HOW IT LOOKS FROM THE ROAD. 



283 



not bring in his deer as a result of honest 

 still-hunting. Up to the 15th of August 

 no one saw or tasted venison at McCol- 

 lcm's; but thereafter and until the close 

 of the season it was a constant element 

 of the bill of fare. What more could rea- 

 sonable guests desire? 



I have just received a letter from my old 

 guide, Will Martin, who has been trap- 

 ping in that s^-tion this winter, and he 

 says he never saw so many deer and deer 

 signs before in any part of the Adiron- 

 dack^. McCollom's is an ideal place for 

 the sportsman and his family, with its 

 well-appointed hotel, its glorious scenery, 

 its picturesque log camps, and its excel- 

 lent fishing in the lakes and streams 

 near by. 



The point I wish to make, however, is that 

 where the law is observed, there you can 



find the deer. Where it is violated, there 

 you may be sure they will become scarce; 

 and the market hunter, the game hog and 

 the lawless hotel proprietor will in the end 

 suffer the penalty of their own wrong- 

 doing. The sportsmen and their dollars 

 will go where the game is. Certainly ev- 

 ery member of the League of American 

 Sportsmen should speak a good word for 

 the sturdy upholders of the law among the 

 hotel men of the Adirondacks, and give 

 them the preference over the short-sighted 

 and lawless men who by killing more deer 

 than they are entitled to and serving veni- 

 son out of season, are hastening the day 

 when they will not be able to serve it at 

 all, and when the man who wishes to shoot 

 a deer will have to go to Maine or Can- 

 ada to accomplish his object. 



HOW IT LOOKS FROM THE ROAD. 



A. L. VERMILYA. 



Search the woods and rake the meadows 



For a robin, owl or bat; 

 Something that when slain and mounted 



May adorn my lady's hat. 



Rip the feathers off the songsters, 

 Take each head, and tail, and wing, 



For them is my lady waiting, 

 Tender-hearted, gracious thing. 



See her sitting in her carriage 

 Making all the show she can; 



On her head a cemetery, 

 In her hand a feather fan. 



Yet she talks of love and mercy 

 To all things, in honeyed words. 



While she's decked in borrowed plumage 

 Torn from slaughtered singing birds. 



O, Consistency! thou jewel, 



Teach these women common sense ; 



Teach them, while they prate of kindness, 

 They themselves give rank offense. 



