Feb. 24, 1894.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



187 



dwellings and the third a council house. These struc- 

 tures were built of drift wood and timbers of wrecked 

 ships, collected on the shores of their far-away island, 

 and were supported by rudely carved posts. In front of 

 these were reared the totem poles, grotesquely carved 

 with ferocious looking heads of birds and beasts, reptiles 

 and men crudely painted with black, red and yellow, 

 which only served to emphasize the ugliness of the carv- 

 ing. There were, too, several huge statues of hideous 

 monsters, also carved from great solid logs. These gigan- 

 tic caricatures were enough to make a teetotaller think 

 he had the delirium tremens, but represented the highest 

 of high art to the Quackahls! Bears, frogs and ravens 

 seemed to be the models most often used, though it re- 

 quired a very elastic imagination to liken the horrid 

 shapes to anything ever seen on the face of the earth. 

 The distorted images on the totem poles chronicle the 

 history and important events of the tribe, as do the wam- 

 pum belts of the eastern nations. 



There were several big Ganoes, capable of holding a 

 score of men each, on the shore; they were hollowed from 

 huge logs, and on each side of the bows were painted 

 great glaring eyes. "Are your people going to dance to- 

 night?" I asked of the interpreter. 



"Yes, they gettin' ready now," he replied, and I noticed 

 that all those who had been outside had gone into the 

 houses, where he soon followed. At that time the vil- 

 lage had not been opened to the public, but a curious crowd 

 of people loitered about, attracted by the sounds that 

 came from behind the closed doors. 



Soon a terrific pounding was heard, accompanied by a 

 choice assortment of yells and whoops, apprising us that 

 the ceremony had begun. We went inside, the door being 

 opened just wide enough to admit us, by George Hunt. 

 It was a strange spectacle which we looked upon, and we 

 had taken another of those wonderful steps which trans- 

 ported us in an instant two thousand miles away. The 

 huge, barnlike shanty contained but one room; there were 

 no windows to break the monotony of the bare, smoke- 

 blackened walls, and there was no furniture except some 

 rude bunks at the back and a pile of wood in one corner. 

 There was no floor except the bare ground, and no chim- 

 ney; the ridge pole was one great cedar log 2-Jf t. in diame- 

 ter. A log fire blazed in the center of the hut, the smoke 

 escaping through a hole in the roof. There were no 

 other means of illumination, and the wavering flames 

 and shifting shadows, with the curling of smoke, spangled 

 with sparks which leaped upward only to vanish, inten- 

 sified the weirdness of the scene. 



Prof. Putnam and a few friends, the only white people 

 resent, were grouped in a corner by the door. Nick and 



sat on the pile of wood in another corner. At the back 

 of the room, facing the door, were four warriors squatting 

 in a row, with a long plank in front of them; each held a 

 short club in his hand, and all were enveloped in gaudy 

 blankets and had their faces hideously painted. The 

 other bucks and the squaws, even the little pappoose, 

 were similarly clad and painted. At a signal from the 

 interpreter, the quartette with the clubs broke into a wild 

 chant and began to beat violently on the plank in front of 

 th,em. It was no gentle tattoo, but each blow was given 

 With the full strength of sinewy arms, while their power- 

 ful lungs were strained to the utmost as the notes of the 

 wild cadence rose and fell on the night air. A squaw 

 pounded on a square, box-shaped drum, adding her mite 

 and m'ight to the din. 



Suddenly a warrior cast aside his blanket and sprang 

 into the open space of which the fire was the center. He 

 was scantily clad and bare-footed, as they all were. He 

 circled around the fire, taking a few steps, first to one 

 side, then to the other, constantly turning and all the 

 time waving his hands and arms gracefully in time to the 

 measure of the song. He kept this up for some time 

 when the music (if one can call it by that name) ceased 

 and he retired to a corner and his blanket. Again the 

 clubs beat upon the plank and the chant was resumed. 

 Another Indian sprang into the circle and commenced 

 the mythical cannibal dance, a sort of pantomime illus- 

 trative of a legend of the Quackahl mythology. 



In the mountains of their island home dwells an evil 

 spirit who, when he becomes hungry descends from his 

 fastnesses and seizes upon some member of the tribe, 

 whom he bears away and eats at his leisure. The Indians 

 hold him in great dread, and this dance is to appease his 

 wrath. The dancer now before us represented the terrible 

 cannibal of the mountains, but I doubt if the spirit him- 

 self is any more ferocious in appearance than was the 

 apparition which crouched and leaped around the fire in 

 the Quackahl hut. He did not stand erect, but squatted 

 like a frog, and a strange robe fell from his shoulders and 

 dragged on the ground behind him. Two other warriors 

 kept constantly by him, and as he circled around the fire 

 they placed themselves between him and the spectators, 



A wrinkled old man also promenaded solemnly around 

 shaking a rattle shaped and carved in semblance to a 

 human head. Long hair, which waved as he shook it, 

 made it in the dim light a gruesome object, and the peb- 

 bles, or whatever was in it, sounded like the rattle of dry 

 bones. 



