AMERICAN 



JOURNAL, 



Term,, Four Dollar* a Year. 

 Ten Centa a Copy. 



NEW YORK, THURSDAY, JANUARY 16, 1879 



1 Volume 11— No. S*. 

 INo. Ill KnltonSL.N. Y- 



For Forest and Stream and Rod ami Gun 

 THE FLORIDA COAST. 



Bt Isaac McLbilik. 

 Wild the gale Its majestic trumpet blows, 

 Wild the night with intenser darkness grows, 



As the sailing Ashing fleet 

 Struggles ou, staggers blindly thro' the gloom, 

 With no light, save the lightnings to tlinme, 

 To warn them where the tumbling billows boom- 

 Where the eddying whirlpools beat ! 



But the perils of the sea, 'scop'd at last, 



With the reef'd and ragged canvas on the maat, 



Behold the little vessels tailing fast 



By the headlands of the shore. 

 T.lke a floe-fc of white-wing'd fowl, see they come, 

 Lilce the sea-birds to their nests winging home, 

 When the tempests out at sea lash the foam, 



And the ruffian surges pour. 



When they anchor by those shores so serene, 

 What a fair, what a soft, delicious scene ! 

 What rosy hues, what tints of living green, 



Beam on the ftslier's view I 

 Not a ripple, not a dimple crisps the deep ; 

 So pelluold that the coral groves that sleep 

 Far below are disclos'd la all their sweep, 



Gay with every lovely hue ! 



Far along the curving shores gleams the sand ; 

 High aloft the branching evergreens expand, 

 And the orange and the lemon o'er the land, 



Wave their globes of spangled gold. 

 Mice emeralds shine the grasses and the leaves, 

 The grape, its fruit and foliage interweaves, 

 And the rustling corn, with its sheaves, 



la In ruddy bloom unroll'd. 



White and pure shines the cotton o'er the plain, 

 As if snows, and the sleety, icy rain, 

 Their flaky storm had shower'd down amain 



From winter's frosty urn. 

 Soft, soft the odorous land breeze seaward blows, 

 Delicious with magnolia and the rose, 

 And the spicy air is sweet as it flows, 



Where Bowers their incense burn! 



For Forest and Stream and Rod and Chin. 



summer 



Jrqadm. 



