FOREST AND STREAM. 
303 
corded— must not be here. Afterward it was'found that 
thfi bearer ofjthe^great coat carried it upside down, leav- 
ing a trail of? crackers on the ground sufficient to guide 
an army. When the Rabbi recovered from his^ amaze- 
ment, he hastily broke for camj), where he arrived later, 
almost bereft of breath, but demanding food with what 
he had left. 
The Surgeon, who was the director of the hunt, en- 
sconced himself in a favorable position, whence he might 
supervise the drivers, and gather in great stores of veni- 
son. He tried hard— how hard ro one knows yet. He 
heard the dogs madly barking, and the hunters shouting, 
but there was no sharp report of guns, no winding of the 
horns to tell of game found, no appeals for help to pack 
venison to the distant camp. It is not known that be 
slumbered, for he is too young to stifle conscience as 
some of the older ones could, and having conducted the 
expedition to these hunting grounds, he felt bound in 
honor to find and secure game. It was believed, for a 
time, that he was really anxious to do so, but for all he 
found and brought in, he might better have stacked his 
fiew and beautiful gun by some lofty pirje and allowed 
the memory of his numerous flirtations to occupy his 
mind and soothe his anxiety. 
The other hunters dragged their way through the 
tangled underbrush, witii much labor and no success. 
They had managed to lose the drivers and the dogs, but 
they hunted religiously all day. After five hours of 
patient soliloquy, the Skipper gave it up, atld loading up 
with his plunder, returned to camp, finding the Rabbi 
slowly digesting his prey, with which he was engorged, 
from the ampin stores in the provision tent. The others 
came in one by one, tired, but smiling, and jUst as the 
curtain of night enveloped the camp, the darkies arrived 
with eight coons, and i'aces glistening vt ith delight. 
While the male members of the party had thus been 
seeking venison, the ladies had bathed, slept, and cleared 
wings, and'ttvo feet, r four" inches from" bill to the end of 
his^taiF feathers. The Counselor 'was 1 an accomplished 
taxidermist, so his work was before him to prepare the 
splendid bird for preservation, in which he was assisted 
by the Ramrod and an admiring circle of spectators. The 
Architect and the Brother made certain trips to the pond 
near by for ducks, but were unsuccessful, and eventually 
joined the comfort-seeking party in the camp. The 
colored contingent departed early for the. woods with all 
the dogs for more coons, and returned at nightfall full of 
delight at their success, which had been fully commen- 
surate with their desires. 
The genial Rabbi produced his camera and proceeded 
to take many views of the camp and its surroundings. 
The advent of the Counselor with his great eagle excited 
in the ardent soul of the artist a desire to capture the 
mate of this bird, and so he had his old gun laid ready to 
his hand, and Was several times sent charging through 
the bushes by some evil-minded youngsters of the party, 
after soaring buzzards, which looked to the eye very like 
eagles. He did not get a shot, but his genial soul was 
not disappointed, hoping for better luck some other time. 
And so while reclining in various positions on the grass, 
smoking and conversing and telling many talps of in- 
terest, a great roaring noise was heard, and all started up 
to find the grass on fire, and one of the tents in flames. 
In an instant all hands were at work tearing down the 
tent and beating the burning grass and bushes, saving 
everything, with a little scorching and a few slight burns. 
The ladies showed no less bravery than the men, and 
rushed around and chattered so vigorously that some had 
to be forcibly dragged from the burning grass, lest their 
flowing drapery should be ignited, and so much sweet- 
ness dissolve in smoke. As there were many loaded cart- 
ridges in the midst of the flames, all were anxious for fear 
they might explode, but no such thing took place, al- 
though the danger was imminent. Such ardent work re- 
quired refreshment, binding up of wounds, and then we 
let the girls chatter and rehearse the scene in all its 
bearings, but having no phonograph. I cannot give all 
the destruction of language here. It was terrible, and 
when one would suppose that it was all finished, it would 
suddenly break out again with increased virulence and 
fill all the air like the conversation of magpies. They 
are dear, they are lovely, they are charming, but for ex- 
cited conversation they have powers that put the sterner 
sex into the shade. God bless them all, how they can 
talk. 
