Feb. 9, 1888.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



28 



Fishin'! Wal, I guess not much. Don't git no time." 

 Sam remembering^tbat this man's nickname was Time, 

 thought he might find it difficult to induce himself to 

 make so great an effort as to go a fishing, for he looked 

 the very "personification of laziness, 



"I haint fishin','" he exclaimed, lifting his feet ashore 

 while he sat on the broad bow of his boat. "I kinder 

 thought I'd go daown t' the San'bar an' git me some sand 

 tu make some mortar. Ben goin' t' patch my suller wall 

 these ten years but can't never git no time, an' I kinder 

 thought I'd look along some for ray scaow boat 'at went 

 off in the high water last spring. Somebody er 'nother 

 tol' a seein' it daown this way in the ma'sh, but I p'sume 

 likely some cuss has stole it 'fore naow. Haint seen 

 nothin' on 't? Painted red oncte an' fixed for a. jack an' 

 burnt some here for'ad where sparks fell on't. Not quite 

 so big 's this one t' I borried, but a darned sight better. 

 Haint seen no such boat?" His slow, inquiring look 

 rested last and longest on Antoine, whose mind was now 

 greatly perplexed, for he doubted not that the boat he had 

 found' was the one now desired and sought for by this 

 man, and it lay within 20ft. of them, where if its owner 

 arose to his feet he must see it, so evidently placed with 

 intention of concealment that they would all be dis- 

 graced. Making the. best of disagreeable necessity, he 

 hastened to speak before one of his friends could: 



"Bah gosh!*' he cried, grinning a well- simulated ex- 

 pression of pleased surprise. "Ah'll b'lieved Ah'll fan' 

 dat boat: pruppus for you seh! an' Ah'll rippair it all up 

 so he was mos" better as he was new. 'F Ah'll had some 

 paint Ah was paint it for you, but he was look pooty 

 good, Ah tol' you. Jes' looked here!'' leading the way to 

 it and beating' aside the rushes with both hands. "Ant 

 dat heem?" 



"Her, Ant wine," cried Solon, correcting him, "her is 

 the propcrest sect to speak of a boat in." 



"0, gotodev'! Dis boats ant dat man's waf, ant it? 

 He'll gat no diffence what you'll call it beems or she, 

 prob'bly*.'' 



"Wal, I'll be darned if that haint my ol' scaow," said 

 Father Time after critically examining the craft and then 

 sitting down on its cinder-scarred bow, with a satisfied 

 and restful air, "I'm almighty obleeged tu ye, Mr. Pea- 

 soup, for takin' so much trouble to save it for me an' fix 

 it up tu." 1 



"Bah gosh! Ah was glad of it, seh, an' de honly ting 

 Ah'll was sorry for Zhozeff an' Solem. Dey can' bose of 

 it sit up on ma can-noe! Dey can' git on Sam 't all! Ah 

 do' know haow dey "11 goin' ti' fishin \s naow, 'less Ah'll 

 buil' raf for it." 



"I p'sume likely you was cal'latin' tu fetch my scaow 

 up tu me jest as soon's you faound aout who owned it, 

 wa'n't ye?" Time asked, casting a comical leer on An- 

 toine. 



"Dat was so!" Antoiue said, emphasizing each word 

 with a gesture. "Ah'll ask it prob'ly free, prob'ly four 

 mans 'f he'll b'long to it. Ant it free", four, Sam?" wink- 

 ing at his friend and beginning to count imaginary per- 

 sons on his fingers. "Le' me see, yas. Ah b'lieve four, 

 he'n?" 



"You might 'f you happened tu see em," Sam said 

 aloud, adding in an undertone to himself, "Duui'd 'f a 

 Cannuck lied n't druther lie 'n t" tell the truth any time, 

 an 'f he c'ld make the lvull toot on us lie for 'im he'd be 

 happy." 



