hat has all this to do with the fish?" continued Glenn;
"perhaps, instead of the fish, you expect to catch a _frog_ this time.
You will still be an Irishman, Joe. Go and try your luck."

"St. Patrick forbid that I should be any thing else but an Irishman! I
should like to know if an Irishman ain't as good as anybody else,
particularly when he's born in America, as I was? But the dream in
Philadelphia _did_ have something to do with a fish. Didn't I catch a
fish? Isn't an oyster a fish? And it had something to do with _this_
fish, too. I've been bothering my head ever since I got up about what
kind of _bait_ to catch him with, and I'm sure I never would have
thought of the right kind if you hadn't mentioned that _frog_ just
now. I recollect they say that's the very best thing in the world to
bait with for a catfish. I'll go straight to the brook and hunt up a
frog!" Saying this, Joe set out to execute his purpose, while Glenn
proceeded to Roughgrove's house to see how William progressed in his
studies.

The intelligent youth, under the guidance of Roughgrove, Glenn, and
his unwearying and affectionate sister, was now rapidly making amends
for the long neglect of his education while abiding with the
unlettered Indians. He had already gone through the English grammar,
and was entering the higher branches of study. The great poets of his
own country, and the most approved novelists were his companions
during the hours of relaxation; for when the illimitable fields of
intellect were opened to his vision, he would scarce for a moment
consent to withdraw his admiring gaze. Thus, when it was necessary for
a season to cease his toil in the path of learning, he delighted to
recline in some cool shade with a pleasing book in his hand, and
regale his senses with the flowers and refreshing streams of
imaginative authors. And thus sweetly glided his days. Could such
halcyon moments last, it were worse than madness to seek the wealth
and honours of this world! In that secluded retreat, though far from
the land of his nativity, with no community but the companionship of
his three or four friends and the joyous myriads of birds--no palaces
but the eternal hills of nature, and no pageantry but the rays of the
rising and setting sun streaming in prismatic dies upon them, the
smiling youth was far happier than he would have been in the princely
halls of his fathers, where the sycophant only bent the knee to
receive a load of gold, and th