March 31, 1896.J 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
238 
A REST1GOUCHE BEAR. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
Owing to the roughness of the country, the difficulty in 
constructing totes or portages for the supply of the lum- 
bermen in certain portions of New Brunswick compels 
them to use barges or flat- bottomed scows, 60ft. long, 8ft. 
wide and 2ft. deep, carrying from five to seven tons, 
drawn up the streams by three or four horses, often 100 
miles to the scene of the winter's operations. 
One morning late in October, at dawn of day, thirty 
years ago, I left my home at Dee Side on the Restigouche 
River, as captain and steersman on the cabin of my own 
boat. Besides my crew of three men I had as passengers 
my team of four horses, and so used are they to being 
carried down the stream that they stand very quiet, 
munching their hay and oats. The morning was cool, 
causing the fog to rise very thickly from the water. 
Around an island a mile below our starting point the 
river ran very strong, and at its lower end I caught sight 
of a large looking animal just stepping into the water. 
In a few seconds I made out that it was a bear crossing to 
a farm where previously he had been on the mutton chop 
business. The weight of the barge in the rapid water 
made us go much faster than the bear, and with our three 
oars at work we soon overtook him. As we neared him 
I steered the barge between him and the shore so as to 
cut off his landing. Seeing we were going to overtake 
him. I ordered my best bowman to stand on the flat tran- 
som (which forms the bow of the barge), having a long 
iron-shod maple handspike poised over his shoulder, and 
when I gave the word to strike him on the head with all 
his might. When we got within 4ft. of the bear I said, 
"Now, Jack, hit him." Jack struck, but not sufficiently 
hard. The bear sank and the barge ran over him. 
I had told the other men to be ready with their poles 
the instant the bear was struck to snub the barge, as we 
were in about 4ft. of water. They did so, while I swung 
the stern around toward the shore. This action threw 
the barge off the bear, and he popped up about the middle 
of the boat, coming well out of water and making a grasp 
at the gunwale with his f orepaws. The quick swinging 
of the boat, combined with his ducking, made him miss. 
How it would have fared had he made good his footing 
among the horses I had not the pleasure to find out, as he 
got a sight now of the opposite side of the river and made 
for it apparently none the worse. We held the barge 
againBt the current for a little until the bear was some- 
what below us, then put out our oars and went after him. 
He had some 200yds. to swim, and we overtook him just 
in time before he touched the bottom. Again the word 
was, ''Now, Jack!" This blow broke his s&ull, down 
went his head, the boys reached over and grabbed him 
by the rear, holding him partly under the sloping bow, 
and the impetus the barge had drove us up on the shore. 
He weighed 3U0ibs. and was in fine condition, both meat 
and skin. 
In dressing him I found his stomach quite full of some- 
thing hard, but movable, and it turned out to be the 
clean-shelled meat of the hazel nut. Now, as the nuts 
had long fallen from the bushes and been gathered by 
the squirrels, the rascal must have robbed some of their 
winter's stores. 
I may say that in my forty years' traveling through the 
woods I never saw a bear unless in a trap. Their scent is 
so keen and their hearing so acute that they are off before 
you can get a sight of them. As for a bear's footfall, you 
can see its print in soft ground, but nev?r hear it. 
Fred. Mow at. 
HUNTING IN THE DISMAL SWAMP. 
Baltimore, Md. — During the past year more informa- 
tion has been gathered about the Dismal Swamp of Vir- 
ginia than was ever before known, and this information 
is of interest and practical value to the hunter and 
scientist. A party of scientists from the Department of 
Agriculture ventured into the swamp last summer to 
study the flora and fauna of the dismal region, and they 
gathered specimens of many rare animals, birds and 
plants. Over fifty species of birds were found breeding 
in the swamp; wild animals roamed about in the thickets, 
bears and wildcats, and nearly all of the small game, in- 
cluding deer and opossums; snakes were more abundant 
than in any other similar region in the South, and Lake 
Drummond, in the middle of the swamp, was literally 
swarming with perch, black bass, pickerel, sunfish and 
panfish. 
The Bwamp proper consists of about 120,000 acres of low- 
land, covered with dense thickets of cypress, juniper, pine, 
blackjack and many other trees and shrubs. So dense is 
this thicket that it is difficult in many places to force an 
entrance through it, and the hunters have to depend upon 
the narrow, winding channels for a pathway. Dugouts, 
12ft. long and a few feet wide, are used for navigating 
the channels and lagoons of the swamp, and the natives 
wander through the pathless wilderness in this way with 
great ease. If one wishes to walk through the swamp 
after his game he must carry one of the long Southern 
cane knives, with which he can cut the brakes, cat-briers 
and thorns that will constantly impede his way. One 
mile an hour in this way is considered rapid traveling in 
the Dismal Swamp. 
