THE AMERICAN SPORTSMAN'S JOURNAL. 
[Entered According to Act of Congress, in the year 1879, by the Forest and Stream Publishing Company, in the Office of the librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
NEW YORK, THURSDAY, OCTOBER 23, 1879. 
ESTO LUX. 
Original. 
p ATBTElt up dry leaves, 
LT And crisp and seasoned twigs, and place them here. 
Beside this fallen pine, then deftly build 
Them, even as the skillful raven builds 
Its curious nest. Now strike the match with care, 
And shield the flickering flame with bended hand. 
It catches now, the tiny blase will grow, 
Will creep with stealth and twist the fibres round, 
To serve as spiral stairs to mount still higher 
And swing aloft the signals of our fire. 
The sparks fly forth. 
And rifts of fickle smoke, this way and that, 
Blend with the dusky eve, and floats away 
Into the night, beyond the grand old trees 
That stand like sentinels against the sky. 
The twigs are quickly gone, unnoticed, like 
The little-heeded years that make our youth— 
The years that build the fire of age matured, 
To burn to blackened waste with fierce control. 
Or test, in Nature's crucible, the soul. 
The very flames 
Speak out, and mutter through the crooked limbs 
In sounds articulate—in weird-like tones, 
They call aloud for more. So pile on high 
The fagots here, greaved like a giant's arms; 
Turn loose the demon in his mighty strongtb; 
More, pile up more 1 feed him with knotted logs 1 
Throw on the resinous pine as piquant sauce; 
More, and still more! till clouds of sparks are hurled, 
The breathing of a power that moves the world. 
Ah, this is grand I 
The roaring blaze is calling spectres out, 
And now they skip and dance among the trees, 
Then chase each other off, and quick return, 
And beckon each to each, and rise and fall 
Like goblin figures in a masquerade. 
Up leap the flames, as if to grasp the forms 
Of spruce and flr and hurl them to the earth. 
As mighty monarchs doomed to fall and die, 
While livid tongues exultant lick the sky. 
The tranquil night, 
Yon dome thick-studded with its myriad gems, 
Are now too calm a scene. Keep wo to this; 
Stir up the monster once again ; turn loose 
The wanton power that tramples cities down. 
Then thrust him back and bait him In his don 1 
See now his angry flash, and hear the growls 
And gnashing teeth that threaten ua in vain, 
While startled birds, and cringing forms afraid, 
Seek rest and silence in another glade. 
jThe glaring light 
Illumes the country round, and magnifies 
The standing audience of trees, that seems 
To look with fixed and stupid gaze upon 
The orgies of a band of sprites unknown. 
But now the sombre curtain from the sky, 
So rudely sundered by the unfettered flames, 
Rolls down to earth; the demon fire 
Wavers and falls, exhausted In his might, 
And peacefully return the shades of night. 
Jerome Burnett. 
JJ Winter in j %nnt Jtf.loridn. 
(FIFTH PAPER.) 
DEER-HUNTING ON ST. SEBASTIAN RIVER. 
O N the mor nin g succeeding the earthquake we break¬ 
fasted at daybreak, and leaving the camp in charge 
of Ed and Henry the rest of us started on a deer-hunt. 
We were accompanied by Strobhar and his ox-cart to 
bring in the game. Reaching Tom Zellers’ cabin at sun¬ 
rise we found that worthy smoking his pipe beneath his 
palmetto-thatched verandah. 
“ Good rnornin’, gentlemen,” was his greeting; “ glad 
to see you—ah. Hit’s a right fine day for a hunt—ah. 
The moon sets about 9 o’clock, and souths below along 
about 4 this evenin’—ah.” 
Sellers—a cracker “cow-boy,” born and raised in the 
flatwoods, a good hunter and a thorough woodsman—has, 
in common with all Florida hunters, implicit faith in the 
theory that deer feed at moon-rise, moon-set and moon- 
south, above and below. I remarked that I did not take 
kindly to the moon theory. 
“Why,” said he, “aintit low tide at moon-rise and 
mcon-set, and high tide at moon-south—ah ?” 
“Yes,” I answered, "that is nearly correct, for the 
moon is supposed to influence the tides; but every one 
does not believe even that theory.” 
“And don’t fish feed at high and low water—ah ?” 
“ Fish bite better at low tide,” 1 replied. 
" In course,” said he, triumphantly ; “ and so deer, fish 
and everything else feeds at rise, set and south of moon— 
all!” 
As it was worse than useless to argue the point I merely 
said; 
“ Well, Tom, perhaps you’re right; and I believe my¬ 
self that deer feed at those times if they are hungry.” 
“ Hit’s a fact,” said he ; “ and I think you’ll find ven’zin 
to-day, for I was out looking up some stray cattle yester¬ 
day evenin’, and I saw lots o’ sign—ah.” 
