FOREST AND STREAM. 
3 Si 
^'Many Sport&men Lorn Dogs/* 
F'ftiLADELfHlA, Pa. — Udiiqr Porest atid Stream: 1 fead 
in FdREST AND Stream of Oct. 19, uridef tlie eaptioli 
"Many Sportsllien Lose t)ogs," the stat.eineht inade by 
Mr. E. Hoiigii, as foilo-ivs:- "Kever in the histofy of 
Chitago have so Oiauy .^eiitlemeft lost vfiluable shooting 
(logs through tjie rascality of alleged trainers as has 
Ii'ccn the case this fall," etc. I'hcn he enumerates five 
cases, in which trainer and dog both disappeared^ — two 
wei'e pbisbnedi One w'as hanged in a wire fence, and one 
ran away. It is a fair presumption that all of Mr. 
Hough's information is founded on hearsay, in so far as 
it concerns this matter, ts i\6t thftt rathel- inadeqilate 
testimony on which to make so broad and grave a 
charge? Are uot dogs poisoned, or lost by death, when 
they are in the .cha''ge of their owners? Are they not lost, 
or stolen, when in the charge of their owners? Is it to 
be assumed that because a dog is in the charge of a 
trainer, such dog is immune from loss, accident, or 
death?' 
There is one feature of Mr. Hough's sweeping accusa- 
tion which is particularly deplorable. By omitting the 
names of tlic trainers whom he charges with "rascality," 
he places every trainer more or less under suspicion. Is 
it not a fair presumption that the good names of the hon- 
c^t li'ainei's are as dear to them as Mr. [ lough''; is dear 
i.> Jiim? 
In niy opitituii it is, on his part, flagrantly unjust to 
a reputable class of men, who are pursuing a useful pro- 
fession, to cast, or rather attempt to cast, a stigma upon 
them by such a general accusation, to say nothing of the 
absence of any good authority for making it at all. 
If we assume that Mr. Hough is justified in arrogating 
to himself the authority to pass on each case which con- 
cerns owner and trainer, in fairness both sides should 
liave tt hcclfing, Nothing i.s more unjust than to make a 
fJtiblic accusation on eJC parte evidence. 
Moreover, as & genergl proposition, a business matter 
iJetvvecn tWo of mote people is generally conceded to 
1->e thcif own affair. If there is any important wrong- 
done to either, there are courts, for the special purpose 
of dealing out jtistice, and in the procedure therein both 
parties have a full hearing, in which hearsay and con.- 
jecturc have no: place. 
I have had some dealing with both trainers and owners. 
Trainers have their grievances, as well as owners. The 
same human natitre is found to exist among them. Dis- 
honesty is not confined to any one class. The misdeeds 
of the few .should not be charged to the whole. /Vrt. 
Trainmgf the Hantingf Dogf. 
Toledo. O. — Editor Forest and Stream: I read "Train- 
ing the Hunting Dog for the Field and Field Trials," 
with great enjoyment and profit. I read the chapters 
of it in Forest yVXD Stre.\m as they were first pub- 
lished, but. of course, one derives more benefit from 
reading them in the consccutiveness of a book. It is 
fine, not only to a man who wishes to train a dog com- 
pletely, but also to those who wish to keep a dog in 
training after he is once broken. 
Not the least valuable part of the work is that which 
teaches the trainer to train himself. I recommend the 
work most strongly. 
Edm. H. Osthaus. 
Points and Rushes. 
Tlic Brandtord (Can.) Kennel Association, tlie secre- 
tary. Dr. Babcock, informs us, will hold its first show 
nnder C. K. C. rules, on Thanksgiving Day. 
♦ — ' 
'Mid Reef and Rapid.— XXVI. 
BY F. R. WEBB. 
The time drifted very pleasantly by us, here at Riv- 
erton. As a matter of fact, by referring to my log, I 
find that we spent two whole days in camp here; but in 
an idle camp life like ours — ^idlc, yet not idle, for in 
writing letters, bringing the log up to date, reading, 
overhauling canoes, camp outfit and duffle, and in rest- 
ing, one is hardly idle — I say, in a camp life like onurs, 
time seems to have no well-marked divisions; and morn- 
ing, noon and night, while they come and go with their 
accustomed regularity, leave no .such impression as when 
one is regularly occupied with one's usual routine of daily 
duties; and, while the time certainly did ijjDt drag on 
nur hands, it seetned to stand still, as it were, and we 
Seemed to remain here an indefinite period — ^to quite 
become residents, as it were, as we passed to and fro. 
back and forth — to postoifice, store and where not — on 
various errands, before we folded our tents aitd silently 
drifted away, as we had come, on the bosom of the ever- 
Bowing nver. 
