fi344 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Deokmbbb 3, 1880. 



^arisimn Eatttht 



A WE&T VmGINIA FOX-CHASE. 



TLIE SHOW lm(i been falling nil the day— great, soft, feath- 

 ery flakes that changed the leafless shrubbery into fairy 

 liowers and powdered pine and cedar with gema and jewels. 

 My friend Hal was willi nie— his farm lies ne7ct my own mid 

 we have liimted together many n your. Oiu packs aie small, 

 but of the choicest'siraiii of lilood ; and I liad oulj a Utile 

 while before added to mine Riugwood, a beautiful black-and- 

 tan from one of the most celebrated packs in the Old Domin- 

 ion. 



" WhiYf aav you to a ehaso to-morrow, Xil?" said Hal. look- 

 i)].^ out iipmru",,, fallinganow. ■■« the niKhtkei-psw.irinit will 

 be !-i splendid day, with the .''iiow deep m.ii suft ; then we will 

 see what Kingwood eaii do, and 1 will wageryou my Imnling 

 hoi'ii against vour spurs that he is not so fleet as mv dog Ash- 

 by." 



"Done," said I ; •' be ready early. We can soon have up 

 a red iu the old beech woods, and then we will see whose dog 

 is fleetest." 



By break of day next morning Hal blew ids horn at tlie 

 meadow gate and 1 soon joined him with my pack, having 

 fed them well the night before, but giving them no breakfast. 

 It was still quite warm, with the snow melting rapidly. We 

 rode at a lively pace to the river bank in the great beech 

 woods and cast ofl:' the dogs, who were impatient of restraint 

 and full of fire. In a few moments we he-ard a solitary dog 

 giving tongue over the hill among the lam'ol. and in an in- 

 stant'another joined liim. "It's Ashby," said Hal. "Yes, 

 and Kingwood," Said I. "Did you ever hear the the voice 

 of hound so clear and musical ?" ,) ust liack of the laurel 

 thicket is a meadow a third of a mile in width and smooth 

 and level as any Te.xas prairie. Dog after dog joined in the 

 cry imli! the whole pack were giving tongue in wild excite- 

 ment. We galloped to the edge of the meadow just in time 

 to see the fox break cover and away acro8.s the meadowtothe 

 elifl-'s anil stream beyond, the |iack not three Imndred yards 

 behind and raoing by sight, Kingwood and Ashby running 

 side by side atid the others close beiund. "He will never 

 reach shelter," cried Hal, dashing spurs to his thfiroughlired 

 imd ridius well up to the pack. "We must have alarmed 

 him and turned him back, or he would never have risked it." 

 It was a mad, wild chase, the gap widening every moment 

 between the leading dogs and the pack and closing between 

 them and the fox. 



"Don't you see, Hal," I cried, "that Ringwood is pulling 

 away from" AsldiyV He is now half his length ahead and 

 gaining ; now there is a good yard of daylight between them, 

 and that Texas horn is mine !" Keynard was flying like the 

 wind, but still Kingwood was closing up the gap and was 

 now not llfty yards behind him and gaining at every bound, 

 Ashby ten pat'es oft', and the rest of the pack running well to- 

 gether ill the real-. Two-thirds of the distance had been 

 passed when Ringwood pressed him so closely that Reynard 

 turned and offered battle and was torn to pieces before he had 

 time to feel the pangs of death. Xil Torris. 



BridgepoH, W. Va. 



IN THE CANADIAN WILDS. 



1 



Matawfn li 



August, 1880. 



EAIN, wind and cold; salt pork, mi.sery and desolation, 

 and all the et ceteras that help toniake life in a seven- 

 foot tent uncomfortable. However, rainy da.vs are good for 

 w:)metlnug, for then we mend our ragged corduroys, clean 

 oiu' guns, look over and repair our fishing tackle, and plan 

 future excursions. Rainy days are also days of letter-writing 

 and as I want to a.sk FoiiF.ti'r aku SiiiKA-M a few questions I 

 will at the same try and give those who liave not "been 

 there" a notion of tougliing it in the Canadian backwoods. 



If this is not backwoods, where is ifi' Looking out of the 

 tent door this same rainy day, one sees a small lake with very 

 black water, weeds and a lew pike and dore. The sm-oimd- 

 iug country is bnlUi— forests of dead and blackened spruces 

 ami windfall and second growth, hills and valleys of sand, 

 the valleys usually occupied by lakes, with here and there a 

 mountain of tin' old Laui(;nlian gneis.ses showing Ids head 

 up throu'i-h the remains of » forest that part I v clothes him, 

 Hs though he were nut ashauierl of his ugline.s,s. When a 

 cold wind is blowing, sky cl-juded, and heavy rain falling, 

 such a " bit" does not .send a mHtler-of-fact individual into 

 ecstasy over the beauty' of the country. But to the eouii- 

 try's credit be it said that it is not all iilce this. There are 

 some beautiful lakes among these old hills, and they are the 

 more charming to the sportsman who, as he begins to put his 

 rod iu order, sees man.v a large trout break the surface into 

 ripples. 



