42 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



IFeb. 10, 1887, 



Address aU commurrfcationa to the Forest and Stream Pub, Co. 



SAM LOVEL'S THANKSGIVING— I. 



BEING SOME MISSING LEAVES OF "UNCLE LISHA'S SHOP." 



ONE gloomy day in November several of Uncle Lisha's 

 friends, realizing the fact that it rained too hard to 

 "work aou' door," that it was too wet even for comfort- 

 able hunting, and that it was too late in the season for 

 fishing, betook themselves singly and in couples to the 

 shop to pass away the time which hung with unendur- 

 able heaviness upon tbeir hands at home. There was a 

 genial warmth radiating from the full-fed rusty little 

 stove, and a mild sunshine from the kindly face of the 

 old shoemaker that made the rude interior seem exceed- 

 ingly comfortable in contrast with the dismal chill and 

 dampness of the outdoor world, and the clatter of the 

 hammer on the lapstone was a much more cheerful sound 

 than the leaden patter of the rain on roof and pane and 

 fallen leaves. But though the newcomers gave some im- 

 passive signs of appreciation of the change from outdoor 

 discomfort to indoor comfort, they seemed to have brought 

 in with them too much of the exterior atmosphere; it ex- 

 haled from then- wet garments and dulled spirits till their 

 host felt it and resented it. 



"Good airth an' seas! boys, what's the motter ails ye, 

 all on ye? Ye aint no sociabler "n a passel o' snails holdin' 

 a meetin' 'n tinder a cabbage leaf! 'Taint a fun'el. By 

 mighty, it's wus, for the' haint no preachin' ner singin', 

 ner even sighthin' ner eryin'. Why don't some on ye up 

 an' die an' kinder liven up things a leetle mite, hey?" 



While Solon Briggs was swelling up with explanatory 

 words too big for speedy utterance, Joseph Hill remarked, 

 as he searched all his pockets for the pipe and tobacco 

 that he never knew where to find, "I 'spect, as JoelBart- 

 lett says when he takes a notion to start' off on a preachin' 

 tower, 'at we've all on us got a weighty consarn on aour 

 mind, Uncle Lisher." 



"Wal, Jozeff lies spoke, an' that's incouragin'. Naow 

 let another, as Brother Foot says in prayer meetin'." 



"Jozeff's speakin'," continued Uncle Lisha, after wait- 

 ing a moment for a response, "puts me in mind o' his dawg 

 'at he uster hev, 'at nob'dy never knowed to du nothin' 

 on'y eat an' sleep, an' bark a' folks goin' 'long 'baout the' 

 business, an' at the moon nights, when folks was extry 

 tired an' wantin' t' sleep more 'n common but couldn't, 

 'caount o' his 'tarnal bowwowin' an' yollopin'. Jozeff, 

 howsever, was alius a tellm what a good dawg lie was, 

 an' even went the length o' sayin' "t he was harnsome! A 

 yaller dawg, an' harnsome! Haint that so, Jozeff? Don't 

 ye deny it !" he roared, glaring at his visitor between his 

 eyebrows and the rims of his spectacles as he began to 

 fashion a slow, dubious "wal" with his lips. "Yes," he 

 continued, "good an' harnsome, he said he wus. You never 

 seen a man 'at bed him a dawg 'at wa'n't a braggin' 'baout 

 him on some pint. That's one reason 'at I don't hev me a 

 dawg. I haint no gift o' braggin'. 'Nuther is, I haint no 

 use for a dawg in my business. Wal," picking out the soggy 

 "heel" of his pipe with a crooked awl, "one day when 

 Samwill here an' 'mongst 'em was exhaltin' of the' horns 

 an' a blowin' on 'em 'baout the haoun' dawgs, Jozeff he 

 up an' bigin blowin" his'n abaout liis'n. Someb'dy nuther 

 ast him, 'What' 11 he du V Did he ever tree a coon?' 'No,' 

 says Jozeff . 'Er hole a woo'chuck?' 'No.' 'Er drive a 

 k'yow er a hawg ?' 'Wal, not ezackly drive 'em.' 'Er ta' 

 keer o' the haouse?' 'Wal, he's alius there, but I do' 

 know 's he raly takes keer on't.' 'Wal, then, what on 

 airth is he good for ?' 'Wal,' says Jozeff, says he. arter 

 c'nsid'able c'nsid'rin', 'he's comp'ny !' An'," said Uncle 

 Lisha when he had blown through his pipe after clearing 

 the stem with a waxed end, "I'll be dum'd 'f I wouldn't 

 druther hev Jozeff Hill's bV yaller dawg for comp'ny 'n t' 

 hev sech a consarned mumpin' set as you be." 



