872 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
At the same time Aunt Jerusha hovering about him, 
intent on motherly offices from which she could not be 
diverted until Uncle Lisha had shouted at her three times 
with increasing volume of voice. 
"Haow come ye tu come? Good airth an' seas! that's 
what I want tu know," while Joseph could not find a 
chance to inquire after the welfare of his father or to ask 
what message M'ri' had sent. 
"What was 't you was sayin', father?" Aunt Jerusha 
asked at last, yet still giving her attention to Sam. 
"Haow 'd we come? Why, we tackled right up the 
waggin an' come along. But we never tol' nob'dy 'at we 
was a-comin' here. The' 'd ha' be'n objections, no eend 
on 'em, if we'd ha' toF. Hed n't you better pull ye boots 
off, Samwil, an' stick ye feet up on that chunk? An' so 
you see, Huldy she hed some dried apple 'at she wanted 
tu trade off, an' we jest fixed it up betwixt us 'at we'd 
fetch it daown tu Vergennes an' stay over night tu Cousin 
Chase's an' then come here! An' so we did, an' here we 
be. Hain't you glad tu see ue? You don't act as if you 
was, not turrible." 
"Why, yes, we be tew," Uncle Lisha protested; "but 
you see, you took us kinder onawares." 
"We didn't hev time tu put on aour tother clo's," said 
Sam. 
"Wal, tu tell the truth an' not no jokin' abaout it," said 
Aunt Jerusha, "we fetched daown all on ye's t'other clo's 
as fur as Cousin Chase's, an' there they be." 
"You didn't never, Jerushy Paiggs," said her husband, 
incredulously; but she nodded repeated affirmatives and 
smiled serenely. 
"Wal, then, what did ye for? Be you goin' tu sell 'em 
or be you goin' tu take us to meetin' or a-visitin', or what 
is 't?" 
"No, not nary onp." said she, after a moment's enjoy- 
ment of her auditors' mystification; "but tu the caravan 
'at's comin' nex' day arter day arter tu-morrer. We caF- 
lated you'd plan tu go to 't, an' we'd go tew, on Bub's 
'caount. His gran'pa an' gran'ma's goin' tu fetch him, 
an' we wa'n't a-going tu hev you 'raound in your oF ev'y- 
day clo's." 
"Good airth an' seas, if I hadn't clean forgot it!'' Uncle 
Lisha declared in genuine surprise at his forgetfulness of 
so important an event. 
"Seems 's 'ough I did kinder think on 't when you was 
a-carummuxin wi' that oF ram," said Joseph; "but I hain't 
thought on 't sence an' I do' know when afore." 
"Forgot it! ' Aunt Jerusha exclaimed with mild scorn; 
"that's a likely story, an' it all pictered aout in red an' 
yaller ev'ywheres. Anyways, it is naow up tu Danvis 
even on tu folkses barns, an' ev'ybody's a-goin'." 
"On Bub's 'caount, 1 s'pose," her husband remarked, 
bestowing a wink upon the companv. "I do' know what 
we'd all du if it wa'n't for that boy." 
"I don't nuther," Aunt Jerusha assented heartily. "But 
it don't signify. "We're all a-goin' an' a-goin' lookin' 
somehaow. O, you needn't think me an' Huldy didn't 
fetch aour t'other bunnits," as she detected a quizzical 
glance at the gingham sun-bonnets. "An' you needn't 
worry none; we made cal'lations on your not bein' pre- 
pared for comp'ny an' laid in wi' the folks where we left 
aour hoss and waggin tu keep us over night in case you 
didn't hev spare beds." 
"We got feathers 'nough, seems 's 'ough," Joseph said, 
"but I don't know 'baout the tick, not sca'cely." 
"An' we fetched along a loaf o' bread, an' some butter, 
an' some b'iledaigs an' some quick pickles," Aunt Jerusha 
continued, casting a doubtful eye upon Antoine's pan- 
ful of fried duck, " 'cause we didn't know but what you 
might be gittin' short; but I will say it smells better'n 
it looks. Be ye gittin' dried off, Samwil? They be rael 
socierable folks where we left the hoss. Larkins is the 
name— I b'le' so, an' they 'peared tu be consid'able 
'quainted wi' some on ye," She cast a quizzical glance 
around, ending at Huldah, who shook her head. "Why, 
good land! what hurt '11 it du? Don' they all know what 
they done?" 
"What in time be you a drivin' at?" Sam asked. Hul- 
dah still shook her head and gave at the same time a de- 
precatory "S-h-h," but Aunt Jerusha persisted in telling 
her tale. 
