Deo. 22, 1894. J 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
6B7 
he'd see I wuz clean beat, then he'd say: "Thar; you'd 
better git back inter yer blankit, I'll tend to th' varmints," 
an' he'd hev brekf ust cooked an' the sapil bait cut up fore 
he'd wake me. 
But graddily I got my nerve, an' neow I'm stouter en 
er bull moose. I wuz thinkin' t'other day I haint hed the 
shield of my sbirt on sence thet blizzard — must have 
forgot it one mornin' an' there warn't time to go back an' 
git it, an' I haint needed it sence. 
The dog says he feels the cold wus in the fore part er 
March 'an he does the rest the hull year. But I tell him 
he runs too fast en sweats so en then lays daown in the 
brook— he 's so dum reckliss. I tell him I'd better fix up 
sum spider- wort en elder en steep it fur him. He said 
t'other day he presaumed likely he'd better take some, en 
guessed he would. 
Dang yer ole hide, why aint ye writ afore? 
'T want a night et passed but what I'd kinder slink 
away frum the store julluk ole Drive does when he's 
flamflusiled inter a traout hole ahead er ye. 
"Why Sile," Mandy ed say, "you needn't take on so — 
like ez not he's been so bizy he haint hed time to write — 
why how you take it. Eny one ed think you'd er lost er 
coupil of caows ter luk et yer caountenince — what's the 
use er worryin' baout it? Like ez not he's rit ye an' it 
haint come." 
"No," sez I, "ef he's rit I'd er hed it 'fore this— United 
States mail don't lie," sez I, an' then I'd git tew thinkin' 
'bout ye 'n feared suthin' happined to ye. Thinks I, ef I 
don't git er letter 'fore I git to ciderin' I'll git my blankit 
an' er snack to eat en go off en find ye, ef the ole man hez 
to travil clean to Otter Medder. En I hedn't more 'n said 
it when daown come Bill Patridge en sez, "Eke sez thars 
a letter fer ye come in to-night's mail." 
"Why how you talk," says I, en I reached fer my tippet 
en drawed on m' boots en started fer Munseys. 
"Fer the land's sake, Silas Praouty, where air you 
a-goin' er nite luk this,'' yelled Mandy. 
"Don't stop mo," sez I. "The ole cuss hez rit. The ole 
cuss hez rit jes' ez I knowed he would, mos' likely he's 
broke his laig, er cuddent git to th' settlemint 'caount th' 
snow er he'd rit 'fore this. Don't stop me," sez I en aout 
I went en tramped it through four foot er snow to Mun- 
seys, en thare lay yer welcome wad ez neat's er piney in 
er leetle box over th' caounter, with th' ole lamp throwin' 
er pinky glow over its side with thet same handwriten I 
knowed ez well's I do them there mount'ins — kinder 
laffin et me en slanted so's I c'u'd jes' read it: 
Uncle Silas Prouty, 
Otterville, 
Hamilton County, 
New York. 
Ike come about er week ago an' wanted we should go 
over to the dance to Hervey Dewey's. Why, you know 
where Dewey's folks live, don't ye? Leetle red house sets 
off the road through the notch 'fore ye git to the sawmill? 
Goll, sez I, I'll go ye, says I. Ef you'll git your team, 
says I, ye may hev my sleigh, en 'twa'n't en haour 'fore 
we wuz hitched up an' peoundin' it fer Dewey's. Mandy, 
she didn't want to go at fust — sed she felt she'd or ter 
clean up a bit, an' she'd ben meanin' to put daown sum 
pork to soak an' get at her quiltin', seem's though she'd 
put it off so long, but I told her, Si, I wuz bound to go 
an' thet I wa'n't goin' to miss thet dance fer no sech 
things ez them, an' Ike, he sed 'twarn't no use er backin' 
out now long ez we wuz hitched up, an' ole Drive, he 
kept boundin' about so when I told him he c'u'd go thet 
'fore she knowed it we hed the ole womern bundled in, 
en wuz p'intin' fer Deweys. 
