March 7, 1896. J 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
198 
fashions were the order of the day our dinner hour was 
not an exception to the rule. We passed the Red Rapids 
eleven miles from the mouth of the Tobique, and reached 
And over, the shire town of Victoria, and beautifully 
situated, at an early hour. From this the canoe voyager 
can dispense with the services of the Indians, as it is all 
plain sailing to St. John, 55 miles to Woodstock, 130 
miles to Fredericton, a total distance of about 200 miles 
to St. John from Andover. 
To persons taking the trip that I have just described I 
strongly recommend Mrs. Newcomb's comfortable hotel 
at Andover. Her son will be found most obliging in 
securing Indians from the Indian camp at the opposite 
side of the river, and fortunate will any persons be to 
have as guides the same skilled Indians that he secured 
for our party. Micma-C 
Fkedehioton, N. B. 
LE MONDE BLANC. 
The man with the skis was just pulling his sweater over 
his head, when the other man, with a pair of moose-hide 
snowshoes under his arm, came up the path. His elon- 
gated footgear stood in a corner of the porch. A mompnt 
later the entire snowshoe club, consisting of two enthusi- 
astic members, whose enthusiasm is the subject of various 
facetious remarks from their friends, was kneeling in the 
snow tying the thongs around their ankles. 
When the gateways of the landscape are locked by the 
magician Winter, with his key of frost, and the snow, 
covering the fields and lying deep in the woods, repulses 
with drifted barriers the man afoot, who wastes his 
strength while floundering through the crystalline fleece 
which will not sustain his weight and is so heavy to 
struggle through ; when fences are hidden and landmarks 
obliterated, and the green earth sleeps under its white 
coverlid, the one who is able to exclaim "the world is 
mine," and penetrate the frozen mysteries of the belea- 
guered woodland, is the man on snowshoes. 
The "rambler's lease" of other men's property, which 
he holds, does not expire with the first snowfall, but is 
unlimited. The snowshoes — offspring of the stern mother 
f Necessity — invented by some savage genius to satisfy the 
needs of his wild people— distribute the weight of the 
walker over a wide surface, so that he strides forth across 
' the thin shell of crust, or at the most sinks only a few 
inches into soft snow which would otherwise prevent his 
i progress. 
The man on snowshoes sees the wintry world at its best. 
| He is not limited by the boundaries of road or pathway. 
He goes whither his fancy dictates, his blood tingling and 
his body glowing with the exercise. His lungs draw in 
exhilarating drafts of pure, frosty air, and his moccasined 
feet, relieved of heavy shoes, seem as light as if his ankles 
bore the wings of Mercury. 
This particular February morning was bright and clear. 
The thermometer registered several degrees on the wrong 
side of zero, but the sky was intensely blue, and the sun 
shone as brightly as it might in summer. The earth was 
as radiant as the sky, and every snow crystal scintillated 
like a jewel as it reflected the sunlight. 
The snowshoe club pulled its toques well down over its 
ears and started down the slope toward the wooded hill 
across the road. The half of the club on skis put his long 
stick between his legs and coasted gayly down the walk, 
which was trampled hard, while the other half on the 
racquettes betook himself to the tops of the drifts beside 
the path, leaving a broad trail as if some immense web- 
footed fowl had passed along. But going up the hill the 
web shoes had the advantage of the skis, and their owner 
arrived at the top first, where he awaited his companion. 
The gray trunks of the trees were silhouettes, and 
branches and twigs were etched in delicate tracery against 
snow and sky, while broad blue ribbons and finer threads 
of shadow were thrown across the white carpet of the 
woods. 
The road winds down the slope and across the level 
toward the creek, and the timber masses along the stream 
were deeply purple. 
"Now," said he of the skis, "just see how wedojit," and 
he let go the brakes. Down he went swiftly, riding his 
long staff as the witches of old rode their broomsticks, 
the tassel on his toque streaming jauntily like a yacht's 
pennant. All went well till he neared the bottom, when 
one ski entered a rut, and before the lost equilibrium 
.could be regained the late exemplar of the art of flying 
: gave an interesting imitation of the fall of Icarus, the 
long skis waving in the air like the melting wings of the 
son of Dasdalus. He who had remained on the hilltop, 
watching his comrade's descent and rather envying him 
his swift flight, laughed as he witnessed the final catas- 
trophe, and secretly congratulated himself on the posses- 
sion of the slower but more stable racquettes. Choosing 
the deep snow by the fence he also commenced the de- 
scent. Icarus at the foot of the hill was, so to speak, 
smoothing his ruffled pinions. 
