372 
FOREST AND STREAM 
compels me to say that he did not distinguish himself in the 
culinary line. In fact, like most of his race ho was incor- 
rigibly lazy, and was perfectly contented to let us do his 
■work. Blit he had his good points, one of which was that 
he could cook a beefsteak to perfection, whereby hangs a 
tale. 
Although an ardent, persevering, and patient fisherman, 
I am not fond of fish; for, though I eat them with pleas- 
ure, especially if there be nothing else in the larder, yet I 
am constitutionally opposed to the real enjoyment of fish 
as au article of diet. Whether it is because if a bone, 
large or small, gets into my mouth it almost produces a 
spasm, or not, it is yet a lamentable fact that I cannot thor- 
oughly enjoy fish. But I do like a nicely broiled beef- 
steak; it is my especial weakness. I remember that when 
I returned fiom a four years’ tour of duty in California, 
where oysters ouly grow in cans, (or did until lately,) my 
wife and myself on our arrival in New York went to one 
of the fashionable restaurants for lunch. “The little Ma- 
dame" is foud of oysters, so she ordered some in the style 
she liked best. After looking the bill of fare carefully 
through, and finding no delicacy which I particularly de- 
sired, save oue, I iguored the whole line of fresh mackerel, 
bass, halibut, lobsters, crabs, oysters, cl id omne germ*, and 
ordered it — a beefsteak. 
“Oh, Doctor!" said she, “are you not ashamed? Y*ou 
have been in California for years,' and never eveu saw a re- 
spectable oyster there, and here vou are ordering a beef- 
steak. It is positively dreadful!" 
I meekly held down my head, but I had and enjoyed my 
beefsteak nevertheless. 
To return. Our contraband could cook a beefsteak, and 
the following morning when I awoke, (I was usually the 
latest to bed and the latest to rise,) ray nostrils were greeted 
with an unexpected, familiar odor. A beefsteak was broil- 
ing on the embers. What a treat for poor me. 
“Ilurry up, Doctor, your steak is almost done.” sung out 
Capt. B. 0 
“Beefsteak!" exclaimed I; “where under the sun did you 
find a beefsteak in this benighted country?" 
“Came up on the night train; hurry up!" was the laconic 
response. 
My kind friend, the Captain, knowing my weakness had 
written a note, which he stuck on a stick by the track’ and 
as the train dashed by it was taken by one of the employes 
and the icsult was that on the next train up came some nice 
steaks, which were thrown off to us as it flew by llow 
I did enjoy that breakfast! Beefsteak is positively super- 
lative ! 
On a fishing excursion or a hunt, like in a garrison, om 
day is like another, yet every day is different. The ’inci 
dents vary. One has had on a big fish that broke Ills rot 
and line; another had a glorious nibble; a third fell over 
board while he was reaching out for some floating object, 
or, as I told him, “while admiring t he reflection of his 
beautiful phiz in the water"— nature’s mirror. Par paren 
thesis, he is a very handsome man. Another shows a capi- 
tal string of fish, and tells about the sequestered nook or 
deep hole where he caught them. And so the days go by, 
each one so full of health, so crowded with enjoyment— 
the very toil is pleasure. 
About noon of the second day a loud shout in the bushes 
proclaimed the advent of Mr. P., a thriving planter in "the 
neighborhood, who, hearing that our tents were not many 
miles off, mounted his horse and rode over, lie was well 
known to aU the party, and .gave us a cordial welcome tj 
his bailiwick. Of course we had a talk and then a fish. 
