RECREA TION. 



321 



Colby, Wash. 

 Last night (January 3d) I returned from a 

 three months' cruise up in the Gulf of Georgia, 

 There is no great sport to be had unless one goes 

 far north — at least to Queen Charlotte Sound. 

 Even deer are scarce on the islands and along 

 the coast, for market hunters, and still worse, 

 Indians and half-breeds, supply Nanaimo, 

 Comox, Vancouver and other places with veni- 

 son, and shooting can be heard, all day long, 

 around the inlets up the coast. 



Charles Greenwood. 



Winston, N. C. 

 I wish there was some way of procuring the 

 passage of a law which would not only forbid, but 

 stop the netting and trapping of quails. The 

 " Old North State " has been described as the 

 bird shooters' paradise, bur this practice of trap- 

 ping birds, for sale, is rapidly exterminating 

 them. Market hunters catch the whole covey 

 and leave none for breeders. 



Elliott Warren. 



Eufala, Ind. Ter. 

 Dr. G. O. West, Dr. G. R. Rucker and I 

 went across the Canadian into the Choctaw 

 nation, some time ago, to take part in a deer 

 drive. Our dogs started several, but we bagged 

 only one, a fine doe. Game is more abundant 

 this fall than usual, especially deer and turkeys. 



John W. McGee. 



The Flathead Indians (in Montana) are re- 

 ported to be playing havoc with the deer — 

 hounding both in and out of season — and far out 

 of their reservation, at that. 



R. W. Patton, of Chicago, is showing his 

 friends the head of a mountain sheep which he 

 shot in Montana. 



Mr. George C. Jones, of The Forks, Me., 

 has for sale a large, healthy two year old bull 

 moose. 



Sweet Recreation barred, what doth ensue 

 But moody and dull melancholy — 

 Kinsman to grim and comfortless despair? 



A BOY'S LETTER.* 



Ocean City. 



My dear Father. — I have had more sport 

 with my new gun than in any other way. After 

 you went home I was so impatient for Monday 

 to come, that 1 did not know how to occupy 

 myself. At last Monday came, and getting up 

 at 6 o'clock in the morning, I set out for the 

 point, with Harry Canfield. We could not get 

 any shots for some time. I thought I would let 

 Harry shoot first, to see how he handled the 

 gun. Pretty soon we neared a fleck of snipe. 

 Harry placed a shell in the gun and approached, 

 crouching behind the tall grass and bushes, pick- 

 ing out a concealed spot, he went down on one 

 knee, cocked the gun, aimed and fired, wound- 

 ing one bird. Harry said that snipe always re- 

 turn to the same place when one of their number 

 is shot, so he reloaded the gun, gave it to me, 

 and told me to wait till they came back, which 

 they shortly did. Harry told me to hold it as 

 tight as I could. He meant, to hold it tight 

 against my shoulder, but I misunderstood him, 

 and simply held on tight, as if it was going to 

 run away, and the consequence was that when I 

 fired, I would have been kicked, as flat as a 

 flounder, if Harry had not grabbed me. That 

 was my first experience, and after that I was all 

 right. We each fired again, and then started for 

 breakfast. 



I cleaned my gun and took 

 We had been out some time 

 shot, when two gulls came 

 along. I fired at them and missed. Then 

 Culver fired at a board stuck in the sand and hit 

 it squarely. Just then I saw a large snipe light 

 on the beach. I followed him up and he flew, 

 twice, but the third time I was afraid he would 

 not light again, so I cocked the gun and waited 

 until he should fly over the water; then, as he 

 was skimming along over the breakers, I fired 

 and killed him. Pretty soon we came across 

 another running on the sand. It was Albert's 

 turn now ; so, instructing him how to hold the 

 he was ready. Waiting till the snipe stood 

 he fired and killed his bird. I think the 

 a beautiful present, and intend to go out 

 again to-morrow. I have gotten entirely used to 

 the "kick" now, although my shoulder is black 

 and blue from my first day's experience. 



I must close now, because it is past bed-time, 

 and I am so sleepy I can hardly see. With much 

 love from everybody, your loving son, 



Lewis. 



* [Lewis G. Wilson, 

 who wrote this letter and 

 made the drawing, is but 

 twelve years old. He 

 is a student in the 

 Adelphi Academy, Phil- 

 T ^ adelphia. There are 



good things in store for 

 him. — Editor.] 



After breakfast, 

 the Boyd boys out. 

 without getting a 



gun, 

 still, 

 gun 



When dressed for the even- 

 ing the k r irls nowadays 



Scarce a vestige of dress on 

 them leave ! 



Why blame them ? For what 

 is an evening dress 



But a dress that is suited to 

 Eve ? 