April 20. 1895, 
The vast woods, the distant murmur of the sea, the syl- 
van .sounds of small life all about, the rhythmic forest 
whisperings, the fragrant air, all conduced to a gentle 
retrospective mood, a loving sympathy with nature which 
exalted the soul, and put all abasement away. He 
mused and the scene, iu front faded from view, and the 
picture unrolled itself of thirty-three years before, less 
than five milps from where lie sat, the maje-tic fleet of 
the Union, led by the gallant "Wabash" came to the bar, 
where all the buoys had been removed. Captain Bou- 
telle, who knew the approach of the great t^ay, as the 
farmer knows his farm, quickly replaced them, and the 
grand ships came up the channel to force an entrance 
where the Stars and Bars held sway. Silently they 
came, serene but terrible. The Skipper saw the whole 
scene brfore him, and he held his breath for the first 
shot, and saw no deer— no deer, but he saw in his mind 
the quick shots from St. Phillip's, the curling smoke, the 
sharp reports, and still the stately "Wabash" coming 
Steadily on, until at last, a little touch of the starboard 
helm, and then it seemed as if the earth opened, and that 
hell was visible. That terrible broadside from the great 
ship, and all the world seemed ablaze. Ha! how the 
Skipper's heart burned within him, and with a long 
quivering sigh, life and sight and peace returned, and 
not a deer anywhere to make the busies rustle. The 
days of terrible civil war were relegated to the past, and 
the balmy scene prevailed. 
The Skipper glanced warily about for any signs of 
game and listened to the distant and harmonious shouts 
of the drivers, and the baying of the dogs. Nothing was 
moving. He smoked and dreamily pondered of other 
scenes. 
A.h! that beautiful widow far away in the North! 
What a pleased smile illumined the Skipper's face as he 
thought of her. How pleasant would it be could she be 
here sitting on another camp stool. How her gentle 
toues would harmonize with the place and the time and 
all surroundings. Ah! Oh! Well, "It might have been," 
perhaps it will be, why not? ,She is nice, thought the 
Skipper. Life is very lonesome— only a few more yeais 
anyhow— she can pay her own mess-bill. Yes, sure, she is 
certainly very nice and agreeable. An! (with a frown) 
those three muscular daughters, they wnuld certainly 
raise the mischief, anyhow. Have to think it over— 
Hardly possible just now— have to wait awhile. Ha! no 
deer, no deer. Oh, well! Marriage way be a failure- 
whiz! squawk! and a lot of Canada geese flying low came 
within easy shot, but the party was out for deer, and no 
gun must speak except for the nobler game. Well, 
thought the Skipper, suppose an innocent little deer 
should come up within shot, would it be a pleasant or 
manlyact to shoot it to death, to see its plaintive e.ves 
gUze in agony, to see'the life blood running over 'its 
glossy hide, to see the tremor of the dplicate limbs? No, 
it would bsan inhuman act in this delightful scenery and 
pleasant air to do such dastardly slaughter, so the Skipper 
Inaned his gun up against a bush and proceeded to eat his 
lunch, and if a deer had come along then I think he 
would have offered it a share. 
The Architect in his iouely lair waited and watched 
and smoked his pipe. The calmness of the air and the 
gentle music of out-of-doors, soothed his spirit, and made 
him feel very peaceful. The tobacco was good, and the 
pipe had a clear draught, and in a contemplative mo< d 
he thought of the time when the great dry clock should 
he completed. He saw, as in a vision, the gathering of 
many people from the country round about to see ti e 
spectacle of a majestic warship floated in from the river. 
