^/ 



Terms, Five Dollars a Year, j 

 Ten Cents a Copy. f 



NEW YORK, THURSDAY, SEPT. 25, 1873. 



j Volume 1, Number 7. 

 | 103 Fulton Street. 



For Forest and Stream. 

 SEPTEMBER. 



Charmed is my eye to-day, 



As cooler breezes pla} r 

 Around my pathway by this mountain stream; 



Not yet has summer gone, 



Tho' days have rolled ns on 

 'Till harvest moon through clouds of Autumn gleam. 



But lingering with us still, 



Her voice among the hills, 

 With mellow tones of Autumn mingling sweet, 



C4ently as she glides away, 



And gone the summer day, 

 E're we have missed the music of her feet. 



Oh, golden harvest-time, 



Ye come with solemn rhyme, 

 To warn us that September of our life 



Shall come to us ere long, 



And hush the summer song, 

 And God shall garner ns from every strife. 



Oh bright September day, 



Fond memory is at play , 

 Among the many scenes that you recall, 



Fresh breezes breathing joy, 



Make me again a boy, 

 And waft away the clouds of sadness all. 



Now from the marshy ground, 

 With merry whistling sound, 



The snipe fly up in many a zigzag line- 

 In vain the wild ducks hide 

 In reede by river side, 



My trusty gun speaks out and they are mine. 



I feel the sluggish blood 



Go bounding like a flood 

 Back to a youthful heart again to-day; 



And such a moment's bliss 



Is years in world like this. 

 Oh, could we linger always by the way! 



Hiram E. Griffith. 



} awn the Motomnt. 



NO. I THE WATERING- PLACES. 



IN the summer months Washington resembles a deserted 

 village. The salary-grabbers, the Credit Mobilierites, 

 the Washington Tammanyites, the plethoric-pursed con- 

 tractor, the uppermost of Government officials; the design- 

 ing mammas, with marriageable daughters— in brief, shoddy 

 and the creme de la crime — flee from the heat and dust of the 

 Capital to Saratoga, Long Branch, Cape May, the Virginia 

 springs, and other "fashionable" resorts, for change of air, 

 fare, and dissipation. For the thousands whose occupa- 

 tions and purses will not permit of such extravagant pleas- 

 ures, there remains the Potomac— noble stream that it is— 

 bringing cool breezes to the feverish city, and nourishing in 

 its depths oysters, crabs, and the best of fish. I might tell 

 of the Little and Great Falls, above Washington, and of 

 the black bass fishing, but the caption of these papers for- 

 bids. Mine is the pleasing duty to tell of life down the 

 Potomac — of watering places unknown to the fashionable 

 world, but frequented by boating men. fishermen, and peo- 

 ple who feel most at home in their old clothes. The Wash- 

 ingtonian who can only spare an hour daily for recreation 

 may enjoy the cooj breezes of the river by taking the ferry 

 boat to Alexandria and return at a cost of twenty -five cents 

 for the round trip. He will pass and repass the navy yard, 

 will have glimpses of green hills, shady groves, rippling 

 water, white sails, puffing steam tugs, laden coal barges, 

 a fleet of shipping, and enjoy the while a pure air and deli- 

 cious breeze. Farther down the river are Glymont and 

 Marshall Hall, accessible by excursion boats and resorted to 

 by picnic parties and yachting parties. Here rum and riot 

 sometime prevail, but there are "select excursions," which 

 provide their own champftgne, and indulge in gentlemanly 

 intoxication by moonlight or otherwise. Of course there 

 are dancing pavillions, and hotels where meals and mixed 



brought in with the dessert, we walked down to the wharf, 

 drinks are supplied ; and here shad-bakes take place in their 

 season. 



Planked shad is a Potomac delicacy, and deserves brief 

 mention, e'en though the last roes of summer have disap- 

 peared from the larder. Imprimis, you draw a seine to 

 catch your shad. As this operation is not always success- 

 ful, it is well to have provided a supply of fish for the party 

 beforehand. Then you want a roaring fire, and some hard 

 wood planks, planed smooth. These planks are stood 

 against the bank, near the fire, until thoroughly heated. 

