July 24 1S97.] 
69 
The Unlucky Umbrella. 
Pawnee, Neb. — It is always with a great deal of pleasure 
that I read Bro. Hough's articles — they always contain a 
fund of useful information aside from the mere pleasure they 
give, and occasionally, as in the article of June 19, "Sheep 
and Snowshoes," they solve problems that vex one. 
The "Kickers," in their annual camp trip, have at times 
met with trials and tribulations unnumbered. Particularly 
in the year 1894 was the hoodoo that haunted the camp most 
persistent, as I wrote about that time. The cause (;f our 
continued ill luck we never were able to determine, though 
George and I have been gunning for it ever since. Now 
comes Bro. Hough with the explanation. It was an um- 
brella. Bow well do I recall the dismay of George and 
mj'^self when Phil arrived at the camp, for under his arm 
was stuck a genuine Sary Gamp, Phil was not much of a 
sportsman, we all knew, and his umbrella caused many a 
laugh at his expense; but had we suspected its power for 
evil, I fancy it would have helped to make our camp-fire, 
and saved us much trouble. Well, it is better late than 
never. We now know where our hams and fishing tackle 
went, and I will not do a thing to that umbrera when I next 
see it. W. R. Hall. 
An Ancient Arm. 
Mr. Olinton Stewart, of Roscoe, N Y,, writes m of a 
highly prized arm in his possession : The gun you refer to is 
in my possession and has never been out of the Stewart 
family, I prizs it very highly, owing to its age and its hav- 
ing been made for my grandfather, who carried it all through 
the Revolutionary War. My grandfather was only eighteen 
years of age when the gun was made, but I cannot state 
positively how old he was at the time of the war. 1 believe, 
however, that the gun is 135 years old, if not more. The 
gun was originally a flint-lock, but has been changed to a 
cap- lock and restocked. It is said that my grandfather shot 
and killed a Tory, who was leading a band of Indians against 
the settlers, at a distance of half a mile. The gun shoots 
well yet, and I have killed many deer and other game with it. 
Clinton Stkwabt. 
The Arkansas Outlook. 
Little Rock. Ark., July 14.— There are good quail 
prospects this year, and also a good crop of acorns for the 
deer. Exmore. 
The "Game Laws in Brief." 
The current edition of tbe Game Laws in Brief (index page dated 
Aug. 1) contains the fish and game laws for 1897, with a few excep- 
tions, as they will continue in force during the year. As about forty 
States and Provinces have amsnded their laws this year, the Brief 
has been practically done over new. Sent postpaid by the Forest 
and Stream Eub. Co on receipt of price, 25 cents. 
Proprietors of fishing resorts will find it profitable to advertise 
them in Forest and Strbam. 
WHERE TO GO. 
One important, useful and considerable part of Che Forest akd 
Steeasi's service to the sportsmen's communiry is the information 
sriven inquirers for sihooting and fishing resorts. We maKe it our 
husiness to know where to send the sportsmen for large or small 
game, or in quest of his favorite flsh, and this knowledge is freely im- 
parted on request. 
On the other hand, we are constantly seeking information of this 
character for the benefit of our patrons, and we invite sportsmen, 
hotel proprietors and others to communicate to us whatever may be 
of advantage to the sportsman tourist. 
MEN I HAVE FISHED WITH. 
L.-Edward Zane Carroll Judson (Ned Buntllne). 
IlALF a century ago few names were more familiar in 
JSTew York and neighboring States than that of Ned Bunt- 
line. Erratic to such a degree that no man could tell what 
Ned would do next; fierce as a tiger; gentle as a woman- 
tilled to the brim with poetry and romance, his hfe was one 
of adventure until mature age toned him down, as it tones 
down all men. After a study of him from personal linowl- 
edge and a mass of correspondence gathered during the past 
sis months, his many sided character and strong personality 
makes him appear a man without a counterpart. 