Wall, sir, we hed some fun, ez the feller sed. Haint 
seen no sech times sence old Israel Lukins kitchin tonk, 
en thet wuz moren twenty years ago. Swan ef thare 
want moren er dozen come out when we got there to help 
onhitch our team, an' thet took most er quart, en et wuz 
one er them awful cold nites, too, with th' moon shinin' 
over Peaked Meountain. No, sir, there warnt no use en 
disguizin' it, ez the feller sed — wot was drinked was 
drinked. 'Twant ez ef et was one er them pizin black 
nites thet er feller didn't hev to go forty foot back in th' 
woodshed fer er hooker. Made er feller feel like ole 
times to see how them coon skins wuz piled up in thet 
leetle back room thet sets off am the kitchin, looked jul- 
luk the inside uv er trappin' shanty. 'Twant er gre't 
while 'fore Ed an' Bill Sanders b'gun to git out their 
rosum en tune up. Net, she come up to me en sed she'd 
show me whar Herve kep' his barril uv cider ef me en 
Ike ed roll her in. So 'twant er minit 'fore we hed thet 
hull barril standin' to one side th' fiddlers. Herve, he see 
it, an' kinder laffed, an' when he see Net an' sum er them 
Skinner gals bringin' out the doughnuts an' the dipper, 
"Goll," he sez, "yew kin go it," sez he — an' we done so. 
Ed, he slung inter the Money Musk, an' 'twant er minit 
'fore we wuz dancin' luk mad. 
Salute yer pardner — an' ladies' chain an' allemand left 
an' allemand right — an' doz er do an' gents in th' middil 
an' grand right an' left— an' swing yer own the last 
chance — an' lady raound gent en' gent raound lady — an' 
take your pardner by the hand. Balance down the middil, 
then swing yer pardner round the waist. Pop — goes — the 
weazilt First coupil for'ard an' back— second coupil lead 
to the right — balance— grand right en left — balence to yer 
corners — grand promenade — right en left all around — an' 
to yure seats. Haw! haw! haw! Wall, sir, et beat all. 
Ike sed it wuz the cider 'et done it, but I mistrusted, en' I 
looked 'crost en see Charlie Munsey chock full, eyes stuck 
out. "Why, I swan ef et haint Mr. Prouty," sez he. 
"How goes it?" sez he.perlite ez Cuffy. "To yure liberty," 
sez he, haulin' a bottle out from his shirt — an' then he 
begun to tell me how him en' Gus Skinner fetched over a 
coupil uv quarts frum the shanty, en' dumped the hull of 
it into the cider. 
Haw! haw! haw! Goll, them are two awful fellers to 
make fun. Comical? Goll, I guess they be. Maybe you 
don't recollect the time they come down to the settlement 
one Sunday mornin'. There wuz one er them black 
beeches that set out 'fore the meetin' house, both on 'em 
full ez minks; Ed, he got er rope en' acted it aout; he wuz 
one er them performin' b'ars, Charlie he'd hold the rope 
an' sing one er them French songs er his'n, an' Ed, he'd 
dim' the tree. Wall, sir, et wuz er comical sight, no use 
talkin'. Thar wuz more'n er dozen ronnd 'em, en' you'd 
orter seen them fellers roll about er-laffin' et them fellers 
perform. Ed, he'd clirn' the tree clean to the top an' 
squeal julluk er b'ar, en then Charlie, he'd yank the rope, 
an' then Ed, he'd climb down ag'in en begin to dance. 
You recclect that yaller house cat of ourn, don't ye? 
Why yas ye do, to! See her when she wuz er kitten, I'll 
warrant ye. Wall, she turned out to be the awfullest 
deer cat you ever see. Never see the beat. All we'd 
'ave to do ef we wantid to git er deer — Brother Bill, he'd 
go down en watch et Moose Pond on Sand Pint, an' I'd 
go up back on thet ole Windfall Mount'in, an' tha,t house 
cat ed foller back er me julluk er hound. Never see 
nuthin et luved tew hunt ez thet critter did. She'd trot 
rite er long till she'd come onto er fresh track, an' then 
you'd see her straightin thet yaller tail er hem up into 
the air, en she'd begin to yaowl, en twant er minit fore 
she'd be er poundin' et straight fer the Pond— Goll, how 
she'd squall. 
