603 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
lDeC. 26 lb86. 
below, unable to understand the sudden and extraordinary 
change in thd Bituation. It was easily explained: the 
Biron was caught in one of the springle traps that old 
Sieerol had set fur the "'oIvhs themselves. 
H • had but little diiii -ulty in txchanging his pendant 
position for a sitting p isf in a fork of theepriuging iree,Hnd 
thence regarded hia b' ffl^d assailants that still, with 
gleaming eyes, continued to glare at him from below. 
"Aht you cowardly hrutts, if only I could get at youl" 
he gasped, and shook his tist again and again. 
But fortunately for him he could not get at them, and 
as he gradually regained bis breath he also began to cool 
off, and the icy wind of winter, cret ping through the iron 
harness to his very bones, began to t-xp jse him to a new 
source of danger, when suddenly tne wolves, turning 
their heads to the eastward, jumped up and whined. 
Then at length the Baron heard the bells of the horses, 
and a few minutes Idtpr his "carriage" arrived, and with 
a grand discharge of firearms his retainers scattered in 
flight the rest of the wolves. 
The Baron was helped down out of the tree. re- 
ceived with great dignity and ill-concealed siti^^fsction 
the adulatory cungratuUtions of his vassals, utterly ig- 
nored the now diminiahed Kraff, and then, with the 
remains of as many wolves as pjssible, was driven in 
triumph back to his C'lStle, wbtre to the end of his days 
he never tired of relating the heroic exploit of hia "single- 
handed and victorious encounter with over 1,000 wolves " 
From which story, by the way, the uni'nportctnt detail 
relating to Siegrol's epringle vary early disappeared alto- 
gether. 
Note — Strange to tell, old Siegrol recovered; and 
stranger still, the Biron, for reasons which he never an- 
nounced, probably in fulfillment of a vow, set him and 
his family free, and they are now living on a little farm 
of their own near Ejemershof — Suribk. 
ERNtsT Sun ON Thompson. 
A CHRISTMAS WITH OLD PORT. 
It was not a bottle of "crusty Oporto," that celebrated 
promoter of gout, that made this pirticulsr Christmas 
a day to be remembered; but the "Old Port" was none 
other than my dear old friend P irter Tyler, who figures 
as No. IV. of this series; the same old bachelor, market 
gunner and trapper of Greenbush, N Y , whom I had 
left something over five years before to seek sport in the 
West. 
It was the old story: A boy had spurned the pirental 
roof and longed for adventure; had f 'und it and came 
back under the ancestral ph ingles. Many weeks before 
this I had gone the rounds of old friends and shaken 
hands, but I was not in physical shape to engage in our 
usual sports of winter. Ttie freshly turned prairie sod 
with its decaying vegetation had left more than what 
some of the Kansas settlers called "a leetle tech o' ager." 
But one day the mail at West Albany brought the fol- 
lowing: 
^Qreenbush, Dec. 18, 1859 —You, old Jayhatoher: OH Port will serve 
a cooa wi^a ail ihc! iri umlugs oue wnds oui Lo-uigtiC, the sa «e 
being t'hrisctnaa. f^e will get up this dianer \a nonor or your return 
to civilizaiion. A fjw of your nla-tluie trieods will be tbere-not 
maDy. for there is oniy one coon; but wnat ih y l ick in numnerg ihpy 
will msKe up in q lality. V bi Teller has seen tne list and pronounced 
it "a small p^ny, but intensely respectaole." Jim L-tDKiog said, 
"Port has billed the fatted coou. tne calf ha - returned." Don't fail 
to be with us, fur Old Port will not be able to skio a musferat in a 
month if you disappoint him. It isn't often he ge's a coon about 
here, and yesterday ^e broi'ght one in and said: •'Tnis is just the 
thing to get up a dinner for Fred;" s-i never mind your liyer nor your 
ague, but come. Let me Know at once, but don't ref iis»> 
Martin Miller. 
