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Terms, Five Dollars a Year. } 

 Ten Cents a Copy. J 



NEW YORK, THURSDAY, NOV. 13, 1873. 



\ Volume I, Number 11, 

 j 103 Fultun Street. 



For Forest and Stream. 

 HUBERT THE HUNTER. 



LORD Hubert lived, long years ago, 

 In good King Pepin's reign, 

 The lighest heart and heaviest hand 

 In all broad Aquitain. 



He loved his home, he loved his king, 



He loved a winsome face 

 He loved right well his noble self— 



But better loved the chase. 



The foremost in the knightly joust, 



The lirst in hunting train ; 

 The bravest brand in all the land 



Was crossed with his in vain. 



Small favorites with Hubert bold 



Were bookish clerk and priest; 

 And some he chafed when sport was barred, 



By frequent fast and feast. 



'Twas In the blessed Lenten time, 



The holiest week of all; 

 The silence of the Day of Woe 



Eell like a funeral pall. 



No joy-bell rang, no light was there, 



Nor sight or sound of mirth; 

 The sadness of the Sacrifice 



Was on the mourning earth. 



By holy men, in penance garb, 



The shrouded cross was borne, 



When o'er the hill rang loud and shrill 

 A merry bugle horn. 



The baying of a hound boomed loud 



Along the distant road ; 

 With bow and spear and hunting gear, 



Lord Hubert reckless strode. 



With mock obeisance, spoke the knight: 



•'Good father, ban me not: 

 No saint nor Pharisee am I, 



But sinful man, God'wot. 



"But deeds of grace may wash out sin— 



I pledge a hunter's word, 

 The fattest buck in gloomy Hartz, 



This night shall grace thy board." 



Then answered mild the holy man: 



"Forbear the awful crime, 

 Of him who sheddeth sinless blood. 



Tn holy Easter time. 



"An erring servant of the Lord, 



Nor ban nor curse may say, 

 But may the gentle Christ forgive 



Thy foul affront, I pray. ' ' 



The town is passed; the forest deep, 



IS still and cold and gray! 

 Bo silent, you might deem the brutes 



Revered the sacred day. 



Now deeper, deeper grows the wood, 



And darker grows the gloom ; 

 And colder chills assault, the heart, 



lake bfeezes from the tomb. 



The broken twig hangs motionless, 



The budding leaf is still; 

 The sunless winter of the North, 



Is not more dark and chill. 



Lord Hubert bore the stoutest heart 



In all broad Aquitain, 

 Yet, but for very shame, had wished 



Him fairly home again. 



So deadly calm the awful wood, 



The winding of his horn 

 W&s lost in space; nor echo e'en 



Waa backward to him borne. 



"Good faith!'* lie cried; "the holy man 



Shall venison lack In-day.'", 

 When lo! before his startled gaze 



A quarry stood at bay. 



Stout Hubert drew a deadly shaft, 



His aim was duo and keen; 

 And fairer mark a hunter's skill 



Had seldom found, T ween. 



He drew the arrow to the head, 

 His aim was keen and true; 



Then sudden fell the bowjand shaft, 

 And fell stout Hubert too. 



For mid the branching antlers there, 



Upon a forehead white, 

 The symbol of the gentle Christ 



Was marked in dazzling light. 



At holy cross on beastly front, 

 The huntsman pressed the sod, 



And heard, like him of Israel, 

 The accents of a God. 



The joy-bells rang on Easter morn; 



The good folk held the feast, 

 And watched the conscious rising sun 



Dance gladly in the East.* 



Lord Hubert knelt in humbled heart, 



Aud prayed for grace to teach 

 The lesson taught by Heaven to him, 



Through brute's inspired speech. 



That gentle sport in season meet, 



Awakes not Heaven's wrath; 

 But wo the wretch for sinless life, 



Who no compassion hath. 



That bird and beast are in His care, 



Whose lives are but a span, 

 And he that wastes offendeth God, 



Who gave the breath to man. 



And honest sportsmen evermore, 



Are merciful indeed, 

 For good Saint Hubert blesseth him 

 Who heeds his gentle creed. 



J. J. RocttE. 

 *It is an old tradition that the sun dances with joy on Easter Sunday 

 morning. 



r ild ^iffe in <glaridn. 



CAMPING AMONG THE SEMINOLES. 



number two. 



The Search for Lake Okeechobee— Lost in the Cy- 

 press Swamps— Cattle Herders— Indian Parker's 

 'Honesty — Myriads of Game. 



AKE OKEECHOBEE is almost as little known now 

 as it was one hundred years ago, when it rejoiced in 

 the name of Mayaco. Then everything mysterious and 

 inexplicable was referred to Lake Mayaco. The source of 

 the river St. John's, even now unsettled, was said to be 

 there. Another river, the St, Lucie, had its rise there, and 

 strange tales were told of the wonderful lake by a Spanish 

 captive, who reached it by this river. The wonderful sa- 

 cred vulture of Bartram, so vividly described by that nat- 

 uralist, was said to be a resident of Okeechobee, and hasn't 

 been seen since its first description, a century ago. With 

 a few rare exceptions, during the Seminole war, Lake 

 Okeechobee has not been visited by white men. There is 

 no portion of our great western domain of the same area 

 so completely unknown to us. There the Seminole is said 

 to have his best plantations and choicest hunting grounds. 

