andtheshopmiglitgoto tlic— wfll. "Ihuk-s." Song, story 

 and jesl hcUl high carnival. Dull care was banislicd and 

 his woeful face ne\'er ])erniiUed U) enter the porlals ol the 

 old clul) house SI) long as we held ]>ossession. For one 

 week at least he was a stranger, a nielanclujly tramp, 

 jobless and with no abiding place on the sands of 

 Mononioy Island or the waters thereof. 



"Hello! there's branters," said a native of Cape 

 Cod, as we left the little mixed freight and ])assenger 

 train at Chatham, .Mass., on the morning of April 4th. 

 "There be nine (Mi "em," he said, counting our noses by 

 mental arithmetic : and he was right. There were nine 

 of u>, witli i;uns. woolen clothes. nililn.-r clothes, canxas 

 clothes, oil clothes, with leather boots, rul)l)er boots, 

 rubber hats, with crates of onions, boxes of loaded shells, 

 cases of canned goods, mysterious looking "stun jugs" 

 and "sich." 



Nine of us from Boston, Worcester, Ouincy, Dor- 

 chester, Florida and Philadeli)hia, all drawn together by 

 the Freemasonry of sport, and the shilil)oleth was 

 "Brant." The day l)efore I left riiiladelphia I told a 

 prominent Market Street merchant that 1 was ;-;oing 

 shooting for a short time, lie asked what I was going 

 to shoot at this time o' year, ' ' Ihant, " I replied. 



"Well,"' he said, "when I was a boy I used to shoot 

 squirrels with a rifle, and got so that I could shoot them 

 back of the head every time."' ' I low far back he didn"t 

 say.) 



"Well," I answeretl, 'brant are nuich harder to 

 shoot than sipiirrels, for they run faster than ral)bils 

 and are nuich bigger." "Well, I declare," he said, 



8v 



