82 
FOREST AND STREAM 
For Forett and Stream. 
THE HERMIT OF THE BUTANO AND 
PESCADERO CREEKS, NEAR PES- 
CADERO, CALIFORNIA. 
D URING one of tny fishing trips with my nephew, a 
short lime since, we made tlie acquaintance oi a 
singular character, who lived the life of a recluse in a 
small cabin built of planlcs, at the juuction of the above 
named creeks, within a mile of the Pacific Ocean. This 
strange and rather rough and uneducated personage made 
his living chiefly by hunting and fishing. Of course there 
wns some history connected with his former life, hut we 
did not like to make any attempt to penetralc into what he 
might most likely wish to keep secret or sacred. It was 
said of him by some of those who knew, perhaps, some¬ 
thing concerning him, that, like some others, he had been 
unfortunate in Jifo in some way, either by some .disap¬ 
pointment in love, or in business. lie baa been in this 
part of the country, and iu that very spot where we found 
him for some years, and had formerly been a plasterer by 
trade, and now and then, wlieu hard "up for a subsistence, 
he had, while dwelling in his lonely hut, worked a little in 
the same business. We often found him bait Ashing, and 
we sometimes saw him take some nice young salmon or 
grilse, from one to three pounds weight. He had noticed 
that we took some good salmon with the artificial fly, and 
one morning after that we found him throwing a fly on the 
stream made by himself out oE the hairs of an old black 
ing brush. He told us he had alarge salmon rise to it, but 
failed to hook him. Takiug compassion on him for this, 
his rhde and primitive imitation of a fly, we gave him two 
or three good salmon flies and a gut leader. We also, hnv- 
ing generally more lunch with us than we wanted to con¬ 
sume, presented it t.o him, or iu order to do the thing with 
greater delicacy, deposited it in his cabin during his tem- 
pory abscence. In return for this, our surplus provender, 
he supplied us with some mussels, which afforded the best 
bait there for still-fishing for salmon. His cabin was situ¬ 
ated upon the side of agentle hill, which sloped to the mar¬ 
gin of the river, and was within view of the ocean break¬ 
ers, the sound of which eternally rolling on llie shore was 
distinctly audible; and bis prospect was sufficiently open 
to command an extensive view of the two rivers. 
“Alone he lived between two bills. 
Famed Boostock mu betweeu; 
At times wild animals appeared, 
And men were seldom seen. 
He truly exclaimed with Thoreau: 
“This is my domain, my cell, my 
Hermitage, my cabin, wnat you will— 
Hove it better than a snail hie house." 
A short distance from the hut was a spring, which we 
often saw him visit with his pail. His fireplace was in the 
open front of his domicil, rudely made of rough stone9, 
and was always half filled with ashes. The planks around 
and the rafters above were as black as jet; but to relieve 
this blackness lie had pasted upon the sides some of those 
highly-colored and extravagant circus bills, one of which 
represented the agile and fine form of a female equestrian 
or acrobat. His sleeping place was at the extreme end of 
his den, and was like the bunk of ft sailing craft. In one 
place stood a woodeu chest and a half barrel of flour, and 
the only thing to sit upon was a three-legged stool. The 
devices iu the walls wore stopped With rags, and from the 
rafters depended bundles of herbs, as mint, wild sage, etc. 
A rusty old gun occupied one corner, and over the roof 
outside were placed a home-made and a bamboo or cane 
flahing-roil. On every side in the interior, resting upon 
wooden pegs, were numerous shelves of every size and 
form, which were appropriated to a variety of uses. On 
one or two of them were the cooking utensils of our soli¬ 
tary friend; on another, one or two smoky books; and on 
others a little of everything, from a box of salt or paper 
of tea down to a spool of thread or a paper of needles. 
Two or three large gray cats watched our movements with 
suspicious eyes, prowled about the premises, or were seen 
engaged gnawing portions of rabbits or ground squirrels, 
pieces Of fish, etc. For twelve years, lie told us, he had 
been the occupier of this rude and lonely dwelling, a draw¬ 
ing of which my nephew located in his sketch book. 
We expressed uu opinion that he must lead a very lonely 
and melancholy life iu this remote situation. “Not at all, 
not at all,” replied our friend. “I depend upon myself 
lor happiness, and not Upon the world, which 1 have been 
iong sick and wearied of. I am very fond of taking these 
salmon here, either with nets or lines; also of shooting the 
numerous kinds of game which surround me. What 1 
canuot eat myself I dispose of in Pescadero, car¬ 
rying them to town in yonder punt.* I see there some 
company for a little while, but I always soon return, con¬ 
tented with my life here." 
