204 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Apkii. 14, 18811 



preparations for dinner, is quite a noteworthy event of the 



day. It is a substantial brace, and lets the high liver down 

 by easy Stages to the plainer and healthier diet of his lodge in 

 the wilderness. 



On again, the horses, brisker than ever after their hour's 

 halt, until at early evening we reach our resting-place tor the 

 night, as pleasant a lodging as ever described by Izaak Wal- 

 ton. If a mechanic or master builder would not admire its 

 proportions it would certainly meet with the approval of an 

 artist. Everything about the exterior of the building pre- 

 sented an air of dilapidation and extreme old age. The moss 

 grew thick among the shingles that covered it The old- 

 fashioned chimney, with its smoke blackened tup, had a dan- 

 gerous slope from the. perpendicular. The old logs had com- 

 menced to settle, and gave the entire structure a disjointed 

 and irregular appearance. Within doors, however, every- 

 thing is perfect, from the great fire-place, with its immense 

 capacity for consuming hack logs, to its well polished door 

 and grotesque corners and closets. 



We are expected and welcomed with the frank hospitality 

 of a backwoodsman, who knows his friends and displays none 

 of the magnificent inditferencc that strangers sometimes en- 

 counter from men of his calling. 



A c'natlyevening follows, during which wo pack our camp 

 kit, for hero we leave our horses and swell clothes, and early 

 in the morning, with our guides leading "for'ard to the 

 nor'ard," we foot it away into the woods beyond the hist set- 

 tlement and clearing, bejond the sound and sight of every- 

 thing that reminds one of business and enterprise to where 

 the primitive sanctity of nature still remains, where she 

 works her fairest marvels.and, untrammelled and uncultivated 

 asserts her sovereignty. 



Off the beaten track to some choice spot known only to a 

 few hardy trampevs, where quiet is the deity that presides 

 over its solemn fastnesses, is the place where we nnsling our 

 loads, rig our tackle and in earnest go a-flshing. 



Millard. 



New Hampshire Fish and Game League. — The annual 

 meeting of the I eague was held at Manchester, April o. tie 

 President, .Inc. B. Clark, in the chair. The Fish Coiwssion- 

 era reported favorably as to the progress of the work, which 

 now inrfudes also the care of the game. The League itself 

 is gh'ing its attention principally to the restocking of the 

 jVferrimack with shad and salmon. Addresses wen: made by 

 Rev. Henry Fowers on "The Future of New Hampshire ;" 

 Mr. Geo. P. Whitman, on the "North American Grouse," 

 and by Col. Waterman Ooleman on the introduction of the 

 migratory quail. The following officers were elected for the 

 ensuing year: President, John B. Clarke; Secretary, Charles 

 L. Kichardson ; Vice-Presidents, Marccllus Eldridgc, of 

 Portsmouth; Luther Hayes, of South Milton; E. B. Hodge, 

 of Plymouth: W. W. Fletcher, of Concord ; Edward Spauld- 

 ing, of Nashua; W. S. Sburlliffc, of Colehrook; John Cle- 

 ment, of Troy; W. M. Weed, of Sandwich ; M. A. llaynos, 

 or Lake Village; George P. Whitman, of Manchester. 



The New Hampshire League is composed of the solid, sub- 

 stantial portion of the commonwealth, and its meetings are 

 always characterized by a spirit of earnest and intelligent 

 discussion of game and fish protection viewed from its high- 

 est economic standpoint. We shall refer later to some of the 

 poirtsof Mr. Power's address. 



Tjie Right Word.— An esteemed Montreal correspondent; 

 Mr. R. H. Kilby, writes: •• I sometimes regret the term 

 "' sportsman " is so often made use of in connection with tish 

 and game protection, the won! has ntcrraeuiiy to cause thenou 

 sporting classes to feel that the effort to protect fish and game 

 arises only from a desire to preserve that which contributes 

 to the sportsman's amusement. Let us endeavor to impress 

 on the miuds of those who love neither Rod nor Gun what a 

 bountiful harvest of food our Forests and Streams will yield 

 if short sighted avarice and greed can be so far restrained as 

 to permit na'ure to work out her wonderful laws of repro- 

 duction." 



