S02 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[April 17, 1897. 
A LETTER FROM ANTOINE BISSETTE. 
i)ANVis, State Vairmont. — M'mu F&t'is SMmi' Every 
sin' Ah'll was leetly boys Ah'U see so many fashi'n come 
an' go off, w'en Ah'll look naow it seem lak Ah was been 
dream, or was dream naow, Ah do' know. 
FuB w'en Ah'll come on de State w'en de young feller 
was dress up for go see de gal ot ball or Fours July he'll 
wore long tail brass coat with blue button, an' he got col- 
lar mos' lak boss blinder, so he a'n't able for see one side 
or de pder, an' he'll gat traouser strap under hees boot, so 
he jes' smooze lak stofe pipes. 
Naow he mus' wear black coat 'f he goin' see de gal ol* 
dance, jus' sem 'f he goin' fun'ral, an' hees collar tip over j 
prob'ly, 'f he a'n't stan' up leetly way, ah' hees traousers 
gat rimple all way daown, jes 'f he was been squeeze on 
cheese press jes 'fore he put him on. 
An' de gal— oh, bah gosh, he met tne mos' crazy in 
mah head, he alter so fas' and so mooch. Sometam he'll 
had hees skirt lak one-leg trauser so he mos' can' step, but 
short, for show hees hankie was vel-y pooty. Den it big 
'nough for Injin wigwam, wid hoop lak barrels, or prob'ly 
drag on de graoun' lak peacock, so you can' help trod on it, 
and den he be mad lak sixty. Somelam hees dress be 
short on one end, sometam on de oder, so he was mek 
3'ou I'embler w'en j'^ou was bebbee. Sometam hees sleeve 
be lak hees skin, sometam lake balloons, an' sometam he'll 
a'n't gat any. 
W*en Ah'll was yoimg mans, hees buhnit big 'nough for 
jput hees head in, an* he had some posy all raoun' de inside, 
an' Ah'll tol' you hees face look pooty an' modes' way in de 
back en' of it, jes' lak big posy in the middler of lot of leetly 
posy. Naow dey head all aoutside what dey call dey bun- 
nit, so small you mos' can' see it, an' he can' tell if he gat 
it on 'fore he feel of it; an' he gat no posy, only poo' leetly 
bird dat was be grea' deal more pooty for sing on de bush 
as roos' all dead on de gal hees head of it. Bah gosh, dat 
was mos' bad as Injin wearin' leetly chile scalp on hees 
clo'se; dat mah 'pinion. 'F dey a'n't stop it, de live bird 
all goin* aout of fashion prob'ly. 
Dar was fashi'n for heat everyt'ing wid you fork naow, 
an' prob'ly you'll gat for heat pea soup wid it, a'n't it? An 
you'll gat for wap you mout' wid leetly tableclot' 'stead of 
you han'; an' it weeked for pour you tea on you sasser some 
more, an' blow it for cool. 
W'en Ah'll was young mans dey a'n't anybody dat was 
brought up much dat was chaw gum. Naow you see lot of 
dress up folks chaw lak he heatin' tough ol' beef he can' 
Bwaller. You go on de store, an' de clerk wid hair part in 
de middle an' ring on hees finger showin' de calico an' rib- 
bin to pooty gal, all dress up too, and dey bose of it chawin' 
"n'gou n'yum, n'yum, n*yum," lak hoi' caow chaw hees 
cud, so you mos' can' on'stan* him. It more fus' it was for 
chaw tobac, an' a'n't grea' deal more pooty. 
De fashi'n was change in de way folks talk sin' Ah'll 
was I'arn for spik Engleesh, but Ah was stick on to de hoi' 
fashi'n, me. 
Wal, seh, Ah'll see de fashi'n, Ah'll hear de fashi'n, Ah'll 
feel of it, but de curies' was for smell of it. Yas, sah, all 
de peop' dat was dress up naow was preffume hees clo'se so 
he'll smell jes' sem he was been trap moosrat, mans, 
hwomans, all of it. You shook hees ban', you touch hees 
clo'se, it come off on you so you smell jes' de sem. Bah 
gosh! Ah'U call it queer fashi'n for everybody smell jes' de 
sem, a'n't he? 