Dr. Jones said that if I wished to shake off the accumu- 
lated malaria of years I must be very careful in the mat- 
ter of diet, and that a roast coon might do a lot of things 
which I can't now recall, but to which I gave respectful 
attention. There is no possible use in employing a doc- 
tor unless you put yourself m his hands and obey his 
orders. Ttiat is merely common sense. Yet I went to 
the dinner. How true it is that "all the good things 
have been said," an 1 that when we read a good book it 
seems as if the author had somehow forestalled our 
thoughts before we got to the point of writing them, 
Honore de Balzic said: "I can resist anything but temp- 
tation." I had often acted on this saying, but could 
never have formulated it. I acted on it in the case of 
this invitation. Away with Dr. J^nes and his hygienic 
treatment of a disordered liver I Wap I to become a slave 
to a disgruntled glano? Ndveil "Easlave a man and 
you destroy his ambi ion, his enterprise, has capacity." 
Climbing the hill which is now Mechanic street, but 
then was Jinown as the road between the woods, the cot- 
tage where that modern Natty Bu npo lived was entered 
and there was waiting G-n. Martin Miller (jvhom I 
wrote up in sketch No Xi.). Siid he: "Port will want 
to know that you are here, and I'll go tell him; I've sent 
down for old BUly Bishop to come up here and help 
serve the dinner, for we want Port to sit down and keep 
down." 
While G'^n, Miller — Mat we called him, for we were 
not too stiff in our intercourse — was gone in came Billy 
Bishop (wno formed sketch N >. II, in July last). The old 
fellow sQook bands and said: "I doa'd like to get this hill 
up by Fred Aiken's ole gp jok hou;.e when der nide coom, 
but by der day he was ail ride." Then in came Tobias 
Teller, a bacnelor of so ne fifty summers and no one 
knew how many hard winters, who lived down on the 
banks of the classic stream which we called the Pop- 
skinny, the spelling of which has been argued in the«e 
pages. He was a delightful old fellow, witn a flivjr of 
cognac and madeira about him that mellowed the atmos- 
phere in his vicinity; he was called Tobi among his inti- 
mates. His worthy nephew (my army comrade), Col. 
David A. Teller, now in Europe, resembles him in many 
respects, especially in being a bachelor. Then came Low 
Daarst^ne, pilot and captain of the railroad ferry; his 
name was Liwrence, but the Albany Dutch shortened 
it to Low; please rhyme this wiin "now, " and not with 
the negative. Tne Irish call the n-»rae Larrence, and 
abbreviate to Larry, and as tne old D itch have gone this 
explanation md,y be necessarv : L rry is Irish and 
Low is Dutch for Lawrence. Tnen came Jim Lansing, 
a man of about lortj-five, who kept a hotel at Clinton 
Heights, but had been a hotel man iu several places. He 
also was from one of the oli Dutch families. 
The dinner came on. There was no printed nor writ- 
ten menu, but, as I remember it, the feed was in this 
order: 
MKNO (FROM MEMORY). 
Soup de snapping turtle. 
Coutlettes de snapper, brsisee. 
PtlSSON. 
Brook pike au naturel. Pommea de terra. 
EKLEVfi. 
Roast coon, entire. M itio: "Whole hog or none." 
Sweet potatoes. 
KNTKfiES. 
Grouse au Pjrt Tyler. 
RNTREMICTS 
Mat Miller's cheese. 
Punch. 
As master of ceremonips Gen. Miller took his share of 
the good things without flinching, and destroyed a goodly 
portion of th^- succult^nt coon and wrecked a grouse so that 
no anatomist could havr- identified the remnants; and when 
the punch came on ha arose and remarked: "There 
doesn'i/seera much to be said after this grand gorge that 
our host has got up m honur of the wayward youth who 
went to the great Wett wiih Excelsior' as his motto, and 
has returnt-d like the B blical hero from herding with 
Sivine to the pUernal mansion, wittiout the motto on the 
linen which ilatiered in the rear, anl looked for all the 
world like a 'letter in the pjst c-ffica.' As he is a 
Shakeppearian scholar, I nan say to you in the words of 
the meiancnoly J q let : B.d him welcome. This is the 
motley-minded gentleman that I have so often met in the 
forest.' Let us pledge, standing: Tne return of the calf — 
I mean thw return of thepn digal." 