The river ran down very rapidly, but as it was still 
red and muddy we. of course, had no fishing. We spent 
an evening at "the Kenner House, where our fair visitors 
were boarding, and Geoi-ge and I entertained the guests 
with some piano ard violin music. 
. Lacy and I had intended going over to Front Royal 
on the last day of our stay and taking dinner at the big 
hotel there, but a heavy rain set in. and we spent the 
forenoon cuddled in our respective blankets and tents, 
smoking, reading and dozing. 
Ahottt 12 o'clock we were aroused by a hail, and on 
looking out we beheld Dr. Blackwell, attired in rubber 
coat, hat' and boots, come down through the rain, to in- 
vite tl.s itp to dinner with him at the Kenner House, 
where we spent several hours very .pleasantly, George 
and I playing some more duets, which the Doctor and 
a friend varied by pe'-forming some banjo and guitar se- 
lections. It rained more or less steadily all the after- 
noon, and; after leaving the Kenner. we returned to oitr. 
ie,'"its. ijur pipes and our books. 
Toward evening the Doctor again appeared in cainp, ■ 
fvundling his catjoe, bglancgd agross the hurricane deck 
of a wheelbarrow. He cut such a figure, coming down 
the middle of the road under a full head of steam, that 
George promptly gathered him in with the kodak. 
He had his tent and campmg outfit packed in the 
canoe, and had come, at our invitatioiiv to make camp 
with us and spend the night. His boat was placed in , 
the river, and duly tested by all of us before his tent was 
made up. It was a very creditable piece of work, indeed, 
barring the fact that he hadn't given it beam enough, 
and it was consequently rather crank, 
Lacy, who had gone out to visit some friends after 
dinner, returned about the time that the Doctor joined 
US; and we found that, while out, he had in some man- 
ner — surreptitious, no doubt — become possessed of a 
chicken. Our suspicions were confirmed Avhen it was 
ascertained that the chicken was ready dressed and cut 
up fol- the frying-pan, and we had no doubt but that, on 
taking his departure from his friend's house, he had 
slipped out through the kitchen. He made a plausible 
statement to the effect that the chicken was given him 
by friends, for the use and behoof of the party, which 
statement, considering Lacy's well-known fluency and 
readiness where anything to eat is concerned, we placed 
no confidence in, although, per force, constrained to ac- 
cept. However, it was no concern of ours. We had not 
lost an}^ chickens, and avS it was a welcome addition to 
our larder, we thottght it the part of wisdom to accept 
his statement st its face valtte, along with the chicken, 
and keep our doubts and misgivings to ourselves, and. 
accordingly, the chicken occupied a prominent place in 
our supper bill of fare. 
"Doctor, have you had many big floods in this river?" 
asked George, as we sat comfortably around our brightly 
blazing campfire, enjoying our evenmg cigars. It was a 
beautiful, clear night, after the day's rains; the clouds 
had all cleared away and the stars were shining brightly. 
The air was crisp and cool, and perfectly still. Not a 
leaf stirred overhead. A church bell, tolling in the vil- 
lage near by, sounded soft and mellow on tite night air, 
while the lugubrious howling of a dog came at intervals 
across the fields. Near at hand the deep, pervasive 
drone of the big dam, which stretched across the river 
just opposite us, as we sat enjoying the cheerful light 
and warmth of our campfire, below the fly, fell, solemn 
and impressive, or. our ears. The fly gleamed brightly, 
just above us, in the glare of the' blaze, in whose fitful 
light the more distant canoe tents loomed up, ghostly 
and indistinct, in a receding line. The paddles leaning 
against a tree stood out from their dark background, 
and the provision bags, hanging on the tree trunks out 
of reach of prowling "varmints," gleamed whitely in the 
flickering light. Out between the trunks of the trees 
the placid surface of the river lay like a black, polished 
mirror, reflecting the stars in its mysterious depths, while 
the wave-crests in the rapids below the dam gleamed 
faintly white, with here and there a dancing twinkle of 
a star; and the lights shining brightly from, the win- 
dows, here and tliere, on the bluff-like bank across the 
river, were caught ttp on the restless waters and carried 
across, in long, undulating lines. 
