462 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Dec. 9, 1899. 
Sam*s Boy. 
II. — A Rainy Day in the Shop. 
One day when the grass was growing perceptibly in 
the steady downpour of rain, Sammy grew tired of 
watching the ceaseless leaping of a countless host of little 
men as he imagined the upspringing drops in the pud- 
dles to be, none of whom ever stayed long enough for 
him to get the least acquainted with, nor to mdividualize, 
as he could the robin and the sparrow that came down 
to the same puddle to drink and bathe. He would have 
known them the next day, for all their looking so 
blurred and distorted as they were by the streaked wash 
of the window panes, and they put him in mnid of 
something that made hmi run into the shop to bis friend 
and boon companion. 
The old man was closing up the seam of a boot leg 
with long, strong pulls of two waxed ends, the crooked 
awl going out on one side and jabbing the air, then 
coming back and stabbing the leather, the threads fol- 
lowing with a squeaking swish and a tight-drawn tug. 
"Hello, my man! An' what's he a-doin' on this -wet 
mornin'.'"' he accosted his welcome visitor. 
"Oh, not much; only watchin' the little men a-jumpin' 
up tu ketch the rain, an' the birds a-washin' off the' 
feathers; an' now I come for you to tell me a story. 
You said you would some rainy day, abaout them lishin' 
birds an' the mink — an' I guess tlMS is that kind of a 
day." 
■'Wal, yes; I most guess I did. Le' me see!" He 
scratched his head thoughtfully with the awl. "Was't 
the kingfisher? Yes. Wal, they was tew on 'em was 
borned right on this brook, in a hole in the bank, on a 
mess o' fish bones for a nest, I've hearn tell by them 
'at's seen 'em. An' here they lived an' growcd up one sum- 
mer, quicker'n what Icetle boys does, 'at takes twenty 
year, an' they I'arned tu fish as handy, 'thaout usin' 
any hook an' line or worms., but jest the' bills an' the' 
wings, a-hangin' in the air over a fish 'at didn't think 
no more harm on 'em 'an of a thistledown a-lioatin' 
by, till, kerslosh! daown come bill an' feathers atop on 
him, an' in he went along wi' a dozen others, an' a-sailin' 
oft over the water afore he'd done a-kickiu'. 
"When it come along in the fall o' the year an' got 
cold 'nough so't the' was spikes of ice made along the 
banks, these tew kingfishers started ofiE on a long journey, 
followin' the streams saouth, a-stoppin' tu ketch 'em a 
fish when they got hungry, a-seein' shell-duck a-scootin' 
arter 'em under water, an' loons a-divin', an' fish-hawks 
a-swoopin' aouten the sky, an' men a-ketchin' on 'em 
in all ways, so it seemed as if the' couldn't be a fish left 
nowheres for another year, an' so at last they come to a 
country where the rivers never froze an' the fields -was 
allers green. There was black men and women a-workin' 
in 'em an' a-fishin' in the streams, an' one day as they 
went clatterin' along a river, one on 'em lit on a stake 
nigh where tow black men was a-fishin' an' one on 'era 
says: "There's one o' aour kingfishers, an' when he 
goes north in the spring, I'm a-goin' tu foller him, 
come what will.' 
"An' sure 'nough so he did. When the birds looked 
back they seen him, fur or nigh — sometimes in a boat, 
sometimes a-wadin' when the' was bloodhounds arter 
him, goin' up streams when they run saouth, an' daown 
'em when they run north, till he come clean here, an' 
then the black man bid 'em good-by, an' thanked 'em, an' 
another man 'at I know put him intu a boat an' he went 
of? tu Canady, where Ann Twine come from." 
"That's a real nice story, Unc' Lisher; an' naow won't 
you tell me another?" said Sammy, settHng more com- 
fortably on a squeaky roll of sole leather. 
"Wal, the' was a leetle boy, 't was as hungry for stories 
as a kingfisher is for minnies, an' you couldn't fill him 
up no easier," said the old man. 
"Not that, but another, Unc' Lisher," the child pleaded. 
"Wal, I'll tell ye a story. 
" 'Baout ol' Mother Morey, 
An' naow my story's begun." 
"Oh, not that ol' tory," Sammy interrupteJl, kicking 
out impatiently, "but one about a mink. Oh, please, 
Unc' Lisher, it rains like everything!" 
"Wal, so I will, dear heart; an' it is tew bad tu plague 
a poor leetle boy 'at hain't a duck an' can't go aout 
an' play in the mud puddles," said the relenting racon- 
teur, cleaning his pipe with the awl, filling and lighting 
it while he planned a beginning and trusted to luck for 
a happy ending. 