Tailing his dogs Troop and Trailer, we left him mutter¬ 
ing to Ins wife: 
“These fellers will try to make me believe next ’at the 
moon is made ’o green cheese—ah, and no manner of ac¬ 
count—ah.” 
Just beyond his cabin we crossed the North Prong of the 
St. Sebastian, which is here but a dozen feet in width, and 
we were soon traversing a large “burn” in the pine 
woods. The view was unobstructed for a half a mile in 
every direction, save by an occasional clump of saw-pal- 
mettoes and a few small “bays” or thickets. The cow¬ 
boys bum off the old grass and scrub in the flatwoods at 
certain seasons, which is succeeded in a few weeks by a 
new crop of succulent and tender grass, upon which the 
cattle range and feed. It is on these “ burns,” as they are 
called, that the deer are found at feeding-time, whenever 
that may be. The hunter, by standing on a log, can see 
a deer at a long distance in these level, flat pine woods; 
but his observations will be much enhanced by the aid of 
a field-glass or a good opera-glass. Having discovered the 
object of his search quietly feeding, the experienced 
hunter can by careful stalking approach his quarry and 
obtain a shot at short range. In hunting with dogs the 
method is to track the deer to his hiding-place, where he 
may be resting or sleeping, and, by “ jumping ” him, 
bring him down with a cliaige of buckshot. As the dogs 
are trained to follow a trail very slowly, and as the game 
generally lies very close in the bays and brush, it is no 
difficult matter to jump a deer within easy gun-shot. 
The dogs soon struck a fresh trail, whereupon we de¬ 
ployed our force in a skirmish line and moved on a par¬ 
allel with the creek on our right and with the wind in 
our faces. I was on the extreme left of the line, then 
Frank, Ben and Marion, in the order named, each being 
a hundred yards apart. Ben, carrying the only rifle in 
the party, and which was rather a heavy one, soon began 
to lag behind, and finally he and Marion were close to¬ 
gether at some distance in the rear. Ben, seeing a prom¬ 
ising sappling in a little bay near the creek, whipped out 
his hunting-knife and, in accordance with his ruling pas¬ 
sion, proceeded to cut it for a cane. As he was hacking 
off the small branches, a deer bounded out of the coppice 
not ten yards from him. As Ben stood staring, startled 
and stupefied with amazement, Marion coolly brought it 
down at thirty yards—his first deer—dead in its tracks. 
Ben, recovering from his surprise, made the woods ring 
with a Kentucky “ wlio-whoop I” as he rushed in with his 
knife and cut its throat. It proved to be a fine fat doe. 
Marion’s shot had made sure work of it: her neck and 
both legs on one side were broken. Strobhar soon coming 
up with the oxen, the doe was eviscerated and placed 
upon the cart, and Marion’s face was duly “blooded” by 
Strobhar and Ben, as is customary in the event of killing 
one’s first deer. They also hinted at the propriety of 
turning the paunch over his head, as a necessary pro- 
ceedure in affairs of that kind ; but Marion, flushed with 
victory and gore, looked quite wicked at the suggestion, 
and that additional feature of the cervine rite was 
omitted. 
Frank and I were now a mile or more in advance of the 
others. The dogs had followed the trail to the brush 
bordering the creek, and I had swung around in the same 
direction and was thus in advance of Frank. Suddenly, 
a herd of five deer, tliree does and two fawns, bounded 
out of the brush into the open woods about a hundred and 
fifty yards ahead of me, and stopped by the side of an 
immense pine, where they huddled together with necks 
stretched listening to the dogs which were making music 
on the hot trail. I stood perfectly motionless and longed 
for a Winchester repeating rifle ; then I felt that I would 
have been happy with one of Shelton’s auxiliary rifle bar¬ 
rels. As it was, I had twelve buckshot, weighing just an 
ounce, in each barrel, and could not move a single step 
nearer without alarming the herd. As the dogs were 
drawing nearer, I could not resist the temptation to haz¬ 
ard a shot even at that distance. So cautiously and slowly 
putting up the gun, I took deliberate aim high up on the 
shoulder of a doe that was standing broadside to me, and 
fired. They sprang away for a distance of teii rods and 
stopped again for a few moments, when, the dogs burst¬ 
ing out of the cover at this juncture, they bounded away 
with the speed of the wind. I noticed that one of the 
does left the herd and made for a bay several hundred 
yards to the left, with the dogs following on her trail. 
