!^J5Pf. 30, 1^99.] 
FOREST AND STHEAM. 
266 
onnection therewith the place is regarded as a very 
acred spot. 
xA.fter the death of Gov, Smith, whose biography is con- 
uined in the epitaph which is given verbatim in the first 
lart of what I have written, a number of other persons of 
lote from time to time occupied the old mansion which 
le had caused to be built, and among such occupants 
^ere Gen. Marion and his brother Samuel. 
Alter Gen. Marion's death Samuel continued to oc- 
upy the house alone, and tradition says that the re- 
laining brother lived from this time on with the implicit 
ielief that the spirit of the dead General, like a guardian 
ngel, continued to hover about the place, and many are 
he stories told as emanating from Mr. Marion himself 
f the midnight visits and communions had between the 
ving man and the spirit of the departed brother. Whether 
ir not these beliefs of Samuel were well founded, or 
/hether they sprung from the hallucinations ot a sus- 
eptible mind, we can of course only conjecture, but it 
5 certain that their effect on his mind and character was 
ery marked. 
Samuel was by a number of years the junior of his 
Tother, and at the time of which I write had hardly 
eached the meridian of life. 
Though Mr. Marion was just the style of man calcu- 
ited to charm and win the affections of the opposite 
ex, and though he had been what is popularly termed a 
idies' man, he had never known from experience the 
weets and bitters of conjugal life. He seems to- have 
leen one of those characters in whose breast will for 
ears smoulder the tires of disappointed love. He seems 
Iso to have been, in his treatment of the fair sex, a. ve^-y 
ensitive man. 
Some years before the time of the chief happenings re- 
orded here, Mr. Marion, the account says, was engaged 
D be married to a woman who was a relative and help- 
rate of a French schoolmaster in the neighborhood, but 
ome unexplained disagreement had brought about an 
strangement between them which had never been healed. 
It is a part of the history of love affairs that reconcilia- 
ions are as often brouhgt about by as strange fatalities 
s have part in the original match making. 
Mr. Marion became suddenly very ill, and having a pre- 
lonition that his earthly existence was nearing its end, 
e sent for his once affianced in order that he might re- 
;nt and ask forgiveness if any was needed or wanting, 
nd to bid her an affectionate farewell. She came 
romptly, and the result was of course a complete recon- 
iliation. 
After the cenes enacted as a consequence of this sud- 
en healing of these long differences, the sanctity of 
fhich I do not feel at liberty to invade, and therefore out 
f deference not only to the memory of the participants, 
ut for the sake of all lovers as well, I draw the curtain, 
Ir. Marion began in a calm manner to tell of his phys- 
:al condition, and expressed the belief that the end was 
ear with him. 
"And now, my dear," he says, "much as I would like 
D remain with you on this earth for awhile at least, fate 
as decreed otherwise. I cannot, though, in my present 
tate of mind, and in the face of the teaching that God 
5 love, and that all creation is filled with His presence, 
lelp believing but that, when my body is returned to 
lother earth, my affections, which are but a part of my 
mmortal nature, will live on and on throughout eternity, 
nd that though we may be dead in the body we are still 
apable of making our affections known to those living 
reatures whom we dearly love. With this belief in my 
nind I want you to make me a promise. I ask of you 
hat on next Easter Day, which is not very far hence, 
etween the hours of 5 and 6 in the afternoon, you go 
Jl alone to the church, and for a little while at least oc- 
upy your accustomed pew, and if it is possible for the 
pirit of the departed to commune with the living I will 
t that time and place make myself known to you." 
The promise was made, and after words of encourage- 
iient for the sick man, and an affectionate farewell, the 
overs parted. 
Mr. Marion died that night. The hour and manner of 
lis death was never known, for the attendant being in 
he early part of the night advised by his patient that all 
?as well, fell asleep, and not until the dawn of morning 
?as it known that the sick man was dead. 
They buried him in the churchyard, and as the mourn- 
rs returned to their homes, only one among the number 
new of, and pondered in her heart, the sleeper's last 
ad request. 
When, after the lapse of only a few weeks, the time 
ame for a compliance with the sad injunction, the lady 
n question was laboring, of course, under a state of great 
xcitement. Timid to a degree uncommon for one even 
»f her sex, and to the wonder and alarm of her friends 
educed to. a state of nervousness beyond which endui-- 
ince does not go very far, when Easter morn came, faith- 
iil to her vow, she watched the old clock in the corner, 
nd when it began to chime 5 she ventured all alone out 
ito the yard, then into the road, and as the sequel will 
how, a little distance on, to the old Goose Creek Church. 
