.S16 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Apbil 13, 18955. 



northward, familiar even in the darkness. Mingled with 

 the gusty roar of the wind, they heard the note of a hound 

 swelhng and falling among the rugged corrugations of 

 the nearest hill, a persistent, plaintive voice, as sad and 

 lonely as the cry of some perturbed spirit doomed to 

 nightly wandering. 



"Thetsaounds julluk Sam's ol' Drive," said Uncle Lisha, 

 after giving an attentive ear to the soxmd. "I hope Sam's 

 got in, fer I wanter cum kerslap ont' the hull caboodle on 

 'em, an' s'prLse 'em alf tu oncte. There," as the sudden 

 report of a gun was blown short and echoless down the 

 wind, "there goes his gun, tu caU the haoim' off. Drive 

 slow Jozeff , an' give him a chance tu git hum ahead on 

 us, an' don't make no nise." 



To drive slower was almost to stop, but Joseph accom- 

 plished the feat and still made some progress. They were 

 nearing the Lovel homestead and could see the lights of 

 the kitchen windows shining across the dooryard and 

 fading out at the roadside, in shadows of the naked 

 lilacs. Then -they heard the scraping of feet on the door- 

 step, the door opened and a brighter bar of light gleamed 

 forth streaked with the longer shadows of two long legs, 

 as Sam's tall form was biiefly shown in silhouette against 

 the bright interior, then disappear, with the old hormd 

 pushing in past him. When the wagon stopped in front 

 of the house, unheard by the inmates in the upx-oar of the 

 wind, the ti-avelers saw a woman's shadow passing to and 

 fro across the half-curtain ,of the window and knew it 

 was Htildah's, and by the clatter of the dishes that she 

 was laying the husband's supper. 



"Good mineter holler tu her tu set tew more jjlates," 

 Uncle Lisha whispered, smotheiung a chuckle in an asth- 

 matic wheeze. "Come, Jerashy, pile aout as spry's ye 

 can," he continued, getting to the ground, and reaching 

 up his hands to help whUe he braced himself to aid her 

 descent. "Bear yer hull heft on me. Why, ye don't 

 weigh no more'n a straw hat. There, yer bosses '11 stan', 

 Jozeff, an' naow you go ahead an' ask them 'f they c'n 

 keep a couple o' poor, leetle young uns 't you picked up 

 on the rhud, over night." 



"Tew young uns? Oh, Sam Hill!" Joseph ejaculated, 

 and they could hear the loose-bladed jack-knife and 

 wooden pocket combs rattling in his pocket with the sup- 

 pressed laughter that shook him. 



"Yis, young uns," Uncle Lisha repeated, "an' tell 'em 

 they haint no parents an' haint hed no supper, an' don't 

 ye laugh. An' be quick, fer I can't wait," giving the last 

 injimction as Joseph reached the door, and thej^ halted 

 close behind. 



Joseph entered without knocking, after the neighborly 

 fashion of Danvis, and the door closed behind him as he 

 uttered the sahitation, "Evenin'." 



"Evenin'," came Sam's hearty answer from where he 

 was stooping over the cradle of his sleeyjing baby, and 

 they heard Huldah's cheery welcome and Timothy Lovel's 

 voice as he came in his stockings from his place behind 

 the stove to set a chair for the guest. 



"Consarn him," Uncle Lisha whispered whejv he heard 

 the loud sigh of satisfaction which announced that Joseph 

 had seated himself. "ISTaow he'll set an' set tu all etarnity 

 'fore he gits tu what he's arter." 



"Wall, ben huntin', hey?" Joseph drawled. "Git one, 

 did ye?" 



"Yes, got one," was the answer. 



"Not when I heerd ye shoot, sence dark?" 



"No, caUin' Drive off then. Shot one fox 'fore noon 

 an' started another, but he run the huU len'th o' Hawg's 

 Back an' never come back till dark." 



["Consarn the dumb fox, he'll be a himtin' on him half 

 the night," Uncle Lisha growled xonder his breath, half 

 angry that Sam should be talking of such trivial matters 

 with his old friends so near.] 



