March i8, 1899.I 
* )ften on those sapie sunny afternoons a gfoUp of boys on 
fishing or swimming intent, have been halted by a voice 
from aloft— "Don't scare the fish, boys" — and- looking 
up they have beheld Master Parker, gun in ha:nd, on his 
lofty aerie; and a moment later, when his rifle rang out, 
there would be a rush of bare-legged boys into the water, 
each eager to be the first to seize and bear ashore the 
trophy of the master's skill. I think that few school 
teachers have been more beloved by his pupils than was 
Master Parker, notwithstanding his strictness and sever- 
ity in school. Perhaps but a few hours before the boy who 
now bore in triumph the fish to the land, had been severely 
reckoned with by the master for deliquency in the hateful 
and hated weekly review in arithmetic ; but no grudges 
were kept, and the boys rejoiced in the master's good 
kick as much as if it had been their own. 
Along the top of the Alum Bank and the breadth of only 
one field distant, was the turnpike, which crossed the 
distant hills and led to unknown realms beyond. It was a 
wide, smooth, sandy highway, oyer which the gaily 
painted and gilded stage coaches passed and repassed 
every day, the driver, the envy of the small boy, seated 
aloft with his long lines and whip in hand. The passing 
stage coach was a vision of glory. But to what base uses 
we may come! The railroad put an end to both canal 
and turnpike. The last of the old stage coaches that 
I remember to have seen, was in the back yard of one of 
the citizens, its gilding sadly dimmed and its gay colors 
faded, where it did duty as a hen coop. On the highest 
point of the turnpike back of the Alum Bank vyas a toll- 
gate, and a small brick house in which the gatekeeper 
lived. Just opposite the house was a broad field, usually in 
wheat, and rare blackberries grew along the fences. From 
this point eastwardly the view took in a wide scope of cul- 
tivated country — a garden little less fair than that other 
which "stretched her line from Auran eastward to the 
royal towers of great Seleucia." A few rods to the west 
where the descending highway made a bend around the 
shoulder of a bit of woodland, the town came into view 
on the flat by the river side below. 
"Sweet smiling ^^lIage, loveliest of the lawn!:' 
How often of an evening have I stood there when sil- 
ence brooded over the village sleeping in the shadow ol 
Baird's Hill, and contemplated with a full heart the roofs 
and smoking chinineys of my native place. It was a 
scene out of Virgil. 
Here the turnpike crossed the Conemaugh by a wooden 
bridge of a single span, which was once the most wonder- 
ful structure of the kind in the western country, and 
which for a generation was the special pride of . the 
worthy townspeople. The bridge was built in 1821, and 
stood for about sixty years. It was covered and weather- 
boarded, having a small window on each side, which 
served little purpose except to show when you were half- 
way over. It was dark in there, and suggestive of hobgob- 
lins. He was a brave boy that would venture to cross the 
bridge alone after night. The outside of this bridge was 
painted in white and yelloAv, which produced a pleasing 
effect. I record these petty details, because it remains 
one of the most vivid of my youthful impressions. 
But change has been busily at work everywhere. A 
railroad now runs along the foot of the Alum Bank, and 
the despoiling axe has invaded the wooded slope. The 
musical notes of the boatman's horn and the bugle of the 
' stage driver have given way to the screech of the steam 
whistle. The pheasant no longer drums from her log in 
the glade. Master Parker long since fired his last shot 
from his platform in the tree. The turnpike has been de- 
graded to a township road. The wooden bridge has been 
supplanted by a modern one of iron. The wheat field is 
now a thickly populated cit}' of the dead. 
T. J. Chapman. 
A Brother-in-Law of Antoine.— L 
As Uncle Lisha was rasping with his float at a hidden 
peg in the toe of a newly tapped boot, his :unemployed 
eyes staring idly out the window caught sight of two 
approaching figures. They were evidently engaged in 
(earnest conversation, each in turn gesticulating vio- 
lently, while the other listened intently. 
"One of 'em's Ann Twine, but who t'other is, is 
more'n I know," the old shoemaker soliloquized, while 
the float went wide of its mark. "He's one o^ the same 
breed, I know, by the motions on him, talkin' wi' his 
arms as much as he does wi' his mouth. I wonder what 
the critters du in the dark, or haow they make one on 
'em onderstan' when he gits blind. If one on 'em was 
struck dumb he c'd keep on a-talkin' jest the same. 
What a tarnal language, anyway." 
