244 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[March 24, 1894. 



this subject has tended to increase rather than reduce such restric 

 tions. 



In Berkshire and its sister counties of Hampshire and Franklin the 

 time within which trout can be legally caught, is still further limited 

 and restricted, and with justice, for among the hills of these three 

 western counties are to be found the best trout streams in the Com- 

 monwealth. 



Of the three counts alleged in the complaint, the Commonwealth has 

 presented evidence sustaining the second count, viz., the taking of 

 trout from the Lee Brook with a net, and claims that such taking is 

 contrary to Section 51, Chapter 91, of the Public Statutes, which pro- 

 vides that whoever takes a trout with a net at any season of the year 

 shall forfeit not less than five dollars nor more than twenty dollars for 

 each fish so taken, as modified by the statutes of 1884 and 1890. 



The defendants, conducting a trout hatchery near said brook, and 

 controlling by lease lands for a considerable distance bordering upon 

 said brook, claim that, under the provisions of Sections 25 and 26, 

 Chapter 91 of the Public Statutes, which provide that a riparian pro- 

 prietor may, within the limits of his own premises, inclose the water 

 of a stream not navigable for the cultivation of useful fishes, provided 

 he furnish a suitable passage for migratory fishes frequenting such 

 waters, and that fishes artificially propagated or maintained shall be 

 the property of the person propagating or maintaining them, and a 

 person legally engaged in their culture or maintenance may take them 

 in his own waters at pleasure, and may have them in his possession 

 for purposes properly connected with said culture and maintenance, 

 etc., he has a right to take trout for certain purposes, and justifies 

 such taking under the sections named. 



The defendant acknowledges the taking of a number of trout, to wit 

 150, from the Lee Brook, with a net, on his own premises, and claims 

 that the said trout are a portion of a large number of trout placed by 

 him in said brook some three months previous to the time of taking, 

 and that he has a right to take said trout for purposes of fishculture. 



Presuming the facts stated by the defendant to be uncon troverted, 

 and that the trout placed in the Lee Brook were defendant's property 

 originally, and that he fed the fish in certain portions of the Lee 

 Brook every day, it seems to the court that the law was intended to 

 give the defendent no such latitude as is claimed by him in the right 

 to take such trout with a net at pleasure. The ownership in trout 

 exists only while they are in the absolute possession or control of the 

 party who may be engaged in their culture or maintenance, and the 

 fact that certain trout were fed each day by the defendant, as in the 

 present case, would not be maintaining them as intended by the 

 statute. The Lee Brook is a trout stream several miles in length, 

 and trout placed in it without furnishing inclosures for their control 

 are placed at the owner's risk and cannot be considered as under his 

 control. The question as to whether trout running for the length 

 of time testified to in a brook can be identified as tame or domestic 

 trout is one of considerable doubt, and is one of secondary import- 

 ance in this case. The court finds the defendant Pollett guilty on the 

 second count of netting 150 trout contrary to the statute and orders 

 him to pay a fine of $150, aud finds the defendant McDonough guilty 

 on the same count and orders him to pay a fine of $10. 



HOW 'RAS FOOLS THE DIVERS. 



One pleasant morning the writer sauntered out on the 

 Biloxi wharf to await the departure of the supply boat 

 for Ship Island, twelve miles distant, where he hoped to 

 bag a few snipe, as well as to enjoy the delightful trip 

 across the sound. 



This wharf is the landing and favorite lounging place 

 of oystermen, fishermen, sailormen; in short, all sorts 

 and conditions of men of aquatic or semi-aquatic tenden- 

 cies. The reason for this preference is sufficiently obvious 

 when it is understood that the outer end of the structure 

 terminates in deep water, while at the shore end there is 

 liquid of another kind — for here is found the only bar- 

 room on the beach. 



The occupants this morning were a couple of dagos, as 

 all Italians, Sicilians, Spanish, Portuguese and Austrians 

 are indiscriminately called hereabouts, who were dozing 

 in the sunshine, while on the opposite side of the wharf 

 sat a sour-visaged old negro, his throat gashed from ear 

 to ear with a fringe of white whisker, a pair of huge 

 silver-mounted spectacles astride his nose, and armed 

 with about ten feet of the business end of a heavy cane 

 fishing-pole, to which was attached an uncommonly 

 robust-looking line bearing a large float, on which a gaze 

 of gloomy expectancy was fixed as it bobbed gently on 

 the surface of the water. 