Wen Ah trap moosrat in de sprim, w'en Ah'll go on de 
store, dey mos' can' bore me, dey holler "Whew!" an' 
squeeze dey nose, Ah'll so preffume, but dey all raght for 
have it on dey hamperchy, an' dey clo'se so t'ick you'll 
a'n't able for draw you breeze. Ah'll a'n't lak dat pooty 
well, 'cause sass for geeses jes' good for ganders, a'n't he? 
Wal, seh, Ah'll goin' tol' you story 'baout dat. 
You see, dey have it Chris'mus ball on Hamner Hotel, 
an' Ah'll took notion Ah'll go, 'cause Ah'll a'n't be'n some- 
where sin' Fours July. Ah know dey won't prob'ly let 
hoi' Frenchmans dance in dat fancy co'pany, but Ah'U 
can heard de music an' heat some suppers jes' sem as some- 
body. 
So Ah bought ticket day 'fore for be sure, an' dat evelin' 
Ah'll put on mah bes' pair clo'se an' start cross lot. As Ah 
go 'long Ah'll come where Ah'll gat trap set for skonk, an' 
Ah'll see he was pull in de hole, an' Ah'U t'ink Ah keel it 
so he a'n't be suffer. So Ah'll gat steek all ready for struck 
it an' begin for pull de chain softie, an' bah gosh! dat feller 
gat more preffume he want for heese'f, an' he give me more 
as Ah want too, raght on mah traouser, an' full up dat lot 
all full, more as twenty nacre. 
You s'pose Ah'll goin' home for leetly t'ing lak dat? No, 
eeh, Ah'll a'n't goin' loss mah ticket on dat ball 'cause mah 
prelTume a'n't sem fashi'n lak dey gat. So Ah'll knock de 
skonk an' go on mah beesnes. 
W'en Ah go on Hamner dey all beegin heatin' dey suppy , 
an' Ah'll walk raght up on de diny room sem 'f he bee- 
long to me. Pooty quick dey use dey nose more as dey 
jaw, den dey all try for be fust for de door an' it a'n't more 
as fav niimite 'fore Ah'll was all 'lone. 'F you ever see 
forty chicken w'en hawk come daown on de barnyard, den 
you see haow de folks scratter. 
Ah'll sit daown to de table w'ere de victual was be t'ick, 
turkey, chicken, r'oysty an' oysty, bose kan of it, tongue 
beef, ham meat, everyt'ing. Dey a'n't nobody for wait on 
me, but Ah'U able for help mahse'f very well, t'ank yon, 
an' Ah'll bet you head somebody a'n't never heat so much 
on Hanmer as Ah'll was. It mek him mad for see one 
mans full up so, Ah tol' you. 
He come hoi' hees nose on de door an' holler; "Git aout 
dat, you hoi' Frenchman, you," an' Ah'll tol' him; "A'n't 
Ah'll got ticket, hein?" 
He'll ax me, Ah'll a'n't gat some beesuess for be so 
preffume. Den Ah'll tol' it, "A'n't every mans gat raghts 
for took hees chouse on hees preffume, a'n't it? You folks 
took hees chouse on moosrat; dat aU raght. Ah'U a'n't say 
not'ing, a'n't Ah? Ah'll a'n't run off, a'n't Ah? Wal, eeh, 
'f Ah'U took mah chouse on skonk an' dey mine for run 
off; dat a'n't mah beesness too, bah gosh. Ah'll a'n't tol' 
it for go, me." 
Den Ah'U took some more turkeys an' put free spoonful 
w'ite sugar on mah coffee. Dey 'fraid for touch hoi' of 
me, for fraid de preffume rub off on it, an'bamby dey come 
for push me wid pole; but Ah'll tol' it Ah'll paid for mah 
suppy, an' 'f dey drove me 'fojre Ah'U heat it, Ah'U sue it 
up to de law. 
