BEAR WITH SPECTACLES. 125

But that moon and that mighty sword
of silver in the air, the silence, the large
solemnity, the queer line of black heads
barely visible above the sea of weeds! al
was not right certain that I had lost any
bear as we came to the edge of the moss-
swept cypress woods, for here the negroes
all suddenly huddled up and muttered and
prayed with one voice. Aye, how they
prayed in their piteous monotone! How
sad it all was!

The dogs had sat down a few rods back,
a line of black dots along the path through
the tall weeds, and did not seem to care
for anything at all. I had to lay my hand
on the preacher’s shoulder and ask him
to please get on; then they all started on
together, and oh, the moon, through the
swaying cypress moss, the mighty river
above!

It was with great effort that I got them
to cross a foot-log that lay across a lagoon
only a little way in the moss-hung woods,
the brave dogs all the time only a short