THE 



AMERICAN SPORTSMAN'S JOURNAL. 



Terms, Four Dollars a Year. I 



NEW YORK THURSDAY, OCTOBER 31, 1878. 



For Forest and Stream and Rod and Gfun. 

 HUNTER'S SONG. 



FR05I TOTS GERMAN. 



TN forest wild I shoot the stag, 

 -*- Or roebuck bounding free ; 



Ilia caRle on ttie mountain crag, 



Tlie wiki fowl on the sea. 

 Willi certain aim 1 kill my game. 



When I witti ride rove ; 

 And yet my wild lioart once was tame, 



And felt the power of Lore. 



And oft I camp in winter drear, 



Ry night and storm, alone, 

 And lay my head without a f car, 



Upon the snow-elad stone. 

 A thorny bed I never dread, 



Though winds blow cold above ; 

 And yet this heart, so still and dead, 



Has felt the power of Love. 



The wild hawk is my sentinel, 



The wolf still guards my bounds ; 

 The night I pass with shout and yell, 



The day midst barking hounds. 

 For feather rare 1 never wear 



A flr-twig from the grove ; 

 Yet once I had a lady fair 



And felt the power of Love. 



For Forest and Stream and Rod and Gun. 



gtmmet ^jdgil in firginti. 



■2S 



THERE were three of us. 

 Douglas, editor, of Wastengton Capital j Uol. Edmund 

 Burke, lessee of St. Blare's Hotel, ot same place, and myself. 

 Three good fellows, our friends would remark. A most un- 

 holy trinity, our enemies would say; but, as the former are 

 much in the majority, it don't matter much what the minority 

 '.'links, for minorities are always wrong. 



Well, these two were first rate traveling company, any- 

 way— bon comrades that could appreciate a good joke, enjoy 

 a good julep as well as even honest old Jack Fallstaff did his 

 sack, both line reconteurs, barring a slight tendency to ex- 

 aggerate and to draw the long-bow uncomfortably strong; still, 

 these were but slight drawbacks to men who had been in the 

 army in the late unpleasantness, and who were used to hear 

 the old veterans of both sides spin out their stories of how 

 they fought, died and bled for their country. Ah me ! how 

 like the memory oi a glorious dream did those old battle-fields 

 we revisited seem, with the peaceful landscape bathed in the 

 mellow summer light, the chirping of the birds, and the cattle 

 idly browsing on the hill-side or lazily reclining under the 

 shade of the trees chewing the cud of sweet and not bitter 

 fancies. Yes, all different from that old Spottsylvania hill 

 where we stood some fourteen years ago, with the thunder of 

 the guns making the solid earth tremble, while the purple- 

 blue smoke curled even as high as the tree-tops, 1 tiding every- 

 thing from view but the flash of the cannon, that drowned in 

 their roar the volleying dischargesof the musketry. It was with 

 a feeling of minded sadness ami pleasure that we revisited the 

 historic fields of Spottsylvania; sadness, as we thought of the 

 rain of blood that had poured from thousands of bodies, crim- 

 soning the very ground we stood upon ; and gladness, that we 

 could walk undisturbed now without hearing the spiteful 

 wuiz of the rninnie or being made to strike a bee-line for 

 cover as the screaming shell hurtled over our heads. A coun- 

 tryman was plowing iu the field, and we followed the furrow 

 looking for relics. Edmund, always lucky in hunting, whether 

 for cariosities or for somebody to indorse his note, found two 

 bullets amalgamated in one, that the plow-share had turned 

 out. Upon examining them we found that they had been 

 fired exactly at the same time from opposite points, and, 

 meeting midway in their rapid flight, had collided and been 

 welded into one mass, and had thus neutralized each other's 

 deadly mission. Looking on these little momentoes of a 

 stormy period, what thoughts arise in our minds : the boy in 

 blue and the boy in gray pulling with vengeful hands the 

 trigger, their faces blackened with powder, mad with thirst, 

 savage with fury, they ram home the charge with hasty mo- 

 tions, and then fire at random, sighting only by the flash of 

 each other's guns ; and in this hell of shot and shell, these two 

 little pieces of lead in the fiery rain of bullets, ignoring their 

 billets, met and harmonized, and then dropped peacefully iu 

 a common bed. 



