142 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



LAUG. 19, 1898. 



mtfe md ^nri. 



A PAGE FROM OTHER DAYS. 



DIAMOND VALLEY. 



Often have I been requested, and as often have I tried 

 to make up my mind, to furnish for the benefit of brain 

 workers my experience in outdoor sports in tlie pursuit of 

 fish, game and healthful exercise. Several factors have 

 thus fax- stood gua-rd and succeeded .n holding my pur- 

 pose at bay. The first and must imi^ortant obstacle vras 

 want of time. While I always managed to find time to 

 get away to the mountains and plains for six weeks in 

 every year, and during that time to keep my diary up to 

 date, and the loved ones at home informed of my where- 

 abouts, I never felt that I could spare the time to tell my 

 fellow workers what pleasure I have enjoyed, what satis- 

 faction I have had and what a vast amount of good I de- 

 rived from my rod, gun and camera. 



Now that I have begun, here goes: I know you will 

 follow me, and if all who can wiflf take my advice, many 

 lives might be lengihened and premature old age averted. 

 The principal excuse I have to offer for now taking the 

 time to write up my journals, while engaged in a busy 

 professional life, is the fact that I was bom fifty-four 

 years ago in the mountains of central Pennsylvania, 

 where game of all kinds was then plenty, and where on 

 this very day my father is celebrating his seventy-eighth 

 birthday, and he is still an ardent hunter and fisherman. 

 He taught me to handle a gun when I was scarcely able 

 to carry the weapon. 



Some of my first recollections come vividly, how I used 

 to toddle off to the neighboring woods at the heels of my 

 father in quest of the nimble gray squirrel. I yet hear 

 him say: " Now Sammy, do you see that fine fellow up 

 there sitting on that limb with his tail over his back ? 

 No, the other side of the tree — here, look over the gun 

 barrel," as he would level it in the direction of the game: 

 "Now, I will just snuff the end of his nose off; watch him 

 drop." With his trusty, long muzzle-loading rifle, 120 

 bullets to the pound, he would deliberately take aim, and 

 I can yet feel and hear the throbbing of my heart as I 

 held my breath and awaited the report. He seldom 

 missed doing just what he said, "Snuff the nose." When 

 Clip, the old half-hound and half -cur, would tackle the 

 squirrel, I would run to join the melee, claim the prize, 

 string him up, and by this time my father would have 

 another charge safely rammed homo in the old rifle, 

 when father. Clip and I would further investigate the 

 neighboring hickory trees for the nut-gatherers. Usually 

 it required but half or three-quarters of an hour to shoot 

 a "mess" of squirrels, and it mattered not whether we 

 got one or a dozen, their skins were whole, except what 

 covered the head. All this happened long ago, and just 

 up in the bottom not five hundred yards from the old log 

 house, close by the bank of the creek, where over fifty 

 years ago I first saw light. Yes, the same bottom where 

 in the fall we hunted squirrels, coon, possum, butternuts 

 and shellbarks, and in the spring time, when the sap 

 rose, we held high carnival making maple sugar. 



In the happy days of my boyhood shotguns were almost 

 an unknown quantity in our neck of woods— Shaver's 

 Creek Valley, Huntingdon county, Pa. Men and boys 

 used either the rifle, straight-cut or smooth-bore gun. 

 Tlie two last named were of larger caliber than the rifles, 

 and were used for either shot or ball. I can well remem- 

 ber how important I felt when but a small boy I was 

 allowed to take one of the inferior guns from the corner 

 in the kitchen, where always stood half a dozen or more, 

 and practice on the red squirrels along the creek. I also 

 well remember one of my most important exploits as a 

 hunter. It all happened in the clump of trees just above 

 old Dan Stevens's house, against the side of the hill, where 

 more than once I lay for hours watching for a ground hog 

 to stick his snout and fat cheeks up out of his hole. One 

 day the old gentleman put in an appearance; I plugged 

 him square under the chin with a BOO-grain round ball 

 from the old smooth-bore. That old fellow I had watched 

 for often, and as often been disappointed; but this time I 

 caught him square. He was as much as I could lug, and 

 I could hardly wait until I got home to exhibit ray game. 