X — 



AS the Eastward bound travoler on the Chesapeake and 

 Ohio Railroad steps out of the train at Kanawha Falls 

 he flndB himself, like the famous ass, hesitating between two 

 prizes — for the tocsin sounds for dinner, the conductor calls 

 the number of minutes allowed, and the odor of fragrant 

 viands is wafted from the adjacent hotel; but the eye wanders 

 from the cozy-looking inn to the beautiful landscape which 

 surrounds it, and at one glance takes in a picture framed in 

 blue sky and towering peaks— a clear blue lake at the conflu- 

 ence of New River and the Ganlcy, and a varied cascade 

 tumbling over great boulders and then spreading out over a 

 field of shingles in ten thousand little jets of frosty foam. To 

 the eastward the sharp peak, that rises abruptly, is crowned 

 by the old Indian Fort Defiance, along the face of the 

 Southern Mountain winds the road made by General 

 Washington, and just beyond the yard of the hotel is the log 

 cabin occupied by Col. Rutherford B. Hayes, of the Twenty- 

 third Ohio in 1861, when a saucy rebel gun, almost overhead, 

 pointed by the ex-Secretary of War, General Floyd, often 

 caused the prospective President to trespass with a violent ex- 

 pletive on that staid and pious bearing which at present makes 

 such a contrast to the cigar of his predecessor. Above this 

 charming glen the train toils up a deep narrow canyon, 

 through which the New River comes plunging down over im- 

 mense masses of rocks, piled as if to commemorate the battle 

 of the fabled Titans, that with earthquake and thunder moved 

 earth and heaven in their giant strifes. On the left hand Jef- 

 ferson's Pillar arises fifteen hundredfeet, a gray, jagged tower 

 of rock, jutting out from the thick masses of green and dis- 

 playing from its scarred battlement, like tattered banners, the 

 storm-torn cedars, which the unyielding spirit ot the wild 

 seems to hold there in defiance of nature and man. A few 

 miles above here Big Sewall advances two immense cliffs like 

 gray, grim sentinels rearing their crests to the very sky, 

 while opposite the deep wooded mountain rises to an equal 



height, and far below the solemn roll of the river gives the 

 effect of awe and sublimity, the deep, reverberating monotone 

 proclaiming the ever-rushing flow of time on and on to the 

 sea of eternity. 



The face of nature changes abruptly as the train leaves the 

 New River and courses directly eastward up the valley of the 

 Greenbrier. It is a panorama of sweet, homelike pictures— 

 the white farm-houses set in green meadows and clumps of 

 orchard trees, and the cow-bells faintly heard along the nar- 

 row valleys, making the refrain of that picturesque, quiet and 

 happy bucolic life which is nearest to nature and to God. At 

 Fort Spring Station we behold what in midsummer to the eye 

 of the sentimental rambler is the synonym of all delights— a 

 coach and four— representing the old-time pleasures of the 

 road, as Cinderella's chariot typifies the enchantments of 

 fairyland ; yea, verily, it is the fairy vehicle to take us through 

 the ideal olden time, for hath not the learned Dr. Johnson de- 

 clared that perfect, happiness sits on the box beside the coach- 

 man and travels at ten miles an hour behind four spanking 

 bays ? Therefore, hail to thee, Jehu of the old stage road ! 

 let thy whip be the enchanter's wand and thy four steeds like 

 the flying coursers of Phteton, spurning the very clouds with 

 their glowing hoofs and mounting the steeps of Olympus ; 

 and we will alight presently from the giddy throne of fancy 

 and temper the icy draughtfrom yonder crystal fountain with 

 the stronger liquid which, in the dialect of Virginia, is yclept 

 " Buragarduer. " 



This road from Fort Spring to Union is the ideal turnpike, 

 running along the side of a spur range of the Allegheny, 

 from which we view an enchanting landscape as from the bal- 

 cony of a grand natural theatre. The luxuriant meadows ex- 

 tend mile after mile, each farm set with parks of sugar- 

 maple, buckeye and cucumber trees, and the rich green turf 

 giving an effect of extreme luxuriance. The atmosphere is 

 wonderfully exhilarating, even at noontide, imparting the 

 sparkle of champagne, and not less delightful to the sight 

 than to the lungs, for it is a dreamy and magic lens, through 

 which we behold a beautiful Arcadia— fanciful, yet real, giv- 

 ing body and form to Campbell's magnificent rhapsody and 

 exhaling the delicious incense of nature. He who enjoys 

 this sight in the first blush of the morning, though his way- 

 worn soul be racked with remorse and his future clouded 

 with the dark shadow of a creditor, will say " Fade retro" 

 to both, as his disenthralled spirit drinks the delight of na- 

 ture's virgin beauty. Aurora, with rosy-tipped fingers, pulls 

 back the curtain of mist, and unfolding yet finer, the night's 

 dark uncertainty retaining the charm of its mystery, all the 

 glorious view comes forth ; and as the chorus of feathered 

 songsters perform their beautiful pastorals, wrapped in a Sab- 

 bath-like purity, peak on peak the mountains rise and descend 

 and rise again, until the blue on the horizon blends iuto 

 heaven, and the rose-tinted clouds form into dome and spire, 

 battlement and turret, the airy city of our fancy where hope 

 leads us through dreamland. 



Tumbling down from our lofty flight, we hear in the dis- 

 tance the early Vulcan of the village playing his ringing re- 

 frain on the anvil with a ponderous hammer. 



THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH. 