Seated near him, on a pile of lumber, were four young 

 negro oystermen, one of whom was dramatically describ- 

 ing, to the intense interest and amusement of the others, a 

 court trial of a colored man for larceny, which he had 

 recently witnessed. I seated myself, quietly listening, 

 and was astonished at the talent displayed by 'Ras, for so 

 the speaker was addressed, in his recital. The inimitable 

 manner in which he portrayed the pompous gravity and 

 deliberate utterance of the judge, the eagerness of the 

 lawyers and their squabbles over points of law and evi- 

 dence, together with the sly cunning of the culprit, veiled 

 under an affectation of simplicity, would make the fortune 

 of any sketch artist on the stage who could master the dia- 

 lect, sense of humor, and above all, the unction of the nar- 

 rator and his evident enjoyment of his own tale. Frequent 

 bursts of laughter, ki-yahs and eager questions showed 

 how absorbed were his listeners. I noticed, however, that 

 the patriarch of the pole did not seem to share the general 

 hilarity, and every now and then would wag his head 

 contemptuously in the direction of the group and grumble 

 something apparently not of a complimentary nature. 

 'Ras and another called 'Dolphus, the two talkers of the 

 party, were evidently in his black-book, to judge from his 

 glances and mutterings. 



The conversation about the trial having flagged, I 

 slipped a nitro shell into my gun and dropped a gull flying 

 by — rather a longish shot. The darkies were amazed at 

 the slight report and at the distance as well, and, as it is 

 not etiquette in the South for them to enter, unbidden, 

 into a conversation with a white "getnman," they fol- 

 lowed, in this instance, their usual custom of talking at 

 him among themselves. 



"Sho." said 'Ras to his associates, "wha' kin' o' pow- 

 dah's dat? No noise an' no smoke, but mi'ty wicked kill- 

 in'. Des a lill poppy noise — soun' like Unc' Joe dere 

 scratchin' a match on de seat o' he pants." 



"Den hits pooty pow'ful match Unc' Joe got," rejoined 

 Dolphus, "ter fotch down dat gull so fur off." Uncle Joe 

 cast a baleful glare at the party and kept on mumbling 

 with added bitterness. "Did ye see dat gun, 'Ras?" asked 

 'Dolphus. ' 'Dat's one o' dem 'douten no hammahs on her. ' 



"Dat's fac'," replied 'Ras, "haintgotno hawns 'tall— des 

 look like one dese yere mooley cows. Wot gits me 's dat 

 lill snappy noise like w'en she shoots. Now ef I'd cut 

 loose heah wif my ole smokestack 'tw'u'd shake dis yer 

 whawf off'n its laigs an' tum'l Unc' Joe in de brine, specs 

 an' all, f o' bait f o' de gars. Dey done sho got pizened 

 dough ef dey got bite o' him." 



These allusions to Uncle Joe were by no means well re- 

 ceived by that worthy. The two wags knowing his in- 

 firmity of temper had doubtless been baiting him before 

 my arrival. Their last shot was too much for him, and 

 with a stern look he opened on them: "Ef yo' 'Ras an' 

 yo' 'Dolphus would wag dem oyster tongs o' your'n ha'f 

 so fas' like yo' wag yo' jaws, yo'd a each lifted two bits 

 wo'f o' oysters by dis time o' mawn. I never see sich 

 lazy, shif'les', no 'count niggahs. Stan'n roun' talkin' 

 fool talk an' grinnin' like 'gaters at dere own foolishnes', 

 'sturbin' 'spect'bl' people an' keepin' dem f'm dey 

 wo'k." 