Brother Bill wuz er tellin' me baout the time he killed 
that five prong buck last fall. Wall, sir, he said thet 
deer come into the pond kersaouse ez ef thar wuz a fast 
runnin' hound arter it. Wall, sir, he sed he didn't hear 
no dog, en preddy soon he heerd the goll dingdest yowlin' 
t'other side the pond, an' he heerd suthin commiu luk 
lightnin' through the woods, an' out come thet house cat 
rite whar thet buck come in with her back humped en 
her tail biggern er stove pipe, en yowlin' fer all she was 
wuth. Goll, Bill sed 'twas comical to see her walk raound 
thet buck en purr when he wuz dressin' him out. Thar! 
Thars Mandy hollerin' fer me now. We've burnt an 
awful site er wood this winter, take it when the wind's 
about east, an et beats all how thet stove'll eat her up. 
The ole dog sends his respects. He wantid, I should 
ask ye ef ye reelected that doe he druv to ye four year 
ago las' fall. He sez he want three rod behind her an' 
see ye when ye shoot. Sez thet ball struck clean in 
under her. I goll, he sez you made her think thet 
p'tickler secshun wuz inhabtid — sez you'd orter see her 
plough out er thar crost them narrers by that big rock. 
Yures faithful, Sile. 
NEW ORLEANS. 
[From our Staff Correspondent.] 
New Orleans, Dec. 14. — Gentle reader, did you ever 
ponder over the immensity of a land wherein, on one 
side, the rigors of a midwinter climate are in action, and 
on the other are the clear sunshine and balmy warmth of 
summer? Yet such is the land of the American eagle, one 
of whose wings hovers over snow and frost, while the 
other is in roses and sunshine. By reversing his position, 
he can warm or cool his wings at pleasure. 
In early October, about the time of the Huron coursing 
meet, cheerless skies, strong, chilling winds, heavy frosts 
and a leaden landscape, forerunners of approaching win- 
ter, were already unpleasantly in evidence, and heavy 
winter coats were in use. 
A trip to Chicago in early October left the cold weather 
behind but pursuing. A further trip a bit southward and 
much eastward; via that gentle little town, Bicknell, Ind., 
landed the writer in that State of pleasant climate, 
namely, North Carolina, but still the dead leaves on the 
trees, dead vegetation and heavy frosts showed a mild 
imprint of winter forces. After the field trials at New- 
ton, N. O, a flight still further southward to Atlanta, 
thence to Birmingham, brought me into the outskirts of 
summer time. Thence southward to New Orleans was 
the next and last run of the trip, taken over the Queen & 
Crescent. The train ran through a country which was 
most inviting from a hunter's standpoint, a country of 
open field and woodland, with abundance of short cover 
for the birds; but one gets tired even watching good quail 
ground, and when night closed in it brought a feeling of 
relief. Having composed myself for a good night's sleep 
in my compartment of the Mann Boudoir car, with the 
quiet calmness and steadiness which are said to come 
from a clear conscience, but which, I have observed, 
come best from no conscience at all, I heard a buzzing, 
gently buzzing near my chamber door. The buzz drew 
nearer, with its delicately shaded crescendo and diminu- 
endo frightfulness many times repeated. Could it be a 
mosquito in December? Only that and several more. 
When a mosquito catches a fat Northern man, he knows 
a good thing and pushes his bill. 
In the morning I peeped out under the curtains of the 
car window, and beheld the evidences of a semi-tropical 
land — trees laden heavily with Spanish moss, big green 
water oaks and magnolias, strange plants of luxurious 
growth; gardens full of green vegetables growing in safety 
from frost; negro children barefoot and scantily clad, 
and the costumes of their elders were still more neglige 
and ancient; the homes were constructed with a view to 
give the breezes all the liberties, and thereto the doors 
and windows were all open; there were no wood piles in 
sight; in short, everything denoted a land wherein the 
climate was of permanent mildness. 
