8o 



RECREA T/OJV. 



had run away from his California home 

 and, against the wishes of his old mother, 

 had enlisted in the cavalry. How proud 

 he felt that day on going into his first 

 Indian fight. He had promised himself 

 that on his return to his post he would 

 write to his mother. How proud she 

 would be of him ! He would tell her 

 of his part in the fight — how he had 

 done his duty and been praised by his 

 captain for brave conduct. How it 

 would make her dear old heart beat 

 with pride for her boy. But now — with 

 a bullet through his lungs, his face 

 drawn and white from suffering, his life 

 blood ebbing from his breast, he lay 

 slowly dying. No more would he know 

 his mother's kiss : his sister's gentle 

 voice or the happy home. 



As the surgeon passed among the 

 wounded, he paused before the suffering 

 t>oy, and saw that the hand of death had 

 touched him, that his life could be 

 counted by minutes. Bending over the 

 young soldier, he told him that he had 

 but a few minutes to live, -and that if he 

 had anything to say he must speak 

 quickly. The brave lad said : 



"Tell them at home that I died like 

 a soldier ; that I have done my duty." 

 of death crossed his 

 few minutes he was 



pallor 

 in a 



The gray 

 face and 

 dead. 



A plain rough slab of native sand- 

 stone is all that marks his lonely grave, 

 away^out there in the treeless foot-hills, 

 but it bears this inscription, rudely cut 

 by a loving comrade : 



" Here lies a boy who did his duty 

 .and who died like a soldier." 



When lovely woman stoops to folly, 

 And eats a watermelon that is not ripe, 



"What charm can soothe her melancholy ? 

 What potion ease her fearful gripe? 



how big a 



" Father," said Johnny Ironside, 

 fish did you ever catch ?" 



" I caught a catfish once, Johnny," replied 

 Deacon Ironside, " that weighed " 



The good man stopped short, looked fixedly 

 at his youngest son, and resumed in an altered 

 tone — 



" John, this is Sunday." — Youngstozun {Ohio) 

 Vindicator. 



America has no Shakespeare yet, 

 No epic bard of deathless lay; 



But on the baseball grounds, you bet, 

 A homer's made most every day. 



— Indianapolis Journal. 



OUR CONTRIBUTORS. 



XII. 



Judge C. W. Hinman, of Schoharie, N. V., 

 has had an eventful career. When 27 years old 

 (August, 1862), he enlisted as a private in the 

 134th M. S. V. The regiment was composed of 

 volunteers from Schoharie and Schenectady 

 counties. He was promoted to First Lieutenant, 

 was captured and served the last six months of 

 his term in Andersonville Prison, being released 



after Lee surrendered. He returned to Scho- 

 harie a skeleton, recuperated at home, com- 

 menced the study of law, was admitted to the 

 bar in 18 months, and has been practicing 

 law there ever since. His only recreation is 

 shooting and fishing, and in these he has had a 

 wide experience. His tastes are simple; he uses 

 old-fashioned tackle, but never gets left when he 

 goes after bass or trout. He says, " I shoot on 

 the wing, for which the birds give me thanks." 

 His friends, however, account him one of the 

 best wing shots in the state, and say he seldom 

 misses a bird that any other man could kill. As 

 a writer he is full of droll and quaint humor. 

 His stories deal mostly with field sports of 40 or 

 50 years ago, but have a charm and a freshness 

 about them that carry us all back to our boyhood 

 days. Several of his delightful reminiscences 

 are in reserve for the readers of Recreation. 



Diamond Pond, in Colebrook, N. H., although 

 made famous more than twenty years ago by 

 Wm. C. Prime, in his "I go a Fishing," is still 

 an excellent fishing ground. Mr. George W. 

 Gladwin, of New York, during a recent trip in 

 that neighborhood, made a large catch of trout 

 there, both as regards the size and number of 

 fish. It is reached from either Boston or Spring- 

 field, via. the B. & M. R. R. 