The painted musicians howled louder and beat harder 

 and faster with their clubs, and the dancer accelerated 

 his motions to the uncanny accompaniment. He crouched 

 till he almost sat upon the ground, his arms outstretched 

 and his fingers working convulsively as if they longed to 

 strangle some victim to appease the spirit's awful appetite. 

 He was watching for his prey, and uttered hoarse, gut- 

 tural growls, while his eyes glared savagely as they 

 wandered from one to another of the onlookers. Suddenly 

 without rising from his crouching posture, he would 

 jump swiftly around the fire, covering several feet at 

 each leap; then he would stop and once more the blood- 

 shot eyes would gleam balefuliy and the twitching fingers 

 would again be stretched toward some one. Then the 

 two watchers would seize him by the waist and hold him 

 with all their strength till he was quieted, when the dance 

 was resumed. As the performance went on he frothed 

 at the mouth, and the muscular strain his legs were sub- 

 jected to was terrible. At last he became exhausted and 

 was carried away howling and moaning, and placed in a 

 bunk. 



In this cannibal dance the dancer has to be watched, 

 for he becomes so excited that he will spring at any one 

 and bite them. On several occasions he bit George Hunt's 

 bare arm so that he drew blood, and one night he sprang 

 at Nick and seized him by the ankle as he sat with his 

 legs crossed watching the ceremony. Nothing but his 

 thick shoe prevented him from being severely bitten, as 



the teeth marks showed even through the leather. "I 

 knocked him more 'n twenty foot," said Nick; "I don't 

 want to be chawed by cannibals just yet." One night he 

 sprang at me but I got out of the way in a very lively 

 manner. 



Jimmie Deans told me that a few years ago a woman 

 of the tribe died, and the dances were held to appease the 

 wrath of the spirit. The dancers became so excited and 

 uncontrollable that they seized the body and tore it to 

 pieces. 



After the cannibal dancer disappeared another leaped 

 on to the floor wearing an enormous mask, representing 

 a raven's head. The raven is supposed to be the slave of 

 the evil spirit and was represented by a. Quackahl second in 

 agility only to his predecessor. He leaped about the fire, 

 twisting the raven's head from side to side and snapping 

 the huge jaws together in a most threatening manner. 

 The pounding and the ear-splitting music were continued 

 as the musicians taunted the spirit of the mountains. 

 Then the raven's head was changed for another mask, 

 representing a duck, the sign of the great (good) spirit, 

 and the dancer indulged in more contortions. 



After this four squaws, one of them a young girl, 

 danced, and their performance was a relief after what 

 preceded them. The pounding was more subdued and 

 the bare feet made no sound on the earth floor. They 

 swayed their bodies back and forth, holding their arms 

 stiffly in front of them, the gesture seeming to be one of 

 supplication. They glided back and forth and revolved 

 as in the waltz, first m one direction, then in the reverse. 

 The queen danced by herself, the other three keeping on 

 the opposite side of the fire. The dance was rhythmical 

 and graceful, but their faces showed no expression as 

 they whirled through the measures. 



This was a dance of peace and was continued for a long 

 time, after which two warriors bared to the waist came 

 forward. Stout cords^were passed through the skin on 

 their backs in two places, and the knots securely tied. 

 Two others held the ends of the cords, driving them as if 

 they were horses, and as they danced they strove to break 

 away by tearing the knots through the skin. The cords, 

 held taut by brawny arms, stretched the skin to a tension, 

 painful to witness as the dancers pulled and struggled to 

 break away. The beating became louder, the song faster; 

 the men jumped and pulled and leaped, while their driv- 

 ers held firmly to the cords which were wound around 

 their hands. One of the dancers seemed ready to faint 

 with the pain and was supported for a moment by one of 

 his comrades. Again they sprang forward and a knot 

 pulled out; then another, and another, and another. They 

 were free, and we had seen enough, but the dance was by 

 no means over. When the Quackahls became thoroughly 

 warmed up and excited over their dancing, they never 

 ceased till one and all dropped from exhaustion. Many a 

 night they kept up their weird orgies till daybreak, and 

 neither Deans nor the interpreter could stop them. 



As we walked back to the Penobscot camp we. were fol- 

 lowed by the sound of pounding and yells and whoops. 



"They won't stop till they drop," said Nick, "they'll 

 whoop it up all night long. I never saw such dancing as 

 that before. Our dance is a gentleman compared to that 

 one," referring to a dance of the Penobscot people which 

 is done to the music of shot rattled in powder horns, and 

 is a very pretty performance. 



