Caleb in the Country. Abbott Jacob

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      “No,” said Caleb, “I am sure I put it on my nail.”

      “You did not have it, Caleb,” said David, mildly, “when we met you on the bridge.”

      “Didn't I?” said Caleb, standing still and trying to think.

      “No,” replied Dwight, decidedly.

      “I wish you would go up there with me, and help me find it.”

      “Why, we want to finish our mole,” said David.

      “I'll go,” said Dwight, “while you, David, get another load of gravel. Come, Caleb,” said he, “go and shew me where it was.”

      So Dwight and Caleb walked on. They went down to the bridge, crossed the stream upon it, then turned up, on the opposite bank, and walked on until they came to the cotton landing. Caleb then pointed to the place where he had fallen in; and they looked all about there, upon the bank, and in the water, but in vain. No whip was to be found.

      Before they returned, they stopped a moment at the cotton landing, and Caleb shewed Dwight that the cotton was all made of little bubbles. They got some of it to the shore and examined it, and then, just as they were going away. Dwight exclaimed, suddenly,

      “There is your whip, now, Caleb.”

      Caleb looked round, and saw that Dwight was pointing towards the little fall or rather great ripple of water, and there, just in the fall, was the whip-handle floating, and kept from drifting away by the lash, which had got caught in the rocks. There the handle lay, or rather hung, bobbing up and down, and struggling as if it was trying to get free.

      After various attempts to liberate it, by throwing sticks and stones at it, Dwight took off his shoes, turned up his pantaloons to his knees, and waded in to the place, and after carefully extricating the whip, brought it safely to the shore.