The only responses were a general though feeble and 

 perfunctory laugh and an apologetic remark from Solon 

 Briggs that "when the caloric of the warmth had pene- 

 trated the water aouten their garments they would be 

 more .conversationabler," which Antoine endeavored to 

 make more easily comprehended by explaining, "Yas, 

 One' Lasha, when we'll got aour froze t'aw aout well got 

 aour speak t'aw aout." 



A little later the constant searcher for information 

 broke the silence by asking Joseph Hill, "Whatever be 

 become o' that 'ere dawg 'at Uncle Lisher ben speakin' 

 on?" 



"MM sol' him tu a peddler," said Joseph with a sigh 

 of regret for his lost companion, ' 'M'ri didn't never set no 

 gret store by dawgs, though the' be women 'at likes to 

 hev a dawg 'raound, for all the' makin' b'lieve hate 'em- 

 likes to hev 'em 'raound to lay things outer, bad smells an' 

 sech, an' broken airthenware, an' 1 1' 'buse — wal, I do' 

 know as 'buse ezackly, but tu vent the' feelin's on. But 

 M'ri never 'bused Liern, though I don't think he raly 

 'nj'yed her comp'ny, 'specially moppin' days an' when 

 she was sweepin' aout." 



"Wal, I do' know's I blame anybody much for mum- 

 pin' sech weather," said Uncle Lisha, relenting, as while 

 he ground the pegs from the inside of a newly topped 

 boot, he gazed abstractedly out of the rain-pelted little 

 window, upon the blurred landscape; the sodden dun fields 

 bounded by the gray wall of mountain with its drifting 

 coping of 'mist— all dun and gray but for one poplar that 

 shone like a pale flame among the ashy trunks and 

 branches of its burned-out companions, and when a gust 

 fanned it, showered down its yellow leaves like sparks 

 from a flaring torch. "I do' know 's I blame any on ye 

 much; sech weather 's tumble hefty on the sperits, 'F I 

 bed me a pint, er niebby a quart o' cider brandy, er ol' 

 Jamacky sperits, I raly b'lieve I'd git so condemned boozy 

 't I couldn't see aouten the winder— 'f 't wa'n't for makin' 

 an' mendin' these 'ere dum'd ol' boots an' shoes, I would, 

 by golly blue!" 



"I snum! I sh'ld like ter help ye, Uncle Lisher," said 

 Joseph Hill, smacking his lips. 



" 'N' it's mos' Thanksgivin' time," Lisha went on; "I 

 b'lieve the day's ben sot by the Gov'ner, haint it? Seem's 

 'ongh I seen it in the last V'monter. Jerushy!" He called 

 so loudly and suddenly that it startled all his guests, and 

 again "Jerushy!" with a roar that made the battered 

 stove pipe jingle. "Be you deaf or be you dead?" 



"What — on — airth?" asked the mildly astonished old 

 matron as she opened the door just wide enough to let her 

 nose and voice into the shop. I 



"Gim me that 'ere last paper; I wanter see 'f Thanks- 

 givin' day 's 'pinted. It's eyther in the stan' draw, erless 

 in the cub'd, 'f ye haint got some 'o yer everlastin' yarbs 

 spread onter it in the chahmber." 



"Yarbs!" Aunt Jerusha replied from the "house part," 

 where she could be heard wrestling with the refractory 

 stand drawer and then rummaging among papers, ' ' why, 

 good land o' Goshen, Lisher, my yarbs was all dried an' in 

 the' bags 'fore ever that 'ere paper thought o' bein' printed! 

 Naow, seem' 's 'ougb you took it to wrap up Miss' Bart left's 

 bootees in t'other day. O' no, here 't is"— reappearing in 

 the doorway — "I b'lieve, le' me see," 'trom boning' the 

 paper to get the proper focus of her glasses, "October the 

 thirty— yes; here Lisher," groping her way to her lord 

 through the tobacco smoke and rubbish and legs of visitors, 

 and then as through the reek, she began to recognize one 

 and another — "O. hope I see ye well, Mr. Briggs, an' Mr. 

 Hill, Miss Briggs an' Miss Hill, be they well? Tumble 

 spell o] weather we're a hevin' on. Why, haowduyou du, 

 Samwill? Be you well, Antwine? an' haow's your womern? 

 My! haow you men du smoke! I can't scasely see who's 

 who. Wal, I s'pose terbarker is comfortin' sech weather 

 for them 'at c'n stan' it, but I never could," and she re- 

 treated, tapping her snuff box as she went. 



