322 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



white, that fell from crown to heel, like a shroud ; the 

 awful, superhuman statue, remain impressed upon my 

 memory with a vividness that can still reproduce the chills 

 that crept up and down my youthful spinal marrow when- 

 ever I think of it. By decrees I began to note that the 

 gaze of the colossus was steadfastly fixed in a direction 

 away from me. Words cannot convey the relief I experi- 

 enced as this discovery dawned upon me. With it, too, 

 came a renewal of hope; and a partial restoration of the 

 courage of which I stood so sadly in need. "I can get home, 

 after all," I said to myself; "I can just leave the road right 

 here, cross the corner behind it, and fetch out on the main- 

 road 'way past it, and then won't I leg it for dear life! 

 But O-o-o-o-oo, if it slwuld happen to look round when I'm 

 out there in the clear starlight ! Nevertheless,! determined to 

 attempt it. Still cautious, however, I went on all-fours, crept 

 out of the road, through the fence — for my life I durstn't 

 think of climbing it — rose to my feet, and struck a bee-line 

 across the lot at the best pace I could get up in the fresh 

 and unbroken snow. Never was an enemy's rear more 

 successfully turned. Not once did the monster change his 

 fixed line of outlook. I reached the other fence, which 

 emboldened by success, I leaped with much bravado, and 

 found myself safe on the straight road home, the lights 

 wherof gleamed encouragingly in the distance. On that 

 well-beaten track, I picked up my heels and ran till I had 

 well entered the outskirts of the town, putting a good thi ee 

 quarter mile between me and the goblin sentinel at the lone 

 and gloomy turning. 



How vast a difference in the seeming of things, by night 

 and day. As I neared the haunted corner on Monday 

 morning in the strong ruddy light that precedes sunrise, 

 an aspect of cheerfulness had displaced the gloom and 

 horror of Saturday night. The bright green of the pines 

 alone, would have given life to a dozen landscapes, while 

 the sleety covering of the old, familiar trunk of the light- 

 ning blasted birch at the cleared corner, was overlaid with 

 a flashing diamond net work from Jack Frost's beautifying 

 fingers. That poor old lonely ruin of a once magnificent 

 tree — there hung a pathos about its thunder-scarred bole, 

 and piteously out-flung arms, that never failed to touch 

 my childish heart, and win from my pensiveness a mo- 

 ment's regard of pity and wonderment; and lo! this morn- 

 ing, a new feature added to my old familiar ensemble. A 

 pole — a fence pole — reared against its lofty side ; the' work, 

 doubtless, of some boy, who aspired to reach the snow- 

 cushioned top of the broken column, but must have found 

 his improvised ladder all too short, for the rounded swell 

 of the cap of snow was everything intact. But that fence' 

 pole was a revelation! I said some naughty words and 

 flew at it like a wildcat; I kicked it down; I kicked it 

 ignominiously clear across the road; and know not how 

 much farther I should have kicked it, but that I discover- 

 ed that my toes were getting the worst of it. That single, 

 unfamiliar feature in the gloom of night, had been the 

 means of "scaring me out of a year's growth." 



For Forest and Stream. 



AND 



MASCULINE HOUSEKEEPING 

 QUAIL SHOOTING. 



IT is the year of our Lord 1876; Thanksgiving is just 

 two weeks ahead; the wife and the babies have flitted 

 home to the grandpa's — shall take my Thanksgiving dinner 

 with them; meanwhile I am to board myself, a very simple 

 matter. Any man of ordinary intelligence can do the cook- 

 ing for one with very little trouble, and live like a prince 

 besides. Many invitations to dinner and supper have I 

 had — I respectfully declined them all. The next morning 

 I waited for the milkman before getting up. Slowly eight 

 o'clock came, and then nine o'clock — no milk for coffee. 

 I gQt up, put it to stewing over the gas, and drank it with- 

 out milk — coffee and crackers is not a bad breakfast. I 

 don't care much for breakfast anyhow. Just as I had 

 finished the last mouthful, Mr. Schneider, the milk provider, 

 came around. With much trouble I hunted up a tin pan 

 wherein to put it, finding in my researches two pans 

 nearly full — had a good supply ahead. Dinner time came. 

