126 
FOREST AND STREAM^ 
\ACG. 15, 1896. 
AN IDEAL LOG CAMP. 
BiHCH Island. Hobb Late, Me., Aug. 6. — Editor Forest 
and Stream: I have just completed on this lovely island 
an ideal log camp, at leaet I consider it so, and those who 
have seen it; pay that there is none so handsome in the 
New England States. Be that as it may, it is a superb 
piece of log building, and the situation on this beautiful 
Hobb Lake, with a charming view of wooded islands and 
a range of mountains on the horizon, complete a most 
attractive picture. 
The ground plan of camp is as follows: First floor, two 
rooms, 18x80ft. The front room, w',th open brick fire- 
place, I use as a living room, the rear room I use as a bil- 
liard room. The entrance up stairs is from the billiard 
room. On the second floor are four chambers, 15x10, 
and amply large for two single beds in each, besides the 
other needed furniture. There are two windows on either 
side of the roof, thus giving each chamber two windows. 
A covered piazza in front, 20x8ft., completpg the plan. 
The whole structure is covered vnth hand split cedar 
shingles S^ft. long. The logs were very carefully chosen, 
are straight and uniform in size, and are put together in 
splendid shape. The interstices between the logs are filled 
outside and inside with quarter rounds of basswood in- 
stead of the usual moss, and this helps to heighten the 
clean, white appearance of the beautifully peeled Jogs. 
Planed spruce floors and sheathing of same between the 
rooms, the logs showing in the ceilings. Bear skins are 
spread on the floors, and trophies of the chase are put 
up and about everywhere. Rods and guns are supported 
on brackets made of deer's feet bent to the proper shape. 
I may as well mention a few attractions of this lovely 
region. Deer are exceedingly plentiful. I scarcely ex- 
pect to be believed, but at Turner Pond Oamp (one of the 
outlying camps connected with the sporting preserve of 
Mr. L. P. Kinne, who owns the island) one of the guests 
last week counted forty-one deer on the borders of the 
pond at one time. I myself have frequently seen a dozen 
at once. And a few days since I saw a bull and cow 
moose at Turner Pond and my guide paddled me within 
SOyds. of them (it was in broad daylight), and then didn't 
dare to proceed further, for the moose both came out into 
the pond to meet me, and the guide did not dare to go 
nearer. It Vas my first sight of a moose and I could 
scarcely have wished for a more interesting one. I pad- 
dled up to a group of five bucks and one doe on the same 
pond, all standing within a space of 20ft. square. This 
pond is as noted for trout as de^r, and is one of many 
ponds teeming with good-sized fish. I have been about 
some of the Maine sporting camps, but I have never 
found such a beautiful scenic section coupled with the 
superb hunting and fishing. There is no diflSculty in get- 
ting the legal limit of game in a very short time. 
The first day of October of last year my party stayed at 
the Hobb, Falls Camp, on Moose River, nine miles from 
the main camp, and at night three deer hung in camp 
beside a canoe bottom up covered with partridge, duck 
and small game. Do you wonder I built a camp? 
C. S. Cook. 
A TEST OF THE .30CAL. MILITARY. 
Mendocino County, Cal.— Editor Forest and Stream: 
I have read with much interest the discussion (already 
closed) which the question of A. H. in your issue of June 
II brought forth, viz., the most suitable caliber for large 
game, and I admire very much the masterly manner in 
which A. H. considered and handled the evidence, and 
the conclusion arrived at, .45 90 being my choice. 
But I see by your issue of July 25 (which is just to hand) 
that the .SOcal. U. S. Army or military and sporting rifle 
is brought quite conspicuously to the front, and as I have 
had an opportunity of trying one of these guns for ac- 
curacy and penetration, and thinking the results would be 
interesting to many readers of Foeest and Stream, I sub- 
mit the following report: 
About five weeks since, a dealer in this city who had 
just added one of these guns to his stock said to me: 
"This gun is warranted to me to be accurate for one mile, 
and will shoot through a solid bar of iron lin. in thick- 
ness. Let us try it some day. That is," he continued, 
"with these cartridges loaded with smokeless powder and 
metal-jacketed bullets." This statement did not surprise 
me, for I had often before heard and read similar and 
even greater things about the almighty capabilities of the 
new .30cal. rifln with nitro smokeless powder and steel- 
jacketed ballets with chilled points (with a 6in. twist to 
the rifling), which gave the bullet six turns to the inch. 
A few days afterward I called for the gun. The owner 
then being absent on business, I procured a piece of 
tough iron Sin. long, S^in. wide and lin. in thickness. 
