366 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Dec. 1 , 188?. 



An All-around Gun.— New York, Nov. 25.— Editor 

 Forest and Stream: The writer who has used almost 

 every gun now before the ohooting public in 10, 12 and 

 16-gauges. from all the celebrated makers, including 

 Scott, Clabrough, Parker, Colt, Ellis and others, both 

 with hammers and hammerless. has not yet struck on the 

 style that just suited him. He has had two or three of 

 different weights and gauges in order to be prepared for 

 anything from a quail upward, namely in 10, 12 and 16, 

 light, medium and heavy weights, but has found that 

 two or three guns are too much for an ordinary mortal 

 to look after. In traveling one is handicapped by the 

 extra weight and amount of ammunition to be carried 

 for one or more guns of different calibers. My shooting 

 is mostly in thick cover for partridge and woodcock, oc- 

 casionally quail, where a chokebore is of no use and a 

 short cy Under bore necessary. I also occasionally take a 

 day with the ducks, where a chokebore is essential. The 

 gun I have in my mind is a 10-bore of some good maker, 

 with two sets of barrels to fit the same stock, one set short 

 cylinder bored. 26 to 28in., the other set 30in. in length 

 and chokebored. Do you not think such a gun from the 

 hands of a good maker would about meet the require- 

 ments of a Subscriber ? 



Auxiliary Rifle Barrels.— Appleton, Wis. — Editor 

 Forest and Stream: In your issue of Nov. 24 "J. S. W." 

 asks for experiences with auxiliary rifle barrels in shot 

 guns. I have used one for seven years, chambered for 

 .44-75grs. straight shell. My gun is an old-fashioned 

 Remington and the rifle barrel is one of their "cast steel," 

 or at least is so branded. It was put in by a local gun- 

 smith and fits the bore of shot barrel from breech to muz- 

 zle so tight that I have sometimes not removed it for a 

 year at a time, and I have found the inside of shot barrel 

 bright as silver. I have an extra extractor so arranged 

 as to extract rifle shells the same as shot. Barrel can be 

 inserted or removed in about two minutes. It would not 

 be practicable to carry it in the hand to insert at short 

 notice, as is advertised for the "auxiliary barrel," but 

 once in place, with the cartridge I use, it is as accurate 

 as any rifle I have ever used. My gun is 12-gauge, 28in. 

 barrels, and the rifle barrel adds just 21bs. to the weight. 

 For a handy gun in this country it is a "daisy" and is not 

 for sale. With a set of Lyman sights fore and aft, it is 

 ready for any game about here. Any further information 

 would be cheerfully given.— F. U. R. 



Erie, Pa., Nov. 28. — Ruffed grouse being reported as 

 plentiful this season, it was decided by a friend and my- 

 self to spend Thanksgiving day in pursuit of them. We 

 accoi'ding went twenty miles south of here, but as it rained 

 steadily all day our time, was in our opinion, better oc- 

 cupied under the sheltering roof of a farmhouse, than 

 tramping through the woods in a soaked and uncomfort- 

 able condition. Naturally we shot no birds, but we did 

 not return "empty-handed." We bought some of a man 

 who had shot them the day before, and strange as it may 

 appear we did not afterward claim to have killed them, 

 although, judging from what we heard, the practice is by 

 no means uncommon with some of the "sportsmen" in 

 this vicinity.— Chetko. 



Cache Creek, B. C, Nov. 9. — I have had very little 

 time this fall, so far, to engage in my favorite sport, deer 

 stalking, although I did kill two last month, October, for 

 the pot; one was a fine buck and excellent eating; the 

 other one I gave to a friend, who needed it more than I 

 did. I think there could now be had here excellent sport 

 if a party of two or three had time to camp for three or 

 four days on the mountains. — I. L. 



Dover, Del. — The shooting season opened here Nov. 15. 

 Partridges are plentiful, but in most sections rabbits are 

 scarce. Woodcock are numerous. Along the extensive 

 marshes bordering the Delaware Bay wild ducks abound 

 in great numbers. Many Philadelphians are here enjoy- 

 ing the sport. — Del. A. Ware. 



