AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 
145 
COMMUNICATION FROM SUSQUEHANNA COUNTY. 
WITH A DRAWING OF TROUT. 
Dear E., 
I received a few days ago, from Messrs. Doughty, the 
four numbers which they have published of their “ Cabinet 
of Natural History and American Rural Sports,” accompa- 
nied by a letter, which is entitled to a very courteous an- 
swer. They suppose that I could render them some assist- 
ance in their work; but what time have I to write, except, 
currente calarno, in the way I usually talk to you, pen in 
hand ? I am not acquainted, personally, with either of 
those gentlemen; but I know perfectly well the style and 
manner of one of them, in his beautiful landscapes, and 
could point out one of his pieces among an hundred others.. 
I wish the editors every success which they can desire; but 
how can I assist them in their present work ? To be sure, 
I could tell some hunting stories for their book; but many 
around you could do the same, as all our countrymen are 
marksmen; yet, it is probable, that, of your citizen-shoot- 
ers, the most expert at bagging woodcock and snipe, have 
never shot, as I have, an elk when at his full long trot, just 
as, from left to right, he crossed a small opening in the 
thicket, with a rifle ball, so exactly through the heart, as to 
bleed him to death before he could take twenty steps after 
the trigger was drawn; and then, with the assistance of a 
companion of the forest, stretched his skin on a pole, at- 
tached to two forked sticks, in time to form a shelter from 
a severe thunder storm, and couched myself, dry and com- 
fortable, under it, while a deluge of rain fell unceasingly 
throughout the ensuing night. And, perhaps, you have no 
one near you, unless it may be Mr. T. R. Peale, who could 
say, as I could, that he eat a slice of a buffalo, admirably 
roasted, in fifteen minutes after the rifle was discharged 
which killed the animal. But Mr. P. must know how ex- 
peditiously hungry hunters can prepare a meal, without 
thinking of Macbeths advice, 
“ If it were done, when ’tis done, then ’twere well 
It were done quickly,” 
which, I believe, has been quoted in the Cours Gastrono- 
mique. How well Peale or Doughty could sketch the 
scene! One person is kindling a fire of dry sticks and 
leaves; another, having cut the skin just over the hump, is 
slicing with his scalping knife, that delicate morsel so well 
known to all hunters in the “far west;” while a third is 
employed in fixing the pieces on slender rods, like skewers, 
and sticking one end into the ground, the other being sloped 
at a proper angle to the clear blaze, and almost touching the 
flame. I should like to know which of your restaurateurs 
could furnish a dish equal to that repast — the side of the 
piece sliced away, when roasted to the depth of half an 
inch, and while that was, as novel writers say, “ discussed,” 
a new surface was presented to the fire — the noble animal 
that furnished the meal, lying invitingly by the side of the 
party, his dark head with its curled hair and short horns, 
presenting, like the black bull’s head of Ravenswood, with 
his “I bide my time;” but serving as a better omen to the 
partakers of the feast. Some fastidious persons may turn 
from this as an Abyssinian repast: but there is no squeam- 
ishness of that kind to be found in the prairies. Ask Mr. 
T. R. P. whose looks bespeak him a very gentlemanly as 
well as amiable man, what he thinks of the relish of the buf- 
falo hump, eaten in that way, in the western prairies. I 
assure you, that it would not require the appetite of Gudgel, 
the fat caterer for the Abbey, in the Hunt of Gildon. The 
boar Crowdie would have been nothing to the bos ferus — 
the bos ferus! why, that is the phrase of Cooper’s Dr. Bat- 
tius in his prairie! What an abominable caricature he has 
made of that Dr. Bat! a “ Vespertilio horribilis,” indeed! 
I am mortified and vexed at Cooper for losing so fine an op- 
portunity of displaying a naturalist in all his glory. How 
a botanist might have raved ! How a geologist might have 
ranted! — and yet, all been true to nature. Most absurd 
Dr. Bat! Cooper would never have suffered you on ship- 
board; or if by any means you had got there, long Tom 
Coffin would have thrown you overboard with as little com- 
punction as he would feel at harpooning a whale. 
Do you know * * * *? Perhaps not; for he endea- 
vours to keep out of sight. He likes to see every thing; 
but to avoid being seen himself. Almost infantine in his 
simplicity — simplex munditiis emphatically. Impassion- 
ed only in his particular pursuit. If he met Venus, attired 
by the Graces, walking in Chesnut street, he would take no 
notice of her; or if, by any possible chance, he did observe 
her, he would think her but so-so; yet in the seclusion of 
his study — (I am almost tempted to describe his study to 
you) — he can write in the fervid style of a lover, about “ a 
most exquisite collection of reptiles!” Ah! I wish * * * * 
had sat for “his picture! Instead of the rude bistre daub 
of Dr. Bat, what beautiful drawing might have been ex- 
pected! What strong lights and shadows, with here and 
there a demi-tint, or neutral colour, slightly appearing 
through them, would have been thrown on the canvass by 
the painter — in general, a master of his art. I wish you 
knew ■?;•***. His plain face, and his plain garb, would 
not attract your eyes. You might be in his company for a 
month and take no notice of him; and he would take none of 
you, if he thought you were of the common herd — that is, 
engaged only in the common business, or common amuse- 
ments of life — the ignobile vulgus, as he considers them, 
great as well as small; for the wealth of “Rothschild’s or 
the Barings” is nothing in his view, except as it might be 
