408 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



TJ-une 18, 1885. 



they seemed to be so astonished. I was cool and deliberate 

 in my aim for the heart — the rifle fired clear and angry — the 

 report on that blessed Sabbath morn echoed far and wide* 

 over those pure hills. But shall I tell it? Neither buck nor 

 dove moved. I could not see a quiver of the muscles nor a 

 movement of the eyes. They stood stone still until I had 

 reloaded and was in the act of putting ou a cap, which my 

 half-frozen hands did not readily permit, when the doe 

 leaped off followed by the buck. 



I knew the run of the deer so well that I felt satisfied I 

 could cross a ridge by running some 300 yards and head 

 them, as they ran down a hollow that led to the creek 

 bottom, and not a quarter of a mile from the house. I 

 ran with all the speed I could and took my stand almost 

 breathless. Not two minutes passed before I discovered _ a 

 buck approaching me on a slow trot. I let him come in 

 thirty yards, when again I whistled, and as he stopped I 

 fired at his breast, as he was in full front, and he sank to 

 earth without a struggle. Going up to sever his jugular, I 

 found the ball had passed through the entire body coming 

 out near the root of the tail, and lo! there was a hole of a 

 ball passing through him from side to side. I heard no shot 

 that morning, but those I made myself. Was it possible that 

 some one else could have shot this deer so far off I coidd 

 not hear it, and for him to run that distance with the blood 

 dripping from both sides? 1 could not believe it. He looked 

 as large as the one I shot at a short time before, and to sat- 

 isfy myself whether it was the same deer I traced him by the 

 blood to the spot on which he stood, where I first shot and 

 there were two pooh of blood, one from each side, the ball 

 not striking the heart, but an inch to one side. Never before 

 had I known or heard of such a thing as a deer to be shot 

 through and through, and for a minute or two show not one 

 symptom of being struck. I have often related it to other 

 hunters, but never found one having the same experience 

 until the same thing I see related in several late numbers of 

 the Forest and Stream. I got Mr. Watson and several 

 negro men to go with me and bring in the buck. At the 

 very moment we got to the yard gate, who should ride up 

 but my old and esteemed friend Parson Moores, the presiding 

 elder of that district. 



"O, I've caught you at last," exclaimed the parson. "You 

 have been denying" my often-repeated charges and iusinua 

 tions that you hunted on Sunday, and I have caught you in 

 the very act.'' 



"Caught whom? Have I any gun?" said I in reply. 

 "These negroes have the deer." I aud Mr, Watson only 

 accompanie'd them to see it brought up from where it was 

 killed. They may have shot, or Mr. Watson, or somebody 

 else. You did not see me shoot. Don't make such broad 

 charges. Parson." 



"Young man. dare you deny killing that deer on this Sun- 

 day morning? 1 heard, sir, two reports of a rifle as I came 

 over the hills. 1 said to myself they were made by your rifle 

 the moment I heard them, for I can testify to the crack of 

 your rifle as well as I know the sound of your voice or the 

 features of your face. Many aud many a time I have heard 

 you practicing with Orlando Greening. Don't deny it, but 

 come right in here and let me pray to God to forgive your 

 sins." 



Parson Moris was one of the early pioneers to that portion 

 of Arkansas. He was the presiding elder of the district, be- 

 longing to the Methodist Episcopal denomination. A man 

 of commanding appearance, one that would attract attention 

 in any crowd, plain in his dress, conscientious in the dis- 

 charge of his duties, fearless as old Andrew Jackson, and 

 resembling him in many respects. Ever ready to assist the 

 sick and distressed, to comfort the afflicted, and to labor for 

 the cause of his Master. He was no respecter of persons, he 

 rebuked the ungodly whether high or low, rich or poor. 