"Well," the Doctor replied, "the flood of 1870 was the 
greatest, ever known. The flood of '77 was just 40ft. 
high, on the side of the mill — ^jft. less than the flood of 
'70. The trestle work approaches to the Southern Rail- 
road bridge below the mill there were carried away in 
this flood. They were also carried away, and the bridge, 
too, in the flood of '70. _ There was high water three 
times in '70, and each time these trestles were carried 
away." 
"The railroad was playing in hard luck, that year," 
George remarked. 
"l^'es," replied the Doctor; "there was also high water 
in 1889. The water rose 37ft. on the side of the mill, and 
got the railroad trestles again.'' 
"Was the dam ever carried out?" I asked. 
"No," replied the Doctor; "it was badly damaged In 
the flood of '8q, and a big hole was broken in it; and, 
after the water went down, it made a large whirlpool, or 
suck-hole above the dam; really so large as to be dan- 
gerous of approach. An amusing incident occurred in 
connection with this suck-hole. One of our local celeb- 
rities — a waterside character, Peter Harmon by name — 
was fishing from a boat- above the dam, and carelessly 
got too near this whirlpool. His boat was caught in 
the current and began to swing round and round, ap- 
proaching the suck-hole in the center at each gyration. 
Peter got rattled and completely lost his head, and 
jumped overboard to swim ashore. He was, of course, 
promptly gathered in by the suck, and after two or three 
preliminary gyrations he disappeared. The horrified 
spectators of course thought he was drowned, but in a 
few minutes he popped up about 50yds. below the dam, 
spitting, spluttering and cussing, with all the breath he 
had left. As soon as he could find wind enough he yelled 
at the crowd. 'Why in h and several kinds of foreign 
■ nations haven't you got a boat here for me! Do you take 
me for the Apostle Peter?" A boat was speedinly 
manned and .sent out", and Pete was picked up and 
brought ashore, not much the worse for his trip. 
"That's a good one!" exclaimed George, after the 
laugh had subsided. 
"I'd like to shoot that dam." Lacy remarked, as he 
refilled his pipe, and borrowed a match from the Doc- 
tor, which he lit bv holdin.g it to the embers of the fire, 
and then applied to his. pipe. 
"Why, you couldn't do it safely, could you?" asked the 
Doctor, in .surorise. 
"Oh, yes; I think so," Lacy, rephed. "There appears 
to be a deep flew of water over the edge of the dam. and 
the water is deep below, and I think there would be no 
danger. T feel strongly tempted to try it, anyhow." 
"But the undertow!" insisted the Doctor. "You would 
most likelv be drawn back up under the dam and carried 
down by the fall!" .7 " 
"I think not," Lacy returncd- 
"T think tltere is great danger 'of it," the Doctor in- 
sisted. "There was. a- man drowred otit there, under that 
dam: in that manner, some years ago," . . . 
- ' "How did it happen, Doct-pr?" I asked. "I have heard 
that, some years ago, a boat was " drawn ' tip under the 
fall over' the dam and a man' drowned. Tell us about it: 
how it haopene<l." 
-"Well, i -think it an open nuestion whether he Wflf^ 
drowned or whether he died from heart failure. At any 
rate, he lost his life there, from the boat being drawn' 
up under the fall of the dam and swamped. It happened 
this way: .Dr. Williams and Mr. Smith Turner, of Front 
Royal, our present Congressman from this district, you 
know, succeeded Goveraor O'Ferrall^ " 
"Yes." I replied. 
"Well," he continued; "they were fishing below the 
dam, in a large fishing boat they ov/ned, well-fitted for 
fishing, with good anchors at each end, and other con- 
veniences. Dr. AVilliams was quite elderly— something 
upward of 70, but was quite an ardent and expert fisher- 
man — one of the best posted men in all points pertain- 
ing to fishing in this region, which is saying a good deal., 
in this land of expert fishermen. Well, they had am 
anchor at each end of the boat, as I said before, which: 
were lying on the decked ends of the boat, where they 
could be quickly dropped overboard when the proper 
time came. The Doctor was paddling; and they were 
working for position, close up under the dam and broad- 
side to it, so as to fish right up under the fall. The boat 
was worked up too close, and, in an instant the under- 
tow, boiling up from below, caught it and carried it 
right up, broadside on. under the heavy fall. The boat 
was instantly swamped, but, being of wood, of course 
did not sink. Both anchors, however, rolled off into the 
river as the boat careened, and, as they were rove up 
short, they held the boat right there, under the fall- 
Turner shouted to the Doctor to jump. threw_ himselti 
on his back in the water.. on the down stream side, and- 
bracing his feet against the side of the boat, he gave » 
vigorous shove, which carried him clear of the undertow 
and into the swift current below, which, in a few mo- 
ments, carried him down into the shallow water of the 
rapids, where he regained his footing and easily got 
ashore. The Doctor, however, who was also an expert 
swimmer, remained with the boat a few minutes, keeping 
afloat by holding to the sides of the boat, while he tried 
to secure his fishing tackle. He took a great deal of in- 
terest and pride in his rods ankl tackle generally, and 
iiaturallv tried to save his rod. However, he at last got 
clear of the boat, and. as Turner reached the rapid and 
secured a footing and turned to look for the Doctor, he 
was observed to be standing on a large, flat ledge, for 
which he swam — being well acquainted with its location — 
in water not quite ttp to his waist. As Turner looke/.l 
the Doctor waved his arms, as if to assure Turner of his 
safety, and that he was all right. Turner then made his 
way ashore, and when he again turned to look for the 
Doctor he was nowdtere to be seen. Search being 
promptly made his body was found, close to the ledge: 
but as he was in shallow water when last seen, it has 
been supposed bv manv that he was not drowned, as was 
popularlv accepted, but that he died suddenly from heart 
failure, consequent on the sudden excitement and shock. 
