368 
FOREST AND STREAM, 
jueotiug whether the saw-handles or the slender rapier was 
the weapon chosen. He always “brought his man,” but by 
singular good luclt, or the perfection of skill, he never 
killed his opponent, only putting him hors du combat In 
those days nearly every gentleman had been “out,” and in 
the dear public’s eyes it was a fine feather in their caps. 
Major Bullet greatly distinguished himself in the war with 
the Indians, and the tale of his gallant exploits, and des¬ 
perate daring is a matter,of history. This son of Mars, was 
something of a dandy, however, and his coat of red con¬ 
trasted admirably with his spotless white buck-skin breeches 
and patent-leather top-boots. It is needless to say, that 
the M ajor was a bold rider. 
Another gentleman present who it might be said, lived on 
Ilia horse, was Mann Page, Esquire, a strikingly aristocratic 
looking man. With portly figure and clear cut face; a man 
of great bonhomie whose deep tones and rich mellow 
laughter showed that he knew little or cared little for the 
troubles of life. Mr. Page was, with the exception of the 
Earl, probably the richest man in the colony. He had a 
plantation of eight thousand acres in Frederick county, 
cal'* d “Pageland;” another piece of ground in Prince 
William county, of ten thousand acres, also called “Page- 
land;" nur thousand more in Spottsylvania called "Glen- 
page;” on. thousand iu King William county called 
“Pampadikv” two. thousand in Hanover, two thousand in 
James City, aiq a scole 0 f other farms of a thousand acres 
or so apiece. lx s slaves were numbered by hundreds, and 
many a time when c, t rising he would meet grinning darkeys 
who would tell him ,, at t [ ie y belonged to him, a fact that 
he would never have- nown ua ] ess reminded of, for he 
rarely troubled himself .qth overlooking his numerous 
plantations. His overseet would report once a month, 
and that was sufficient. It , s w ( ser py f ar to employ 
one’s self than to work all the t. jj e aa j ( j i >pj ie max i m 
of the that rough-riding, hard-dri,,j n g gentry, must have 
been “Drink and he merry, for to-n., TOW die „ 
There was another famous charade presefit _ one w p 0 
gives us a blessing when born, and one w 0 tllrova a gl01le 
in our grave when dead; who by a few wou^ changes the 
.whole tenor of our live?, and makes Mr. Caov, e > 8 aQd 
Van Winkles of the wisest of us; one who fen menyke 
and all women adore. I mean the Parson, as he w,. callfri 
then. This joTial person was a great contrast t tlic 
“preacher” of to-day. The church was one of the pro. 
ADIRONDACK 
For Forest and Stream. 
EXPERIENCES. 
SEEKING FOR REST. 
y 
I HAVE finished my fishing trip, and to-morrow will 
find me on my way out of the wilderness; and I look 
forward to the forty-mile stage ride before me as the “hard 
road over Jordan,” leading to happy resting places beyond. 
I’m not sorry to go out. A month's hard work has worn 
out the fever, and I feel quite reconciled to the sacrifice 1 
shall be compelled to make when I get out of the woods— 
sacrifices real and fancied—among the first the pure bracing 
air that we breathe up here among the mountains nearly 
two thousand feet above the sea; the freedom from re¬ 
straint of every kind, toilette, regular hours, letters to 
answer, and business cares; the ravenous appetite, the un¬ 
broken slumber under a blanket, the feeling of rest and 
don’t-care-a-bit-itiveness that one acquires so readily, when 
freed from all conventional restraints, he becomes, with 
nature tor his companion, as near to the natural man as his 
degree of love for his companion can transform him. I 
came into this mountain home with three grand objects in 
view:— 
To obtain rest for a brain tired by long and unremitting 
application to abstruse studies in (to me) unknown fields. 
To obtain from the mountain air daily exercise and com¬ 
plete change ot every habit, a new bold on the health that 
was evidently deserting me. 
And to catch, eat, and talk Ivout. 
