At»RlL 16, 1904.] 
a thing. It would cost a good deal to make the requisite 
surveys, the necessary borings and examinations. 
Wliat confusion exists in regard to this fourteen 
thousand square miles of land! So many miles are 
liable to be submerged, so many are above the high- 
water marks, so many have such and such growths 
upon them, so many are cleared already, and the levee 
is so far protective, and so far disintegrated by such 
and such a number of cubic feet of unexpected waters 
• — these things are interesting, valuable, have their ef- 
fect on the current market reports, and the notebook 
maker finds himself very deeply involved in them 
alone; but here and there are leads — traces and trails — 
which take him back into those old days when lots of 
things happened, around which tradition has thrown 
a beautiful halo, and lots of darting streaks of light, 
which confuse the vision. 
It is convenient to assail the Government. Why go 
way down to Pelee, to far-off Alaska, to see if the 
American Hag is nailed to the North Pole, with this 
large area, like prickly heat, so near and so marked 
with question points? Tie up one of those dredges 
digging channels at which the river pilot usually laughs, 
and set the crew to examining the Sunk Lands, please, 
Mr. Uncle Sam — so one is tempted to ask. 
Three weeks ago I wrote, "It is certain the ground 
sank." Faithfully I had gone to old citizens, read 
stories, tried 10 get something accurate in my notebook 
about this region, and I was sure the ground "sank"— 
that the earth had really settled. To-day in Memphis 
I heard Robert Mitchell say that an old surveyor, who 
had solved the Spanish method of surveying, found 
their heaps of charcoal under marked trees, showing 
lines; and these lines, made back in the 1700s, were 
unchanged, though in the heart of the Sunk Lands 
country. The level was unchanged. What happened then? 
Why do the maps say "Sunk Lands" ? It is a curious 
question, one involving some queer country — lakes 
M'here forests stood, and forests where lakes used to 
be. Reelfoot Lake is one of these "sunk land lakes," 
filled with the dead stubs of a forest. 
The earthquakes are all gone, save "once in a while 
we have our little shakers." But when the violent 
shocks of 1811-12 had gone past, not only had the in- 
habitants become pious to a large extent, but there was 
a new country for many miles around New Madrid, 
whichever way the woodsman, most familiar with the 
region, chose to travel. Raymond S. Spears. 
The Story of a Horse. 
Some weeks ago Cabia Blanco told of his horse Bum- 
mer eating the army cook house slops, and of the sorrel 
mare that ate tobacco. I can go Cabia Blanco "one 
better," in that I had a horse that would do both. 
I have long wanted to tell Forest and Stream about 
Pet (that was the name of the horse that would do 
such an awful thing as to eat tobacco and garbage). I 
bought her of my brother in Jefferson county in 1865, 
when she was five years old. Pet was so well broken 
that I could leave her on the street without hitching 
half a day at a time, and often did so while buying wool 
on the street. (I was agent of a woolen mill at that 
time.) I often rode horseback to the mill in the morn- 
ing, and on the way home at noon would stop at my 
office on Main street, when I would throw the reins of 
the bridle over the back of the saddle. My brother, 
who occupied the store in which I had my office, knew 
Pet's failings for tobacco, and would go out and "give 
her a chew." The store adjoining was a tobacco store, 
whose proprietor also had acquired the habit of treat- 
ing Pet. So, when she was left unhitched under saddle 
in front of the two stores, and her friends failed to 
make the usual donation after a reasonable time, she 
would step across the sidewalk to the tobacco store 
(she knew by the smell) and nose the door handle until 
the proprietor "gave her a chew" and put her in the 
street, where she would wait for me. But should I re- 
main longer than what seemed a reasonable time to her, 
she would Walk up the street and turn the corner and 
stop at the News room, where I always stopped to get 
my paper. After waiting for me a few minutes, she 
would go across the street in the alley, where there 
was a pile of dry-goods boxes, which she would nose 
and lick. When I had gotten my paper and started for 
the post-office, I would snap my whip and say, "Come, 
Pet," and when I came out of the office she would be 
standing at the curb for me to mount. 
Pet had another habit that I have never known an- 
other horse to have. When driven to a sleigh during 
a heavy fall of snow, if left standing ©n the street, she 
would lie down in the snow. She would not try to roll. 