UNCLE LISHA'S SHOP. 



[From the New York Times, Nov. 20.] 

 VER YBOD Y is supposed to know something about this Yankee- 

 land and its representatives, such topics having been worn to 

 death in books and on the stage. And yet if you read what Mr. 

 Robinson writes, whether you be born in Maine or Louisiana, you 

 must be charmed with the book, which is different f rom anything 

 we have yet produced. It is as local, as peculiar, as faithful, as if 

 Mr. Cable were writing about his Creoles, Miss Murfree of her 

 Tennesseeans, or Mr. Harris of Ms negroes. In our pride we sup- 

 posed that the verbal phrasing of the Down Easter was familiar 

 to us. But our glossary was scant, narrow, and the gamut of the 

 New England voice wanting in a note or two. We may not be so 

 much to blame for this, for Mr. Robinson does not give us exactly 

 the talk of to-day, but presents us with the Vermonter of, say^ 

 1830; and this method of talk of half a century or more old, if not 

 a storehouse of fossil words, is at least of the highest interest. It 

 is an art to be cleverly phonetic and still understandable, and this 

 happy knack Mr. Robinson possesses. 



The mere imitative quality, however, would not alone give this 

 book its peculiar cachet if it were not for the true humor and 

 tenderness the author possesses. "Uncle Lisha's Shop" is but a 

 sketch of New England life in some little settlement cut off from 

 the rest of Vermont, retaining through isolation "the primitive 

 manners, speech and customs" of the early settlers. Uncle Lisha 

 is a shoemaker, and in his shop the neighbors hold "high 'change." 

 Here they come to tell their stories. Some of tbemlove sport, and 

 thei-e is a gallant young fox hunter and turkey-shooting man, and 

 a Canadian, and old Gran'ther Hill, a veteran of the Revolution, 

 who tells most astounding yarns about "Ethin Allin, Hubbar't'n 

 an' Bennin't'n." Ann Twine, the Canuck, as he is called, is a 

 sharp, shrewd man, who talks in French lingo and cuts his Eng- 

 lish something like Daddy Jack in "Uncle Remus." In their dry, 

 queer way the company in Uncle Lisha's shop are already trying 

 to crack their jokes at Ann Twine's (Antoine's) expense, but he 

 invariably replies with spirit. At fh-Bt the word "jalluck" was 

 difficult to assimilate, but it was a way they had of clipping and 

 condensing "just like." 



I^^A Yankee courting scene has always its peculiar humoi 1 , and 

 has been written over and over again, but never so gracefully and 

 prettily as when sweet Huldah and Sam Lovell, the great fox 

 hunter, meet. It is the old story. Just as the words are faltering 

 on Sam's lips, and the blushing buxom Huldah, who loves Sam 

 with all her heart, is to be made happy, then the hound Drive, 

 who is outside the house, begins his music. Drive has found the 



whereabouts of the fox, and Sam Lovell must, with a true fox 

 hunter's instinct, follow Drive; and so poor Huldah never hears the 

 last final word of a ha lf declaral ion . Then Huldah steels her heart 

 aud tries to forget Sam. Sam docs kill his fox after along chase, 

 and says as he bags him: "You've cost [me more'n any fox ever 

 cost a man afore, or sen the' was foxes an' men an' women folks 

 in this world." But little Sis, Huldah's sister, was lost in the 

 wilderness, and the whole settlement was in the woods looking 

 for her, and Huldah was wild with grief, and her mother in fits, 

 then it happened that Sam was bee hunting. He ought to have 

 been mowing, but the roaming "shoolin' " instinct had fast hold 

 of him. Sam was after honey. He finds little Sis wandering 

 aimlessly in the thickets and very kindly and gently does he care 

 for the affrighted child, and he brings her back to her home. 

 Will Huldah resist him now? Sam, when little Sis is in her 

 mother's arms, discreetly retires. "Who did fetch her?" some 

 one asks. "Sam Lovell, an' the good-for-nothin' cleared right out 

 an' never said a word." He could not have gone far. "Samwell 1 

 Samwell Lovell!" she called softly, running out toward the road. 