He had had one or two attacks of this character before, 
and had been warned that the next one might prove fatal, 
which, perhaps, confirms this theory. At any rate, 
whether his death restdted from heart failure or drown- 
ing, the fact remains that it was dtte to his boat being 
caught in the undertow and swamped." 
In the morning Dr. Blackwell was given an oppor- 
tunity to sample one of our famous breakfasts of fried 
bacon and a sc'-amble of fried potatoes, fried onions and 
egps, and he improved the opportunity to the utmost. 
°We were quite sorrv that he could not join us for tlie 
remainder'of our cruise to Harper's Ferry, but the con- 
dition of several of his patients was such that he couJcl 
not leave them at this time. 
It was a bright, beautiful morning after the rams. The 
i-iver— now run down to a most beautiful canoeing stage, 
some 12 or isin. above dead low-water mark— caressed 
bv the fresh morning breeze, rippled and sparkled m the 
bright sun. which was reflected from every little wavelet, 
and from the bright foam crests of the rapids below^the 
big dam, while the rain drops glittered and twinkled in 
countless diamond points from- every leaf, from which 
they fell in dewy little showers of hvmg light, as the 
boughs were gently swayed by the breeze. 
Overhead, a few snowv masses of clouds drifted across 
the sky, behind whose light, fleecy folds the sun was occa- 
sionally obscured, and his rays tempered, and it was with 
bright anticipations of the day's sport that the canoes 
were carried down upon the low, sloping platform which 
served as a wing, or anchor, to the end of the dam, and 
there packed and launched. With cordial good-bys to 
the Doctor, and waving of hats and handkerchiefs to a 
little group of our fair friends, gathered on the bridge 
just above the dam, we stepped down into our canoes, 
took our seats and pushed out into the stream, and were 
speedilv dancing down over the rapids on the final stretch 
of our' cruise, with Harper's Ferry, at the mouth of the 
river, as our obiective point. _ _ ,, t.^- 
We passed under the bridge of the historic old Manas- 
sas Gap Railroad, dropped on down past the mouth of the 
North Fork, whose bulk and volume considerably aug- 
mented the river; passed under the long bridge of the 
Norfolk & Western Railroad, shot down the steep little 
rapid below and swung around the short, sharp, little bend 
to the left, and Riverton and the upper river were left 
behind, and we were fairly embarked on the lower river. 
The Shenandoah is as beautiful a river from as far up 
its triplet head streams— North, South and Middle rivers 
as I have ever seen, to its final, swift union with the 
Potomac at picturesque. Gibraltar-like Harper's Ferry, 
but nowhere is it so lovely as in the fifty-five-mile section 
embodied in the main river from the union of the North 
and South Forks at Riverton to the Potomac— tlie section 
on which we were now cruising. Broad, deep and ma- 
iestic. it swept on .its way. around bkiff and lowland, 
past massive cliffs, whose beetling htows overhung the 
black, fathomless water, which lay still and mirror-like 
at their bases, and in whose mysterious depths they were 
darkly reflected; past lofty, tree-clothed bluffs, whose 
rugged heights, softened by the rich, green mantle of ver- 
dure, upon their shoulders, smiled back up at us from the 
placid depths below', their soft masses wrinkled and dis- 
torted.by the long lines of water diverging from the prows 
of our deliberately moving canoes, and. the gentle swirls 
from Our paddle blades in bur wakes, past low. wooded 
