Fishes playing the Jewsharp.
Wehave often a very queer story from the far South and West. It is a land of wonders; for there they have alligators fifteen feet long; rattlesnakes by the bushel; gallinippers as big as gad flies; birds that cry out at night, “Chuck-will’s-widow!” mocking birds that surpass the far-famed nightingale in song; pigeons in such abundance as to crush the forests; wild deer that stare you in the face from the bushes; bisons as abundant as cattle at Brighton; bears with claws five inches long; and men, and women too, as brave as Julius Cæsar.
Such things there really are, in the far west; but once in a while they tell us tales that are too much for us, sober Yankees, to believe. Perhaps, in these cases, our bush-friends are only quizzing. They have lately sent us the following tale; it is a little too beautiful, I am afraid, to be really true. However, if it turns out a fable, it is a very pretty one. Only think, a tub of cat fishes, turned musicians—and that too after having had their mouths torn by the hook!Bravo! But here is the story, as we find it in the papers.
“One of the wonders of the south-west is the mysterious music at West Pascagoula. A correspondent of the Baltimore Republican, who examined it attentively, thus takes the mantle of romance from it.
“During several of my voyages on the Spanish main, in the neighborhood of ‘Baragua,’ and ‘San Juan de Nicharagua,’ from the nature of the coast, we were compelled to anchor at a considerable distance from the shore; and every evening, from dusk to late at night, our ears were delighted with the Æolian music that could be heard beneath the counter of our schooner. At first, I thought it was the sea-breeze sweeping through the strings of my violin, (the bridge of which I had inadvertently left standing;) but, after examination, found it was not so. I then placed my ear on the rail of the vessel, when I was continually charmed with the most heavenly strains that ever fell upon my ear. They did not sound as close to us, but were sweet, and mellow, and ærial; like the soft breathings of a thousand lutes, touched by the soft fingers of the deep sea nymphs, at an immense distance. To the lone mariner, far from home and kindred, at the still hour of twilight, the notes were soothing, but melancholy.
“‘Although I have considerable ‘music in my soul,’ one night I became tired, and determined to fish. My luck in half an hour was astonishing—I had half filled my bucket with the finest white cat-fish I ever saw; and it being late, and the cook asleep, and the moon shining, I filled my bucket with water, and took fish and all into my cabin for the night.
“‘I had not yet fallen asleep, when the same sweet notes fell upon my ear; and getting up, what was my surprise to find my ‘cat-fish’ discoursing sweet sounds to the sides of my bucket.
“‘I examined them closely, and discovered that there was attached to each lower lip an excrescence, divided by soft wiry fibres, and by the pressure of the upper lip thereon, and by the exhalation and discharge of breath, a vibration was created similar to that produced by the breath on the tongue of the jewsharp.’”