334 
FOREST AND STREAM 
delphia papers, and the leading dailies of this city, Boston, 
Cincinnati, and other metropolitan towns, have all had 
their several pleasantries and encomiums to hestow, their 
hanters at the inprovised hunters in buckskin and mocca¬ 
sins, and their flings at the bear. Some in their admiration 
of the creation, have forgotten to mention the genius 
who suggested and created, just as most men in receiving 
the good gifts of this life arc apt to forget the Giver; but 
the editor of this journal need not feel slighted by the 
omission. The pleasure bestowed upon the sight-seers is 
satisfactory compensation, while it Is sufficient to know 
that long after the Hunter’s Camp is forgotten, lovers of 
nature will remember and seek for the delights of Forest 
asd Stream. _ 
TROUT1NG SONG—A PARODY. 
DEDICATED TO THE WILLEWEMOC CLUB. 
W HEN spring time comes and scatters o'er 
The verdant meads full many a Dower, 
We vote our offices a bore. 
And we go off a-trontlng. 
And then we have such jolly fun, 
And such fantastic things are done 
Upon the stream, that every one 
Thinks nothing like it ’neath the son. 
Tangled whiskers, snnbornt nose. 
Blistered feet and dripping clothes, 
All for pleasure! so it goes, 
When we go off a-trouting. 
When we go off a-trouting, Oht 
And if the stormy Eastern wind 
Its way onto our stream doth find. 
We don't a continental mind. 
While we are off a-trontlng. 
Eor then with cards and pocket pistol 
We play, and often wet our whistle. 
Or to onr friends write an epistle. 
And for the rain don't care a thistle. 
Tangled whiskers, sunburnt nose, 
Blistered feet and dripping clothes. 
All for pleasnrel so it goes. 
When we go off a-trouting. 
When we go off a tronting, Ohl 
But if, perchance, there’s too mnch gin. 
Some foolish chap will tumble in. 
And then arises quite a din, 
While we are off a-trouting. 
Or, mayhap, if tho stones are all 
Worn smooth, nnd humps of caution Bmall, 
Some gent may cut an awkward sprawl, 
Or sit down under a waterfall. 
Tangled whiskers, sunbnrnt nose, 
Blistered feet and dripping clothes. 
All for pleasnrel so it goes, 
When we go off a-tronting, 
When we go off a-trouting, Oh! 
And when at last, with W elcfiUed creel - 
We reach onr home, how tired we feel! 
’Tis then we eat a hearty meal. 
When we get back from tronting. 
Aronnd the board what tales we tell 
Of big fish lost by broken sneli, 
Of red deer Been in woodland dell, 
And all adventures that befell 1 
Well-brushed whiskers, cream-washed nose, 
Slippered feet and warm, dry clothes. 
Oh, what pleasure each one knows 
When we get back from tronting. 
When we get back from trouting, Ohl 
For Forest and Stream. 
in tl(c (f^oloninl 0kq$s. 
TREATING OF OLD THINGS IN YE OLD¬ 
EN TIME. 
Wakel wake! night's lamps are fading fast, 
The dappled dawn appears; 
Hark! hark! tho bugle's winding blast, 
The hounds and hunter cheers. 
With sinewB braced their course they take. 
And brush the ear ly aew; 
O'er hill and dale, thro' brush and brake, 
The pack the game pursue.— Old Hunting Song. 