So dey let me 'lone some more, stannin' way off wid dey 
nose in dey finger, lookin' at me t'rough de door an' win- 
der, jes' sem you see cat watch dog heat hees breakfus*. 
Bamby, w'en Ah'll had more as Ah'll want, Ah'll gat 
t'rough, an' sot back an' pick mah toof, 'fore Ah'll holler 
to Hamner, de suppy was very nice an' plenty for me, an* 
sem tarn Ah'U willin' for de company heat ^long to me. 
Ah'll was very 'bUged to it for go aout, 'cause de moosrat 
preffume was very disagreeably for me w'en Ah'll heatin'. 
Den Ah'll go, an' long as Ah can hear Ah'll hear it call 
me more as forty deeferent kan of Canuck, 'cep' good one. 
But Ah'll felt so comfort, Ah don' care, me, an' Ah'll go 
'long home w'istlin' jes' lak rooster, an' dat all Ah'll said. 
Your very respectably, 
AnTOINE BlSBETf e. 
SHOOTING IN THE BOHEMIAN 
HIGHLANDS. 
ThB sun is just up* and the dew on the grass sparkles 
like priceless gems. 
Our rendezvous is on the high road^ and at the boun- 
dary of some particular Itetier which the chief forester 
has determined to be the scene of our sport on this occasion. 
One by one carriages roll up, and warlike looking individ- 
uals clad in loose wraps get out, and divesting themselves 
of their covering display shooting costumes of Tyrolean 
Loden, Warm and waterproof. Gun barrels gleam in the 
red sunlight, game bags full of lunch and cartridges, 
flasks full of good red wine, refreshing even when 
warmed by the sun; every gun slung by a strap over the 
shoulder. 
The dogs chase to and fro, eager for the sport to begin. 
Finally the last guest has arrived, and with a little speech 
announcing the game of the day to be the partridge, the 
chief forester gives the signal to advance. 
A dozen hunters deploy to right and left, while between 
them step in the game beaters. The line now advances, 
the dogs working beautifully in front. 
Our course lies over a rolling country, planted largely 
with potatoes and sugar beets, in the shade of which the 
partridge loves to "bathe" in the soft earth. Woe be to 
him not provided with leggings or high boots, for the 
vines will soon wet him above his knees as he plunges 
through them. 
The German ItebJiulm, or partridge, is as large as a 
pigeon, and has only three toes. It cannot perch upon a 
tree or fence, consequently, but is always found upon the 
ground. The young birds have yellow legs, which become 
gray with age, and the cock has a red shield on his breast. 
As the line advances the dogs point from time to time, 
and with guns ready we slowly advance, and as the covey 
"raises" each hunter chooses his bird directly in front of 
him. The game not bagged at once flies forward and is 
flushed again later. 
About 10 o'clock a halt is made and a sandwich and a 
glass of beer are indulged in. It is still too wet to sit down 
— unless a convenient stone can be found. 
Away we go again. The sun grows powerful, and per- 
spiration and gunpowder smoke transform us into a com- 
pany of Moors. 
We have gradually ascended, and now we look down 
over the borders of Bohemia into Saxony, ' 'SacJmn too die 
sckoiie Mddchen wacJmn." Behind us loom the Isergebirge 
and old Jeschken's cone, while ahead of us the restaurant 
on the summit of Oigelsberg beckons alluringly and hints 
of cool beer served by pretty waitresses. 
We wonder if our path to-day will extend within reach 
of its hospitality. 
The fields of oats and rye are not yet reaped, and they 
fairly scorch us as we work our way around them. A few 
weeks later and we will have an open country. However, 
Bohemian grain fields are mere garden spots in point of 
size, and do not interfere much with our march. 
About noon we come to a spot, selected beforehand, 
where in the shade we find a table set with bread and 
butter, cheese, cold game and plenty of beer and wine. 
Cartridges are withdrawn, guns secured, and it is with a 
relish that only follows hard work that we eat our dinner; 
then we rest on the grass, smoke and swap lies, called by 
the polite Austrian "hunters' Latin," and discuss the more 
remarkable features of the day's sport. 
