Feb. 26, 1885.1 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



83 



their ropes caught on sticks, brush and trees, and soon are 

 tied up so short that they cannot feed at all. The only way, 

 therefore, it* there are many head of stock in the band, is to 

 turn them all loose, hobbling the horses and trusting to the 

 bell to keep them together. 



After all had been caught, their hobbles were taken off the 

 horses, and they were led away, tied up and saddled. By this 

 time breakfast was usually ready. After it had been eaten 

 the mules were led out, one by one, and their aparejos put 

 on, and were then tied up again while the packs were being 

 made ready. 



The process of packiug need not be described here, but the 

 essential point of it all is to so arrange and fasten the load 

 that it shall neither injure the animal which is to carry it. 

 nor come off either through the usual vicissitudes of a day's 

 march nor through any extraordinary efforts of the pack 

 animal. A pack that is well put on is much less likely to 

 hurt a mule's back than one which is badly fastened or 

 loose, and one which hurts the animal is more likely to come 

 off than if it rides easily, since the mule is constantly trying to 

 get rid of it. It is important, therefore, that the side packs shall 

 just balance each other so that the saddle shall not bear more 

 heavily on one side than the other. Stewart and Sadlemeycr 

 were two admirable packers, really masters of their difficult 

 craft, and during the whole trip no pack ever came off nor 

 was a single mule's back made sore. In saddling and pack- 

 ing, a broad blind, brought together behiud by a thong, was 

 used. The thong was slipped over the mule's long ears 

 which held it in place, and the blind tell down in front over 

 the eyes, completely shutting out the light. With this over 

 its face no mule would move a step. 



As soon as the mule was packed the blind was taken off, 

 the stem of his jaquimo passed over his head, in front of one 

 ear and behind the other, and about his neck and tied, and 

 he was turned loose. After all had been packed, the men 

 mounted and the train started off in single file. Usually Mr. 

 Hague rode in the lead, I followed, and behind me came 

 Stewart, just in front of the cook, who led the bell mare. 

 Then came the mules strung out one after another, and 

 Sadlemeyer, on old Prickly Pear, brought up the rear. 



fa S&wfsntzn §&°wi$t* 



UNCLE LISHA'S SHOP. 



ONE February night when the crusted snow on the ridges 

 and drifts shone brighter than burnished silver in the 

 slanting rays of the newly risen moon, Lisha's friends arriv- 

 ing in force found the old man studying his almanac by the 

 light of his little candle. His spectacles were brought to 

 bear on the page headed with the gray wood cut of ten men 

 breaking and swingling flax, and in the background a pranc- 

 ing horse hitched to a sleigh that he never could break, was 

 being swingled by his driver with a club of a whip. Lisha's 

 forefinger went down the columns of the days of the weeks 

 and month as slowly as ran the cautious weather prophecy : 



..Now expect 

 . cold weather 



and good 



..sleighing for 

 ..some 



;. Sunday) time. 



f® low in South). 



Cloudy 



cold weather and 



likely 



for snow, 



rain 



and 



hail. 



High winds 



and 



(G. Washington b. 1732). 



cold. 



Snow. 



till it stopped at "26, Sat.," and underscored the date with 

 a deep nailmark. "Good airth an' seas!" he shouted. "Boys, 

 did ye know *t this was the twenty-sixt' of Febewary? This 

 is the day 't the oJe bear comes aout! He's seen his shadder, 

 'n' he won't poke his nose int' the daylight agin for forty 

 days. We sh'll hev' a col' March, 'n' like 'nough the wind 

 '11 be north when the sun crosses the line, 'n' then we'll hev' 

 a back'ard spring V a poor corn year." 



"Bab gosh! One' Lasha, ef dat de way you goin' mek 

 wedder, Ah ant want it you mek 'im for me more as a 

 week!" 



"Arghem!" Solon Briggs began, clearing his throat and 

 sticking his thumbs in the arm-holes of his vest, "I hev my 

 daoubts consarnin' the paower of human mortality to fore- 

 tell the comin' futur' weather, which it bein' the case, it 

 haint no way phillysophycable that beasts an' annymills, 

 which human man is sot above 'em, has that segashiousness 

 gin 'em. Haow is wild geese a goin' to know more 'n we 

 do when winter 's a comin', or mushrats to perpare their 

 inhabitations — when they build haousen— for a more 'n on- 

 commonly tough winter, or bears an' woo'chucks know 

 whether the spring '11 be back'ard or for'ad? Haowever 

 notwithstandin', I du not deny there bein' signs gi'n whereby 

 an' by which we can tell suthin' more or less haow the 

 weather 's a goin' to be, sech f'r instance as hawg's melt 

 an' the bus's o' corn, the haighth o' weeds an' et cetery." 