 When he knew his was right he went ahead, regardless of 

 time, place or persons. He was imperious to the extent; he 

 brooked no disputing with him on subjects of religion; he 

 was a terror to evil doers, but he was respected, feared and 

 hated by those whom he rebuked- Punctilious to a fault in 

 all his doings, honest and sincere, he carried everything his 

 own way in ministerial affairs. The younger ministers stood 

 in dread of him. He could not pardon a fault in what he 

 believed were the Christian duties of both members and 

 divines. I had a very high regard for him, for I knew the 

 man, that there was not the least particle of insincerity 

 about him. He had often spoken to me about reports "that 

 I would hunt on Sunday," which I evaded in an equivocal 

 manner, neither positively denying nor admitting. On this 

 occasion I was so fairly caught in the act, that I followed 

 him into the house as meekly as a chastised setter. 



Watson, who was a very polite and hospitable gentleman, 

 had all the house servants called in to attend prayers, and 

 after reading the chapter concerning the prodigal son the 

 parson prayed such a prayer as I never heard' before. I 

 vowed on my knees I would never again hunt on Sunday. 

 1 have kept the vow religiously since to the extent of not 

 going directly to hunt and never killing game on Sunday. 

 But I have broken it in spirit by sometimes, when I was on 

 my plantation, riding around it, and if my pack of hounds 

 followed me, enjoyiug their cry did they jump a deer or fox. 



Where is the old hunter that could refrain from such en- 

 joyment? As to listening, unless he stuffed his ears with 

 cotton or his fingers, he could not avoid hearing. 



This brings me to Brother M.'s Sunday fox chase. I wit- 

 nessed the incident in Texas ten years ago. Old Brother M., 

 a hardshell Baptist preacher, was an inveterate lover of a 

 fox chase, and kept a splendid pack of hounds. He preached 

 every Sunday to a large and respectable congregation; but 

 during the week days, while working his farm, would take a 

 fox hunt if there came a very favorable morn, or he would 

 have a mule-ear rabbit chase or a moonlight night 'coon hunt. 

 There was no better man living. Everybody liked him, and 

 everybody respected his piety and believed him to be as 

 pure and righteous as it was possible for a mortal to be. 



On that ever to be remembered Sunday morning brother 

 M. had mounted his grand Kentucky thoroughbred hunter, 

 his wife was riding a mare as fleet as the stallion, and his 

 daughter, about 15, and a son, 12 years old, were equally as 

 well mounted. The family lived about eight miles from the 

 church. It was a lovely morning as one ever sees, and the 

 ground and season were just about the most favorable for a 

 fox chase one could desire. 



Unfortunately tor the parson, but luckily for those of us 

 who witnessed the finale, three of his best and fleetest 

 hounds had followed him. This was no uncommon occur- 

 rence, for they often came with him to church, lay by the 

 side of his horse until preaching was over, and returned with 

 him home. The party did not get a mile from the house 

 before a very large fox sprang into the road from the high 

 prairie grass, and, as the parson said, "The devil was in that 

 fox, and prompted by old Satan he took the middle of the 



road and never left it." The hounds that were behind the 

 horses sprang forward in full cry. "At first," Brother M. 

 said, "he did not get excited, and was wishing every moment 

 the fox would leave the road and then he should not have 

 minded it all. But that wicked fox did not intend to do so 

 reasonable a thing. He kept straight forward." The high 

 mettled horse reared and plunged and didn't know why his 

 pastor should hold him back; and then his old lady was get- 

 ting fidgety, aud neither the boy nor the girl could hold in. 

 And when the fox and dogs passed over a little hill and got 

 out of sight, be thought he would let Ned out, "just to see 

 what had become of them." 



"Come on, old woman, let us gallop to the top of the hill, 

 you will see Bet ahead," she wat his favorite bitch. 



The party gained the point, and lo! that Satan-possessed 

 fox was still in the road, and the distance between not 

 lessened by the dogs, with Bet in advance, 



_ "It was more than mortal could stand," as the parson told 

 his congregation, while bemoaning his sius, and confessing 

 his transgressions, "Ned got the bridle between his teeth, I 

 could not bold him down, and he went for that fox with 

 more fire than I ever saw him do before. I just believe old 

 Satan got into him and the other horses, too. It was nip 

 and tuck with us all, the mare tailed Ned and Sal and Jim's 

 horses necked and necked. And my Lord forgive me, I for- 

 got the Sabbath. I forgot everything in the world, wife and 

 children, until I found myself tailing the fox, right here 

 before you all." 