 I think now that a few such exjjeriences during my boy- 

 hood made impressions upon me which in after years 

 stimulated me to fuller enjoyment and appreciation of the 

 benefits of the pursuit of fish and game in search of the 

 recreation so imi)ortant for brain workers. 



It was not long after the above event until all the boys 

 in the neighborhood knew that I had killed a hog, and a 

 ground hog at that; and I soon began to think I was a 

 veiitable hunter, and most of my time was sj)ent lugging 

 the old gun around, shooting at eveiy thing animate, and 

 soon my hunting proclivities had to be curbed. I was 

 always on hand \\ hen a coon hunt -was on the tapis, and 

 one, if not the first, to notify Dan Stover, the Lightner. 

 Y^okum and Longeuecker boys; when, together with 

 Ilncle Sam, father and the dogs, we scoured the neighbor- 

 ing country and always succeeded in gathering in one, or 

 sometimes three in one night. When the coons were 

 hibernating, or out of the usual season, we always had 

 something on hand— gigging, setting outhnes or dipping 

 for suckers when the water was right during the freshets. 



When I was fourteen I had an idea that I was old 

 enough to kUl a deer. Squirrels, robins, sapsuckers. and 

 even groundhogs failed to be sport enough for m&. In 

 those days father and my old bachelor uncle could go up 

 over the hill and on the leading ridge, not over three miles 

 from home, and kill a deer in the winter season, when 

 there was a good tracking snow, just about whenever they 

 wanted fresh venison. The deer hunting fever had been 

 troubling my dreams for some time, and soon an oppor- 

 timity offered. A deer hunt composed of several of the 

 neighbors was on hand, information of Avhich I got by 

 standing around the blacksmith shop, both hands in my 

 pockets and both eai-s open. As 1 considered myself a 

 hunter, I insisted upon being one of the party. I well 

 remember I slept but httle the pre^dous night and was up 

 long before daylight, scouring out the old smooth-bore, 

 which no one else would take to hunt deer. We were all 

 to assemble at break of day at a certain point on the lead- 

 ing ridge, which forms the southern boundary of Diamond 

 Valley, and there on time we joined Sam Striker. Adan 

 Lightner, Harry Lightner, Hen Longenecker, ' John 



Decker and Dan Stover. The hunt was planned from that 

 point. It was to be a breast hunt on the south side of 

 Tussey Mountain, which formed the northern boundary 

 of Diamond Valley, The valley being but about one and 

 a half miles wide, it was not long until we were strung 

 about lOOyds. apart, ready to hunt against the wind. 



As this was my first deer hunt it may be imagined how 

 I looked, and peeped, and stepped on tiptoe, ostensibly for 

 deer, but most likely as often trying to discern the where- 

 abouts of the hunters above and below me, for I have got 

 a faint recollection that I was afraid of being lost. We 

 had not gone over half or three-quartei-s of a mfle, when 

 hearing a rustle to my right I caught sight of a fine deer 

 coming loping toward me and not more than 40yds. be- 

 low. I stopped stone still, cocked the old gun, brought it 

 to my face, and by this time the deer was immediately 

 below me. I bleated; the deer stopped; I aimed and fired 

 and the buck dropped in his tracks. Of course I yelled 

 like a Comanche for Stryker, who, I knew, was below 

 me, and who soon appeared on the scene. I had shot the 

 deer too high and too far back, and the consequence was 

 that by the time Stryker came the deer was making down 

 the mountain, dragging his hind parts. I had forgotten 

 to reload, and when Stryker came he shot at the buck's 

 head, the ball passing through his snout, which only ac- 

 celerated his passage down the mountain. While he Avas 

 reloading I did the same, and as there was no snow on the 

 gi'ound the deer got away, and although the whole party 

 hunted for him a long while we were unable to find him, 

 until some time afterward the carcass was found in the 

 thickets several hundred yards below where I had shot 

 him. The pain I experienced in not getting possession of 

 the first noble game I had the satisfaction of bringing 

 down, was the first great disappointment of my life, anc. 

 the one which, as years roll by, still clings to memory; 

 and I never yet hunt deer but the first hunt comes up; 

 and ever after that, when the deer stands broadside to me, 

 the bullet hole is sure to be through the shoulder blades. 