"Wal, Solon," said Sam, "your idees an' mine don't jibe 

 egzackly. You 'low 't a man can tell if it's goin' to be a 

 hard or open winter by lookin' 't a hawg's melt V corn hus's 

 an' so on— but annymills can't tell by nothin'. Naow, I 

 don't b'lieve there's any tellin' by a hawg's melt nor corn 

 hus's, for you'll find dif'fent shaped melts in dif'fent hawgs 

 killed the same day — an' what awdds does 't make to an ear 

 o' corn whether the hus's is thick or thin 's long 's they'll be 

 loosened off 'fore winter anyway? An' the weeds grows tall 

 'cause it's a growin' season, not 'cause the snow 's goin' to 

 be deep. But 'sposen a man can tell by. signs 't he sees. 

 Why can't annymills, 'at can see things, an' hear things, an' 

 smell things 't we can't begin tew? A turkey '11 see a hen 

 hawk 'fore it begins to be a speck in the sky to you an' me, 



an' by seein' or smellin' a crow '11 find carri'n milds off; a 

 fox '11 smell a maouse, or hear him squeak or rustle the grass 

 furder 'n we e'ld see one on the snow, an' he can smell the 

 tech o' yer finger on a bait for a week arter. S wallers know 

 when it's goin' to rain or blow. Mebby they can smell 

 weather. 1 d'know. An' dumb crecturs has got senses 't we 

 ha'n't got, besides hevin' aourn a good deal sharper 'n we 

 hev. Haow does a haoun' dog strike a bee line for hum 

 when he's done a huntin', or a cat 'at's ben kerried in a bag 

 tare mild find her way back, or birds find their way thaous- 

 an's o' miles back an' tew year arter year, or foxes know 

 run ways 'I. they never seen? For my pari, I'd a good deal 

 druther trust to dumb creeturs forete'llin' the weather 'n sea- 

 sous 'n I would to what I c'ld find aout by studyiu' melts an' 

 hus's. I'd druther take a wild goose's or a mushrat's actions 

 'an I would even your word for 't, Solon." 



"You can b'lieve what y'r min' tew, Sammy well, but I 

 b'lieve 'at there is sartin signs gi'n for aour guidancin', which, 

 f'r instance, I wouldn't kill my hawgs or my beef-crutter in 

 the old o' the moon onless I wanted the meat to shrink in the 

 cook in', ner sow my peas in the waning' o' that lunimary 'f I 

 wanted 'em to grow luxuberant." 



"Wal, wal, boys," said Lisha, who had hung the almanac 

 on its nail by the window and got some work in hand, "nev' 

 mind 'baout the signs, an' 'nevermind the weather when the 

 wind don't blow; I'm achin' to hear what luck ye bed arter 

 'coous that day. T hearn 't ye most all went." 



"Ast Joe," some one said, and Lisha asked, glaring at Joe 

 between his shaggy eyebrows and the top of his spectacles, 

 "Haow is 't, Jozeff ? ' Be you cock o' the walk this time?" 



"Wal, I d' know but what I be, 'f ye caount walkin' an' 

 choppin'. I da' say I done 's much o' that 's any on 'em. I 

 'spose 'f I don't give a full 'caount on 't, some on 'em '11 give 

 a fuller one. Wal, I went, an' Peltier he went along with 

 me, 'n' he didn't Uerry no axe; said 't he'd got a lame shoul- 

 der 'n' couldn't chop 'thaout mos' killin' on 'im. It got well 

 to rights, though, for I seen 'im choppin' cord wood nex' day. 