"Once the' was a' ol' man mink an' his wife lived in a 
hole in the bank o' Stunny Brook— thet's aour brook-- 
'nunder the rhuts of a big maple tree, an' they wa'n't 
the pleasantest o' neighbors for the fish an' birds an 
frogs 'at lived nigh 'em, I'll tell ye, 'cause they was a 
hungry lot, an* more'n all that, killed whe« they wa'n't 
hungry. Why, they'd ketch an' kill frogs till they got 
a pile thev couldn't see one 'nother over, an' they was 
allers a-robbin' birds' nests o' aig§. an' young; an' fish— 
my land! the' wa'n't no sati'fyin' on 'em. An' they'd 
kill mushrat tew, bigger'n they was. An' when they ^ 
had a fam'ly o' young uns tu feed, it was ridic loiis the 
way them mink slaughtered right an' left. 
"One day in June a man 'at I know come along there 
an' he seen where them mink had killed ten young 
pa'tridges, an' he was mad, an' says he, 'I'll pay you for 
that in the fall when your fur gits good, for them was 
my pa'tridges.' An' so when cold weather come he > 
took some traps an' sot 'em some in holler lawgs an' 
some in holes, an' one in under the bi;^ maple, an' he 
baited 'em all wi' mushrat. which no mink can't never 
?o by, an' when he went 'raound tu 'em he had three 
o' them black thieves, an' he jest knocked 'em in the 
head and stretched the' skins on some boards, an' took 
•'em daown tu Claoham's an' sol' 'em. An' I expec' he'll 
buy a jack-knife wi' some o' the money, for bis nanie 
is Sam Love], an' his leetle boy wants <sne tu dress his 
fish with. ... 1 
"Naow. I see a shadblov/ tree over there m the woods 
't looks iu* like a ha^^cock ketched in a snow storm, an' 
'J.onR in j«ne. wljen the bar'ies g-its ripe, me an' Samm/ll 
go an' git some on' 'em, an' mebby shoot a wild pigieon, 
if daddy'll go 'long wi' his gun. An' that's stories 
'nough for one rainy day, hain't it?" 
Sammy unwillingly assented and went back to the 
kitchen to comfort himself with a slice of bread spread 
thickly with maple sugar. 
Rowland E. Robinson, 
[to be continued next week.] 
On the Edge of the Town. 
Five hundred yards from liiy door a ravine opens 
out from the upland beyond. On the one hand is a lofty, 
rounded hill, divested of trees and laid out in cultivated 
fields; on the other is a wooded summit, which, in 
memory of good old Gilbert White, of Sdborne, I am 
fond of calling the Hanger. Along the foot of the 
Hanger passes a street I'ailway. Withirl the radius of a 
mile from this hollow live 10,000 people, and scarcely 
two miles away is a community of not less than 400,000 
souls. Rus in urbe. 
The other day, near the end of November, I turned up 
into this ravine for a walk. There had been indications 
of rain, and I don't know why it didn't rain, unless it 
was to confound the weather biu-eau man, whose pre- 
dictions are usually to be interpreted by contraries. But 
the clouds cleared away in the afternoon, and the sun 
shone out somewhat feebly, but pleasantly. Not much 
can be expected in a rural walk in this latitude at this 
season of the year. But tired of the house and of books 
I felt impelled to go forth. 
"Nor rural sights alone, b.ut rural sounds, 
Exhilarate the spirit, and restore 
The tone of languid nature." 
On the slopes at the entrance to the valley the plumes 
of the goldenrbd still showed up in great profusion, but 
they were all white and frowsy — not much like the vision 
of yellow which but a few weeks earlier had clothed the 
hillsides. The asters, too, were still in abundance, but 
faded and withered, the mere ghosts of flowers. The 
herbage was generally dead and desiccated as an Egyp- 
tian mummy; btrt I noticed a bunch of dandelions as 
green as in the summer, and the yellow flowers as bright 
and fresh looking as ever. A very short distance up, the 
hollow contracted to a mere glen, little more than the 
channel of a diminutive wet-weather stream of water. 
The sides were high and steep. Bushes and trees grew 
along there in abundance, leafless now, or at most boast- 
ing a few brown and rustling reminders of better days. 