But 'Ras and 'Dolphus were absorbed in my gun, and, 

 beyond exchanging a wink, gave little heed to the old 

 man's scolding. It is astonishing all through the South to 

 note the affectionate and almost reverent regard the 

 negroes have for a modern gun. Rarely do they possess 

 even the most primitive breechloader, and wherever I 

 have been my gun has excited among them a most 

 respectful admiration, part of which seems to be extended 

 even to the owner of so wonderful a weapon. Nearly 

 every darky has a love for hunting, and it would be diffi- 

 cult to imagine anything more dangerous and grotesque 

 than the assortment of junk-shop cripples that pass with 

 them for guns. Old army muskets and carbines, No. 8 

 singlebarreled shotguns, reminding one of the old-fash- 

 ioned blunderbuss, single and double discarded Creole 

 shotguns, with barrels 36 to 40in. long, all muzzleloaders 

 — in short, every description of firearm that can be pos- 

 sibly made to shoot — most of them in the last stages of 

 rust and general decrepitude, the barrels holding to the 

 crazy stocks by dint of wrapping with twine, wire and 

 even leather straps. These they load, by guess, with a 

 handful of the cheapest black powder, usually 5 to lOdrs., 

 with shot in proportion, the peril of the discharge being 

 about equally divided between the game and the shooter 

 — to say nothing of any unfortunate bystander. 



With a view of drawing out the boys, I showed them 

 my gun, explaining its mechanism, and 'Ras, who had 

 taken a glimpse through the barrels, broke out, astounded: 

 "Golly, Dolph, take er squint froo dat bar'l; 'nuff to put 

 yo' eye out; she shine like one dese yer tellus-copes. Ef 

 ye look froo my gun ye t'ink yo' lookin' up er chimley." 



"Da'B so," assented the other, "an' yo' barTs mos' 

 twice's long as dis, even 'lowin' f o' de piece off n' de muz- 

 zle; look like some ole hoss cum along an' chawed off de 

 end." 



"Well," said 'Ras confidentially, with a side glance at 

 the old fisherman, "I done spec de way de end o' dat 

 bar'l got frazzled off was dat Unc' Joe happen along some 

 time an' done took a bite off'n de muzzle wif dat one toof 

 o' his'n." 



The laughter which followed this personal allusion was 

 too much for Uncle Joe, and he retorted savagely: "I 

 done tell yo' two low down niggahs youse common as 

 hawg tracks; you bin spoilt in de cradle; yu' parents aint 

 done dere dooty by ye; you aint had no bringin' up, yo' 

 aint. Ole brack snake 's de only med'cin' fo' yo' sort. Ef 

 yo' b'long ter me I'd des naterally w'r ye out, I wud, if I 

 hatter cut ye inter shoestrin's fus'." 



"Wow," said 'Ras,"ef ole Unc' Joe make sech bitin' re- 

 marks wif on'y one toof, w'at he do ef he got whole set?" 



"I tell you w'at.'Ras Kent," said the old man, now 

 thoroughly aroused, "You aint gwine ter lose none o' yo' 

 teef f'm ole age — gum tree or tellumgraf pole do yo' biznis 

 sho', fo' you git much oldah. You git 'vited to er dance 

 some dese days wha' yo' aint got no lady padnah, but dey 

 give yo' a necktie fo' dat party, an' mi'ty snug fit, too; 

 dat's wha' 'tis. Dah's wha' you'll en' — dancin' on nuffin', 

 an' sarve ye right, too." he added vindictively, "ye mis'ble 

 swamp niggah." 



The boys were delighted with the burst of ire on the 

 part of the old man and would have continued to pester 

 him, but I called 'Ras's attention to a couple of divers just 

 out of gun shot from the wharf, and asked him if they 

 were good to eat. 



"Yas'r, Yas'r, fines' kin' o' eatin' if ye know how to cook 

 'em. But dey's mitey hard to shoot, dey is. Dey's mitey 

 cute an' quick, an' dey know heap 'bout er gun, an' dey 

 des dive at de flash, dey ain't waitin' fer no shot to git 

 dar. But," he went on, "I cud tell ye how to git 'em, 

 sah, on'y I aint got no see-gyah to show you wif — got to 

 have see-gyah, or pipe, or sumpfin to gi' ye de propah 

 idee." 



The cigar was produced, and while 'Ras was lighting 

 up the old man delivered himself in a stage aside, in tones 

 of deepest disgust: "J'eber heah de likes o' dat imperunce. 

 He mout des 's well ax de gemman right out fer a see-gah 

 —dabs wer' he shows his bringin' up. He aint got no 

 man'ehs mor'n one o' dese yer ole he billy-goats, he aint. 

 Dat's de kin' o t'ing make me feel like I lib too long." 