"I heerd the dawg an' I heerd ye shoot," Joseph put in 

 at the first break in the story of the day's hunt, "'si was 

 comin' 'long, jest gittin' back f'm V'gennes, went daown 

 wi' a Ihud o' shingles for Morrison, yist'd'y." 



"Did ye stop t' the office?" Sam asked with sudden 

 intea-est. "No? Wal, I must go over arter I git suthin' t' 

 eat an' see 'f the' haint a letter f'm Uncle Lisher. [The 

 old people silently exchanged punches of each other's 

 ribs.] It's cur'us he haint writ. I hope the' haint 

 nothin' happened." 



["The' wiU suthin'," Uncle Lisha wliispered, hoarsely, 

 "I'll go in an' shake the pegs aouten Joe Hill's boots, 'f he 

 don't up an' tell his leetle lie pooty quick."] 



' 'I was comin' 'long kinder mawdrit for me, over be- 

 yend the Johns place I b'heve it was. I do' knoAv but 't 

 was this side o' Perkinses, I ruther guess it was. Any- 

 ways, the 's a but'nut tree, an' onderneath that but'nut 

 tree the' was tew leetle young uns," Joseph raised his 

 voice, "yis, sir, tew as pooty little young uns as ever you 

 see. ["Dimib yom- picter, Joe Hill," whispered Uncle 

 Lisha, shaking his list at the door], he a-crackin' but'huts 

 wi' a stun' an' a-f eedin' on 'em tu her, and there they sot, 

 she a-cryin' an' him a-crackin'. An' they tol' me, I don't 

 know but what they lied, but they tol' me they hadn't got 

 nothin' t' eat an' hen't hed no father an' mother, all day. 

 ["Joe Hill, I never tol' you to tell no sech a lie," the old 

 man said in a smothered growl.] They'd come f'm 'way 

 off" somewheres, an' they're goin' 'way back here some- 

 wheres to some o' their folks er suthin', an' I jest fetched 

 'em along. An' I come in tu see 'f you couldn't kinder 

 keep 'm over night, 'cause ye see we're kinder full t' aour 

 hause, an' M'ri', she haint got what ye might call ri' 

 daown tough yit, an' think, says I as I come along, I'LL ask 

 Samwel an' Huldy tu take 'm in." 



"Be they a-settin' aout in your wagin all this time?" 

 Sam asked, sharply. "Why on airth don't ye fetch 'em 

 right in? Poor leetle cubs, a-shiverin' aoutdoor whilst 

 we're a gabbin' in here, comf'table! Fetch 'em right in," 

 and he made a quick movement toward the door. 



Huldah stayed him with a hand upon his "arm, and with 

 an anxious glance toward the cradle, asked, hurriedly: 

 "They haint got whoopin' cough ner nothin', hev they, 

 Mr. Hill? The's whoopin' cough an' measles raound." 



"Wal, no, Hiildy," Joseph drawled. "They're healthy 

 as boneset, an' come tu think on't, they haint so turrible 

 leetle. I do' know but what they're pooty nigh growed 



"Joe HiU, what on this livin' airth be you talkin' 

 abaout? Be you crsizy or hev you ben a-drinkin'?" Hul- 

 dah asked in a sharp tone of mingled vexation and aston- 

 ishment, while Sam fixed a bewildered stare upon their 

 visitor. 



"Good land o' Goshen," cried Aunt Jerushy, "I can't 

 stan' sech fooHn' no longer," and with trembling, impa- 

 tient hands fumbling at the looped iron door handle, she 



raised the latch and entered. With a yearning for 

 womanly tolich and sympathy that could find no expres- 

 sion in words, brushing past Sam, she went with the 

 quick, jerky step of an agile old woman and arms out- 

 stretched, straight to Huldah, and the fresh young" face 

 and the other, wrinkled with age, were hidden together 

 beneath the melon hood. 



"An' naow," quavered Aunt Jerusha, withdrawing her 

 face a little from Huldah's, and eagerly, though with tear- 

 ful eyes, searching the room, "where's thet baby?" 



