300 WALL STREET AND THE WILDS 



People who don't know these grounds mighty 

 well are pretty sure to get lost in them." 



"Strange how little sense of direction some 

 folks have," I replied. "Just to think of any- 

 body getting lost in a place like this." 



The duck shooting of that day was the best, 

 or from my conservationist standpoint of to-day, 

 the worst, I had had for ten years. The story of 

 the other occasion may be worth the telling. 



I started from New York with a friend, bound 

 for Good Ground, via the Long Island Railroad, 

 and a day of wild-fowl shooting. Breech-load- 

 ing shot guns were novelties then and I carried 

 a No. 10 pin-fire made by Jeffries of London, a 

 weapon which later burst in my hands. I re- 

 member that I loaded my cartridges with four 

 and one-half drams of powder and one and three 

 quarter ounces of shot, proportions that seem 

 queer to-day. 



We crossed the East River late in the day, 

 with half an hour to spare for our train accord- 

 ing to the published schedule. But the railroad 



