Racoon-Hunting, 6^ 



naturalist's journal the following description is given, in 

 spired by the writer's own peculiar enthusiasm. The 

 cabin is made comfortable by a huge pile of logs laid 

 across the fire; the sweet potatoes are roasted in the 

 ashes; and when all is ready the hunters begin their 

 work. 



" The hunter has taken an axe from the wood pile, 

 and returning, assures us that the night is clear, and that 

 we shall have rare sport. He blows through his rifle, to 

 ascertain that it is clear, examines his flint, and thrusts a 

 feather into the touchhole. To a leathern bag swung at 

 his side is attached a powder-horn ; his sheathed knife is 

 there also ; below hangs a narrow strip of homespun 

 linen. He takes from his bag a bullet, pulls with his 

 teeth the wooden stopper from his powder-horn, lays the 

 ball on one hand, and with the other pours the powder 

 upon it, until it is just overtopped. Raising, the horn to 

 his mouth, he again closes it with the stopper, and re- 

 stores it to its place. He introduces the powder into the 

 tube, springs the box of his gun, greases the * patch ' over 

 some melted tallow, or damps it, then places it on the 

 honeycombed muzzle of his piece. The bullet is placed 

 on the patch over the bore, and pressed with the handle 

 of the knife, which now trims the edges of the linen. 

 The elastic hickory rod, held with both hands, smoothly 

 pushes the ball to its bed; once, twice, thrice has it re- 

 bounded. The rifle leaps as it were into the hunter's 

 arms, the feather is drawn from the touchhole, the powder 

 fills the pan, which is closed. * Now I am ready,' cries 

 the woodsman. A servant lights a torch, and off we 

 march to the woods. * Follow me close, for the ground 

 is covered with logs, and the grape-vines hang every- 

 where across. Toby, hold up the light, man, or we'll 

 never see the gullies. Trail your gun, sir, as General 

 Clark used to say — not so, but this way — that's it. Now 