 The butcher's is but a step — ten cents in sausages will make 

 me two meals, nutritious and easily prepared. Filled the 

 kitchen stove up with charcoal to get it well agoing; put 

 half the sausages into the spider and set them to frying; 

 then went to pulling potatoes, about a peck of which I 

 found in the cupboard ready boiled. The sausages soon 

 began to siz and splutter. I stirred them, and they 

 spluttered worse than ever. I took the carving knife and 

 speared a hole in each one of them— no improvement; 

 moved the potatoe business out into the woodshed. The 

 sausages commanded the four points of the compass and 

 all the kitchen. I calmly peeled potatoes and let them 

 splutter, bound to have sausages for dinner since I had 

 set about it, and bound to have them cooked, too. Pota- 

 toes peeled; taking the wash-boiler cover for a shield, I 

 managed to set them to cooking in the other spider; put a 

 mince pie in the oven; sat down in a crack of the wood- 

 shed door to watch progress and to study a little. 



How do the women-folks manage about the splutter? 

 I never noticed any grease spots upon the kitchen ceiling 

 before. Couldn't they be packed in tin cases? A sure 

 remedy, if they wouldn't bend up. Tied a fork to the hoe- 

 handle, and fished them out one by one. They were very 

 well done upon one side. Directed my attention to the po- 

 toes, which appeared to have grown to the bottom of the 

 spider. I spaded them up with a knife, and soon they 

 were upon the table with the sausages. 



Had an elegant dinner— brought ©n the mince pie for 



dessert. It was in a condition to suit all tastes— hot upon 

 the top, ice-cold upon the bottom . For supper, tea cooked 

 in the oyster pail and crackers. Don't have to bother 

 about feeding the cat; can guage her appetite by the depth 

 of the milk in my three milk pans. 



Second day. — Breakfast, coffee with milk and crackers. 

 Looked forward with dread to dinner-time; but it came, 

 and I went to work. Put a mmce pie in the oven; put on 

 the potatoes in a basin; set the remaining sausages to 

 spluttering in spider No. 3— the last one I had— and made 

 rapid track* for the wood-shed, to meditate upon how I 

 should ever clean those three greasy spiders. Ate my 

 dinner, found the mince pie almost warmed through— 

 think about a week in tbe oven would have improved it — 

 put all the spiders upon the stove, filled them up with hot 

 water, opened all the draughts, and soon they were all 

 boiling. Of course the grease would rise to the top, and I 

 could pour it off — nothing more simple; but, alas! it 

 wouldn't do it. Three times did I fill them up, and boil 

 and pour off, and still the sides and bottoms were as oily as 

 the top of the stove or the kitchen floor. Wonder if potash 

 wouldn't do it; didn't feel like further experiment. Supper 

 time came — a happy thought struck me — "oysters!" Any- 

 body can cook oysters; no grease— no splutter. Went over 

 and got a can of "selects"; took half of them raw with 

 crackers and butter; didn't care for tea with the bother of 

 making it. The next morning set the remaining oysters 

 to cooking in the oyster pail over the gas; when they ap- 

 peared to be done, poured them out, rinsed out the pail, 

 put in my coffee, placed it over the flame and set down to 

 the oysters. Raw oysters are good; stewed are cot bad; 

 but, oysters half cooked! shades of Soyer and Professor 

 Blot, have pity on us! The oyster pail was occupied, so 

 could not re-cook. Pussy took the oysters and enjoyed 

 her breakfast. I didn't do either — crackers and coffee, 

 with a flavor of oyster, and dinner ahead. I.was discour- 

 aged. The kitchen table was covered with dishes that 

 had been used. No room to put another, and none to put 

 if there had been. Had left just three clean glasses and 

 the soup tureen. The stove was covered with spiders and 

 things; had to wear rubbers* whenever I went into the 

 kitchen to avoid slipping down. I went out to dinner and 

 to tea, and took every invitation seriatim; and when I 

 hadn't any, subsisted upon crackers and water. Some- 

 thing wrong about the milk; kitty wouldn't drink it, and 

 she went to the neighbors for her meals. Wearily ap- 

 proached the time for the railroad ticket and the night ride, 

 and the meeting with the wife and little ones; and last, not 

 least, came the Thanksgiving dinner, which I was in an 

 excellent condition to appreciate. 