The morning of my arrival wa° as mellow and clear as 
a northern J une day. As the sun mounted higher, how- 
ever, the temperature became uncomfortably warm. 
The drought has asserted itself in this extremely South- 
ern section, though it came a,t a later period than in the 
Northwest, where the rainless weeks had dried up the 
sloughs, small lakes and streams, and marked the surface 
of the dry land with deep, checkered seams. 
For many weeks here, beginning about the middle of 
last September, the drought has prevailed, with no break 
of importance to lessen its parching effects. Last Sunday 
and Tuesday there was some rain, though not enough to 
do much good. Still, the downpour on Tuesday was 
heavy while it lasted, the gutters being filled to furious 
overflowing, while the air was disturbed with thunder 
crashes and the sky marked by heavy lines of lightning, 
yet I was assured it was but a mere shower. 
In consequence of the drought with the resultant dry 
marshes and low water, duck and snipe shooting is com- 
paratively poor, being far inferior to that of the average 
year. The bayous and smaller lakes are very low, while 
some of the smaller ones are quite dried up. The warm 
weather also keeps the ducks further to the northward. 
With all the disadvantages a great many ducks are killed 
nevertheless. In the French market last Monday there 
were many thousand pair of ducks which represented the 
supply for that day's sales, and they were sold at thirty 
cents per pair, the warm weather forcing quick sales at 
cheap prices. With the sales in the other markets and by 
other dealers, the total sales for each day must be enor- 
mous. 
No one in the North who has not given the subject 
special study, realizes the enormous quantities of game 
killed in the South during the winter months. Hundreds 
of men are employed on a salary to shoot for market by 
business firms in New Orleans. One dealer told me that 
he had bought, at one order, $85(J worth of ammunition 
to distribute among his 150 market-shooters, but owing to 
the unfavorable conditions he had not got much over $50 
in return so far. 
A favorite duck ground is the Bayou des Allemands, 
about forty miles west of the city on the Morgan Rail- 
road. This bayou runs through thousands of acres of 
marsh and connects with lakes which form links in the 
chain to the Gulf of 'Mexico. The numbers of ducks 
shipped from that section is enormous, as it is worked 
constantly both for sport and pleasure. One gentleman, 
whose knowledge and veracity are above question, 
assured me that in past years he has known of upward of 
100 baskets of ducks to be shipped from one point in that 
section, and as each basket averages about 100 ducks, the 
total is almost incredible. 
Another gentleman told me of a big day wherein one 
man shipped as the result of three or four guns' work a 
total of 5,700 ducks. And yet it is said that there is no 
perceptible diminution of the ducks' numbers, nor do 
they forsake the grounds, which is attributed to the re- 
striction to daylight shooting. The ducks are' thus not 
disturbed at night. The test for the day's commence- 
ment at the earliest is when the shooter can read the 
time in the earliest morning by holding his watch about 
24in. from his face. 
But within the last two or three days the weather has 
turned cooler, though the same weather in the North 
would be considered mild and comfortable. From some 
sections the reports are more favorable. 
Mr. A. J. Cardona, Jr., from New Iberia, La., under 
date of Dec. 13, writes me concerning the shooting as 
follows: "Snipe and ducks are in quantities in this sec- 
tion. The outlook for quail is the best yet. Cover is very 
thick and high, and will not permit of good shooting 
until the middle of January." 
Mr. T. Anderson Jackson, Opelousas, La., writes me as 
follows: "The shooting is splendid, or will be a little 
later on, when the cover in the fields is destroyed by 
stock. I was out recently for the first time this season, 
and I was surprised at the great number of partridges. 
In about two hours I found at least a dozen large coveys 
of full grown birds, and I found a good many snipe. I 
only managed to bag ten quail and four snipe. I re- 
turned home for dinner because there was no water for 
the dogs." 
Opelousas is about 160 miles west of this city. 