I N the olden days of our country everything seems to 
have been different from our present epoch. It is 
doubtless true that human nature is the one unchangeable 
thing in this world, and the came feelings and passions 
possess all mankind alike, and made a man of thousands 
of years ago the identical man of to-day. But circum¬ 
stances which Burround mankind have much to do in 
moulding his character. The potent rules of his “order," 
the unwritten laws of the society in which he moves, the 
social education that he is unconsciously taught, and a 
hundred other intangible things all correspond to make the 
gentleman of the ancient regime utterly unlike his descend¬ 
ants of to-day ; not so different, it may be, in their thoughts 
and feelings, bat certainly the antipodes of us in their 
daily routine, and in their sports and pastimes. The 
sportsman of the past, to use a comparison, resembles as 
much his prototype of our epoch, as the long single-bancl, 
silver-rimmed, flint-look fowling piece does our steel bar¬ 
relled, patent back-action breech-loader, though in this in¬ 
stance comparison is not in favor of the latter. What our 
own sportsmen can do, and are daily doing, the columns 
of the Forest and Stream keep Us informed of and posted 
in its own graphic way; but how the Nimrods amused 
themselves with their sports and pastimes a hundred years 
or so ago, few, very few, know. And so I write this to 
show how the gentleman sportsman and the “cocked hat 
gentry” rode after the hounds, or chased the noble btag 
through the forests and across the streams of the Old Do¬ 
minion. I want, if I can do so, to reproduce those an¬ 
cient gentlemen in all their glory, and with all their sur¬ 
roundings. 
In tile time I speak of sporting was followed with a vim 
and devotion never seen with us; it was the all-absorbing 
pursuit of the country gentleman. The notes of the horn 
and the deep baying of the hounds was the sweetest music 
to his ear, and the brush of an "old red" the proudest tro¬ 
phy he could win. No engrossing business harrassed him 
and kept him chained to a routine of daily duty that 
addled his brain, destroyed his digestion, and made him 
pass sleepless nights; no daily morning and evening edi¬ 
tion of the Herald or Hews held him in a perpetual fer¬ 
ment over political affairs, and in continual hot water with 
his friends on the other side; no busy railroad trains rat¬ 
tled through his estate, scaring the game away, and bring¬ 
ing from the cities the crowds of inevitable pot-hunters to 
shoot his birds and vex his soul; and, worse than all, no 
gangs of civil rights colored gentlemen, with old army 
muskets on their shoulders, and a score of mongrels and 
curs of low degree trooping at their heels, roameS at will 
through his domain, killing everything that had wings— 
tame or wild. No; these ills of modem growth were all 
unknown in those good old limes. Then the gentleman 
had little to do beyond a general outlook over his planta¬ 
tion, which was governed on moderate principles. His 
was an easy-going existence, taking it as it came, riding 
fearlessly, laughing joyously, living easily, with no care 
on his mind, no strain on his nerves, he extracted all the 
bloom from the peach, all the sweetness from the flower; 
exercising his patriarchal sway wisely, reading Ills weekly 
mail—the Virginia Gazette, whose ponderous articles al¬ 
ways put him to sleep—offering a hospitality without stint 
or limit, hunting the deer, shooting over his dogs, or fol¬ 
lowing his pack across the country, we see in him a class 
that does not exist now, and he stands alone in his indi¬ 
viduality. Virginia, in the colonial times, was an immense 
empire in its extent, and was for the greater part a dense 
wilderness, except along the navigable rivers emptying 
into Chesapeake Bay; on the banks of these streams were 
plantations of thousands of acres, thoroughly tilled, which 
produced a plenteous store of tobacco and wheat, which 
filled the planter’s barns, and being sent to England re¬ 
turned a plethoric supply of yellow guineas that made liis 
income a princely one, and enabled him to keep up bis 
baronial establishment in splendid style. 
Jhe history Of the “meet” and sporting comprises two 
distinct epochs—the first comprising a period of some 
twenty years before the Revolution—1755 to 1770. The 
manner and ways of the people were all English, and 
everything they used was brought out from that country. 
