AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 
43 
We have three modes of hunting Deer, each varying, in 
some slight degree, in the different states and districts. 
The first is termed Still Hunting , and is by far the most 
destructive. The second is called Fire-light Hunting , 
and is next in its exterminating effects. The third, which 
may be looked upon as a mere amusement, is named 
Driving. Although many Deer are destroyed by this 
latter method, it is not by any means so pernicious as the 
others. These methods I shall describe separately. 
Still Hunting is followed as a kind of trade by most of 
our frontier men. To be practised with success, it re- 
quires great activity, an expert management of the rifle, 
and a thorough knowledge of the forest, together with an 
intimate acquaintance with the habits of the Deer, not only 
at different seasons of the year, hut also at every hour of 
the day, as the hunter must be aware of the situations 
which the game prefers, and in which it is most likely to 
be found, at any particular time. 
Illustrations of any kind require to be presented in the 
best possible light. We will therefore suppose that we 
are now about to follow the true hunter , as the Still Hunter 
is also called, through the interior of the tangled woods, 
across morasses, ravines, and such places, where the game 
may prove more or less plentiful, even should none be 
found there in the first instance. We will allow our 
hunter all the agility, patience, and care, which his occu- 
pation requires, and will march in his rear, as if we were 
spies, watching all his motions. 
His dress, you observe, consists of a leather hunting- 
shirt, and a pair of trowsers of the same material. His 
feet are well moccasined; he wears a belt round his waist; 
his heavy rifle is resting on his brawny shoulder; on one 
side hangs his ball-pouch, surmounted by the horn of an 
ancient Buffalo, once the terror of the herd, but now con- 
taining a pound of the best gunpowder; his butcher-knife 
is scabbarded in the same strap, and behind is a tomahawk, 
the handle of which has been thrust through his girdle. 
He walks with so rapid a step, that probably few men 
could follow him, unless for a short distance, in their 
anxiety to witness his ruthless deeds. He stops, looks at 
the flint of his gun, its priming, and the leather cover of 
the lock, then glances his eye towards the sky, to judge of 
the course most likely to lead him to the game. 
The heavens are clear, the red glare of the morning sun 
gleams through the low T er branches of the lofty trees, the 
dew hangs in pearly drops at the top of every leaf. Al- 
ready has the emerald hue of the foliage been converted 
into the more glowing tints of our autumnal months. A slight 
frost appears on the fence-rails of his little corn-field. As 
he proceeds, he looks to the dead foliage under his feet, in 
search of the well known traces of a buck’s hoof. Now he 
bends toward the ground, on which something has attracted 
his attention. See! he alters his course, increases his 
speed, and will soon reach the opposite hill. Now, he moves 
with caution, stops at almost every tree, and peeps forward 
as if already within shooting distance of the game. He ad- 
vances again, but how very slowly! He has reached the 
declivity, upon which the sun shines in all its growing 
splendour. But mark him! he takes the gun from his 
shoulder, has already thrown aside the leathern cover of 
the lock, and is wiping the edge of his flint with his tongue. 
Now he stands like a monumental figure, perhaps mea- 
suring the distance that lies between him and the game, 
which he has in view. His rifle is slowly raised — the re- 
port follows — and he runs. Let us run also. Shall I 
speak to him, and ask him the result of this first essay ? 
Assuredly, reader, for I know him well. 
“Pray, friend, what have you killed?” for to say, 
“ what have you shot at ?” might imply the possibility of 
his having missed, and so might hurt his feelings. — 
“ Nothing but a buck.” “ And where is it?” “ Oh, it 
has taken a jump or so, but I settled it, and will soon be 
with it. My ball struck, and musthave gone through his 
heart.” We arrive at the spot, where the animal had laid 
itself down among the grass in a thicket of grape-vines, 
sumachs, and spruce-bushes, where it intended to repose 
during the middle of the day. The place is covered with 
blood, the hoofs of the Deer have left deep prints in the 
ground as it bounced in the agonies produced by its wound; 
but the blood that has gushed from its side, discloses the 
course which it has taken. We soon reach the spot. 
There lies the buck, its tongue out, its eye dim, its breath 
exhausted; it is dead. The hunter draws his knife, cuts 
the buck’s throat almost asunder, and prepares to skin it. 
For this purpose he hangs it upon the branch of a tree. 
When the skin is removed, he cuts off the hams, and aban- 
doning the rest of the carcass to the wolves and vultures, 
reloads his gun, flings the venison, enclosed by the skin, 
upon his back, secures it with a strap, and walks off in 
search of more game, well knowing that, in the immediate 
neighbourhood, another at least is to be found. 
Had the weather been warmer, the hunter would have 
sought for the buck along the shadowy side of the hills. 
Had it been the spring season, he would have led us 
through some thick cane-brake, to the margin of some re- 
mote lake, where you would have seen theDeerimmersed to 
his head in the water, to save his body from the tormenting 
attacks of moschettoes. Had winter overspread the earth 
with a covering ofsnow he would have searched the low damp 
woods, where the mosses and lichens, on which at that 
period the Deer feeds, abound, the trees being generally 
crusted with them for several feet from the ground. At 