 "Was you a callin' me, Huldy?" a low voice answered out of the 

 dusk. * * * The tall form of her lover came out of the gloom, 

 and the big sister was in the strong arms that had just brought 

 home the little sister. * * * "Sam," said Huldah half an hour 

 later, "you haven't never tol' me whether or no you got that 'ere 

 fox?" "I hain't never had no chance," he answered. 



Mr. Robinson's conclusion is touching. Uncle LiBha makes up 

 his mind to leave Vermont to join his son who is out West, and so 

 announces his intention. There is gloom at Danvis. All his 

 cronies are in despair. There is Gran'ther Hill who fights the 

 notion tooth and nail. "Wal, Lisha," he says, "haint you 'shamed 

 o' yersel' a desertin' of yer country at your time o' life? I never'd 

 ha' thought it of a man 'at had fout tu Plattsburg. But that was 

 in York State. Yon wouldn't ketch a man 'at bed fout tu Hub- 

 bar't'n an' Bennin't'n leavin' Vermaount, 'at he'd fout for. Durn 

 yer 'Hios and Westconstants! West damnations they be, the hull 

 on 'em, full o' fever 'n' aag' an' snakes an' Injins an' all God's 

 cusses." And Antoine says: "You was be so lonesick you come 

 dead raght off, hose of it, an' Jerushy, you see 'f he a'n't." But 

 Uncle Lisha and his Jerusha have made up their minds. It is 

 their only son they are seeking. They sell their houschould goods 

 at a "wendue," visit the graves of their firstborn, and then Lisha 

 says to his dear old wife: "We've said good-bye to them 'at's 

 nighest to us. Aour rhuts is pretty nigh pulled up." Later on 

 Sam Lovell is after bees. Once more he has his box full of the 

 bees, and one by one they make a line for an old house. There is 

 a swarm of bees who have stored their honey in the clapboard of 

 Uncle Lisha's old house. "Wall they c'n stay there for all o' me,'' 

 and Sam goes quietly in and looks around. There is a poppy 

 growing in a crack of the sill and a partridge springs from the 

 floor, whizzes through a window of the deserted house and sails 

 into the woods. "The fog o' the ol' stories hangs 'raound here 

 yet," Sam soliloquized, "an' wild creatures takes aB nat'ral as tu 

 the woods tu Uncle Lisher's shop. Come, dog." 



We seek realism and believe that only the greatest of the Rus- 

 sian authors has it. But here it is near home, alongside of us, for 

 Mr. Robinson has traits of originality, humor, tendernesB and 

 poetic feeling, which render "Uncle Lisha's Shop" a truly delight- 

 ful book. 



m mi §ivtr ^wiring. 



Address all communications to the Farcst and Stream Pub. Co. 



ON THE GASCONADE.-IV. 



ANOTHEE day dawns upon us bright and fair. What 

 beautiful weather we have in autumn ! It is of the 

 four seasons the only one of which we may boast. Our 

 winters are too cold; our springs — we have none; we leap 

 from winter into summer, and our summers are too hot; 

 but our autumns! they are glorious. They last so long, 

 the temperature is so equable, and all nature pats on such 

 a lovely garb. The grasses from green to brown and red, 

 the woods in all the luxuriance of an hundred shades from 

 somber to gay, give us a wealth of colors. 



"The corn is cut, the manor full of game; 



The pointer ranges, and sportsman beats 

 In rustic jacket— lynx-like in his aim; 



Full grows his bag and wonderful his feats." 



He fishes, too, and dabbles in the water, and if he is a 

 et, sees in nature, next to woman, the greatest of all 

 auty. 



!*fBreakfast over, we made a run of some five miles, and 

 the cook was landed on a pleasant, shaded, wooded spot, 

 to get up a grand noonday feast. There was fish galore, 

 and the ducks and squirrels killed the day before were 

 turned into a burgoo, which, when it had received its 

 final dash of cayenne pepper, sent to the olfactories a 

 most appetizing odor. The boys were out on the river 

 fishing, and the cook had leisure to enjoy the preparations 

 for the meal. When, with the aid of the stores on hand 

 and the game and fish he had prepared, he had ready a 

 royal feast, he raised his voice in a Swiss warble that soon 

 brought the stragglers home. This was par excellence 

 the meal of the trip, and the party took time to enjoy it. 

