“That might be the case,” said Glenn, “if you were to dream about the same thing from sun-down till sun-up. And I believe the fish was running in your head last night before I went to bed, for you were then snoring and jerking your arms about.” “Well, I’ll tell you my other dream, anyhow. I dreamt I was walking along Spruce Street wharf with my head down, when all at once my toe struck against a red morocco pocket-wallet; I stooped down and picked it up and put it in my pocket, and went home before I looked to see what was in it.” “Well, what was in it when you did look?” asked Glenn. “There was a one thousand dollar note on the Bank of the United States, with the president’s and cashier’s names on it, all genuine. Oh, I was so happy! I put it in my vest-pocket and sewed it up.” “But what have you done with it since?” asked Glenn. “I—Hang it! it was only a dream!”[1] said Joe, unconsciously feeling in his empty pocket. “But what has that dream to do with the fish?” pursued Glenn. “I’ll tell you,” said Joe. “When I got up in the morning and discovered it was a dream, I slipped on my clothes as quickly as possible and set off for the wharf. When I got there, I walked along slowly with my head down till at length my toe struck against an oyster-shell. I picked it up, and while I was looking at it, the captain of a schooner invited me on board of his vessel to look at his cargo of oysters, just stolen from Deep Creek, Virginia. He gave me at least six dozen to eat!” “And this makes you have faith in such dreams?” asked Glenn, striving in vain to repress his laughter. “I got _something_ by the dream,” said Joe. “I had a first rate oyster-breakfast.” “But what has all this to do with the fish?” continued Glenn; “perhaps, instead of the fish, you expect to catch a _frog_ this time. You will still be an Irishman, Joe. Go and try your luck.” “St. Patrick forbid that I should be any thing else but an Irishman! I should like to know if an Irishman ain’t as good as anybody else, particularly when he’s born in America, as I was? But the dream in Philadelphia _did_ have something to do with a fish. Didn’t I catch a fish? Isn’t an oyster a fish? And it had something to do with _this_ fish, too. I’ve been bothering my head ever since I got up about what kind of _bait_ to catch him with, and I’m sure I never would have thought of the right kind if you hadn’t mentioned that _frog_ just now. I recollect they say that’s the very best thing in the world to bait with for a catfish. I’ll go straight to the brook and hunt up a frog!” Saying this, Joe set out to execute his purpose, while Glenn proceeded to Roughgrove’s house to see how William progressed in his studies.