As a boy I read the weekly journal called Ned Buntline's 
Omi, which was filled with taies of heroism and adventure 
and when the Astor Place Opera House riot occurred in New 
York city on May 10, 1849, my fifteen-year-old mind ap- 
plauded the men who gathered to avenge the insult to the 
world's greatest tragedian, Edwin Forrest. Looking at that 
event now with a mind somewhat more mature, my .sym- 
pathies have gsne to the other side. How much 'difference 
It makes which end of life's telescope we look through i 
How our youthful idols shrink, and how they change in 
appearance! Some men do not seem to have had any idols, 
but 1 had, for I was always a hero worshiper, even after 
reading Carlisle's essay on that subject, and coming to the 
conclusion that the egotistical old writer worshiped only 
one hero and that was himself, and that the chronic 
grumbler believed that the world would have been much 
better made if he had been consulted in the beginning. 
Early in May, 1865, while strolling about the steamboat 
landing at Albany, N. Y., looking for some fisherman who 
had a sturgeon and would sell me the eggs to use as bait for 
striped bass the next day, I saw a man slip on what afterward 
proved to be an orange-peel, and drop into the river He 
was a good swnmmer and got hold of the rudder of a steamer 
and hung there until a boatman brought him where we could 
help him up the dock. He was a short, powerfuUy built 
man of perhaps forty-five, and wore the undress uniform of 
a Union oflicer, with no indication of rank, the blue cord in 
the trousers merely indicating that he belonged to the in- 
fantry arm. I was then home awaiting a discharge order 
and my uniform differed from his only that a red cord aif- 
nified that the wearer was an artilleryman " 
"Comrade," said I, "if you will come with me I caa fur- 
nish you with dry clothing and a place to dry your own " 
"Thanks," he replied, ' I will step on board of this barge 
hang up my outer gai-ments in the sun and wind and dry mv 
underclothing by bodily heat. I'm an old campaigner, my 
boy, and have learned nevcjr to change wet clothing unless I 
take a bath and rub off dry; that's the only way to. avoid 
taking cold." 
I agreed with him in ihis and continued my search for 
sturgeon eggs up the basin to State street, where I secured 
what I wanted for $2. As a historian of more or less truth- 
fulness, I wish to say that in boyhood davs I could have 
bought a boat load of sturgeon eggs for 10 cents. Unless 
some angler wanted them for bait they were thrown over 
with the offal, but the European taste for caviare had begun 
to invade the Eastern Slates, and at that time the eggs of a 
sturgeon brought more money than the fish did. Caviare is 
a luxury; sturgeon meat meiely food. After writing about 
individual tastes last week and quoting de gustibus -non est 
diitputandem, nothing is left for me to say but that my only 
use for sturgeon eergs is as a bait for .^^tfiped ba?s 
I had lost recollection of the wet soldier until I returned 
and found him, an hour later, smoking and drying bis cloth- 
ing on the barge. "How are you getting on?" I hailed. 
"First rate, come aboard— do you know this town well?" 
"Certainly, know it from Alpha to Omaha, from Dan to 
the beer sheebeens; was born and reared about yer, and 
know Albany from the goose pasture to the Patroon's bridge. 
Why ?" 
"Because I am a stranger here and expect to stay a few 
days, and want to know somebody who knows the town. 
Your uniform is sufficient introduction and I hope mine is. 
I will put on my clothes and ask you to go with me to the 
D"'pvan House, where I have a suite of rooms " 
We walked up Broadway to the Delevan— you can't walk 
far in Albany, although you may climb nearly a quarter as 
high as in Lynchburgh, Va., but at State street he turned in 
to the newsroom of Tom Hastings, and, picking up a copy of 
NED BUNTLINB. 
From a photograph by Sarony. 
Ned BuntUne'st Own, said, "Let me present you with a copy 
o f my paper." 
I took the paper, looked at the heading, and asked: "Are 
you Ned BuntUnev" 
"Tom," said my new friend, "introduce me to this gentle- 
man." And so I made the acquaintance of the redoubtable 
Ned. I dined with him at the Delevan that night, enjoyed 
the dinner, and remembered it because Ned enlivened it 
with tales of adventure which he probably evolved as he 
told them, and as probably forgot next day, 
I had asked him to fish next day with George Tweddle 
and myself, without consulting George, and at 8 A. M. we 
met at State street bridge, where our boat and bait was 
ready. Tweddle and I had fished for striped bass with 
sturgeon spawn often in the ante bellum days, but the mode 
was new to Ned. We anchored near the eastern edge of the 
channel, in order to be out of the way of vessels, and Ned 
watched the baiting of the hooks with interest. We used 
hand lines with -J-oz. sinkers; the hook was on a gut snell 
about, a foot long, and placed so as to haog 2ft. above the 
sinker and float away from it down stream. A foot of linen 
thread was tied just above the hook, a mass of spawn 
wrapped around it and then enveloped in a square of mof- 
quito netting, which was wound with the thread to keep it 
in place. 