 I would not dare to state how much was eaten for that 

 dinner. But all things have an end, and at last even the 

 boy could hold no more, the dishes were washed and 

 packed away, and we resumed our journey down the 

 river. 



One of the most amusing incidents of our cruise took 

 place in the afternoon. The big boat had been stopped in 

 a beautiful place, in order that its occupants might fish, 

 and Frank had been meeting with some success. On the 

 left a mountain arose somewhat steeply. All at once a 

 noise was heard in the leaves some twenty yards from 

 the water's edge. Billy had the gun, and, remembering 

 Mr. Riddle's story of the deer, was all alert. The others 

 were peering, too, to see what they could see, but nothing 

 could they discover only the rustling of the leaves. "It's 

 a deer," whispered the boy. 



"Or a bear," said Frank. Still the movement in the 

 leaves. At last Billy could stand it no longer. He raised 

 the gun, deliberately aimed at the spot whence emanated 

 the noise and fired, when such a squeal issued from the 

 mouth of a pig which had been rooting there as has sel- 

 dom been heard before. Billy's face grew longer and 

 longer, while the laughter of the others grew stronger 

 and stronger. From that time on to say deer, or bear, or 

 pig, to grunt or to squeal, would bring a lowering cloud 

 to our Billy's brow. He was very tender about it, until 

 at last he got fighting mad, and to keep peace in the mess 

 we had to desist from all allusions to illusions. The cook 



had better luck, for he caught, among others, what he 

 thought, when he was playing him in the water, was the 

 biggest fish, but which proved to be, though a grand bass 

 indeed, a half inch shorter than the one caught by Will 

 and already described. Will and Frank also had fair 

 creels to report. In addition, all three of us had caught 

 by this time, with minnows, specimens loin, long of the 

 blue cat, and found them to be good fighters. 



We went into camp, named after the cook, no matter 

 what, on an island; a delightful place. Gravelly banks. 

 Plenty of wood. Pretty view up the river. Light supper — 

 too much dinner. Went to bed early. 



The next morning found us determined to run down so 

 near to Arlington that we could reach that place easily 

 the following day. We had no well defined idea of where 

 we were, though we had figured out "by dead reckoning" 

 that we should be about twelve miles from our destina- 

 tion. After paddling away for a mile or two we saw a 

 man upon the bank and inquired how far it was by river- 

 to Arlington. He replied that it was thirty miles, and 

 when we expressed surprise, insisted that he knew. We 

 haven't made up our minds "till yit," as old Buck Tilden 

 used to say, whether that fellow was a born idiot or a 

 Herculean prevaricator. We didn't believe a word he 

 said, and yet our faces grew wondrous long, for we had 

 timed ourselves and we were not the men to fail. Will 

 and I had the fish box in tow, and though it was modeled 

 like a boat, and floated very nicely for a short pull, it 

 began to assume the proportions of a sea anchor. We 

 proposed to the boys to leave it. This involved the 

 slaughter of our fish, but the sacrifice was soon made, and 

 we left our lath ship, a very fair rival to an American 

 man-o'-war, standing on its broadest end, to fall a prey to 

 any locum tenens who might discover it. Released frorn 

 the load we fairly put our backbones into the paddles and 

 away we went as merrily bobbing along as one would care 

 to do. Presently we passed another na-tive (accent on 

 both syllables and the i pronounced long). He had a 

 kind of wild expression about the eyes as we approached 

 him, but evidently thought better of disappearing in the 

 underbrush, and upon inquiry told us that he had run a 

 raft from the identical spot upon which he stood to Jer- 

 ome from daylight to 2 o'clock P. M. , and returned home 

 on foot the same evening. He evidently thought that 

 this statement gave us the exact miles, furlongs, rods, 

 yards, feet and inches of the distance, and, if not exact, 

 it did answer the purpose sufficiently well. We con- 

 cluded, at least, that we were sufficiently near to our 

 destination to justify us in seeking camp and taking 

 things easy, as we were not due at Arlington until the 

 next day. 