Then with the gun, ten cartridges and a wiping stick I 
went home to my ranch. 
The gun was 80cal,, barrel of nickel steel, 26in. in 
length, made by the Winchester Arms Co., with car- 
tridges made by same company, loaded with SOgrs. 
smokeless powder and a iGO^r. metal -jacketed bullet. 
On'screwing one of the bullets in a vise and pulhng the 
shell off the bullet it would seem that the heavy metal in 
the shell was crimped quite too deep into the jacket 
which incased the bullet, for the jacket parted at the 
crimp and stripped completely off the base end of the 
buUf»t. I thus learned the general make-up of the car- 
tridges and their contents and had nine left to shoot with. 
First shot, at the iron lin. in thickness; distance, 20ft. 
from breech of gun. Result: flying fragmpnts to a dan- 
gerous degree, and an indentation in the iron about the 
siz? and shape of the large end of a quail's egg and less 
than ^in. in depth. 
Next came two shots for accuracy and penetration in 
wood; distance, 40 measured yards from a rest. The 
rest consisted of a seat, support to lean right side against, 
support under each elbow, and gun resting lightly about 
8Ln. from muzz'.e on a soft folded coat. Target consisted 
of pasteboard, properly lined with pencil, and speck in 
center to aim at, tacked on flat side of block, of green 
black oak; I moved the pasteboard a little after first shot. 
Result: first shot struck |in. above ppeck aimed at and 
fin. to right of center perpendicular line. Second shot a 
little lower and closer to center perpendicular line, A 
5-cent nickel just completely covered both the bullet holes 
in the pasteboard. On splitting the block I found first 
bullet, extreme penetration, 4iin.; second bullet, 4jin. 
Next I fired two shots off-hand, distance STSyds. meas- 
ured; target, small building, with half of letter envelope 
about 3iin. square to aim at; fired both shots before ex- 
amining. Results: one bullet 8|in, to right of paper and 
5in. low; second bullet, 5in. to left of paper shot at and 
Sin. low. 
At this time I was accompanied by a friend who has 
been an acknowledged good shot for many years, both 
with gallery and sporting rifle. We then tried to find a 
rabbit to see how clean we could wipe it off the face of 
the earth. but«we failed to find one, so concluded to finish 
our cartridges at a black stump; and on finding a suitable 
place to stand, where the rear sight would be in the shade 
and the front sight in the sun, I stuck a small white 
flower lin. in diameter on the side of the stump and fired 
at that, ninety paces distant, off hand. My first shot hit 
above and l}in. from the edge of the flower. My second 
shot was a little lower and 2in. from flower. The third 
shot, fired by my friend, landed Ifin. high from center 
shot at and to the right. The fourth and last shot was 
fired by my friend, the bullet striking sidewise and 5m. 
high and to the right. This was causSd by the imperfec- 
tion of cartridge, no doubt. 
Omitting the whys and wherefores, I will give as my 
opinion, judging from the very meager trial or test just 
had, that for accuracy at any reasonable distance this gun 
is in the No. 1 first class, and as to penetration it is equal 
to all that can be reasonably expected with so light am- 
munition. 
My friend, on witnessing the performance of this gun 
and also shooting it himself, frequently expressed himself 
as follows: "Why, with the sights that are on my Ballard 
on this gun, either you or I could kill a deer with it at 
500yds." "I believe when I get a little used to this gun, 
with sights like what I have on my Ballard, I could hit 
silver dollars all day at lOOyds." "Next thing I buy big- 
ger than a jack knife will be one of these guns." 
I will further state that the measurements, etc., as given 
above, were taken at the time the shooting was done for 
the purpose of showing the owner of the gun, who has 
since informed me that he had made a mistake in giving 
me the thickness of the iron; the iron should have been 
iin. in thickness. J. M. Robinson. 
TJncle Lisha's Outing. 
Boston, Mass., July 22. — Editor Forest and Stream: 
Allow me to express the hope that the series of charming 
sketches, "Uncle Lisha's Outing," lately concluded in 
your columns, may soon be republished in book form. 
I am sure I voice the wishes of many others of your 
readers equally with my own in this desire, The several 
characters whose haps and mishaps are so graphically 
and interestingly described are to many of us like well- 
loved and long-time friends, whom we meet again with 
sincere pleasure. Personally I have passed many pleas- 
ant hours with "Danvis Folks," in "Uncle Lisha's Shop" 
or in "Sam Lovel's Camps," and I hope soon to place this 
chronicle of their latest deeds on my library shelves, be- 
side the volumes wherein their earlier experiences are de- 
scribed. 
I would like also earnestly to thank Mr. R. E. Robinson 
for the pleasure I have derived from these delightful 
tales. 