But the proverb sayB, "Pride goes before a fall," and 
the snowshoer, who erstwhile made merry at the mis- 
fortunes of another, stubbed his shoe against a stump am- 
bushed under the snow and disappeared head first into a 
[drift. Honors being easy, the club resumed its onward 
'march toward Brush Creek, arriving on its banks with- 
lout further misfortune. The broad pathway of the 
stream, white and level, stretched away between the leaf - 
■less woods, the parallel marks of the skis and the hollow- 
Ishaped tracks of the web shoes breaking its immaculate 
■surface for the first time, except where further up stream 
Isome frightened rabbit had written the story of its gam- 
jbols in the moonlight the night before. Passing out from 
■the shadow of the great gray ice-house, within whose 
■weather-beaten walla was stored the frozen harvest of 
■winter, the walkers kept on around the bend. Here 
1 there were no houses in Bight, and the silent woods which 
■bordered the sleeping stream were as lonesome and deso- 
llate as if the country was still wild instead of being within 
la few miles of a great city. Across the flats, where in 
Isummer the white water lilies come up out of the black 
I mud to float in the sunlight, they turned their course 
toward the "high banks" which with their crown of trees 
rose like a wall before them. How white it was and still 
land cold; but down under the snow all the beautiful life 
lof the vegetable world was awaiting the awakening breath 
of the spring and the south wind. Those dry stalks sticking 
■through the snow, where the level of the ice met the steep 
I slope of the banks, only a few weeks before planted the big 
showy bloasorus of the hibiscus moschentos, and those bare, 
I low bushes above them will a few weeks later perfume 
the June air with the delicate scent of wild roses. Dead 
mullein stalks stood straight and tall, and the ghosts of 
last fall's golden rod nodded disconsolately. The day, 
however, was far too bright for melancholy thoughts. 
The Snowshoe Club, wending its way up Brush Creek, felt 
the joyousness and delight in life which those who love 
nature find no less in the time of cold than in the season 
of heat. At the bend where the brook flows under the 
arched stone bridge to join th« creek a farmer was water- 
ing his cow at a hole cut in the ice, and his dog's deep 
note saluted the travelers. 
Leaving the level of the stream, they now forsook its 
windings for the greater variety afforded by the woods. 
They saw no bird life except; two crows whose harsh 
voices broke the silence as they winged their way across 
the blue expanse above the tree tops, and the rabbit tracks 
were the only signs of the little dwellers of the woods. 
At the top of the hill, where sumacs and thickets of low 
bushes replaced the oaks and hickories, the snow lay deep 
in little glades which opened up in all directions, like the 
coves and inlets of an island-studded lake. 
The sunlight, thrown back into the eyes from the 
dazzling snow, was almost blinding in its brillianoy, and 
the solitude of the place was enchanting as they wound 
in and out among the thickets. This course brought 
them back to the top of the "high banks," where they 
paused to allow their eyes to wander over the white 
world which lay before them. At their feet the frozen 
course of the creek twisted sinuously across the wintry 
landscape; in the distance a curl of smoke rising above the 
trees defined the location of some hidden farmhouse. 
The blue sky, the white earth and the bare leafless 
woods — grayish brown near by and deepening to purple in 
the distance — filled the vision, the whole bathed in a flood 
of golden light. But several hours of exercise in a "below 
zero" atmosphere causes one to remember the fact that 
one's stomach is an organ which when empty requires 
attention, and the Snowshoe Club, seeking a path not too 
steep, plunged down the "high banks" and doubled back 
on its own trail. 
"That was a walk to be remembered," observed the 
half of the club who wore the Snowshoes. 
"It was indeed. We will go again next week," replied 
the other half who wore the skis. W. A. B. 
A HUMID TALE. 
Now I'll tell you about the snow here. Sometimes it 
does; and it isn't snow either, though it's white. It'B 
rain porridge. Everything is saturated with water out 
here, and snow is no exception. Every individual flake 
— no, not flake — lump or gob is sodden clear through, and 
comes straight down like a plumb bob turned Ioobo. No 
airy, fairy, swirling, swaying, graceful, poetical, beauti- 
ful snow out here. It'll cling to you like glue, and soak 
like water. Everything drips here — the heavens, the 
trees, the bushes and you, if you're out. I'm speaking of 
sea level, of course. I don't know how it goes upon the 
mountains, bleak and drear; but I guess it's the same as 
it is down here, for the wonderful, all pervading Japan 
current dominates everything. 
