THE NATURALIST DEVELOPING. 65 
the formidable snags that protrude their dry rugged arms 
from some buried trunk imploringly towards the sunshine. 
Now we stem with laboring oars the polished glide with which 
the dark pool throws up its green waters from unsounded 
depths. 
We strain our eyes downwards through that dim yawning 
gulf in wondering awe, for here the legends say the earth- 
crust has been rent by the Evil One, who came one dark night 
of storm and horror to carry off a noted Infidel, who lived not 
far from hence, on a great plantation, years ago! Just be- 
yond a great cave yawns, too, and we can push the boat upon 
the lapsing transparency up beneath the dripping roof, until 
we shudder, of the rayless gloom, and dare not venture to go 
farther ; though it is said to bring us at last beneath a vast 
and vaulted roof, far under the hills. Here we let go our 
long lines over the side of the boat, in the Bottomless Spring, 
a hundred feet or so, and now for the trout or greedy pike. 
Ah, what a strange thrill it is, when we drag up with many 
a wary strain of hissing lines, the sparkling prey from that 
mysterious abyss. 
When the noon comes with its sultry heats, we leave our 
finny sport for new refreshing in those cool depths. Delicious 
plunges! down! deep down, with eager eyes opened on the 
wave, we strive to pierce its secrets—but in vain. Many an 
hour we struggled and plashed through the freshening waters, 
until the hot sun would scorch our exposed backs, and the 
blistered skin peel from the writhing flesh. Evening, and the 
return through lengthening shadows with our burdens of fish 
carried between us, found our flagging steps drag heavily on 
the hilly way, and the late moon rose behind the tall chim- 
neys as the “ Big House” came in welcome view ! 
Then there came, too, the long excursions in search for 
young squirrels through the deep trackless heart of the wild 
forest—or in the autumn to gather nuts; when, for either, we 
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