"Why, nothin', only them folks was a tellin' haow't an 
oF man an' a fat man come there one day with a wiF 
goose 'at they'd shot, praouder'n tew rhusters, an' cometu 
it was a tame wiF goose 'at them folkses hed. O, my 
sakes!" She ended with a fit of laughter in which Sam 
and Antoine joined as they comprehended the gist of the 
story, while tne heroes of it looked foolish, though Uncle 
Lisha tried to make light of it by saying, 
"Sho, women folks '11 b'lieve anything you tell 'em. 
That 'ere Larkins '11 lie faster'n a hoss c'n trot. What 
was that 'ere yarn he tol' you, Samwil?" But he failed to 
divert inquiry and was obliged to admit the truth of the 
charge. Yet he was consoled for this humiliation by the 
admiration that bis real wild geese drew forth when he 
exhibited them, and Joseph's store of feathers were given 
unqualified praise. 
Tnen Antoine announced supper and the embarrassed 
hosts led their guests to the repast, which they attacked 
with no great zest, having seen.the cook wipe on his trou- 
sers the fork with which he turned the contents of the 
pan, and use his hat for a holder. Yet they praised what 
was set before them, while making a meal mostly from 
the provisions they had brought with them. Then they 
helped to clear the table and made the dishes cleaner than 
they had been since their first use here. 
After this all the company gathered around the fire, 
the men smoking, Aunt Jerusha regaling herself with 
snuff, Hulda unwontedly idle for lack of knitting, while 
all the latest Danvis news was told and with judicious 
omissions all the adventures of the camp, ana so well 
did the visitors enjoy their first taste of this life that they 
decided to lodge in the tent, where a luxurious bed was 
prepared for them with a double allowance "of cedar 
twigs. 
At sundown the north wind died, but the pulse of waves 
still beat upon the beach in regular recurrence above the 
slumberous murmur of distant shores. A company of 
bitterns were performing a farewell rite on the eve of 
migration, uttering uncouth squawks as they wheeled 
high above the marshes in awkward gyrations, and fre- 
quent flights of ducks were whistling past and splashing 
into channel and marsh. 
The busy air was filled with sounds that were strange 
to Huldah's ear; the shuddering cry of a screech owl and 
the sad monotony of the crickets were the only familiar 
ones among them all. These with the slow wash of 
waves were the voices that her dreams shaped themselves 
to, when with a lingering sense of strange environment 
she fell asleep. Rowland E. Robinson. 
SERPENTS AND SENTIMENT. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
The writer, having already categorized himself as a 
"back number." is well content to lay aside his much- 
worn "Faber No. 2," leaving the field of hunting adven- 
ture and fishing narrative to younger and fresher chron- 
iclers, whose ready pens and facile art of story-telling are 
well attested in the bright and entertaining pages of 
Forest and Stream* 
I am moved, however, to arise to a point of order and 
let fall a few remarks in mild rebuke upon finding my 
own peculiar domain as Forest and Stream's "snake 
editor" — in the enjoyment of which distinction I have 
some while reposed in honorable retirement — invaded by 
two of your correspondents in a recent number. These 
heedless and superficial speculators in snake philosophy, 
unmindful that the eye of the snake editor is ever alert 
to pounce upon and demolish any unorthodox theories 
that may be advanced by novices in this his chosen field, 
have presumed to reopen controversies that have long 
since been put to rest by authority. 
To come down to particulars, Mr. L. G. Sanford has 
again conjured up that well-worn spook, the "stinging 
snake," which was long since exorcised and consigned to 
the realms of myth. The snake as described is evidently 
that well-known variety which everywhere bears the un- 
savory reputation of carrying a most diabolical concealed 
weapon in its nether pocket — a weapon bo well concealed 
that no one has ever been able to see it. 
Mr. Sanford's evidence that this was a real, simon phre 
stinging snake seems to have been chiefly the snaked 
general reputation and incidentally the peculiar move- 
ment of its tail, which latter, from its suggestivehess, is 
probably the sole basis for the former, 
Mr. Sanford does not allege that he saw the sting, al- 
though it would seem that he had every opportunity to 
verify its existence by ocular demonstration. He in- 
closed the tip of the tail to Forest and Stream, but the 
editor does not record that the sting went along with it. 
It was most unfortunate that Mr. Sanford should have 
destroyed such a rare curiosity as a veritable stinging 
snake; any museum would have regarded it as a very 
valuable acquisition. 
The writer made a careful examination of one of the 
same species a few years ago, failing to find anything 
like a sting, or any place for one, as the minute vertebras 
extended quite to the tip of the tail. 