What to call this " Ijlawsted country" I have not decided 

 — "Land of Kotrksimd Lakes," "Paddle and I'orl.'me," ur 

 ■• Land of the Mo-squito and BJaekfly." A mixuiie ,..■ r,,m- 

 binatiou would suit it he.^t 1 think, tor all the abovi- .are m 

 strong Kirce, and llie two last will not allow them.selvcs to be 

 left out I if tlie programme. 



Here T sit in niv dreai\- tent, and the musical mosquito 

 lakes his dinner whilr Lwait for uiy mine. The blaokfiy 

 contributes his iitiola in the general amusement, and though 

 he will vanish ai sunset his place will be ably supplied by the 

 brtjlot or midge. I don't know who tirst originated the yarn, 

 but yarn there is, that the blacktiy goes to his long home in 

 the middle of July, and tliat when their feet are white they 

 are going to leave. I say 1 don't know who was the inventor 

 of this bit of nuiiiral hislory. but if I had him here, pro- 

 vided he were a .small man, 1 would inflict severe corporal 

 punishment, and Ihrii, " injun" fashion, tie him to a tree in 

 his bare peit and let the ilies at him. AYhy, tlie hlackfly 

 bites until the frosts come, 1 htwe seen them, yea, and felt 

 them in October and three days alter winter set in. Very 

 like a fish story, hut true, ncvertheltea. 



But to the coimtry. Around us stretches for miles a vast 

 wilderness— it is little better— of lake, rock, forest and 

 hrlllfe ; lakes ahoimding in trout or pike and dor6, support- 

 in" broods of ducks and, so natiu-jilisls say, producing all 

 kinds of blood-thirslv flies ; river-valleys well stocked with 

 .grouse, ruffed and Canada, har(!s, beaver, otter, mink and 

 foup cervier, or lynx, for small game ; aud moose, caribou 

 and black bear for large. But I have forgotten the muskrat, 

 or musquash, an unpardonable fault, for many a meal of 

 savory bouillon of that same "rat" have I eaten by the 

 camp fire, and thou.eh of course one would prefer deer, bear, 

 or beaver, rat is nol'to be despised when there is nothing 

 but " cookoosh" (salt pork) in camp. 



In spite of these niunerous attractions In the way of game 



we arc not likely to be ovemm by sportsmen from the cities 

 for a few years, as there are grounds more accessible and, I 

 hope, better stocked. However, the country will keep, and 

 will not spoil by keeping either, as far as settlement is con- 

 cerned. It ofteJrs no attr.iction to the farmer, as none of that 

 class with the average amount of senae would cume iu here. 

 There h:,ve been found as yet no minerals of importance, so 

 that mining is not likely tobe an enterprise, and to the clias- 

 seur and trapper dews it belong. Lumbermen had a share in 

 ii, bul as most of the best limber lias been cut ottl andlmrnt 

 out, not much is done in thai lino. 



Of course in such a countiy things are done in u diflerent 

 style from on the Western plains, where it was a saying that 

 a "horse and buckboard could go aiijnvhere. Here"roads do 

 not exi.sl in summer, and to' travel with a horse in these 

 niiiuntains would be as absurd lo attempt as impossible lo 

 aeeomplisli. Canoeing and portaging are Ihe only means of 

 trausport ill summer, and every pound of oiitfll that comes 

 hito camp comes on a man's back a gn-al part of the way; 

 so little is taken on a long trip save neewsiiies that no fellow 

 can do without. 



This portaging or carrying is done liy menus of a long 

 strap, broad in the middle, wbieh iniddlc passes over the top 

 of the head, and the load rests across Ihe jiiieker's back— no, 

 it doesn't rest, it hang.s, and nearly all the "liang" is on a 

 feUow's neck. Most sportsmen of the North know a "col- 

 lier," but to all it is not given to experience the sensation of 

 walking along a log with 100 or lOb pounds on one's back and 

 haviiiglhe biirk come off, so that a gentle drop of a few feet 

 shortens your neck with a jerk on reaching bottom. I think 

 I should have been a six-footer if I had not taken to the col- 

 lier, aud firmly believe ihai several of the vertebne of uw 

 spine are welded together simply liy that infernal strap. 