The next point in our jaunt was Old Point Comfort, a 

 watering-place iu Hampton Roads, eight miles from Norfolk. 

 Wejjeaohed it while in full blast of fashionable pleasure, and 

 fouiid some six hundred guests at the Hygeia Hotel, presided 



over by General Lyndsay Walker, who used to command the 

 artillery of Lee's army. A splendid type of manhood is the 

 General, who on another field adds fresh laurels to his record. 

 Old Point is a good place for the "gcrman" and for doing the 

 Claude Melnotfe business au clatre dela lune, but a poor resort 

 for the sportsman; the fishing is hardly worth the name, 

 and one crabbing is sufficient to last a man for his lifetime. I 

 hate crabs worse than snakes ; there is nothing straightfor- 

 ward about them, they even walk backward, they are as 

 greedy as a shark, and are the buzzards of the deep ; nothing 

 comes amiss to their claws, and when they are hard pushed 

 for food they make no bones about eating each other. I saw 

 the body of a drowned man which was discovered near the 

 Rip Raps, and his face was literally destroyed by crabs. It 

 was a horrible sight, it made me sick, and I haven't eaten a 

 ^deviled crab since. 



^ I was much interested in a catamaran which had been con- 

 structed by the officers of the garrison. Of course you know 

 what a catamaran is — two long canoes about ten feet apart, 

 connected together by a light framework, on which is rigged 

 an enormous sail as spacious as a schooner's. Thi3 nonde- 

 script catamaran craft is a success as far as speed is concerned: 

 in a brisk breeze, when its enormous sail is buoyed out with 

 the wind, it flies like a sea-mew alongthe waves, passing brigs, 

 corvettes, sloops and all other sailing vessels with the utmost 

 ease. It don't seem to cut through the water, but to glide 

 and skip along the crest of the waves as gracefully as a sea- 

 gull. 



In the winter Hampton Roads is a great resort for wild- 

 fowl ; they are here in uncounted numbers, but nobody shoots 

 them. They have a fishy taste, which prevents them from 

 being palatable eating. Speaking on this subject, the finest 

 duck ground I know of in this section, except Albemarle 

 Sound, is Hog Island, about a day's journey from Old Point. 

 It is a light-house station, some twelve miles off the coast 

 from Cobb's Island, and inhabited by wreckers, a rough, un- 

 couth set of people, but hospitable and as honest as the peas- 

 antry of Ireland, whose latch, according to the old song, 

 hangs on the outside of the door. There is the finest brant 

 shooting in the world in November and December, and any 

 of your sporting readers can have royal sport by roughing it 

 with the wreckers. If any ouc is musically inclined and 

 can play the fiddle then the 1 log Islanders will take him 

 in their heart of hearts and go blind on him. I well 

 remember a trip our trinity took there some three winters 

 ago. We went on a Christmas frolic, left Old Point for Cherry- 

 stone by the steamer iV'. P. Bunks, then we hired an old ox 

 team to carry our traps across the mainland some eight miles 

 away, next took a sail-boat to the Island. We were fully heeled 

 for the expedition i Diuglas was steward of the cigars, I had 

 my fiddle, while Edmund was custodian of the whists y keg 

 —or kaig, as the natives call it. All hands were satisfied with 

 these distributions of stores. It was a rough siil. A stiff 

 breeze was blowing, and we had some sixteen miles to go. 