 Then the fish, which have been split, nicely cleaned, and 

 sprinkled with salt, are fastened to the planks, which arc 

 again placed against the bank, where the fire will cook and 

 nicely brown the shad. May the shadows of planked shad 

 never grow less. 



Of the best known summer resorts farther down the river 

 may be mentioned Colton's, Leonardtown, Blackstone's 

 Island, Piney Point, Marshall's, and Point Lookout, the 

 latter a point of land at the mouth of the Potomac, with a 

 splendid beach fronting on Chesapeake Bay. The attrac- 

 tions at all these places are boating, fishing, bathing, crab- 

 bing, and a fare composed almost exclusively of fish and 

 oysters. Save at Piney Point, the terms are very moder- 

 ate — $2 per day, $10 per week, and $30 to $35 per month. 

 Piney Point was quite a fashionable resort long before the 

 war, and has sometimes, though inaptly, been called the 

 Southern Long Branch. It has fallen somewhat into dis- 

 repute of late, partly through the unpopularity of its man- 

 agers, but largely because of those ravenous pests, the 

 mosquitoes, who are no respecters of persons. The cot- 

 tages and hotel buildings stand in a grove of pkie trees near 

 the beach, and in the rear is a pool of brackish water. 

 This swamp and the surrounding foliage are thought to ac- 

 count for the prevalence of mosquitoes, from which the 

 place is only free when a strong breeze blows up the river. 

 The Potomac at this point is eight miles wide, and a south- 

 erly wind creates quite a respectable surf. The beach is 

 somewhat abrupt, and therefore dangerous to those who 

 cannot swim, though I have never heard of any fatal acci- 

 dents here. The bottom is hard and sandy, but as one oc- 

 casionally encounters an oyster shell it is advisable to wear 

 bathing shoes. This is the only place on the river which 

 boasts of a tenpin alley and billiard table; but of other 

 amusements there is a painful dearth. You may catch 

 crabs and small fish from the wharf , but if you wish to 

 sail you must hire a boat at so much per hour; and during 

 the past summer, for weeks at a time, there were no boats 

 to be had for love or money. There is music and dancing 

 at night, an excellent table, and the arrival and departure 

 of the three or four steamers which ply up and down the 

 Potomac help to dispel the monotony. It will be seen that 

 Piney Point is no place for the sportsman or the lover of 

 aquatic sports. It would be a fashionable watering place 

 if it could, and put on airs, but during the past summer its 

 cottages were for the most part untenanted, and the season 

 was an utter failure pecuniarily. 



Point Lookout, according to the distance-table of the 

 steamer Lady of the Lake, is 113 miles from Washington, 

 at the mouth of the Potomac river. It is a watering place 

 gone to seed, but a top dressing of greenbacks would soon 

 cause it to blossom forth again, as the place has many natu- 

 ral advantages. A railroad to Washington is now in pro- 

 cess of construction, which will not only open up a new 

 country, but tend to build up Point Lookout as a winter 

 port for the shipment of fish, oysters, and produce. The 

 distance by the land route is much less than by the river, 

 and it is expected the journey from Washington to Point 

 Lookout Will be made on the railroad inside of three hours. 