"Do the Quackahls make any bead work, or baskets, or 

 anything, the same as your people and the Six Nations?" I 

 asked. 



"No," replied Nick, " they don't make anything except 

 a noise. They make so much of that, they don't have 

 time to do anything else." W. A. Brooks. 



The Hummingbird. 



One beautiful day when I was hunting, I sat down to 

 rest upon the dry, brown leaves of the forest with my 

 back leaning comfortably against a log, in the enjoyment 

 of ease and reverie, when the deathlike stillness of the 

 woods was broken by the welcome buzz of the humming- 

 bird. The tiny creature catching sight of me poised him- 

 self in mid-air almost within my reach, and seemed to 

 stare with wonder as though he inquired, "Is it somebody 

 and is ite dead or alive?" In order to study the bird I 

 kept motionless; but I was not more so than it was ex- 

 cept its wings. These gave but flashes of light, so rapid 

 was their motion. The perfect and continued poise, with- 

 out the least deviation up or down, such physical com- 

 mand elicited my highest ad miration of the bird and 

 wisdom of Him who formed it. N, D. Elting. 



Appreciation and Recognition. 



Mr. J. B. Battelle has asked us to forward to Mr. Hough the follow- 

 ing note in this way, and we think it a very fitting way too: 



Toledo, O., Feb. 3.— My dear Mr. Hough: You want to stop the 

 "Singing Mouse" series in the Forest and Stream. Stop it right away, 

 and don't publish any more of them. The "Lake Belle Marie" in the 

 paper of Jan. 27 is the place to end. Do you ask why? Simply because 

 you may not do anything so good again. You may think you will, and 

 like the man who struck the bullseye, believe that it is easy to dupli- 

 cate the shot. 



' "Lake Belle Marie" is about as fine a specimen of the prose poem as 

 I have encountered for a great many moons. It has a rhythm and 

 cadence that are well-nigh perfect; and a strength and simplicity that 

 show what the English language can accomplish when it is rightly 

 handled. When a song is keyed to such a pitch, a single false note will 

 mar the harmony, and it is a great deal easier to strike it than to avoid 

 it. But this has the true ring. No man could have written it who did 

 not draw the inspiration from the camp and the waters of the lake 

 itself. 



I send you my congratulations feelingly, because having now and 

 then essayed to do this sort of thing myself, I know how very difficult 

 it is to do It well. Sincerely yours, J. B. B. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



Excuse my troubling you in this way, but I have just read the little 

 article "How the Sleepers Got Egg Nogg," on page 112, of your Feb. 

 10 issue, and I must say something. I have not enjoyed anything so 

 much for several months. It is exquisitely good; though, no doubt, 

 lots of people would pass over it in their quest for more important 

 articles. The "ole nigger" is really alive— seems to walk right out o 

 the paper at a fell ow. Claude King. 



Club Property. 



Richard V. Harnett & Co,, auctioneers, will sell at auction Feb. 38, 

 the estate of the late Captain Jacob Travis, in Princess Anne county, 

 Va. This is a good opportunity for a club to secure a valuable shoot- 

 ing property. The property consists of five islands lying about twelve 

 miles south of Virginia Beach. Particulars will he furnished by Wm. 

 H. Wjllets, 39 Wall street, New York.— Adv, 



MEN AND SNAKES. 



Mr. Horace Kephart wishes some one to explain the 

 phenomenon of the blacksnake crawling straight down 

 the trunk of a big tree, which snake he shot with his 

 "pocket revolver." The only explanation I intend to 

 offer is, that he ought not to have shot the snake. It was 

 a perfectly harmless creature, and had as much right to 

 occupy a place in this vale of tears as any other inhabi- 

 tant thereof. I believe the Darwinian theory of the 

 brutish ancestry of man is well exemplified in the pro- 

 pensity so generally manifested, to kill every creature that 

 unluckily falls into his power, unless he has a direct 

 interest in its being alive. Let a strange bird come about 

 the premises, if it is large enough to attract attention im- 

 mediately the cry is raised, "get the gun and shoot it!" 

 Let a half starved deer or other wild creature, in a help- 

 less state approach the cruel precincts of man, the cry is 

 "Kill it, kill it! crucify it!" without other thought than 

 that of mere destruction. 



It is a hopeful sign, however, for the advancement of 

 humanity to a higher plane, that as a man grows older 

 the natural impulse to kill whenever an opportunity 

 presents, diminishes in force. Here is a case in point, 

 which I was reminded of when I read in a recent number 

 of Forest and Stream, about the immunity from danger 

 of a pair of eagles, somewhere on the St. Lawrence River. 

