RECREA TION. 



2 5i 



separated, and then a most horrible, 

 shrieking yell pierced the air : Ya-a-a- 

 re-AH ! Who-hoo-hoo, who-hoo-hoo, 

 who-hoo-AH ! It was the cry of the great 

 horned owl, so faithfully rendered that 

 for a moment I was completely de- 

 ceived. Then followed a perfect imi- 

 tation of "Judge Long's" (a shanghai 

 rooster) clarion call : Cock-a-doodle- 

 doo-AH ! 



"Get up, nunky, get up!" shouted 

 Kate. " Everything is ready. Ding ! 

 dong ! All aboard for the Falls of 

 Rough. Get up ! get up ! or I'll get a 

 board for you, nunky." 



After a hasty breakfast, rendered 

 worse than no breakfast at all by Kate's 

 impatience, I sallied out to the gate, 

 where Bob, the coachman, stood at the 

 heads of my span of Carbeau geldings. 



" Mornin', marse Doctor. Mornin', 

 sah ! You mus' keep yo' eye on dat 

 off hoss. Dat same Prince Cholly 

 done got Prince Beelzebob in 'im dis 

 mornin'." 



" Jump in, Kate and Mammy," said I, 

 eager to be off. " Let go their heads, 

 Bob. But, whoa ! Hold on a minute. 

 Kate, did you put in your violin ?" 



"Yes, uncle; fiddle and bow, note 

 book, rosin and all, are wrapped in my 

 blankets and safely packed away." 



" Let them go, Bob." 



We are off, down through the quiet 

 streets of the town, when Kate sings 

 such an exact imitation of a bugle re- 

 veille, that an old soldier, out for his 

 early morning walk, stands erect on a 

 corner, and gives us a military salute. 

 The drive through the blue grass country 

 is delightful. Kate is fairly crazed with 

 the beauty of the scene. As we pass a 

 quail, perched on a shock of wheat close 

 to the road, he salutes us with his clear 

 whistle. Kate stands erect, doffs her 

 cap and makes him a low bow. Then 

 she sings, in her rich contralto, to an 

 air I had never heard before : 



" When May's sweet flowers and happy hours 

 Have melted into June ; 

 And o'er the hills, the farmer trills 



His happy harvest tune ; 

 Then pure and clear, and sweet, we hear : 

 " Bob white, wheat's ripe ! 

 Bob white, wheat's ripe ! " 



The sun sails high, and crisp and dry 



The meadow grasses grow ; 

 Ripe, waving wheat for barns is meet, 



And this is why we know — 



For sweet and clear, and pure we hear : 

 " Bob white, wheat's ripe ! 

 Bob white, wheat's ripe !" 



" Where did you get that melody, 

 Kate ? It is a new one. At least, I 

 never heard it before." 



"Quite right, uncle, you never heard 

 it before, for I made it up last week, all 

 by my lone. To-night you shall hear it 

 on the violin, with all the trimmings." 



Just here a rabbit ran across the road, 

 and stopped at its edge, standing erect 

 on his haunches. Bang ! went Kate's 

 revolver followed by a wild plunge of 

 the team. I scolded her and she an- 

 swered : 



" I am sorry I frightened the horses, 

 but I am still more sorry I scared poor 

 Bunny. How he jumped when the bul- 

 let cut the dust under his feet." 



Over the last few miles the road is 

 rough and hilly, but my good horses 

 toil and tug with undiminished spirit, 

 and at length bring us to a lovely 

 plateau, where the trees stand far 

 apart, and the earth is carpeted with liv- 

 ing green, spangled with thousands of 

 ox-eye daisies. We hear the rush and 

 roar of falling waters, and between the 

 trees at one point, we see a cloud of 

 mist waving to and fro in the wind. 



"The Falls! the Falls !" shouted 

 Kate, and in the twinkling an eye, she 

 was out of the wagon, scurrying away 

 towards the river. In a few moments 

 she was back. 



" Uncle," she said, " in a short time the 

 sun will set. You will have to hurry 

 if you get the tent pitched, and the 

 camp ready before dark. In the mean- 

 while I will get something for supper." £ 



I " hurried;" pitched the tent, watered 

 and fed the horses, and did all that was 

 necessary for our comfort. In a few 

 moments Kate returned with a string of 

 sunfish. 



" Behold, most noble Roman, aren't 

 they beauties ? They bit like a house 

 afire. I caught thirteen. They are all 

 ready for the frying-pan, washed, clean- 

 ed, and " de-scaled " as Miss Sawyer 

 would say — and now for supper ! " 



" Mammy, you put on the coffee-pot 

 and the frying-pan," said I. " I must go 

 to the Falls to see if Miller has caught 

 the promised minnows. I will return as 

 soon as possible, and we will have supper." 



I found the minnows all right, and re- 

 turned to the camp, which I found bril- 