The sun grows less powerful, the atmosphere becomes 
gray; over the tops of the mountains come rolling heavy 
clouds, which tumble down upon us; the air becomes 
chilly; it begins to drizzle, and finally pours. Old Rtibe- 
zahl resents our trespassing upon his domain. Small won- 
der that the superstitious peasant believes implicitly in the 
God of the Mountain when the weather can make such 
sudden changes as this. Quite as suddenly, however, the 
mist rolls away, and old Sol comes out as hot as before, 
while we tramp along with soaked feet. 
About sundown we arrive at some village inn, to which 
our carriages have been sent, and partake of the simple meal 
of roast pork and potatoes with cucumber salad. After the 
meal the Oberjaeger, who sits at the head of the table, takes 
out his little book and notes the number of birds killed by 
each hunter, and much fun arises from the fact that the 
total number of birds actually killed is usually less than the 
number reported shot by the respective Nimrods. This 
is sometimes due to two hunters claiming the same bird, 
but I am afraid that exaggeration sometimes is indulged 
in. The number Of misses is next asked of each hunter, 
and he must pay two kreutzers, or about 1 cent, into a 
fund for the education of foresters' children for each miss. 
'The most successful shot is then proclaimed king by the 
Oberjaeger, and glasses are filled and healths are drunk 
with the fortunate individual, who must try to make a 
more or less witty speech. After this the party is free to 
drive home as they please, though some of the older men 
may sit longer over a friendly game of SMat. 
"The result of such a day's sport will be, in a good season, 
300 to 400 birds. 
A more interesting hunt for an American takes place 
just before Christmas, when the ground is frozen and cov- 
ered with snow. This is the Krei^agt or circle hunt. The 
game is hare. 
A hundred hunters more or less, with as many beaters, 
are on hand; and at the direction of the Oberjaeger the 
Jaegers step out in opposite directions, followed at inter- 
vals by the hunters as designated by the Oberjaeger^ and 
between every pair of guns is a beater. Each Jaeger leads 
his line to form a great semicircle, finally meeting his col- 
league, and thus forms a circle a mile or more in diameter. 
As soon as the Jaegers announce with their horns that the 
circle is completed, the Oberjaeger blows a signal for the 
whole line to advance slowly to the center. Every now 
and then a shot is heard, and a hare is seen to roll over or 
to run across the circle, only to meet the deadly row of 
guns on the opposite side. The circle ;grows smaller and 
the firing more rapid, while the nufiaher of perplexed 
hares scampering from one side to the other increases. 
The Oberjaeger now blows his horn to indicate that the 
circle must no longer be fired into. We still advance, but- 
allow the hares to break through the line, turning and 
shooting them after their escape. 
The circle has now become quite small and seems ahve 
with hares, so the third signal notifies the shooters to stand 
fast while the beaters advance alone. Now comes the ex- 
citing moment, w^hen it seems to rain hares. Only one 
instant; but hares to the right and left break through the 
lines, running for their lives. The guns boom like an en- 
gagement of infantry, and when the smoke clears away the 
ground is strewn with the slain. 
Several hundred hares are the result of such aKreis,a,nd 
these are hung on frames fitted to the backs of some of the 
beaters, who are dispatched home with the booty. 
Enough hares escape always to prevent their extermina- 
tion, and the game is sold to wholesale dealers at from W 
to 50 cents each. Thus the result of such "a day's sport nets 
the proprietor several hundred dollars. 
Another pleasant hunt is that for the roebuck. 
Here, after the usual speech from the Herr Waldbereiter 
wai'ning against shooting a doe, and urging strict compli- 
ance with the directions given as to the line of fire, in 
order not to endanger the life of a comrade, the hunters 
receive their stations, surrounding a piece of forest, and at 
the signal of the forester's horn the beaters start through 
the thicket, hitting the trees with their sticks and making 
a terrible racket. Each hunter is on the qui tive, for any 
moment a buck may dash out, and not to shoot would sub- 
ject him to as much ridicule as to shoot and miss. A shot 
cracks now and then, and he wonders who the fortunate 
hunters are, and comforts hinaself with the reflection that 
he knew in advance he would not get a shot, when a rush, 
a crackling of bushes, and — bang! "By George! he's gone." 