1 have been successful in all of my quests, but each suc¬ 
cess lias been qualified by some drawbacks. 
Others are coming after me. Some have already come. 
Four fair-faced hoys, evidently just from their colleges, 
neat, tidy, natty in costume, with endless traps, proclaim¬ 
ing wealth, a setter and a pointer held in leash by nice 
brass chains, breech-loading rifles carrying balls as big as 
peas, fish rods of split bamboo of fabulous lightness, left 
the stage to-day to go into the woods to camp out. What 
joys are before them! How happy they will be camped 
out iu a log sliauty ou the banks of some lake or river, 
devoured by flies, their dogs miserable and of no use at 
this season, when their guides, if they take guides (and 
God help them if they don’t) won’t let them kill the part¬ 
ridge, and starve its brood, and when the old spotted 
hound, heavy and homely by the camp-fire, but sure to 
the trail till the deer takes water, or he, the relentless pur¬ 
suer, lies weak aud starving upon the not to be deserted 
track, growls ominously upon the petted fireside favorites, 
and perhaps for lack of other food devours the new comer. 
Well, it’s no use moralizing. When those boys get homo, 
I and perhaps read this, they’ll look back to the days when, 
riad of food, they contented themselves with chubs and 
sums that was open to younger sons, and they entered 1 .1 beq.heads in lieu of the speckled beauties their fancy had 
— .w'ineeial taste, desire, or nreference. Indeed, taught them were to bo obtained at little cost. For their 
“pieh and for that of other amateurs, I will transcribe a 
bit of poetical advice, quite popular on the lakes, as it 
comots ieSmusic> good a ,| V iee as to the method of handling 
and dispnsug of the ordinary class of fish caught, and 
o?. 11 !? ''-'lonnhiion as to their relative values. It is sung 
wiilmut any special taste, desire, or preference. Indeed, 
a sermon -preached on Sunday was all they were expected 
to do besides officiating at weddings and funerals. They 
loved ihetr liquur and pastimes better than the prayer 
books and -’he church bells. This sounds strange, but it is 
so Ht'W we would stare to see the Rev. Dismal Horror, 
and Mi- t/oodwords, flying over a hurdle, clearing with a 
rimrini Halloo! a twenty-foot stream, or shouting a jovial 
Huuttvf retrain- The old chronicles of Virginia, say that 
_ .me" or the clergy in the colony was intem- 
per.-nCe, lor they found it best to go with the planters in 
evt•y.tbiug as their very bread depended on their keeping 
ot'geod terms with their patrons. They thus had to bo 
y ry particular how they preached against any of the vices 
v»i uuy great man of the vestry had. So they did in 
tome, as lire Romans do—and headed all tie pleasures and 
porta. If the upth i> told, they “preacied on Sunday, 
rude ou Monday, got drunk on Sunday,” and so oil through 
the nursery song. 
Neu Ambler, a fine young fellow, unusually brilliant in 
mind and handsome in person, was also on the lawn with 
his puck of dogs. Ayiett of Westmoreland; young Selden, 
Who alter the revolution was considered the handsomest 
man in the Stale; Mr. Cary, Charles Lewis, Pat Loek- 
heail, McCarty, Carter, Waller, Piersons, and others—all 
good men and true, who are trained, like the Spartan 
youths, to ride and to shoot, if not to speak the truth, were 
there. Their lines were cast in pleasant places, and each 
day was made to contribute something to their enjoyment. 
1 know that tlwre is many a modem Timon who will de¬ 
liver his philippic against the luxury, the selfishness, and 
the inordinate pride of those spoiled darlings of fortune; 
hut look on the reverse side of the picture, and watch them 
When that dark, fearful, period that tried men’s souls came, 
and you see that those dandified youths fought like the 
Paladins ol old, and founded a mighty republio. It is your 
pet thoroughbred leading a life of idleness, that we trust 
tor a long gallop when life is at stake, and it is this dandy 
blooded horse which runs the sixteen-mile race, and not 
the hard worked carthorse, or the common roadster. So 
this “cocked hat gentry,” haughty, overbearing, luxurious, 
and unthinkingly selfish in the time of peace aud plenty, 
when the ordeal came, met it with no bending, no in-cak¬ 
ing, no flinching, and whether with Lewis in the mountains, 
with Braddockin the forests, or with Marionin the swamps, 
did their part so well, that impartial history has enshrined 
their memories as heroes, aud they live ‘ again with us in 
painted portrait or sculpured stone. It was a very pleas¬ 
ant life to them, and their world was very fond of them, as 
it always is when a maa’s existence is perfectly smooth. 
