B06 
FOREST AND STREAM 
[Dec. 23, ipos. 
FOR CHRISTMAS READING. 
A Fox Hunt on the Picket Line. 
It was Christmas Eve of the 3^ear 1869 when a number 
of guests were gathered at Lochinvar, the home of the 
writer, as was the custom in Southern plantation homes 
in the olden time 'W'hen guests were assembled tO' spend 
the merry Christmas Day. On this occasion Col. Harry 
Rodman, of New York, was visiting his old friends of 
the South, when one of the ladies of the party remarked : 
“We must not depart from that good old custom of hav- 
ing Christmas stories to-night. Colonel Rodman, can’t 
you tell us a legend or a war romance?” she added, turn- 
ing to him. 
“I know very few legends,” replied the Colonel, “but 
since you request it, I can tell you a little episode of the 
Civil War, and how we spent a Christmas Day in the 
army. It is a story of a fox hunt on the picket line. 
“We were stationed in winter quarters around the vil- 
lage of C., and the Confederate forces were also in winter 
quarters a few miles below us. It was Christmas morn- 
ing in the year 1863 that I was on picket with my regi- 
ment between the two armies. It was a beautiful morn- 
ing, and as I stood by the bivouac fire I could hear the 
distant cry of hounds slowly trailing a fox, and the occa- 
sional cheer of hunters. I stood listening until I heard 
the hounds break forth in full cry. On they came nearer 
and nearer, until they passed through our lines. I was so 
excited that I shouted with delight, and all along the line 
of our pickets a cheer went up that extended back to the 
main army, where a rousing cheer from the soldiers in 
camp turned the fox back until it passed through our 
lines toward the Confederate, when the yells of the sol- 
diers turned it back again. 
“It had been running back and forth when the relief 
picket came and I sent mr^ command into quarters while 
I went out beyond our lines with a squad of men to' en- 
joy the sport. 
“We had not gone far when a jolly Rebel boy ran into 
our squad and was captured before he was aware of our 
presence. I learned from him that his regimen had just 
been relieved from picket and his colonel with a squad of 
soldiers was, like myself, enjoying the chase, which had 
been gotten up for his benefit by a gentleman in the neigh- 
borhood who- owned a pack of hounds. He was a bright 
little fellow, with merry blue e}^es ; but I could see his lips 
quiver and his eyes fill with tears when I remarked : ‘I 
am sorry, my little man, to have to spoil your Christmas 
frolic by sending you to prison.’ 
“ ‘It is a hard core,’ he replied, ‘and we were going to 
have a hop to-night in the village, and my girl will be so 
disappointed when her escort fails to put in an appear- 
ance. Say, Colonel,’ he added, brightening up, ‘can’t you 
give me a chance to escape? Give me a little start, and 
let me make a break, and I’ll take the chances of your 
shooting me.’ 
“I felt really sorry for the young fellow, and wishing 
to test him, said ; ‘Young man, if I let you go will you 
promise to return to our pickets to-morrow and surrender 
yourself?’ 
“ ‘No,’ he answered promptly, ‘that would be like de- 
sertion, and there is no two to one bet that I won’t escape 
yet before I see inside of a prison.’ 
“‘I cannot trust you out of sight then?’ I remarked. 
“ ‘Not one inch,’ was the honest reply. 
“ ‘I like your pluck, my little fellow,’ said I. ‘How old 
are you?’ 
“ ‘Sixteen next June,’ he answered. 
“‘What are you doing in the army, then?’ 
“ ‘Fighting for Dixie land ; and I intend to fight as long 
as there is one' of us left,’ said he defiantly. 
“‘What is the number of forces in your camps?’ I 
asked. 
“ ‘Something less than a million,’ he replied. 
“ ‘That’s not answering my question,’ I added, sternly. 
“‘Neither do. I intend to answer it,’ he replied fiercely. 
“‘You forget' that you are in my power,’ said I. 
“ ‘I don’t forget it, neither do I fear it,’ said the plucky 
little fellow.- Tshaw!’ he added contemptuously, ‘you 
can kill me, but you can’t scare me. I’m . a Southern sol- 
dier, and I’ll die ten thousand deaths before you extort 
one word from me regarding' the strength of our forces 
or anything else I don’t wish tO' tell.’ 
“ ‘To what regiment do you belong?’ I asked. 
“‘To the Second Mississippi Cavalry,' he,; announced 
proudly. . , , ; 
“‘Will you tell me your colonel’s name?’ 
“‘Yes; he is Colonel .’ 
“Imagine m.y surprise when he mentioned my old friend 
Pious Jeems here. 
“ ‘He is one of my best friends,’ I said. 