"Now, Ned," said I, "this river is infested with a minnow 
which is locally called 'epawn-eater,' and it well deserves 
the name. When you throw out your bait a few eggs will 
escape through the netting and these pests will folkjw it to 
the bottom. When you feel the slightest touch, strike. 
Strike with right and left hand alternately as the spawn- 
eaters follow you up, and after half a dozen strikes and no 
more follow, you may conclude that a new bait is needed." 
"Yes," -aid George, "with a gang of spawn-eaters about; 
your hook, a bass or an eel will make a rush for them, but 
on smelling the bait will snatch it bald-headed.; there will be 
no nibbliug." 
"All right," said Ned, "I'll try to " and three or four 
Jerks came on his line and he struck. George and I were 
getting touches and were striking right and left. Ned re- 
sumed: "I had a l)ite. but the flsh has gone away." 
"You didn't strike soon enough, and the spawn-eaters 
have cleaned up your bait," said George. "This way of Ash- 
ing requires as quick a strike as fly-fishing, if not quicker, 
for the bait is so lightly held. If a bass rushes for it, as it 
will if one getj a sniff of the spawn, you can't snatch the 
hook from it, but will at once feel the fight of the fish, 
which cannot be mistaken for the picking of the spawnl 
eaters." 
George and I took several half-pound striped bass, and 
finally Ned took a large eel. About noon Ned took his first 
bass, and remarked that he believed he had "found out how 
to take these fellows in the striped suits," He took several 
after that, among them one which weighed over a pound, 
and was the largest taken by us that day. As we returned 
and gave the man Who kept boats for hire severstl eels and a 
dozen bass, Ned said : "Gentlemen, it is now 4 P. M., and as 
you don't care for the rest of these fish, I will pro^posetosend 
them to .John JMcAi'dle's. where I will ask you to dine with 
me at 8. The party will be rather small with only us three, 
so please invite two of your friends, who will enliven the 
party,' and with McArdleit will make half a dozen. I'll tell 
John to make a spread for six." And he bribed a boy to 
accompany him to Albany's swell cafe and carry the fish 
After he had departed, George said: "There's a personal 
magnetism about that man which explains all that I have 
read of him. When you tuld me that you had asked Ned 
Buntline to fish with us I imagined him as a Bowery tough ; 
but I'll make a mental apology to hira, for I owe him no 
other. Will meet you in the evening." 
Col. John McArdle was a veteran of the Mexican war, and 
so M'as Ned, and they were very chummy, having sei ved in 
the same regiment, or brigade; but McArdle bad lost an arm 
while in command of a regiment under William Walker in 
1856, when he invaded Nicaragua, and McArdle's flqg was 
at half-mast when the news came to Albany that Walker 
had been publicly shot at Trujillo in September, 1869. 
Just what part Ned Buntline took m the Mexican war I 
don't know, but that he was in it, and in tbe Seminole war 
in Florida, Iknow from both Col. .John .McArdle and from 
his brother-in-law. Col. Michael K. Bryan, who commanded 
the Twenty-fifth N. Y. Militia, and was killed at Port Hud- 
son, La., that he served in both wars There are men who 
know that Ned was a romancer, and having no sympathv 
with his mode of thought, are disposed to look upon all his 
published life as a romance. That is not a fair way to view 
a man. His ambitions may differ from yours You may 
care to accumulate money, or to be recognized in a swell set. 
All ambition is egotism, and Ned Buntline's egotism took the 
direction of the heroic, He desired to be a hero, such as he 
had read of, and the ways of commerce had no attractions 
for him. This was also my own ambition in early life, the 
great obstacle seeming to be opportunity. I have spent 
much time and postage in getting at facts in the life of this 
man, and overlaid with fable, as many of the stories of him 
are, his life was truly a romantic one. 