But fortunately for the hunters there are numerous 
waterways through the swamp that enable them to reach 
the very heart of the gunning region. One of these 
waterways in particular is an old canal started in the days 
of George Washington and abandoned to-day except for 
hunting purposes and for floating cypress trees and logs 
down to the coast. This Dismal Swamp Canal is probably 
one of the oldest in this country, and among the original 
incorporators of the company was the first President of the 
United States. When Cornwallis was at Yorktown Gen. 
Washington availed himself of the canal to bring supplies 
across the country, and it was through this secret water- 
way that he succeeded in replenishing his stock of stores 
without exposing his men to the guns of the enemy. No 
one who was not thoroughly familiar with the topography 
of the country would ever have suspected the presence 
of a long canal running straight through the impene- 
trable swamp. 
The digging of the canal started by accident and was 
completed in a peculiar way. The demand for juniper 
and cypress shingles first induced the Southerners to tres- 
pass into the wilds of the swamp. The cypress and juni- 
per trees flourished in abundance, and the woodchoppers 
chopped down all along the shore and then began to 
t enetrate inland. But as they proceeded the soil became 
so soft and wet that it was found impossible to secure 
what they wanted. To simplify matters a narrow, long 
ditch was dug as they entered the forest, and the logs 
were floated in this to their destination. The ditch was 
made wide and deep enough to float a flat-bottom boat. 
One end connected with Deep Creek, a tributary of Eliza- 
beth River, so that the logs could be floated right to the 
market of Norfolk. Year by year this work of gathering 
shingles went on, and further and further into the dismal 
wilds was the canal cut by the workmen. Most of the 
workmen were slaves, superintended by their white over- 
seers. A certain number of shingles were required from 
each slave in one day, and all over and above these they 
were paid for. Years after the ditch was first started the 
workmen were startled one day by hearing strange voices 
in the distance. At first this frightened the workmen so 
that they were inclined to think that the swamp was the 
abode of evil spirits, but an investigation disclosed the 
fact that the North Carolina slaves had been digging a 
ditch from the opposite side toward the center of the 
swamp for the same purpose. The two parties had con- 
sequently met and over twenty miles of canal had been 
dug out of the swamp. The two parties had for years 
been digging independently toward each other, neither 
one knowing that the other was engaged in the same 
work. The point where the canals meet is marked by an 
angle. The canal is now owned by the Dismal Swamp 
Land Co., and it is very valuable to-day because of the 
ease with which the cypress and juniper shingles can be 
got to market. The shingles are made right in the swamp 
and shipped to the coast on flat-bottom boats. Logs 
are also floated down to Norfolk. At one time when the 
cypress and juniper were more plentiful in the swamp 
than to-day a single share of the canal company's stock 
was worth $33,000. 
Lake Drummond is located right in the center of the 
swamp, and is one of the loneliest bodies of water in the 
country. When the canal was cut through a branch was 
dug to connect with the lake, so that the water would 
rise higher, and one can consequently reach the lake in a 
dugout very easily. A curious phenomenon of the swamp 
is that the boggy soil in dry seasons becomes inflam- 
mable clay, which will burn half the year when once set 
on fire. The swamp represents a modern coal-forming 
epoch . During last summer the middle of the swamp was 
on fire for three months, burning not only the trees and 
underbrush, but the soil. Lake Drummond was supposed 
to have been formed by fire. Centuries ago fire must 
have burned out the present depression in the middle of 
the swamp, and the rains and streams of water in the 
swamp filled the excavation with water. The lake to-day 
is a beautiful sheet of water, frequented by birds and 
wild game, who come to its shores for food and drink. In 
the fall of the year innumerable deer are run into the lake 
by hunters, who then catch them with dogs. 
During slavery days it was said that many runaway 
slaves escaped into the Dismal Swamp and lived upon the 
small islands that jut up out of the oozy slime here and 
there, subsisting: upon the wild berries, birds and animals. 
Even the bloodhounds could not track them successfully 
here, owing to the wet, boggy nature of the soil, which 
would completely throw them off their scent. In many 
places the hunter sinks up to his waist in mud if by chance 
he steps off one of the bogs. The water is of a very dark 
color, similar to that in nearly all of the Southern streams; 
but it is excellent for drinking, and quenches the thirat as 
quickly as the best artesian well water. Lake Drummond 
ia filled with pure water, and much lighter in color than 
that found in the streams in the swamp. 
