XLVIII.

Round spun the herd in a great black wheel, Slower an' slower--ye've seen beneath A biggish torrent a whirlpool spin, Its waters black es the face of Death? 'Pear'd sort of like that the "millin'" herd We kept by the leaders--HIM and me, Neck by neck, an' he sung a tune, About a young gal, nam'd Betsey Lee!