But few persons had arrived at the church when the 

 occurrence took place, as it was not time for services to 

 commence. The church stood on a commanding eminence, 

 with an unbroken prairie from there to Parson M.'s farm. 

 It was undulating most of the way, with a small valley 

 begining about half a mile from the church. Across that 

 rose another hill not so high as that on which it stood. The 

 Parson and his family could be discovered comiug for more 

 than a mile. On this occasion some of the young men were 

 lounging around the premises, and seeing the race and hear- 

 ing the cry of the hounds, began whooping, and all those in 

 the house ran out to see what was the matter. Down the 

 opposite hill could be seen the chase, the fox only a few 

 yards ahead of the three dogs following one right behind the 

 other, and the Parson not a hundred yards back, under whip 

 and spur, bending over his coal black stallion; the old lady, 

 with streaming hair and bonnet fallen off and hanging by the 

 string, urging her mare to her utmost speed, not a neck 

 behind the horse, and the boy in advance of the girl, with 

 hat off and waving it cowboy custom. Down the hill they 

 thundered, the cry of the dogs and the yells of the Parson 

 being plainly heard across the valley and half way up the 

 hill, when Bet seized the fox. By the time the three had it 

 stretched the Parson got there, jumped from his horse and 

 had the fox in his hands before he recollected where he was 

 and the day. Dropping it as quickly as if it had been a 

 piece of hot iron, he mounted his horse and slowly rode to 

 the church. Tears were streaming from his eyes, his looks 

 were dejected. He was mortified beyond expression. Bow- 

 ing to the crowd without saying a word, he tied his horse, 

 all covered with foam, and going into the church, went to 

 the altar, knelt down and prayed the most feeling prayer of 

 his life, bemoaning his sin and begging forgiveness of his 

 people and his Lord. The old woman told some of her 

 friends she could have beat the old man, but she was afraid 

 and held in her mare. Jim whispered it arouud to all his 

 young friends his horse could have passed dad's and mam's 

 at any time, but he thought of the licking he would get when 

 they returned home, and so he held back. The whole thing 

 was laughable and enjoyable, yet everybody felt sorry for 

 the Parson, the saddest picture of woe and sorrow. It was 

 generally remarked, the sermon that day was the most power- 

 ful the old man ever delivered. Geo. D. Alexander. 



Minden, La. 



IN CAROLINA WILDS, 



AFTER some years' residence in Florida, it was deemed 

 advisable that we should spend a few months where 

 we could enjoy the taste of watef that was somewhat cooler 

 than 65° Fahrenheit, where butter was not eaten with a 

 spoon and vegetables not eaten from tin cans, where milk 

 was not offered in a solidified form, and where we might 

 have a season of retirement from fleas, roaches, red bugs and 

 ticks. By devious and dusty routes we reached Spartan- 

 burg, S. C., where we changed to a short road to Hender- 

 sonville, N. C, About midway between these points is the 

 station of Tryon, where we left the cars and proceeded in a 

 rickety "shay" to Lynn, a mile and a half distant, stopping 

 a week at a house kept by a deacon and gentleman who en- 

 tertained summer boarders. A hotter place I thought I never 

 got into, the mercury ranging from 86° to 98°. Near by was 

 Tryon Mountain, half way up which was an imaginary line 

 following the trend of the mountain and called the Thermal 

 Belt. This belt was the theme of much of the deacon's con- 

 versation. We had scarcely shaken the dust off at Tryon 

 before the old gentleman pointed out the belt to us with 

 much unction. He owned or was reported to own several 

 thousand acres hereabouts, which may have accounted for 

 his interest, for in the region of this belt frost was prohibi- 

 ted, or, at least, said not to make its appearance with killing 

 power. Nevertheless, the previous April peaches were killed 

 as dead as the traditional door nail. That was an unavoid- 

 able accident, however, which woidd not be permitted again. 

