304 
FOREST AND STREAM, 
Presently the schoolmaster and the Hill boys aii4 girls 
came in, having come so far back to get a better start, as 
they said; and then after a little bustle of preparation 
the company set forth in the double track that hoofs and 
runners had made along the' snowy road. The young xr^ 
led the van with all manner of pranks that the exuberant 
spirits of 3'outh could suggest, until they seemed to be in a 
competition of grotesque forms with the distorted moon- 
hght shadows. After them followed the grown-up boys 
and girls, more staid of mien, yet breaking out now and 
then m some irrepressible freak; and last of all Sam and 
Huidah, each carrying an iron candlestick and spare 
candle, and each with newly awakened eyes upon the 
schoolmaster and Polly, who walked before them, a well- 
mated pair, Huidah thought, but for a matter of eight or 
ten years' difference in their ages. 
She" was fairly out of patience when Sam allowed his 
attention to their demeanor and her own pantomimic 
comments to be so far withdrawn as to listen to the wild 
barking of a fox far aM^ay in the hills, faintly heard among 
the echoed shouts and laughter of the youngsters. 
While tlie young and the middle-aged thus wended their 
way to the schoolhouse, the elderly folk bided at home 
sharing the light labors of evening housekeeping with the 
dogs' and cats. Uncle Lisha excused himself on the plea 
that he "couldn't spell 'baker' wi' the book open afore 
him" ; Annt Jerusha on that of "rheumatiz," and Timothy 
Lovel declared for the snug corner between the stove and 
wood box. 
The cozy restfulness of the room might tempt any one 
to remain in it with the elderly people, whose light 
labor was little more than pastime that did not interrupt 
conversation except when Aunt Jerusha counted the 
stitches of her knitting. Uncle Lisha braided a wood- 
chuck skin whiplash in most approved contour of swell 
and taper, and Timothy Lovel braided long, bristling 
ropes of corn husks for mats, while the stove roared, 
popped and crackled a lively accompaniment to the long, 
monotonous song of the tea kettle, the moving and 
smothered dream-baying of the hound and the purring of 
the cats. 
Hooks and poles over the stove supported a few strings 
of late-dried apples and some shriveled rings of pumpkin 
like necklaces of old gold, beside two or three clean dish 
towels slowly waving in the currents of hot air. On 
the corner of the scoured kitchen table a tallow dip in a 
bright jron sticks with snuffers, tray and extinguisher 
beside it, dimly lighted the work and cast faint shadows 
on the ceiling of choice ears of seed corn stretching across 
the cracked and wrinkled whitewash, and on the walls 
shadows of chairs and great and little wheels, one saddled 
with its bundles of white rolls, the other cfowned with 
its distaff full of fluffy flax. Their shadows were plain 
silhouette, for the wheels and the reel that clicked at every 
fortieth turn, most coveted plaything of children, were 
shoved close to the wall as if symbolic of their retreat 
into the background of the passing years, where the 
cards and the loom had already taken their places. The 
rolls were made by the carding machine; most of the 
cloth _ woven at the factory where much of the woolen 
spinning was beginning to be done. So the arts of hand- 
carding and hand-weaving were no longer indispensable 
parts of a girl's education, and even the beautiful and 
graceful art of wool-spinning was no longer tatight to 
every girl. Old folks mourned the degenerate days when 
the musical hum of the great wheel should be no longer 
heard. 
"If Polly does up an' git married, I do' know What 
she'll do for a settin' aout," Uncle Lisha said, as his eyes 
wandered over to the silent wheels and reel. "I don't 
s'p'ose she could spin a run o' yarn tu save her." 
"Law sakes ! Her mother's got a 'stro'nary settin' aout 
all pervided — more'n as much ag'in as Huldy ever had; 
stuff 'at she's saved up, an' stuff 'at she's spun, an' wove 
no eend o' linen sheets an' woolen sheets for winter, an' 
tew thirty-paound live-geese feather beds !" 
"Wal, Huldy's Polly'U know haow tu spin an' weave, 
I'll warrant ye, an' not be beholden tu nob'dy for her 
beddin'," Uncle Lisha said. 
"I d' know 'baout that," said Timothy, shaking his 
head dubiously. "It's all for bein' pop'lar naowerdays, 
ah' mebby Huldy'U foller the fashi'n wi' Sis. She's 
a-cuttin' an' sewin' rags tu weave her a carpet for the 
square room, an' fust ye know, a h'us'mat won't be good 
'nough for the front dobr." 
"I'll resk Huldy," Uncle Lisha declared, more loyal to 
his favorite than her father-in-law was. 