The recollection of those boyhood days are the most 

 fascinating I could dwell upon, and might be indefinitely 

 extended, hnt space forbids; though I was very forcibly 

 reminded of them but a half dozen years ago, when, 

 jjublic duties preventing me from taking my usual six 

 weeks' vacation, I spent a week at the old homestead. 

 Father, mother and uncle were still there; the two old 

 shot-pouches covered Avith spotted fawn skin, and several 

 old powder horns, were in the same drawer in the same 

 old .side-board, which stood in what was then used as 

 kitchen and dining room. In the same corner stood the 

 guns, but tliey were of a different style Jrom those of 

 forty years ago. Many changes had taken place since I 

 was a bag-hunter and fisher. The old log house wherein 

 I was born over fifty years ago, still stood across the 

 creek. The site of the old school-house was a pile of 

 rubbish, and the new one occupied a more eligible place. 

 The old grandfather had fallen dead with a trap in his 

 hand in 1863, but his gun still stood in the corner. Where 

 hickory and maple trees had covered the creek bottom in 

 sight of the house, and furnished good shooting in season, 

 scarcely a stump was left to mark the spot or tell where 

 I had spent many happy hours hunting squii-rels, gather- 

 ing nuts, angling for the gamy fall fish, or gathering the 

 sweet sap for the sugar camp, which was always a gala 

 time in season. The two-barreled revolving' muzzle- 

 loading Schuler guns had given \\'ay to repeaters. One a 

 Spencer carbine, used during tlie war by one of my 

 brothers, had been loaded up, with an additional supply of 

 iron attached to the under surface of the barrel to balance 

 her up, and was used by the eighty year old uncle for 

 hunting deer. He had removed the original trigger- 

 plate, and instead the part was supplied with the good 

 old-fashioned double on-sett ti'igger. 



Again I find I have wandered from noting the events 

 of my week's outing in the same locality where I had 

 killed the big buck and didn't get him after all. 



All being in readiness, father took me out to Diamond 

 Valley, to the cabin which was occupied by a party of 

 old hunters who were boy hunters when I was — Tommy 

 Montgomery, Bill Conrad, John Eberle, Mead Barst, Sara 

 Steele and Joe Carman— and Uncle Sam, with his 

 Spencer carbine .50-caliber, was to join us on the foUoAv- 

 ing day, preferring to hunt from home to the cabin. On 

 the second day in camp we had a good tracking snoAv, 

 and the following morning Ave Avr re all up early and had 

 the old cook stove piping hot, and breakfast over before 

 a glimmer of daylight Ut up the eastern horizon. The 

 farmers in the adjoining Shaver's Creek Valley used Dia- 

 mond Valley (wliich is about fifteen miles long and an 

 average of one and a half miles M'ide, weU wooded and 

 watered) as a cattle range during the summer, and each 

 herd had one of its number adorned with a bell. Once or 

 twice a month the farmers Avould go out to salt and look 

 after their herds. The deer became accustomed to the 

 tingling of the cow bells, and so the practice has been 

 for one of a party of hunters to take a bell and follow the 

 track, AA'hile the others were all posted at the Avell knowji 

 runways or crossings Avhere the game crossed from the 

 mountain to the ridge, or vica versa. The sound of the 

 bell aided the Avatchers in determining the direction 

 taken by the deer, and ofttimes enabled them to obtain 

 advantage by changing their location Adhere there were 

 not hunters enough to cover all the ground. 