Clank I clank ! clank I ringing and musical it resounds on 

 the morning air, and then you hear the double stroke of the 

 small hammer in cadence, and then a single keen spire, tinted 

 with gold, marks where the pretty town nestles in the valley, 

 cmoowered in trees and gardens. The blacksmith looks like 

 a grim ogre or a gnome in the glare of the forge, but when he 

 comes out of the shop with a red-hot horseshoe in his tongs, 

 he is a fair-haired giant, with laughing blue eyes and looking 

 like the mythical Vulcan, a proper husband for Venus. He 

 is one of the characters of the country, and upon occasion 

 can draw a tooth as well as he can shoe your horse. The 

 operation is performed by tieing the subject to the anvil, the 

 anvil to the forge, and a stout cord to the big sledge-hammer. 

 ne then swings the huge hammer thrice over his head, as 

 Thor, the soldier-blacksmith, is supposed to have done, and 

 launches it into the street, having first attached the other end 

 of the cord to the subject's tooth. The result is certain ; for, 

 either the hammer has to stop, which it can no more do than 

 the shot fiotn Columbiad, or the tooth must come, unless the 

 whole forge and shop give way, which is impossible. 

 The blacksmith is so proud of this branch of his 

 profession that he has marked in big charcoal letters over 

 his shop door, " Tuthe ake kured in hear." And never was a 

 sign more indicative of success in any line of business, for the 

 man in that country who has the malady is told by every- 

 body else what to do, and if he declines the vlolenl 

 he is pronounced a coward, and if he tries it he is not likely 

 to confess to any more "tuthe ake. " Tor some time. 



he handsomest man and most talented lawyer in West 

 Virginia is Gun Patton, who has a beautiful mansion in this 

 town of Onion, and is the only man in the State who can 

 have a preacher staying at his house and stay away froni 

 church, which he properly considers a moral institution con- 

 ducive to virtue and, therefore, opposed to law in the pro- 

 fessional sense of the term. And certain it is that the pure 

 air and natural beauty of the country with the simpler and 

 more devout sort of worship have set the imprimatur of 

 primitive honesty on a people who are tho worthy descendants 

 of the bold pioneers of the last century. The vague legend of 

 a single crime falls on the incredulous ear of the stranger, 

 and in the midst of this serene and peaceful land of plenty 



and content we are prepared to believe even that Gim Bhank- 

 lio, the post-master, dosen't read the postal cards. 



WALrONIAN. 