Crestfallen he stands, not daring to move, until the Jaeger's 
horn announces that the Trdb is over. 
Soon the Oberjaeger appears, inquiring who fired, and 
Nimrod admits that he fired and probably missed. A 
dachshund with a Jaeger follows the trail of the animal, 
and in a few minutes shouts announce that the game has 
been found, much to the satisfaction of our crestfallen 
friend. 
A moment later and the Jaeger emerges from the brush 
with the buck on his shoulders. Nimrod then tries to 
conv^'nce everybody that he knew all the time he had 
bagged his game. The Oberjaeger now breaks the tip off 
a branch of pine, and with due formality presents it upon 
his hat, and this trophy the fortunate gunner wearsproudly 
in his hat as evidence of his skill, presenting it to his best 
girl that same evening — if he is not too tired. 
John B. Hawes, M.D. 
THE VALLEY OF PLEASANT REMEM- 
BRANCES. 
Doubtless every lover of the woods and fields has, 
among his recollections of pleasant places, a remembrance 
of some particular spot which has for him a peculiar 
charm, and when his thoughts turn to the woods, and a 
panorama of beautiful scenes flashes across his memory, 
there is always one scene that stands out in unusual clear- 
ness and recurs with per&istent frequency. In time he 
comes to look upon this scene as a type, and whenever he 
thinks of the country it is this particular part of it which, 
in his mind's eye, he sees first; when he longs for a breath 
from the pines or meadows it is the fragrance of this spot 
which imagination brings to his nostrils, so that it finaUy 
becomes symbolic of his ideal country. 
******* 
Hidden away among the grand old hills of Petersham 
and Barre is a valley which might, at this day, well be 
called Peaceful Valley. Many years ago this valley was 
the home of a large family, at whose head was a strong 
man. It probably never occurred to any of his fellow 
townsmen to think of him as a strong man, yet he had so 
impressed upon this valley his personality that even its 
original name was lost sight of, and it came to be known 
by a title which always associated with it this strong man. 
In those days it was known as Pirate Hollow. 
By most people it is now called Swift River Valley, from 
a branch of that river which follows the vaUey's course, 
and a most delightful bit of country it is. There is no 
other place quite like this valley to me, one reason for 
which is very likely the fact that my outings there ha^e 
always been made with friends — not society friends, nor 
even the friends of business, but the objects of that 
stronger, deeper friendship, the friends of the stream and 
cover. 
In our eyes this is a wonderful valley, for we have found 
there that rare attainment— satisfaction. It is a great thing 
for a modest country valley, this satisfying of a human 
being. It is a great thing for a valley, this consciousness 
that men carry away from it only pleasant recollections; 
that they come again, year after year, to wade the cold 
waters of its streams or thread the alders of its covers, 
and go away with little thought of trout or game, but 
with brightened eye and expanded lungs — cheerful, sat- 
isfied. 
For many years we have made our pilgrimages to Swift 
River, The valley always holds out a hope, for there are 
trout in its streams and birds in neighboring covers. 
Years ago both were plentiful and the valley had a certain 
fame; but now little remains of either save the memory of 
what used to be, and the valley is forgotten. But the river 
is so bright, so companionable, and looks so "trouty," that 
it always seems as though we could find a few nice ones if 
the water was right. And the alders and birches are so 
clean, so inviting, that they must hold any number of 
woodcock. If only we could catch a flight. If the signs 
were only right. 
And so we go j'ear after year ostensibly for trout or birds, 
but really to see the dear old valley again; for we have 
fished the streams when weather and water were most 
auspicious, hunted out the hillsides when every cover 
nearer home was holding flight bu-ds, and always with 
just enough of success to save the trip from failure. 
And now we have come to look upon this valley not as 
the valley of trout or birds, nov eyeji the vallej^ of Swift 