It was the tour on the continent, the winter at Williams¬ 
burg, dinner at the Rawleigh tavern, and dinner unap¬ 
proachable everywliere. The solid silver pinto, the sweep¬ 
stakes of the course, yachting in the Chesapeak Bay, 
Shooting over tlieir dogs iu October, the glorious “Meet” 
at Christinas, when the whole land was given up to 
deviltry and love-makiug, with no drawbacks to worry the 
mind or dull the spirits. 
But the hunt begins. The master of the hounds ap¬ 
proaches Lord Fairfax and whispers in his ear. Putting 
his sliver horn to bis lips, his Lordship blow a blast so loud 
and clear, that it echoes through the woodlands, aud makes 
every hound give tongue. Waving his hand to the 
gentlemen to follow, he gallops off, and beliind him canter 
the riders, their costumes mingling in different hues and 
gleaming BgAiust the back ground of the forest. The 
hounds are uncoupled and spread out like a Ian, dashing 
through fen and held, searching for a frail. And as the 
pack scatters over hill and dale one deep hay announces 
that the scent is hit off and the chase has begun. 
Alexander Hunter, 
[To be continued.] 
tin IU tucu 
uy your s’nde you are slowly trolling along, watching 
the pole-lips -md wishing for a strike, aud is sung to the 
air ol the ehoru, 01 taat once popular melody, which “has 
gone where the gOot (songs) go;” and which refrain 
s this, (I wish 1 knew . 
of it):— 
‘ T,,';™ -i 011 6 et a "hits cm, dim, shave him. 
When yon jset a black cm, ' ’ 
Slcln him to the tall.” 
I am not responsible for the profanity ot mis ditty 
guides aTe not preachers. 
WHEN YOU GO A FISHING. 
When yon catch a lake trout, sn»e him, save him; 
keel Win up steady, and liiiff him in the boat 
When you hooK a brook trout* Have him, enve him; 
When you get a big one Its time to wet yo*r throat. 
When you catch a shiner, gang him, gang him; 
.Save him for your gang hooliB, and imt him In your poll. 
When you catch a big chub, dang him, dang him r 
lie pulls like a laker, and you’ll think you’ve got a whale. 
When you catch a bullhead, akin him, akin him; 
L*ok out for his horns, and skin him if you cun. 
When you catch a mnjlsh, sling him, sling him; 
Hb’h scales, bones aud spikes, and isn’t worth a d-n. 
When you see a bullfrog, jerk him, jerk him; 
Put the worm to his nose, then jerk him with your hook. 
When yon see a “venzon,” shoot him, shoot him; 
When you shoot aYenson, send me some to cook. 
I’ll paint another picture for my young friends to contem¬ 
plate: 
As I said, I came for rest. Imagine the amount I got 
when “shim tied out,” lying five of us abreast on the hard 
ground, with balsam leaves making one place soft, while 
balsam limbs made auotlier rugged; the night hot, rainy, 
and calm; the “glorious campfire” of huge logs roasting 
one’s steaming hoots, which you dare not take off for fear 
of never getting them on again; your head snug up 
against the rear log, from which spring the rafters, which, 
covered with spruce bark, protect you from wet when it 
don't rain ; legs and bade aching from your unwonted toil; 
hands tingling from punkie biles; nerves wincing as the 
tuneful mosquito mnkes sweet melody near your ears, and 
you strike wildly, forgetting the log, as well as the cer- 
taluty that you will not hit the enemy, and repenting 
your forgetfulness; pure, heaven-sent water trick¬ 
ling iu Tittle rills through the crevices, in your 
bark canopy, and moistening and cooling your fe¬ 
vered skin, even through the heavy flannel shirt and coarse 
trousers that are doing duty as night-gown. As I began, 
I repeat: Imagine the rest—mine and of the miseries—al¬ 
though neither were imaginary. 