 The white capped waves seemed lo rise to an alarming height, 

 and would strike with fearful force against the prow, sending 

 the salt spray flying in the air and nearly blinding us. It was a 

 novel, ludicrous picture, one that Felix O. C. Darley would 

 have liked to have limned, but a confoundedly uncomfortable 

 one for us, the boat rising high and falling low, bowing as 

 politely and pi ofouudly to some advancing wave as an office- 

 seeker bows to the Secretary, and then, jumping suddenly 

 aloof on the crest, would look down in disdain, as it were, 

 upon the waters below with its nose high i u the air. Yes, it was 

 a picture to smile at afterward— the griui mariner sitting in the 

 stein with the tiller in his hand, his body clad in waterproof 

 canvas, an oil skin hat on his head beneath which appeared 

 his rough, weather-beaten face, covered with a ragged red 

 beared, upon which the spray-drops glistened like diamonds. 

 He had a pipe in his mouth, Of that curtailed proportion that 

 every son of green Erin is so partial to, and this pipe seemed 

 a t&agic one, for 1 never yet saw it go out. Our old mariner, 

 unlike the ancient one, never fastened anybody with his 

 glittering eye nor bored them With his dreadful tale. Mo, our 

 mariner never opened his mouth except toask fora nip, ormut- 

 ter an oath against the wind. I sat next to him with my be- 

 loved fiddle close to my heart. Douglas Equalled close down 

 in the bottom of the boat, silting on his valuable cargo of 

 cigars; wbileEdniund braced himself on a seat with the keg on 

 his lap, holding it as fondly as ever mother her child. The- 

 wind whistled and sang through the boat, getting higher 

 every moment; the spray came now in one continual shower- 

 bath that wetted us to the skin. It soon became no laughing 

 matter, for the darkness came on, and the heavens above were 

 shrouded in a murky gloom, unrelieved by a single star ; the 

 waves could only be seen by their white caps, that seemed as 

 if they would engulf us every instant, and we all thought 

 our last moment: had come. I earnestly besought Douglas to 

 throw his pack of cards overboard, which he did. At 

 this trying moment the lamp in the light-house was lit, and 

 its rays cast a golden gleam over the angry waters ; it brought 

 color to our cheeks and hope to our hearts, and as 

 in gleamed amid the darkness we knew v, 

 In a few moments we were at the wharf, and in an hour each 

 one dreaming over his hardships. 



The uext night, being Christmas Eve, there was a grand fash- 

 ionable ball, where alltheeKte, beauty and style of Hog Island 

 attended. Every gentleman was in full dress, which consisted 

 of soaped locks, pea-jacket, pants outside of the boots, and 

 the boOt3 greased with shark oil until they shone again. The 



ladies' costumes were short calico and homespun, with brilliant 

 pinch-beck ornaments. Everybody had washed their face and 

 combed their hair for the occasion, and it was a very respect- 

 able assemblage indeed. The festivities soon commenced by 

 two musicians opening the ball. They sawed persistently on 

 their ninety-nine-cent pine fiddles, and raised the tune, and 

 all pitched in. Everybody danced to suit themselves : there 

 were no partners nor figures, but each tried his own step in 

 his own way. The cabin rocked and trembled from roof to 

 foundation-stone ; but still the fiddles' strains rose above the 

 uproar, and the steps kept lime in a rythmical rhyme to the 

 music. In an evil hour Edmund had his keg brought to the 

 room and opened. The consequence was that the fiddles got 

 too high and above their business to play any longer, so they 

 dispersed somewhere. Seeing the position of affairs, I com- 

 menced to draw the bow, and away went the company again. 

 I tried some weak-kneed people there that night ; if there 

 isn't any crippled Hog Islanders it isn't because I did not try 

 to make them so. I let out the fastest of all known tunes on 

 them— the " Devil's Dream " — and I thought that the plaster- 

 ing was coming down. The natives spread themselves, and dis- 

 counted the Jardins Mabilians. Then Colonel Burke became 

 ambitious. He must hive a waltz. I played one of Strauss' ; 

 but who was he to revolve with ? That dizzy dance had 

 never yet reached the fashionable Hog Islanders— and even the 

 ambitious maidens would not attempt it ; but at last one more 

 determined than her sisters, and carried away by Edmund's 

 importunities, asked him to let her see the step, and so lie 

 gyrated alone over the floor to the tune of the deux temp I 

 was playing. Then hurrying back he claimed her tor the 

 dance, saying that he could easily teach her ; but the fair one 

 was dubious, and at last to Edmund's entreaties replied, 

 " Well, stranger, I can't ; I can go the front step and go the 

 back step, but it will make me puke sure to turn around 

 so." Edmund was a changed man after that reply. He 

 gathered up his keg and beat out to his quarters. 



