FOREST AND STREAM.' 



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Briii»iie«»=»-<M^»> 



MUGGINS DOES A HUNTING GO. ^ 



. 4 »i 



Mister Editeu: 



!S r eckst to ridin' a fast hoss ou a stepel chase, or set tin' 

 up o'nites with a purty gal, or goin' to 'lection, or gotten' 

 'pinted to a post-offis, there ain't nothin' I like better 'n 

 goin' a huntin'. I ken remember when I was a yuthe of 

 tender age. how fond I was of shatin' cats and hens and 

 other targets, and how scart my old gran'mother always 

 was for fear- the ball mite go round the target and hit the 

 cow, or break out the winders, or kill some other feller or 

 other; but the temptation to shute at somethin' was so on- 

 resistible that I pade little attention to the old lady's 

 scremes and shreeks, but banged away at everything shoot- 

 atablein the neighborhood, till I one day had the misfor- 

 tin' to shoot old Dekin Swipes in the leg (its a wonder I hit 

 it, and I don't think I would ef I'd shot for it) and then 

 there was a fuss. 



I was arrested for manslaughter in the forth degree, but 

 I noticed a good deal of winkin' goin' on, and I rayther 

 reckon the folks in the naberhood was mostly glad I'd shot 

 the old kanoodle, for they all hated him like pizen, an' so 

 they soon let me off with a verdick of acksidentle shutin', 

 but I want allowed to shute any inorc Dekins— not if they 

 node it. 



The greatest hunt I ever bed was one time when I started 

 out with Nick Bemis,one faul, for a week's shootin' in the 

 North woods. Well, it was jest— Did any you ever toy it? 

 You never ken tell how much sport you ken git out of a 

 gun till you try. I had a regular mocking-bird. She alius 

 spoke when she was askt to, and she was just a regular 

 buty and wade twenty-five pounds averdypoize, and no 

 mistake. 



When some 'o them wezles see that old gun pinted at 'em 

 they turned pail, like they thot it was a cannon. That 

 shows what sensible critters wezles is. 



Nick an' I started off as gay as two^ young buckanears. 

 Nick had a rifle that would put a bed on a woodchuck at 

 three hundred yards. Nick was a bang up shot, an' often 

 sed that nothin' but the confounded foarse o' gravity pre- 

 vented his puttin' a hole through the moon. 



You can jest imagine what a pare of Nimrods we was. 

 The air was crisp and clear, an' jest frosty enuff to make a 

 feller draw in a long breth an' feal how healthy he was. 

 We started off with our guns on our shoulders, as brave a 

 pair of hunters as ever put powder into a gun. There is 

 somethin' exileratin' in bein' a healthy feller, an' startin' off 

 on a frosty morning with your gun on your shoulder to 

 shute dears and ducks and bears and woodchucx and squir- 

 rels and bucks and other gaim. 



We walked about seven miles the first heat, and then we 

 spide a blew J setten' astride a bush fens, and we both 

 took ame an' fired together. No sooner did we fire than 

 the pesky bird flew- away. This give rise to a argument as 

 to which was the best shot; so we begun to blaze aAV%y at a 

 tree about ten yards off. After we'd fired about ten rounds 

 I managed to kill a hoss in a lot about forty rods to the 

 rio-ht of the tree, and then we took up our line of march for 

 some place where there was more mark and less hoss. I 

 always despized a hoss that would go sneakin' around in 

 front of a gun when shootin' was goin' on. 



Nick didn't hit anything— not even a hoss. I begun to 

 discount that yarn about knockin' a hole out of the moon. 

 When we first started out it was arranged that we should 

 dine off the first game we killed; but when it cum to eaten' 

 hoss I passed. Not bein' a French savong my edication in 

 the hoss eat in' line had been neglected. We had a little 

 hard tack an' sandwiches, however, so we made a meal of 

 that, an' then we started on again. 



At last Nick spied a dear. He did'nt say anything to me 

 —he was awful sly; but he edged around till he got me a 

 lookin' off in another direction, an' then he drew a bead 

 on the butiful gazelle an' fired. I turned round jest in 

 time to see the bark fly off past half a dozen trees, an' then 

 catchin' a glimpse of somethin' lyin' down behind a little 

 nole, I raised up my gun and blazed away too. I was 

 bound to have my share of the gaim, you see. 