It's mush and slush here anyway, and it's so nice to 
hunt in. The trees — and it's all trees here except the 
front porch — catch all the slush they can possibly carry, 
and it's drip, drop, drap continually, excepting when a 
half bushel or so of mush lets go and comes down ker- 
splash, catching you, if you're thereabout, in the back of 
the neck. Bear in mind that all timber here, or foWA^j 
is fir or cedar, and doesn't let go of anything until it's 
absolutely necessary. Bear in mind, too, that there isn't a 
square rod nor yard of territory that isn't littered with dead 
brush or sticks, or disguised with sal-lal brush, excepting, 
of course, said front porch aforesaid. Then imagine the 
delights of trying to hunt, with some inches of mush 
over everything, concealing slippery sticks on a side hill, 
which sticks you will of course carefully step on, and 
then where are you? Wait until you stop floundering 
and sprawling, and trying to break your bones, and find 
out. And when you step on western Washington or 
Oregon most anywhere in the woods in the snow you 
don't know whether you'll hit solidity or go knee deep 
into a mess of sal-lal or fern that will kindly and care- 
fully scrape all the snow on them into your boots. 
It snowed (mushed) night before last and last night. It 
rained yesterday and dripped all last night, let up a little 
while this morning, and has alternately rained and driz- 
zled and fogged and misted and tried to snow all the 
forenoon. Previous to thiB spell it rained almost steadily 
for two weeks, after endeavoring to get ready in occa- 
sional spits and downpours for another week. If anyone 
wants to go hunting here in the winter (they call it win- 
ter through force of habit), he wants a pair of hip boots 
(rubber), a rubber apron to shed the snow or mush from 
his waist over his boots, a gum coat or slicker, and a sou'- 
wester. Then, if he has just plain horse sense, he'll stay 
in the house. He won't get anything anyway but tired 
and disgusted and exasperated, and that'8 plenty. The 
grouse go into the firs, impenetrable to opticB, and stay 
there, hibernating like bears. 
There are no rabbits or hares in this country, or more 
than one to a Bection, and if corralled he isn't fit to eat. 
The bears have denned. The deer, oh! where are they? 
If the snow gets so deep away up in the mountains that 
starvation stares them in the frontlet, maybe they will 
sneak down here and there when it's raining and no one 
wants to go after them. 
There's absolutely nothing abroad in the upland except- 
ing a stray wildcat maybe, or a meandering mink along 
the creek. The pigeons have pulled out for fairer climes, 
the chilled water has driven the fish to the deep3, and 
naught but ducks tempt the taking of the gun, and when 
it rains always and mushes between times there isn't 
much fun in soaking while one knocks over an occasional 
duck that, when one has harvested him, smells to heaven 
of rotten salmon upon which he has gorged. Of all un- 
satisfactory and exhausting upland hunting, western 
Washington probably furnishes the poorest; of course, 
western Oregon stands pat. 
I followed the devious track of a wildcat the other 
morning, as it showed where it had meandered during 
the night in search of hare or grouse in a long and 
crooked round, if such a thing can be; and while I 
crouched and dodged snow-laden branches, and slipped 
on concealed sticks, and crawled over reeking logs, and 
forded the stream, and wrenched my back and wearied 
my legs, the drizzle descended, the trees divested them- 
selves of their white burden, straightening their crum- 
pled limbs as they did so, and little by little the trail grew 
dim and finally faded out, or was so blotted by patches 
and splashes of fallen wetness that I ceased my quest, 
and calling to mind the fox and the grapes, though not 
from the presence of either m this sodden country, I 
sauntered homeward, shooting a red salmon in the creek 
to satisfy myself as to its sex, and the list of males is as 
yet unbroken. I shot a seal (hair) not long since in the 
salt water with buckshot, and concluded after skinning 
it that when I skinned another it would be when I 
couldn't find anything else to do. The fat is about an 
inch thick all over the body, as tough almost as the pelt, 
and the way it clings to the hide is away beyond descrip- 
tion. If there were a way of boiling or burning it off I 
should be pleased, though I do not expect to amass sud- 
den wealth in the business. It is raining. O. O. S. 
AN AUTUMN NIGHT IN THE WOODS. 
Did you ever pass a night in the woods alone away 
from civilization and all signs of man? If not, you have 
missed something which to me is one of the greatest 
treats in life. 
We will suppose a man has been hunting or exploring 
in northern Minnesota, and toward evening has come 
upon the shore of one of those wild looking rock-bound 
lakes so common in that country. He looks around for 
a place to Bpend the night and selects a spot that is shel- 
tered from the wind and near a leaning tree. He takes 
his hatchet and cuts a lot of boughs and saplings. When 
a sufficient number have been cut, he leans the poles 
against the tree about a foot apart and thatches with the 
balsam boughs till it is thick enough to keep the dew off. 