While endorsing fnlly the economic view taken by our 

 correspondent we cannot, share his regret that the term 

 "sportsman" is so frequently employed in this way. The 

 non-sporting public will find out in due time what an import- 

 tant work has been accomplished by the "sportsmen" of 

 the country, and as the value and importance of the "sports 

 men's" fish and game protective efforts are appreciated, itwill 

 be fitting that the "sptnWflSn" should receive the credit. 

 The connection between "sportsmen" and game protection 

 is also doing much to eradicate some of the popular miscou- 

 oeption which still clings to the title. 



, ^*»- 



America Has Rent to Attstram^ her salmon and her pin- 

 nated grouse, and in the first instance at least the gift has 

 proved a valuable one to the recipient. We learn that the 

 favor is now being returned, and that on [ho 1'aeilie roust 

 the experiment. Of itiiporfinggaine birds from Australia is be- 

 ing tried. A .Mr. Coates; rif San Francisco, has recently im- 

 ported several pairs of Australian pheasants, and has distrib- 

 uted their, among a number of gentlemen interested in the ac- 

 climatization of game. 



An interesting experiment has been tried by one gentle- 

 man, Lieutenant Kichmnn, of Mare Island, who is said to 

 have successfully crossed those presented to him with his 

 game fowls, and now has a number or the half breeds alive 

 and well.' 



It is proposed if the. Australian pheasants can be success- 

 fully propagated in California to turn a number of them out 

 to shift for themselves in the hope that a new bird may be 

 added to the game f : oina. of that Slate. 



The Massachusetts Fisu and G a me pKOXBpmx Associa- 

 tion has elected the following officeis for the ensuing year, 

 a selection which gives ample assurance of the continued 

 good work which has given the Massachusetts Association so 

 high a s'anding : President, John Pettier, Jr. : Vice-Presi- 

 dents, Hon Thomas Talbot, Hon. Daniel Needham, Walter 

 St. Brackctt, Esq ; Col. Henry Smith, Theodore Lyman, 

 Esq., Edward P. Brown,' Esq', H. T. Rockwell, Esq.; 

 Treasurer, James R. Reed ; Recording and Corresponding 

 Secretary, E. S. Tobey, Jr.; Librarian, E. M. Messinger ; 

 Executive Commitlco, hers \V. Adams, W. S. Hills, Arthur 

 K. Roheits, F. R. Sha'tuck, C. T. Jenkins: Committee on 

 Membership. L. Prouly, P. Tuekermau, J'.. Delano. 



The society is doing a good work in the face of much op- 

 position, and the determined manner in which its members 

 are striving for the perfection of the game laws indicates that 

 in time the laws of Massachusetts may be as efficient as those 

 of any other State. 



Fishers Exhibition Proposed. — The Berlin International 

 Exhibition last year and the nationfu' one held at Noi folk, 

 England, this month have aroused Che interest of the Scotch 

 Fisheries Improvement Association, and they talk of holding 

 an exhibition in Edinburgh next year. 



International HuntCQ and Sporting Exun.i i i 

 learn from 'the English Via!im$ 9a ette Men an i nil ■ n 

 as above will be L»=ld at Cleves, Rhenish Prussia, an 15 hour 

 journey from "London. The classification includes Sri 

 and ammunition from thcearliest to the present lime. Dresses 

 and accoutrements for hunters and anglers, fishing tackle, 

 hunting carriages, stabling, horns, hides, skins and articles 

 ujsde therefrom, stuffed animals, birds, etc. 



W& M&wtetKSn §£oumt 



GETTING LOST. 



Woecksti;k, Mass.. Qninaigamond Eyrie, March is. 



