worth a mile's tramp any June day to whiff 

 its perfume. 



Three or four sunfish I caught on the way, 

 then stopped at the hole where on yesterday I 

 hooked the turtle and goggle-eyes. History 



26 Dianthera americana L. 

 &-B28 