Tobi turned his i ff eye la my direction, and Low Dear- 
styhe nu Jged me t • get up. Never had I spoken at a din- 
ner in a formal m inner. Miller's qaocacion from "As 
Yju Like It" suggested another sayins< of Jaqurs's, begin- 
ning, 'I met a tool in the forest," but it was evident that 
it was very inappropriatf ; but, as I got up in a bewildered 
way, I som-how blundered throu^^h some thanka, and 
fiaished by saving: "Sjmewhere between the lids of the 
volume tbat M it q rotes you will find these words, 'I hold 
your dainties cheap, sir, and your welcome dear.'"* 
Old Port's Yarn. 
General Miller then called on Port to rise and tell how 
he came by the coon whicb we had eaten. Tne old man 
would not get up, hut said: 
"Y' see. it was this way. I was off, over beyond, away 
back of Teller's, an' a-makin' toward the hell-hole to 
pick up a few pa'tridges, 'cause Mat and Tobi said they 
wanted to have Fred come over here on Cnristmas. As I 
watched the snow, I see what looked like a funny track. 
Tne snow was soft an' it had been a thawin', an' the sur- 
face was all sp .tted with fallin' leaves and dropping snow; 
but there was a kind o' regularity in thfsa marks that 
made me look closer, an' stz I to myself, Sfz I, that's 
some kind of an animile that's been a-runnin here, an' I 
don't know ivhat it is. It was a long track, as near like 
what a baby could make if it walked through the snow; 
for thtre was a heel to it and it wasn't a bit like the tracks 
of dngB, foxes, cats, minks or other animals that can be 
read on signi; but 1 waa bound to know what the thing 
was. I had no dog, I never hunt with a dog if I can help 
it, and after tracking it a few miles I found the thing in 
a tree and shot it. When it came down, I knew by the 
bushy-ringed tail what it was. It's the only coon tbat I 
ever heard of being killed around Greenbush, and that's 
all there is about it. My father, who lived up in Ver- 
mont, used to tell of a hunter who had no bullet for bis 
Q leen Anne musket, and rammed down a peach-pit on top 
of the powder and shot at a deer, but thought he missed. 
Three years later he saw a commotion in the bushes and 
fired into it, and killed a big buck which had a peach tree 
growing out of his back; and the hunter not only got a 
great lot of venison, but took home three bushels of 
peaches." 
Tobi Teller said: "I rise to a question of privilege. 
This stcry of the daer and the peaches appears in the 
sagas of the Morsemen, and is coeval with the sun 
myths, with the story of the man who cut off the dog's 
tail, ate the meat and gave the dog the bone. It is j ast 
as good, however, as the day it was told by the lamented 
Bi-ron Munchausen, and 1 would be the last man to take 
a shaving cff it. Bat, as every man must contribute his 
mite of unwritten history, I will ask General Martin 
Miller to tell our gu st what has happened in Greenbush 
since he left us to seek fame and fortune in the wild 
West half a dcz^n years ago." 
Mat Miller's Story. 
The Ganeral looked the party over as he arose and 
said: "In tbis quiet village there is little change from 
year to year, anu the only thing which I can recall that 
might interest you is the stealing of Mrs. Parson's geese, 
Yuu all know that this old lady, who lived down on 
Columbia street, raised great numbers of geese and de- 
rived quite a revenue from the sale of feathers and 
dressed birds. A neighbor, on a back street, used to help 
dress these fowle; his name was Gordonier; you all knew 
him, and he ttutiered awfully. When he was drunk he 
didn't stutter, and so we knew just what his spiritual 
condition was. When there was a revival in the church 
there was no penitent louder than old Gordonier, nor one 
so ready to backslide when the revival was over. 