During my boyhood's years I lived in a section of coun- 
try where the dialect as spoken by these characters was 
the common language; so that reading it this late day is 
to me like hearing the voices of the past, awakening 
memories that are at once both pleasant and sorrowful. 
With sincere best wishes for the constant and increas- 
ing prosperity of FOREST AND Steeam, and the hope that 
it may continue to be in the future, as it has been in the 
past, the leading sportsman's journal of the country, I 
remain Fbed. F. ROBf. 
Beath of Dr. Bamber. 
Rochester, N. Y., Aug. 8. — Editor Forest and Stream: 
Dr. O. Stewart Bamber, formerly of this city, died on the 
evening of the 6th at his farm at Canastota, N. Y. 
The Doctor was an enthusiastic sportsman, never as 
happy as when following a well-broken dog through the 
partridge or woodcock cover. 
Hfe had for about fifteen years been a regular reader of 
the Forest and Strbam, and had at the time of his 
death the complete files of the paper for about twelve 
years in his office. 
He acted as secretary of the last bench show given in 
this city, and I think Uncle Dick will recall the numer- 
ous trips from Machinery Hill out to the back entrance 
to the fair grounds in a pouring rain and gale of wind, 
with a verv ponr lantern to guide us, mud over our shoes 
and our Uncle's duster hanging about him like a dish 
cloth. 
One of the Doctor's latest contributions to Forest and 
Stream, if I remember correctly, was "Through to 
Twitchell," published some three or four years since. 
He was for several years owner of the beagle Jack 
Rowett, which did some winning down the circuit two 
or three years since. 
He leaves a wife and one child, together with a host 
of warm friends, to mourn his loss. Geo. C. Cross. 
Game Pictures. 
The series of game pictures by Mr. A. B. Frost, pub- 
lished by Charles Scribner's Sons, New York, has been 
enriched by two more recent contributions, the subjects 
being "Autumn Woodcock" and ' Quail Shooting." In 
the latter two pointers apparently have roaded the wary 
birds from dense cover into the open, wliere the climax, 
the rapid flight of the birds to cover, the dogs on point and 
back, and tlie sportsman with gun to shoulder and about 
to fire, make a very Tpleasing scene. Mr. Frost selected 
the surroundings most happily, A rail fence along which 
is a dense growth of bushes with a touch or two of ever- 
green trees, a ravine running through the middle ground, 
and old fields peeping through in the perspective, with 
woods in the background softened by distance, make an 
ideal haunt of the quail. 
" ''Autumn Woodcock" is a very pleasant picture, though 
the subject is a most difficult one to handle, as to show 
the woodcock in his typical haunt would be much like 
pamting a bear in a cave. Yet Mr. Frost has done well. 
Along a glade where woods and open meet, where a brook 
and the shadows keep the soil damp, two setters — the 
one orange and white, the other black and white' — have 
come to point and back, the shooter emerging with his 
gun at ready for the expected rise of the phantom bird. 
The text accompanying the pictures infuses a further 
spirit of the sports of the woods and fields, making 
reminiscent chapters common to the life of all who have 
had the hvmter's enthusiasm and experience. 
MEN I HAVE FISHED WITH. 
VII.— George W. Slmpkins. 
"When vacation time comes," said my mother, "if you 
are a good boy and go to school regularly, don't ruin your 
shoes in the swamps nor tear your clothes in the nut trees, 
you may go and visit with Mr. Simpkins, where you will 
have all the fishing and shooting that you want. He 
writes that he would like you to spend your' vacation 
with him, and perhaps you may see a deer, for they are 
plenty near his place. It all depends, however, on the 
way you behave between now and then." 
"Who is Mr. Simpkins, mother, and where does he 
livt?" 
"He is a farmer who lives up in Warren county on the 
border of the great woods. His farm is on the Schroon 
River, where there are plenty of fish, and the woods are 
full of game of all kinds. He married a distant relative 
of mine whom you never met, but who spent some months 
with us before you can remember." 
Here was a prospect of fun! Fishing and shooting, with 
the chance of seeing a real live deer. There was a stuffed 
buck in the State Geological Hall in Albany, but it ap- 
peared to be ridiculously small to my notion, for I had 
read that "A monstrous buck came crashing through the 
underbrush," while the little animal, a trifle moth-eaten, 
that stood stuffed and looking unhappy, was not as big 
as our brindle cow. 