Well, perhaps there may be a worse life than this for 
one who had no relatives or friends, and who has been tired 
of what, to him, has been a selfish and heartlesss world. 
But this inclination for retirement, or a hermit’s life, is not 
a common feeling with uneducated men, but with those 
chiefly who belong to that class of persons who depend 
upon books, the works of nature, and themselves for hap¬ 
piness, and not upon a cold, ceremonious, and frivolous 
world 1 can fancy the pleasures which such persons en¬ 
joy from the revolving seasons, and the innumerable ob¬ 
jects of naturaL scenery around them. They are indeed 
manifold, and it is pleasant to remember that "nature 
never did betray the heart that loved her.” Her scenes 
may be looked upon as familiar friends, not only when 
crowned with a wreath of snow, but when rejoicing iu 
their summer bloom. And if, being a fisherman, a peace¬ 
ful and heart-soothiug stream is near at hand in lire latter 
season, and abounds m the finest salmon, or trout, or bass, 
etc., and then it is less incomparable to those who take de¬ 
light uud are skillful in the geutle art. "Woods and helds 
furnish game to the hunter, but not the least of their treas¬ 
ures are the ten thousand beautiful birds which make mel¬ 
ody iu their little hearts, ami ufiord unalloyed pleasure for 
at least one-halt' the year, And then what exquisite pleas¬ 
ures can be enjoyed in watching the ever-varying changes 
of the year, so particularly remarkable in the Fast, though 
not so distinct in (Jalifornia. First, when some of lire 
spring flowers tell us that tUe rain and snow are over and 
gone, uud there is refreshing sunshine to sow our seeds; 
secondly, when the glowing summer is in its prime, with 
its dewy mornings aud lovely twilights; also in the sober 
autumn time, when we may thoughtfully count the leaves 
floating on the bosom of the streams; and then again when 
the cold winds of winter are howling around our dwellings, 
pud we sit tranquilly before our cheerful flres and peer 
into the burning embers, building palaces in our imagina¬ 
tion. It is good lo be able to live happily without the ne¬ 
cessity of worldly excitement; and to depend upon our¬ 
selves for companionship when it is desirable. 
From the contented hermit of Butano and Pescadero 
Creeks I took some lessons which may be of some benefit 
to me. One is, at any rate, not to depend too much on 
the outside world altogether for comfort and enjoyment, 
but rather to find most of my happiness within my own 
breast and in my own resources, in some innocent and fa¬ 
vorite occupation of reading or literary correspondence, 
and above all, the leading recreations of my life as chosen 
pursuits—the gun, the rod, in forest aud stream, mountain 
and plain. E. J. Hoofer. 
For Forest and Stream. 
THE SUNDAY GUNNER, 
T HE anecdote of the Deacon’s boy who fished on Sun 
day, published in a recent issue of your paper, “re¬ 
minds me’ of a liltle story” of a Sunday gunner, anti my 
story at least lias the merit of being true, as old residents 
of Western Massachusetts can testify. 
In the days of which I write there was but one church 
in the town of Cheshire, Berkshire counly, ami that a 
hardshell Baptisi. It was provided over by the eccentric 
Elder Lelanii, whose name is still a household word in all 
that region of country, Elder Leland had a son John— 
a hard ticket, as minisier’s sons sometimes are. The Elder 
had strong reasons for believing that John occasionally 
indulged iu gunning on Sunday, and so one day look him 
in hand, telling him that ho frequently heard the report of 
arms in the neighboring Ioiest during “sermon time” on 
Sunday, and had noticed mat he was rarely to be seen in 
church on these Occasions. John pleaded innocence, say¬ 
ing that he frequently sat in the gallery pews, and if at 
the back part of the pew could not be seen, even from the 
old-fasltioned high pulpit, a fact too well known to the 
Elder, who frequently had to station a Deacon “up gal¬ 
lery” to watch the hoys. John assured his father that if 
the next Sunday was pleasant he would be as likely as ever 
to hear guns, and he should sit where be could be seen. 
Now for the sequel. Stowed away in the garret of the 
Elder’s residence was a dilapidated old family musket. 