A N article in Forest and Stream of Feb. U, " What to 

 t\. Do When Lost," has called up into: i rernj 

 censes which, for what they are worth, go to show thai the 

 white man is not. only liable, but indeed has a natural tenden- 

 cy to get hopelessly lost when once he has passed beyond the 

 limit of recognized landmarks and is without compass of in I 

 guides as he may be familiar with in the realms of space. 



A pig and an Indian rarely get lost. An Indian may look 

 formoss on the tree trunks, may cast his eyes to the tree tops, 

 knowing that the higher brandies will always bend and take 

 a set from the prevailing winds; lint whether he ' 

 these signs or not is imm ' 

 veloped in the race IC 

 which he instantly and u 



I have been accostome 

 ed long years ago— to ski 

 of forests or upon plai 

 sweep a sea of grass for t 

 by tree or bush, rock, or 

 notouy. Rivers and moi 

 prairie, desert and wilde 

 messmates. From Mex 

 Eastport far to the westw 

 so much for the huntin 

 company, the fellowship, 

 mountains, and seas of y 

 game would lie sit ling, ai 

 but I am a great tramp a 

 from a tangle against an 

 a cat, a pig or an Indian. 



And yet I have been lost, many a til 

 cuinstances attended with great clanger — in the night durin; 

 snowstorms, on mountains and prairies, in flooded' pine land's 



aterial 



foi 



.viia 



: neces sityhavede- 

 ever that may be, by 

 relative localities. 



— which sea:. . , , 



n hand, in the depths 



lis wl 



etc 



atti 



nes the vision would 



niles u 



pon 



either hand unobstructed 



swell 



ij la 



, la 



nd t( 



) break the dead mo- 

 id stream, forest and 



rness 





bee 



i my bod-fellows and 



ico lo 



the 



inte 



rior of Canada, from 



aid 1 h 



ive 





,-d and fished, but not 



g and 

 of bin 



sar 





and rivers, 



rild gn 



diea 

 ml w> 



ch 

 lid 



let , 



shoot I'd rather my 

 with an angle worm; 

 n extricating myself 



ythiug 



livt 



ng e 



xcept a fox-hound or 



nd often under cir- 



that skirl, the Altamahaand in the f 



I will relate one or 

 companied by that pi 

 stray, a tendency atts 

 I wili try to show. 



Men and horses, w. 

 and distant enough, 



•st. 

 i:s, but only such as are ac- 

 inaccountable tendency to go as- 

 self to both horse and man, as 



':i:i 'I-'- points are out of sight 

 Ley tall to traveling hi circles. 

 ; rail - Farm in the town- 

 ilcssoD . if I 'i,:- igo. I located 

 ' it . tld a .thing intervened 

 : I even a trail. To the 

 jf nothing— saving perhaps the 

 hat under a swell and visi- 

 thrce miles away, 

 I that prairies 



but prairie, not a hut nor ' e 



south nothing — fifteen miles of nothing- 

 village of Jishkuui, and the r 

 hie only in mirage, 'i o |.bi 

 w;rs Milk's Grove of fifty aete.-,. and I 

 again for miles, and them VGrOlilllQn iV.\ 

 "To the north was a range of hills Itair. 

 tweeu were two pre-emptions— Bard's 

 other; and beyond the bills was (Cai 

 village of a few hundred snuU ten miles 



Three of us had been deer-hunting wit 



run a herd of six, a brace, and a lone hut 

 ished with our knives to aid the 

 match and were hardly equal to t 

 now nightfall, the sky was av< rci 

 and before we had the hiutlquartei 

 were mounted a fine snow was I'al 

 horses and with a swift gallop w 

 longer visible. Ten minutes of hard riding and we were lost 

 horses and men. Before dismounting we could see Kankakee 

 and knew we were exactly in line ror home. But where were 

 wc now? We should have crossed the hilts at the pace we 

 made, but we ha I missed then) We, could have discerned 

 the mclination, slight as it is, up to this time, but with a little 

 more obscurity all would be level way tons. "We halted 

 simul aneously and without, word or token. Each felt— some? 