"Haint these fellers water faowl 'nough tu keep right 

 side up in yourcannews, Danvis?" Trime asked, indicat- 

 ing Joseph and Solon by a side wise jerk of his head, 



" Wal, they haint much aster "boatin' in anything but 

 stun boats an' lumber waggins," Sam admitted. 



"Wal, 'f 't '11 be any 'commodation tu ye, I'll leave that 

 'ere scaow for ye an' go hum in mine. It rows easier 'n 

 that, an' I guess Gage won't want his'n for a spell. It 

 won't tip over no easier 'n it rows an' it'll du tol'able well 

 for still-fishin'." 



"Me an' Solon's a thaousan' times 'bleeged tu ye," said 

 Joseph, "we don't want to du no' tippin' over' ner not 

 much oarin', an' it'll du us fust rate 'f the bottom haint 

 made tu come aout when you ketch eels, I'd a leetle 

 druther he v' it 'n yourn." And in reply to Time's inquiring 

 look he related the mishap of last evening to the great 

 amusement of that worthy. When he had had his long, 

 lazy laugh out he arose, and looking awhile at the sandy 

 point not far below, said, with a yawn, "Wal, I b'lieve I 

 won't go daown t' the San'bar tiday, I'll git rowin' 'nough 

 by the time 't I git hum. I can't stan' it t' row much, 

 it makes me sweat. I c'n fix that suller wall arte? hayin'. 

 If you've got some good worms dug, le's g' wup t" the 

 maouth o' the Slang an' ketch a mess o' pike. They'd orter 

 bite to-day. We'll go in the two scaows. What, d' ye say? 

 Me and Peasoup in mine an' the rest on ye in t'other." 



His proposal being accepted they brought bait and 

 tackle from camp and embarked. Antoine took the oars 

 at the bidding of Time and pulled the smaller scow in the 

 lead. The other followed, paddled by Sam with the awk- 

 ward ail of Joseph and Solon. It required all Sam's 

 strength and skill to keep her at all on her course, and 

 even so they had ample opportunity to view the land- 

 scape on every side. When at last they reached the 

 stakes at the South Slang and moored their boats there, 

 they had no great luck in fishing, as Time and Antoine 

 prophesied they would not when they remarked several 

 villainous-looking gar pike swimming about just beneath 

 the surface. Yet now and then a pike-perch was tempted 

 to venture underneath and past these visible terrors and 

 seize the greater danger hidden in the loops of fat worms, 

 when if by the awkwardness of his captors he was not 

 swung overboard to freedom, purchased with a torn lip 

 or jaw, he presently found himself floundering in the 

 bottom of the scow. Once Antoine hauled up an ugly 

 ling which Sam told Joseph was "one o' his bowfins 'at 

 had forgot Ms scales," but Antoine oracularly informed 

 them that this "was de mudder of de heel," for thus he 

 had long since settled to his own satisfaction the vexed 

 question of the eel. 



"You're sartin 'at eels come f'm lings, be ye?" Time 

 asked in a tone that plainly indicated his unbelief in this 

 theory. 



"Yes, sab ! Ah'll seen it !" said Antoine. 



"Wal, they don't ! Du ye want I sh'ld tell ye where 

 eels come from ?" 



"Ah'll ant want you. Ah'll know all of it," Antoine 

 said, but the others signified their willingness to be in- 

 formed. 



"Wal then." said Time, "eels comes f'm clams, them 

 fresh water clams 'at you c'n see thaousan's on any day 

 daown yunder in the shaller water to the San'bar. I 



know it, 'cause I've seen hunderds o' little eels in "em, not 

 bigger 'n pin points." 



"Haow you'll know he was heel 'f he ant more big'ger 

 as pint piiis?" Antoine roared in the big voice the Canuck 

 assumes when he would make himself terrible. 



"Where du eels come from, then?" Time loudly de- 

 manded. 



"Selleeng, and Ah'll tol' you !" Antoine roared again, 

 lifting himself from his seat with a grip of both hands on 

 the seat of his trousers. 