The second period is after the Revolution, and takes in an 
era of fifty years or more. We find that the manners, 
modes, and customs are greatly changed, and the people 
have changed with them. I will endeavor to show up 
both of these periods so far back, as they are, that a sort 
of halo of romance overshadows them, and ,the history of 
their sporting life cannot fail to be interesting. I will, of 
course, commence with the first era, and will try and pho¬ 
tograph mentally some of the “cocked-hat gentry” and 
their doings, who, in those days, were intensely loyal to 
their king, and the dawning idea of a bloody revolution 
had entered no patriot’s brain. Indeed, at the time I write, 
Patrick Henry was giving his family great concern for his 
incorrigible laziness, letting his country store take care of 
itself while he amused himself roaming over the country 
with his gun and rod, or played the fiddle to an admiring 
auditory in some cross-roads tavern. Geo. Mason, the 
father of the first constitution of Virginia, was following 
Lord Fairfax's hounds. The immortal George W. was 
also riding hard and fast behind his lordship’s dogs, amus¬ 
ing his leisure moments with making love to every pretty 
maiden he met; and the other historical heroes were pur¬ 
suing the even tenor of their Way, seeking pleasure after 
their own fashion, and little dreaming what a stown was 
brewing, and all about a cargo of tea, a beverage which 
none of them ever drank. 
The men of those days well understood what real com¬ 
fort meant, and though, as the cant phrase goes, “they 
were heavy on style” and lavished their money freely, yet 
it was not altogether in vain show. Their houses were 
but solidly aud substantially built; no vast hotel-like man¬ 
sion ostentatiously reared, and in glaring bad taste, attract¬ 
ed thereon a cheap notoriety. Their grounds were well but 
simply kept, the out-buildings of good home-made mate¬ 
rial, the work of the plantation carpenter. Their whole 
establishment showed wealth, but not apparent display; if 
they ever went to extremes it was on horses, and many a 
gentleman found himself ruined by an over-fond love for 
horseflesh, and an overwhelming belief in his prowess. A 
Virginia cavalier loved his horse second only to his sweet¬ 
heart or wife. It is hardly to be denied that these gentry 
owned famous blooded stock at a time when every planter 
was an ardent sportsman, whether he “rode to hunt" or 
“hunted to ride” in that immortal distinction of Ashelon 
Smith’s old whip, in those days of English thoroughbreds, 
of rattling gallops, and desperate breathers. We all kuow 
that there were some famous horses in America—imported 
of course—that for bottom and speed, and rough cross¬ 
country work, were incomparable. , My own impression is 
that the Virginia horse, leaving out Diomead’s family, was 
of that called in England the “Destrier,’’bred from the 
Andalusian pony and the Arab and Barb, which the 
MOors had for ceuturieB in Spain. 
The term “planter” was originally applied to those who 
cultivated the tobacco plant, but was afterward given to 
all who cultivated the lowlands. Everything was profuse 
on the plantation, and the cost of production was nor, felt. 
The planter raised his hogs, who gave him meat through¬ 
out the year; his sheep furnished the wool that was spun 
into cloth and made into clothes by his slaves; his flour and 
meal were the products of his estate; his cellar was stored 
with vegetables and cereals; his housewife had her closet 
filled with potted frnits and pickets, and a dozen or so 
barrels of apple and peach brandy of his own make was 
always in tlie wine dungeou. Ho had his blacksmith, 
wheelrigbt, and carpenter, and generally that Useful char¬ 
acter about the farm called “Jack of all trades," who 
could turn his hand to anything, and the farmer could, in 
those days, live like a lord without paying out any money, 
or worse than all giving his check. ThiB being the case, 
with his isolation from general society, it is no wonder he 
was hospitable in the extreme. Nowhere were the wants 
of stranger guests more regarded, and nowhere was the 
character of the true gentleman held more sacred. The 
planter was noted for his open-hearted frankness, and his 
perfect sincerity. And why should he not be? He does 
not engage in the rush and turmoil of trade; his mind is 
not pressed down with business secrets; his better feelings 
have not been shocked or blunted by the familiarity with 
the deceits, gulfs, and evasions of tho business world; ho 
is as artless and as trusting as a child. The subjoined de¬ 
scription, written 150 years ago by Hugh Jones, copied 
literally from a rare old MS, will show up the character of 
those hard-riding, hard-drinking, fox-hunting communities 
better than I can picture them. It says:— 
“The planters leading easy lives don’t much admire la¬ 
bor or any manly exercise, except horse racing aud follow¬ 
ing the hounds, nor any diversion, except cock fighting, in 
which some greatly delight. This easy way of living and 
the heat of the summer makes them very lazy, who are 
then said to be climate struck (we call it now the sprmg 
fever). The saddle horses, though not very large, are 
hardy, strong, aud fleet, aud can run for miles, showing 
their great speed and unequalled endurance. The planters 
are such lovers of riding that they never walk if tney can 
help it; aud I have known of many who have spent seveial 
hours in the morning in ranging the woods to catch their 
horses, only to ride two or three miles to the church or the 
court-house. The “meet” is the place they geuerally ap¬ 
point for arranging business matters, for they arc more 
certain of finding there those whom they want to see than 
at their homos. No people can entertain their friends with 
better cheer and welcome, and strangers and travelers are 
here treated in the most free aud plentiful manner, so 
that there are no inns or ordinaries on the road." 