He saw the great caisson swung into its place, and landed 
in its seat. He seemed to hear the throbbing of the 
powerful pumps as they threw the water out, and it 
seemed to his architectural brain as if everything worked 
righ t and fitted with exactness, and nothing wpnt wrong, 
and in a peaceful, hazy foreshadowing he saw his hos- 
pitable mansion fillpd with congratulatory friends, who 
figuratively patted him on the back in honor of the 
completion of a great national work. He saw himself 
making a small speech to the assembled people, thanking 
.them for their kindly words— when he awoke to grasp 
his gun at a rustling of the bushes near him, and found 
one of the curs who had deserted the pack, sneakingly 
wagging his tail, and mutely asking if he had seen any 
coons thereabouts. The Architect had been asleep, and 
during his slumbers, no man knoweth how many gentle 
deer of the forest had inspected him with pitying glances 
and had murmured to each other, in the deer language' 
"This old chap is tired, there is no harm in him," and 
had passed softly on, leaving him in peace. 
The. Rabbi was towed to a secure and distant spot, and 
carefully moored in a dock where his scarred hulk rould 
peacefully rest secure. He took his great overcoat with 
him, and had a darkey to carry it for him. The pockets 
were loaded with crackers to sustain his sinking spirits, 
and thus provided, he awaited the coming of the deer 
with considerable fortitude. His mind was occupied with 
the details of docking a ship. Capstans, ropes, cleats 
tools of all kinds, and all the paraphernalia of such work, 
materialized in his thoughts, and seemed to arrange* 
themselves in a tabulated form for ready reference. 
There was scarcely a movement in all the range of his 
vision. Spurs hores and leading-blocks seemed arranged 
in orderly array about him. They radiated from his 
central position to a shadowy circumference, and they 
appeared to take on a slow and wavy motion, soothing 
and alluring. A regular and monotonous sound began to 
make itself heard, gradually increasing in force, and is 
suing from the Rabbinical nostrils. Before iong, a 
sepulchral and awful snorting advertised to everything 
having ears, within two miles, that the venerable man 
slumbered. The deer in all that part must have chuckled 
and remarked "This is a great day fur us. We have 
company, but they are not troublesome." 
How long the good man slumbered is not in evidence, 
but he awoke hungry, and began to make preparations 
for his frugal and unexciting lunch of crackers. He 
drew his great coat to him, and, with an expectant smile, 
plunged his hand into one of the pockets. The smile 
froze almost in its inception. The pocket was empty. 
He hurriedly tried another, it also was empty. He 
searched the ground round about. He wildly gazed into 
the bushes, searched the trees, pinched himself to see if 
this awful situation were real, or only an agonizing 
dream. Sad to relate, it was very true. The language 
used by this good man at this time has not been re 
THE COUNSELOR AND^THE EAGLE. 
up the'oamp until "every Ttent was'a miracle' of 'order and 
Comfort, and with smiling faces and ribbons flying in the 
gentle sea breeze that had come up, they greeted us with 
such a royardinner T tbat 5 the"memory of r it will stay with 
us all forfmany a day. And then, as the'sun went'down, 
the party scattered about the camp, smoking the pipes of 
peace, while the gay smiles and chatter of the fair ones 
made it seem a hunters' paradise indeed. 