"Clams ! clams ! clams !" Time bellowed in a crescendo 

 so vociferous that it frightened the skimming swallows 

 from their pretty sport in the neighborhood of the boats. 



"Say," Sam said in a lull of the storm of words, " 'f you 

 fellows don't stop hollerin' so you'll hev ol' Uncle Tyler 

 comin' daown here tu see what the rumpus is, not to say 

 nothin' o' searin' all the fish aouten the crik." 



Indeed, the day was too pleasant to be disturbed by 

 even the discussions of science. 



Across the sunny blue sky drifted only silver shreds of 

 clouds, too thin to cast a shadow on the sunlit marshes 

 and shores and quiet waters; throughout the rushy level 

 the marsh wrens discordantly rejoiced over the building 

 of their cunning nests; in the woods the wood and her- 

 mit thrushes rang silver bells and breathed celestial flute 

 notes, and the jangle of a thousand bobolinks came from 

 the meadows. 



The peaceful spirit of the scene presently took posses- 

 sion of our anglers again, and they plied the gentle art in 

 such serenity of mind as its father might desire, till the 

 conch shells' of half a dozen farmhouses reminded them 

 of dinner thine. 



Then Antoine transferred himself to the larger craft, 

 aud Time declining an invitation to return to camp and 

 dine with them, took to his oars, though with much less 

 stomach for rowing than for dinner. 



"O, say!" Sam caLled to him as the lazy wake of his 

 departure began to stir the rushes, " 'f you her a chance 

 tu send word tu a young feller o' the name o' Peltier 

 Gove 'at's a workin'' for' Mr. Bartlett up on the stage 

 rhud, tell 'im 't we're here, an' tu come daown 'f he can." 



"All right," Time answered when his ears had thorough- 

 ly digested the message. 



' Long al ter be had passed out of sight, they could hear 

 the splash of his bars, and his voice unmelodiously cheer- 

 ing his labors with the song of "Old King Cole." 



The shadow of the bluff was creeping toward the 

 northeast when they reached camp, and when the fish 

 were dressed, cooked and eaten, the day was too far 

 spent for the undertaking of any further great affair, so 

 they paddled the scow out of the creek on to the shallows 

 of the bay, and there passed the remaining hours of the 

 daylight in the comfort of perfect laziness. When the 

 mountains loomed black against the afterglow of the sky 

 aud t he star of Split Rock light began to shed its crinkled 

 ray across the darkening waters, they paddled into the 

 gloom of the landing. 



Presently the camp-fire lit up the tent front, the tree 

 trunks, the canopy of leafy branches and the little circle 

 of mossy ground, frayed into the surrounding darkuess, 

 all of the world that they then cared to have illumined 

 for them." Rowland E. Robinson. 



A RAINY DAY. 



ALL day the rain had been falling, not like the usual 

 Florida rains, sharp, fitful showers with glimpses of 

 bright sun between, but with a monotonous drip, drip, 

 drip that was appalling. All nature was in Sympathy: 

 the "sky, usually so clear and beautiful, closed iri a sombre 

 arch just above the treetops; the trees with their branches 

 limp and dripping, the sodden streamers of Spanish moss, 

 the wet tangled grass, all had a damp discouraged look. 

 Few birds were to be seen, they were huddled under 

 whatever shelter they could find, too down-hearted even 

 to chirp. 



We were camped on Captiner Island, Charlotte Harbor, 

 Florida. We bad been having a glorious time fishing and 

 shooting, and the rainy day was just enough to temper 

 the uniform good luck we had had. But though we 

 welcomed the rain gladly at first, it soon became intoler- 

 able, and various expedients were resorted to for pastime. 



Guns were cleaned, fishing tackle overhauled, camp 

 tins scoured, and everything put in apple-pie order — and 

 then what to do? The Cook votes sleep, but the Scribe- 

 will have none of it and decides on a tramp instead. 

 Oil-skins and boots are donned, and we are soon picking 

 our way through the wet bushes toward the interior of 

 the island. The fringe of ti ees and hushes bordering the 

 beach are soon passed, and Ave are in the open savanna. 