 In the secure fastnesses of the Everglades he may bid de- 

 fiance to our largest armies, and laugh at every effort to 

 secure him. 



When I found myself within six miles of the great lake, 

 I thought that I should soon penetrate the dark belt of cy- 

 press that surrounded it and disclose some of the wonders 

 locked within its mysterious shores. I had the promise 

 from my Seminole guide that he would fetch me to its 

 shores ere another sun had set. Making every preparation, 

 the morning agreed upon I sought my guide. To my sur- 

 prise, he refused to go, alleging, as his only reason, that 

 Tiger wouldn't let him. All my persuasions were useless. 

 Offers of revolver, bowie knife, and money were alike un- 

 availing. Tiger was chief in the head chief's absence, and 

 could not be disobeyed. The reason of Tiger's veto, as I 



afterwards ascertained, was that I had not counselled him 

 first, and he felt affronted. At last a happy thought struck 

 me. Would he go within a mile of the lake'? Yes, he 

 would do that; and we were soon on the trail leading west- 

 ward. We passed through a small settlement of shanties, 

 the inhabitants of which had gone on a hunt, leaving all 

 their household goods stored away beneath the palmetto 

 thatch. Overbroad prairies wc travelled without seeing 

 an indication of life, and through pine barrens without a 

 single animal visible; all had been killed, probably, by the 

 Indians. Soon we left the deuse swamp that circled the 

 edge of the p.iney woods, and struck a wide stretch of prai- 

 rie extending north and south as far as the eye could reach. 

 West we could see the tall cypress said to border the lake. 

 Just as we reached a little clump of palmettos, about mid- 

 way the prairie, a thunder storm— such as only Florida is 

 capable of — burst upon us. For an hour the flood came 

 down, and drenched us and our goods, although we were 

 covered with the broad leaves of the palmetto. 



Soon it was over, and the sun came out, and there was a 

 solemn hush, broken only by a low, sullen roar, like the 

 roll of the sea, coming from the west. I knew without 

 other explanation what that was. It was the breaking of 

 the surf upon the shore of Lake Okeechobee. So near, 

 yet likely to remain as unseen as though I was a hundred 

 miles away, for my Indian guide refused to go further, and 

 to seek a trail was an almost hopeless task. * No present 

 would tempt him; no amount of persuasion move him. So 

 we left him to return to his camp, and pursued our wa\' to- 

 ward the north. All that afternoon we hunted for a trail 

 that would take us to the lake; but none was found, and 

 so we made our lire beneath a lone clump of pines at nio-ht 

 having accomplished nothing. Over thirty years before 

 had the troopers, hunting the Seminoles, camped in this 

 very place. There existed here but one trace of civiliza- 

 tion, and that was the old wagon trail over which the sup- 

 plies for Fort Van Swearengen and the lower forts were 

 drawn. Though unused since the Indian war, except by 

 some settler fleeing from the dread of conscription during 

 the rebellion, it still showed to the experienced eye where 

 the wheels had worn. How strange that impression should 

 remain so long! Though at lirst unable to discover the 

 slightest trace of it, I could soon follow its course almost 

 instinctively, as sometimes the evidence of its existence 

 were so indefinite that I could hardly tell what it was that 

 showed it. It might be a worn palmetto root, a different 

 kind of grass, or a slight depression in the ret rr rive soil- 

 sometimes, seeing it rods away, a close examination near 

 would fail to reveal its presence. Next mornino- we fol- 

 lowed the trail till it lost itself in a swamp, and then we 

 struck the piney woods, intending to swing around,till we 

 could fetch Fort Bassenger, on the Kissimer river. On and 

 on we went, till our passage seemed stopped by a black 

 deep creek, overhung with dark cypress, and swarming 

 with alligators. This creek was no doubt flowing directly 

 into Okeechobee, but, as much as I wanted to go with it 

 I was powerless for the want of a boat. There was noth- 

 ing for us but to cross it, though wc were obliged to swim 

 with the criticising gaze of dozens of alligators fixed upon 

 us, and dodge fallen trees and tangled vines as best we 

 could. Beyond was another swamp, and still beyond this 

 a broad stretch of blessed prairie. Over this we cantered 

 for miles, then through deep woods, now through swamps 

 belly deep in mud, and still no signs of the signal smokes 

 that were to indicate the hunter's camp at Fort Basseno-er, 

 Before night it dawned upon us that we were lost. Now 

 so long as a man will fight off the conviction that he is lost 

 there is hope that lie may eventually find his way out. But 

 my guide, no sooner than this idea had dawned upon him 

 gave himself over to the most unreasonable of actions and 

 doings. Heretofore I had trusted in him implicitly, but I 

 now saw that his reason was gone for the time, and my 

 heart sank. Yielding to my persuasions, he camped in a 

 palmetto clump, and we ate our last biscuit and piece of 