There are many reptiles in the Dismal Swamp, but the 
vast majority are harmless snakes, and the hunter can 
pick them off the logs with impunity. But it is well to 
understand the different species of snakes before attempt- 
ing this. The cotton-mouth moccasin frequents the 
shades of the swamp and his bite is deadly. The small 
rattlesnakes, with here and there a diamond-back, may 
be found sunning themselves on the logs or trees. The 
swamp is also quite full of wild cattle, which have strayed 
from domesticated herds long before the Rebellion, and 
who have degenerated into creatures scarcely recogniz- 
able. They roam through the glades in herds of two or 
three, and hunters shoot them as they do bears. Although 
very diminutive in size, thtS9 semi-wild creatures are 
fierce and strong, and a young bull would be more than a 
match for a Southern bear. The cattle are stalked and 
hunted in considerable numbers, but they are always shot, 
and not lassoed and taken home alive. 
Bears are very numerous throughout the whole length 
and breadth of the 300 square mik s. They are chiefly the 
small Southern black bear, ugly and ferocious when cor- 
nered, but a coward when there is a chance to escape. 
They subsist chiefly upon the wild berries and the fruit of 
the sour gum. Hunters in one trip up the canal as far as 
Lake Drummond in the fall of the year have killed as 
many as twenty bears. Wildcats, possums and raccoons 
are quite plentiful, so that the hunter may never look 
long for sport to tempt his gun., ' The wildcats are par- 
ticularly vicious and aggressive in these wild, dark 
haunts. They feel more at home in the dense forest than 
elsewhere, and they do not hesitate to attack a man when 
wounded. Brought out into the open country beyond the 
edges of the swamp, they prove as cowardly as the bears, 
but they appear to resent the intrusion of man into their 
wild region, and they exprees their feelings in unmis- 
takable snarls and cries. The first night the inexperienced 
hunter spends in the Dismal Swamp he is apt to forget all 
about sleep. The wild cries of the wildcats, and the 
screams of nightbirds, and croaking of frogs, with an 
occasional bellow of an alligator, do not give to the air 
the pleasantest sounds. But in reality there is no danger. 
No hunter has ever yet been attacked in the swamp by 
beast, bird or fish. 
The squirrels are probably the most numerous of all the 
animals in the swamp, and they are so abundant that it is 
a wonder they can find enough to eat. The squirrel 
hunter in the North would do well to visit the .Dismal 
Swamp if he would like to find his favorite game in num- 
bers suitable to his wishes. The swamp is full of nut and 
berry trees, and the squirrels fight with the bears for their 
share. Iu the fall of the year when the nuts are ripe the 
squirrels pick them up from the edge of Lake Drummond, 
where the wind has blown them in long windrows. 
Thousands of equirrels may be seen running along the 
shore and out upon logs and sticks to gather the fallen 
nuts. 
While deer are common in the swamp, they are very 
difficult to get unless provided with good hounds that can 
chase them through the swamp. They always take to 
the center of the swamp when pursued, and invariably 
seek Lake Drummond. In this respect they show their 
shortsightedness, for the hunters divide into two parties 
and take advantage of their weakness. While one party 
starts the dogs on their track the other waits patiently in 
the small dugouts on the lake, and as soon as the deer is 
heard crashing through the bushes they start for him. 
Once in the water the hunted creature can easily be shot 
or captured alive. Many fine Southern deer have been 
caught in this way for parks and museums, and there is 
no trap so secure and sure as Lake Drummond. 
Birds abound, and breed in the trees, in the bushes, on 
the ground, and even under it. They sing in joyful 
songs from every bush and twig, or flash their gaily- 
plumaged bodies before your eyes at every turn in the 
canal. T ne long-legged crane and the equally long-necked 
blue heron flutter up from the lagoons in twos and threes; 
the graceful and brightly-clothed ibis watches you from 
the side of some swamp stream; innumerable ducks and 
geese flock in the center of Lake Drummond and inspect 
you warily ; brush turkeys wander through the highest 
part of the swamp and utter their peculiar calls; and from 
every log and bush some strange bird greets you with a 
stare of wonder or welcome, and then utters a cry of fear. 
It is like going through a museum of natural history to 
pass through the swamp in a dugout. Rice mice, field 
mice, golden mice and lemming mice run up and down 
the trees and bushes and hide themselves among clusters 
of leaves and branches. 