 The writer, if you will pardon the egotism of the recital, 

 whose head is now becoming frosted with the passage of 

 half a hundred winters (and summers), was a short time 

 ago riding along the bank of Flower Lake, when a large 

 brown eagle was discovered on a tree less than 50yds. off, 

 engaged in eating a fish or other prey. He remained 

 under my observation for several minutes before he con- 

 cluded to-sail away over the lake. I had a good Marlin 

 carbine conveniently hanging to my saddle, with which I 

 occasionally knock over a duck, squirrel or rabbit; and 

 though an eagle is considered quite a trophy in these 

 parts I made no attempt to shoot this one, and when 

 asked afterwards why I did not kill him (or her), I simply 

 replied that I had no use for him. In fact, as I grow 

 older, and I believe it is true of others also, there is a 

 growing repugnance to wantonly destroying life of any 

 kind. This, I think, is a worthy sentiment to cultivate, 

 and ought to be taught to all children, and especially 

 boys, while growing up. 



But aside from the sentimental view, which has a 

 more direct relation to the constitution of the mind itself, 

 than the rights of other creatures, we have a very imper- 

 fect acquaintance with the multifarious functions of all 

 the birds, beasts, reptils, insects, fishes and other creat- 

 ures, in the vast economy of nature; and are apt to look 

 w r ith contempt and disregard upon creatures which, 

 apparently insignificent, yet really play an important role 

 in the affairs of the world. For example, until the 

 discovery a few years ago by Darwin, who supposed that 

 the modest and ' retiring angle worm that wriggles so 

 helplessly on the school boy's hook, is the great soil maker 

 of the earth? And jtet it is a fact, that this insignificent 

 creature is engaged in .incessant labor for man's benefit. 

 He bores down deep into the ground, collects and assimi- 

 lates the fertilizing ingredients that make soil and brings 

 it to the surface. Equally or more important functions 

 probably attach to many other creatures, which we do 

 not at all suspect. It is somewhere related that some 

 years ago, in one of the provinces of France, all the small 

 birds had been destroyed, whereupon the noxious insects 

 so multiplied that the labors of the husbandmen were of 

 no avail, and a famine threatened. Measures were then 

 taken by government to restock the land with birds. 

 There is danger that this country is drifting on to the 

 same breakers. But, returning to my text; in all the 

 more thickly settled parts of this country, there are now 

 remaining but comparatively few poisonous snakes of 

 well known varieties, and easily recognized. Of these, 

 the rattlesnake is the only one with which I am ac- 

 quainted that is at all dangerous. The "copperhead" has 

 a bad reputation, but I have never seen one of that 

 variety. The deadliness of the cotton-mouth moccasin of 

 the Southern swamps has been made the theme of blood- 

 curdling stories, which are pure libels on that good- 

 natured and much-enduring reptile; for with him I am 

 on intimate terms, and granting that he has plenty of 

 poison, though short fangs, I have never encountered a 

 specimen that would offer to strike, though poked at --and 

 teased out of all patience. But outside of the few poison- 

 ous varieties, there are very many others that are entirely 

 harmless and have a perfect right to pursue their inno- 

 cent avocations without being ruthlessly destroyed when- 

 ever they chance to fall under the baleful notice of their 

 neighbor man. And who can tell what useful offices they 

 may perform in the destruction of noxious vermin inim- 

 ical to man's welfare? 



I did not intend to preach so long a sermon when I 

 began, Mr. Editor, so with the hope that these hasty ex- 

 pressions may induce some of the thoughtless to do some 

 thinking, I will ring down the curtain. Coahoma. 



Clarksdale, Miss., January. 



Guillemot in Connecticut. 



Willimantic, Conn., Jan. 13,— Editor Forest and 

 Stream: About the middle of December last a boy 

 brought to me for mounting a bird which I think is quite 

 rare for this section of country. It was a species of auk 

 or guillemot, and was shot on the river near one of the 

 thread mills in this city. In size the bird was about the 

 same as a black duck. Top of the head, back of the neck, 

 back and wings were all of a uniform black in color. 

 Throat, breast and all under parts were white, shading 

 off into black on the sides of the neck. The lower edges 

 of the wings tipped with white. Bill narrow, about an 

 inch and a half in length. Feet blackish. I have not 

 been able to find any bird answering to the above in any 

 of the ornithologies to which I have access here. Can 

 you tell me the name of the bird, or can any of the read- 

 ers of the Forest and Stream give me any information 

 in regard to it? Horace J. Fenton. 



[This was very likely a common guillemot (Lomvia 

 troile), or possibly a thickbilled guillemot (L, arre). Ac- 

 t counts have been published this winter in Forest and 



I Stream of the taking of these birds in unusual localities, 

 as on Lake Champlain and in Connecticut, north of tbg 

 town of Madison.] 