Finally, when he was about to depart, he insisted that one 
of us should return with him to his house, some two miles 
off. and he would tell his good lady we were there and 
make arrangements to spend the night with us and fish the 
nets. After much talk it was decided that I should go 
bo, like the Knights of the Temple in the bygone days we 
started off, not forgetting to take a goodly string of fish for 
his “home folks.” I had a very pleasant visit, saw some 
very fine Jersey and Alderney cows, a fine Mcssinger stal- 
lion, aud a farm kept in such order as would captivate the 
eye of our best farmers in New York, Pennsylvania, or 
New Jersey. Graced by the lovely young wife of my 
friend— for here in the heart of the hill country of Georgia 
I found the charming daughter of oue of oGr Northern 
railroud kings, who earned the keys and ruled her house- 
hold with p.n effieieney and a grace that her Southern sis- 
ters will find hard to equal and cannot excel— a pretty 
tasteful house half buried in fragrant vines and shrubs’, 
stood on au elevation about the centre of the plantation 
surrounded by gardens and with neat farm buildings at 
suitable distances. 1 was most cordially welcomed to the 
domicile, and passed the few hours of my stay most agree- 
ahlv. Toward sundown we left his hospitable mansion, 
and, after a rapid nde over a by no means smooth road, 
reached camp in the gloaming just in time for supper. 
That night the train brought an addition to our party- 
Major H. and Judge C. than whom two more pleasant gen- 
tlernen could hardly be found. They are both ardent fol- 
lowers of Father lzaak, aud, scorning the nets, except 
about meal time, fished most diligently, and with more suc- 
cess than any of the rest — with the rod 
The next day our pleasant friend, JIr! P left us, with a 
goodly allowance of fash for “home consumption." We 
regretted his loss but "business of importance" called him 
away. e fished hard all day, and in the evening returned 
to camp with varied fortunes. A hearty supper aud a sooth 
lug cigar soon placed us on good terms “with all the world 
aud the rest of mankind.” Our friend, the Judge, had a 
weakness for whist ; so betweeu rur visits to the nets we 
had a rubber, in which, I regret to state, the Judge and his 
partner did not come off first best. Just here f wish to 
?P e n ak under in -y Personal observa- 
had be! J rd ° f r “booting trout" (bass,) and during 
the morning, while Mr P. and myself were at the upper 
portion of the lake fishing with live bait we saw a 
and . /atLcnin S his borse. deliberately 
climb a tree which overhung the water. In his baud lie 
carried a rifle, one of the old-fashioned, long-barreled kind 
fork^of the Sl \ Ugly sconcing himself in a 
“Snoot trout,” he replied. 
do you shoot them?" said L 
do you gel thorn oul allcr you skoot thorn?” I 
‘•Strip and wade in for ’em," was his rep ly, 
Some days lie got three or four, sometimes none, but 
generally enough for “a mess." I afterward learned that 
in this part of the country it is a favorite amusement, and 
prowess in that line counts ns much as if directed agaiust 
ordinary game. Shortly after we left the reverberating 
echoes of his rifle told us of the success which crowned the 
patience of our cracker friend. The time generally selected 
by these people— and I regret to state" the uneducated 
crackers are not the only ones who indulge in this sport, 
hut also those who ought to know better — is when the fish 
seek the shallow portions of the lake to spawn. Perched 
in the trees they can readily see the fish in the clear water, 
and nicely calculating the angle — shooting under them — the 
bullet or buckshot stuns the fish and causes it to float help- 
lessly on the surface, and before it can recover the shooter 
has descended the tree, waded in, and secured his prey. 
During the hot days of Summer, too, the fish lazily float 
on the surface, and they are then also much sought for. 
Very large ones are often thus killed. A son of the owner 
of this lake shot one which weighed over fifteen pounds. 
I trust the brothers of the rod and gun in Georgia will look 
to it and prevent this most unsportsmanlike method of 
faking. 
Alas! all things must have an end, and our time drew to 
a close. On the fourth day we fished until noon, then tak- 
ing out, drying and repairing the nets we struck camp, and 
packing up everything, we removed all the luggage to the 
side of the track and waited for the train. Meanwhile, we 
had several hours to spare, so we took a thorough bath, and 
had a fine swim in the lake, and packingonr fishiug clothes, 
appeared once more clad en regie. Finding the time hang- 
ing rather heavily on his hands, the Judge, not satisfied 
with having been badly beaten at wliist the previous night, 
challenged me to a friendly game of “seven up.” 1 need 
hardly say that 1 was very unfortunate; for the Judge beat 
me scandalously. Of course, it was the fault of the cards. 
