358 



RECREATION. 



But perhaps the most marked and uni- 

 versal characteristic of the true sportsman 

 is his whole souled enthusiasm for his 

 chosen vocation. The truth of this fact 

 was brought home to me some years ago, 

 in an incident of my own experience. 



I had been invited by a friend to spend 

 a few weeks with him, at his home in 

 Northern New Hampshire. It was then 

 late in the year, and, as may well be imag- 

 ined, being an ardent disciple of the fields 

 and the woods, I carried my breechloader 

 with me. 



My entertainer had never experienced or 

 acquired a love for dog or gun. Conse- 

 quently, though I tried my best, I was un- 

 able to inspire 1 im with any desire to ven- 

 ture with me on a trial of fortunes in the 

 chase. As a result of my endeavors in that 

 direction, he promised to introduce me to 

 a gentleman of his acquaintance whom I 

 would be sure to find a genuine sports- 

 man. 



Accordingly, on the following morning, 

 we set out together to exchange friendly 

 greetings with this ardent huntsman. Dur- 

 ing the previous night a light snow had 

 fallen, covering hill and valley alike, with 

 a mantle of sparkling white. As we 

 walked along the road, bordered on either 

 side with stately firs and spruces, bedecked 

 in their shining array, my blood fairly tin- 

 gled, to my finger tips, with an intense de- 

 sire to plunge into th 3 midst of their solemn 

 precincts and dispel, with the ring and 

 echo of my gun, the breathless silence 

 which everywhere pervaded their depths. 



When we had walked half a mile or so 

 beyond the village we came to a small but 

 tastefully constructed farm house, nestling 

 cozily in the midst of a clump of balsams. 

 Its general air, as well as the newly painted 

 farm building, and the orchard with its 

 regular rows of trees adjoining, indicating 

 that its owner was possessed of no small 

 degree of thrift as well as of an eye for 

 the beautiful. 



My friend unceremoniously entered the 

 house, crying out at the same time, "Is 

 Uncle Silas in?" although, as a matter of 

 fact, there was no necessity for such a 

 query. That individual was not only in, 

 but was evidently trying to be everywhere 

 about the house at once, so assiduously 

 was he hurrying from room to room. On 

 seeing us, however, he hastened to greet 

 us, with outstretched hand and hearty 

 words of welcome. 



"In? Of course I'm in, and glad to see 

 you, too!" 



"A friend of mine, Silas, and a sports- 

 man," continued my companion, intro- 

 ducing me, "and he wants you, some day, 

 to show him a bit of our woods." 



The old man surveyed my glistening shot 

 gun critically, meanwhile assuring us, 



while his eyes shone with excitement, that 

 he would have me on the trail of some 

 sport within 30 minutes; for he was, as he 

 said, at the moment of our arrival prepar- 

 ing for a hunt, having just discovered 

 signs of game. 



"Prepare us some lunch, Matilda; we 

 may need it," he called out to his wife 

 as he hastened about again, bringing 

 out his long, muzzle loading rifle, powder 

 and ball. In a few moments his prepara- 

 tions were completed, and, bidding adieu 

 to my friend, we started for the woods. 



For half an hour I followed the steps of 

 my guide through the deep evergreen 

 woods, wondering what variety of game it 

 could be which had so excited him. As I 

 was about to try to draw him into 

 conversation on the subject, unable to re- 

 strain my curiosity longer, he suddenly 

 came to a halt in a narrow ravine and 

 pointed triumphantly at the ground. 

 There, in the soft snow, were the foot- 

 prints of an enormous bear. 



We took up the trail, and started along 

 it at an easy trot, my companion leading, 

 and I following close behind him. We 

 continued in this manner until about noon, 

 when we stopped for luncheon and a brief 

 rest. 



"Curious he ain't hibernated yet," whis- 

 my friend under his breath. "He seems 

 to be puttin' straight for the heart of the 

 White mountains. Guess he intends to go 

 into winter quarters there!" 



Much to my surprise my comrade, with- 

 out a word of explanation, suddenly re- 

 turned the lunch to his pocket with this re- 

 mark, before we had fairly begun on it, 

 and, rising to his feet, motioned me to 

 follow. A little longer rest as well as a 

 few more mouthfuls of the excellent bread 

 and cakes, so typical of New England 

 cooking, would have been most acceptable 

 to me just at that time, but under the cir- 

 cumstances I felt it not my place to ob- 

 ject, and I hastened after him. 



Through the deep twilight of the primi- 

 tive forest we wended our way, through 

 bogs and swamps, thickets and swamps, 

 and over windfalls and deep ravines, until 

 at length the gathering darkness rendered 

 any farther progress, through the tangled 

 underbrush, practically impossible. Every 

 moment I had expected my leader would 

 give up the chase and turn homeward in 

 disappointment, but instead he kept con- 

 tinuously on, his eyes fastened on the trail, 

 every move and action indicating that his 

 zeal was momentarily increasing rather 

 than abating. And now, instead of turning 

 back in dismay, he on the contrary pro- 

 ceeded to build a fire at the foot of a huge 

 fir, remarking that he guessed we would 

 stop there for the night. 



