s it off, this side up wid care, to
the musayum. Sure I copied it: be me sowl, an' if ye doubt me word, here
it is."

Mr. McGrath handed me a piece of paper torn off the margin of a newspaper,
on which he had written legibly enough, "_Micropteros Floridanus_" I read
it as gravely as I could, smiled feebly at my own ignorance, and returned
it to him, saying, "Upon my word, McGrath, you are perfectly right. What a
blessing it is to have had a classical education!"

"Sorra lie in it," said he proudly as he replaced the slip in the crown of
his hat; "an' it's meself that's glad of it."

I can but throw myself upon the mercy of every respectable disciple of the
art before whom this confession may come when I say that during this
conversation I was employed in taking off my flies and in substituting
therefor a strong bass-hook and a cork, after the effective fashion of Mr.
McGrath. When this never-to-be-sufficiently-despised device was ready I
took from the bucket a small and unhappy sunfish, immolated him upon my
hook by passing it through his upper and lower lips, and cast him out upon
the stream. The red top of the cork spun merrily down the current and out
among the oily ripples of the deep water below, but Mr. McGrath could beat
me completely in handling his. I noticed that I threw my fish so that it
struck hard upon the water, "knocking the sowl out of it," as he said,
while he threw his hither and thither with the greatest ease, always taking
care to do it with the least possible amount of violence, and keeping it
alive as long as possible. However, it was not long before my cork
disappeared with a peculiar style of departure abundantly indicative of the
cause, to which I replied by a vigorous "strike." My cork came up promptly,
and with it my hook, bare. The sunfish had found a grave within the natural
enemy of his species, and I had missed my fish.

"Divvle a wondher!" said Mr. McGrath in reply to a remark to that
effect--"being, sorr, that ye're not familiar wid their ways. Ye see, sorr,
he comes up an' he nips that fish be the tail, an' away wid him to a
convanient spot for to turn him an' swallow him head first, by rason of his
sthickles an' fins all p'intin' the other way. Whin he takes it, sorr, jist
let him run away wid it as far as he likes, but the minit he turns to
swallow it, an' says to himself, 'What an illigant breakfast this is, to be
sure!' that minit slap the hook into his jaw, an' hould on to him f