This carrying on fl«; head has" its advantages, however, for 

 in case of a" .slip an old band will throw off the load and come 

 to grass with only his own weight"! and had the strap been 

 over his chest he must have gone down witli it and perhaps 

 have been hiu-l ; indeed, I knew of a e^ise where aman, W'alk- 

 ing on a log over a creek, slipped and fell with the collier on 

 his chest ; with the usual perversity of loads iu sueli case.-J, 

 the pack fell one side of the log and the man on the other- 

 strap slipped up across his throat, he hadn't his knife handy, 

 and was tolerably well chokei.1 and black in the face, when 

 another chap, wiio Was fortunately behind on the trail, putm 

 an appearance aud set liimonhis feet again. Ti-emeudous loads 

 ai-e c^irried by these voyageurs -200 or 3o0 potmds is not 

 called a heavy load for a good portage, and should I say what 

 weights I beheve have been carried, people would probably 

 set me down as a Mnnehauaen. 



The primitive bark canoe is Hie only u: 

 by water. Here the many patent canoes 

 are unknown, and should any one advise 

 man he would most likely renimk that 

 better than any bloody new-fangled eone 

 jne when 1 praised a " Lakefield." Th 

 the same vessels that novelists wri 

 generally described as " frail a; 



IS of conveyance 

 the L'nitcd Stales 

 iir use to a biish- 

 lis old burlv was 

 ," as one said to 

 re not apparently 

 uliout, for the latter are 



^ _, . g:r-.slKll," imd even Bal- 



rantyue," whom I worshipped in my youth, falls into the er- 

 ror. Now, our canoes will stand a blow from a round stone 

 that would make an ordinary boat leak at a good many seams; 

 aud if they do leak— well, a bu-ch-bark torch, a little gum, 

 and a piece of rag. and we are K again. 



Only twice have I smashed my canoe and both times it was 

 the faiflt of the crow. Crossing from the Gatineau River to 

 the Lievres oue fall, I could get no men, as the season was 

 near its close ; so after much'deliberation my chum and my- 

 self decided on soing alone. I was a poor canoe-mau and he 

 was, if anything, worse, and neither knew aiiylhiiig about 

 the country. However, off we started, and all went wefl as 

 longas we" had the stream to paddle against and not lo run 

 down. We only got lost once, but fotmd ourselves utter n 

 couple of bom-s'" search, and had uo accideut untilwe icaclie.l 

 the water-shed of the two rivers. Now wo couldn't get lust. 

 but we could gel smashed: and this was our tear. One rainy 

 morning, having run several small rapids safely, we wiTecon- 

 gratulaung ourselves on progress made, \vhen we reached th 

 head of a small rapid — steep, swift \v:a( 

 at the foot, one huge boiflder. " T.," '. 

 how- "how goes it?" "We 



tin: 



and i 



i 1-1 



sily reach th^ 



11^ 

 i in the 

 I'uol by 

 holding back,°but there the oulv water is close to iIihI rock." 

 " Welh we'U go to the left of it— and mind and d^.n't reach 

 forward"— he liad an abominable habit of reaching forwnnl 

 and putting his paddle on a rock," instead of giving a lift to 

 one side. "Allright," says T., "vou mmd your end, I'll 

 take care." "I'll run hei ul I lie rock: it's the only water," 

 say I. "All right." Down we go, "backing" here and 

 "■iviiig a stroke there, :md not a touch until we near our 

 friend ilie rock, ii.itlierin- .--.peed every instant. "Now! 

 Left:" I shout, l-^wirter is the puce. "Left ! left!" I howl, 

 as T. reaches forward, ami ihere is a hideous crash— then WU 

 are in tlie eddy, aud then iu shallow water, as she sinks un- 

 der us. Fortunately T v\'as Uiici'ling on the lout and that 

 caulked her a Uttlc. There is a hole you could put yoiu-liead 

 into in the bow, and we almost weep as we think of the 8U- 

 ^.,1 etc.- u mass of "imish." No use crying over spiltmilk, 

 so we trim her over, light bark, melt gum, tear out the back 

 of my vest and slick it over the hole, and paddle 140 miles of 

 river" with that primitive patch on the canoe. What Lake- 

 field could be mended thus':' 