"One morning, when the early birds of Greenbush had 
gathered about the two barrooms which guarded the 
approach to the Albany ferry, for their morning bitters, 
old Gordonier entered. Said he: 'D d-d ye hear the 
n-n-newt?' 
" -No,' said John Pulver, 'what is it?' 
" 'S 8-8-som"b dy s s-stole all Mrs. P-p-parsons'es 
g-g-geese. it co-co-couldn't ha' been me, for 1 was in 
S-d-s-schenectady.' 
"Then he crosstd to the other barroom and the crowd 
followed him, and he told the same story, winding up 
with: 'It c-c-c-couldn't 'a' b-b-been me, for I was in 
S s 8-8chenectady.' Afterward he went down to Ike 
Fryer's bar and the story was retold. John Pearl had 
heard the yarn three times and went off and told Pop 
Huyler. Pop thought a minute and sais: 'Let's go 
'round to old Gjrdonier's house and see if he's got tne 
geese.' Sj they went and knor-ked on the door, and 
when the ole woman opened it Pop said : 'Good morn- 
ing, Mrs. Gjrdonier, we just buugnt a couple o' geese of 
the oie man an' he sent us around here for 'em.' The ole 
* I'he above Is from an old memorandum, but the quotation is 
found ro be frr>m "Tne Comfdy or Err^jrs," Act 111 , Scene 1, and has 
been corrected for the benrfltol those very exact customers who will 
nor, allows ieli.jw to quote from memory and mlsu even a puuctu- 
Htlon point. 
woman hesitated a moment and then said: 'All right; 
just wait here a second and I'll bring 'em to you; we 
didn't raise but a few this year an' I didn't think he'd sell 
any.' She was very deaf and didn't hear the men follow 
her into the house, but she pulled a couple of geese 
from under the bed John Pearl raised the curtain and he 
and P 'p Huyler saw a great pile of go< se, and John re- 
marked that she had a great many. 'Land sakfs,' said 
she, 'you don't call halfadcz n many, do yt? Why, 
they're jest thrown in there on top of a pile o' 'taters an' 
that makes 'em loom up.' 
"They took the two geese up to Mrs. Parsons, who had 
just discovered her loss, and told her where she would 
find the rest of the stolen geese, and then found Gor- 
donier, who by this time had absorbed so many ante- 
breakfast nips that he stuttered very little 
"The old man, long and lank, was leaning against the 
bar as they entered, and said: 'It's too bad, but I danno 
who done it ' 
" 'You're sure you didn't get any of 'em?' asked Pop. 
" 'S irt? H )w c'u'd I when I was in S-s-s-schenectady 
all nighi? Just came in on the train,' 
" 'A I right, but we found the geese under your bed, and 
you'vt- got to go down with U3 to Squire Hogeboom's until 
Mr.s Pj.rfioiis makes a complaint; come alongl' 
"Hd begged and protested, said that some of the boys 
had put the geese under his bed, if there were any geese 
there, and the excitement loosened his stuttering valve, 
which the nips had cemented down, and away they 
went to the Squire'f ; but on reaching the corner he broke 
away and ran to the dock and jumped cff, with a crowd 
at his heels. John S ranahan jumped into a boat and 
fished him out. Mrs. P arsons refused to make a charge, 
but the old fello'v picked and returned to her thirty-nine 
geese. When Pop Huyler met him and asked: 'When 
have you been over to S-s-s Schenectady,' the old man re- 
plied: 'I on'y WW- wish I'd ad-d-died the day I j-j-jumped 
the d-d dock off.' 
"Xhure was a time, not over a dcz 'n years ago, when if 
Bate H lyden's troughs for feeding horses were all found 
on top the little scboi lhouse there was a suspicion that 
our guest had a hand in it, but as he has been absent a 
number of years hp can prove an aUbi, like Old Gordonier, 
and say he was in S s-s-schenectady." 
B.lly Bishop, who had been waiting on the table during 
the dinner and was now streing the punch with frequent 
regularity, remarked: "Dtr ole Gordonier was a ole hico- 
cric, so he was." 