What transpired in that old church that afternoon will, 
suppose, never be known till all secrets are revealed. 
Vhether or not Mr. Marion came in his spirit form and 
ommuned with his once beloved, or Mdiether she reai- 
led his presence, has never been told; but when, after a 
liligent search, she was found about 9 o'clock that even- 
ng in her accustomed pew at the old church, stone dead, 
le sorrow of the occasion was largely merged in the 
k'onder over the incident. 
A well prepared note found in the ladj's room, as if 
he had been anticipating what happened, told the story 
n full, and when the contents of this became generally 
:nown the wonder grew and has been growing from 
hat day to this without any further or better solution. 
Neighbors gathered to perform the last sad rites, and 
vhile dressing the body for burial they found tatooed 'in 
tne arm the word "Ney." She was buried beside the one 
or whose wish she seemed to have voluntarily sacrificed 
ler Hfe, and the note in question was buried with her. 
t seemed to be the desire of the schoolmaster, her onb^ 
mown relative, that everj' trace and recollection of the 
iflFair should be blotted out of existence. 
The French schoolmaster, bein^ left alone in the world, 
nigrated to other regions, and it is said finall}'' located 
n Cumberland county, North Carolina, where for a num- 
)er of years and up to the time of his death he continued 
lis occupation as an educator, and where the people con- 
fidently believed, and do to this day believe, though he 
was known by another name, that he was the original 
and only Marshal Ney. 
An Episcopal clergyman in North Carolma has lately 
written and caused to be published a book concerning 
this man in which it is proved to the satisfaction of the 
author, at least, that this character was Michel Ney, the 
celebiated French marshal. 
A further account of our hunt and what we learned of 
the early history of the country we were visiting may be 
the subject of another letter. 
William Whitsos. 
A Story of a Stutzeri. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
Having read with much interest and .sympathy the 
reminiscences of an Old Sportsman, later of W. W. 
Hastings, and others who write so true from life, with- 
out much nonsensical poetry thrown in, I am led into 
temptation of giving the readers of Forest and Stream 
a few of my own happenings of life across the ocean, and 
if this should not turn out as it ought to be regarding 
style and the manner of giving things in such a way, so 
as to be interesting to a majority of the readers, I beg 
pardon in advance, as I am only an adopted citizen. 
In Atistria a short gun, say about 26in. barrel, is called 
a stutzen; why I don't know myself. Father's old and 
new guns were sold. Among others there was the 
stutzen, which was not sold, as I loved the old gun 
dearly and had hid it away up in the garret, where even 
my older brother, in spite of the most careful ransacking 
among old boxes and spinning wheels and other old 
things, could not find it, and so it was given up as 
stolen or lost. I was trying to save a nice black setter 
puppy by taking it away to a farmer's boy friend, but 
the pup iound its way home, and all tny pleading did not 
prevent its being sold. I believe I actually cried a little 
over that pup. 
Father had been forester to an estate belonging to 
Count W., and all this happened after he was dead and 
gone about four weeks. I was about fifteen years of age 
then, and having received many a valuable hint when 
roaming over the fields with him regarding tlie proper 
education of a bird dog I felt pretty confident and was 
determined to buy another pup as soon as the necessary 
cash was saved up, and to train him myself; but quite a 
few years elapsed before I could accomplish the buying, 
for good dogs were even higher in price than they are 
now. But I was going to tel! vou aDout the gun. 
I had shot quite a few .'^parnAVS and starlings — the 
latter especisdly — about cherry time, tor these birds are 
more fond of cnenit-, iijan any omer bird in the coun- 
try, and could be Siiot those days in orcitr to protect the 
fruit grower from their depredations'. JBtit my ambition 
was to kill a rebhultn (not unlikf our prairie chickens). 
These birds abound in Aust]-ia in clox'er. potatoes, rye and 
wheat fields. When liushed in iront of the dog the old 
cock issues a warning cry. sounding like Ki-ri! Ki-ri ! 