 Along this belt was a bench, which was somewhat less per- 

 pendicular than the rest of the mountain, where, if the oxen 

 were anchored out, the stones and dirt might be stirred up 

 with a "bull tongue" so that potatoes and other truck might 

 be planted. But a better place for grapes could scarcely be 

 found. They grew wild everywhere. 



I was up on the mountain squirrel hunting one day, and 

 stopped about noon at the cabin of the only resident on the 

 "hill." He had come from the North, and had been seduced 

 by the old gentleman's glowing accounts into settling there. 

 His accounts of men and means were quite the reverse of 

 laudatory. I munched "pone" and drank buttermilk with 

 him and left him to his devices. I shot a few squirrels while 

 in the valley, but fully earned every one I shot. There were 

 turkeys reported, but I failed to find them. 



At the end of a week we bade good-by to Lynn, and one 

 morning look passage in the deacon's conveyance for Tryon. 

 When half way over the ram shackle rig broke in two and 

 we footed it to the station, but the old gent charged us hack 

 fare. 



In Boylston valley, not far from the French Broad, we 

 stayed for a few weeks at private house. The house was an 

 old-fashioned one, fronting the valley and skirting moun- 

 tains. Behind rote mountains, "Old Sharpie" overtopping 

 them all. Along the road was a row of huge oaks tenanted 

 by numbers of flying squirrels which squeaked and gamboled 



as I sat enjoying my pipe in the evening on the piazza that 

 ran the whole length of the house. Houses in this region 

 are not as a rule plastered, but walls and ceilings are ceiled 

 with poplar, dressed and matched by hand, and wonderfully 

 well done too, it being a rare thing to see a crack. 



This farm was the property of a widow, whose unmarried 

 daughter, son and his wife lived with her. The son was an 

 easy-going, good natured fellow, whose going was so easy 

 and nature so good that he couldn't find it in his heart to 

 object to the milking being done by his aged mother, even 

 though the rain poured, as it did quite frequently, the milk- 

 ing being in the open air. Sometimes he cut firewood, at 

 other times I cut it rather than see the widow tackle it. 

 While we were there it became necessary to plow the garden 

 to put in turnips. Bill therefore brought out a wooden 

 mould board plow, such as his great gran'ther used — prob- 

 ably this was the same implement — and proceeded to disturb 

 the soil. But he couldn't do it all at once. The lot was too 

 large, being about forty by sixty feet, so he did part and 

 postponed the rest until it was too dry to plant anything. 

 But he could tilt back in a chair on the piazza and smoke a 

 pipe just as easy. 



It was a pretty valley, not over a quarter of a mile wide, 

 shut in by mountains on either side, and capable of great 

 productiveness. On the mountains near by were turkeys, 

 grouse and squirrels, and further back were deer, while the 

 small streams that tumbled down the mountain sides 

 afforded moderate sport with the rod. Two or three times 

 a week the mail carrier ou horseback kindly brought my 

 mail from the office below, and I was put in connection with 

 the outside world. On Sunday, the mule and horse were 

 hitched to the heavy farm wagon, chairs were put in, pains 

 being taken to avoid the holes in the bottom of the bed, and 

 we rode six miles up the valley to church at Davidson Kiver. 

 If the chair legs succeeded m dodging the holes all went 

 well, albeit roughly; but if a leg fouud a hole then there was 

 a spill and much merriment. 