 We started aout 'baout eight 'clock er half-past— mebby 't 

 wa'n't more 'n eight — I d' know, quarter arter, mebby, 'n' 

 struck a track where three 'coons 'd.ben 'long daown in the 

 beav' medder swamp in the night. The tracks went a saun- 

 derin' 'raound hither an' yon, 'n' fin'ly went off up on 't hill 

 east, 'n' then north — no 't wa'n't, 't was saouth — 'n' then 

 east agin V then north 'n' then east, an' s' I to Pel- 

 tier, s' I, they've went int' the laidges 'n' 't a* no use 

 in us folleriu' on 'em; but Peltier, V he, le's us f oiler 

 'n' see where they hev gone. Like 'nough we c'n trap 

 'm aout, s' he. So we follered an' follered, snow knee deep, 

 till bimeby, arter they'd went all raound Bobin Hood's barn, 

 they went towwards the beav' medder agin, an' into 't, an' 

 stopped t' the all-tummuttablest gret big elum in the hull 

 swamp — the tracks did. We sarched all 'raound, V couldn't 

 find 't they'd went any furder, V so I off wi' my cut an' be- 

 gin to chop. An' I chopped an' chopped, 'n' Peltier he stood 

 'raound encouragin' on me 'n' chawin' gum, an' gruntin' — 

 every time I swatled the ole axe int' the" tree, he'd grunt — I 

 tell ye, he grunted like a good feller, 'nough to chop a cord 

 V a half o' wood. That ere ole elum was jes' 's solid as ole 

 pork clean to the middle, 'n' 'twas all o' three foot through, 

 I d' know but three foot V a half — mebby 't wa'n't but three 

 foot through — any way, 't was tougher 'n' a biled aowl, 'n' 

 the' wa'n't no boiler in the butt, V I tol' Peltier, I did, 'at 

 I'd bate a cookey the' wa'n't a dum 'coon in the pleggid ole 

 elum. Wal, I chopped an' chopped, till I sweat like a man 

 a mowin', an' I tell ye I was glad when I see the ole tree be- 

 gin to tottle an' then come daown kersmash ! An' I'll be 

 dummed if it didn't lodge inanulher elum half as big! An' I 

 bed to chop that daown tew, Peltier helpin' on me, chawin' 

 gum an' gruntin'. Wal sir, when we got it cud daown, 

 'baout noon, I guess 't was — mebby arter— mebby not more'n 

 ha' past 'leven— the' was a hole most 't the top big 'nough to 

 hold a dozen 'coons, an' the' wa'n't a dummed a one in it! 1' 

 hed froze jest aleetie towwards mornin', 'n' they'd come aout 

 an' gone off on the crust. But we bed us a heap o' fun, 

 didn't we, Peltier?" 



"Houh!" Pelatiah snorted, "I do' know but what you 

 did." 



"Wal, Samwell," said Lisha, "It's your turn naow." 



"O, I didn't dew nuthin muh. Follered tew int' an old 

 basswood stubb 't I could mos' push over, an' got them an' 

 one 't was in there afore." 



"Jullukyour luck, Samwell," said Lisha. 



"I faound a cur'us kind of a thing in the stub, sort of a 

 'coon plaything, I reckon it is. I brung it along to show 

 ye," said Sam, taking out of his pocket a knot or gnarl 

 about the size of a man's fist, and worn quite smooth with 

 much handling (or footing) by the raccoons. 



"Wal," said Lisha, after this had been passed around and 

 examined by all, Pelatiah chipping a side of it with his 

 knife and smelling it, "Wal, wha' 'd you dew, Solon?" 



"I did not precipitate in the sports and aversions of the 

 day." 



"One' Lasha, what for you ant ask it me?" cried Antoine, 

 "Bah gosh! 'f Ah '11 git all a 'coon what Ah '11 see dat tam, 

 Ah '11 tole so big story you mos' can' b'heve him, sab." 



"Wal, Ann Twine,' 'sposen you tell us what ye seen. I 

 ha' no daoubt that '11 be all 't we c'n swaller to onct." 



"Wal, sah, Ah 'm 's go'n' tole you de trute, jes sem always 

 Ah do. Ah '11 go 'lone, 'cause all what Ah git Ah want 'im 

 masef, jes lak Sam, ant it, Sam? Ef t'ant for dat Ah '11 

 have it somebody for what you call im— m— wisnit? Fus 

 ting Ah say, Ah '11 want you rembler Ah don't goin' tole 

 you where Ah see what Ah '11 see 'cause Ah 'm 's goin' git 

 'im some tam, me. 



