FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Jan. 21, 1863. 



I notice in the daily papers this morning that horses 

 are worth only about $13 a dozen in Australia. At Great 

 Bend, Kan., where they have the coursing meets, they 

 are not worth that much. 



A straight wisp of faded hair stuck out from the small 

 coil at the back of her head. 

 "Air you the druggist?" she asked. 

 "I am, madan," he replied. 

 "L^adin' druggist a' the city?" 

 "Without doubt, madam.' 1 

 "Keop all the moderndeat remerdies, I s'pose'r" 

 ■ 'Certainly. " 



"Got any o 1 this yer bi-chlorate o' gold?" 



"We have the bi-ehloride, yes, madam. We are Dr. 

 Keeley's exclusive agents." 



"Same thing they gives to drunkerds to break 'em o' 

 drinkin'?" 



"Precisely." 



"Does it cure drinkiu?" 



"Make3 a man hate it." 



"Will it cure fits?" 



"Certainly." 



"Care a man o' chawin' terbacker?" 

 "Our guarautee goes with every bottle, and there is a 

 hypodermic syringe in every package." 

 "Go 'way!" 



"Yes, indeed. This is a most wonderful discovery. 

 There have been thousands of cases — " 



"Does it make a man come home reg'lar o' nights?" 



"If it does not, we will cheerfully refund the money." 



"Jest nacher'lly breaks a man o' every bad habit he 

 ever had?" 



"Madam, the moral renovation experienced by patients 

 submitted to this treatment is comparable only to the ab- 

 solute purification and rejuvenation of the entire physical 

 man." 



"Dear me suz!" 



"Most cases yield to a few bottles, but it is well to be 

 safe, and take along about — " 



"I'll take six bottles, ef you think it'll help my hus- 

 band." 



"Madam, what is the matter with your husband?" 



"Matter with him? Say, man, do I look like you could 

 insult me? I guess I orter know bim." 



"Yes, but what is the trouble with him?" 



"Trouble? I guess I orter know. lie's more trouble 

 than the hull rest o' the fambly, an' they's nine of us 

 now. Trouble 1 I sh'd think he wuz!" 



"But what is his complaint?" 



"Complaint? Look at here, now man, do I look like a 

 w om man 'at 'd stand talk like this? Complaint? He ain't 

 got no mortal complaint in the world, not with a wife 

 like me! It's me that's got the complaint!" 



"But what's wrong with your husband — what does he 

 do? Does he use tobacco?" 



"Wuss'n that." 



"Drink?" 



"Wuss'n that." 



"Gamble?" 



"Wuss'n that." 



"What?" 



"Goes huntin'!" 



The druggist heaved a long sigh, "Madam," said he, 

 "I fear the ease is hopeless." 



Jan. ./(>.— Mak-saw-ba Club held a business meeting last 

 night. The constitution of the club was changed, so as 

 to make the annual dues f 50 instead of $25. A rebate of 

 §15 is made on all dues paid before March 1. The offices 

 of secretary and treasurer were consolidated. An appro- 

 priation was made for fencing the entire marsh owned by 

 the club. This will cost $1 ,300. E. Ho u< in. 



GUIDES AND GUIDED. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



I would like to say a few words in my defense if you 

 will grant me space in the columns of your paper. I 

 noticed in your Dec. 24 issue a report from St. Louis from 

 one "Aberdeen," who states that Bud Weaver and party 

 had returned from an eight- day trip near Bald Knob, 

 Ark. And he wishes "to warn hunters against so-called 

 guides, who will conduct parties to regions where game 

 is scarce," which was the experience of his party. That 

 was the experience of Mr. Bud Weaver I'll admit. But 

 why? Mr. Weaver would not hunt under my instruc- 

 tions; he had ideas of his own, and would only hunt 

 where it suited him. He hunted about half a day in a 

 plantation in the grass, expecting to jump them up like 

 rabbits, I suppose. 



I am sorry to state that he misrepresented the time 

 they hunted; they were in camp not quite seven days; 

 and it rained hard one day all day till Punting was out 

 of the question, and two more days were spent hunting 

 according to Mr. Weaver's ideas and one day in driving 

 with dogs; and that only left three days to hunt accord- 

 ing to my directions. The three days one of the party 

 accompanied me. The first day we saw four deer, one 

 stopped at about 60yds. broadside, but I was unable to 

 get Mr. H. to see it till it ran ; he then scored a miss. 

 The other got away without being shot at. The second 

 day five deer were sighted, and fourteen shots fired at 

 them ; one five-point buck got up at 50yds. and we fired 

 nine shots at him, but lie got away without a scratch, 

 The third day three deer were sighted, and one shot, I 

 think, was all that was lired. 