Twenty miles south of Union on the main [height of the 

 Alleghany range is the Mountain Lake, a beau iful basin of 

 blue limestone water, a mile or so in extent, a pretty cottage, 

 inn on the northern shore, and a jagged peak overhead, from 

 which you may behold tho territories of five States, the Black 

 Mountain of North Carolina, cutting the southern horizon, 

 and to the southeast the peaks of Otter, the two giant out- 

 posts of the Blue Ridge. In the ice cold depths of the lake 

 no fish can live, but the tavern keeper can furnish yon with a 

 mule that can climb, and all you have to do is to make a 

 trapeze journey " mule back," as the mountaineer calls it, to 

 Booth's Fall, five miles down the mountain gorge, and the re- 

 cluse of these wild solitudes, a scholar of sixty years standing 

 whom love and the world outlawed, will show you the deep 

 glen with the cascade descending like a sheet of molten silver 

 from a window in the roof of green foilage that canopies tho 

 narrow valley. As we stand on a ledge of rock the glassy 

 pool of water mirrors a single star at 'midday, and, looking 

 aloft to see where the fallen gem came from, behold, there it 

 is, set in a patch of emerald sky. A weird, unearthly light 

 dances along the walls of green and grey, and all the real 

 world is gone. Stand on the dangerous ledge behind the 

 sheet of water and the strange solitary spirit of the wild, 

 more satyr than man, gives you a gorgeous colored fly and a 

 line like the web of a spider. It dances down and down 

 through the glistening light and rising spray into the frosty 

 mass of foam, and then a sudden quiver on your rod and arm 

 and a scintillating thing like a gleam of lightning leaps and 

 capers at the end. It is only after the contest is over that the 

 strauge, wild excitement of the sport and the scene leaves you 

 cooler enough to examine the prize, a speckled trout eighteen 

 inches long. Let the wild man beside you bestow him in the 

 creel and cast again with the same result; no waiting 

 for a rise, the only thing is y ou may slip from 

 your dangerous perch, from this unreal world into 

 still another, for temptation in sport, as in vice, waits like a 

 fisher of men. Some Waltonians say they are wearied at 

 times by the monotony of success, but when you fish in this 

 weird, fascinating elf-land it is the high tension on the mind 

 and nerves, caused by the strange unreality, that leaves you 

 longing to continue, "but unable to stand up. The strange 

 recluse of the valley helps you down and leads you aloui; the 

 ledges of rock, a tortuous path, and there leaves you sly 

 on the mountain side alone in the glare of the sunlight with 

 a creel full of trout in your hand to attest the reality of what 

 seems a dream. 



The old stage road takes the traveler from the mountain 

 lake around a circuit of curious and interesting scenes. You 

 may behold a giant oak, on which some faint scars represent 

 the inscription cut by Daniel Boone: " Here Daniel Boone 

 killed a bar." 



The sweet springs in Monroe County, and a little further on 

 Old Crow's tavern are notable stopping places. At the latter 

 Daniel Webster, Clay, Calhouo, and many other great states- 

 men of their time have sat under the trees of a summer's 

 day, and marked the half hours by juleps brewed by Old 

 Crow, the last of the typical innkeepers, and the biggest liar in 

 all Virginia, politicians not excepted. His epitaph, cut in the 

 wiiite bark of a big sycamore which shadows the spring, runs 

 thus : 



" Old Crow is dead, that good old soul. 



bowl. 



true. 



tight, 

 ik most. 



\\ ho to.k ins gioi 



11 s la. . 



But his hand was s 



He drank ali day ai 



And once on a ti mi 



Awl wheu tho devi 



He played him a gi 



Though the liquor uunieu wmi a uery roar, 



Crow drank mid drank, and called fur more, 



Till the devil sw ure h<; had caught .1 monk, 



And staggered hack into hell Head drunk, 



While Crow skipped a.ofi like a minuting star, 



And asxed St. Peter to show him the bar." 



The sentimental Waltonian may lounge away his holiday 

 along here with delight, and six miles further on, at Dry Creek, 

 is another pleasant tavern of the same sort, but more modern 

 and very comfortable — honeysuckles at every window, and 

 the cottage-house surrounded with pretty yard and flower- 

 garden. A mile westward is the White Sulphur, from which 

 you may hear the terpsichoreau revels of fashion, and a mile 

 eastward is "Beauregard," the beautiful estate of Mr, Geo. 

 Grant Petcrkin, now occupied by Mr. MfteNeil. Bol tl 

 accomplished gentlemen are Englishmen of means mdhigh 

 social rank, and their estate is one of the most Deis Utiful in 

 this State. The mansion is surrounded by an extensive park 

 of maguificent trees— oak, maple and buckeye— and overlooks 

 a rich' valley, through which meanders a clear stream, spanned 

 here and there with rustic bridges. And in the middle of a 

 velvety meadow is a spring of mineral water, that sends 

 bubbling from a bed of white sand a fountain copious enough 

 to turn a dozen mill-wheels. 



The sweetest dreams of Arcadian happiness must be broken 

 by the dull morning of reality, and as we sat at the table and 

 drank good red wine of France, amid good cheer and good 

 company, the shrill car-whistle gave the dreadful reveiUe that 

 broko the charm and took us back to the American capital, 

 where not even a Congressional scandal delighted the ear of 

 gossip, and helped along the stilling heat. P. Mod. 