The proneness of the human mind to accept any mar- 
velous statement as to snake attributes is everywhere 
manifest, and probably has its origin in the old biblical 
serpent myth in the garden of Eden story, a myth 
which was common to many primitive peoples besides 
the ancient Hebrews. In the experience of our earliest 
ancestors the serpent was a prominent feature, and from 
the dread which he inspired was held to be the embodi- 
ment of guile. Hence the place assigned to him in all 
the earliest cosmical myths. 
And now comes brother Ransacker in the rdle of an 
implacable judge, condemning all snakes without dis- 
crimination; charging them with a long catalogue of 
crimes too heinous for condonement; forgetting that the 
self -same offenses are common in all their enormity to 
nature's multifarious chain of predatory animals, birds, 
reptiles and fishes. 
Does Ransacker's own pet cat, which purs so inno- 
cently and cozily by Jus fireside, pursue the pretty warbler 
with less stealth, or devour the helpless nestling with more 
remorse, or prolong the agonies of the harmless mouse 
with less needless cruelty than the graceful and beautiful 
garter snake exhibits when it appropriates to its own pri- 
vate and personal use the repast which kind (or unkind) 
nature has appointed for it? 
Is the hawk more tender than the chicken snake when 
he bears away in his talons the bird or barnyard fowl, 
screaming with agony, to be torn piecemeal while still 
struggling, for the delectation of himself and his family 
circle? 
Is the pike more mindful than the blacksnake of life's 
amenities when he gobbles up the tender troutlings into 
his capacious maw, with exultation in his healthy appe- 
tite? 
Or the lordly turkey gobbler, when he approaches the 
unsuspecting grasshopper from the rearward, has he any 
regard for the latter's comfort or convenience when he 
yanks him off the sweet potato vine? 
Lastly, when Ransacker himself curtails his wholesome 
rest, forsakes his comfortable bed at an unlawful hour (in 
violation of nature's code), shivers through the dawning 
hours bedrenched with chilling dews, and lies in treacherous 
ambush for the same amorous gobbler, which he enticeth 
to his destruction by imitating the inviting call of his love 
mate — can Ransacker, with a blameless conscience, 
arraign any one of nature's children for a simple obedi- 
ence to the law of its existence? 
There is an old story, witb which most readers are 
acquainted, that comes down from a time when men and 
beasts were on a more equal footing and held familiar 
intercourse, which recites that a certain artist painted a 
picture of a lion with a spear thrust through its body, and 
the man who wielded the spear standing triumphant over 
the lion's prostrate form. This picture he exhibited to a 
lion, who remarked, "Ah, but let me draw the picture!" 
The moral of this story is obvious. If the snake could 
only sit in judgment what a true bill he would find 
against Ransacker for cruelty, rapine and murder unpro- 
voked, and all the crimes on the calendar, with number- 
less counts and particulars! 
Ransacker, with his mind full of unreasoning prejudice, 
even accuses the snakes of having "slimy foldsi" Now, 
who ever saw a snake with "slimy folds?" I challenge 
anybody to produce such a snake. The slimy folds of 
Ransacker's snake are just as mythical as the sting in 
Mr. Sanford's specimen. It is a fact most patent to com- 
mon observation that nature's whole scheme of animal 
existence presents one boundless field of cruelty and 
suffering. The whole fabric of mundane life is based 
upon an endless chain of life's destruction, accompanied 
with what appears to be needless suffering. 
In the whole domain of nature; so far at least as out 
earth is concerned, man alone is distinguished from ali 
other animals by the characteristic which we call ttiercyj 
or altruism, which is manifested in the lower animals in 
one direction oniy } and that because life's survival de- 
mands it, to wit, parental solicitude for the young. 
This distinguishing attribute of humanity is the tesiilfc 
of evolution, and exactly marks the development which 
we have attained above the lower orders of animals. 
Shall we now place ourselves babk on the brute plane* and 
kill things that can do us no harm, and for which we have 
no use? 
In the whole shake tribe, in this country at least, there 
are probably 1,000 that are cjuite harmless to man for 
every one that is a just occasion for man's resentment on 
the score of personal insecurity. 
It is a matter of regret to me that in this part of the 
Country the snakes of every kind are nearly exterminated, 
and you may travel a week's journey without seeing one. 
Most white men, like friend Ransacker, kill all the snakes 
that come in their way, but the negroes especially pursue 
them with superstitious and relentless zeal. I have ele- 
vated brother Ransacker to a high place in my Catalogue 
of most worthy and entertaining contributors to FOREST 
AND Stream, but he should stick to burros and bears and 
such like cattle, and leave the uncongenial shakes to mote 
sympathetic hands. . CoAHOMa, 
Mississippi. 