But about the hunting at Hog Island. The brant com- 

 mence to arrive in November, and by December they are in 

 great numbers and are shot from a blind. I would not advise 

 any but well-equipped parties, with their own decoys and 

 boats, to go to Hog Island. Single parties might not be able 

 to get stands, except at a great pries, for there are many pro- 

 fessional gunners shooting here all the winter. Besides the 

 brant there arc the shufflers and redhead, and Wild geese in 

 immense flocks, but they are too shy to get within range of 

 the breech-loader of average calibre. 1 had much sport in 

 shooting into the flocks with a Winchester rifle, and it was 

 splendid fun to pitch a ball into a flock a half a mile away 

 and knock over some old gray gander. The ones I killed I 

 never could eat, for my bullet always seemed to pick out the 

 patriarch of the gang, who, judging by his meat, was a hun- 

 dred and twsnty-tive years old. I would as soon dine off 

 stewed and boiled india-rubber trab-balls as a tough oldroasted 

 wild goose. 



In a rough, windy, cold, cr rainy day Hog Island is the 

 most desolate spot on earth ; but on a bright, still, sunny day- 

 there lingers over it a kind of haze that half conceals the 

 woods and barren wastes^and that makes the place look full 

 of a strange, weird, dreamy beauty : the long breakers, curv- 

 ing softly in and breaking in a musical murmur on the beach ; 

 the lofty light-house, rising gracefully upward, cutting its pro- 

 file clear against the blue horizon ; the stately ships, far off on 

 the ocean, make a scene like the veritable land of the lotus 

 eaters. 



I would write more on this place, but 1 gave a full 

 description of it some two years ago in the FoBBsa and 

 Stream. I can onlyadd that if parties desiring information as 

 to getting l here, and other items, will write to Warren Cobb, 

 Cobb's Island, Va., he will answer all their queries and meet 

 them in his boat. I can indorse Warren as being a first-rate 

 guide and thoroughly reliable. 



After leaving Old Point we visited Norwalfe, and theu pro- 

 ceeded to take a jauut though the Great Dismal Swamp, As 

 1 have already written up the "Great Dismal " for the Pobest 

 and S't'KEAJi in a prior number, I will not tell the same old 

 story, only saying that Col. Burke lost some twenty pounds of 

 flesh from the mosquitoes, who bled him and feasted on hitn 

 by turu. Douglas, being a newspaper man, escaped the mos- 

 quitoes : they let him alone after blunting their teeth. As 

 for myself, if ever I go into the Dismal Swamp again in the 

 middle of summer, I hope some Circe will change me into a big 

 bull-frog, and make me croak a century, for those mosquitoes 

 ucarly picked my bouts. 



After leaving the Swamp, we speut several days in Suffolk, 

 about twelve miles away, and from there we went to Captain 

 Wm, Blows, iu Sussex County, for deer hunting. 



It would simply be a task of supererogation to speak of our 

 stay in the Notta way Region. That section, also, has been 

 written up by me for tills paper. We went deer hunting, as I 

 said before, and had much hunting but little deer. The 

 Captain placed us all three on a staud, and went with his 

 hounds to drive the deer. We stood up en garde tho first half 

 hour, with our guns cocked, and on the qui vive for the 

 slightelt sound, but there was only an utter, perfect stillness. 

 The next half hour we sat down, with our guns lying 

 in our laps, gazing with strained expectancy into the depths 

 of the shadowy forest, but: nothing could be sei 

 an industrious woodpecker thursting his long bill into every 

 hollow he found. At the next hour we all got tired, and Col. 

 Burke, pulling an old greasy deck of cards out of his pocket, 