Then giving the boot a final inner thrust and pitching 
it aside, "There, I guess .that won't hurt more'n tu 
make Jozeff pick up his quates lively." 
Antoine now entered with his companion, a man of 
his own build and complexion, but younger and dressed 
completely in Canadian homespun. Uncle Lisha wel- 
comed them with boisterous heartiness. 
"Come in, Ann Twine, come in, and come massy vaw. 
'Who's that you've fetched wi' ye?" 
"Good morny. One' Lisha. Dis was one mah rel- 
lishin', one mah beau frere, wat you call mah, brudder- 
law. Hees name Jule La Roche." 
"Jtile, Jule?" Uncle Lisha repeated. "Why, that's a 
she name, short for Julia. Haow come one vo' yer 
brother-in-laws tu hev it? Was the' so many on 'em 
'at the' wa'n't 'nough men's names tu go 'raound?" 
■ ''O, we gat Jules for the mans an' Julie for delwomans. 
Dat better as for de Yankee had Jesse for bose of it 
sem Ah'll hear sometam;" Antoine retorted and look up 
the broken thread of his discourse. "Mah 'brudder-law 
ant hable for spoke Angleesh, not mos' leetly mite. Ah 
do' know 'f he ever goin' be hable, lak me." 
Antoine continued the introduction in French to his 
brother-in-law, who grinned affably, while he heroically 
endured tjncle Lisha's clamp-like grip. 
"Hope I see you well? Take a cheer an' set daown," 
cried the old man, cordially. "Praw gaddy that three- 
legged one; he tippy ovy toot sweet. Dumb it, Ann 
Twine, he don't onderstan' French no better 'n he does 
English. Give him a cheer 'at won't cast him. So he's- 
r'ally one o' your brother-in-laws, hey? Wal, I've won- 
dered more'n a thaousan'- times 'at some on 'em didn't 
.spill aouten Canerdy oncte in a while, for ii mu=;( he pooty 
nigh runnin' over wi' 'em." 
"Yas, one udder mans come wid if lor woek in hayin' 
can' spik Angleesh no more as he an' he want haire aout. 
bose of it, an' he can' haire auot, so he come gat me for 
haire it aout on some dat big hoi' farmer daown to de 
lake, Udder man on mah haouse wid hees boss an' 
cart. He coozin on Ursule." 
"So you're goin' to intarpret for 'eijij be ye? What 
you goin' tu make out on't.^" 
"Wal, seh, Ah don't know if Ah'll ant haire aout mah- 
se'f, prob'ly, w'en Ah gat dem feller all haire aout. too. 
Oh. One' Liasha, Ah'll naant never see so fool'lak mah 
brudder-law, rfie." 
"S-s-sh, don't talk so right ty his head! You'll hurt 
his feelin's ef you don't mad him," Uncle Lisha whis- 
pered gustily behind a waxy palm. But his anxiety was 
at once relieved, not only by Antoine's assurances, but 
by the grins and nods of , the subject of his remarks, be- 
stowed impartially on both speakers. 
"O, don' you 'fred, One' Lasha. He can" on'stan' 
Angleesh more as geeses, an' dat was niek it so fool for 
come on de State, two of it. bose can' on'stan' Angleesh 
no more as he talk aour language. Wat s'pose prob'ly 
dem two fool goin' do 'f he ant fin' me, hein?" 
Then he explained in French to his brother-in-law, 
"I am telling the .old shoemaker what beautiful mocca- 
sins you make," Whereupon the brother-in-law grinned 
more -complacently and modestly thrust forth a mocca- 
sined foot. 
"Sem tam he so fool, he sma't lak ev'r3't'ing," An- 
toine continued, addressing Uncle Lisha. "He mow 
mos' more as Ah can. He jes' good for all hayin' work, 
pitch load, ev'ryt'ing, an' he could rip an' bine de grain 
so you never see to beat it. He could chawp de hwood 
lak hoi' hurrycane. O, all kan' o' work he can do an' 
TTlK Qt^EBEC HEAD SHOWN AT NKW YORK. 
he fi'le lak forty bobolink singin', so you can' kept you 
foots on de floor. Oh, bah gosh, Ah'll wisht he gat hees 
fi'le so you can heard it play. Bah gosh, he can play 
t'ree four tune all de sem time, yas sehl Oh, One' 
Lasha" (Antoine's face assumed an expression of awed 
solemnity), "de t'ing he do mos' hardes' was faght. 
Yas, seh. He mos' more hugly Ah was." 