Uncle Lisha had entered close behind her and roaring 

 his accustomed exijletive, which it was good to hear 

 again, was now shaking hands with every one, at last 

 even -with Joseph and Armt Jerusha, never letting go a 

 hand till the possessor of that member was dragged where 

 the next was awaiting his grasp. The old hoimd, 

 awakened by the unusual commotion, scrambled out 

 backward from his place beneath the stove, with a pro- 

 digious clatter of his stiff toes, and after sniffing at Uncle 

 Lisha's knee, set up a bellow of welcome and belabored 

 every one's legs with sounding blows of his tail. The 

 baby, aroused by the noise, swelled it with his own lusty 

 outcry, while Aunt Jerusha fluttered back and forth, hov- 

 ering now over the child, now OA^er the stove, and lament- 

 ing her hands were too cold to take him. At last, by lull- 

 abyes and commands, quiet was partially restored. Aunt 

 Jerusha was divested of her cloak and hood by Huldah's 

 ready hands. Uncle Lisha was laboriously imsheathed 

 from his tight-sleeved surtout by the united exertions of 

 Sam and Joseph, and Timothy Level stood aloof, an inter- 

 ested spectator, helpful in holding the beU-crowned beaver. 



When the travelers' chest, bandbox and blue cotton um- 

 brella were brought in, the men drew their chairs to the 

 stove and set themselves to the business of visiting, and 

 the two women exchanged whispered confidences whUe 

 the elder made excursive advances toward the baby's ac- 

 quaintance and the yotmger busied herself with prepara- 

 tion of an ampler supper. Joseph Hill Avould not stay to 

 sup with them; he' told M'ri' he said 'at he'd be hum tu 

 supper an' she'd be a keepin' on't for him, 'so promising to 

 bring his father and wife over soon to see their old friends, 

 after his Hngering fashion, he took himself away. 



The tall clock that in former years had placidly ticked 

 away innimierable sad and happy moments of these old 

 people's lives, had escaped fclieir notice till, with a wheezy 

 purr it began deliberately to strike the hour. Uncle Lisha 

 checked a |half -spoken word to listen. ' '.Jerushy, du you 

 hear the ol' clock? " he cried, and the two went over to it, 

 fondly examining its dull, brazen face, and opening the 

 narrow door, displaying the ponderous weights so often 

 coveted by Sam in his iDoyhood for the treasure of shot 

 which they were said to hold. 



"An' here's suthin' else I wanter hev ye look at," said 

 their host, and taking a candle he led them into the after- 

 thought of builders known as a lean-to, whither Huldah 

 followed and Timothy Lovel came to stand in the door- 

 way with an amused smile ready to flicker upon his quiet 

 countenance. 



There was revealed the old shoemaker's bench at a 

 long, low window, beneath which was fastened a folding 

 wooden sconce with a candle in it, some familiar chairs, 

 veterans with disabled legs, and the old shop's cracked 

 stove. This f amUiar furniture, with some rolls of leather 

 and a few blocks of unsplit pegs, gave the room, but for 

 its unuse and cleanliness, much the appearance of the 

 old shop. To comj)lete the likeness there was only lack- 

 ing a clutter of lasts and tools, an accumulation of rub- 

 bish and an odor of tobacco, mingled with the smeU of 

 leather that already pervaded it. 



Even as it was, it gave the old man a tlu-ill of delight 

 that nearly took his brea th away. He could only gasp, 

 "Good airth an' seas," and plumped himself into the 

 leathern seat as if he had again foimd rest and peace. 

 Instinctively he stretched forth his hand to the place 

 where his tools should be. Looking up at Sam and Hul- 

 dah with a smile more expressive of thanks than any words 

 could be, he said: 



"Or times can't never come back agin, but it seems as 

 'ough this, wi' a leetle seasonin', woifld eenamost fetch 

 'em." Rowland E. Robinson. 



A Sand^ch Island Fish Hook. 