"As if snuff wa'n't terbarker!" Uncle Lisha snorted 

 after her; "Le's see," spreading the paper on his knees 

 and staring at it naked-eyed while ho wiped his glasses 

 on his shirt sleeve; then adjusting them astride his nose 

 with unusual care. "Le' me see — 'Scott an Eaymon' offer 

 — m — m — 'Patrick Foster, groceries an' p'visions' (an' boss 

 rum) m — m — m— 'B. Seym'r, hats an' caps an' highest 

 price fer fur' — 0, here 't is— 'Proclerrnatiern by the 

 Gov'ner — 'Cordin to suthin nuther usage 'n' so f 'th, 'n' so 

 f'th, lim — m — m— I du hereby 'pint Thursd'y the twenty 

 sev'mph day o' November as a day o' thanksgivin'.' 

 Wonder what they alius hev it come a Thursd'y for, and 

 Fast Day Frid'y? Dum'd 'f I know. An' 'lection day an' 

 taown meetin' an' the leegislatur' begin settin' a Tuesday. 

 Mebby that's so 's 't the men c'n hev clean shirts on; 

 though the' haint time for i'nin on 'em — more likely it's 

 cause the men folks is fresh f'm the disciplyne o' washin' 

 day, an' more cal'lated to du the' duty. Hm! so Thanks- 

 givin' comes tew weeks f'm nex Thursd'y, hey? What be 

 I goin t' du f'r a turkey, I sh' like t' know? We haint 

 raised none, an' I can't 'ford to buy one, an' I've got tu 

 ol' an' dim-sighted t' shoot one tu" a shootin' match — do' 

 know 's the' 's goin t' be one, anyway." 



" Yas," some one said, " Hamner 's layin 'aout t' hev a 

 turkey shoot, Thanksgivin'." 



"Ya-us," Joseph Hill contemptuously assented, "he's a 

 cal'latin tu hev what might posserbly be called a turkey 

 shoot. He's got him fifteen er twenty leetle teenty 

 tawnty faowls 't he calls turkeys — hatched in August, do' 

 know 's they was fore September, nary one on 'em bigger 

 'n a cardy bird* — do' know but they be bigger 'n cardy 

 birds, but pliggid little to speak on, an he'll set 'em up 

 forty rod, I do' know but fifty, at a York sliillin' a shot! 

 The' haint nob'dy erless it's Sam here, c'ld hit one shootin' 

 a week that fur off. 'N' one on 'em would n't more "n go 

 'raound 'mongst tew hearty folks — do' know 's the' 'Id be 

 'notigh for tew. He liedn't ort to set 'em up not to say 

 more 'n fifteen er twenty rod, ner ast over 'n above fo'- 

 p'nee ha'p'ny a shot, at sech leetle teenty tawnty insi'nifi- 

 cant creeturs, an' then he'd make money aout on 'em." 



"Hamner is tew narrer, c'ntracted an' peniverous tu be 

 very satisfactual tuhis pairings," Solon Briggs remarked. 

 "He is a very parsinumerous man." 



"Did ye notice haow Solon's bloat went daown," Joseph 

 whispered huskily, nudging with his elbow the ribs of his 

 neighbor on the seat behind the stove, "when he got them 

 big words aouten on him?" He'll hev one on 'em in him 

 some day 'at'll swell up an' bust him 'fore he gits red on't, 

 see 'f he don't. Do' know "s it'll bust him, but it'll strain 

 his riggin' terribly — yes," he said aloud, in confirmation 

 of Solon's opinion of the unpopular landlord, "he's all o' 

 them. They du say as he waters his ol' Medford rum 'at 

 costs him thirty cents a gallem, an' him a sellin' on't at 

 fo'pence ha'p'ny a glass. Anyways, it's dreffle weak. A 

 man 'ould git draounded in't 'fore he'd git tu feelin' good 

 on't. I guess he would putty nigh." 



"Good airth an' seas! I don't b'lieve the critter keeps 

 nothin' but hoss rum. Tew drinks on't clear 'ould knock 

 a feller higher 'n Gilderoy's kite, so it's a massy to them 

 'at drinks it 'at he does thin it wi' water," said Uncle 

 Lisha, as he generously daubed the edges of the tap with 

 lampblack and oil. "I tell ye what you du, Samwill, You 

 gwup to Hamner's turkey shoot an' git me a turkey — git 

 tew f ye'r a minter, an' come t' aour Thanksgivin'. The' 

 '11 be a* turkey for me 'an Jerushy, an' one for you — one 

 for us tew an' one for you tew, 's the Irishmun said when 

 he was dividin' the four dollars 'twixt himself an' his tew 

 f rinds. Er she c'n hev the necks o' both — she's alius a 

 tellin' haow the necks is the bes' part of a faowl, an' you 

 'n' I'll take the stuffin' an' what's left. I'll pay for tew 

 shots an' you pay for tew, an' 'f you can't git tew turkeys 

 aout o' four shots you haint the man 't I take ye t' be. 