On this occasion, Sam Steele, a royal good fellow and a 

 quick, sure shot, acted as the bell Avether. I was assigned 

 a place at the edge of a small open space near Avhere 

 there had been an old saAv-mill. I sat in the edge of the 

 scrub oak thicket, with my back against an old stump 

 and my W^inchester lying across my left knee. From 

 where I sat I had a good view of the smalt open space to 

 my right. Directly in front of me, and just 21ft., stood 

 a small bunch of scrub oak not more than 6ft. high and 

 about 6 or 8ft. in diameter. I took in the situation, and 

 had not long to Avait, for in a few minutes I saw a fine 

 large buck and fawn jump out of the timber into the 

 open space to my right. In less time than I can write it 

 he landed about four feet in front of the scrub oak clump. 

 I bleated just as he lit, and stone still he stopped, at the 

 same time throwing his head to his right in the direction 

 of Steele and his bell. He fell pierced through both 

 shoulders, and I had killed a specimen of the noble game 

 of the AUeghenies Avithin 31 miles from where I Avas 

 born half a century before. Before the week was up we 

 had three hanging against a gum tree which stood just 

 north of the cabin. 



Since that little hunt time has brought some changes. 

 Uncle Sam passed peacefully away at a ripe old age, and 

 we laid him in the little churchyard, leaving behind him 



a host of sorrowing friends and acquaintances. The 

 autumn leaves had yellowed and fallen; his fox beds were 

 located and baited for the AAunter's sport; but the traps 

 were never set, and sly reynard held high carnival over 

 what Avould have been dangerous ground had he not been 

 called away. Conrad has also passed to the great beyond. 

 The rest of the party are all living and hunted over the 

 same ground last fall, but with poor success. Since 1885 

 a railroad has been built through the hunting ground, the 

 timber cut out and the game driven oft'; and another of 

 my old stamj)ing grounds has given way to civilization, 

 The inevitable must come — so be it. SnoNao. 

 Lancaster, Pa, 



AN ILL'FATED SHOT. 



It was in the month of October, 1856, when N. L. Han- 

 scom arrived in the town of Or land, Hancock county, 

 Maine, for a hunt. Having somewhat of a reputation as 

 a hunter among the boys of that town, I was selected to 

 go with him and lead the Avay to the best himting ground. 

 It was a beautiful October day and the leaves of the 

 Maine forest liad just commenced to put on then- golden 

 hue, and the lofty hills all aroimd presented a grand 

 scene. One of these hills AA^as known as Mason's Moun- 

 tains, at East Orland, Avhich we selected as our hunting 

 ground. This moimtain is north of Mason's Mills, be- 

 tween Toddy Pond and Craigg's and Hart ponds, and 

 Avas noted in those days as a liiding place for bears, deer, 

 foxes, rabbits and pai-tridges on account of it being 

 covefed Avith a thick young growth of white birch and 

 pine trees. 



After getting an early breakfast Capt. Hanscom, my- 

 self and brother started for the top of this mountain with 

 great expectations, thinking we would get a deer or two, 

 and perhaps a bear. W e gradually worked our way up 

 this steep mountain throhgh the undefbrush, and some^ 

 times we had to take hold of the limbs of the tfeed and 

 pifll ourselves up, and at last we reached the summit. The 

 sun was .shining very bright and there was not a cloud to 

 be seen in the sky, and the scenery around us Avas grand 

 beyond description. Looking in a northwest direction 

 we could see a chain of tall mountains as far as the eye 

 could extend, and in an easterly dil-ectioh we coifld see 

 the Mt. Desert hills, the tops of them looked as -white aa 

 if they Avere capped Avith snoAv. Tiu-ning our faces to the 

 soiith A\ e could see the broad ocean, dotted with vessels, 

 Avith their white sails passing and i-epassing. After rest- 

 ing ourseh-es for a Avhile we concluded we would pass 

 doAvn the rjTountain in the direction of Craigg's I'ond 

 Brook. 1 told Capt. Ilanscotti I would take the outside 

 course to the right, while he shotild take the left side and 

 my brother the center; and Ave would walk alonjj care- 

 fully and keep sight of each other so as to avoid any acci? 

 dent in shooting. The young white birch and the small 

 pine growth Avas very thick, and we had gone but a short 

 distance when 1 saw a rabbit, Avhich I shot; and in a 

 moment 1 heard a faint voice ahead of me "I am shot." 