Last week we ilUustrated an early form of spoon-hook 

 devised by civilized man; to-day is shoA\Ti a much earlier 

 specimen of pear] shell fish hook, the handiwork of sav- 

 a,ge art. It was brought from the Sandwich Islands many 

 years ago, and to-day among the most treasured angling 

 possessions of Forest and Stream is this liook of lustrous 

 pearl from the coral reefs of the Pacific. The illustration 

 is exact size of the original. 



Curious CuUings. 



A whale's throat is so small you could choke him with 

 your fist, and he feeds on the smallest things in the sea, 

 obtained by sucking the water in and stTaiuing itthrougli 

 whalebone, which hangs in thick clusters from the roof 

 of his mouth like festoons of moss in a cypress swamp. 

 The rinsed water is gotten rid of by what is called "blow- 

 ing" or "spouting." 



Lobsters are green until cooked, when they turn red. 

 Ditto little crabs in oysters, which axe seldom seen nntil 

 after the stew. 



Every oyster has a mouth, a heart, a Uver, a stomach, 

 besides many curiously devised intestines and other organs 

 such as would be handy to a living, moving, intelligent 

 creature. The mouth is at the end of the shell nearest the 

 hinge. 



Dolphins are reported as fond of playing about ships. 

 The true dolphin is a fish about oft. long, and is cele- 

 brated for his surprising changes in color when dying. 



The steamer Albatross obtained many specimens of deep 

 sea fish off the coast of California. They were soft of body 

 and covered with phosphorescent spots to enable them to 

 see in the dark. 



The pilot-fish is a common fish for ocean travelei-s to 

 see, at it often accompanies ships, and as sharks also do 

 this, it is said to be a pilot for them.' 



The drum-fish is so called from its power to make a pe- 

 culiar drumming or grunting sound under water. 



The flying gurnard obtains in the Indian seas. Itspec* 

 toral fins are so large that m springing out of the water to 

 escape an enemy the wide, quivering fins are able to sus- 

 tain it in the air for a limited period. Fishy. 



THE MOUNTING OF HEADS. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



From present indications the collection of mounted 

 heads and animals at the coming World's Fair will be the 

 largest ever shown at such an exhibition. That it will 

 prove one of the best depends to some extent on the com- 

 mittee in charge. To an ordinary individual, perhaps, a 

 stuffed head is simply a stuffed head. A Maine deer 

 rammed full of rags and marked a barren ground caribou 

 would be accepted as such. 



At the exMbition in New Orleans during the winter of 

 '84 and '85 I saw a collection of moimted heads exhibited 

 by a Montana taxidermist. As I remember, every part of 

 the work on these heads showed the most scrupulous care. 

 In fact, if any fault was to be found it was on account of 

 too fine a finish. They were so glossy and smooth that it 

 would suggest they had been blanketed and groomed like 

 a thoroughbred horse. 



Directly opposite the booth where the heads were hung 

 was a group of deer, and such a group! They looked as 

 though they had been stuffed with brush or kindling 

 wood and then exposed for a couple of months to a West- 

 ern blizzard. They stood in aU. manner of positions. 

 Some were bow7legged, others knock-kneed, the hair 

 pointed in all directions, and everything about them was 

 about as bad as possible. I remember the remarks of a 

 well known sportsman who was present. Some of them 

 were rather forcible, and he finished by saying: "It is a 

 good advertisement for those heads putting such a lot of 

 stTiff right in front of them." 



To return to the exhibition at Chicago. Doubtless there 

 will be many fine, well-mounted specimens, and it will be 

 remarkable also if there are not some poor ones. Take 

 the average work as turned out by ordinary taxidermists. 

 It is safe to say that but a small percentage of it is done 

 in a natural and fife-like manner. On moose heads, for 

 instance, out of fifty momited heads, taken as they come, 

 how many of them will reaUy look like a moose? Few of 

 the iDrofessional taxidermists have seen the subjects they 

 work on, either in fife or when freshly killed, and in 

 mormting an animal or a head they follow ideas of their 

 own, resulting in imnatural looking specimens. 