“ ‘You might not think so if you met him in that blue 
coat,’ said he with a sneer. 
“ ‘When you see him again tell him you met Col. Henry 
Rodman, of New York, and that I wished to be kindly 
remembered and would like to meet him some day under 
flag of truce.’ 
“ ‘I will deliver your message very soon,’ he muttered. 
“I did not notice the covert remark, for just then the 
hounds again came in our direction and attracted our un- 
divided attention for a nfoment, when the ^oung Rebel 
bolted. I knocked up the gun of a trooper as he turned 
to fire on him. ‘Flold,’ said I, ‘don’t shoot. He is a brave 
boy and deserves his liberty. Let him go. He asked for 
a chance and he shall have it.’ 
“The pack now came rushing past us, and filled with 
the excitement of the chase, I dashed after them, and 
passing through a thicket got separated from my men. 
As I emerged into an opening I saw some forty paces dis- 
tant coming out of the thicket on the opposite side a 
Confederate officer riding a handsome black charger. I 
halted and placed my hand on my holster. The officer 
grasped his pistol at the same moment. 
“ ‘Well, Yank,’ said he, ‘I suppose we will have to fight 
it out by ourselves ; but I wish you had waited until this 
fox chase was over.’ 
“I recognized the voice and familiar form of my friend 
here. 
“‘If that’s Pious Jeems, he and Harry Rodman can 
manage some better way than killing each other,’ I re- 
plied, advancing slowly. 
“‘Harry Rodman by all that’s holy!” he exclaimed, 
dropping the pistol into its holster and grasping my hand. 
‘‘We exchanged a few friendly greetings when I asked: 
‘Have you any of j^our men with you?’ 
‘‘ ‘Yes, I have a squad of about a dozen men with me.’ 
“ ‘So have I, and lest they meet and come to blows, 
which they will be sure to do, let’s ride forward and get 
the two squads together and finish the hunt as friends.’ 
“The proposal was heartily agreed to and we were not a 
moment too soon, for our little e.scaped prisoner had 
fallen in with his comrades and notified them of our 
proximity, and they were collecting to make a charge on 
my squad, who had discovered them and were drawn up 
in line of battle ready to meet the charge. 
“Pious and I rode forward together and each took 
our position in front of our commands ; and as the situa- 
tion was explained, a rousing cheer went up from both 
sides. 
“It was a touching scene to see those bronzed veterans 
who a moment before w'ere ready to rush together in 
mortal combat, shaking hands and expressing the warm- 
est admiration for each other. 
“We agreed to finish the chase together, and if the fox 
chanced to pass the line of either army the party into 
whose lines they passed should protect the other from 
harm. Pious and I dashed off, and the boys in blue and 
the boys in gray v/ith a wild cheer entered with a new 
zest into the spirit of the chase. Over hill and dale we 
went, shouting and yelling with joy, until the fox was 
run into and caught, the brush being won by our little 
Rebel prisoner of an hour before. 
“After the chase was over I sent one of my men to 
headquarters for a supply of liquors, eggs and sugar, 
which, fortunately, I had on hand, to make a Christmas 
egg nog ; and there under the trees by a bivouac fire we 
awaited their return. Pious had sent off for his box of 
good things that had been sent to him from Lochinvar 
for his Christmas dinner; and a jollier Christmas Day 
was never passed by soldiers fighting under different 
flags. After enjoying our dinner tO' the utmost, the men 
divided into small groups and amused themselves in card 
playing and telling stories of adventures, each party 
vieing in courtesies and in compliments to the prowess 
of the other. 
“Pious and I conversed long on the pleasures of the 
past and the prospects of the future. We agreed that 
our regimental battle flags should be distinguished by a 
streamer of white bunting so* we might know each other 
and avoid any effusion of blood unless when duty com- 
pelled us to ignore all ties, except loyalty to the cause 
each had espoused; and we further agreed thaLif any 
member of our commands should be captured, a letter 
addressed to the commanding officer on the side of the 
captor, making known the fact, should be promptly at- 
tended to, and his wants supplied by the side into* whose 
hands he might fall, and the money advanced by one regi- 
ment for a member of the other, should stand as a debt 
of honor to be paid on presentation of the amount fur- 
nished under a flag of truce or otherwise, as the emer- 
gency of the situation might permit. This agreement 
made comfortable members of each regiment whom the 
fate of war consigned to a prison life during the years 
of strife that followed; and I do not_ believe there was a 
soldier in either command who would not have sacrificed 
his wearing apparel and gone bareheaded and barefooted 
before one of those obligations should have gone unpaid. 
