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RECREATION. 



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II I 



'TWAS 80 YEARS AGO. 



My uncle is several years over 90, but 

 his mind is as clear as it ever was. Were 

 it not for his great weight I verily believe 

 he would be off, such bright, frosty 

 weather as we are having now, even if only 

 after rabbits. He is a trifle hard of hear- 

 ing; but one need only say "gun" or 

 "dog" to see him start up, and bristle, and 

 get interested. 



Whenever he gets low spirited, or has 

 a touch of the gout, and begins to think 

 the world a delusion, I am sure to be sent 

 for to cheer him up. I am always enter- 

 taining; not that I attempt to bore him 

 with my own exploits with rod or rifle; 

 but that I am a good listener. 



What a remarkable fund of adventure 

 the dear old man has at his tongue's tip. 

 Last New Year's day he told me about 

 one of his first excursions. He was a boy 

 of 12 or so, and his father took him along 

 on a hunting trip. A dozen or so men, 

 all ardent sportsmen, made the party. 

 They came up the river on a sloop, landed 

 at Cornwall, and made their headquarters 

 at what was then the only tavern. Two 

 residents of the neighborhood joined 

 them. One they called "Deacon" Suther- 

 land; the other, a well known Quaker in 

 his day, "Friend" Sands. To make the 

 sport more interesting it was agreed that 

 the one whose bag was biggest should be 



at no further expense for the trip, as uncle 

 put it. His shot should be paid by the 

 others. 



They reckoned by points: 5 for a wild 

 goose; 4, a duck; 5, a gray squirrel; 3, 

 a red, and so on. Grouse, robins and 

 chipmunks, with a lot more small game, 

 were lumped as one each. 



One of the city men suggested that 

 woodcock should count. 



"Well," said the deacon, deliberately, "if 

 it will please you I'm willing; let 'em go 

 at one each, though they're a harmless 

 bird; never touch the crops that I know 

 of and no one eats 'em." 



Never eat woodcock! Imagine that, 

 please! One of the party ventured to say 

 he thought they were not such bad eating; 

 but the deacon was decided in his views; 

 they were altogether too rank. 



"Yes," put in Friend Sands, "I know 

 they be putty rank; but I shoot 'em when 

 I ken, and my old woman, she cooks 'em. 

 She parboils 'em fust, and then fries 'em; 

 and done that way they're most as good as 

 pigeon. You see the parboilin' takes all 

 that 'ere rank flavor out." 



G. I. Cervus, Newburgh, N. Y. 



The pneumatic mattress came O. K. and 

 I am well pleased with it. 



W. R. Walker, Lewistown, Mont 