They are very swift of wing, but lie well to a dog, and 
are fine birds for the table. Having been compelled to 
go to school most of the time when father was out with 
the Herren from the city, 1 would not have been allowed 
to accompany them, as they would have only made a 
game carrier out of me. Some of these fellows were even 
too lazj' to cock their own gun, and although thcj' paid 
liberally for such services, I myself could never have a 
chance to shoot, being considered as a sort of inferior 
being by tliem, and perhaps by my own father — ^for the 
boys across the ocean are brought up very strictly itt 
comparison with boys in this country. 
But my opportunity came a few weeks before Christ- 
mas, when i stole out one foggj' afternoon, the stutzen 
hanging on a strap over my right shoulder, the powder 
horn and shot pouch on the left. About gun- 
shot distance, behind the house, was a brook running 
its course down toward the meadows, and following 
down stream I was soon in open country. About 300yds. 
to the right of the brook the ground rose, gently sloping 
toward a hill, on which was built one of those hut-like 
shelters for birds, erected every year in early winter, com- 
posed of limbs of the oak about 6ft. long and leaned to- 
gether on a pole of about the same length, which is 
■ driven into the ground. The pole is set in the center 
and the limbs with leaves on leaning around it form 
a tent-like shelter, which is fastened on top and bottom 
with wire or strong cord in a hoop. This gives an 
excellent protection for the birds, as there are plenty of 
apertures at the bottom to let them in and out. The 
covering can be made so dense that the finest snow will 
not find its waj'^ through the branches, and in stormy 
and uncertain Aveather one was sitre to find a covey (or 
kette) in or around it. Here I peeped. My expedition 
was a poaching trip pure and simple; and I was afraid 
of being arrested by a game warden, for I had neither 
gun nor hunting license. Sitting down and leaning 
against the hitt, I was waiting for twilight, and as soon 
as I thought it was dark enough tor me to see, and also 
not to be seen, I poured powder enough to be 
a good load on the palm of my left hand, and letting it 
slide down the one and then the other barrel, I put 
tow on top, and rammed it home with the ramrod until 
the rod would jump about half way out of the barrel, 
which my father used to say was a good sign of proper 
loading. Then I did the same with the shot. There was 
just a trifle of snow on the ground, and seeing no bird 
tracks I proceeded to tramp slowly along in a direction 
away from town. I was now all expectation and excite- 
ment, and hugged my little gun in a businesslike waj'- 
with left hand on the fore-end and right on the trigger. 
Suddenly I was startled by the well-knOwn cry of the 
old cock- — Ki-ri ! Ki-ri — and up rushed eight or nine 
black shadows following the cock, which was some- 
what in advance. The gun was at my shoulder on the 
instant. I do not remember whether I closed one eye 
or shot with both open, or both closed, as some fellows 
say they do ; but at the double crack of the old gun two 
of the shadows were on the ground. 
I felt like giving a yell, but suppressed myself in time, 
thinking about the gamekeepers, who I was sure must 
have heard the shots and wpuld come rushing forward. 
T seized my prej', and running down toward the brook 
and being once among the willow shrubbery I first pro- 
ceeded to examine the much-prized birds more closely, 
and at that moment I was as proud as I had been at the 
time I got my first high boots, and as happy as a king, 
for a king is said to be happier than other people. 
After all the excitement and joy had settled down a little 
T was thinking how to solve the problem of what to do 
with the birds, for under no consideration could I have 
brought this poached game home to mother; it would 
have brokoi her heart to think me gitilty of sucli a 
thing — poaching, an act which the father in his position 
as forester had spent his lifetime to prevent, and the son 
had committed. Never! But a happy thought struck 
me. There is my old nurse at the other end of the 
town; she will and must have them. Besides, I can 
tell her these are a couple of chickens presented to me by 
a boy friend of mine, etc, and even if she guesses the 
truth, she will not betray me. But what of the gun? 
1 could not carry the old sttitzen so far through the town 
without being seen, A hollow tree! That was the 
thing; and looking around for one I put her down into 
it, but in my thoughtlessness muzzle up, and what be- 
came of that gun will be related iti some other chapter. 
Now, putting a string on each bird's head, and taking 
off the old overcoat, I put the cord over my neck and 
let the birds dangle down on each side of the hips, and 
put the coat on again, hiding the birds completely. 