On Friday morning, S. E. J. having made arrangements 

 the evening before, young Steele came around withdiis top 

 buggy and his blind horse. I borrowed Wilson's pointer, 

 Sam, and we {Jrove out merrily to Mr. Case's. Mr. C was 

 not at home, so we put the horse in the barn and called 

 upon Mrs. C. , who was much pleased to see us, and said 

 "we must be sure and come around to dinner — had a turkey 

 all dressed that she would cook for us. " We were thankful, 

 but we had our lunch with us, and could not promise to be 

 around anywhere at any given time. We turned down 

 across the flat and through the tamarack swamp— of old a 

 great place for quail, and things now civilized so much 

 that we did not strike a sign of game— up the creek about 

 a mile to the next swamp, a strip ten rods wide, elms, 

 alders and weeds, high ground upon the left, the creek 

 upon the right. We swept through, starcing three par. 

 tridges, which I missed — a good double shot. Sam had 

 given no warning. Why I missed them I know not, ex- 

 cept that I did not hold straight. One went ahead— the 

 others over the hill; started the one again in the thickest 

 and swampiest place there was, covered him well and fired 

 away with No. 10. He did not come down, much to my 

 surprise. The charge must have struck him square, but 

 Steele, who was some distance behind me, and could see 

 over, said "he saw him fly ahead into the open." We 

 hunted out the rest of the swamps, and then went after the 

 dead bird. There was a buckwheat stubble near the spot 

 where he fell, and Steele, who was ahead, walked into a 

 large bevy of quail— twenty or more— killed one at ten 

 feet, missing the second barrel; the rest went into the 

 swamp. I went after them, floundered around in the mud 

 and alders for an hour, flushed one bird, and started one 

 rabbit, which would have jumped over Sam if he hadn't 

 got out of the way. Could have killed dog and rabbit at 

 one shot, but didn't think best. S. E. J. and Steele were 

 calling to me outside, and I went to them. They had 

 found the partridge where Steele had seen him roll over. 

 Going to pick him up he rose, and away he went over 

 the open, and dropped in a very narrow strip of alders by 

 the creek. We went over with the dog, but though they 

 had marked the exact spot we could not find him. Half 

 a mile further some went over a large wheat stubble, not 

 finding anything; but Steele, who crossed a corner that we 

 had not crossed, started a bevy of seven or eight quail. 

 They went into a small swamp, where we followed. We 

 flushed three, of which I killed one, missing the second; 

 could not find the others and gave them up. 



Now one o'clock. We ate our lunch — were disgusted — 

 two quail from two bevies. Sam had not been worth a 

 copper; so far he had not found a bird. We then explored 

 a large flat covered with grass. Sam, who appeared to 

 have waked up at last, took a trail, followed it up sixty 

 rods out of the grass, and into a mud field near a barn, 

 where he came to a point. I flushed the birds, getting one 

 with each barrel; the others turned down towards the flat, 

 and flying to the further side dropped in the grass. There 

 we followed them— they gave no scent j we had to walk 



three abreast, and tramp them up one by one. I killed 

 them all one after the other, except two wh« flew across 

 a pond near by— twenty rods in diameter — and into some 

 alders. One of my dead birds fell in the middle of the 

 pond upon the ice, which would not bear the dog, and 

 there after many fruitless efforts for his recovery we had 

 to leave him. I went after the two, flushing one of them. 

 I fired at him; he did not stop, and flew directly back 

 across the pond towards S. E. J., w T ho marked him in the 

 open grass. "There," said S. E. J., "he lies in a direct 

 line between me and that old stump." We searched care- 

 fully—no quail. S. E. J. took the bearings ag=dn. I 

 walked forward according to his directions. "Stop! now 

 he is not ten feet from you." I threw down my cap to 

 mark the spot, and we hunted dilligently. At last Sam 

 came to a point. I put my hand in the grass, and there 

 was Mr. Quail nearly dead. My cap was just three feet 

 distant. We now had thirteen quail; had lost one out of 

 this bevy; felt encouraged. I proposed that we go straight 

 back to the two first bevies, and see whether they coald 

 outgeneral us a second time. We struck the small swamp 

 where bevy No. 2 had taken refuge. Sam took the scent 

 and started five out of a small thicket. I got two of them ; 

 the rest dropped near a fence, a few briers and alders. 