When we got up to the animal we found it was a yearlin' 

 heifer that had strade off into the .woods the /winter before 

 an' got lost and dide. Thare want no fresh venzen about 

 it, We both smiled a kind of mournful smile at each 

 other, an' then we took up our line of march agin'. 



Somehow my gun grew heavy. I kept skiftin' it from 

 one shoulder to t'other an' a lookin' around for gaim. Thare 

 was plenty of ground burds an' chipmunx, an' now an' 

 then a snaik, but Nick an' I didn't want no such. We 

 was'nt out for no boy -shutin'; wbat we wanted was noble 

 gaim, like bucks an' eagles an' wolves an' bears. How 

 much I would have given then if I could have started up 

 an African lion, or a rinosseros, or even a noble bisun ! 



On Ave went, an' still no gaim. How heavy my gun 

 grew! Deeper and deeper into the woods Ave went, and 

 yet there was nothin' to be seen worth shutin'. Such luck 

 I never had before. Nick sed the same thing. 



"What kind of a country is this, enyway?" I asked, kon- 

 tempshusly. 



"I d'no," sed Nick, more forcibly than politely; "never 

 was here befol•e. ,, 



"Hark! What's that?" I asked, as a sound Jike distant 

 thunder smoat upon my ere. 



"Patridges, by Jingo!" sed Nick, looking round in every 

 direction and cocking his gun, ready for actior 



Directly we cairn upon the flock; but before we could 

 present an' fire they all flew away, and left us to diskuss 

 the question as to who first skart 'em off. 



We jawed ourselves into a plesant frame of mind, an' 



FISHING IN THE BAHAMAS. 



+ • 



EXTRACT FROM J. NEWTON WILSON'S JOURNAL WHILE 

 A/ SOUTH, IN 1862. 



' I remember with great pleasure the first time I ever vis- 

 ited the Bahamas, ^ur fleet steamship, the Margaret and 

 Jessie, w T as triumphantly paddling her way toward the 

 land of Abico. Numerous little silvery clusters, appaiiently 

 a long way off, suddenly arose out of the blue ocean before 

 us, and we knew them to be islands as if just born from 

 the bosom of the sparkling and peaceful sea. Charming 

 was the scene. Beaches, and little coves of marble white- 

 ness, abounding with thousands of God's handiwork. The 

 shells, which some 'norther' had hurled above high water 

 mark, while on their summit might be observed the useful 

 That Tree, or more aspiring Cocoanut, among which ex- 

 quisitely colored lizards harmlessly played, chasing each 

 other through the shrubbery. We anchored for a day at 

 Green Turtle Bay, and with some of the natives I went 

 fishing among the Islands near by. My oarsmen, who were 

 splendid specimens of powerfully built wreckers, pulled for 

 an hour, and then cast anchor over a dark bottom, for in 

 every instance where I have fished in the West Indies the 

 waters were pellucid and the bottom of the sea clearly 

 visible. Our craft moored, the darkies took in each hand a 

 conch, and striking one against the other the shells broke 

 in small fragments and slowly sunk, thus causing the fish 

 to assemble and await the bait, like chickens lingering for 

 crumbs. The bait, which was conch meat, they ravenously 

 seized, and in many instances when three or four men were 

 engaged hauling in the beautiful victims, one of the crew 

 was reserved with a bright and slender lance or harpoon to 

 drive off the young, and sometimes old and vicious sharks 

 that lurked about, awaiting a chance to lunch on the fish 

 after we hooked them. 



Two hours' work and our boat was well laden with nu- 

 merous varieties of the inhabitants of these waters, some 

 of which the negroes called jewfish, turbot, red jacks, mud- 

 fish, snappers, grunts, market fish, demmies, and last and 

 best of all, the delicious grouper, more than equal to the 

 rock cod while fresh, 



West' India fishermen use gre,at>uition to avoid casting 



then we toddled on agin'. I never knew a gun to gro so 

 hevy as mine did. I trie-d every kind of way of carryin' 

 it, an' still it Avas hevy. About this time we cum in site of 

 the lake," an' right out, about forty rods, was the biggest 

 flock of dux I ever se.2. We krawled*£along kautiously an' 

 got a good ame an' fired together at the word "three." The^ 

 dux turned round as if they was a lookin' for th^ bullets, 

 an' begun to swim torge us. We loaded up an' blazed 

 away agin'; the dux rather seemed to like it, for they kept 

 on torge the bank, an' when they got so near we could al- 

 most reach out an' knock 'em down -vith our 'gun stocks, 

 we fired agin'. This offended the dux so much that they 

 all flew away; but nerry a] one was shot, so we had no 

 gaim to eat yet, an' the shaids of nite was closin' in on us, 

 as the ploit says. 