"Now, Billy," said Tobi, "you are a little jealous be- 
cause he got several jobs of hog-kiUing tbat you wanted. 
There are worse men than old Gordonier " 
"Yes," replied Billy, "dere's meny wus as ole Gor- 
donier; dey keep 'em chained, but." 
Tne master of ceremonies looked at Mr. TciUer. 
Tobias Teller's Story. 
"You all knew Bill Fairchild, big-hearted, generous 
Bill, who'd give the shirt off his back to any one who 
needed it. Well, one Sunday morning in May a poor 
clam peddler's horse drew his wagon to the ferry with its 
owner lying flat on the load. It was early, and people 
looked and remarked that the man was drunk and passed 
on. Col. Mike Bryan wanted some clams and amo out 
and selected what he wished and tried to arouse the man, 
and found that he was dead. S ime one happened to 
know him and also knew where he lived, and sent for his 
wife. In about an hour she came over from Albany, and 
about that time Bill dropped down that way. She was 
bemoaning her fate and the fact that no clams had been 
sold. The fact was, the man had intended to reach some 
of the river towns before Monday morning and peddle his 
stock on the homestretch, but had died from some cause, 
and the old horse, finding no controlling hand on the 
lines, had turned around somewhere and started for home 
with his load and his dead master on its top. The crowd 
stood around idly looking at the dead man and the sor- 
rowing woman, who really hadn't money enough to pay 
ferriage for the horse and wagon, when B.U pushed 
through and learned the situation. 
"Tne man had been taken into Charley Bradbury's 
livery stable, and with only a word to the wife Bill 
mounted the wagon and started down street singing that 
old song, but in better voice than it was usually sung: 
'Here's clams, prime clams I have to-day; 
They're fat and fresh from Rockaway ; 
They're good for to roast, they're good for to fry, 
And they're good for to make a clam pot-pie.' 
"The church-going paople locked, and some thought 
Bill must be drunk, lor everybody knew him; but if 
people didn't come out he knocked at the doors and told 
them all about the case, and before noon he was back, all 
sold out. He asked the woman how much the load ought 
to bring, and she said it had cost $6 and at retail prices 
ought to bring $l5. 
" 'Well,' saio Bill, 'I don't know much about selling 
clams, and here'd all I've got for 'em,' and he emptied a 
lot of silver and biHa in her lap and went out. The pile 
counted out nearly $40 and it was suspected that Bdl had 
put in all that was left of his month's salary from the 
railroad. When we asked Bill about it he would curl his 
lip and say : 
" -I'm a good clam peddler an' can get the prices. 
Clams, ma'auu? Johnny, open the lady a nice fat one. 
Fresi? Yps, m'm. See 'em kick. I think they spoiled 
a good clam p>^ idler when ihey made me a bookkeeper, 
Yes, sis, they 're fresb; how man^?' 
" "How do you sell 'em ?' 
" ' Thirty cents a peck.' 
" 'Mother says she'll give twenty-five.' 
" 'Tell your mother to go to heaven. Does she think I 
stole 'en ? Whoal back, Jdktl Here's another customer. 
Yes'm, just up by lightning exprtes from Rockaway; 
caught last nigbt. Ah, see how the j lice runs out of his 
shell, thinking how you'll enj jy him.'" 
"Poor B.ll I When he waw burned to death trying to 
rescue the books from the t ifi ;e of the Boston & Albany 
Riilroad when the station burned at East Aloany, and 
an appeal was made in behalf of his widow, the board 
of dirtctora said, He did no more than his duty.' 
"It is true that corporations have no souis, but BiU 
Fairchild had one, and when 1 think of his sacrifice tor 
the widow or an unknown clam peddler and his heroic. 
sacrifice of his life for a soulless corporation I recognize 
the hero. Gentlemen: To the memory of Bill Fair- 
child 1" 
We had all known the reckless dare-devil, BiU, who in 