In such a country, with such people and habits, it would 
be heaven to our modern tramp. It would only require a 
decent suit of clothes and a glib tongue—nothing more— 
to faie like a king and live like a lord. All the gentry 
were bard drinkers, all of them "two bottle men.” It is 
no wonder that drunkenness was so prevalent; and then 
pure old mountain whiskey only cost six shillings a gallon, 
aud the best Jamaica rum, that it would do your heart 
good to taste, could he bought lor nine shillings. In their 
indoor social customs they were very different from us. 
While they treated with exaggerated politeness the high¬ 
born dames, yet it was not thought wrong to curse before 
them. A gentleman would help himself to a pinch of 
snuff out of a jeweled box with stately grace, and at the 
same time damn bis eyes at the end of every sentence. 
But the civility between men was always observed, for the 
rapier that hung at the gentleman's left side was a won¬ 
derful incentive to courtliness of demeanor; a bitter word, 
a contemptons gesture—and—a clash of steel; a few feints, 
the parry, a severe lunge, and ft crimson Btream spouting 
from one or both was the result. And so men had to keep 
a civil tongue in their mouths. 
Every gentleman took great pride in his stables and his 
kennels, and good horses and good hounds were held at an 
exorbitant price. The keeper of the houndB was the 
moat important functionary on the estate, and his life was 
a sinecure; he hud as mauy assistants as he chose, and 
nothing to do except to supervise the kennel. Some of the 
planters kept a huge pack of hounds, as I Bhall presently 
show. Next to the keeper was the head coachman, whose 
authority over his realm was supreme. He it was who on 
state occasions drove the great family coach, and held the 
ribbons over four prancing thoroughbreds; he was usually 
an old darkey, aristocratic to a degree, and looked down 
upon the common hands with ineffable scorn. Sitting on 
his lofty seat, dressed in his crimson and plush livery, with 
bis three-cornered hat surmounting his bushy head, he 
was a prominent figure, and the object of veneration ami 
envy to every son of Ham on the plantation. The coach was 
a splendid affair, and was generally drawn by four horses, 
sometimes with six. A footman and two outriders in liv¬ 
ery, one riding befoie and the other behind, completed the 
turn-out. The coachman, as I said, was the muster of ihe 
stables, and he took an intense pride in his horse s, whose 
pedigrees be knew by heart, and to his advice the master 
always deferred. The kennels formed a separate estab¬ 
lishment in themselves; the dogs were fed at regular hours 
during the day, and often exercised by the master, who 
trained them for different purposes; some were used en¬ 
tirely to run doer, and were never allowed to run with the 
fox hounds. It was the duty of the keeper to pick out the 
best pups, and destroy all such as had any blemish or 
fault. The kennels were well constructed, thoroughly 
warm and comfortable; some of them, like Capt. Daniel 
McCarty’s, of Cedar Grove, were ornamentally built, and 
looked liko a pretty Swiss cottage. The kennels were 
cleaned out twice a bay, and perfect neatness was observ¬ 
ed. If a planter was known to keep a dirty kennel he 
lost, caste with his brother sportsmen at once. I shall now 
proceed to give the names of the celebrated sportsmen of 
the first period, and tell about them all that history and 
tradition has handed down to us. 