Mr. Weaver fails to state, 1 suppose, that he shot at 

 squirrels, owls, etc., whenever it came handy (which is 

 quite often in Arkansas) ; and in the name of goodness, 

 who can expect to find deer when they are firing a 10- 

 bore shotgun every few minutes? And who can expect 

 to kill deer when placed on a stand, and after jumping 

 one and it ran contrary, would not stay till the drivers 

 had time to call off the dogs and try again? Such wai 

 the case with Mr. Weaver and party the last day in the 

 woods. And after riding over two miles at breakneek 

 speed to turn the deer through the stands, T succeeded in 

 putting four fine ones through, and not a man there. I 

 will leave the reader to guess who is to blame. 



I wish Mr. Weaver would write up bis views on the re- 

 quiremerts of "so-called guides." Does he expect a 

 guide to know the exact spot where a six-point buck 

 takes his daily nap and quietly to surround him, and the 

 guide to go in and say "shoo!" and out he goes to be rid- 

 dled with buckshot? Or does he expect to discover a 

 place where deer can be found and jumped up at 20yds. 



rise? And wild turkeys done up in 5-cent bunches? The 

 party while iu camp sighted some twenty-five deer, and 

 I know of twenty shots being fired; and still Mr. Weaver 

 "kicks." Does he want the earth and the fulness thereof? 



Harry EssmxcJek. 



Baij> K nok, Arkansas. 



HEALTH AND A MOOSE IN MAINE. 



''IMdE front doors of a down town bank in New York 

 JL had closed after an unusually busy day, in which 

 everything had seemed to go wrong. The cash had not 

 balanced, a bad counterfeit bill had been received un- 

 noticed, and the employees were cross and tired. List- 

 lessly counting out bills at a desk in this bank was a 

 young man, almost exhausted, his heart heavy and 

 weary and bis mind far from his work; the fact was, he 

 was overworked and nature was rebelling. I was the 

 young man, and I knew the cause of my ill health quite 

 as well as nature; but saw that no good could come 

 by rebelliug, so kept quiet, I had noticed the cashier 

 looking at me rather sharply several times of late, and 

 the cause was explained when he came up to me and, 

 laying his hand on my shoulder, said, "Young man, I've 

 been watching you often the past week, and have come 

 to the conclusion you can't stand it here another day. 

 You need a change and a radical one. I've engaged 

 some one to take your place for five weeks, which will 

 probably give you time to recuperate. 1 would advise 

 you to go to Maine hunting." 



To say I was overjoyed at this would be putting it 

 mildly. I went directly to the office of a lawyer chum, 

 where I found him looking pale and tired like myself. 

 He was an excellent hunter and I soon had his approval 

 to my plan of a five weeks outing in Maine, without 

 guides; and I knew if he approved of that 1 could get 

 him with a little urging. He went with me to the studio 

 of our artist friend, whom we found only too ready to join 

 the party; and, after much poring over maps and guides, 

 we selected the south branch of tlie Penobscot River, Me., 

 as our chosen field. We engaged passage on the steamer 

 Lucy P. Miller, which plies between New York and 

 Baugor; and the third day after our first talk found us 

 on board the Lucy, with tent, rifles, cooking utensils 

 and everything necessary for a long outing. 



The Lucy's jolly captain seemed to regard our hunting 

 trip in the light of a huge joke. When we filed in the 

 dining room to partake of our second meal on board he 

 slyly glanced at us, muttering, "Three bold hunters from 

 New York; three bold hunters from New York. Were 

 there not three young men killed by bears in Maine a 

 feAv months ago?" he asked of the purser. 



"I believe there were, sir," answered the purser. 



"There were three young men who went up with us in 

 July," the Captain continued, "who were going to kill 

 deer by the dozens; when they came back their clothes 

 were in rags, their shoes soleless; I had to lend them 

 money to get home. Ha ha." The purser took up the 

 ha ha, and it was faintly echoed by a few passengers. 



We looked sad, but had our revenge later. We found 

 out the weak spot in the Captain's armor— he disliked to 

 answer questions, so the first thing we did when seated 

 at the table was to open fire on him. At a signal from 

 the one stopping, another would take charge of the bat- 

 tery, and so we would continue until a cold, steely look 

 from the Captain warned us he had enough. We slept 

 on board the Lucy Thursday night at Bangor and ar- 

 rived at Mt. Kineo at 4 P. M. on Friday. 



We bought provisions to the amount of $17 at the Mt. 