'Ras, never heeding him, commenced: "You des light 

 up yo' see-gyah like dis, sah, an' paddle yo' skiff clost up 

 to de divah. He aint gwine ter fly cos he knows ye git 

 him den, dead sho'. No sah, no flyin' f o' him. W'en ye git 

 clost up he des dive, an' byme-by up he come an' cock he 

 eye roun' at ye, den sah, ye des go so at im: Pouf! [here 

 he emitted a prodigious volume of smoke] an' Blip! down 

 go Mr. Divah! He t'ink dat pouf smoke he seen, de smoke 

 f'm er gun. Byme-by up he pop agin, an' you go like dis 

 agin: Pouf! [another cloud] an' Blap! down he go agin. 

 Now sah, gityo' gun ready. De tird time he come up, yo' 

 go Pouf agin, like dis, wif de seegyar smoke, but ole Mr. 

 Divah. he bin fooled twict an' he des set still an' waggle 

 he tail an' laff. Den you up an' tu'n loose wif dat snappy 

 powdah o' yo'n an' Mr. Divah he des tu'n up he toes to de 

 sky. Yah, yah, dat fetch em ebery time. An'," he added 

 with a side grin, "eny time sah you shoot mo' divah like 

 y' wan' ter eat, Unc' Joe heah be mitey glad ter git a nice 

 fat young un ter put dat toof in — cos Unc' Joe he ver' 

 nice ole gemman — onct ye git ter un'stan' im. He r'ar 

 good deal, an' talk pooty wicked— but bress de Lawd, he 

 doan' mean noffin' by dat — dat's des his way. He mitey 

 fon' o' me too, Unc' Joe is. He do anything fo' me, lub 

 me better'n one his own chill'n, he do. But heah cum de 

 cap'n o' de boat, sah, an' dey'll sta't off in er minit. I'll 

 tote yo' traps aboa'd sah," and taking my gun and shoot- 

 ing coat, the dusky humorist led the way to the boat, fol- 

 lowed by an unspeakable glance from the old black fisher- 

 man. L. J, M, 



HODGE PODGE. 



As the snake question seems to be having another 

 inning, and several- of your worthy contributors have 

 been "to the bat" as it were, I'd like to "strike out" in 

 one way or another, in this and other fields suggested by 

 articles in the last number of Forest and Stream, and 

 would remark in the first place thirty-fourth] y that I sup- 

 port, in the main, "Coahoma's" position. I don't know 

 why he should be wholly incredulous, though, as to the 

 "Garden of Eden myth," as he calls it, for part of it is 

 true, as he must confess, viz.: "On thy belly shalt thou 

 go," etc., but as to the latter part of the curse, "and dust 

 shalt thou eat all the days of thy life," I am a little 

 shaky myself, though we don't know positively that the 

 snake addressed didn't die of want of nourishment. I 

 don't pretend to be thoroughly grounded in the faith that 

 the curse was intended as to diet, to extend to all future 

 generations of snakes; that is, considering dust as we 

 know it to-day. It would be a mighty unsatisfactory 

 and unsatisfying as well as monotonous course of diet, 

 and I don't believe we should have snakes to worry about 

 and scare the life out of women now, if snakes had been 

 thus limited. But maybe, some brother will say, that 

 the dust business was figurative. Well, I believe it was 

 myself; it has to be; but if that part was figurative, what 

 about — Oh! Well, say we drop it. Deep water. I 

 might say, though, in wading out, that I'm aware that 

 there are more than one kinds of dust, and that we all, 

 snakes and people, eat dust in one form or another. I 

 don't believe in killing snakes indiscriminately. If a 

 snake attacks me I kill it in self-defense, not otherwise, 

 unless it is a rattler or moccasin. I sometimes think that 

 it was the cobra that was cursed. He was down that 

 way. 



I don't know what right I have to kill a snake that is 

 harmless to me or any one else any more than I have to 

 kill a young robin. But "Hermit" says he is troubled in 

 his mind because snakes ea.t birds. Did he ever see a 

 robin in spring or some other time cock his head on one- 

 side and suddenly pounce down with his cruel beak on a 1 

 poor innocent worm that was browsing around under 

 cover of the grass after something to eat, and brace back 

 on his hindlegs and pull and jerk and kick until he had 

 the defenseless writhing worm before him, and then 

 gobble it down, or perchance, after jabbing it with his 

 beak until it was limp and lifeless, leave it and hop off 

 after another, because forsooth it wasn't in good con- 

 dition? 