The poorer class among these valleys and mouutains are 

 not much given to literature, and the daily events of the 

 world at large were of small interest to them. They are 

 "rough and generous and kind," and any assistance in their 

 power is never asked in vain. I thought they were more 

 willing to lend a band in other's work than in their own, for 

 they are social and their little world furnishes but poor en- 

 joyment at the best. A typical "mountaineer" was Fred 

 Allen, who lived down the valley a mile or two, whose lank 

 figure, with his long rifle and hounds were often seen, and 

 perhaps more frequently heard, as he ranged the mountain 

 sides after reynard, encouraging his "pups" with high-pitched 

 and long-drawn halloo. When his rifle cracked it meant 

 dead game. I can see him now as he came into the yard one 

 morning to go deer-driving. His rifle was carried easily on 

 his shoulder with his right arm thrown over the stock. Under 

 his left arm swung a dirty bag of some stout cloth, once 

 white, containing his "grub" and bullets. His hat. was of 

 felt, broad-brimmed, once black, but through much exposure 

 to the elements now a yellowish brown and very limp, To 

 keep it out of his eyes he tipped it back on his head and 

 dashed the front brim over the crown. His shirt was made 

 of a flour sack with part of the brand in large blue letters 

 conspicuous on the breast. He wore no coat, and his trous- 

 ers were held up by one "gallus." His lean hounds devoted 

 their attention strictly to search for stray bits of sustenance 

 around the yard, nothing coming amiss. He was a good 

 specimen of his kind, rough, uneducated, warm-hearted and 

 obliging, knowing the mountains like the deer he hunted, 

 and the streams like the trout that swam therein. 



I agreed to meet him one morning at his cabin to go after 

 turkeys, he knowing their haunts. I was there a little after 

 daybreak, but his wife informed me that a neighbor below 

 had come for him the evening previous to watch a lime 

 kiln and he had not returned. This was unfortunate, but 

 having some idea of the lay of the land, I started up the 

 mountain alone. Part way up I came out on a bench and 

 beheld a most beautiful sight. Fog had settled in the valley, 

 completely obscuring everything from side to side with a 

 dense white mass as level as a floor, seemingly compact 

 enough to walk upon. The sun was just showing himself, 

 and as he rose higher, looking down in growiug power upon 

 that lovely scene, the white mass stirred as though awaking 

 from sleep at the call of its master, and breaking into billows, 

 fantastic wreaths and columns, departed into its owu realms 

 until another night; and day dawned upon the peaceful valley. 

 I had hardly reached the top of the mountain when I 

 heard hounds and knew that Fred was on my trail, so I 

 waited until he and a companion came up, when we pro- 

 ceeded along the ridge overlooking the valley. We found 

 nothing larger than fox squirrels, however, and after going 

 some miles turned to the right aud descended to the valley, 

 upon reaching which we entered a piece of woods, and about 

 midway of it the dogs flushed an old hen turkey and her 

 brood of eight or ten three-quarter grown birds. They flew 

 iu all directions, quite a number taking to the trees, but we 

 looked in vain for them, until our necks were stiff. The 

 timber was thick and the tops dense, and though we did 

 sight one or two, they left just as we did see them, as game 

 is apt to do, and we got none. Leaving the woods we crossed 

 a field toward the main road up the valley aud stopped at a 

 fence to sample some wild grapes that hung in profusion 

 from a vine in a small tree. As we did so it occurred to me 

 that I might return and call those turkeys a while withpos- 

 sible success, as I had my cali with me. Fred said he didn't 

 care about going back, so I retraced my steps, and before I 

 reached the woods heard a turkey calling. I managed to 

 get into cover without being seen and then called my bird 

 up and shot him. Then I went further into the woods 

 where I could, from a little elevation, overlook the place 

 where the birds flushed, and concealing myself in the 

 top of a fallen tree began lo call. In front of me 

 the ground descended a few rods to a level which reached 

 to a fence a hundred yards or so away, the other side of 

 which was a very dense thicket. In the course of half an 

 hour I heard a faint call from that thicket, and in a few 

 moments more I saw the turkey dimly, walking on the other 

 side ot the fence, whistling in young turkey style. He con- 

 tinued to walk back and forth under cover of the fence until 

 I despaired of seeing him on my side. But at last he hopped 

 up and sat there peeping about as long as he had walked on 

 the ground. How I did wish for a rifle. His patience was 

 exhausted at last, and he hopped down on my side and took 

 a few steps toward me. My finger crept toward the trigger 

 as I gently answered his whistle. But he thought better of 

 it ancl hopped up on the fence again. Then after a moment's 

 reflection and two or three agoniziug peeps he hopped down 

 on the further side of the fence and began his watchful 

 promenade. While I was watching him intently aud care- 

 fully calling, another young lost fellow had crept up on my 