"Ye can't tell what women folks'll du when they git 
envyous an' tryin' tu be the pop'larist," Timothy insisted. 
"There's Goves' folks — coarser'n all tow, the old ones be, 
but the youngest girl she's up an' had her a m'lodeon, they 
call it ! My senses !" 
' "Yes, I know, an' it .squeaks an' grunts ju' luk a litter o' 
hungry pigs." ' 
"Sho, naow, Lisher!" Aunt Jerusha expostulated. "I 
hearn Philurg a-playin' on her music, an' it's raal 
pooty." 
"Pooty ! Oh, you go 'long wi' your nonsense !" the old 
man snorted contemptuously. "I'd ^nough sight livser 
hear you a'tunin' up on the big wheel. But that don't 
signify; Huidah hain't Goves' folks," and with that the 
subject was dropped, while the unison of drowsy sounds 
resumed its sway, punctuated by the slow tick of "the clock 
an-d the sharp irregular crackle of the fire. 
■Gran'ther Hill, from his judgment seat, growled his 
denunciation of modern spelling and swore by the Lord 
Harry "It shouldn't unjint his time-honored methods, an' 
he wa'n't a-goin' nigh the blasted spellin' bee." But 
Joseph attended, and even stood up to spell. 
•'The scene recalled to the elders the evenings of their 
youth, so slight were the changes the years had wrought 
■ in the room. The plaster of the walls was but little more 
b'roken, the desks and seats but little more scarred by the 
knives of a succeeding generation. The rusty stove and 
battered pipe roared and crackled as of yore, and there 
were the familiar odors of old unpainted woods and 
musty books, and the lingering mixed fragrance of the 
pies, cake; doughnuts, apples and cheese of cold dinners, 
all dissipated for the instant by the influx of fresh outer 
air brought with each new arrival, and then settling to 
resumption of their sway. But how changed the faces — ■ 
new ones in the places of old and youthful ones grown 
mature, and all bringirg to the scholars of former years 
a realization that they were growing old. 
The pxcrcijcs began with the choosing of sides by the 
schooiu!,l^cr and Sam Lovel, and the choice of Solon 
tlriggs lu put out Words, which part he performed to his 
great satistaction, not always suttering hmiself to be; con- 
lined to the Si.»elling book for words, but sometimes made 
excursions into his own wonderful vocabulary, as when he 
gave out "superguberosity,"' which no one could spell, to 
Colon's satisfaction. Joseph Hill was at no loss for 
ways of spelling the words that came to him, but was 
greatly ' troubled in his choice of the right .way. How- 
ever, he had reason to be pfoiid of the proficiency of his 
children, and was much comforted thereby. 
Then some big boj's and sottie little boys recited "Cas- 
abianca," "Marco Bbzarrfs," Hohenlinden ' and other 
district school favorites, some delivered in bold strident 
voices, others in abashed and trembling, but all in an un- 
varying sing-song which according to the popular idea 
constituted the principal difference between poetry and 
prose. Then the smoldering fire was made safe in a 
covering of ashes',' the candles were blown out and the 
company dispersed in the best of humor, each side taking 
its "spelling down" with jokes and laughter. 
An insight peculiar to the feminine mind revealed to 
Huidah that the schoolmaster and Polly were far gone in 
love, and as she was not displeased by the discovery, ex- 
cept for not having made it sooner, nor realized that her 
sister was no longer a little girl, she made no secret of it. 
It soon became a matter of neighborhood gossip. Mrs. 
Purington could not approve of a match that was not of 
her own making. For which reason and because she op- 
posed everything on principle, she made unpleasant re- 
marks to those around her, while she comforted herself 
with silent and somewhat dry weeping and deep drawn 
inhalations of hartshorn. 
"Nob'dy never asts my 'pinion 'badat nothih' ! I 
hain't nob'dy only Polly's mother, an' 'tain't reasonable 
they should when it consarns her futur' well-bein'. Oh, 
dear suzzy day! It seems as 'ough the 01' Scratch owed 
me a gretch an' was payin' on't off in son-in-laws. One a 
fox hunter, an' naow it's tu be a schoolmarster. Not 
but what schoolmarster's well 'nough, but why couldn't 
it ha' b'en a minister, or a inarchant? Their wives can 
be someb'dy. Wall, what can't be cured must be endured, 
an' like 'noiigh Mr. Mumpson'U take tu the ministry arter 
a spell." 
Taking this view of future possibilities she became more 
reconciled to Polly's engagement, and the course of the 
young people's Ibye was permitted to run smoothly, ex- 
cept that Polly \i/as taken from school and sent to the 
new Academy down in Lakefield. 