The evening grew upon the party, and the gathering 
about the campfire broke up early, for the hunters were 
tired, and sleep and rest were very welcome. At a com- 
paratively early hour quiet prevailed in the camp, for the 
fatigues of the day had brought the usual result, and 
long faithfulness in watching and waiting had knocked 
all the theology out of Fred, and cut his interminable 
allegory short. In the morning of the third day. a 
dreamy content pervaded the camp, and the sleepers 
were slow to rise, except the venerable Rabbi, whose 
cravings smote him early and made him active. The 
Skipper roused himself at a reasonably early hour, and as 
the fair hostesses were slow to appear, took upon himself 
to prepare breakfast, which was ready as soon as all th*> 
campers were assembled. A few sea dishes made a meal 
which was pronounced a success as well as a novelty, as 
the inevitable roast turkey was not in it, and a freedom 
from gobbling was apparent. Over the postprandial pipes 
some few ventured to ask about the route for the day's 
hunting, but the responses were slow and languid, and 
there seemed to be much more disposition to seek shady 
nooks and recline upon the grass*, than to encounter more 
fatigues in pushing through the tangled underbrush in 
search of deer that refused to be found, assisted by in- 
competent cur dogs committed to a coon policy. Con- 
siderable mild flirting supervened , spoony corners were in 
demand, and the dolce far niente of the lovely air 
conquered nearly all the members of the expedition. The 
Counselor indeed took his gun and stole away up the 
beach to a place where a great eagle's nest was visible 
in the top of a giant pine, and shortly returned with a 
magnificent bald-headed king of the feathered tribe, 
measuring over six [ieet from tip to tip of the distended 
All things good and bad come to an end sometime, and 
so this last day in camp closed with a delightful twilight, 
and a gathering about, the camp fire that can never be 
forgotten. As the night fell over the camp, and the 
brilliant stars sprang into ^iew, the fire was replenished 
with great logs, and a fresh northerly wind arose, mak- 
ing the sparks fly and the flames dance about. Wraps 1 
were donned, seats brought into the radius of the fire- 
light, and as the breeze whistled through the pines above 
our heads, and the darkies reclined in the bushes on the 
outer rim of the space, songs, stories, puns, flew aboufc 
the circle with merry laughter and cheerful chorus. The 
scene would not be complete if the wit and songs of the 
merry colored people were not evoked to fill out the 
picture, so honest Fred, with many bashful colored 
smiles, and after much coaxing, raised up his vpice in a 
shrill falsetto, with many funny thrills, and gave us a 
part of his repertoire with great success. I cannot aiive' 
the inimitable style of this colored nightingale, but as- 
sisted by the deep bass of the other brethren, he sang: 
" I pitch my tent on dis camp'groua'. 
No man look likes me: ' 
I come 'cross de riber an' I^mos' gilf drown. 
No man look like me. 
Chorus— King, oh! Kintr, died for me. 
Jesus died for de fus an' de las', 
No man look like me. 
" Paul an' Silas boun' in prison, 
No man look like me, 
'Cause he would tek a t'ing dat was not his'n, " 
No man look like me. 
Chorus— King, oh! King etc. 
" I been to de riber way John baptize. 
No man look like me, 
De riber smood, an' smood'as'a tide," 
No man look like me. 
Chorus— King, ohi King, etc. 
" Ef religion wa' a t'ing dat money could buy. 
No man look like^me. 
De rich would lib, an' de poor would die, 
No man look'lik e me. 
Chorus— King, oh! King, etc. 
" Sinner, mind how you' walk on de'eross, 
No man look like me, 
Your foot don't slip an' your soul git los\ 
No man look like me. 
Chorus — King, oh!]King, etc. 
The impression of this s^ene, with the guileless Fred 
standing in the firelight, holding hard to the back of a 
chair with both hands and his face turned up to the sky, 
while his ample mouth seemed to travel all over his face 
as he chanted, as the deep bass of the other colored 
brethren came from the bushes, chiming with great 
melody, was very vivid. The sincere applause that 
greeted the close of his efforts encouraged and inspired 
Mr. Fred to renewed attempts, which added greatly to 
the charm and vivacity of the occasion. With a lively 
but wierd refrain, he sang: 
" Raccoon tail ring roun' an' roun,' 
Possum tail am bare, 
Rabbit ain't got no tail at all, 
Little bit er bunch er hair. 
" Squirrel am a mighty man, 
Carry a bushy tail; 
Come an' steal my massa's corn. 
Eat him on a rail." 
And so ad infinitem. Breaking into narrative, he re- 
lated how the bear lost his tail, thus: "Bear see Bre'r 
fox eatin' fish, sav whar you git dat fish brer Fox? Bre'r 
Fox he say, 'cotchum.' Bear scy, 'how you cotch um?' 
Bre'r Fox he say, 'go on de ice, put de tail in de hole, 