 where in the i egion of the stomach— a disagreeable but un- 

 spoken sensation. J say stomach, for brains have nothing to 



j feet high, and be- 

 ard s deserti 3, and one 

 3 Kankakee City, then a 



g with greyhounds. Had 

 a: buck," which last we fin- 

 ings who had found their 

 icir undertaking. It was 

 it and rapidly thickening, 

 wrapped in the skiD and 

 ng. We put spurs to our 

 nt for the hills, now no 



do with a lost condiiion until they arc called to the rescue. 

 A' I ached to this condition is a s'u't. of siekeuing sensation 

 half- way above the belt— a feeling that with the. hardv usually 

 vents i sell' in a mocking smile,' to be dissipated as reason 

 goes about her taek. •• Where are we ! " "I don't know," 

 was answered by two voices, anil, in default of others, all 

 agreed to give the horses their heads and Iras', to them. 



On we went, walking our horses and never drawing rein. 

 One— two hours must have elapsed, and we had dismounted to 

 aid circulation, keeping by our horses withers that they might 

 not be influenced indirectly by us, when— Presto.' "" Hold 



up ! " says one. ' ; Here's that buck's carcass." 



It was now our turn. No more horse guides for us. We 

 wheeled half about to the right, mounted and set off. The 

 wise one— there is always a wise one in a party of three- 

 acted as guide while neither of the others for a moment dis- 

 agreed With his direction. Somewhere about midnight, the 

 snow still falling, but very fine and making on the ground, 

 rery slowly, we came abruptly against the side of a board 

 shanty, but it was too dark to examine it by sight, and the 

 guide dismounted and, running his hands along the eavejand 

 counting the openings, pronounced it Bard's pre-emptio.i. 



Now we certainly were right. It had taken us 

 hours to straighten out, but the trouble was all 

 over, and we were less than three miles from 

 home, and knew the points of the compass precisely. 

 Bard's shanty lay cast aud west from end to end, and I had 

 often at my front door seen the needle lie across Bard's roof 

 at right angles with the ridge. But how had we used up 

 five hours' time at a brisk walk, to say nothing of a ten 

 minutes' lope at a thoroughbred's pace, aud gained not more 

 than three miles? It was a puzzle, and as we jogged along 

 we talked it over and theorized upon the inclination of a 

 stray to travel in a circle. We were now moving due south 

 true There was no wind to aid us, "but had we 



backs t the pre-emption and never veered 

 to right Or leli i The way was long and the night was cold. 

 My uncle— the oraelecf the party— took out his watch, lifted 

 the crystal side of the case, and after a delicate manipula- 

 tion of the painters with his finger-tips and accurately lo- 

 cating the stem, ejaculated: "Four o'clock, by jimeuy! 

 : m mi's and not three miles yet. 1 don't understand It 

 but—" The horses all stopped short, like horses that know 

 meriting had crossed our track. The ani- 

 rttuli i idgeahiuch. It was darker than ever and 

 we could see nothing unless, forsooth, it was extra darkness. 

 The oracle dismounted, walked bump against some object. 

 me! wee, M-, | his 1 aids rattling ami sliding away froui 

 us. And now the sound was lost, but now again it emerged 

 from an opposite direction and my uncle said : " By jiineny 1 

 li ■ i.:o"l s tip. option." The door fell down and we shel- 

 ter) 111 i : i in Tiling. | 



1 had been with a pair of horses aud prairie wagon to 

 I 1 n 1 . ."en miles away. FtiiiK was the name, and 



, re there was none. Two or three thrift-forsaken, 

 lightning-riven, ghostly oaks that, being surrounded by wet 

 pans and dry sloughs, had for a few ages escaped the annual 

 n ' to mention some lately planted locusts, made up 

 the sum of the grove. I had been for limestone slabs. 