One morning when on my way to the mill, I left her 
standing at the side entrance of the bank while I was 
inside. A friend saw the mare lie down in a foot of 
fresh snow. He put his head in the door and said, 
"Davison, your horse is down." I told him that it was 
all right; she would get up when she got ready. When 
I went out she got up, shook herself, and was ready 
to go when I got in the sleigh. She did this many 
times and never broke a thill or disarranged the har- 
ness. 
Pet was a goo4 stepper, and I could "lay out" all the 
fast horses on East avenue and on the ice of the Erie 
Canal. 
I must tell of my first hunting trip with Pet within 
a month after I got her. It was the first day of quail 
shooting, Oct. 20. I had a fine cocker spaniel that a 
friend had brought from England. Pet, Karo, and I, 
all in the new buggy, hied away to seventy-five acres of 
land about nine miles from the city that I had acquired 
in June, at which time I had heard and saw many Bob 
Whites, which I concluded went with the land. After 
putting Pet in the small log barn on the place, Karo 
and I started out to gather in some of the game, but 
succeeded in getting only three quail and one grouse 
when it commenced to rain, and we returned to keep 
Pet company for some hours, when v/e started for home 
in the rain. For some reason the dog did not want to 
ride, and jumped out of the wagon. Pet did not pro- 
pose, to wait for him, and he was soon far in the rear. 
I stopped Pet, and when the dog came I again took 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
him into the wagon, only to have him jump out again 
a few minutes later, -and he was soon left behind. 
Afraid that he might tire out before getting home, and 
that I would lose him, I again waited for him to catch 
up, and taking him in again, snapped the hitching strap 
to his collar ring and tied him to the dashboard of the 
wagon. I stopped to see a farmer, hitching Pet to the 
gate post with the halter. Before getting to the house, 
which was some' distance from the road, I heard the 
dog yelling, and looking back, saw the mare humped 
up with her feet all together, trying to get as far away 
from the wagon as possible. The dog had jumped out, 
and as the strap was too short for him to reach the 
ground, he had swung around between the crossbar of 
the thills and the mare. Before I could get to her, she 
commenced to kick. I soon had the mare by the head, 
but could not stop her kicking until I picked up one 
of her forefeet. After quieting her, I stepped along to 
raise out the dog (which was dead). As I did so, she 
saw the motion, and gave one kick, which just grazed 
my knee and tore my trousers leg nearly off. I patted 
her on the hip and spoke to her, and then took the 
dog out without further trouble. The only damage to 
the wagon was a broken crossbar of the thills. The 
cushions, laprobe and blanket were thrown out of the 
wagon. After laying the dead dog in front of the mare, 
that she could see that he was harmless, I bound the 
broken crossbar and whiffletree together with the fatal 
hitching strap, the mare watching me the while (I never 
used blinds on her). The women folks came out to 
see what the trouble was, and asked how I was going 
to get home, saying that the horse "would run away 
and kick everything to pieces and kill me." I assured 
them that I would have no trouble in getting home, and 
I did not, and also, I never drove over that road in as 
quick time again. But ther2 was lamentations on my 
arrival home over the sad fate of Karo. 
And now comes the sequel to that tragic affair. 
Before I had got my wagon repaired I made arrange- 
ments with one of the best sportsmen here for a few 
days' quail shooting, where I had had such hard luck. 
When about half way there, we heard the call of "Bob 
White." Hitching the mare to the fence at the road- 
side, and getting the dogs and guns out of the wagon, 
we started out to investigate. My friend had an English 
setter, and I procured a black pointer of the same 
breed as that Nessmuk wrote about in Forest and 
Stream fifteen years after, that he had used while living 
in Lockport, in 1845, and of which he wrote to me. 
The quail we had heard did not materialize, and we 
returned to the wagon. I left the loading of the dogs 
into the wagon to my friend, while I unhitched the 
mare. While I was doing so the black dog got against 
her heels, and then there was some "high kicking" for a 
time, long enough for the mare to free herself of the 
wagon. I held to the reins at her head, and had my 
hands badly cut either by the bit or the mare's teeth. 
The only other damage done was to the harness. After 
getting the harness in shape that it could be used, I 
tried to get the mare between the thills, but without 
success. A farmer and his son came to our help and 
drew the wagon to his barn, where I put the mare in a 
stall and asked him to feed and water her at noon. The 
farmer said that he could not do so without going in 
beside her, and he would not do that. I put her in 
another stall, where he would not have to do so. 