In the bushes I noticed a flock of sparrows flitting about, 
but entirely noiseless. I saw no other birds. I was sur- 
prised to see a black and brown caterpillar crawling 
along as industriously as in August, and I recalled what 
I had read but a day or two before in "Carpenter's 
Physiology" of the im-munity of this creature from the 
effects of cold. He relates that caterpillars have been 
frozen so hard that they clinked like bits of ice when 
thrown into a tumbler, and when thawed afterward did 
not seem to have been at all injured by the cold; and one 
individual that had been thus frozen four times after- 
ward developed into a butterfly. He relates in the same 
connection that frogs and snakes have been kept frozen 
solid in an ice-house for three years and afterward, when 
properly warmed up, proceeded to business as usual. 
A few hundred yards up this hollow, not a house was 
in sight, and except the noise of passing trains no sound 
of human voice or industry was heard. One seemed 
as completely isolated as in a canon of Colorado. Here 
on a slight shelf stood an immense buttonwood tree. 
The earth was high up against it on the upper side, 
while on the lower side the great arching roots stood up 
a foot or more above the ground, revealing a ledge of 
rocks behind them. The evidences of fire were under 
this tree, and it is said to be the favorite haunt of night 
prowlers who occasionally descend upon the neighboring 
hen coops. I could imagine the vagabonds basking in 
the firelight 'in this secluded dell, and their fragrant re- 
gale on the corpus delicti of fruitful biddy, or of 
chanticleer purloined from his accustomed perch. Not 
a leaf was now on this tree, but a wonderful crop of 
buttonwood balls were pendent from the branches. I 
wondered why nature should produce so abundantly a 
fruit that seemed to be of no use. And this led me to 
consider the vast waste that is continually going on in 
nature — the millions of seeds of plants and ova of fishes 
that never fulfill their manifest destiny, and the floods 
of light that are forever streaming off from the sun into 
the regions of empty space. The front of this tree I 
observed had been used to support a target; but I should 
judge from the scattered mounds -in the back that he 
who had been practicing there was not a skillful marks- 
man. 
Up through this hollow came at intervals the voice 
of the barnyard fowl, crowing defiance to all his tribe. 
The brown leaves rustled faintly in the light breeze. Ou 
the hillside the cattle moved leisuerly, cropping the 
scanty pasturage. Here upon the ground lay an odd- 
looking piece of limestone, in shape resembling a pack- 
saddle, such as our fathers used in transporting goods 
across the AUeghanies, but in size suggesting the pelvic 
bone of some monster of the preglacial age. The ravine 
leads on up the slope, becoming more and more shallow 
as it proceeds, until at the top, where the turnpike 
passes along the ridge, it reaches the level. A little 
beyond is the summit of the hill. 
"Now roves the eye; 
And, posted on his speculative height. 
Exults in its command. The sheepfold here ~ 
Pours out its fleecy tenants o'er the glote. 
At first, progressive as a stream, they seek ' 
The middle field: but scattered by degrees, "i 
Each to his choice, soon whiten all the land. " 
There from the sunburnt hayfield homeward creeps 
The loaded wain; while, lightened of its charge, ' 
The wain that meets it passes swiftly by; 
The boorish driver leaaiing o'er Ws team, 
Vociferous, and impatient of delay." 
Such the scene presented to Cowper from the hills 
about Olney — not such to us from this coign of van- 
tage. Off to the east only a mile or two distant we see 
the ©utskirts of the city; to the west the fair valley of the 
Chartiers, not occupied a,s was the valley of Bagdad in 
the famous vision of Mirza, by oxen, sheep and camels 
"grazing upon the sides of it," but with scores of hand* 
some dwellings, each standing in its plot of green. 
Descending the hill by way of the Hanger, I stopped 
to notice where there had been a recent landslide. The 
railroad below had weakened the underpinning of the 
hill, and in a recent wet spell a mass of land, nearly a 
quarter of an acre in extent, had slipped forward and 
downward a distance of 2 or 3 feet. I had observed 
the laborers removing the debris below. I noticed that 
great roots 5 or 6 inches in diameter had been broken 
short off like pipe stems. The force that could pull 
two such roots must have been immense. The trees had 
not fallen or changed their relative positions in any 
manner, except that they had migrated in a body 2 or 
3 feet further down the hill. Had Macbeth beheld that 
movement he might well have thought his time had 
come. 
From the hillside I looked forth over the landscape 
already growing dim in the early dusk. 
"I saw the woods and fields at close of day, 
A variegated show; the meadows green, 
Though faded; and the lands, where lately waved ^ 
The golden harvest, of a mellow brown, | 
Upturned so lately^ by the forceful share. i 
I saw far off the weedy fallows smile 
With verdure not tmprofitable, grazed \ 
By flocks, fast feeding; and selecting each 
His favorite herb; while all the leafless groves 
That skirt the horizon, wore a sable hue, ^ j 
Scarce noticed in the kindred dusk of eve." 
