he keeper of a menagerie his wild

    beasts, until I elicited a growl from every wooded vale and

    hillside.

    In ly sat in t playing te,

    and sao have charmed, hovering around me,

    and travelling over ttom, wrewed

    .  Formerly I o this pond

    adventurously, from time to time, in dark summer nigh a

    companion, and, making a fire close to ters edge, which we

    t attracted t pouts h a bunch of worms

    strung on a t, threw

    to ts, which, coming

    doo th a loud hissing, and we were

    suddenly groping in total darkness.  tling a tune,

    ook our o ts of men again.  But now I had made my

    he shore.

    Sometimes, after staying in a village parlor till the family had

    all retired, I urned to tly h a view

    to t days dinner, spent t fishing from a

    boat by moonlight, serenaded by owls and foxes, and hearing, from

    time to time, te of some unkno hand.

    to me -- anchored

    in forty feet of er, and ty or ty rods from the shore,

    surrounded sometimes by thousands of small perch and shiners,

    dimpling tails in t, and

    communicating by a long flaxen line erious nocturnal fishes

    beloimes dragging

    sixty feet of line about ted in tle night

    breeze, no vibration along it, indicative

    of some life pro its extremity, of dull uncertain

    blundering purpose to make up its mind.  At length

    you slowly raise, pulling  squeaking