Going up State street 1 met Shirley Campbell, once of 
Campbell's Minstrels, and later the basso of the Caroline 
Eiching's Opera Troupe. "Shirley," said I, "my friend 
Tweddle and I are going to dine with Ned Buntline and John 
McArdle to-night, and we lack two of half a dozen; you 
never was known to go back on a good dinner. Wdl you 
join us? No use to regret a lack of evening dress, there will 
be none there. Have you a friend in town who likes a social 
dinner?" He accepted and hunted up Tom Pendergast, at 
that time the best tenor on the minstrel stage, and we had 
only to mention it and Tom was there. Ned had no idea 
that our friends were professionals, and was surprised at 
Campbell's rendering of several songs. 
Then Ned spoke : "To-day we caught severaf fishes which 
habitually wear a striped suit. I wore one for a year and 
didn't like it. You know why 1 wore it, and under the 
same circumstainces I would risk wearing it again, 1 am 
oroud of the fact that I stood up for American manhood at 
that time, for there was need of men to stand for it." He 
talked long and eloquently of tbe riot in 1849, for which he 
was ifined $250 and suffered a year 's imprisonment, and he 
was a most eloquent speaker. I will not attempt to repeat 
his words, for if I could remember them, 1 cculd never re- 
produce his grand effects of elocution. 
After Ned had ceased, I s.^id: "Our friend Pendergast 
knows a song or two, and I think we can get them out of 
him without resorting to violence," when a clapping of hands 
brought the tenor on his feet. What he sang was new then, 
and had not been sung on the stage. It was that pathetic 
hillad, "Father, dear father, come home with me now," 
sung with such an emphasis and pathos that when he fin- 
ished there were tears in many eyes. McArdle's only hand 
hid his face. Campbell's head was bowed in deep thought, 
Ned jumped up and kissed Pendergast on both cheeks while 
tears streamed down his own, and he afterward declared 
that it was the best temperance song ever written or sung, 
and then he ordered another quart of Heidsieck. 
The riot which has been reterred to, and which Ned was 
punished for, was a great event, occurring only forty-eight 
years ago, but is almost forgotien. It was a quarrel between 
the foremost American tragedian, Edwin Forrest, and the 
English actor, Macready, Forrest had been hisied in Eng- 
land, and the "Native American"' party declared that Mae- 
ready's friends did the hissing, and that the English actor 
must not be allowed to play in New York, In looking up 
this subject I have accumulated enough material for a mag- 
azine article on the riot, but here can only say that at the 
Astor Place Opera House the play was "Macbeth," on 
Thursday, May 10, 1S49, and Macready had been driven 
from the stage on the Monday night previous. Tickets were 
bought and distributed. Ned B'umtUrx^s Own- had called 
on Americans to resist the possession of the opera house by 
crews of British steamships, and so the storm gathered. 
The Seventh Regiment, (Jol. Abram Duryea, after being 
stoned and firing blank cartridges, finally fired with ball. 
Tbe result was that thirty-four of the mob were killed and 
141 members of the Seventh were wounded, including Col. 
Duryea. One man got ten years in prison for this riot.; 
therefore, Ned Buntline could not have been thg head ana 
front of it. . 
Col. James E. Kerrigan, now living in New York city, a 
veteran of the Mexican War and colonel of the Twenty-fifth 
New York Volunteers in our late war, was there when the 
riot began, Of course, he "took no part in it," but he says 
that Ned was arrested while haranguing a crowd in Lafay- 
ette place, and "now," said the veteran, "when you write 
up Ned Buntline 1 want you to say that he w-as a man who 
believed io having Ameri'ca governed by Americans, and at 
the head of his paper he placed George Washington's fa^mous 
saying; 'Put none but Americans on guard,' We needed a 
man like Bunthne then, and we n&d a thousand of them in 
this city to ciay to teach patriotism and Americanism to our 
youth. I tell you, Ntw York city is in America, but not of 
it. Look at the drat t riots of July, 1863, when a foreign 
mob terrorized the city, hung men tw the lamp posts and 
burned a colored orphan asylum; we needed Ned Buntline 
Ihen to arouse the people wnile the Governor of the State 
addressed the mob as 'my friends.' " And the old warrior 
paced the floor with excitement, 
From the ofiice of the Adjutant-General of the State I get 
this record : ' 'Judson, Ed ward Z. C, age thirty-seven years, 
enlisted Sept. 25, 18(32, at Mt. Pleasant, as a private in Co. K, 
Ist N. Y. Mounted Rifles, to serve three yeai^. Promoted 