 Kineo store and two canoes, one valued at $10 and a 

 smaller at $11. Here we discarded our city clothes and 

 "boiled shirts" for the more comfortable flannels, cordu- 

 roys, moccasins, etc., and hurriedly paddled out into the 

 center of the lake, anxious to get the full effect of the 

 landscape, for we had heard and read many accounts of 

 the wild, rugged scenery of Moosehead at this hour, and 

 when the sun finally took his last peep at stately Mc. 

 Kineo, his rosy face reflected so many varied and beauti- 

 ful colors on the glassy water and sky that we were held 

 in enchantment, and did not reach Farm Island until it 

 was too late to pick out a good place to pitch our tent, so 

 after building (as we thought) a rousing all night's fire, 

 we lay down to sleep with the sky as our roof and a rocky 

 beach as bed. About 1 o'clock I awoke to find the fire 

 burnt out, and it seemed as if the thermometer had 

 dropped 10 so cold had it grown, and yet my companions 

 were snoring peacefully. I started another fire, picked 

 out a place where the stones looked unusually soft and 

 small, and incasing myself in a big red army blanket, 

 tried to snore as loud as my companions. But it was of 

 no use, the fire went out at 3, and being too cold and lazy 

 to start it again, I slumbered and froze alternately until 

 morning. 



We paddled up the lake to the Northwest Carry in our 

 canoes instead of going by steamer, as is the usual method, 

 and it was well for us the water was moderately smooth, 

 as Moosehead is apt to kick up some pretty heavy seas in 

 the late fall. 



We were welcomed heartily at the Seborne House, 

 Northwest Carry, by mine host F. Lane, who dined us 

 and carried our canoes through the woods a distance of 

 two miles, when we came to a small stream. Launching 

 our canoes in this we paddle up it for a mile when we 

 come out into the broad beautiful Penobscot, and the 

 change is indeed gratifying. 



Would that our minds could always be as contented as 

 they were as we paddled up this lovely river, enjoying 

 to the fullest the many pretty pictures nature presented 

 us at nearly every hand. Not a sound disturbed the 

 solemn wildness, but a gentle rustle of the wind in the 

 trees and the dipping of our paddles in the still deep 

 water. Now the thickly-wooded banks rise far over our 

 heads, then deviate to the water's edge into coarse grass 

 and sand, where we see many tracks of deer, who have 

 come to drink. When we come to the south branch we 

 thought the scenery evenmore beautiful than that of the 

 west; immense, dome-shaped mountains looming up in 

 many directions, and when the leaves turned on these a 

 few weeks later they looked like giants' flower gardens. 



We were two days paddling up the river before we 

 reached our destination on the south branch, between 

 Hale and Alder brook. We were delayed considerably 

 by being obliged to drag our canoes over rocks and shoal 

 water for a mile above Dunn's farm, and by a five-mile 

 carry from the Forks to Bog Brook. We were now 27 

 miles from where we had entered the Penobscot and 

 here found an old lumber camp owned by Mr. F. M. 



Cunningham, of Oldtown, who had kindly invited us to 

 occupy it. 



With this camp we were delighted. There were a few 

 things in it that could even be classed as campers' luxuries 

 — an excellent cooking stove, six good lamps, barrel of 

 kerosene oil, and two stationary beds, After making 

 everything as homelike as possible, we planned out equal 

 divisions of the labor to be done at camp. The Artist and 

 the Lawyer were to do the cooking, while I was to set 

 table, wash and wipe dishes, start fire, chop wood and get 

 water; and. lest any one say that this was an unequal 

 division of labor, let me toll them that 80 biscuits entirely 

 disappeared in three days. (They were biscuits we would 

 hesitate a long while before eating at home, too.) And 

 such was our gourmand appetites that after a week's 

 work the cooks declared they had the worst of the 

 contract. 



It was noticeable to see how each one of us took to some 

 particular game as naturally as we had to our chosen pro- 

 fession. The Artist was for bear; at the mention of any- 

 thing smaller bis look of scorn would crush a bed of 

 rocks. Every morning he would betake himself to the 

 woods, and come back just in time for dinner saying he 

 saw bear tracks. We had grave suspicions that he spent 

 his mornings peeking much needed rest. He probably 

 thought we eyed him too seriously on one of these oc- 

 casions, for he came back next day bringing a few 

 partridges: but never during all the long three weeks we 

 were there did he sight a bear, nor, as he owned after- 

 ward, any tracks either. 