This was in the spring of 1849 — recalled by one of 
mother's letters now before me — and I would be sixteen 
years old when August came. From a public library 
Cooper's "Deerslayer" was borrowed, and John Atwood 
and I studied it carefully. It was excitingly interesting, 
and we held our breath when the cap was lifted from the 
old pirate Hutter, in his ark, and he was found to be 
scalped when they thought he was only drunk, and the 
whole story of Indian fighting, capture and escape from 
torture, so took possession of" us that the book was finished 
before it occurred to John to say: "It's a mighty good 
story, but I'll be durned if it tells much about killin' deer. 
I thought it was a-goin' to tell a feller how to find 'em, 
an' how to shoot 'em, an' it's all about killin' Ingens. I 
don't want to kill any Ingens — they never hurt me none 
— but I would like to get a crack a deer. You got to have 
a good rifle an' take 'em jes' back of the fore shoulder, 
right in the heart, or they'll run off an' die. You couldn't 
kill a deer! You'd git scared if you saw one. I don't 
believe ole Port Tyler could kill a deer, 'less the deer 
stood still, for they jump lOOft. at a lick, an' lightnin' 'd 
have a hard time to ketch 'em." 
The days were filled with talk of the coming expedition 
into a land where the deer had not only lived, but had 
been seen feeding among the cows; and the nights were 
filled with visions of deer whose horns were as high and 
branching as an oak, and the squirrels were leaping from 
tine to tine, disturbing the partridges which were nesting 
in the antlers. Even dreams have ends to them , whether 
of sport, fame or wealth. The long-looked-for day 
came, and the start was made. At this day all 
is blank until Glens Falls was reached, and whether 
we started from Albany by rail, canal or stage is 
uncertain. The ecstatic pleasure of at last really 
going to this promised land of fish and game obliterated 
all such purely mechanical ideas as the ways to get there. 
But Glens Falls was a place to be looked out for with open 
eyes. Here was the cave in which Hawk- Eye and Uncas 
stood (iff the Mingoesl Here was the precipice from 
which Uncas killed the Mingo who fell from an overhang- 
ing tree, and Uncas was chided by the scout for hitting' 
him some "2in. below" the painted belt line, as memory 
recalls the story. 
Mother went up with me. She was entirely ignorant 
of the history of that terrible night in the cavern when 
the screams of the tortured horaes directed the rescuers 
to the cave, and actually seemed indifferent about visit- 
ing places which to me were not only historic, but 
sacred. 
Here I must pause and look back. At that time the dif- 
ference between history and fiction was not a strictly de- 
fined line. My ideas of such thinjis were crude. To-day, 
forty-seven years later, when one should be able to dis- 
criminate between fact and fancy in what passes for his- 
tory, that line seems as misty as ever. Prescott's "Con- 
quest of Mexico" is grand, but we do not find the evidence 
of an advanced civilization before the conquest of that 
country. The great temples have not a stone left. There 
is not a trace of an aboriginal, intelligent people, while at 
Glens Falls the cave of Uncas is there, in part. The great 
cliff, where the Mmgo was shot by Uncas, is being torn 
down, and a few years ago I was there with a Fish Com- 
missioner who had no poetry in his soul, and who actu- 
ally sugerested cutting away a portion of the celebrated 
cave of Uncas to make a fishwayl 
I have strayed from my text, but let us hope that the 
people of Glens Falls or of the State of New York will 
preserve this cave as all other historic places are preserved, 
for if the cave is not a part of real history it should be 
made so by law. 
We had a rest at Glens Falls and then took stage for 
Caldwell, at the foot of Lake George, and so on to the 
village of Warrensburgh. Perched beside the driver, the 
trip was exhilarating, and the scenes of the French and 
Indian war which he pointed out emerged from the 
mists of imagination and became realities. Two young . 
canal drivers were seated on the boot, with lege dangling, 
amusing themselves with song, and during a lull in the 
talk with the driver or a slackening of speed snatches of 
a quaint melody floated up. It was a song never heard i 
beiore nor since and, like all the old ballads, of intermin- 
able length. Alas! the railway has killed all the country 
ballads and substituted the inane songs of the roof-gar- 
dens and concert halls, to the disgust of the student of 
folk-lore. This song of the canal drivers wa? a quaint 
one, relating to the heroic feats of a Mr, Riley, who had 
lost an eye, and its quaint old chorus of "To ri odalink" 
rings in my ears as I write ; the rest is lost. 
It was evening when Mr. Simpkins met us at the hotel 
in Warrensburgh with his team. He was a stalwart 
farmer whose appearance, from team to person, denoted 
thrift, and his cordial reception soon made us friends. A 
drive of three or four miles northward brought us to his 
farm, a welcome from Mrs. Simpkins and supper. The 
house was at the foot of a mountain, up which ran a 