Another upsrl I had that nearly cost me my gun and 

 rods and other "et cetera" may warn other fellows if they over 

 soinnrn in the siiine d'lstriet.i'. Camped on a river, which a 

 d:iv's rain would flood, aud two days of wet weather make 

 into a nice little torrent, my cook one mornlBg woke me with 

 "Sixo'clock, sir, andbreakfaatnearlyready." So tlu'owing olT 

 the blankets I turned out and looked out of the old lumber 

 shimty wc had appropriated. A gloomy morning, ■ i'l! ite-v y 

 steadyrain,and as thesaineweallierhadheldgi'-": - ■ 

 before, we had our torrent ready, the river beiiu ■ ;: n ' ' ' 

 feet over the ordinary level, ^^'e could nc'l ul'iril •■• I' - 

 lime, and, going on the prineiole of "the bettor the day, 

 etc."— it was Sunday— 1 resol \'e,l m start. For some reason, 

 possibly because it was having se:ison, I couldn't get a man 

 whokn"ew the river, and we liad to go it as we best could. 

 Now ".Jim," so good at flsh-balls and plmu-duff, etc., was 

 no eanoemau. Artliui- was but a youth, and I was decidedly 

 avcni're with a paddle. Of course the bow was the delicate 

 Piu-t but I took that at once, and Jim, slcei'ing— or, rather, 

 not steering- ran me down a rapid broadside on and we 

 •■ fluked" through it bv having the canoe light. So wc take 

 our usual places, Jim i'u the bo^v, Arthur iu the middle and 

 myself in the stern; and with three inches o the gunwale 

 above water we embai-k. Two rapids are run with a little 

 water shipped ; and we come to the head of a nice short little 

 one— nice and steep and rougli, too. We had run it before, 

 and though I had sundry quahus as I saw how low we -were 

 in the water, 1 gave a word to the boys and in we ran. Bet- 



ter had we gone ashore. She goes down the slope like a flash 

 in spite of our holding back ; through the first swell goes hei 

 sharp bow and she is half full. 1 dare not yell "Out!''' for the 

 boys woj^^'t know how to take the water and not upset her. 

 No use iTOBng back now, we must keep her going. Down we 

 go, her nose goes imder, and she gets lower and lower, till, 

 when liaving escaped llic rocks, we reach the eddy at the 

 foot, she is nearly out of sight. " Out !'' 1 howl, a"nd out I 

 go. Arthm' slips over the side, and Jim, wiio liiiuks shore 

 the driest piacf-, nirtkea a dive for it : over goes the canoe, 

 and down go my rods and gun into fifteen feet of water. 1 

 come to the toji, shake Ihe water out of my eyes, and could 

 laugh, if I didn't feel more like swearing. Jim is trying to 

 get away from a bo.v that evidently wants to get on his back; 

 Arthur iias the canoe by a bar and a grip of a branch; the 

 impediment:! art! running a race roimd the eddy, and I am 

 oil du\ui stream. I gTab a bundle, get hold of" a rock.and 

 (•limli ashore, but would prefer not to have fishing boots on. 

 The otliers, who are beiler swimmers, arc on dry land. We 

 rescue the floating "kit," buntUe the traps into the canoe, 

 and paddle rlown to the cache of the day before. Here tents 

 are pitched, a fire lighted, clothes changed, aud we are once 

 more comfortable. When the river falls to its usual level we go 

 up and 1)3' a few lucky dives recover my traps, not much the 

 worse for their dip. But llie cliatf i .get makes me vow never 

 to try it on i^aiu alone and with a lieavy load, until, in a fit 

 of laziness this summer, I run a rapid, or rather run a little 

 of it, break the canoe, go down a hundred yards of the swift 

 water, han.ging on to the stern to keep her upright, and when 

 I (lo get ashore, poriage and reach cuuip, am told by my man 

 tln^t " no fellow" ever runs that rapid. Such is life. 



P.sliiuv : iiere am 1 spinning varns without a moral. I had 

 intended to go into outlit tbuiking that we wlio camp all and 

 every summer, and frequently in the winter, might give a 

 WTinkle 10 those who have not been "out;" lait as I have 

 wasted several sheets of paper and probably " it will all end 

 in smoke," I will subside. Wasaxj. 



IN A COUNTRY HOUSE LIBRARY. 



THERE are times when one wearies of the continuous 

 glare of bright sunshiny days that ever invite from seri- 

 ous occupation with the irresistible influence which pervades 

 the sunlit smile of beautiful nature. The aid afforded to 

 meditation and the increased gladness and sympathy felt in 

 comp;in}' with one's liooks oyicns a new and increased appre- 

 ciation of the charms of rural ticuiu.y when the blurred veil 

 of rain is uplield. So thonghl I one wet November afternoon 

 succeeding a previous day's good shooting, as 1 was gavsing 

 abstractedly from the window of what m.\' young host termed 

 his den -aiuilf library, half gun and smoldng room. 