The forest growths are no less interesting and varied 
than the animals and birds. Cypress trees and junipers 
50 years old tower high up above the swamp under- 
growth; magnolias 60ft. high produce magnificent blooms 
that seem to touch the clouds and scent the whole forest 
around with their delicate odor; vines wrap and entwine 
every tree, squeezing out the life from the weak and 
seeking support from the strong; air plants 50ft. among 
the branches blossom half the year and drop long tendrils 
down to ward the gloom below, and in the summer season 
the wild jasmine, laurel, dogwood and honeysuckle laden 
the air with such a combination of sweet odors that one 
feels intoxicated. It seems more like a fairy land than a 
swamp. The gloom and darkness of the vaults unier 
the trees suggest unearthly regions, while the beauty of 
natural objects around relieves the mind of the depress- 
ing sense of forbidding surroundings. There are very 
few such places in this country that can produce the com- 
bined effect of gloominess and enchantment that one 
always feels when shut up in the dark glades of Virginia's 
Dismal Swamp. G, E. W. 
NEW ENGLAND DIALECTS. 
Charlestown, N. H., March 7.— Editor Forest and 
Stream; While I agree fully with your delightful corre- 
spondent M. de Montauban in admiration of Mr. Robin- 
son's faithful representation of the Yankee and Kanuck 
dialects, as given in the Uncle Lisha series of sketches, I 
must differ with him decidedly in the supposition that the 
speech of the early settlers of northern Vermont and New 
Hampshire was in any way derived from an Irish ances- 
try oi tinctured with Irish brogue. The fact is, to the 
best of my recollection, that the Irish element was an al- 
most unknown factor in northern New England until the 
building of the great railroad systems of the Vermont 
Central and Concord & Montreal during the period of ten 
or twelve years beginning in 1845. The Irishmen, driven 
from home by the great potato famine, then came over 
here in thousands, and did the great bulk of the manual 
labor in grading and excavating for these roids, an occu- 
pation for which the sturdy backs developed by their 
digging in the peat bogs of their native country emi- 
nently fitted them. Tiiey were as essential to the building 
of the railroad systems of New Eagland as were the Chi- 
nese, in later years, to those of the Pacific Coast. Where 
they were planted they stayed, and their children brought 
up in our common schools are becoming valuable citizens, 
very different from those who have hung around the 
docks and slums of the great cities. In my boyhood days 
an Irishman was nearly as great a curiosity in northern 
New Eagland as a red Indian, and I well remember the 
appearance of the first pair who came to this village at a 
somewhat earlier date, say 1835 or '6. One of them, Mi- 
chael Tobin, was a strong, sturdy fellow, and at once 
found employment on a farm; the other, Peter Stoneham, 
was a confirmed invalid, but made a living, while he did 
live— which was not long — by ransacking the banks of 
the river and brooks for willows, osiers he called them, 
from which he supplied the village with baskets. 
I remember his. teaching me how to make one which 
lasted for a chip-basket for a year or two, and I tried to 
make a trout creel, but it was too clumsy for comfort. 
Two or three more drifted slowly in afterward, and found 
employment as gardeners in the village, but the great in- 
flux did not come until 1846 or '7. 
It is true there was a large immigration in the south- 
eastern part of the State in the last century of the Scotch 
Irish, as they were called, from Ulster county, and the 
names of Derry, Londonderry and Windham yet bear 
testimony to their points of departure, but they were of 
Scotch origin, and showed it in name, looks and language. 
Among the most honored names in New Hampshire 
arethose marked with the Scotch Mac, such as McUiary, 
McDuffie, McGaw, McGregor, McNeill, McQaeston and' 
McRae, but they did not bring any brogue with them, 
and "there were no flies on them" either, to use the last 
slang phrase. 
If Mr. Montauban will look over Sam Lovel again 
he will find that Sam speaka of an Irishman as 
rather a curiosity in his experience. 
The dialect and character of the native Yankee, as given 
by Mr. Robinson, are perfect as I recall them in the days in 
which he lays his scenes, and we now have a venerable 
fellow town8manjwhom I can remember, when his wife was 
living, as always referring everything "to M'ri," while 
Uncle Lisha pegged boots at the corner near my father's 
house, and for a year or two after I first left home I was 
a fellow boarder with a Maine doctor who was a fac- 
simile of Solon Briggs. Sam Lovel himself would almost 
pasa for a photograph of my late lamented colleague on 
the Fish and Game Commission, A. H. Powers. Many of 
these so-called Yankeeisms are pure old English, now 
become obsolete at home, but I was much surprised at 
meeting some of them on their native heath in Lanca- 
shire and Yorkshire, when in Eagland in 1850-1. Giving 
a man "a licking" instead of "a thrashing" was the first 