My friend and I started out for where the farmer had 
told us we would find some quail. On the way my 
friend asked, "Davison, how are you going to get 
home?" I answered, "Why, I am going to ride home, 
of course." He said that "he would not ride behind 
that horse." 
It was an ideal Indian summer day, and we had fine 
hunting. Going through an open woods, the dogs came 
to a point near my friend, who motioned me to come to 
him, when he pointed to the end of a rotten log in 
which lay a whole covey (at least a dozen) of quail. 
After watching them for a moment, he had his dog 
flush them. My friend made a double and I got one. 
We had gone but a few rods, when an enormous gray 
cat got up within a few feet of me and started up a 
tree. I did not know what it was, and I shot it before 
it was ten feet up the tree. We concluded that the cat 
was after the birds that we had found bunched in the 
log, and probably would have got more of them than 
we did had I not killed it. We found our birds in 
some wheat stubble, and my friend secured two. This 
was my second day's attempt at shooting on the wing, 
and my bag was not great. When we had finished the 
day's sport, I concluded the best shot I had made 
was at the cat. 
When we got to the barn where we had left the mare, 
my friend refused to go in the yard. I put the black 
dog under the seat of the wagon, brought out the mare 
and watered her at the pump, led her to the wagon 
and backed her into the thills and hitched her to the 
wagon as if nothing had ever happened. My friend 
walked out a quarter of a mile, when he put his dog in 
with the other and climbed in beside me; and that was 
not the last time he rode behind her for a day's 
shooting. 
After that experience I was afraid to leave the mare 
on the street on account of the dogs, and I did not 
conclude to invest in the black pointer breed of dogs. I 
secured a liver-colored pointer pup three months old 
and turned him in the barn to keep the mare company. 
At first I watched him when he went around the mare's 
heels, and also talked to Pet with a whip ni my hand, 
and all went well for a couple of weeks, when I noticed 
that the mare's tail was getting short, which I could 
not account for, as I knew she did not whip it off on 
the wagon or sleigh. 
One morning while going to the barn I heard the 
pup growlmg, and looking in the window, I saw the 
dog had the mare by the tail with his forefeet on her 
gambrels and was swinging from side to side. The 
mare seemed to enjoy it as well as the dog. I removed 
the dog to different quarters, and saved the rest of the 
mare's tail, and she never cared for dogs after that. 
In September, 1868, Mr. James Ludlum, of Pompton, 
N. J., came into my office and said that he had met a 
Lockport man in St. Lawrence county who told him 
that I had a horse that I wanted to sell. I told him that 
an 
the man was mistaken, as I did not want to sell her. 
Mr. Ludlnm 'then Wanted to know if I would sell her. 
I told him that was a different matter, as it would de- 
pend on whether I got my price, which was $500. Mr. 
L. wanted to see her, and then he wanted to drive her, 
to which I consented. I drew the wagon out of the 
barn, put the harness on the mare,, slapped her on the 
hip and said, "Go on. Pet, and she went out and 
backed into the thills. Mr. L. asked, "Is that the way 
she always does it?" When all was readv, Mr. L. said 
that he would want to drive her pretty hard, and that 
he might kill her. I asked him what time he intended 
to leave Lockport. He said, "At 2:30." I told him 
that if he could kill her in two hours to go ahead. We 
drove out in the country three miles, crossed to another 
road and back to the house, and the mare never 
walked a rod. Mr. Ludlum got out and looked the 
mare, over, and said, "She's all right. I am going West 
for two weeks, and will stop on my return and decide 
the matter." I did not expect to see him again; but 
before the" two weeks expired, he came and said he 
would take the mare. He afterward wrote asking if I 
knew of a mate to her. I did not. In the winter he 
wrote that he had found a good mate to Pet as for 
looks, but she could not "foot with her." By putting 
Pet in front he could drive them tandem in three 
minutes; that Pet was as good to him as if he owned 
Dexter, and that he would not take $S,ooo for hen In 
1881 Mr. Ludlum wrote that Pet was of age (twenty- 
one years), had long ago used up her mate, was yet 
as sound as a dollar; he was going to raise a colt from 
her, and if it was the right gender, was going to name 
it J. L. D. I never heard from him again, and I sus' 
pect that both he and Pet have long since passed away. 