Sammy, and his sister continued to trudge to school 
together surnmer and winter, really as fond of each other 
as ever, but becoming a. little less companions and play- 
mates as the tastes of the boy and girl more distinctly 
asserted themselves, and each began to have confidences 
and secrets that were only for other boys and other 
girls. 
The time soon came when he was grown so tall and 
strong that, his services were needed on the farm, and the 
musty, choky little schoolroom knew him no more when 
the spring birds were singing, nor in the summer days. 
Sometimes in the soft May weather the big boy would 
dig worms and get the tackle ready and make Uncle Lisha 
supremely happy by coaxing him out for a day's fishing. 
What pleasant memories of the old days it brought 
back, yet how changed were the conditions, for the care- 
taker now was the tall, strong boy, and on his stout arm 
the old man leaned. ' The pleasant fall brought frequent 
days even in the midst of coruThusking. and potato-dig- 
ging, when the frosty grass and windless air were 
temptations too strong for Sam to resist, and he and his 
boy struck for the woods. 
"I'd ruther husk nights an' dig pertaters nippin' cold 
days 'an tu waste sech a mornin' as this!" Sam would 
say, but would not find his conscience quite stilled until 
the mellow music of the hound drowned its voice. 
At last Sammy quite outgrew his cramped seat in the 
district school, and vacated it forever. Mr. Mumpson had 
inspired him with some desire for learning, and there 
was some talk of sending him away to the Academy 
where Polly had been. " While he was dreading this de- 
parture from home'into the great unknown world outside 
the Danvis hills, with heart-sickening qualms, great events 
occurred to change the course of humble lives, as well 
as the course of nations. 
Rowland E. Robinson, 
[to be continued.] 
The Committee on Public Lands, which has had un- 
der consideration the bill providing for a bison preserve 
in New Mexico, have reported to Congress an amended 
measure and a recommendation that a suitable area shall 
be set aside in the Territory consisting of a tract of 
20,000 acres and at a nominal rent for the domestication 
of the experiment which Col. C. J. Jones wishes to make 
in the domestication of. buffalo. The proposed lease is 
to run for twenty years,, ajaH jn. return for the use of the 
land and the pfbtefi'tto'n '^'afforded by" the Government 
GoL Jones is- to iddiv'etete-^t^ ? certain pro- 
pottiot».. of ^th,e...Jn)pr.^asX^,.t^,/hA5Jjl.f|^i..T. The ' enterprise is 
in the hands of .Xohgr'es'sman '^^^ rnanifested 
so 'miich com'meridable j^ubKc %prit' arid" activity in allied 
fields, ahd- it ife 'pieobable that while 'Congress has ob- 
jected to the former proposition, which called for a more 
extensive, territpry, .the project in its jireseht. form may be 
approved. , , . ' ' Z~ 4-, . 
As Se.ertitary Kimball, 'of^the M-assachusetts Association 
points out in a communication published on another 
page, whatever may be- the result of -rthe effort to secure 
this amendment, the agitation of = the subject and the 
harmonious co-operation of the sportsmen- of the State 
cannot fail to be of distinct and abiding advantage. The 
sportsmen of Massachusetts have learned' that in their 
union there is strength. There is ever>'- reason why the 
plan of working together which has here been adopted 
should be adhered to for further efforts in the future. We 
believe that this at least may be counted as one of the 
steps of progress attained by the effort to prevent the 
sale of partridge and quail. 
The New Mexico Buffalo Park. 
The Committee on the Public Lands, to whom was 
referred the bill (H. R. 6062) to set apart a preserve for 
American bison, and for other purposes, beg leave to sub- 
mit the following report, and recommend the accompany- 
ing substitute for the bill. 
Charles Mair, of the Royal Canadian Society, in May; 
1890, made the following statement : 
"There is, perhaps, no fact in the natural history of 
America which brings such reproach on civilized man as 
the reckless and almost total destruction of the bison. 
* * * At this time there are in all probability not 500 
animals alive on the continent." 
When America was discovered the American Indians, 
measured by their flocks and herds, were as opulent as any 
people on the globe. The bison was the common property 
of all. He took care of himself both winter and summer, 
and furnished a never-failing supply of food and raiment 
for the aborigines. Through inconceivable ages this 
animal had become adapted to the soil, climate and sur- 
roundings. The bison is the most typically American 
of all of the indigenous beasts on the continent. 