 We surrounded them. "When flushed they all came my 

 way, and I killed them every one. Sam started another 

 wild, not near us; he flew over the open meadow and out 

 of sight. We then went back to bevy No. 1. Steele started 

 six upon the stubble, where they were at first using both 

 barrels. They went into the swamp, and I after them. By 

 good luck I ran into the rest of the bevy, which rose in very 

 thick cover. I fired at the sound, dropping three; the rest, 

 eight or ten, flew towards the outer edge, most of them well 

 outside. S. E. J. and Steele came down, and for about 

 three minutes it rained quail. Every bird that started 

 rising high, to get back to the swamp, went down dead. 

 At the cry of "mark!" S. E. J. and Steele would come to 

 the present arms, but they did not fire a shot. The six 

 which Steele had started we could uot find. As we passed 

 through the swamp upon our return, I killed a partridge 

 and a rabbit. At four o'clock were back at Mr. Case's — 

 twenty-nine quail, one rabbit, one partridge. Aliquis. 

 +++, 



AN ADVENTURE 



For Forest and Stream, 

 WITH ALLIGATORS. 



THE following incident, which occurred during my 

 sojourn in Marion Co., Fla., last winter and spring, 

 has been laughed over many a time since by the partici- 

 pants. We had built a flat-bottomed boat some 10 feet 

 long by 2£ feet wide, and started with it in an ox cart for 

 the ponds two miles north of the plantation. Mr. Smith, 

 the planter, managed the team, the Deacon and myself 

 managed the boat, Mr. Willis managed the* Allen breech- 

 loaders and the oxen. Well, they managed to run the 

 cart over about every falkn tree in the woods, but did not 

 manage to tip us out. 



Our object was to obtain the body of a certain alligator 

 "mortally rifled" by your correspondent about two weeks 

 previous, whose fast-decaying carcass lay belly up in the 

 middle of one of the aforesaid ponds. 



As we neared the first and smallest of the ponds Mr. 

 Willis, him of the breech-loader, descried, with the assist- 

 ance of a powerful opera glass of the double-barreled 

 kind, supplemented by a still more powerful glass of the 

 single-barreled kind, a little orphan alligator sunning him- 

 self on the sloping trunk of a tree in the pond. 



Mr. W. cautiously approached the water's edge under 

 the protection of the dog fennel (which abounds around 

 tie borders of all these ponds) and blazed away. The 

 "gator" fell kerchunk into the water, and we who had been 

 anxiously waiting and watching hurried forward with the 

 team and launched the boat; the Deacon assuming com- 

 mand, also acting as crew and all hands. He soon had the 

 noble saurian (?) (he was just thirty inches long) aboard, 

 but found he wasn't quite dead by a good deal; however, 

 he appeared disposed to be quiet, so the Deacon started 

 for the other side where we were to drag the boat across a 

 narrow neck of land to the next pond. 



As he was quietly paddling along he saw something 

 move in the mos3 close by, and out popped the head of 

 another "gator." The Deacon is not naturally belligerent, 

 but to have that "gator" stick his head up and wink at 

 him as he did was too much for the staid Connecticut 

 Deacon; so he went for him with the paddle, and some- 

 times he hit him and then again he didn't; the boat 

 danced around threatening to upset every moment, while 

 the audience on shore alternately cheered and cautioned. 

 The conflict soon ended by the "gator" showing signs of 

 weakening, and he was lifted into the boat by his tail. 

 The Deacon then paddled ashore and we hauled tbe boat 

 over to the other pond, when I took a seat in the stern 

 armed with a long pole, in one end of which was an iron 

 hook. 



We soon arrived alongside my dead "gator," and I fasten- 

 ed the hook in his jaw preparatory to towing him ashore. 

 Hitherto the two "gators" in the boat had not been very 

 troublesome, though both were alive, but the stench which 

 arose from the body of their dead brother in tow seemed 

 to act as a powerful restorative, and they immediately 

 manifested a disposition to be ugly, in fact, they endeavor- 

 ed to intimidate us. We didn't want to lose our dead and 

 we didn't want to lose our living, nor be chawed up by 

 them either, so we compromised by giving the larger one 

 (about five feet long) the outside of the boat, while the 

 Deacon and myself, with the smaller one, retained the 

 mside, and in a few moments reached the shore with our 