Kold, hungry an' weary, we kurled ourselves down by 

 the root of a tree an' covered ourselves with leaves an' fell 

 asleep. I dreamed I was in the Saint Nicholas Hotel, in 

 the best room in the house, an' that Nick was carryin' a 

 cannon on his shoulders over to Hoboken. Having satis- 

 fied my thirst for vengeans by respeatin' this dreme about 

 seventy-five times, I woke up and found it was day lite, an' 

 Nick already up an' takin' site at somethin', an' about to 

 fire. I couldn't see what it was, but determined to be even 

 ivith him. I amed the same way he did, an' Ave fired one 

 aster the other — bang ! bang ! 



Then I herd a yel that maid my hair run cold an' my 

 blood turn gray. Nick sprang up, while every hair stood 

 either on one end or the other, and shouted at me : 



"You've killed an Injun!" 



"Whoop! whoop! yelled the dead Injun agin'. ' 



I waited to hear no more, but seizin' my gun, I started 

 for some other lokality jest about as fast as I could dig 

 through the brush. I think I ran about five miles before 

 breakfast, an' then I struck a clearin' Avhere there Avas a 

 plenty of blackberry bushes, an' maybe I didn't sail in — 

 no! I think I eat about seA r enteen quarts, an' then I 

 felt easier in my mind. If I couldn't shoe t gaim, I could 

 eat berries — if I could only find them — sooner than starve 

 to deth. Hoav glad an' thankful I Avas that blackberries 

 couldn't fly away. 



Then I shouldered that heavy old gun agin' an' started 

 back for the woods, expecting every minute to meet a ded 

 Injun or some other object of horror. Hevier and hevier 

 grew that old gun as I staggered along through the Avoods, 

 and still no gaim. 



At last, by the merest chance, I came out into cleared 

 land agin', an' found myself into civilization once more, 

 an' there, rite before me, stood Nick Avith a big deer on his 

 shoulder an' a grin on his ugly mug. 



"Hoav are you, ded Injun?" sed he. 



"You don't mean to tell me that was a deer that yelled 

 like that?" sed I. 



"Certainly not," sed he, "you killed the Injun an' I 

 killed the deer." 



Nick always lies so like the old scratch I couldn't tell 

 Avhether to believe him or not. 



However, we maid up our minds Ave had shutin' enuff, 

 an' so Ave bee-lined for home, an' by the time Ave got there 

 that old gun of mine Avade over a thousand pounds. I 

 wouldn't carry it round for another day for all the gaim 

 that ever Avas invented, lions an' bisuns an' injuns thrown 

 in. Tours satisfactorily, Ephraim Muggins. 



their lines on Copperas Banks. 1 have seen negroes be- 

 come blind for over a clay from partaking of the flesh of 

 fish fed in these poisonous grounds. To my taste the fresh 

 fish of the Bahamas are finer than those of our Bay of 

 Fundy, and the natives cook them excellently, served 



with Spanish sauce and a golden lime. 



***. — 



A WEEK AMONG THE PARTRIDGES.* 



Editor Forest and Stream :— 



The hazy mists of Indian ' summer admonished us that 

 uoav was the time" for the most beloved of all the sports of 

 the field, and a few hurried preparations found a party of 

 four jolly but eager sportsmen on their way to the famous 

 partridge fields of Charles county, Maryland. • Ah! how 

 glorious these golden days of the yen-, with sky and cloud, 

 forest and field in their richest autumn dyes mingling in 

 melancholy harmony. 