During the week Johu loaded the musket iu the'following 
manner: First a heavy charge of powder, then a wad 
made of of tow, wound round a narrow strip of “spunk” 
in such a manner that the spunk would penetrate tile pow¬ 
der and also project through the top of the wad. Upon 
this wad be placed another heavy charge of powder, then 
another wad, as before, alternating powder and wads till 
the musket was full. A majority of your readers probably 
know lliat the spuuk referred lo is a kind of dry, rotten 
wood, that will take fire from a spark and burn like a fuse, 
very slowly and so sure that it was formerly used as fuse. 
They will also see that by young Leland’s device all the 
charges of powder in the old musket were connected by a 
strip of this uaturul fuse. 
The old church stood upon a high point of land just out 
of the village. The ground sloped very rapidly to the 
rear, down into a meadow. Iu this meadow, some three 
or four hundred yards from the church, was a hollow so 
low that it could not be seen except from the upper part 
of the church; at least when the spot was visited by the 
writer thirty years ago the lower part of the church could 
not be seen from, the hollow, and at the time of which 1 
write it is said that intervening bushes bid the hollow en¬ 
tirely from the church. Young Leland had taken his time 
during the week to prepare tile musket for Sunday fervice. 
On Saturday evening the sky betokened a pleasant day for 
the morrow, and John placed the musket in the hollow, 
which, by the way, was directly between the church and a 
neighboring forest. A pleasant Sabbath dawned upon that 
quiet, pout up valley. The "last bell” was the signal for 
me Elder and wife to start for church. This was betore 
the days of matches or coal stoves. John had some hard 
wood fire-brands smoldering in the old-fashioned fire-place; 
be had prepared himself for church, but hid in the rear of 
ihe house. As soon as his parents had passed behind the 
neighboring bouses, John Beized a fire-brand and passed out 
at the rear, behind stone fences, hedge-rows, etc., and by a 
somewhat circuitous route to the resting place of the old 
musket, and tired the spunk in the muzzie wad which lmd 
been purposely left of good length. Retracing hissteps.be 
was at the church just as the Elder commenced his usual 
half hour morning' prayer. The end load of the musket 
exploded just as John arrived at the church, but it was loo 
near tiro muzzle to make much noise, and was not heard iu- 
side the church. John took up a prominent position in the 
gallery directly in front of the pulpit, and in full view of 
hisfalher. Two explosions occurred during the long prayer, 
the second one so loud as to be heard by the Elder, who in¬ 
voluntarily opened bis eyes, and at once caught sight of 
John sitting directly in front of him as grave as a statue. 
All through the forenoon service frequent reports of guns 
were plainly heard by the entire congregation, and at each 
report Ihe Elder would glance hastily at Johu who sat stiff 
as a deacon. Wherever John sat iu church, there would 
his cronies congregale. Several of them were with him on 
this occasion, aud to them he confided his successful ar¬ 
rangement. During the noon hour these boys took a cir¬ 
cuitous route lo the hollow in the meadow now all quiet. 
One of Ihe youngest of those boys was thirty years ago an 
elderly and leading business man of Cheshire, aud from 
him 1 obtained ibis nanative. He said that John guided 
them to tbe point where he had left the musket, but it was 
gone! Its track, however, was plainly visible. Each dis¬ 
charge had burned and blackened a divergent streak 
through the grass, and by following up these places they 
soon came upon tbe musket, as green as a window bLind, to 
use my inform aid’s words, "And,” added he, “ithad kicked 
all over a half acre.” In kicking through the fresh grass it 
had literally painted itself green. At the supper table that 
afternoon, John triumphantly interviewed hia father upon 
the subject of Sunday gunning. The Elder expressed him¬ 
self much relieved to know that Johu was not. a Sabbath- 
breakcrl _ WaCAOtah. 
—A farmer in England, suspecting one of bis dogs of 
sheep killing and worrying recently, gave him an emetic, 
the result ot which was to bring up some flesh and and a 
sheep’s ear corresponding to that of one of the sheep whose 
ear had berm partly devoured. Should any farmer desire 
to test a suspected dog, he has only to give him a teaspoon- 
lul of salt and half the quantity of mustard, dissolved in 
warm water. For a permaueut cure, amputate his tail 
just behind the oars, 
HOY’S WILDERNESS AGAIN. 
fiiiiut Park, lid., Mutch Sth, :87fl. 