It always is. But the Judge was elated. Flushed with 
success lie resolved to beat his other whist antagonist — and 
at. “old sledge.” Now, Gen. H.isa very quiet man, but 
be has been around the world considerably, and with open 
eyes. After much persuasion he consented to give the 
Judge liis “revenge;" so they spread a blanket in the shade 
and went at it. Something was the matter with the cards; 
for from some cause the Judge was unsuccessful. It was 
positively wonderful how many jacks the General turned, 
and, strange to relate, it was singular how few trumps the 
Judge held. Again and again he tried it, but with the same 
result. There was surely “a heathen Chinee” somewhere. 
The little grove rang with laughter at the Judge's discom- 
fiture until the train coming up, (through the kindness of 
the Superintendent of the road it had orders to pick us up 
where we were,) we got aboard and bid adieu to the spot 
where we had spent so many lmppy hours. As the train 
dashed around t lie curve, looking thoughtfully out of the 
window and taking the last glimpse of the smoke of our 
smouldering camp lire, the Juclge observed, “I cannot un- 
derstand it, General, how you turned so many jacks." A 
pleasant ride through the shadows brought us to Atlanta, 
and midnight found us all snug iu our beds — at home. The 
“camp fish" was over. Monmouth. 
For FortJtl and Stream. 
OUT WITH THE TIDE. 
M Y little Water Witch has been safely harbored during 
all the Winter storms under the South veranda, 
within hearing of the rude waters, but beyond their rougli 
reach. Lust Autumn, when November winds were raging, 
aud our bay was lashed to a maddening fury that threat 
ened all tender craft, I helped to curry her over the fallen 
leaves and laid her there, and by her side the idle paddles, 
"One o’er one 
Like folded arms when the work is done.” 
Many times during the Winter 1 huve gone down on my 
knees in the snow and peered through the stained lattice 
at my little darling, as she lay there'like a caged animal, 
her gay color gone and her saucy pride very much low- 
ered. But now that Spring has come, I have called John 
from his pea plantings in the gin-den, where the May sun 
has been heating on his bended back, and together we car- 
ried the pet down the hill and placed her, keel upward, 
upon two tame-looking wooden horses. I have thrown 
the saddle on Julia and cantered over to the country store 
and purchased paint, putty hall and caulking iron. 'I have 
bought for myself a pair of glazed overalls, in which I 
feel the dignity of labor and the necessity for keeping 
them on by tight strapping about iny waist. How many 
glad hours I have had down at the water’s edge upou a 
carpet of seu weed and grasses, geltiug my little vessel 
ready for service, and, like Kobinson Crime, I have done 
it all myself. Yet there is something trviog and tiresome 
in the extreme about boat painting; an aching right arm a 
sore, complaining hack, a feverish touch of pTiin about 
one s body. I should not care to assist at paint dressing 
the sides of a French man of war, or a Kussiuu frigate or 
a Dutch double decker, or even the long, sleek sides of a 
gondola, that floats swau-like along the streets of Venice 
A row boat is a joy forever, unless she leaks. Even with 
this symptom of grave depravity we do not set her adrift 
to drive hither and thither on a stormy sea, a wreck past 
hope, without a hand raised or a nail driven to save. Nay 
we have the caulking iron, the lamp wick, the putty Imfl 
and the mallet to win our darling back to usefulness once 
more. What a mouthful for the hungry monster, our little 
pet swallowed in an instant with a greedy relish and a 
wicked haste, aud the treacherous, rude waves smack their 
white lips over the dainty tidbit they have tasted, and the 
sea prowls hungrily for more prey, unsatisfied and insu- 
tiable as ever. Looking at the sea in this light, it seems a 
beast with baek ever raised, cat-like, for a spring to devour 