I ran in the direction of the voire, and saw Cai)t. Hans- 

 com lianging on to a hmb Avith one hand, but before I 

 could reach him he fell to the ground prostrated, and it 

 looked for a, few minutes as if he were dead. The shock 

 was so gi eat that he fainted, but in a short time he re- 

 vived so as to speak and requested me to take a flask of 

 brandy out of his pocket and give him some. This I did, 

 and it seemed to restore him quite rapidly; and as soon as 

 he could talk I asked him AVhere he Avas shot. He said he 

 did not knoAv, but his right leg was very painful. On 

 examination I found that the ball had passed into the leg 

 just aboA'c tlie knee, In a nliort time he Avas suffering 

 most excruciating pain and coUld not stand a moment. 

 After looking the situation over we came to the conclu- 

 sion there Avas no other thing to do but to carry him 

 down that steep mountain into the valley below where 

 we could reach him with a conveyance; so we put owt 

 shoulders under his arms and walked along a piece with 

 him, and all at once he asked me if I had killed the rabbit. 

 I assured him 1 did; he then said, "Lay me down and go 

 back and get it, for I want to take it' home with me to 

 shoAv that you are a good shot." 



So I went back and got the rabbit, and we continued 

 our journey down, over the roughest place I ever saw, 

 until Ave reached the low land below. Here we laid him 

 down oji the grass and placed my coat under his head, 

 while my brother went l or a horse and buggy to take him 

 to his old friend, S. P. BroAvn, at Orland Vdlage, After 

 arriving there several physicians were called and eA'ery 

 means known to the profession was used to extract the 

 ball, but all pro\'ed a failure. 



He knew I felt very badly over the accldentf and he 

 told his friends that 1 Avas not to blame; but that had 

 he obeyed my request and kept his place on the left and 

 not got in ahead of ine on the right he never would have 

 been shot. 



The next day he Avas taken to Bucksport and put on the 

 boat and taken to Boston to the best surgeon there, who 

 found the ball had struck the bone and glanced up the leg 

 and lodged near the groin. The ball was never taken out, 

 but after several months of confinement to his house the 

 Captain recovered. 



Soon after this I moved to the Far West and heard 

 nothing of Capt. Hanscom till 1873, when I saw he had 

 been stationed at the Navy Yard in New York. I saw a 

 very fine wild turkey in our market. I bought it and 

 sent it to him, and wrote him a letter and asked him if 

 h.e remembered the boy who had shot him in Maine. 

 The folloA\'iug letter was the reply from him: 



Naval Constructok's Okfice, Navy Yard, New York, Dec. 2, 1873. 

 —Dr. AV. O. Blaisdell, Macomb, 111.: My Dear Sir-I have often won- 

 dered Avliat had become of you, and until thf- ■ n of your kind 

 note of the 26th ult. thought you might be il l > h the dead. I 

 am very glad, however, to know that yoii aiv . <: v • lud I hope en- 

 joying iife. The ball in my knee troubles rue but lir i li-— only when I 

 take a A'lolent cold, which happened for the first time in tlu-ei- or four 

 years about three weeks ago; and now I am sound. t'utlha"se tO' 

 thank you a thousand tijnes, for the sjulendid wild turkey just arrived! 

 in excellent coudidon. It is a noble one and I wis-b you could be here: 

 to attend the post-mortem soon to be held on the bocLv. 1 am tQ of- 

 ficiate as surgeon, my wife being coroner, hence you .see, a.s the weight 

 of either of us being over 3001b,s., the examination bids fair to be a 

 thorough one. You will have our olessing at the most critical lime — 

 the commencement of the dissection. If you should come this way I 

 hope you will come and see us. You will liiid the latch string out. 

 Come and see. Thanking you again for your kindness, I rpmain truly 

 yours, W. S. HaJi-scom. 



Capt. Hanscom was placed on the retired list in 1876. 

 He was a brave oflicer and a genuine companion. He died- 

 at Maiden, Mass., about 1878, May peace rest over his 

 ashes. W. O. Blaisdell. 



Macomb, 11^ _ 