Frank now came running up and said excitedly : 
“You hit that one which the dogs are after, because it 
went off with it’s tail down, and Tom Sellers said a 
wounded deer always holds it’s tail down ! ” 
We followed the dogs, and sure enough we came upon 
the doe struggling in the throes of death. Frank had the 
mournful satisfaction of cutting her throat, and shouted 
“ who-whoop ! ” in defiance of Ben’s previous effort and 
my admonition to keep quiet. "Upon dressing the doe I 
found that a shot had cut the aorta or large artery near 
the heart, while a second shot had struck her in the"flank. 
I naturally felt quite elated at the result of this long shot, 
and while awaiting the arrival of the ox-cart, I stepped 
off the distance which I had accurately marked by the 
aid of the large pine, and found it to be fully 123 yards ; 
certainly an extraordinary as well as a lucky shot. 
Loading up the venison we started back to camp, leav¬ 
ing a saddle with Sellers on the way, who would scarcely 
credit the long shot with the “scatter gun.” Arriving 
at camp, the other doe was skinned and quartered by 
Strobhar, who then nibbed all of the meat with pepper 
and hung it in the shade, remarking that it would now 
keep ferfectly sweet until it could be consumed. This 
fact was borne out by our subsequent experience, for the 
pure, salt air of East Florida is an admirable preservative 
of fish, flesh, or fowl, when well dressed, dried, and hung 
in the shade. Ed and Henry soon set about making a 
venison stew, overlooked by Frank and Ben, who were 
meanwhile discussing the most scientific way of cutting a 
deer’s throat. Ben, having stuck his doe pig-fashion, was 
of course maintaining that view of the subject, while 
Frank argued for the conventional crosswise method as 
being the only professional mode. Frank had evidently 
been coached by Tom Sellers. Ed while preparing some 
liver for the frying-pan observed that he could not find 
the gall. I informed him that a deer had no gall-bladder, 
Frank remarked that it was “ goll darned ” queer that 
Sellers had told him nothing about it, and seemed in¬ 
clined to believe but half of the fact by intimating; 
“ Perhaps the bucks have galls if the does do not,” and 
further added : “ I will kill one just to find out.” 
Ed dryly observed; 
“ You had better swallow it, Frank, for if you wait till 
you kill a buck to be convinced you will die in ignorance.” 
“I can’t swallow it if there is none,” retorted Frank. 
King and Strobhar had some logs at the head of the 
South Prong, and were going up the next day to haul 
them to tho water. Having decided to go with them, 
our preparations were soon made. Early on the follow¬ 
ing morning Strobhar, Frank and myself started witlrthe 
ox-cart, while the balance of the party went up in King’s 
boat, which was of very light draught. We of tho over¬ 
land party crossed the North Prong at Sellers’, and 
passed around the head-waters of the West Prong, where 
wo discovered an abandoned Indian camp. We arrived 
at noon at the point of destination, and found the 
boys in camp, with dinner ready. Dinner over, King and 
Strobhar went to work on the logs, while our party struck 
out over the bums in different directions. Frank and I 
were together for a time, but separated to pass on opposite 
sides around alarge pond. Having passed some distance 
beyond the pond, where I saw plenty of “sign,” but no 
deer, I discovered a turkey running like a quarter-horse, 
which soon disappeared in the brush on the margin of a 
small stream. I ascertained that the stream was dry, 
with the exception of an occasional hole of water, and 
proceeded cautiously along the bed of it, well screened 
by the foliage on each side, which here and there met 
over my head, forming virescent arches, from which the 
vines and creepers hung in luxuriant festoons. 
Keeping a sharp lookout for “moccasins,” which slid 
into the holes of water as I crept along, my patience was 
at length rewarded by a glimpse of the turkey, which I 
soon succeeded in knocking over with a charge of buck¬ 
shot. He was a fine gobbler, in splendid condition. 
While stalking the gobbler I had heard a shot behind me, 
on the opposite side of the pond. I crossed over in that 
direction on my way back to camp, and soon descried 
Frank a half mile away, carrying a deer. As he was not 
proceeding in the direction of the camp I shouted and 
hallowed to him, but he only kept on the faster. Finally 
I fired both barrels of my gun, when he looked around 
and I signalled him to stop. Coming up with him, I ob¬ 
served that his face was quite bloody, and he was smiling 
like a prize-fighter after going to grass. 
“ Frank, I congratulate you, old fellow, upon your first 
deer. But what’s the matter with your face ? ” I sung 
out. 
“Well, I thought I would save the boys the trouble of 
‘bloodying’ me ; but perhaps you had better give me a 
daub.” 
“There,” said I, as I put my “ red right hand” against 
his forehead, “ I brand you with the mark of Cain." 
“ I am glad to be able to bear it,” said he, with a san¬ 
guinary grin. 
“But, Frank, why didn’t you stop when I called to 
you V ” 
He looked quite serious a moment, and then said: 
“ Don't tell the boys; I thought you were an Indian 