The best hunter of the trio was the Lawyer, whose 

 chief ambition was to kill a moose. He fairly haunted 

 Alder Brook, where moose tracks were thick, and every 

 evening would give us an account of the many new 

 tracks there, or of the narrow escape some deer or moose 

 bad had from his rifle. He was unusually late one even- 

 ing, when the Artist unthinkingly shot his rifle to let him 

 know he was late for supper. When he returned there 

 was such fire in his eye we gently asked bim the cause, 

 but received no reply. After eating a hearty partridge 

 supper, he gradually cooled down, and told us the cause 

 of his displea-ure. "I was paddling up the river," he 

 said, "giving up all hopes of getting anything for to-day, 

 when I heard a crashing and cracking quite a distance 

 down the river. I paddled up close to a high bank and 

 waited, as the sound was coming toward me. I could see 

 the low alders that line the river at that point move and 

 bend, and knew either moose or deer was coming. I had 

 watched the alders sway and listened breathlessly for full 

 twenty minutes to the great noise they were making, 

 until they were just on the verge of coming out in an 

 open space directly opposite me, where I could have had 

 a dead shot. At this critical moment your supper signal 

 arose on the air. I heard two deer give their peculiar 

 danger whistle, run a short distance and whistle again, 

 and continue whistling until they were a long distance 

 away." 



This experience only served to make the learner more 

 determined, and when he returned a few days later with 

 a ti ne fawn we were not at all surprised; such perseverance 

 was sure to bear fruit: but instead of his looking pleased 

 there were tears in his eyes, and he looked more like a 

 pall bearer than a successful hunter. "I'm never going 

 to kill another fawn," he exclaimed despondently, "I've 

 heard a great deal about their eyes being human, but 

 never believed they could be so much so until now. The 

 look that poor fawn gave me as I cut its throat haunted 

 me as if I had committed murder." 



The writer was the fisherman. To catch the gamy 

 trout had always been one of the joys of my life. The 

 river was too low for big catches, yet I had good success 

 tempting the moderate sized ones to accompany me to 

 camp and would consider fifteen speckled companions 

 ranging from ^ to 21bs. a good mess. On one of my 

 trouting expeditions I met a gentleman from Boston and. 

 his guide who were passing through the forks; I extend- 

 ed the hospitality of our camp to them, which they 

 gladly accepted. They seemed much surprised at the 

 manner in which we were living. 



"Why, here you are a hundred miles from nowhere 

 and living much better than I do at home," exclaimed 

 the guide glancing at our small library, pantry and some 

 ginger cakes that lay on the table. 



"Were you ever camping before?" asked the Boston 

 gentleman. 



"Yes," replied the Artist, "we were in Maine about 

 three years ago, in the vicinity of Eustis, with nothing 

 to protect us from the stormy weather we had nearly all 

 the time but a small lean-to tent which the guides pro- 

 vided. We tramped many miles each day and never got 

 even a sight of big game, but were game for black flies 

 and mosquitoes. We lived on pork, beans and oatmeal, 

 until we were sick; this time we planned differently." 



" Do you not feel the want of a good guide?" continued 

 our Boston guest. 



"We did while dragging our loaded canoes over the 

 shoal waters and rocks, and that is the only time. If we 

 were following a land route their services would be in- 

 dispensable, but for this inner route, and coming direct 

 to this log cabin, we have enjoyed ourselves much better 

 without one, and it is certainly much cheaper. This trip 

 will not cost us more than $50 apiece at the most." 



The guide seemed anxious to change the subject and 

 began a long story describing his killing the king moose 

 of Maine. We made some old-fashioned molasses candy, 

 and gave some to the guide just as he had come to where 

 he was running around a big tree for the thirtieth time, 

 with the moose closely following. He commenced chew- 

 ing and the story stopped abruptly. As we had heard 

 our Eustis guides tell how they had killed the king we 

 could guess the rest. They seemed to enjoy themselves 

 greatly, however, and when they left laughingly told us 

 not to "dissipate too much. 



The guide's story had made us more anxious than ever 

 to get a moose. We scoured the woods daily, saw many 

 tracks, and some trees whose bark was partly eaten off 

 by these animals. Once we sighted two fine specimens 

 of caribou, but they were too wary for us, and saw us 

 long before we did them. After a week of this kind of 

 hunting we decided to wait for the moose to come to us, 

 it being less trouble and the chances of success being 

 about equal. I w-as beginning to get a little dicouraged, 

 and asked the Lawyer if it was possible the many moose 

 tracks we saw were made by one or two animals. "You 

 heard what the Boston man said," he replied. "He has 

 been all over Maine, and he considers this the best moose 

 and caribou district East." 