Arrived at the old lady's little straw-thatched house, I 
presented the birds to her as common chickens. Good 
old soul; she found out quickly enough after I had left, 
but never did anybody hear a word from her about it; and 
whether she ate them as game or as barnyard fowl, does 
not matter. I only know that next to my mother, she 
was the best old being I have known up to the present 
time. Sine had known the whereabouts of the old stutzen 
all the time, and had kept the secret. How many women 
are there that could immitate her? C. F. B, 
Danbury, Conn. 
The Railroad a Coming Influence. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
It seems altogether appropriate that the railroads should 
interest themselves in game protection and propagation. 
Never before were their interests as public carriers so 
nearly identical with those of sportsmen. 
Two seemingly diametrically opposed conditions exist 
for the railroads; they are steadily at work blazing new 
paths along which settlement may be made; driving new 
lines through forests, across plains and over mountain 
ranges. This is good business, for it opens up, develops, 
makes productive contiguous territory, thus increasing 
both freight and passenger traffic, and swelling the 
revenues. But they are equally industrious in seeking to 
enlarge their excursion and tourist business. 
At first sight there may seem to be no incongruity m 
this, but a little thought reveals a different aspect. It is 
discovered that the railroads are rapidly encroaching tlpoit 
nearly all sections that have thus far been considered 
difficult of access, thus opening them to frequent invasion 
by civilized man, who is, unrestrained, the most destruc- 
tive creature afoot, especially of the natural, primitive or 
virgin conditions that have hitherto existed, and on which 
the railroads have so largely relied, in the past, to attract 
alike excursionist and tourist; those two moving por- 
tions of the pody politic, the one bent on quickly reaching 
and as quickly returning from a given point, the other bent 
on a more or less leisurely survey or exploration of a 
more or less extensive series of localities. 
Not for a moment can the railroads be blamed for the 
damage wrought by their excursions. The censure rests 
wholly upon the blind stupidity that has permitted the 
individual to thus destroy. But it is reasonable to ques- 
tion whether such destruction of existing attractive con- 
ditions can continue without great detriment to passenger 
traffic; to question the congruity of thus building to walls 
tha_t rest on a crumbling foundation. 
Can the one thrive while the other wanes; or will the 
one cease as the other is destroyed, even as effect ceases 
upon the disappearance of cause? For travel abroad may 
be largely ascribed to the inducement latent in the purely 
virgin or markedly unique and foreign outside the little 
world that is the work-a-day matrix of the individual. 
Travel is either by inducement or compulsion, for pleas- 
ure or business,^ and the former is, per capita per mile, 
vastly more profitable to public carriers than the latter, and 
if they can be made to see that increased attractiveness 
is always followed by a sharp , increase' of attention— 
that the converse is equally true and that both axioms 
apply forcibly to railroads— there is little doubt that they 
w^ill interest themselves in working for increased attrac- 
tiveness. 
Is development, then, acting without restraint along 
present lines, diametrically opposed to increase traffic 
business? Does travel for pleasure increase or diminish 
with each added mile of railway constructed? That is 
the questions the railways are even now beginning to 
ask themselves; it is a business point of view. If pas- 
senger traffic may be increased with reasonable effort 
by increasing attractiveness, it seems pretty certain that 
efforts will soon be bent in that directiou- 
And here it is well to explain that travel is, in this 
instance,_ used in a restricted sense, embracing onlv those 
jaunts of a few days, a week or two, a month perhaps, that 
the middle classes feel able to occasionally allow them- 
selves; not to the contiiient-touring, globe-trotting and the 
like, so frequently indulged in by the wealthy, but which 
fall so infrequently, like bright shining days, into the 
lives of the less fortunate. 
What, then, will draw the workers, the majority, out if 
alluring districts are to have their chief feature of at- 
tractiveness, their virginity, destroj^ed bv this extension 
of commerce? Clearly there will be less and less induce- 
ment to travel, consequently less travel, unless a com- 
promise be struck whereby development is restrained 
from thus destroying or artificial features of equal at- 
tractiveness be promulgated. What the nature of such a 
compromise may be; what that of these possible artificial 
magnets; what the railroads have, or have not, done to 
advance either; and by which they are likely to profit 
most — which prove the more attractive— these are pertf'-' 
nent considerations. 
There is no sentiment in a railroad. Profit and lasg 
alone appeal to them. If they take an active part in pro- 
tection and propagation of game — subiects nearest a 
sportsman's heartj most often ip his mind and on his 