1NGR..M, Pa. T. J. Chapman. > 
Doctor Novice. 
If you think a whole lot of a man, you will demonstrate 
it more fully perhaps than in any other one way, by ask- 
ing him to go on a hunting trip with you. It nnplies a 
heap of real admiration for the man; you take him into 
the "solitary confines" of confidence, and often becotne 
his bed-fellow. If he be a novice and you know him to 
be of the level-headed sort, you can take him along and 
retain or increase your admiration. If he be of any other 
kind, you' can only do better in the way of friendship 
and respect by leaving him home, for if you do take him 
:fou may tell of your manly achievements on one leg or 
minus an arm, or go through life blindly, and call your- 
self an ass in love with a fool, and one would naturally 
think an ass too stupid and a fool too blatant to love a 
shotgun, but this unfortunately is not altogether a fact. 
(Read the daily papers for daily particulars.) In many 
cases the fool fortunately exterminates himself, btit the ass 
unfortunately hits the other fellow; so in inviting the 
novice to go shooting with you, be quite sure he is 'en- 
tirely a man in most all things, and he is more than apt 
to be on the sunny side of your affections when you get 
back home, and you won't need any repairs. 
My recent experience was of this kind, and I feel that 
I have launched an enthusiast of no mean order, not to 
mention the good time spent in watching the slow, but 
sure, developrsent of my Doctor Novice. 
Grouse hunting in Pike county sounds interesting; to 
know anything about it, however, is like Masonry — you 
can only know it after various stages of "being there." 
Many have tried this kind of hunting and quit; others 
have seasoned it once or twice and have declared for 
something easier; others again will realize their aproach- 
ing years at this game as in no other way. English setters 
oi a positively well-known mettle have been known to 
balk and lie down at it, while others will whine at the 
peep of day to remind you of the limited rest for the 
weary. Yet, for me it has a fascination stronger than 
any other hunting, and even though my locks are getting 
frosty and dear old Jennette begins to "look the weight" 
of time, I shall hope to look yearly into those ravines, and 
cross those tangled barrens, and good Jenn's children and 
grandchildren shall be my companions. It takes one verj' 
much out of the beaten paths of man, tries verj' hard 
his gun judgment, experiments so nicely with his skill,- 
taxes all of his ttsed and unused muscles, and makes so 
many of them feel as though he could never use them 
again, strikes so viciously the bullseye of his patience, and 
gives him such an incentive to shoot and do it quick when 
a bird rises. ' 
At this sport, as in many other things in life, 'tis the 
unseen things that are to be dreaded; prominent and 
positive, among other things, are the leaf-covered broken 
rocks, that one must step over, on, in under and nround. 
To do this correctly and systematically one must be born 
among them ; it cannot be acquired ; the trapeze performer 
or a master of terpsichorean art would break every bone in 
his body huntimg in Pike county, just as quickly as any 
one else. I am just out of bed from a fall during my 
last trip, and find sweet and soothing consolation in the 
fact that it didn't occur on the first or second day out, 
and that the Doctor, while fall down he did, didn't get a 
scratch, and was at all times (but once) as lit as iSweet 
cream to ripe fruit. 
A hundred miles in a whist game and nine miles in a 
mountain hack brought us to our destination at 8 o'clock ; 
at 9 our host and family and guests retired, or rather 
the family did ; Doctor and I went to our room ; at to 
o'clock the Doctor wanted to know the habits of rattle- 
snakes on Oct. 16, and if I thought they could "hit" 
through his brand new dollar and a half leggings; at H 
o'clock he said: "It's too early to go to bed; let'.s 
smoke" ; at 12 o'clock he sought my theory as to the most 
expeditious way to get away from a wildcat with No. 7 
shot; at i o'clock he thought a man a double-barreled 
ass to tackle that bear-ridden country with only a 12- 
bore shotgun as a weapon of defense : at 2 o'clock he 
reported from his window at the side of the bed that the 
fog was lifting ; and at 3 that it had lifted, and he thought 
we would have a nice day; at a he thought he had better 
begin dressing, as he wasn't just sure where his good 
wife, mother and baby had packed his things, and the 
room was small for two to dress in at one time any waj^ 
At 4 that afternoon the Doctor's whole argument was 
that a man should not do too much in one day. and from 
a scientific point of view he ordered himself to go to the 
house and lie down ; he had caused enough slaughter for 
one day anyhow — he had killed the first two grouse he had 
ever seen on the wing — certainly a satisfactory day for tny 
Doctor Novice. 