 What d' yo say, Samwill?" 



"I'd a good deal druther git ye some patridges, Uncle 

 Lisher. Dum this blazin' away "at a poor mis'able turkey 

 sot top of a barrel with his laigs tied, scairt half to death 

 with the balls zippin' raound him. 'Taint no fun for me. 

 I'd druther go out in the woods an' git ye tew three pat- 

 ridges." 



"Well, patridges then," said the shoemaker, "I don't 

 keer, on'y patridges aint ezackly sech reg'lar Thanksgivin' 

 meat as turkeys is." 



"But the' 's more meat in one good Tom patridge 'an 

 the' is in the hull flock o' Hamner's turkeys," said Joseph 

 Hill. Then, after a little consideration of this statement, 

 "Wal, I do' know 's the hull on 'em, but half on 'em, say." 



"Wal then, call it patridges," said Uncle Lisha. with a 

 sigh of resignation. "We'll go it on punkin pie an' pat- 

 ridges. Will ye git 'em, Samwill?" 



"You sh'll hev 'em, Uncle Lisher," Sam said, sitting 

 upright from leaning against the wall, his promise em- 

 phasized by the creak of the roll of sole leather he sat 

 upon, " 'f the's any in the woods." 



"O, the woods is popular with 'em," said Solon. 



"I scairt one aouten my woodshed yist'd'y mornin', er 

 mebby 'twas day 'fore yist'd'y mornin', any ways I scairt 

 one aout on't when I went aout arter kin'lin', an' I tol' 

 M'ri on't." 



"Proberly the's so much wood in your shed, Jozeff, 'at 

 he thought he was in the woods," said Uncle Lisha,whit- 

 tling a plug of tobacco on his cutting board. 



* Nuthatch. 



"Bah gosh!" cried Antoine, who had long suffered with 

 silence, '"f dey don't tick in de hwood! an' he don't 'fraid 

 more as hen was. Bah gosh, fodder day, seh, when 

 Ah'll was be choppin' in de hwood dey was one of it flewed 

 raght in ma face an' Ah'll bite hees head wid ma momf ! 

 Ah'll peek ma toof more as two nour 'fore Ah'll got de 

 fedder off of it. Bah gosh, Ah'll got allde patridge Ah'll 

 wan' for heat more as dis year, dot tarn, me." 



"Git Antwine to set his maouth an' ketch ye some, 

 Joseph suggested. 



"He'd pizon 'em with his dum peasoup lies," growled 

 Uncle Lisha, as he brushed the tobacco into his hand and 

 began grinding it between his palms. "Say, Samwill, 

 haow was you a-cal'latin' to spend yer Thanksgivin' this 

 year? Naow, 'f yer goin' huntin' forme, I want ye t' 

 'tend right tu yer huntin' an' nothin' else." 



There was a roguish twinkle in the corner of the eye 

 nearest the reclining hunter as the old man asked, "Boys, 

 I do' know's I ever tol' ye 'baout this 'ere gret hunter's 

 a-goin' foxhuntin' one Thanksgivin' Day back o' Pur'n'- 

 t'n's, did I ?" 



" Uncle Lisher," Sam drawled in a slow, impressive 

 monotone, "if you raly want me t<u git you some pat- 

 ridges for Thanksgivin', you don't wanter tell no stories 

 baout my Thanksgivins." 



"You mean it, Samwill ?" Lisha asked, pausing in the 

 lighting of his pipe till the match began to fry the wax 

 on his thumb. 



"Sartinly I du," Sam answered. 



"Wal, then," said Lisha, "I want them patridges, an' 

 I got t' hev 'em," and though Antoine cried " Tol' it, One' 

 Lasha, tol' it! What you cared? Bah gosh, Ah'll know 

 where dat turkey Hamny's roos', an' 'f Ah don't gat vou 

 more turkey as you'll heat an' A'n' Jerrushy in four day, 

 Ah'll give you masef for roas'! Ah'll bet you head, boy, 

 dat Sam shcot fox an' he'll ant bit heem!" and though all 

 beset him importunately, the old man utterly refused to 

 tell the story, and presently his visitors departed in as 

 bad humor as they had come. As they separated at the 

 door yard gate to go their several ways, the inquirer 

 turned back to ask, "Say, Jozeff, haow much did M'rier 

 git for that 'ere dawg?" Rowland E. Robinson. 