"Shaw, Ann Twine; you don't say so," Uncle Lisha 
remarked, looking with amused curiosity at the terrible 
little brother-in-law. 
"Yas, he awfly mans. He leek all de mans all 'raoun' 
where Ire leeve an' wat he ant leek he scare mos' to 
deaf, an' w'en dey an't no more he scare hese'f, too." 
"Scairt hisself? Wal, that is cur'us. Haow come he 
tu?" 
"Wal, seh, dat was de tam he have de wors' faght he 
ever have. It was be awfuls, but it was kan' o' funny, 
an' Ah'll was goin' tol' you dat story. Don't you 'fred, 
'cause he can' on'stan' what Ah'll said, I am now telling 
the old Bostonais what a terrible fighter you are," An- 
toine said in French to his brother-in-law, who thereat 
swelled out his chest to its utmost extent and looked 
exceedingly fierce, as he filled his pipe and savagely 
smote a flint with a curved steel, showering sparks upon 
a bit of punk that served him instead of matches for 
lighting his tobacco Antoine also lighted his pipe, 
though with little chance of keeping it in blast if his story 
should be long, and Uncle Lisha, following his example, 
settled himself to comfortable attention with his elbows 
on his knees. 
"Wal, den," the former began between explosive puffs, 
"Ah'll goin' tol' you. You see, Up dere in Canada, w'en 
mah brudder-law leeve on de beeg river, de peop' gat 
some dey livin' for sol' hwod omstimboat. Oh, dey lot 
of it go on de river, en' it took i lot of hwood for bile 
hees biler. De peop' sol' dey hwood raght 'long for one 
dollar 'n' half for cord, ev'ry year,; ev'ry year 'fore bombye 
one man want for sol' more hwood as somebody, so he 
was tol' de stimboat he'll sol'' it de hwood for one dollar 
'n' quarter an' den dat all de stiinboat goin' give any- 
body. 
"All de peop' was be pooty mad, but he can' he'p he- 
se'f. Den, after 'noder w'ile, dat feller, Jacque Boulan- 
ger hees nem of it, took motion he chawp' hwood more 
cheaper, an' he do it for jes' one dollar, an' den Ah'll 
tol' you, de peop' was mad, an' oh, haow, .mah brudder- 
law he was mad. He say he goin' leek Jacques? 
"Some folks tol' it he can' leek it, 'cause Jacques more 
as two tam bigger as he was. He tol' 'em wait leetly w'ilc, 
dey see some day w'en he'll gat drunk at Jacques Bou- 
langer, den he leek it, he ant care if he big. Wal, it ant 
be long, 'fore mah brudder-law have it some w'iskey 
en esprit, an' he ant mix it very weak, an' he took pooty 
good drink an' lie took it pooty often, an' he'll gat drunk 
at Jacques Boulanger. 
"Naow, you see his Ian' an' Jacques' Ian' stan' close 
apart, jes' leetly brook run 'tween it in bottom of holler. 
Jacques' hwood behin' it one side an' mah brudder-law 
hees hwood on tudder side. 
"Mah brudder-law look over de brook, he'll, see Jacques 
walkin' aout wid hees axe for go chawp an' dat mek him 
some madder so he go aout an' holler some swear at him, 
an' Jacques hear it an' holler back some swear too. 
"Somebody hear bose of it an' de story go, dat Jule 
was gat drunk at Jacques, an' was begin for leek it, an' 
den lot of de folks come for see de faght, but all stan' 
back so not for get hurt, bose side de holler behin' Jule 
an' Jacques, an' dey was 'baout twenty rod one nudder. 
prob'ly. 
"Den mah brudder-law hoUer some more laouder an' 
Jacques holler back more laouder too, an' de echo behin' 
bose of it holler, too, so if dey was ten mans on de hwood. 
Den mah brudder-law trow hees cap an' jomp on it awful 
hugly, an' Jacques, he paoun' hees breas' of it wid heeg 
fis' an' say he big man, more strong anybody. 
"Den mah brudder-law call him dam hoi' hog an' jack 
asses an' bete puante, dal's skunk, an' great many kan o' 
t'ing an' haow easy he can leek it. 
"Den dat Jacques pull off some hees hairs an' say he can 
heat mah brudder-law, an' den mah brudder-law lif 
hesef by hees traowser an' holler, 'Brooo,' an' echo come 
back, 'Brooo,' pooty hugly, Ah tol* you, raght behin' 
Jacques so de peop' begin for be scare some, an' Jacques, 
too. 