To he sure we had resources. An old pipe steadily and 
persistently smoked, a fresh load lighted from the old 
coals, throughout every minute of the long hours due to 
sleep, would, in a measure, assist the tar aud oil, with 
which, at brief intervals—time being called by the mos¬ 
quitos—you aunoiut freely the exposed cuticle. But your 
own tobacco won’t do; in the fumes of my mixed Lone 
Jack and Vanity Fair, which rose in fantastic wreaths be¬ 
tween my tired eyes aud the glowing flame, the wicked 
mosquitos hovered, like flies in a sun-glade, and seemed to 
relish the fragrant incense no' less than myself. 'Twas 
only when I filled with rank old cavendish that, as my 
tongue and throat gave way, so did the enemy. 
“How dear to my heart was my room at Dan Budesos, 
As Inglorious retreat brought it back to my view ” 
When rag carpet, wash-bowl and pitcher, good bed, and 
closed windows ceased to be necessaries, and were eleva¬ 
ted into luxuries. How different realily is from even a 
true description of it! Ho doubt, if I should live to go 
through it, and write my experience in a nice HI,tie book, 
or in your columns, and head it "Six Weeks in a Shanty; 
or Camp Life in Ihe Wilderness,” lots of your renders, or 
mine, would envy me as a man who, in spite of the prov¬ 
erb, “Mau never is, but always to be blest,” (is ilnita 
proverb?) has been blessed. Before I’d earn that title, 
though, I'd risk the other thing. Iu spite of that rough 
part of my experience, I did get the rest—not physically, 
for that I had had too much of, lmt menially— 
with no care or cause of anxiety, farther than the hope that 
the morrow would prove a “good day,” and if it did'nt I 
could’ut help it, and need not worry about means of preven¬ 
tion or cure. I had but to make sure that I forgot none of 
my individual tackle when at early dawn I left my com¬ 
fortable bed, for the lake. My guide looked out for the 
rest. He woke me up—for although, when by my side in 
the shanty, he incurred nry resentment by quietly sleeping 
throughout the night -when I was denied the blessing—yet 
the morning bout did for him what Hies, punldes, and 
mosquitos, endeavored in vain to accomplish, and started 
him from his Blumbers, at any hour I had named. And 
there was little to forgot. My coifee was ready, and my 
rod, reel, line, and spoon, were all in one. All I needed 
was the fish, aud I went for them, with the pleasures of 
hope ou my morning’s walk to the Landing, those of 
memory full oft when I returned thinking of the “good 
strikes” 1 had had and missed. 
There are pleasant inns in the woods. After a long ride 
on a fair road through dense forests, where you can hardly 
believe that you ate in the heart of the Empire State, a 
turn discloses a blue lake, wild many acres of cleared 
laud, dotted with comfortable little houses. Amid them 
towers a three story building of wood, painted white, 
verandahs surrounding two stories, a pleasant little oval 
park with shady maples in front, and on-the porch, rising 
to welcome the tired traveler, as the stage drawn by 
“Reube Willard’s” lusty team dashes np with that last 
spurt peculiar to the true stage driver, and which he al¬ 
ways lias left to come in with, "Steve” .Andrews, the 
ever obliging host appears. Conducted at once to a pleas¬ 
ant well-furnished room, you forget almost that you are in 
the woods; but a glance from one window at the beautiful 
lake, from another at the dense aud apparently iopenetra- 
ble primeval, quickly convinces you; and when at table 
you indulge, beyond your ideas of your capacity, in fresh 
trout, cream, mountain strawberries, <fcc.. and when in sea¬ 
son, venison, parlridges.and woodcock, and after your pipe, 
retire to a bed wliere yon need the- blankets which for so 
many hot nights in the city you had dispensed with, anil 
sleep au unbroken sleep, then you get the rest you came 
for, and with it the health you bad thought gone forever. 