[The untold story will be given next week.] 



CANADIAN GAME AND FISH RESORTS. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



In a recent number of your paper I see that you invite 

 travelers and subscribers to send in information relative 

 to hunting and fishing grounds of which they ha ve knowl- 

 edge, for the benefit of others, the shortness of whose out- 

 ings will not permit them to spend time in seeking for 

 hunting grounds; and as I have recently returned from an 

 extended torn- in the Canadian Northwest, I will briefly 

 sketch the hunting opportunities offered by the various 

 localities in which I stayed. Taking the localities in the 

 order of their proximity to Toronto, first is Sundridge, on 

 the Northern Railway, eight hours due north of Toronto. 

 I did not stay here long enough to do any shooting myself, 

 but gathered what information I could and took special 

 notice of all incontestable tangibilities in the way of spe- 

 cimens and photographs. In front of the Queen's Hotel, 

 at which I stayed (and where, by the way, the sporting 

 visitor will find excellent accommodation, and in Mr. 

 Jackson, the proprietor, a genial and sympathetic host), 

 lies Stony Lake, surrounded by hills, still clad in primi- 

 tive forests of pine. 



As 1 am no fisherman I can get up but little enthusiasm 

 on the subject, and as the fame of this lake as a 

 trout pond has already been published abroad by your 

 paper, I shall do no more than say that here the keenest 

 piscator my sate his appetite for sport in a single week. 

 I was shown photos of newty caught trout taken "100yds. 

 from the verandah ." and was told the weights of various 

 specimens up among the pounds, but I did not make notes. 

 Deer are plentiful almost in the "town." Moose also are 

 found near by, while partridges and other small game 

 are abundant. While I was there a large lynx came out 

 of the woods near by the hotel. I went after him, but 

 failed to get a shot. 



My next stop was at North Bay, Lake Nipissing, 10* 

 boms from Toronto. I spent a day around the locality 

 ascertaining the sporting possibilities of the region, 

 which, by the way, is not by any means of the boreal 

 character that most of us imagine. Through the kind- 

 ness of Mr. Burke, of the Pacific Hotel, I was enabled to 

 make a general inspection of the country about the town, 

 and was not a little surprised to see what promise of a 

 great future lay in the unlimited stretches of fine rolling 

 land — true, it is at present covered with a heavy growth 

 of timber, composed chiefly of white pine, black spruce, 

 red cedar, balsam, tamarac, hemlock, white, yellow and 

 sweet (lenta) birches, sugar maple and swamp" elm, with 

 a few oaks and beeches in limited localities, but there is 

 no doubt that many a hopeful emigrant who spent nearly 

 his all in transporting himself and his family to the 

 dreary summer-frosted prairie solitude of Minnesota and 

 Manitoba, within recent years, would if he again had a 

 chance to strike out, hasten gladly to settle in the long 

 hidden though rich loamy lands of the Nipissing water 

 system, where he would no longer feel himself banished 

 from civilized life, and where he would be less persecuted 

 by the climate and better supplied with wood to meet its 

 inclemencies. 



North Bay is situated just on the fine of demarcation 

 between the respective ranges of the caribou and the Vir- 

 ginian deer. Whde judging from the heads that I saw 

 the moose also must be plentiful in this region. I was 

 shown the head of what I, in my simplicity, took for 

 some sort of whale; but I was "told that it was only 

 a 221bs. lake trout! Jackfishand speckled trout also are 

 abundant. I once met a New Yorker who had visited the 

 country to the south, some seven years ago; ho said that 

 there was simply too much game for sport. In one morn- 

 ing they could catch more trout and kill more deer than 

 they could consume in a fortnight, so he came away only 

 half satisfied and never returned. Certainly the game is 

 much less abundant now in the immediate vicinity of the 

 town, but still Parry Sound District and the shores of 

 .Lake Nipissing must be looked on as excellent hunting 

 grounds. For the second essential, guides, I refer visitors 

 to Mr. Burke, and as to hotel accommodations, I do not 

 think that the most fastidious New Yorker will find fault 

 with any of the arrangements or appurtenances of the 

 Pacific. 



On the C. P. R. , along the north shore of Lake Superior, 

 I stayed at Schrieber, and again at Port Arthur. At both 



