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TJie American A?iglcr. 



high noon, the sun blazing gloriously, 

 and the heat waves crinkling like bits 

 of satin as they rose from the ground. 

 The grass of the meadow had been 

 cut, and the dried products stored in 

 hay-cocks over the sward. Along the 

 little rivulet and around the big stones, 

 little bunches of red clover and of red 

 top grass had escaped the scythe of 

 the mowers. Uncle Jake was whistling 

 on his way home, with his pail well 

 filled with that delicious berry of the 

 running blackberry vine, known as the 

 "dew" berry. Riley was walking se- 

 dately by his side. All at once, as 

 the pair were passing that ledge of 

 rocks where the woodchuck had had his 

 home the year before, Riley pricked up 

 his ears, gave a short bark, leaped the 

 stone wall, and once over it, was 

 making speed toward a big brown ball 

 down by one of the bunches of tall 

 grass spoken of above. Uncle Jake 

 gave a yell of delight. In a trice he 

 was over the wall, spilling half of the 

 berries in his anxiety to get over quick- 

 ly. This time conditions were reversed. 

 The first saw the woodchuck between 

 his burrow and Uncle Jake. This 

 second occasion found the hunter and 

 his Jog between the hole and the wood- 

 chuck. With loud shouts from Uncle 

 Jake, and louder barks from Riley, the 

 hunt began. The woodchuck was at 

 the end of his rope at last. He started 

 on a run, but was met by the dog. He 

 started in the other direction, and found 

 Uncle Jake with a big stick in his hand, 

 ready to administer the coup de grace as 

 soon as he was within reach. Despite 

 the alertness of the dog, the animal 

 dodged quickly — the movem-ent of a 

 hare when closely pushed. Shorter and 

 shorter became these turns, until, at 

 last, 'chuck's wind gave out. After 

 that, the end soon came. What with 



dog and club, he soon became of his- 

 tory. Proud as a monarch did Uncle 

 Jake carry his prize homeward. Berries 

 and pail were alike forgotten. Upon 

 reaching the house, the prize was 

 shown to an admiring audience. Then 

 came a discussion as to whether this 

 was the same fellow that had been shot 

 the year before, and had gotten away 

 after being bowled over and thought 

 dead. "We'll soon find that out," said 

 farmer Uncle Peter. Out came his 

 jack-knife from his pocket, and 

 opened. The woodchuck was placed 

 upon his back. The sharp blade soon 

 cut a long slit down the belly, from 

 chin to tail. In a trice the pelt was off. 

 There was seen a curious sight. Right 

 between the skin and the meat was 

 found almost a full third of a charge of 

 shot. Over a hundred pellets were 

 counted lying along the left side, from 

 haunch to shoulder. How on earth 

 that 'chuck ever lived after that hurt is 

 something astounding ! "Now," said 

 Uncle Peter, ' ' this fellow is fat as a 

 chunk of lard. We'll have him for 

 dinner to-day. Sal, you go down to 

 Billy's (his son), and tell him and 

 Nance (Bill's wife) to come up to dinner 

 to-day." Sal put a big sun bonnet on 

 her head, and was off in a jiffy. Uncle 

 Peter soon had the carcass dressed and 

 cleaned. It was carefully washed in 

 good strong brine from the pork barrel, 

 and then placed in the iron pan, which, 

 as soon as the brick oven was hot 

 enough, was to be placed within 

 it. Potatoes were placed around it. 

 At half past twelve dinner was served. 

 I forgot to state that the woodchuck 

 turned the scale at a little over twenty 

 pounds before it was made ready for 

 the pan. On the table it looked almost 

 like a whole lamb. It was browned to 

 a turn. Fat, well ! When that pan was 