OUR FEATHERED FOUNDLING; 
AN ambitious fledgeling had flown from the nest before 
its wings were strong enough to be relied upon; it had 
fallen by the sidewalk and a sleek cat was there, swinging 
its soft tail and preparing to spring, while many agitated 
sparrows of mature age hopped to and fro twittering theft 
friendly warnings. But the little adventurer, instead of 
finding itself in the Cat's maw, was carried to a safe place, 
to be brought up "by hand." 
The foundling is how nearly 2 years old, a veritable 
Urchin with a natural objection to anything suggestive of 
order, liking his cage best when it is most untidy. At 3 
o'clock every afternoon he has been allowed the freedom 
of our sitting room, and promptly at that hour he pecks 
at the fastening of the cage door. 
When about 4 months old Dick observed some one 
playing a guitar. Forthwith he perched on the hand that 
was toying with the strings, Btaying there regardless of its 
instability. On the following morning we heard a faint 
noise suggestive of a canary with a sore throat, trying to 
exercise its profession. This was the first attempt of our 
sparrow, who afterward practiced every day, particularly 
if incited by the guitar, developing a sweet voice. At an 
early age Dick manifested energy and persistence, never 
abandoning what he had made up his mind to accom- 
plish. 
During summer Dick's cage stood by an open window 
and soon we learned eleven expressions of sparrow talk i 
with the following meanings: Inviting other sparrows to 
approach; welcoming them; urging them to remain; a i 
great desire; coaxing; surprise; alarm; scolding; anger; 
satisfaction; delight. The eleventh expression Dick \ 
always uttered when a fly was presented to him. 
It was great fun to bring the bird perched on one of I 
our fingers before the looking-glass. He at once became ; 
irritated at the mocfiing image, darted his head forward I 
and pecked at it. IS or did he become convinced that he 
was deluded when his beak came in contact with the glass, ] 
its hardness serving only to exasperate him. 
His actions were and are always expressive. One day j 
he went through the movement of bathing in a lot of dry , 
crumbs, and immediately called for food. His action 
evidently indicated that the crumbs were dry enough for 
a bath, but no longer fit to eat. His caution has always \ 
been excessive, everything being closely scrutinized by i 
him before being tasted. He has always enjoyed re- 
freshing himself in a sand bath, but if the sand was placed 
in an unfamiliar receptacle he hopped round it many 
times, making a careful examination. Before plunging i 
in, Dick removed from the sand any piece of rubbish : 
that might have fallen in, carrying it to some remote ; 
part of the room. His favorite resting place after bathing { 
was a big yellow plush chair. He likes yellow and 
pink, but has a horror of goods that are variously colored, ' 
particularly if spotted. We put newspapers over the i 
plush chair, but the bird worked its way under, seeking , 
the yellow color. Inquisitiveness always overcame Dick's 
timidity, and any object falling to the floor was at once 
examined by him. The moment a closet door was 
opened the bird would stand on the sill, peering into the I 
dark corners, reminding us of a sage trying to penetrate I 
the mystery of the great unknown. 
Dick had a fancy for waltzing, spinning round in an 
amazing style on any small round spot that he could 
find, and altogether indulging in as many antics as a 1 
kitten. 
When our foundling was a year old something hap^ 
pened. The males and females of his tribe flocked about 
his cage within the window to partake of seed, bread, < 
cake, lettuce, etc. Some entered the room, where they 
flew about in a state of wild terror and perplexity. We 
caught several females and put one at a time in the cage 
to see if the companionship would be agreeable. Dick 
fought some and others fought Dick, but at la^t we caught 
a beautiful birdling that did not screech nor bite, and as 
she had persistently tried to force her way into the cage, 
we persuaded her to remain with Dick. He was more 
than pleased, and has now courted her steadily for nearly 
a year. We thought there would be a prospect of his 
winning his suit this spring, and at this very moment we \ 
are interested in watching a one-Bided love affair. 
Loulou is the prettiest and sauciest little sparrow that 11 
ever broke through an egg shell, and is very clever too, 1 
besides being a sweet singer. At the beginning of winter 
both birds were determined to build a nest. Nothing in 
the room was safe from their busy beaks. Dick had a 
wooden box containing a warm nest which had served ; 
him in his infancy. To make him remember this we put 
him in the box; he came out after a few seconds, his beak 9 
full of straw, which he carried to the Loulou. This action j 
he repeated several times, at last bringing two big pieces, J 
that suggested to our mind the ludicrous spectacle of a 
fashionable beau going to visit his lady love carrying a ' 
couple of rafters between his teeth as proof of his power 
to provide a home. 
His protracted and rather dubious suit has somewhat 
saddened Dick, and he is not always playful enough to 
please Loulou. Sometimes she says to him: "You are i 