"Wal, sah. Ah go fin' track one chat sauvage, folia him 

 leetly way Ah fin' nudder come wid it, bamby nudder, den 

 nudder, den nudder. Ah see so much track Ah mos' can' 

 co'nt it— ten, fifteen, twentee, prob'ly more as tree four tree 

 full Ah guess so. Wal, Ah folia, folia, folia ver' long way. 

 Bamby Ah hear it nowse, mos' lak big hammer ov' dar in 

 de forge, ony he ant go so fas' — Boom! Boom!— so, 'baout 

 fas' you breeze you bress. More furder Ah go, more was be 

 dat nowse louder, an Ah begin mos' be 'fraid, me, but Ah 

 don' care, Ah'U folia dem track till Ah come close to big 

 laidge, an' dat track all go in leetly hole jes' mos' too small 

 'nough for one 'coon sauvage. Den Ah see what mek it dat 

 nowse. Tes, sah, you b'lieve it me. de whole top dat laidge, 

 big, big rock, more bigger dis shawp, he lif up 'baout two 

 ninches ver-y slow— so— den come daown boom! den lif up, 

 den come boom! Bamby Ah'Jl hear it more leetly nowse 

 when rock lif up — Squon-n-n-h! lak One' Lasha mek it when 

 he be sleep, ony not so louder. Bamby putty soon Ah begin 

 be not so 'fraid, an' den Ah'll peeck in hole. Evry tam 

 rock lif up lit shine in so Ah can see; an' what you tink Ah 

 see? More as tree— bonded — tausen chat r-r-raccoon — all 

 fas' sleep! Yes, sah! Evry tam he pull his bref he swell 

 up full of breeze an lif up rock. Wen he let 'im go his 



bref, den rock come daown — boom! Ah'll see it; he so far 

 in off Ah can' git it. No, sah, Ah ant gat not one of it! 

 Das too bad. Oh too bad, too bad !" 



"Wal, I swan to man !" said Solon, exhaling a long breath. 

 "I dew declar, Antwine, you're wus 'n Annynias an' Sophier 

 for on voracity." 



"I move," said Lisha, pitching away his hammer and 

 tumbling his lapstone on to the floor, "I move 'at this 'ere 

 meetiu' dew a journ afore it gits so mad 'at it up an' kills 'at 

 'ere dummed 'taraal lyin' Canuck! An' I sccont the motion 

 an' it's kerried unamous." 



"Dew you ra-ly 'spose," the questioner whispered in 

 Joseph Hill's ear as they went out into the moonlight, f "at 

 Antwine was a lyin'?" 



A HAIL FROM THE GREAT ANTILLES. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



The three-masted schooner Etta M. Barton, Joel Barton, 

 master, will, I am informed by our Consul, leave this pleas- 

 ant harbor to-morrow, fully laden with coffee, hides, honey, 

 cocoa, logwood, and other products of this island, to be de- 

 livered in good order and condition in Boston on or about the 

 fifth of next month, providing that, favored by the early 

 morning land breeze, she safely threads her way through the 

 narrow channels between coral reefs which now inclose her, 

 and escapes equally unscathed the inhospitable reception by 

 northeasters with ' fogs, and northwesters with snow, with 

 which Cape Cod and Cape Ann welcome in midwinter the 

 return of their natives — to say nothing of the intermediate 

 perils so beautifully poetized — 



"If [Bermuda] lets you pass, 

 Then look out for Hatterass." 



She's a taunt and seaworthy-looking craft, and I will take 

 chances on her safe arrival by committing to her my mail, 

 m ost of it gotten up with such difficulty iu the way of chir- 

 ography in a rough sea way, that writing now without hav- 

 ing to hold on to self, ink, paper and desk is a luxury. It's 

 well I am using a pad, though, instead of loose sheets, for 

 although, thanks to the coral circlet which prevents the seas 

 rolling in and joggling, the fresh sea breeze adds to the 

 strength of the trades, and, with my doors and windows 

 open (for, un tempered by the wind, 80° is rather a sharp con- 

 trast to the 30° I left but ten days ago), loose papers go fly- 

 ing and candles go out with most provoking irregular regu- 

 larity. 