Emtob Fohkst and Stream:— 
policing in lust week's Forest and Stream a letter from “Standard" 
on “Hoy’s (properly Hoyo’s) Wilderness,” I thought that a little further 
information on that region might lie of service, especially as “Standard’ ’ 
has been misinformed upon one or two points. 
Oakland, the stulJon nearest the objective point, Is SKIS miles west or 
Biillimore, on the main stem of Ihe Baltimore and Ohio K. B. Here 
yon can eet plenty of ammunition—several sizes of Ely’s paper shells, 
&e., also everything necessary in tho way of food. Let ns suppose that 
yon hove written to Wm. Kilzmillcr, (not “Lloyd" Kitzmillor) telling 
him you wish to spend a couple of weeks at his house or at the “Dobbin 
Hotel," (which is in the “Blackwater country,” and not “Hoye's Wilder¬ 
ness). If you have come to fish for tront, the latter place (Dobbin's) 
shonld be your Mecca, if to hunt, the former. 
Arriving at Oakland in the morning, you moke your purchases of 
everything but provisions, for they will not be necessary unless you wish 
to camp oat. In the meuutime you havo mode the acquaintance of Mr. 
Kitzmillor, who tells yon that be hasa spring wagon ready for yourself and 
impedimenta, and in a fewmlnnles you are spinning along over a good 
road—uud really witli the except ton of'a couple of miles it Is not bad. 
Ton ask yonr polite and attentive driver how far it is to his place, and 
he replies, “thirieen tnUeB;" whereupon “Standard's" Iweuty-eialit 
miles vanish nnd become “airy nothings.'' He also informs yon that 
Lloyd Kitzmiller has nothing to do with the Dobbin Uonse, and that he, 
(Wm.) keeps it open as a hotel during the summer, nnd also that, instead 
of being a "short distance” from Lloyd’s, it is eleven very long miles, 
and thirteen from his own home. By this time you think that “Wish 
Millor," the "old hunter," who gave “Standard" his information must 
have been partaktDg rather freely of the "extract of maize," wbeu that 
conversation occurred, and if you should see Ihe “ram 1 ’of the Black- 
water and find them sixty-three instead^ “eighty-five" feet high, your 
opinion would be strengthened. The “lordly mansion" is there, I admit, 
but the “comfortsof the City" consist chiefly of cockroaches, enormous 
black ants and wood-licks. I do not wish to speuk slightingly of the 
house, when used as a hotel, for then it is as neat aud clean, and can 
well be, but when no one bus been in It for a month or two the "com¬ 
forts" are amazingly conspicuoua. Bnt lo return to onr moutone; liy the 
time you have spent a week at Kilzmillcr’s you are enchained with Ihe 
paradise into which you have fallen. Von have found deer in abund¬ 
ance, tnrkeyB ditto, and more raffed grouse than you over saw before. 
Perhaps yon have had a bear hunt and captuied a flue specimen whose 
skin will be made Into a robe to remind you of tbe mountain hunting, 
or have killed a panther, though the latter is hardly probable. Speaking 
of panthers, 1 saw three in Oakland a abort time since, or more properly, 
the skin of one and bodies of two. They were killed hyGeorge Wilson, 
one of Ihe best hunters in the country. He had been tracking a deer Tor 
some time when he came upon the trail of four panthers which were 
also following It. Hefonnd soon after the carcase of tho deer which 
had been beaten in a fair race, and was parttally eaten. Wilson at once 
went home, where he procured some strychnine which he placed m the 
carcase. The next moraine, accompanied by several neighbors, Wilson 
returned and found the body of a large female panther, of which a por¬ 
tion had been eaten by her cubs. The body of one of the latter was 
found about a mile away, and soon after a second cub wub discovered 
alive, treed, and shot, but another which was seen escaped. 1 think 
this all occurredtn “Hoye’s Wilderness." but am not sure. 
All that la required by any one who wishes to visit this "Wilderness 1 
i. s. “Hoye’s," Is to write to Wm. Kilzmiller, Oakland, Garrett county, 
Maiyland, Am.es rant. 
Editor Forest and Stream:— 
I trust that your correspondent “Standard," will pardon the liberty I 
am about to lake with the Information furnished him on tho above named 
topic, by his friend Mr. Millar. Kay mote, 1 evon dace to hope that he 
will Teel secretly gratefol to me for saving him from the uupleasaut con¬ 
sequences likely to follow his Indorsement of Mr. Miller's repieseiilu- 
tion—consequences about which Rev. Mr. Murray, of Adiiouiluck funic, 
can give him all necessary information. 
