Terms, Five Dollars a Year. | 

 Ten Cents a Copy. j 



NEW YORK, THURSDAY. AUGUST 10, 1876. 



i Volume 7, Number 1. 



1 17 Chatham 8t.(CityHallSqr.) 



For Forest and Stream. 

 CUSTER'S LAST CHARGE. 



BY STANLEY W002>. 



i) OSEBUD River, blush red 

 JLi/ As a full-blown rose of sorrow; 

 For by thy banks were they led, 

 Along thy banks marched the dead, 

 Whose yesterday found no morrow. 



Into the wildering West 



Rode they with sabre to shoulder, 

 Soldiers they were and the best, 

 Fearless were they, and the test 



Proved of the bold never bolder. 



Red shone the sun— blood red, 



Blood-like it gleamed in their faces. 

 Forin'd on that field of the dead, 

 ForuTd with their chief at the head, 

 Like statues they etood in their places. 



"Ready, Soldiers I Standfast!" 

 "Charge 1" Like avalanche crashing, 



Fierce as the terrible blast 



Of typhoon, forward at last 

 The troopers are fearlessly dashing. 



Rosebud River, blush red 



As a passionate rose of sorrow; 

 For by thy waves were they led, 

 And on thy banks marched the dead, 



Who waken not on the morrow. 



Rode they boldly to death, 



Sternly they galloped to meet hirn; 

 Sabres flashed whitely from sheath, 

 Crimsoned and fell in a breath, 



Vain the attempt to defeat him. 



For all, that into the fi^ht * 

 Rode gladly as riding to glory, 



Forever descended the night, 



Never re-glimmered the^light, 

 None rode back to tell us the story. 



When shall their glory go out, 



Their story be read by a Stoic? 

 Never, so long as a shout 

 Greets bravery. Never, I doubt, 

 So long as men love the heroic. 



For Forest and Stream. 



laazthtad %rikt mid ^foitfitg 



■» 



LET no one who may read the following account pro- 

 ceed to Moosehead at the present day expecting to 

 find the virgin forest that yet fringes its shores and covers 

 the neighboring heights tenanted by the grand animals which 

 were formerly so abundant; for I write strictly of things 

 as they were a quarter of a century ago, when the noblest 

 member of the deer tribe, from which the lake derives its 

 name, roamed the forests of Maine in countless numbers, 

 and to meet one on the banks of the streams tributary to 

 the lake was of such common occurrence as hardly to ex- 

 cite a remark. A late visit to Moosehead so forcibly im- 

 pressed me with the changes that had taken place in the 

 interval that I thought itrnight be interesting to many to 

 learn what a sportsman's paradise this district once was; 

 and, perhaps, also, they may be incited to renewed activity 

 in making greater efforts for the preservation of the moose 

 before it becomes too late, and the last survivor of these 

 splendid deer lays down his life amid the deep snows of 

 winter, beaten to death by the club of some wandering 

 savage, who, alas! is not always a descendant of an Indian 

 ancestor. 



It was at midnight following an August day a quarter 

 of a century ago, that the writer, with two friends, ended 

 a boat journey across Moosehead Lake, and leaped upon 

 the wharf at Kineo. A low, unpretending structure stood 

 upon a portion of the site now covered by the great hotel. 

 After a few sounding knocks Barrows, the landlord, made 

 Ms appearance, and having been ushered into comfortable 



rooms, we soon joined the rest of the inmates in the realm 

 of Somnus. 



Next morning bright and early found us up and outside, 

 anxious to take a look at our surroundings by daylight. 

 The view was the same (with perhaps the exception of one 

 or two small clearings) that meets the eye of the traveller at 

 the present day. Forests covered the hills and shores in 

 every direction, while behind the house, towered Mt. Kineo 

 with its precipitous sides, dwarfing all objects in its vicin- 

 ity. As I strolled down towards the lake I noticed, stand- 

 ing by the water, a man who will take a prominent part 

 in the remainder of this narrative. Rather short in stature, 

 hair well streaked with gray, quick in his movements, 

 with an eye at once restless and piercing, with a complex- 

 ion bronzed by exposure, and a form sinewy though slight, 

 he was the personification of the toughened, experienced 

 woodsman. 



How the time rolls back, until it seems but yesterday as 

 I thus recall the appearance of Uncle Ellis as he stood be- 

 fore me on that morning, and doubtless many of those 

 who have visited Kineo in later years will remember this 

 famous old moose hunter. I at once entered into conver- 

 sation with him, and our talk soon turned to the great 

 deer that were so numerous about the lake, for I was very 

 desirous of meeting with my first moose. 



" Is it a good time now for moose?" I asked. "Well, 

 it's getting on to the right time," he answered. "They 

 still come down to the water at night to feed on the lily- 

 pads and grass, and its likely enough I can find one. And 

 pretty soon the bulls '11 begin to run and then we can call 

 'em down to the shore and git a good shot at 'em. But 

 now the moon's full and the nights still warm, and it's a 

 good chance to kill one up Tom Heegan." 'Do you 

 think we cau get one tonight?" I asked, eager to start. "I 

 think I cau show you one, mebby," was, the cautious reply. 

 ' 'We can start towards evening, and paddle up Tom 

 Heegan, and look about us there, and like enough see one 

 of the critturs. Have you ever been much in a birch?" I 

 was obliged to confess my utter ignorance of that lively 

 craft, as those lying upon the shore were the first I had 

 seen outside of a museum. "You've got to keep plaguey 

 quiet in them things," he said, with a merry twinkle of his 

 eye "and your tongue right in the middle of your mouth, 

 or you'll get spilled out before you know where you are,'' 

 and then looking at me all over, he continued, "but I 

 guess you'll manage it; leastwise, we'll try it anyhow." 