 Here is quite a turf, and it has a very decided home-like 

 appearance. With the addition of cows or sheep and a 

 little imagination it would pass for a New England 

 pasture. The few flowers in sight are glittering "with 

 rain drops, while the long grass is bent clown in graceful 

 curves; the heavy drops of water hanging to the under 

 side make each little arch look like a string of peails. 



There is a small dense hammock near the center of the 

 savanna, and we will see if there are any birds there. 

 We pick our way toward the thick bush, now stopping to 

 remove a vine which crosses our path, and now trying to 

 dodge a. shower bath from some bnsh we have disturbed, 

 Soon after entering the hammock the ground descends 

 abruptly, and we find ourselves on the shores of a small 

 slough or pond, perhaps a dozen yards across. Several 

 trees are standing in the dark water, around their base a 

 little hillock of water plants and moss, the trunks a mass 

 of climbing vines. 



On one side and near the water is a huge palmetto, its 

 trunk for the first six feet nearly horizontal and just clear 

 of the ground, then it makes an abrupt bend and assumes 

 an upright position. In the narrowest part of the curve 

 there is another tree across the first, the two forming an 

 admirable seat, which the Scribe appropriates, and there 

 settles himself to take in the situation. The rain has 

 nearly ceased and the sun has been trying for some time 

 to look through the leaden clouds that lie between him 

 and his children. I do not wonder that there are people 

 who worship the sun, it is so necessary to our comfort, to 

 our existence even. We can well forgive the Parsee's 

 answer to the missionary, "My God I can see, yours lean- 

 not." 



In sr'lence, with eye and ear alert, the Scribe awaits 

 developments. Not for long does he wait; callers are at 

 hand; first a cardinal peeps, smirking and bowing, from 

 his shelter in the palmettos; next a jackdaw hops in sight 

 on a half -submerged log and begins a vigilant search for 



frogs. A flock of egrets, winging their way overhead, 

 spy the pond, and making a short turn alight around it. 

 A great night heron sits stately and solemn on a dead 

 branch, while a jay calls loudly from a tall pine on the 

 ridge. Truly here is life enough if one only has eyes to 

 see "and ears to hear. 



But now the clouds open, the sun bursts forth in full 

 glory. The cardinal's dull red is changed to a blaze of 

 light, and every move of the jackdaw shows a gleam of 

 green and purple. The egrets are pluming themselves in 

 the snn, the jay sends out a more jubiliant cry, while the 

 night heron blinking at the bright light draws further 

 into the shade. 



But it is late and we are a mile from camp, aud with a 

 half regretful look around the Scribe gathers himself to- 

 gether and starts for home. What a change an hour has 

 wrought. When we entered the swamp all was wet, 

 chill and gloomy. Now the face of nature sparkles with 

 new beauty. The clinging raindrops that were so dis- 

 agreeable without the sun, are, by its magic influence, 

 changed to jewels bright that tremble on every leaf. The 

 birds, erstwhile cowering under shelter, are now out in 

 force and sending up thanks to the god of day for show- 

 ing his face once more before he retires for the night. 



But here we are at camp, and — "What did you kill?" 

 asks one. "Nothing," says the Scribe. "Well, I told you 

 so," says another, "better had a nap, as I did." "May be 

 so," slowly answers the Scribe, but all the same he is sat- 

 isfied with his afternoon's sport, even if he did not kill 

 anything. 



But the cook shouts "supper," the sun sinks behind the 

 western waters, and the rainy day is done. S. D. If. 

 Tarpon Springs, Florida, 



CHAT ABOUT SNAKES. 



17^ ROM my earliest childhood I never had the common 

 V horror of snakes, and on no occasion let an opportu- 

 nity slip of studying the habits of this much abused and 

 very useful order of reptiles. Though my experiences 

 have mainly been with the larger species, particularly 

 the pythons, I warn my readers not to expect any stories 

 of like size in the following unconnected paragraphs, as 

 all such romances belong in the department of the fish 

 editor of Forest and Stkeam, and I have no wish to en- 

 croach on his special domain. 



