256 MISCELLANEOUS. 



quails at one shot, with a neighbor's old single-barreled shot 

 gun. It was in the winter. I tracked them some distance 

 on the snow, and just at dusk found them huddled in a bunch 

 under an old log that laid up some distance from the ground. 

 They were bunched so closely that I could have covered 

 them with my hat, and a good aim at about twenty yards left 

 but a small chance for the poor little fellows. Only two of 

 them escaped. I should blush to do so mean a thing now, 

 but it was different then. I knew no better. I had not then 

 been educated in the ethics of the field, and thought I had 

 made a wonderful shot. I boasted of it for weeks and 

 months afterward. I presume that many of my brother 

 sportsmen of to-day have made such shots when they were 

 boys. Probably they would not like to confess it now, but I 

 don't know that I feel ashamed of it. I mention it to show 

 the advancement that we have made through the influence of 

 the wholesome teaching that we get from such sources as the 

 American Field. There are hundreds of young clodhoppers 

 to-day, such as I was then, that do such potting every chance 

 they get, and don't know there is any harm in it. But I 

 have digressed from my subject. 



Here, on the opposite side of the hill is where the old 

 sugar camp used to be ; but all those old maples from which 

 used to flow such generous quantities of the rich saccharine 

 fluid, have long ago been cut down, and the land whereon 

 they stood is now a green field. I look in vain for a trace of 

 the old furnace, and the cabin that stood in front of it, but 

 not a vestige of either remain. But I see a plowman not far 

 away; I will ask him. Yes, he points out a small pile of 

 stones near the middle of the field, which he says marks the 

 place where the furnace stood. 



"We tore it down when we cleared this piece," he said. 



I approached the spot he indicated, and found a few 