at a gulpli, or to worry and torment, its victim. With- 
out, doubt, though it is a near neighbor of mine, that has 
home the weight of my friendship evenly these many 
days— without doubt the sea has a cat-like nature, a touch 
of the wild eat beneath its swelling breast. It crawls and 
crouehcB at our feet in the sort Summer days, purriiie low 
and monotonously, all the while licking and lapping at the 
JhitP.M- 0I< L t j led ?®' . lll ° h° U8 « cat, licks and laps his 
white sides. Naturally it gains our confidence, and like a 
great playful pet we sit by its side, tease it, and fret it 
with pebbles tossed into its mouth, and spend many bright 
quick-going hours upon its hack. It is lamb like and gen- 
tle; but provoke it, let a voice from tho cast address ft in 
coarse tones, ike one ordering it to lie down, and in an in- 
u Pl. ,u dec ‘P throut roars sullenly and 
threateningly, like a liou at bay, aud out where the hun- 
gry waves run high, their while teeth show fiercely. It 
charmed a while ago; now it awes and frightens. Ah! but 
1 love the sea, so 1 lovo the water of our liny. It fan* been 
friend and physician. When it was lonely on the hill, 
coming to it I found it singing or talkative; as a friend it 
has delighted me, borne with my wavs and moods patient- 
ly and politely ; has advanced my interests, amused and 
entertained me for hours, and never at a wrong moment 
stranded me high and dry, as some friends in need huve 
done. As physician, it has given me back my strength, 
reddened my blood, broadened my chest, and cunningly 
whetted my appetite till an edge came as keen and sensitive 
as that of a Damascus blade — an appetite such as u gener- 
ous housewife only should have dealings with. 
Then the day came for the launch— a day all rich with 
sun and all blue with sky. A saucy south wind gives no 
rest to the young foliage, and turns the smile of our hay 
into a white, hearty laugh. The sea has a merry face, iii 
the soft haze of the offing a hundred liny sheets dip. Com- 
merce in miniature, but not in minimum. Every cedar 
bush along tho bluff grows red with feathery breasted rob- 
ins, with throats opened. A noisy lot of sea gulls hang in 
clusters overhead and watch me. Possibly 1 do look fan- 
tastic in my glazed and paint-stained overalls. I am the 
only one who has a bout to launch this morning. No one 
but me seems to know there is to ho a launch— no one but 
a little maiden who has strayed from the nest-like home of 
a neighbor south of tho point, and comes swinging a pert 
little cprbeille at arm's length, to idle tho ino:ning along 
shore, to gather sea shells, and any wonders the last tide 
has thrown up; finding such, 6be collects carefully and me- 
thodically, all to lie thrown away again before returning. 
She advances timidly, pauses, drops' her basket, and then 
seats herself upon a wide topped rock at tide mark — a fa- 
vorite resting place of mine, perhaps a stone's throw dis- 
tant— and eyes me curiously. She has no boat, and I 
know she loves the waves dearly. I sliull tempt her with 
an invite and use her for ballast. So I heave at the stem 
and heave at the bow, aud now my little Witch receives 
the first caress of the waves, and now they have caught 
her in their strong arms and toss her like a plaything, 
then, forgetting my glazed overalls, my rod face, and the 
daub of yellow ochre on my waistcout, I go ashore for bal- 
last. It is something like the story of an Adam and Eve. 
These bluffs wall our garden of Eden. This world about 
us is as empty as Adam’s worl 1 was, but the serpent is not 
in the garden, though the forbidden fruit is lodged on the 
rock yonder. Tho forbidden fruit is not bitter. I return 
successful, with ballast and basket on my arm. The shell 
gatherer knows of me, and consents to divide with mo the 
dangers and delights of a trial trip. Aye. she is a very 
Eve! These May suns have browned her. These sea 
winds have purified her. This out-of-door life has brought 
exquisite health. 
