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We'd be just as near the ocean at Sheepshead Bay race-track as on a Fall River boat, and " He halted and frowned unhappily. "We needn't bet more than ten dollars," he begged. "Of course," declared Dolly, "if they SHOULD win, you'll always blame ME!" Carter's eyes shone hopefully. "And," continued Dolly, "I can't bear to have you blame me. So "

In April, 1760, he writes: Apprehending the herring were come, hauled the seine but catched only a few of them, though a good many of other sorts.... Hauled the seine again, catched two or three white fish, more herring than yesterday and a great number of cats. August, 1768: Hauling the seine upon the bar of Cedar Point for sheepshead but catched none.

About two hours after dinner, I shall want to have a word with you in private, and will thank you just to step across to the house, where you will be certain to find me. Baiting Joe seems to have hooked something there, in 'arnest." "That has he! I'll answer for it that he has a sheepshead at the end of his line that will weigh eight or ten pounds."

The father and son talked horse all day and until one in the morning; for they owned fast thoroughbreds, and entered them at the Sheepshead Bay and other race-tracks. Old Mr. Paddock, the father of the girl to whom Travers was engaged, had often said that when a young man asked him for his daughter's hand he would ask him in return, not if he had lived straight, but if he could ride straight.

"'I talks to his swipe not very long ago, I says, ''n' he tells me he's good. "The ole nigger looks at me hard. "'Whar does you hol' dis convahsation at? he says. "'Sheepshead, I says. "'Does you reccomember de name ob de swipe? says the ole nigger. "'Sure! I says, 'I've knowed him all my life! His name is Duckfoot Johnson. "'Yes, suh! he says. 'Yes, suh an' what mought yo' name be?

Now Spinelloccio deserved it, and I mean to tell you of one who went seeking it for himself. Those who tricked him, I hold not to be blameworthy, but rather commendable, and he to whom it was done was a physician, who, having set out for Bologna a sheepshead, returned to Florence all covered with miniver.

"Here is Baiting Joe comed up from the wharf, wanting to see master," returned a grey-headed negro, who had formerly been a slave, and who now lived about the place giving his services for his support. "Baiting Joe! He is not after his sheepshead, I hope if he is, he is somewhat late in the day."

There was very little of the sheepshead left when this, its last assailant, shoved his plate back, the signal that he could do no more. He then finished a glass of rum-and-water, and seemed to be in a good condition to transact the business that had brought him there. Until this moment, he had made no allusion to the motive of his visit, leaving the deacon full of conjectures.