In 1832 the last of the bison was killed east of the 
Mississippi River. Before the development of the rail- 
roads vast herds of these animals avoided the destructive 
effects of the white settlements by emigration to the Far 
West, and down to as late as 1870 they still numbered 
very many millions. The building of the Pacific Railroad 
was the signal for the destruction of these vast herds. 
They were slaughtered without mercy, for sport and for 
profit. 
The most pitiful story in the history of all animal life 
is Prof. William T. Hornaday's report on the extinction 
of the American bison. The mania for slaughter seems to 
have aft'ected every one. The English lord, the miner, the 
cowboy and the emigrant slew right and left, dotting the 
. plains with thousands upon thousands of tons of bleaching 
bones that have since been gathered up and transported to 
the sugar refineries on the Atlantic coast. These herds, 
that could have readily been converted into domstic 
animals and preserved as a permanent source of wealth, 
have been literally swept from the face of the earth. 
The cattle which have taken their place are unable to 
withstand the rigors and severity of the changeable 
climate. Where the .bison turned his head to the storm 
and fought it out with the blizzard, the American cattle 
of to-day turn tail to the wind and drift to destruction. 
The bison was clothed express^ to resist the severity of 
the' climate in which he was living. Prehistoric man, in 
his long warfare against the mammoth, left not one to 
tell the tale. Necessity for food, no doubt, was his ex- 
cuse, and the slow breedmg of these gigantic beasts made 
the extermination comparatively easy. When America 
was discovered the bison was the king of American beasts. 
By ages of gradual modification and natural selection an 
animal was developed, fitted in the most admirable way 
for a life in the vast region from Hudson Bay and Great 
Slave Lake to the Gulf of Mexico. 
The United States Government has tardily attempted 
to preserve some of the wonders of nature on the con- 
tinent. The word "extinction" does not quite literally 
apply to the bison, but we have arrived at a point where 
nothing but heroic treatment will prevent this animal from 
joining the dodo, the great auk and the mammoth. 
Prof. Hornaday thinks that there are at present 40C 
living buffalo in the whole world. The herd of the Flat- 
head Indians, the Buffalo Jones herd, the Goodnight herd, 
the Corbin herd, a few specimens here and there in 
zoological parks, remnants still of perhaps twenty in the 
Yellowstone National Park, and a few scattered "wood 
buffalo" west of Hudson Bay, embrace all that are left 
of the counless millions of a generation ago. 
Col. C. J. Jones was engaged with others in the general 
slaughter which nearly exterminated the buffalo. He 
realized that very soon there would not be a living speci- 
men of this wonderful animal, and he attempted to pr<^- 
serve at least a small herd from destruction. He ac- 
cordingly _ went systematically about the capturing of 
calves, driving with him milch cows to preserve the little 
captives, and he has at present about 100, the descendants 
of these captured calves. It is gratifying to find that hi? 
humane experiment was not unprofitable. The Govern- 
ment tried to save 400 of these animals in Yellowstone 
Park, but in that high altitude, with its rigorous weather 
and the relentless destruction of the animals when they 
wandered beyond the limits of the Park, it is not prob- 
able that there are more than twenty still alive. The 
climate of the Yellowstone Park, the high altitude, and the 
heavy snows there have all proven great barriers to tlie 
preservation or propagation of these animals. 
In a more favorable climate, with adequate protection 
and opportunity for ranging, breeding may be successfully 
carried on. Experience has shown that in close confine- 
ment most of the calves are males, but on the open range, 
under more natural conditions, the birthrate of the two 
sexes is about equal. If no one were now willing and ab''» 
to try the experiment of restoring a sufficient number .. ' 
these animals to insure them from total extinction, fi 
would be the duty of a great Government like ouf^ 
regardless of expense, to do whatever could reasonauij 
be done to that end. Thousands of dollars have been 
spent in vain in the mistaken eft'ort at the Yellowstone 
Col. Jones called attention to the dangers of that experi- 
ment, and offered to round up and save them from destruc- 
tion ; but the offer was rejected, and head-hunters, Avolves 
and. the failure to breed have almost annihilated this herd 
Practically all the animals with Avhich to try this experi 
ment of domesticating the buffalo are under the control 
of Col. Jones. We recognize the fact that the buffalo,^ 
like the Indian, must be domesticated or disappear; but it" 
is also trtie that an adequate home must be found for the 
few remaining, or else they cannot be protected and pre- 
served. After a few generations of domestication the!'" 
breeding can no doubt be carried on without the broad 
range that now seems necessary. To turn these animals 
out on the plains of any of the Western States or Terri- 
tories to take their chances Avith domestic cattle would 
result in their destructi'on. A range sufficiently large gnd 