Dog interests have sadly declined in New Orleans in 
the past few years. At one time, a few years ago, 
there were enough sportsmen who were interested in dogs 
to arrange and manage a field trial successfully, bringing 
into the competition the best dogs that the States could 
produce. 
Mr. J. K. Renaud, at one time an indefatiguable worker 
in field trial interests, I found as busily engaged in adding 
up figures as a Chicago man, yet, unlike most business 
men in the North, he found time for cordial greetings 
and pleasant reminiscence. I was told that his fondness 
for practical sport afield had not diminished. 
That urbane sportsman, Gen, F. F. Myies, whose name 
also is famous in the annals of field trials, and more 
famous in this State as an expert of phenomenal skill 
with rifle and shotgun, has lost much of his interest in 
field trials. 
, Said he, ' I find that field trials entail a great amount 
of personal care and attention, and they are often asso- 
ciated with a great deal of annoyance. The benefit is to 
the trainer. If there is anything won he gets it. When 
there is a loss, that goes to the owner." There is some- 
thing in those remarks which seeais worth pondering 
over. 
Gen. Myles still maintains his large kennel at Lafayette, 
La. , at his shooting-box and preserve. By the way, the 
name shooting-box conveys no idea of the comforts and 
beauties of Gen. Myles's charming retreat. I was 
favored with an opportunity to enjoy the hospitalities of 
Gen. Myles at his shooting-box five or six years ago and 
the pleasant visit is still fresh in memory. I had the 
pleasure, too, of meeting Gen. Myles's brother, who is also 
an ardent sportsman. 
I found that Mr. E. T. Manning, who was also an active 
field trial man some years ago, had lost none of his 
enthusiasm for dog and gun, though he was more indif- 
ferent concerning field trials. He is a perfect encyclo- 
pedia of information in respect to the game and fish 
resources of Louisiana. 
Mr. H. L. Garland has moved from Opelousas to New 
Orleans, where he is now practicing law and promoting 
immigration into the State. About ten years ago he 
devoted most of his time to killing quail and snipe; after- 
ward he studied law and graduated, and is now as deeply 
engrossed in business as he once was with field sport. 
Deer are quite plentiful in some sections, mostly in the 
swamps, and are hounded when hunted. I was told that 
the rifle is seldom used in hunting them. The shotgun is 
the weapon used, the cover being so dense as to render the 
rifle impracticable. 
The black bear is also quite numerous in some sections. 
A dispatch to one of the local papers, from Salmen, La. , 
states that "A large black bear was killed in Honey Island 
Swamp to day by Mr. J. J. Willis, a prominent merchant 
of Pearl River station, La., who reports having seen seve- 
ral. This is the fourth bear killed recently in Honey 
Island Swamp and vicinity. The place is evidently 
thickly settled with these monsters." The "monsters" 
weigh from 150 to 300 pounds, and I always thought it a 
waste of ammunition to shoot at them. It is cheaper and 
quieter to walk calmly up to one, tie a shawl strap around 
him fore and aft, and thus carry him in one hand into 
camp. Placed beside one of the sky-scraping grizzlies of 
the Far West, the black bear of Louisiana is a mere babe. 
Who's afraid of bears! 
Under date of Dec, 12, a local paper has a special from 
Houston, Texas, which with similar happenings goes to 
show that the fool killer is neglecting his business every- 
where. It says: "A prominent merchant of Wharton 
was out hunting deer in company with a negro man 
named Mark Gordon, when a fawn jumped up between 
them. Gordon fired. Hearing a noise, and going in the 
direction, he discovered that he had shot the young man. 
He died in a few minutes." B. Waters. 
But Now She Talks Differently. 
Fort Ransom, N. D,, Dec. 15,— Editor Forest and Stream: Three 
years ago, when I first ordered Forest and Stream, my wife said that 
I was foolish taking such a paper. Now things are changed. If for 
some cause or other I do not get the paper on the regular mail night, 
the first question asked is, "Where is Forest and Stream; has it not 
come to-night? J, p, jr. 
