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Updated: June 17, 2025
At times we fished, and one evening, after we had passed the expanse of water at the mouth of the Ohio, Nick pulled a hideous thing from the inscrutable yellow depths, a slimy, scaleless catfish. He came up like a log, and must have weighed seventy pounds. Xavier and his men and myself made two good meals of him, but Nick would not touch the meat. The great river teemed with life.
If he can't find a roaring billow, I'll be perfectly satisfied to have him chucked into a creek. And I dare say that it'll make no material difference whether the dolphins gobble him or the catfish and eels nibble him up. It's all the same in the long run. Mention this to your murderer when you speak to him, will you? Now, I'll show you why this thing takes all the heart out of me.
That's the confounded queerest thing I ever heard of, that I can't remember that word," said Mr. Lamb, getting warm and beginning to feel miserable. "Well, give us the rest of the story without it," said Potts. "That's the mischief of it," said Mr. Lamb. "The whole joke turns on that infernal word." "Two horns did you say?" asked Dr. Dox. "Maybe it is a catfish."
There were not many fish in that part of the Miami; my boy's experience was full of the ignominy of catching shiners and suckers, or, at the best, mudcats, as they called the yellow catfish; but there were boys, of those who cursed and swore, who caught sunfish, as they called the bream; and there were men who were reputed to catch at will, as it were, silvercats and river-bass.
"There isn't anythin' that swims that's meaner than a 'mad-Tom, an' they're frequent in all the rivers o' the middle west an' south. A 'mad-Tom," he continued in answer to the boy's questioning look, "is a small catfish with spines.
"Speakin' of catfish, Jim thinks he's hoein' some potatoes." said Field to a group of his friends. "If one of us real live spirits of Borealis had bin in his place, it's ten to one we'd 'a' found a pair of twins." All the remainder of the day, and even after dinner, and up to eight o'clock in the evening, the new arrivals, or the old ones over again, made the cabin on the hill their Mecca.
The tiny pilgrim, whom they all regarded so fondly, had gone to sleep and Jim had placed him in his bunk. In the chimney a glowing fire drove away the chill of the wintry air. "Speakin' of catfish, of course we'll hang up his stockin'," said Field. "Christmas wouldn't be no Christmas without a stockin'." "Stockin'!" echoed the blacksmith.
Wimmens is mons'us onreasonable nohow. Dey's jes' like a catfish: you can n' tek hole on 'em like udder folks, an' when you gits 'im yo' can n' always hole 'em. "What meks me think so?
It is surmised by the biographers that the young Shakespeare got his vast knowledge of the law and his familiar and accurate acquaintance with the manners and customs and shop-talk of lawyers through being for a time the CLERK OF A STRATFORD COURT; just as a bright lad like me, reared in a village on the banks of the Mississippi, might become perfect in knowledge of the Bering Strait whale-fishery and the shop-talk of the veteran exercises of that adventure-bristling trade through catching catfish with a "trot-line" Sundays.
"Now, behold! my friend a-wheesht!" said La Certe, sneezing a bass accompaniment to Slowfoot's treble. "I will give you a catfish a whole catfish for a-wheesht! for that box and snuff." The Switzer shook his head. "Nay," he said. "The snuff you may have, but the box was the gift of a friend, and I am loath to part with it. Besides, the box is of little real value."
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