As we floated along more leisurely quite an event oc- 

 curred — we saw a woman; yes, a woman, a veritable 

 woman; a young and very pretty woman. Most Missouri 

 politicians are familiar with Major Diegel's story, to the 

 effect that the first time he left home for an extended 

 stay at the capital, Mrs. Diegel very earnestly told him 

 that when he remained away from home until a calico 

 dress looked to him like silk he could be sure it was time 

 for him to return to the protecting care of lus wif e. 

 Well, we had been away from home, and even from the 

 sight of dimity, so long, that calico looked to \is like silk 

 and a white sun bonnet more radiant than a chef 'oVoeuvre 

 of the Paris boulevards, and as this sweet piece of femin- 

 inity, mounted like a goddess of mythology upon a fiery 

 and beautiful steed, flashed through the fringe of trees 

 that bordered the stream and took the water of the ford 

 in advance of us, with a big black mountain just beyond 

 to throw her form into bold relief, each plunge of her 

 horse sending a myriad of diamonds flashing into the air 

 before her, two old benedicts who should have known 

 better, dropped their paddles on the gunwales, and with 

 eyes wide open drank in the beauties of the picture with 

 palpitating hearts. For as fresh and as rosy, as supple 

 and as graceful as love's young dream, was this dear little 

 maiden of the Gasconade. Her "jewlarky" came along a 

 few paces after, spurring to catch up. Bah! There was 

 nothing romantic about him. His long legs tucked in his 

 rather overgrown boots, his sun-browned coat cut for high 

 water, and his tow locks dragging from under the brim of 

 a broad slouch hat, presented anything but a graceful 

 appearance. But absolutely this must have been sug- 

 gested by our William out of sheer jealousy of the fellow, 

 who maybe the very minute it was said had overtaken the 

 angelic form a short distance down the road, and was, 

 with her, laughing and cracking jokes about "them 

 gawks in that there boat at the ford." 



Just below this ford was a succession of rapids, and as 

 the road skirted the river, we coidd, as we danced over 

 the bubbling water, every now and then catch a glimpse 

 of our swains as they went riding lovingly on together, 

 and somehow the sight had a tendency to reconcile us to 

 the approaching close of our vacation. The only draw- 

 back to these outings of ours is that they are made to ex • 

 elude the women. Why should they be? Is there any 

 experience in them that they would not relish? Are 

 there any beauties of the mountains and the valleys, the 

 springs, the brooks or the rivers that they would not en- 

 joy with a keener appreciation even than do we? Then 

 the flowers and the foliage! How very much more they 

 know of them! Then think of their dainty hands about 

 the table and tent— what cosy pictures they would them- 

 selves make, and what delightful camps they would 

 create. Oh, yes, by all means take the ladies. They will 

 enjoy it ever so much. They are not such tender exotics 

 that they cannot bear a breath of fresh air upon their 

 faces, or a drop of rain upon their heads. And if they 

 are, all the more need have they for the health and 

 strength that come from an out-of-door life. Read Genio 

 C. Scott. See how the ladies have enjoyed the backwoods 

 of Canada, even despite the black gnats. See how Lady 

 Brassey has followed her husband into every sea. Our 

 word for it, American women would be the better for 

 more of the woods and the streams, and less of the hotels 

 and the routes. The writer thanks the Giver of all Good 

 that the woman he has carried in his heart this many a 

 year, the mother of his children, the partner of his sor- 

 rows and his joys, would rather spend a day upon the 

 Gasconade, laving her little feet in its waters, paddling 

 about on the clean gravel, or taking from it as dexter- 

 ously as need be its princeliest bass, than to pass an even- 

 ing in the most brilliant baLl room, even though there is 

 still spring in her step and gayety in her eye. 



Well, well, this is a long digression, and all caused by 

 one little woman. 



We had not gone far below the ford alluded to above 

 before we had an unique race with the big boat. First 



