the place whar the fox-grapes tuck holt o'
the cyprus, when I was stopped by a sound far more terrefic than the
screech o' the eagles. It was the creakin' an' crashin' o' timber along
wi' that unairthly rumblin' ye may hear when the banks o' the
Massissippi be a cavin' in, as they war then. I ked see the trees that
stood atween me an' the river trimblin' and tossin' about, an' then
goin' with a loud swish, an' a plunge, into the fast flowin' current o'
the stream. The cyprus itself shook, as if the wind war busy among its
branches. I felt a suddint jerk upon it, an' then it righted agin', an'
stood steady as a rock. The eagles above screamed wuss than iver, while
Zeb Stump below war tremblin' like an aspick.

"I know'd well enough what it all meant, but knowin' didn't give me any
great satesfaction, since I believed that in another minit the cyprus
mout cave in too! I didn't stay the ten thousanth fraction o' a minit. I
hurried to get back to the groun'; an' soon reached the place whar the
grape-vine joined on to the cyprus. Thur warn't no grape-vine to be
seen. It war clear gone! The tother tree to which its roots had been
clingin' had gone into the river, takin' the fox-grape along wi' it. It
war that gev the pluck I felt when descendin' fro' the neest. I looked
below. The river had changed its channel. Instead o' runnin' twenty
yards from the spot, it war surgin' along clost to the cyprus, which in
another minit mout topple over, whirl along, and be swallowed in the
frothin' water.

"I ked do nuthin' but stay whar I war,--nothin' but wait an'
watch,--listenin' to the screamin' o' the eagles,--skeeart like
myself,--the hoarse roarin' o' the angry water, an' the crashin' o' the
trees, as one arter another fell victims to the flood."

I was fascinated by this narration. Old Zeb's thoughts, notwithstanding
the _patois_ in which they were expressed, had risen to the sublime; and
although he paused for some minutes, I made no attempt to interrupt his
reflections, but in silence awaited the continuance of his tale.

"Wal, what do ye suppose I did nixt?" asked Zeb.

"Really, I cannot imagine," I replied, considerably astonished by Old
Zeb's abrupt and unexpected question.

"Wal, ye don't suppose I kim down from the tree?"

"I don't see how you could."

"Neyther did I, for I kedn't. I mout as well 'a' tried to git down the
purpendiklar face o' the Chickasaw bluffs, or the wall o' Jackson
Court-House. So I guv it up,