I, 



One of my first pets was a summer snake (C. vernalis), 

 captured at the cost of scratched face and hands while 

 picking gooseberries for my mother. No doubt her 

 praises would have been turned into chidings, while wip- 

 ing my bloody face with a damp towel, had she known 

 the contents of a knotted handkerchief, the corner of 

 which I had inadvertently left sticking outof my pocket. 

 After having been promised an extra share of the 

 intended pie, I stole off and appropriated the use of an 

 unoccupied room, where a fresh branch nailed against 

 the wall served as a resting place for my newly captured 

 plaything. It was my usual custom to pay secret visits 

 several times a day, al ways carrying some insect for its 

 gratification; but one morning the door was found a jar. 

 and as I pushed it open our tomcat bolted out between 

 my legs and successfully dodged a vindictive kick aimed 

 at it. My snake was gone and the spoiler also, and for 

 months afterward I was the burden of that cat's life. 

 II. 



In confinement all of the boa family are subject to a 

 disease commonly known among showmen as "canker." 

 Their jaws become much inflamed and swollen, and 

 are filled with sores of a cheesy appearance, much re- 

 sembling tubercles: and as the attack usually occurs after 

 the animal has been chilled, I am disposed to think that 

 the complaint is one of the forms of that malady. Before 

 purchasing, showmen invariably catch the snakes by the 

 neck, and with their fingers gently open their lips to 

 search for any indications of inflammation, and my expe- 

 rience has been that boas are far more subject to the dis- 

 ease than pythons. 



in. 



Judging from the colors of most of the specimens ex- 

 hibited in unnatural conditions, one uninitiated would be 

 apt to say that ,all the large snakes were of dull and 

 dingy tints; but I know of no more potent appeal to the 

 color sense than the rich purple bloom, mixed with a 

 shimmering iridescence, of a thoroughly healthy Natal 

 python (Pijthon natalewris) just after casting its ewiiria'. 

 How few persons have ever seen a snake cast its shed. 

 The animal becomes slothful, scarcely moving, all the 

 lustre of its coat disappears, the film over its eyes turns a 

 milky white and then gradually becomes clear again. 

 This change is a sure indication that it is ready to assume 

 a new dress. It commences rubbing its jaws ard nose 

 against the sides of the cage, and finally succeeds in 

 starting the old skin at the lips. Then by further fric- 

 tion it is gradually loosened from about the head and 

 pressed back on the neck. After that, if the snake is in 

 good health, the process is easier, as by a series of muscu- 

 lar contractions and expansions the old epidermis is 

 thoroughly loosened and slowly moving along. Thus it 

 is gradually rolled back in a mass until the animal liter- 

 ally crawls out of its skin. While once watching this 

 curious process I resolved to assist a large python. Join- 

 ing the tips of my thumbs and forefingers, they were 

 slipped over the animal's head, thus forming a soft, fleshy 

 loop through which it could pass, As it crawled along 

 the successive dilations and contractions could be felt, 

 accompanied by a crackling sound as the old skin parted 

 from the new. At the completion of the operation I held 

 in my hands a mass, feeling very much like moist tissue 

 paper, which, on being carefully drawn out and dried, 

 beautifully showed every scale with the surplus skin 

 which folds underneath them, to serve for enlargement 

 when something has been swallowed of greater size than 

 the usual girth of the animal. 



While rolling it up for preservation the idea occurred 

 to me of introducing a new style of puggary to the 

 dudish element of Durban. A few days after I appeared 

 in the streets puffing a corncob pipe, and with the snake 

 shed twisted around my straw hat I was soon surrounded 

 by a curious crowd and questioned as to where I had 

 obtained my handsome puggary and odd-looking pipe. 

 "Both Natal products," I replied, "and it seems strange 

 to me that you will persist in wearing cheap Birming- 