Then he scrapes the sticks and rubbish from under the 
primitive shelter and piles the remainder of the boughs in 
their place. His appetite has been telling him that the 
supper hour is at hand, so he starts a fire and slices a little 
bacon and bread, puts the bread near the fire so as to 
warm it and toasts the bacon till it is done to his taste. 
Putting the cooked slice between two slices of bread, he 
cooks another and does likewise with it. Thus the ad- 
vantage of having the bread warm is obvious. He is 
hungry enough by this time to enjoy this simple meal as 
much as he would a three course repast in a down-town 
restaurant. When finished he goes to the lake and drinks 
a deep refreshing draught of pure cool water, which in 
ordinary times is a thousand times better than any other 
beverage. 
His thoughts then turn to his pipe, that great com- 
panion and comforter of the woodsman; but he cannot 
take time to rest yet, so he lights up and takes the hatchet 
and goes for the largest pieces of green wood that he can 
carry or roll to the fire; then for that pile of dry driftwood 
on the beach. When satisfied that he has enough to 
last through the night he cuts a couple of stakes, 
sharpens one end and drives them about 3ft. apart 
for the back logs to rest against. He next rolls 
the two largest pieces against the stakes and puts 
the next smaller ones on top of them, and last one 
on top of all. This I find to be the best way to build a 
fire for a shed roofed eamp. The fire has been badly dis- 
turbed by the rolling of the logs across it, so he rakes the 
embers up on the first log and adds some dry stuff, which 
makes such a good light that he can see very well to 
arrange the "feathers," Michigan ones, you know. When 
finished he comes out by the fire to enjoy the best part of 
woods life, namely, smoking and thinking before the fire, 
studying the stars and silently worshipping his Creator. 
He cannot understand how any person who has been in 
the woods can doubt the existence of a supreme Being 
that has control of all nature, when even the savages see 
it in their every-day life. 
Scientists say that the mind is clearer in the morning 
than at any other time of the day, but I think we are 
better able to work out the problems of life before the 
evening _camp-fire than at any other time or place that I 
know of. 
Oar woodsman is growing sleepy, and as his pipe shows 
signs of going out he knocks it thoughtfully against a log 
and prepares for sleep. Gathering his belongings together 
and putting them where he can easily reach them, and 
adding more fuel to the fire, he turns in and sleeps as 
peacefully as if at home, where^indeed he is, though he 
does not call it so. Sometimes in the night he wakens 
with a feeling of coldness and finds the fire has burned 
very low, so he yawns and gets up to replenish the blaze 
aad have another smoke. As he half sits, half reclines, 
in front of the fire he thinks of friends and loved ones far 
away, not envying, but rather pitying them and their 
hard fate to be shut up in a room, almost airtight, in the 
city on such a night as this. Arising, he puts on as much 
wood as he dares and then lies down to slumber peace- 
fully till daylight, when he awakes feeling perfectly 
refreshed and able to cope with any task that may come 
to him dnring the coming day. 
He has spent a good night. Cruiser, 
Acknowledgment. 
It would be base ingratitude for one to get so much 
genuine satisfaction out of anything as I have had in Mr. 
Robinson's new series, and say nothing about it. I 
laughed till I disturbed the family circle the other even- 
ing at the result of Sam and Antoine's joint attack on the 
daoks. Haven't I been there? Antoiae'a abuse of his gun 
was calculated to strike a reaponsive chord in every 
hunter's beast. I am not personally acquainted with hiB 
lingo, but it is enough like "English as she is spoke" 
among these bland southrons where I make my home to 
inspire perfect confidence in its accuracy. The dialogues 
about the camp, the masterly delineation of marsh scenery 
and of the changing features of Dame Nature as she 
smiles or frowns, take one away from business, away from 
cities, away from everything, to the side of the little 
company on the Slang. If the unaffected admiration and 
regard of a reader in a far country will be any return to 
the gifted author for the genuine pleasure he has often 
and over given me, I hope the editor will kindly give 
place to these lines. Aztec. 
San Luis Potosi, Mexico. 
Game Laws in Brief. 
The Game Laws in Brief, current edition, sold everywhere, has 
new game and fish laws for more than thirty of the States. It covers 
the entire country, is carefully prepared, and gives all that shooters 
and anglers reqnjre, See advertisement, 