Of late years many of the guides in Maine and else- 

 where have taken up mounting heads of animals they kill 

 or which are killed by the sportsmen they guide. Usu- 

 ally a guide who spends much of his time on the hunting 

 gTounds has pretty good ideas of how the game he Mils 

 looks when alive, and in mounting a head generally turns 

 out well-proportioned work. Nevertheless I have never 

 seen a specimen of their work which had been properly 

 prepared before mounting. 



A year ago I was shown two moose heads which ha.d 

 been mounted by a guide who is said to be a good taxider- 

 mist. They had been sent to a friend a,nd had not been 

 long mounted and were not dry. There was such an odor 

 from them that you could not stay in the room where 

 they were hanging, and the hair could be easily pulled 

 out in handf uls. In time the odor would disappear and 

 the hair set, and they might last a long time, but I should 

 not care to warrant them. I know a guide who has 

 mounted a number of heads. He set up a couple of buck 

 heads one day while I was at the cainp. There was one 

 thing about his work, he did not waste any time over it. 

 The deer had been killed vidthin a few days' and the heads, 

 skinned, and he went to work, sevved up the mouth, 

 rubbed some dry arsenic on the inside, filled out the skull 

 with plaster of Pai'is, puUed on the skin, stuffed the neck 

 with anything handy, put in the eyes, brushed it over, 

 and it was done. I asked if he did not flesh the skin over 

 or pickle it. B[e said no, the arsenic will fix that all right. 

 Certainly they did look pretty weU at that time. I think 

 there would be a decided change in a month or so when 

 the ears cmied up and the skin had shrunk. 



When you kiU a fine specimen which you wish to save, 

 perhaps it is the big bull moose you have been long look- 

 ing for, no doubt he has cost jou many a hard tramp, 

 much exposm-e and a good many doUars. Take my advice 

 and have the head mormted by a thorough workman, and 

 you will have a trophy you wfll be proi^d to show and 

 which will last and bear close and critical examination. 

 It is poor economy to send it to some one who will mount 

 it at a low price, with tlie chance of its becoming wormy 

 or moth-eaten in a few yeara. 



My own work as an amateur in mounting heads has 

 been confined almost entirely to heads of my own killing 

 such as moose, caribou, deer, bears and smaller animals. 

 Some of my friends who have seen my specimens have 

 been kind enough to caU them veiy good; to me they are 

 fairly satisfactory; I can see room for considerable im- 

 provement. I have spent a week working on a large head 

 after others have called it .well done. Again I have 

 moimted a head and let it get thoroughly dry, and not be- 

 ing entirely satisfied have taken it apart, soaJked out the 

 skin and remounted it. I have had some opportunities of 

 looking over big game when ahve and immediately after 

 it was killed. A buU moose trotted out on an oi^en bog 

 within 40yds. of where I was sitting, and stood for some 

 time. Not having my rifle I could only look at him. I 

 can see hun now as he then stood sligVitly quartering with 

 his head well up. I have no recollection of how liis body 

 looked as I put in all the time studying his head and 

 antlers. 



When himting any large game, I carry some large 

 sheets of paper and carefuUy trace the outlines of any 

 hea;d8 I get, also taking measurements with a tape. In 

 tracing the head of a moose in this way, 1 think it should 

 be done as quickly after killing as possible, as I think the 

 shape changes in a few houi's on account of the muscles of 

 the mouffle, nostrils and lips relaxing. A bull I killed a 

 year ago last fall, whose head I laid on jiaper and traced 

 a few moments after he was dead, I fotmd had changed 

 quite a good deal after getting it to cam^j late in the day. 

 Also carefully examined three heads several days after 

 they were kiUed, and which had been brought out of the 

 woods unskinned, and noticed the mouffle, hps and nos- 

 trfls had fallen considerably, giving a flat and flabby look 

 to the nose. 



No doubt some fijie heads are lost through lack of know- 

 ing ho-w to take care of thera when first kUled. When I 

 first went to Nova Scotia I found the custom was to send 

 out a guide with a head as soon as one was obtained. A 

 friend who has kUled several moose lost his finest speci- 