Ever after this, when our men faced each other on the 
picket lines, it was their delight to- exchange friendly 
greetings instead of firing at each other, as had been 
their, custom before. If the soldiers of the two armies 
could have been permitted to meet and settle their diffi- 
culty in a friendly social way the politicians would have 
been compelled to change their tactics, or they would 
have lost their occupation; for whenever the soldiers 
met in friendly converse under flags of truce or along 
the picket lines, there was a mutual admiration for each 
other’s prowess that readily ripened into friendship; and 
it comlnucs the same to this day. 
“At the North the most inveterate haters of the South 
are the home guard heroes who never slept by a bivouac 
fire on the frozen earth, under the cold stars on a wintry 
night, or lived on hard tack and jerked beef, or went 
hungry on long and weary marches; and vice versa — the 
Southern home general is more vindictive against the 
North than the soldier who bared his breast to the storm 
of battle and fought until ‘Dixie’s hopes and his were 
o’er.’ ” 
The ladies clapped their hands with delight when the 
gallant Colonel finished his story of “A Fox Hunt on the 
Picket Lines.” Pious Jeems. 
Seeing Things Through the Window 
It’s a blustery, blizzard-like afternoon. The snow has 
been drifting badly, piling up in convenient places, and, 
after every gust of wind, leaving the air filled with girat- 
ing particles. 
The thought of woods and fields being mantled under 
one great snowy blanket was not a pleasant thing to con- 
template, and as evening came on we still looked out the 
window. Visions of other days came back to* us. A 
southerly-exposed side hill, grass-grown and sparsely cov- 
ered with lady-like white birches, with a small hemlock o_f 
the Christmas-tree variety, interspersed here and there. 
It is well on in the fall ; the grass has been browned and 
cured by the sun, and above it is spread a carpet of leaves 
freshly fallen from the trees above. 
The flight of woodcock is on, great, brown, plump birds, 
who, as they flush, stand not on the order of their going 
but cork-screw with incredible speed in and out and be- 
tween the trees. No more the lazy summer gait as the 
bird leaves one spring hole to leisurely seek another. 
Quick the eye and rapid the action of the trigger finger to 
down one of these knightly birds. What ideal cover and 
how glorious the afternoon October sun shines down 
upon us ! 
We look again through the window and see a swale 
weir timbered and -brush-grown, with a brook flowing 
peacefully at its bottom. There are partridges here. One 
man takes the bottom of the swale, the other two taking 
positions well in advance upon the top of the swale to 
right and left. What thunder the birds make as they 
flush from beneath a hemlock and curve to the right or 
left toward the woods on each side of the swale. Mark ! 
mark! And so it goes until the swale has been well 
hunted to where it comes to level ground where wheat 
stubble and brier fence corners fairly scents the air with 
quail. They have been feeding and have laid up in the 
fence corner. How the dog holds them, or, being com- 
fortable, how they hate to leave their sunning quarters. 
But with a roar away they go to pitch and scatter in a 
nearby woods. Before we can get within gun shot of 
them they already have begun to call co-ee, co-ee, co-ee. 
The dog finds them and those that get away seek refuge 
along a hedge where the dogs pick them up one by one 
and stand them staunchly. And beyond the fence is a spring- 
hole with much wet ground around it. Why not an' Eng- 
lish snipe? Will try. And before a depression in’ the. 
grass the dog draws up and presently a pair of long-billed 
birds dart out with an erratic flight and a scape! scape! 
that tells the story only too plainly — a brother and fit 
companion piece to the woodcock. Great is the sports- 
man who can make continuous doubles on these erratic 
birds. They have a way of “flying out of it,” exasperat- 
ing in the extreme. We look westward and find the lakes 
mantled with wild rice with a ridge and cover between, 
over which the birds must pass from one feeding ground 
to another. If the day is clear and calm the great fat 
mallards and lightning-like teal fly high and warily avoid 
the concealed sportsman, but if the wind blows, and espe- 
cially if there is sleet or rain in the air, how they come ! 
Flying low and in a continuous line, paying attention to 
nothing and seeing nothing. The winds cut you to the 
bone and the rain seeps down your back, but as long as 
the ducks are flying and you have shells left to shoot the 
weather does not count. Honk ! honk ! honk ! How they 
come flying low and circling the lake before they alight. 
And as some of their number drop from their ranks they 
again circle and present themselves most favorably to the 
concealed hunters. A second fusilade warns them away, 
and with parting honks they leave for pastures anew. 
The September sun has already dried the dew from the 
prairie grass. The dogs are ranging nicely as we trot the 
horses along through the long grass. Steady! The birds 
are here! How well the dogs stand and back! Away 