Ten days ago we left Norfolk. Nine days ago we took a 

 gale iu. the Gulf Stream; eight days and that gale had the 

 best of us and brought us to the standstill, technically called 

 "lying to." Then it sobered down with a headwind so fresh 

 and with such a tumbling sea, that for five days life was a 

 burden, not to be even temporarily laid down in sound sleep. 

 But; on the seventh morning, land ho! right ahead; and 

 soon after we were in smooth water under the lee of Turks 

 Island and Salt Cay, and a dozen or so smaller islets with 

 reefs innumerable. Through the channels between, in places 

 over two thousand fathoms in depth, we steamed into the 

 Caribbean Sea. It has always been a wonder to me why the 

 coral insect, capable of retaining life and paying attention 

 to business until his structures grow nearly to the surface, 

 should so generally select the deepest pot-holes he can 

 find to start from. 



As we have approached the Bahamas our history has fresh- 

 ened up, and several of us, looking at it from different points 

 of view, have proved beyond question that Columbus did dis- 

 cover and land at first — take your choice of the islands, San 

 Salvador, Wattlings, Cat Island and others. One thing I 

 know, my respect for that brave old Genoese is much in- 

 creased as I go over his track. On this great, comfortable, 

 well-found in every respect steamer, with good charts, in- 

 struments of precision, and plenty of men capable of using 

 them, with full knowledge as to the bearing and distance of 

 our destination, and of all of the dangers of reefs and cur- 

 rents that lie before us; while he, in his little dugout, was 

 plodding along, with no chart, no chronometer, no certainty 

 even that he had a destination nearer than Purgatory. 



We would have gladly stopped at Turks Island and wit- 

 nessed the manufacture of salt; still more to have stopped at 

 Salt Cay, in the village of which, composed of perhaps fifty 

 weather-beaten and sunburned buildings, many of great 

 size, devoted doubtless to the storage of salt, and used as 

 homes, stood the most prominent of all, an immense snow 

 white structure surmounted by a flagstaff, on which floated 

 our flag, it was evidently our Consul's; and as we neared 

 and passed it, w r e all agreed that an evening with him on one 

 of those verandahs with suitable accompaniments would be 

 far preferable to a trip leeward to St. Domingo, Our patriotism 

 responded to the sublime and exceptional fact that the house of 

 the United States Consul, at Salt Cay, at least was the best 

 one in town. 1 have seen an U. S. Counsulate sold and made 

 servants' quarters for that of the English Consul— this in 

 Yokohoma; and I've dined with an U. S. Consid, a venerable 

 man and relative of the historian Prescott, with his family 

 in what he called his bungalow, but what was generally 

 well-known to be an ex-stable which he had fitted up — this 

 in Colombo, Ceylon — and lots of our Consuls live almost on 

 charity, but that is none of my business. 



The trade winds sweep fiercely over these islands, and had 

 1 a friend deeply infected with malaria 1 would advise him 

 to get board for the winter in, if possible, the Consul's estab 

 lishment. But we couldn't stop; it wasn't in the orders, 

 and hurried on. The next morning found us off Porto Plata, 

 a quite important town in a commercial point of view, but 

 so illy provided with safe harbors that our stay was but a 

 short one. The harbor is but a cul-de-sac, guarded by coral 

 reefs, and with an entrance between them of but little over 

 a cable's length, and in depth but three or four. In a bright, 

 clear sunlight, with a fresh trade wind driving the blue 

 waves over these barriers, and transforming them into 

 masses of snow white surf picked out with green, with a 

 good steamer well in hand, and certainty as to position, 

 these coral reefs have a wonderful beauty; but in dark 

 nights and storms they are terrible, and already, though we 

 have been among them three days, twice as many wrecked 

 vessels, that have met their fate since the last summer (for a 

 single hurricane would have swept away every vestige of 

 ihem), have been passed. 



I have feasted on fresh oranges, bananas, and, greatest 

 treat of all, alligator ppars, and to-morrow I'll have fresh 

 flying fish to change my menu, and perhaps a turtle. There 

 are rumors of birds in the forest waiting to be shot; great 

 flocks of doves of two varieties — one kind no bigger than a 

 sparrow, of quail and wild goats ; and on some of the reefs 

 the fisherman can enjoy himself. Some day I hope I'll 

 learn something about some of these things. Until then, 

 an rcvoir. Piseco. 



Cape Haitian, Hayti, Jan. 19. 