 This will enable business men who send their families here 

 for the summer to run down at night and return in the 

 morning, or, at least, to come down Saturday night and 

 remain until Monday morning. But for the check received 

 from the war Point Lookout would to-day be the most 

 prosperous watering place south of Cape May. It had 

 been laid out on a grand scale, and many of the improve- 

 ments completed. A hotel building had been erected, and 



there must have been between three and four hundred one 

 and two-story cottages. Walks, drives, ponds, and foun- 

 tains appear upon the lithographic plan issued by the pro- 

 prietors, but of these not a vestige is seen to-day. During 

 the war the place was taken possession of by the Govern- 

 ment, and used as a naval station and a prison pen. Whole 

 rows of cottages were burned in wantonness, or torn down 

 for fuel, and as no repairs have been made from that day 

 until this, the remaining buildings are in the last stages of 

 dilapidation and decay. The hotel building is barely habi- 

 table, and a two-story villa is in a fair state of preservation, 

 though nearly undermined by the waters of Chesapeake 

 Bay, which now wash up under the verandah; but the re- 

 maining cottages are leaky as seives, and ready to tumble 

 down. The property was sold for taxes during the war, 

 and bought by a Miss Baker, a hospital nurse, and one of 

 the strong minded. It is said she bid in the cottages at $1 

 apiece. This sale has been the cause of litigation ever 

 since, and has prevented any improvement or repairs. Be- 

 lieving possession to be nine points of the law, Miss Baker 

 has lived on in the main building, dragging out a precarious 

 existence by the rent of a cottage or two, and the "taking 

 in" of an occasional guest. 



I shall never forget my first visit to the place, a little 

 more than a year ago. The original wharf has nearly dis- 

 appeared, and one constructed by the Government during 

 the war, now used for the landing of passengers, is rotten 

 as punk, full of holes, and tottering to its fall. Yet upon 

 this dangerous and rickety structure our party of five — two 

 ladies and three gentlemen — was landed between twelve 

 and one o'clock one dark night. That we reached the shore 

 in safety was little less than a miracle. Then, heading for 

 a twinkling light in the distance, we walked ankle deep in 

 sand for a quarter of a mile or more, and entering a door 

 in a barn-like structure, which loomed up through the dark- 

 ness, found ourselves in a large, dimly-lighted room, which 

 we afterward learned was the dining-room. Here we met 

 the hostess, a gaunt, weather-beaten woman, in a dark dress, 

 which clung closely to her angular figure, and barefooted. 

 After some delay, a lantern was procured, and we were 

 marched up stairs to our sleeping 'apartments. The first 

 couple were assigned a room, and given a candle, stuck in 

 a goblet, to light them to bed, and there remained another 

 couple and the writer to be disposed of. We were finally 

 given a suite, and, the inner room containing a double bed, 

 the outer of course fell to my lot. The furniture of these 

 rooms was of the simplest description. The inner room 

 contained, beside the bed, a chair and an eight by ten mir- 

 ror, and the outer a single bed and washstand. But one 

 candle could be obtained for the party, and in undressing 

 by the light which shone through the transom I hung my 

 clothes on the floor and went to bed. In the morning, after 

 performing my ablutions, taking care to use but one end of 

 the solitary towel furnished, I passed the washstand into 

 the next room and received the mirror in return. At break- 

 fast we were waited on by the hostess herself, still bare- 

 footed, and the cook, who wore an apron fllthy beyond de- 

 scription. The bill of fare comprised some scraps of cold 

 fish, a dish of chicken legs, and a cold decoction of chick- 

 ory. Asking for a glass of water, we were told there were 

 no glasses (they were. all in use as candlesticks); but on in- 

 sisting some tepid water was brought in a teacup. During 

 the morning we went in bathing, and though assured there 

 were no sea-nettles in the vicinity, our party were all more 

 or less badly stung by them. An application of fresh water 

 is said to furnish instant relief, but this remedy being then 

 unknown to us we used sweet oil, without any perceptible 

 benefit. The beach is certainly a fine one in many respects. 

 It slopes down very gradually — indeed, one may wade half 

 a mile from shore — and there is of course very little under- 

 tow. The bottom is hard and smooth, but one frequently 

 encounters oyster shells, which cut the feet severely. An 

 expert swimmer would find little pleasure here, but for 

 women and children the bathing is excellent. After a din- 

 ner of chicken legs (there must be a peculiar breed of chick- 

 ens hereabouts) and some cold chicken soup, which wm 

 over which we had made the perilous passage of the night 