 Limestone crops out at Frink's. I was nearing home with 

 my load— was just one section away and one mile as the 

 hen fiies. In front of me was a slough of perhaps two acres, 

 It was not far round the pan, but not. so far across it, and 1 

 understood sloughs pretty well. Some of them are bottom- 

 less pits, but those almost invariably scud up near their 

 een i -, ■•; a few scattering black rushes. I could see nonehere. 

 To be sure it was past sunset, and what was « e- 

 drizzling rain had set in. Bnt I could see across ; I 

 Could even barely discern my house, like a shadow 

 in the gray of evening. I" drove in. The horses. 

 mired, and one that always played mo false lay flat 

 down in the mud. Five minutes sufficed lo unhitch and lead 

 rail oimand lo whip out the oilier, carry cross and whiirletrcrs 

 to rear, lock with a chain the horses to the hind axle, go to the 

 end of the pole in four feet of mud to steer— as with a, rudder 

 —and so ordered, to shout " Gil ! " But the horses couldn't 

 start it, and the next thing to do was to carry the stones, one 

 by one, to land and arranging for a start. This time 1 landed 

 high aud dry, but it was too late to reload and so I weui on 

 empty. 



I fed raining but was getting quite dark, andasthe 

 way- all the prairie, I mean— was smooth, I sang out in 

 Sucker parlance an emphatic "Git!" and admonished the 

 beasts with braided neat's hide. It got dark and grew darker, 

 and I drove on and drove ever, seemingly, hut no landmark 

 line I knew manifested itself to my only remaining si ■ . . 

 discernment— the sense of feeling— for all I could hope for 

 now was to jolt over somebody's breaking. I slopped to 

 take reckonings, for I was lost. A light suddenly Hashed out 

 over my larboard bow. There was no mistaking that signal 

 Mrs. p, had set a beacon light in the window. I knew she 



would, and I drove on ; but it seemed as if the d 1 carried 



the lamp, for I never reached it, and now it went out alto- 

 gether. A. little further on and I halted, took Out my seven- 

 dollar Waltham and dexterously lingeied out. eleven o'clock. 

 But Mrs, It. hadn't forgotten me for, turning round, I was 

 confronted by the glim again— right astern. " I must have 

 turned half round since I lost Ihc light. I followed on to 

 disappointment, for again my beacon disappeared but soon re- 

 appeared, though not just where I should have located it. 

 Again I pursued it. I seemed now to travel miles and at last 

 struck upon broken ground, very rough— in Ashkum, probably 

 —and 1 was full of anything but patience, for I guessed I was 

 seven miles from home and all' the lights I had seen were 

 jack-o'-lanterns. I had often watched the ignis-fatuua upon 

 that, prairie. Striking the breaking I was determined. I 

 Stepped ill-, i mi l out, slid off one harness andmounted after 

 loosing the other horse. I had as lief hollow that one as any 

 other phosphorescent treachery — but not with wheels over 

 plowed ground. 



The light stillglared — a fickle, lying, hollow promise — luring 

 me to somenew evil; may be to the blaekswamps of Vermillion 

 —maybe into themireofLangham Creek, most likely— fornow 

 on this side, now on that, sometimes in rear, but never in 

 front, it seemed as if a thousand voices had Opened from 

 throats that already satnted the effluvium that was to arise 

 a week hence from the decaying carcasses of your corres- 

 pondent and bis horses. But I didn't really much care for 

 i wolves. They aud I were old acquaintances. 1 had 

 more than once scattered a pack of them with mud balls, f 

 jogged on, may be a minute, perhaps not half of it. That 

 light stood for me. Itwas in my house, and I had unhitched 

 just thirteen rods from my own door, at two o'clock by the. 

 'Waltham. 



I started on hoisebael: with a companion from Savan- 

 nah, with the mixed design of hunting and tramping, 

 making Jacksonville the objective point. We crossed the 