"Her fare It is the fnirest 
That ere the sun shooe on.” 
Her blue eye dances merrily; a sweet contour possesses her, 
and she has a 
"Step like o mountain roe.” 
She mans the helm and I the oars, and my little Water 
Witch, as if conscious of her freeiora, cuts the waves 
proudly and carries us seaward, the while some half for- 
f rot ten lines of a poem I once wickedly loved, return, and 
lalf-audibly I tell them to her: 
"The sweet south wind, with perfume heavy laden 
Came lij-htlr Irippinj hy. 
And kissed a pruliy, unsuspecting maiden— 
Why not It" 
As the morning ripens the wind lulls. Our bay loses its 
white laugh and stretches itself for a nap. An oar’s length 
from our side that athlete, the nimble mackerel, the gym- 
nast of onr hay, leaps from his water home two feet Into 
the dear morning air— a silver leaf with the dew on it As 
he drops his supple length again into his hath he turns a 
comic, half-closed eye upon us, as one asking, “Well, how 
is that for high?” We both think it very high. Almost 
under our bow the burly-backed porpoise, a very clown in 
his way, does a hesitating somersault, or rather tries to do 
it, for it is a blunder from the starting; an awkward, un- 
trained effort, yet to play out Ids part, adding strength to 
his awkwardness, lie throws his leathery back against a 
coming wave, making a confusion and splatter, and send- 
ing a rain of cold drops that catches us amidships; then, 
like a leaden weight, he sinks from sight, and the place 
that knew him knows him no more. Over beyond, a 
school of noisy young porpoises are playing at a game of 
marine leap-frog, and in their acrobatic follies among the 
waves they are as frolicsome as children at recess time. 
And well they may he, for it makes no matter of difference 
to them whether school keeps or not, and it does to the 
children. They play the burlesque only, ami have vet to 
learn from our little mackerel Ins graceful leap. Now a 
hungry, cunning shark turns from his thoroughfare to en- 
ter our bay and prowl for prey. I know him l>y his state- 
ly fins that ride the water, cutting the waves like the prow 
of a racer. Of course he is an enemy, and I am glad when, 
hungry as ho came, he leaves our peaceful midst to seek 
elsewhere a feeding ground. Overhead a dozen hawks and 
sea gulls are circling, deciding among themselves wluit 
kind of a fish they will have to day for dinner. Perhaps 
to morrow our silver gymnast will not perform. I do not 
understand the ways of a sea gull. A bird’s life is un- 
doubtedly an active one. There is nothing sedentary 
about the habits of a robin, aside from the hatching sen- 
sou; yet I have found a red- breast quite often at rest on 
the bough of a cedar tree, or all hilt niotioulcss among tho 
tingery twigs of an old hickory down the lawn, and huve 
even sighted a swallow taking it easy for ten seconds on 
the top of an old weather-beaten barn, lint the life of a 
seagull is an unceasing round of motions; a confusion of 
designs in flight that is fatiguing to follow. “There be 
three things which are too wonderful for me,” says Solo- 
mon, “yea, four which 1 know not — “the way of un eagle 
in the air"— so I drop the subject at once. 
The sun climbs high and throws an impertinent stare 
into our faces. My arms cry out “enough." Hebe tugs at 
the tiller strings, and the nose of onr little craft buries in 
the sandy softness of a neighboring shore. We disembark 
and find 11 deliciously cool shelter under the friendly 
spread of an old irotiwood that dips over the bank. At 
its roots, in goblet shape, a forgotten spring oilers its 
luugliiiig waters, and the cup hearer serves me dainty 
swallows from tho bleached shallow of a clam shell. Just 
now life tastes very sweet. I lives peaco that posses un- 
derstanding. I do not mark how tho minutes fly, till the 
toll of a distant bell tells the hour of noon. Then, re- 
membering the wide roach of blue, languid water that 
ruthlessly divides me from the honest faro of a farmhouso 