I owned a number of horses within the next ten years 
after foolishly disposing of Pet, but for "an all-around 
horse" Pet was worth all of them. J. L. Davison. 
Lockport, N. Y. : ' , : 
Amid the Florida Keys. 
As ONE sails from Miami to Key West, 150 mileS, they 
rise and recede before: and behind seemingly without 
limit as to number. From Key West far down into the 
southern horizon one still sees them, and if he sails up 
the west coast he is still embayed amid their green in- 
tricacies. Their number has never been computed. They 
vary in size from Key Largo, thirty miles long and of 
an average width of a mile, to mere atolls in the watery 
waste, a rock, marsh grass, turtle feed, seaweed and a 
few mangroves that have gained a precarious foothold 
in the crevices of the rock. 
Not many of them are inhabited; not all are habitable, 
hut Key Largo, Key Eliot and some of the larger keys 
have quite extensive plantations of pineapples, cocoanuts 
and truck fields upon them. The neat, white painted 
houses of the planters are usually set in a grove of stately 
cocoanut palms facing the ocean, and have a long wharf 
extending out into the shallow water with sail boats and 
now and then a launch tied to them. Small trading 
schooners plying between Miami and Key West call 
sometimes two and three a week and furnish the only 
means of communication with the great world outside. 
On the uninhabited keys often are small huts thatched 
with palm leaves used by the wood cutters who come 
here in ancient sloops and schooners, cut the hard, gen- 
erally button wood, and carry it to Key West, where it 
forms almost the only fuel of the inhabitants. 
In the course of a three days' cruise among the keys 
we spent several hours on Key Elliot, one of the most 
populous and highly cultivated of the series. At the 
house of Mr. Edward Higgs, of Lemon City, Fla., we 
were courteously entertained by the three young men in 
charge of the plantation during the absence of the owner. 
There was a grove _ of 500 cocoanut trees with some 
18,000 cocoanuts in sight, but the specialty is pineapples, 
for which the keys are peculiarly well adapted. The 
cocoanut grows in great clusters at the base of the long, 
graceful leaves which put out at the summit of the 
.smooth, snake-like trunk, often sixty or seventy-five feet 
from the ground. As with the husk on, each nut is con- 
siderably larger than a man's head, the thirty or forty 
nuts borne by each tree form quite a rampart around the 
summit. The ripe fruit and green are often seen 
together. 
"Did you ever drink the milk of the green cocoanut"? 
asked our guide. "It is a never failing specific for 
Bright's disease and all diseases of the kidneys." 
He took a green nut, cut a hole in the base where it 
had been attached to the parent stem and inverting it 
poured out over a tumbler full of a clear, colorless liquid. 
It had a peculiar, slightly astringent taste but not un- 
pleasant. 
From the cocoanut grove we went for a visit to the 
pineries and truck fields. This took us directly across 
the_ key to the shores of Biscayne Bay. The surface is 
solid limestone or coral, not smooth, but sharp, corru- 
gated, serrated, edged, fissured. Walking over it was quite 
difficult. Not an iota of soil was visible except a few 
ounces of black vegetable mould in the crevices of the 
rock, yet in this unpromising field were growing the rnost 
luxuriant pineapples, tomatos, red peppers and germea 
corn we had ever seen. The tomato vines and red pep- 
pers were in bearing, and fairly loaded with fruit, yet 
cur guide said that not an ounce of fertilizer had been 
applied. The pineapple is half an air plant and no doubt 
draws nourishment from the atmosphere, but how the 
other plants named could find sufficient food in this bar- 
ren rock was one of the mysteries of nature. Mr. Higgs, 
whom_ we saw later at his home in Lemon City, told us 
that pineapples would exhaust the soil in about five years, 
but that other crops could be grown indefinitely. His 
explanation was that the rock was about 75 per cent, 
hme and organic matter and 10 per cent, phosphates, and 
that on this plant life thrived. Pineapples, he said, 
would render land worthless for other crops. 
_ The rock is soft and pliable and is broken up for cul- 
tivation. 
On the bay side was a long dock with sailboats tied to 
it, and a beautiful prospect across the shallow bay to 
Cutler on the mainland, some fifteen miles distant. This 
bay now affords the finest ground for sponge fishing on 
the coast and. numerous sails of "spongers" plying their 