In my next I will tell you’all ubout the way of getting to 
this resting place, what we do here, wlial sport we have, 
and give you a summary of the other good places in the 
neighborhood. Piseco. 
Piseco Lake, June Z8th t 1878. 
For Forest and Stream, 
CAMPING UNDER THE PALMETTOS. 
W E were at Enterprise, Florida, on the St Johns 
River. Our party consisted of three gentlemen 
and two ladies. We had talked some time about-camp¬ 
ing, and at last determined to start the next morning. We 
procured two good boatmen with their boats, and embark¬ 
ed our “traps," such as guns, cartridges, flour, frying pan, 
sun-shades, books, gloves, rubber hoots, and many more 
things requisite lor the expedition. We finally started 
with three persons in one boat and four in the other. It 
was glorious as we rowed across Lake Monroe on the way 
down the river, where the lies!, hunting and fishing was. 
We soon reached the narrow stream with trees overhang¬ 
ing it, and long gray moss dipping gracefully to the lip lit 
breeze which waved it backward aud lm-ward in the sun. 
It looked like l'airy land. 
Now llie excitement begins. Far ahead we see an mu. 
gMor sunning himself; quietly we approach, hut just as 
we got near enough to shoot, he gently slides oil into the 
water, and a few bubbles show Unit he is too far out of 
reach to think of getting him, so on we go, eagerly look¬ 
ing out for more. Paroquets, ducks,-cranes, red-winged 
black-birds, and buzzards fly through the trees and over 
the swamps. We shoot aR nniuyas come near enough, but 
cannot stop long, us our camping ground is thirty miles 
from Enterprise. Home distance down the rive: we met 
the steamer, aud had to row into the bushes to •’el- it pass. 
After we had started again a large flock of pn-'oquets flew 
over, soreamiug at the top of their voices. 
It was getting dark when ive pulled up at the very pret¬ 
ty place which was to be our campground, and it was 
some time before we could find anything to make afire 
with, but at last came across some dry reeds, which made 
a bright blaze, aud we soou found wood. Presently I be 
other party came, and we* set to work to build a palmetto 
hut, which was, to say the least, rural. One of ihe men 
cut forked sticks and stuck them in the ground; then he 
laid the oars across them, and on the lop and sides tied 
palmetto. It, fell down once, nut was soon re-built, and 
then we began to think of supper. What a meal it was I 
A little selt-raiBing flour mixed with water and put. in a 
pan, which was placed on Mo lire aud allowed to remain a 
few minutes. When it -fas taken off the bread, ot rather 
the warm dough, was put in a tin plate, and the pan was 
filled with frying fisk. Coffee, prepared with condensed 
milk, completed the supper, which we sat around ou the 
ground, too hungry to think of diit or mosquitoes, of both 
of which we had en abundance. While we were thus 
busy we saw a boat approaching, and a stranger landed, 
who politely infmnfld us that we were on his ground at a 
place called Blue Springs, one of the most beautiful spots 
on the St. Johns River; and l-hat he had come over to send 
us all awsy, as he had promised a genlleman who 
camped there every year not t-o let any one else use the 
ground; but as there were ladies in the party we were 
quite welcome. Presently two of his daughters came 
oyer, and wanted ns to spend Lhe night at their house, but 
we said “No indeed! We came to Tough it.” Fresh wood 
was pat on the fire, and we all sat round, telling stories— 
"stories” in both senses of the word. Such feats in shoot¬ 
ing aud fishing! At last we all got sleepy, and our visitors 
left, telling us”to take care for snakes. 
After spreading grey moss on the ground in the hut, and 
laying a rubber blanket on the top of it, we all turned in— 
the ladies in tbe hut and the gentlemen around the fire. 