Between the srantily clotlu:d lawn trees coifld be seen, be- 

 vond the faded green of slopiuff hillside, the dark waters of 

 the valley-lying lakelet sizzing between two wooded hills, 

 which rose preci]iilously from ihe flood that lapped the rocky 

 shore where the ferns lay yellow and dead in the cold, damp 

 glwjm of cavernous recesses. And along the farther shore 

 where the brown hillocks of a bog meadow were seen in the 

 narrow vale of the hillsides' spurs, the reeds and cat-tails 

 were sere and brown back of the withered lily pads. And 

 one turns from the window wondering if this was the scene 

 that was so enchanting yesterday, when ranging the coverts 

 "all in Uie golden weather." 



The oil-fovered laminations of Ibe guns upon the rack 

 glinted in the rays of tlie brigblly-illnmining fire, wlnlo above 

 the long, low book-ease covering the lower quoi'ter of the 



farther waU, where 

 and fan t lust ic cu/v'e.v 1 

 have rested since tln_ 



loving I 



shadows lay behind the vanes 

 orned the top piece, the flj^-rods 

 ceased to strike and the trouting 



ijinie birds, silent mementoes of 



■I -■ of comrades past and gone, 



:, tlie Lnglisli sporting prints 



i liic he;dtlifiil taalcs of thesport- 



tbstauding the great interest taken iu sport and 

 sporting accessories, we yet have to look to the motlier 

 country for the means wherewitli to Ultingly and economi- 

 cally lieeorate our walls and libraries with illustrations of the 

 mos-t fa,scinating of nU field recreation— .shooting. No other 

 shooting in the world alfords such a diversity of picturesque- 

 ly rural views, Iiordering at times upon luimeval wildness, as 

 does America, luid with such buckgrrauids, and with natural 

 delineation of the statuesque grace t'f the panting dog, and 

 the hiiiuan figures expressive of the gentle and absorbing c.\- 

 hileratiou of ihe moment, this vacant branch of Araerican 

 art is worthy of the most i.rtistic rilling. 



But an engraving aldn to the "Sportsman at Home," 

 though English, is entirely applicable with us now, sm the 

 habilments and sporting adjrmcts of our two couu tries are 

 identical; aud we experience alike the same congenial 

 thougiits and sympathies upon our return froni field and 

 cover, wlule the amber twilight hangs over the russet hill 

 top, aud come into the blaze of the firelight with ruddy 

 visage and muddy gaiters, whDe a privileged setter drops 

 upon the hearth rug. And nothing have vve in our illustrated 

 literattu-e comparing with the felicitous leproducLions of 

 sporting and rural life and hunting stories in colors, as is 

 embraced by a standard Loridon weeidy. 



Alike dearth of sporting cogni/nnee lliere seems to me iu 

 the annals of American fiction. The delineation of Ameri- 

 can farm aud manor life and rural sports has been, as yet, the 

 almost exclusive property of oin sporting writers, and advo- 

 cates more extenuation in graphic ]jortiaiture of their varied 

 allurements ami protean charms, tiiey could not have ; and, 

 •srith bill few- and anomalous exocptions, ha,3 the higher 

 ortler of country life, its idyls, common places and diverse 

 exliilerativc sports, bean interwoven in the thread of an ea- 

 Hcntiiilly American noveh 



Ami I I this one cannot but attribute the popularity of 

 the l-;iiglisli society novels to the presence of scenic repre- 

 sentation, manorial occupations and well defined charac- 

 ter sketches, as in eommunioii with that innate sporting in- 

 stinct that is possessed by most of the. An.glo-Saxon race, ir. 

 respective of sex or vocation. Dcsci-iplions of the grandeur 

 of the love of mountaiu and flood has often apiieared as the 

 background and settings of some gentle, chaste l:,ve storv, 

 pervaded 'wjth the hearty essence of the moor aud the 

 breeze from the loch, the report of the gmi drowniDg the 

 whirr of many wngs, or the clicking of the rapidly-unwind- 

 ing trout reel ; the roar of the stream before it is engulfed by 

 the silent tarn, dark under the shade of the pm-plehill; all 

 antilhetically contrasted with heat, dust and gliire of the 

 London seusuii, as, for instance, the delightful works of Wih 

 lifim Black and jMiss Grant's "My IIearl''s in tlie Highlands" 

 e.xamplieate. 



It was Malcolm himself who interrupted my reverie ap- 

 pearing upon the threshold, Baying that the occupants iu thu 