The first rays of daAvn scarcely blush the east before tty? 

 stubbles are reached. The dogs — see Iioav they bound, 

 quartering their ground exactly. There! He stands, while 

 from afar another catches the faintest scent of the hidden 

 covey and arrests herself in an instant. Hoav beautiful 

 they look, motionless, transfixed. No pencil less gifted 

 than Landseer's could do justice to that scene. Slowly you 

 approach. A moment more — a Avhir, and with lightning- 

 speed down the valley to yonder brook with* overgrown 

 briar they all wing their way. No, not all; one less, which 

 faithful Nellie lays at your feet. He is a fine bird, and 

 right well have you shot to single him out from the rest. 

 You have marked the spot where they stopped. Noav comes 

 the sport. Eagerly you press on. Your friend takes one side 

 of the branch and you the other, while in the centre Reno 

 and Nellie sloAvly work. Stop! they stand simultaneously. 

 Mark! and a partridge darts from the covert, which you r 

 companion cuts down in fine style. A step further and 

 another. This time it is your luck. He goes Avhizzing and 

 it is yours. Again and again the unerring nose marks the 

 place where the couching game is ready to spring, and 

 again and again, with varying success you stop midAvay in 

 his flight this swiftest of birds. A count between you 

 shows ten birds. It is time to desist; the balance must be 

 left. You call your dogs off. It is yet early, and in the 

 distance another field ghoAvs birds must be there. Yes, 

 you are not mistaken. The kindly farmer in gathering his 

 rich harvest, like Boaz, Avas not unmindful of those depend - 

 ent on his bounty. There they go, dashing down, snuffing 

 the wind. Already the} r have changed their face from 

 head erect to nose close to the ground and tail vigorously 

 wagging from side to side. They are trailing the birds. 

 Let them alone, they Avill soon make them out. Yes, there 

 they are, there is no mistake. What marvellous instinct, 

 Avhat intelligence! Advance cautiously, they Avill not 

 flush the game. This time they take to the adjoining 

 field, covered with tall sage grass and a few scattering pines, 

 where they hope to hide in security. Alas! they are mis- 

 taken. You pursue. What a magnificent field for them; 

 the beau ideal of the partridge sportsman. Hoav the dogs 

 go to work, and point after point with unobstructed aim 

 gives you an opportunity to try your highest art. My 

 friend, think not it is work for the merest tyro; a keen eye, 

 a steady nerve, an instinctive response of finger are neces- 

 sary to bring them down in fine style. And then how 

 enamoured you are with your, own skill. It is already 

 eleven o'clock, and the warm sun has driven the birds to 

 some shady nook or stream. Let us go likewise; it is useless 

 to hunt until tAvo when they will return for their evening 

 meal. By the side of some ancient oak, from whose roots 

 gushes a limpid spring of cold, delicious water, you lunch 

 and smoke and talk, until the shadows of eventide com- 

 mence to lengthen themselves over the field. The work 

 begins again, and in love with nature, in love with your 

 noble setters, in love with yourself, you shoot through the 

 purple sunset beyond the hills, through the mellow twi- 

 light, through the deepening dusk which has come too 

 soon, while ever and anon the only sound which breaks the 

 stillness is the plaintive fraternal note of some more fortu- 

 nate one calling his brother, now lost to him f oreA r er. Tired 

 and yet invigorated, you reach home long after dark, where 

 your companions are already waiting. Soon the groan ina- 

 board is spread, and you amaze yourself Avith an appetite 

 unknown to city life. The evening is spent before the 

 blazing fire, and as you sit in semi circle, with its glowing- 

 flames reflected from each ruddy face, you recount the 

 many incidents of the day— this magnificent point of 

 Nellie, this astonishing retrieve, and that wonderful lono- 

 shot, or vary the occasion with a friendly game of euchre 

 the consoling pipe, and if you have been thoughtful enough,' 

 with a glass of nut brown ale, until the old clock on the 

 stairs tells you it is time for bed. And then such refreshing- 

 sleep ! 



So day after day passes, each like the preceding, and yet 

 each different, and you return home a stronger and may 

 perhaps a better man. s. L. P. 



*The partridge of Maryland is the.quail of the Eastern States. 



-+*+~ . 



—Years rush by us like the wind. We see not whence 

 the eddy comes nor whitherward"it is tending, and we seem 

 ourselves, to witness their 'flight without a sense that we 

 are changed. And yet time is beguiling man of his strength 



as the winds rob the woods of their foliage. Walter 



Scott. 



— , -*-•*> _ 



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