The region in question is oue with which I may fairly claim to be 
familiar, having spent neatly live months of 1872 and 78 in Its inmost 
solitudes. Engaged during that time in taking tront for piacienliural 
pnrpoees, 1 had the best possible opportunities of acquainting myself 
with tho contents, both of foreat and stream, and as I personally attended 
to the transportation of not leea than eight thonsand trout from the 
river to Oakland, I became painfully intimate with the character of 
the roods, uud equally well versed on Ihe subject of distances. Let me 
begin my corrections with t.he last mentioned. 
From Oakland lo the top of “Back bone" Mountain, as it is called, 
the distance is eight miles, and the road, doting the dry Season, 111 for 
any kind of carriage. At this point the road to Hoy’s Wilderness 
crosses the Northwestern Turnpike—which leads to Fort Pendleton—be¬ 
coming rapidly rough, and unsiilted to light conv%auces, though I have 
frequently driven in a light buggy as far as Wm. Kitzmifier’B, abontseven 
miles from the turnpike. From Wm. Kltzmlfier’s to Lloyd's Is about 
three miles. Here the road crosses tbe North Branch of the Potomac— 
a mere brook at this point—and winds its rough, devioiiB, and almost 
constantly ascending wuy, about live miles funlier to tho top of Hoy’s 
Mountains. At this point there are two roads, ono leading directly lo 
the Blackwater—about flve miles distant—and tbe other to the Dobbin 
House about equally distant. Mr. Miller’s "short distance Trum Lloyd 
FitzmilierV l hen is about ten miles. But tills is not the worst feature 
of the case. When me sportsman has reached the Dobbin House, he 
wifi find instead of “lordly mansion” or “puluiiat establishment," with 
“furniture and bedding,” a plain log house with tho barest necessaries 
for ealingand sleeping. Aud worse again, than this, lie will find him¬ 
self still tUree to live miles distunt from good fishing- One day’s ex¬ 
perience in tramping from Dobbin's to Ihe liver, wading in its durk rind 
deceiving waters all day, bruising himself on ft* rough and slippery bed, 
and tramping back again at night wet, weary, and sore, will satisfy any | 
one with that sort of thing. But for even this tbe pleasure-seeker must | 
pay roundly. Whatever the house contains, has been furnished by Mr. 
Kitzmiller, and he does not propose to lose auytbing by the operation. 
The nominal sum will be at least a reasonable compensation. Ill re¬ 
gard to the “extract of maize,” 1 would observe th^t when Mr. Kitzmil- 
ler indulges in this worldly beverage lie does it at the expense of 
his guests, tor be has become a very pious man, and no longer pins 
the bottle to his neighbor's lips." But “Standard’s" authority says that 
game of all kinds is to bo found right at the door of this establishment. 
Let me caution your readers against this statement In particular. I have 
known good hunters to spend a whole week In that region, and never gel 
a single shot at any thiug larger tUan a kingtisUer. I have passed through 
the forest from Kitzmilier’s, to camp not less than forty times, and been 
up and down the river more than a hundred, and in the two summer’s 
spent there I saw bnt two deer and three gronse. So far aa sport is con¬ 
cerned the Blackwater has but oue rvaeeming feature. Its waters 
abound, or did two years ago. In beautiful and excellent Havered trout.. 
They are very small, not averaging more than two to three ounces, but 
so numerous tliatlhave caught with a single rod uud (lies over two 
hundred iu hair a day. All tishlng must be done by wafliug, over a ver) 
treacherous bottom, so that the sport is perilous in an unusual degree: 
but this feature is of course a slight objection to the enterprising spoils 
iudu. My advice to all who desire to visit the Wilderness would be, en 
gage a guide and horses at Oaklaud, to take you directly to the river, tie 
prepared to camp, wherever most convenient. If you want a couunis 
eary, Mr. Kilzmiller will serve yon well, and you can gee him. Whet 
you reach the river, don't he disappointed if you Bhould flud ilio trou 
scarce near camp. All parties ore obliged to strike the river at I he t arn' 
point; few ascend more than two miles, and still fewor descend mar* 
than one. Go up, from three to six miles, and if the river le in gooi 