 And so it was agreed forthwith that I should make my first 

 attempt that night at moose-hunting, introduced by Uncle 

 Ellis, than whom, as I afterwards learned, I could have 

 had no better sponsor. 



How long that day seemed ! and as the afternoon wore 

 on my impatience increased to be off. I was new to the 

 woods, and knew nothing of the things requisite to make 

 one comfortable during a night in the forest, and had made 

 no preparations for passing a night in the woods. About 

 sunset the old raan said it was about time for us to be off. 

 The birch, as it lay upon the water, seemed only wailing 

 for me to step in in order to throw me into the lake, as the 

 least touch swayed it about in a very ominous mauner; but 

 Uncle Ellis drew the stern on shore and sat astride of it, 

 thus holding the frail thing quite steady, while I crawled 

 along to^the bow, where I ensconced myself in a doubled- 

 up posture, like a tailor on a bench. The gun was then 

 passed to me, and the birch was shoved off. For a moment 

 while Uncle Ellis was settling himself in his place, I ex- 

 pected to take a header for the bottom, but when I found 

 the thing kept right side up, and, moreover, began to move 

 rapidly and easily over the water, my courage returned, 

 and I gradually shifted myself into a more comfortable 

 position. We soon passed around the rocky point in front 

 of Kineo, and the great lake lay all before us, way up to 

 the carry over the Penobscot. That was so distant how- 

 ever that the shore was merely indicated by a line of forest 

 that seemed to grow out of the water. We were gradually 

 approaching the opposite side of the lake, and in a short 

 time the birch was brought to the shore at the mouth of a 

 small stream. "This here," whispered Uncle Ellis, "is the 



Tom Heegan, and after we start up it you mus'nt say 

 nothing. Like enough you'll hear the moose if we git nigh 

 ary a one splashing in the water, but when I hear 'em I'll 

 just shake the birch a little, and then tell you when to shoot. 

 Here we go now," and with that the birch's bow turned 

 away from the shore and the boat glided up the stream, 

 seemingly of its own volition, for no sound of the paddle 

 was heard. The stillness was so profound that the plunge 

 of a musk-rat or the sound made by a trout fairly startled 

 me, and so wierd-like were our surroundings that I felt I 

 must be under the guidance of the dweller in the Dismal 

 Swamp, as 



" All night long by the fire-fly lamp 

 He paddled his light canoe." 



Occasionally the boat would stop, and we would listen 

 attentively for the splash of a moose as he walked in the 

 water along shore, but although I heard many curious 

 sounds my inexperienced ears refused to discriminate be- 

 tween the plunge of a musk-rat and the walk of a deer. 

 After having gone about half way up the stream the birch 

 halted once more. My heart by this time was thumping 

 like a trip hammer, and I felt sure if there was a moose 

 anywhere about he must certainly hear it and be off, and 

 as I was projecting how I must shoot to stop him in his 

 wild career, I felt the boat shake, and a low "hist" came 

 from the stern. I won't assert it for a fact, but my impres- 

 sion is my cap rose six inches above my head and remained 

 immovably fixed in that position, as each hair stood rigidly 

 on end, and both my ears curved forward. The boat glided 

 forward, and nearer to the shore, and then I caught for 

 the first time the splashing sound the wild deer makes as 

 he cautiously walks through the water when feeding. Still 

 the boat shot noiselessly forward. "Shoot," hissed Uncle 

 Ellis. Shoot what? I thought to myself, for I saw nothing 

 but the black shadows of the shore. However, I put my 

 gun up to my shoulder, and gazed with all my eyes over 

 the barrel, hoping to see something that I might particu- 

 larly shoot at, but I could distinguish nothing, for, although 

 the moon was shining brightly, the stream was narrow and 

 the trees stood closely together, so that everything was 

 buried in shadow. But the splashing became more and 

 more distinct, and drew nearer and nearer, and at last, with 

 my heart in my mouth, I distinguished a mass blacker 

 than the surrounding shadows, moving slowly along near 

 the shore. To cover it with my gun and pull the trigger 

 was the act of a second. I bright sheet of flame shot out 

 in front, effectually blinding me for a moment, a report, 

 startling a thousand echoes that seemed to carry the sound 

 all over the world, was followed by a tremendous commotion 

 in the water in front of me. In the midst of it all I felt 

 the birch backing out into the stream. I soon found my 

 voice, and asked Uncle Ellis "Didn't I hit him, where are 

 you goiug?" "Listen," he said. " Yes you hit him, I want 

 to hear what he does." After the first rush of the moose 

 on receiving my shot, "all had been still. We now heard 

 the beast cough and splash about a little way from the bank 

 in a marshy spot. "There," said Uncle Ellis, "do you 

 hear that; he's down. You shot him through the lungs, 

 and he's dying. We'll git him in the morning." "Why 

 wait for the morning, v I said. "I guess not," he replied; 

 "you don't catch this child going up to a wounded moose 

 at night. No, we'll just go below and camp, and come 

 back here and get him in the morning," and with that he 

 turned the birch around, and a short distance down we 

 both got out, a fire was made, and we sat down to have a 

 quiet smoke before turning in. I felt very anxious about 

 the wounded moose, fearing he would get away, % but Uncle 

 Ellis reassured me, at the same time warning me never to 

 go near a w'ounded moose. He told me one of his own ad- 

 ventures when he was younger and less cautious, wherein 

 a "bull" mose, which he had wounded and gone near, 

 jumped up, chased him to a tree, and fairly lifted him into 

 it by a toss of its head, the spread of the horns fortunately 

 being so great that their points passed each side of his 

 body. The moose kept him there for two hours, and was 

 lost at last. The fire soon began to burn law and we wen% 

 to sleep. 