Which has done most good in this world, robins or 

 worms? 



There, are lots of people in this world crueler and more 

 venomous than snakes. Mr. Beal says, "Against the 

 mice which the snakes catch and eat must be set the 

 birds' eggs, etc. ," as if it were a virtuous and highly i 

 praiseworthy act in the snake to kill mice. What harm 

 do field mice do? Of course, when mice play games in 

 the partition about 2 A. M., why, that'B another thing; 

 but that's Mus domesticus. Busticus isn't guilty, and he's 

 the one the snake affects. I always had a liking for 

 mice. They are such cute little beasties, and since the 

 "Singing Mouse" of Mr. Hough has set poesy to music in 

 the wonderfully sweet and tender melody of "Lake Belle- 

 Marie," I shall always have a tender spot beneath my 

 jacket for mousie. It's many a long day since any- 

 thing in that vein has so played on my sensibilities. No 

 maurauding, prowling, sleep-dispelling house mouse ever i 

 sung like that. No, it was the field mouse who lives 

 among the soothing, kindly influences of nature, who 

 hears the morning stars sing together, and the evening 

 breeze in dying cadences, as it lulls the fields to sleep, 

 while the silver sickle hangs in the darkening vault, 

 who sniffs the fresh fragrance of the morning, sees the 

 liquid diamonds as they tremble on leaf and flower, 

 listens to the thrilling carol of birds and the dashing 

 music or gentle lullaby of the stream. 



Yes, it was a lovely song. The "Singing Mouse" may 

 sing and sing, but it will hardly waken our emotions in 

 another as deliciously tender song as that. I thank Mr. 

 Hough for it. He has afforded us much pleasure, for 

 he always writes well, but in my estimation he has done 

 nothing else quite so good as that. 



But to return to snakes. Some years ago, in writing 

 of my experiences in Florida for Forest and Stream, I 

 told of finding a moccasin near the banks of the St. John 

 in much the same position as that of Mr. Kephart. It 

 was about two feet from the bottom of a smooth-barked 

 hickory tree eight or ten inches in diameter, head down- 

 ward, position a little out of vertical, not much. The 

 snake lay perfectly straight, motionless, and I stood a 

 few feet away and watched it some time, when on being 

 touched with a stick it slid down the tree slowly and 

 crawled away. The tree was almost perpendicular, not 

 enough lean to it as apparently to afford any support for 

 the snake. I thought it quite remarkable and so remarked 

 about it, but there was no comment on it, probably 

 because your readers thought it a snake story or because 

 times were not ripe for consideration of such subjects. 

 For one. I am in condition, you see, to believe Mr. K 's 

 story. I think we all should feel very much obliged to 

 Capt. Gallup for explaining how certain snakes can 

 totally ignore the laws of gravity and climb a tree both 

 ways quite the same as legged creatures. But this thing 

 shouldn't have been hidden in a corner since 1832, or 

 anyway since Forest and Stream was born. People 

 should tell what they know right away when they know 

 it, especially about snakes. Those automatic dogs, or 

 clutches, aro great, but I couldn't help thinking that 

 s'posin' they should accidentally get set when a snake was 

 pulling out for home under great stress, why he'd go 

 right out of his skin. Maybe after all that's what these 

 clutches are for principally, and so the manner in which 

 a snake sheds its skin is solved. 



It is common now, as it always has been, to discredit expe- 

 riences which are not one's own. This is wrong. Because 

 I, a thousand miles away, didn't witness that Kekoskee 

 bullhead eruption, or because you at a like distance didn't 

 see the man kill a puma with a club, proves nothing. 

 Truth is stranger than anything a man can invent. Hap- 

 penings are bobbing up every day that never bobbed be- 

 fore. Time wasn't ripe, that's all. 



My friend Judge Greene, who writes so entertainingly 

 and seductively about Green Lake and the Molalla, said 

 recently that a friend of his had lost all the brightness 

 and gayety out of him, had in fact become a pessimist of 

 the most pessim type, and held an undying grudge against 

 the man who killed the puma because he (the Judge) 