"Den mah brudder-law drink big drink off hees bottle 
an' gat more drunker at Jacques, an' more madder at it, 
an' he hopen hees maoUt' for mek de wors' holler he'll 
make yet. Bah gosh he hopen it so wide de folks behin' 
see it comin' raoun' hees head of it an' tink it goin' for 
crack off, an' w'en Jacques see it raght biflore. he t'ink 
prob'ly mah brudder-la\\'^ goin' for swaller it, an' he start 
for run, an' w'en de peop' over dar see dat big Jacques run 
dey t'ink it 'baout tain for go, too. 
"Den mah brudder-law mek so awfly roar you never 
hear. Oh, it shake all de hwood for mile, an' w'en de 
echo come back more laouder an' more of it 'Brrooo, 
brooo, broooo,' mah brudder-law t'ink de dev' an' forty 
loups gareau comin' , aout de hwood at him, so he'll jes' 
turn hesef raght raourt' an' run fas' he can 'cause he ant 
come dar for faght all dat hell t'ing, honly jes' man, he 
gat leek already. 
".Naow de peop' behin' it, see he'll runnin', dey knew it 
was danger for dem an' dey'll ant 'wait for see no 
more, but jes' run so dey never was afore. An' one 
hwoman she faint 'way off so dey mos' can' brought it 
back. So you see it was pooty scary tam. 
"Wal, seh, mah brudder-law ant run great way 'fore 
soon he slip hees foot an' tumble, flop, right in leetly 
hoUer fidl of leaves, an' he ant hear no more nowse, so he 
ant -want for got up. Mebby he can' prob'ly, so he jes' lay 
still an' go sleep all de res' dat day. 
"Dat big Jacques Boulanger, he fall too, w'en he run- 
nin', an' chawp hesef on hees axe so he can' chawp no 
more hwood for tree mont', an' dat broke up de cheap 
chawpin', so de peop' got dollar 'n' half for cord ag'in, 
an" I tol' you dey was t'ink plenty of my brudder-law. 
Ant you t'ink he'll do grea' deal good for jes' leek one man 
so hard, hein? 
"Sartainly," said Uncle Lisha. "Sartainly, and at the 
same time not hurt no one.'' 
"Wal, naow," said Antoine, after getting his neglected 
pipe in full blast, "I'll goin' took mah brudder-law down 
on de village, for show it de Forge. He'll ant never see 
it w'en it goin'. They ant gat it where he live." 
So the two departed, mingling the odor of their rank 
tobacco with the sweet scent of the blooming clover, and 
their gabble with the voices of the rejoicing bobolinks. 
Rowland E. Robinson. 
The Quebec "Elk." 
New York, March 8. — Editor Forest and Stream: The 
supposed elk killed on a tributary of the Metapedia River 
in Bonaventure county, Province of Quebec, turns out, as 
stated in last week's Forest and Stream, to be a caribou. 
Mr. L. Z. Joncas, Chief of the Department of Lands, 
Forests and Game, of the Province, tells me that this ani- 
mal was killed by one Alfred Blair, who wrot^ to 
him, saying that he had killed an elk. Mr. Joncas, know- 
ing, of course, that elk are not found in that section of 
Canada, wrote Blair, telling him to send on the specimen 
to Quebec, and saying that if it proved to be an elk he 
would give him a high price for it. It was a caribou, and 
its head was pointed out to me by Mr, Joncas this week at 
the Madison Square Garden, hanging on the west side of 
the westernmost Quebec cabin, about half-way back from 
the aisle. It must not be confounded with the caribou 
head hanging higher up at the southwest corner of the 
same cabin, which carries remarkably flattened horns. 
The three elk heads from the neighborhood of Lake 
Victoria, P. Q;, naturally attracted my attention. The 
smallest of the three hanging on the east side of the more 
westerly of the two Quebec cabins, has nothing specially 
characteristic about it. But the other two, one of whjch 
hung high up in the space between the two Quebec cabins, 
and the other on the easterly front of the easternmost 
cabin, were remarkable for the stoutness of their antlers 
compared with the length. Moreover, on each of these 
two heads, the antlers do not show nearly so wide in the 
spread, as is common in the average Western elk. Oh 
the other hand, I have seen Western specirriens which did 
not differ markedly in these two respects from the two 
largest Quebec heads. . . 
The color of the head and neck of thp' iafge$£ head, 
which was the one hanging between l;h^ ^v\fQ cabins, ^is^ 
