Dec. 2, 1911.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
821 
New 
Model 
27 
arlin 
Repeating 
Rifle 
The only gun that fills the demand 
for a trombone (“pump ) action 
repeater in .25-20 and 
.32-20 calibers. 
Shoots 
high ve¬ 
locity smoke¬ 
less cartridges, 
also black and low pres¬ 
sure smokeless. Power¬ 
ful enough for deer, safe to use in 
settled districts, excellent for target 
work, for foxes, geese, woodchucks, etc. 
Its exclusive features : the quick, smooth working “pump” action; 
the wear-resisting Special Smokeless Steel barrel; the modern 
solid-top and side ejector for rapid, accurate firing, increased safety 
and convenience. It has take down construction and Ivory Bead 
front sight; these cost extra on other rifles of these calibers. 
Our 136 page catalog describes the full 77lar/en 
line. Sent for three stamps postage. Write for it. 
2?Iar/i7Z firearms Co. 
27 WILLOW STREET, 
NEW HAVEN, CONN. 
NEWFOUNDLAND 
A Country of Fish and Game. A Paradise for the Camper and Angler. Ideal Canoe Trips. 
The country traversed by the Reid Newfoundland Company’s system is exceedingly rich in all kinds of fish and 
game, fjAll along the route of the Railway are streams famous for their SALMON and TROUT fishing, also 
Caribou barrens. IJAmericans who have been fishing and hunting in Newfoundland say there is no other country 
in the world in which so good fishing and hunting can be secured and with such ease as in Newfoundland. 
Information, together with Illustrated Booklet and Fold er, cheerfully forwarded upon application to 
J. W. N JOHNSTONE, General Passenger Agent, Reid Newfoundland Company, St. John’s, Newfoundland. 
the aid of ferrets and stockings, had caught 
fifty full-grown rats. It is an ancient method— 
that of taking rats alive in stockings. The 
mouths of the latter are pegged over the mouths 
of the holes, and then the stockings are nicely 
arranged, and the rats bolt into them without 
the least hesitation. The moment it is noticed 
that a rat has entered the stocking, the stocking 
must be picked up at once and the rat emptied 
into a more secure trap, otherwise the rodent 
may presently bolt back into its hole and be 
killed by the ferret, or may bite the ferret so 
severely that it will not hunt again for a few 
days. 
Yesterday practically the whole village was 
up long before daybreak, for even when it is 
a holiday there is a lot of work to be done. 
The cattle and poultry must be fed and other¬ 
wise attended to, the shepherd must spend a 
few busy hours among his flocks, and the 
housewife must not neglect the more important 
of her daily household duties. As a matter 
of fact, there are thousands of villagers who 
have never enjoyed a whole day’s holiday. 
The great event of the day, the shooting 
match, was held in the squire’s paddock at the 
back of the stables. The publican was to sup¬ 
ply an ample number of traps—those ingenious 
yet simple contrivances, from which the spar¬ 
rows and rats are set at liberty, one at a time— 
and he himself, knowing all there is to be 
known about most country sports and pas¬ 
times, marked out the ground. Five traps were 
used, being placed ten yards apart, and each 
exactly twenty-one yards from where the gun¬ 
ners took their stand, and so arranged a semi¬ 
circle. 
Long before the clock on the church-tower 
chimed two, the hour appointed for the match 
to begin, the little paddock was full of folk. 
Decades had passed since a shooting match 
had last been held in the village, and the novelty 
of the event had attracted everybody. Old 
men and women, young men and maidens, and 
of course, the children—they were all there, 
happy, smiling, expectant. At last the clock 
struck two. The squire strolled on to the 
ground with a gun on his shoulder and the 
rector by his side, and the match began. Our 
squire and the rector are of the old school. 
Our joys and sorrows are their joys and sor¬ 
rows; when we suffer they suffer; when we are 
happy and rejoicing they are happy and re¬ 
joicing. We all live and work and play in this 
tiny, far-away village, divided from the pomps 
and vanities of the world by hills and dells and 
woods, just as though we were one big 
Robinson Crusoe on a desert island. The 
squire and rector had come to take part in the 
competition just for the fun of the thing. 
First one competitor and then another step¬ 
ped forward and missed or laid his sparow 
low. Presently, however, there came a lull— 
ever so slight—in the interesting battle. A 
few of the competitors do not hold gun licen¬ 
ses, and the constable was present—a pleasant, 
middle-aged, intelligent man. Fie noticed the 
confusion at once, and as promptly restored 
peace of mind by taking up a gun and asking 
when it would be his turn to shoot. He is a 
member of the club, and so has a right to 
compete in the match; but we all know that 
lie does not take out a gun license. 
Neither a sparrow nor a rat is an easy mark 
on a December afternoon, when the light is 
never good and rapidly becoming worse; but 
how few sparrows were missed, and not a single 
rat escaped! 
An excellent shot is the village laborer, al¬ 
though few are the opportunities that come his 
way to enjoy gun practice. The secret of 
his success lies in the fact that he has except¬ 
ional eyesight and what we call a “good eye.” 
You and I, patient reader, cannot plant our 
potatoes in straight rows without a line, but 
the average cottager will plant potatoes—or, 
for the matter of that, any other seeds—-all 
day long in rows as straight as can be with 
only his eyes to guide him. 
Long before the shoot was over both the 
squire and rector were well beaten, and event¬ 
ually the best shot of us all proved to be an 
elderly carter, who perhaps has not shot more 
than a hundred times during the whole of his 
busy, useful life. The match over, the company 
quickly dispersed, some to feed and shut up 
poultry, some to milk, and the remainder for 
the most part to attend to horses and other 
cattle. 
But by eight o’clock we were all gathered 
together again, with the exception of the chil¬ 
dren. The scene this time was the large, 
old-fashioned, magnificent dining hall in the 
squire’s stately home. There such a supper 
was spread outo before us! There was, of 
course, sparrow pie, and there was venison, 
beef, and pheasant and partridge, and hare 
and snipe. After supper the schoolmaster read 
out the names of the prize-winners and the 
number of rats (5,000) and the number of 
sparrows (2,500) killed by the members of the 
club during the year. Then the squire’s good 
lady gracefully distributed the prize-money, 
the £20. 
After this we went into the coach-house, 
which had been transformed into a ballroom. 
Naturally few of us can afford dancing pumps, 
and our Sunday boots, although our best and 
lightest, are really heavy boots, and would 
have ruined a floor less strong and coarse. 
The squire and his wife opened the ball, the 
one by dancing with the blacksmith’s pretty 
daughter—a simple little maiden, all blushes, 
dimples, and smiles—and the other by dancing 
with the old carter who won the shooting 
match—a big, burly man, heavy, clumsy, and 
short-winded. Neither the squire nor his wife 
are good dancers, being more at home in the 
saddle, but they can dance the polka as well 
as most of us, and the polka is the only dance 
we care about. Oh, it is such a rollicking 
dance! You must know it wen—shuffle, hop, 
and round, three simple movements, full of 
poetry, charm, and grace. We all danced the 
polka from nine o’clock till three in the morn¬ 
ing—the squire, the rector, and th,eir families 
—-yes, we all danced, all danced at once, over 
a hundred couples—shuffle, hop and round— 
from nine o’clock till three in the morning! 
Then in the soft, waning, yellow moonlight 
home we went, whispering and so slowly, in 
happy, loving couples, along the quiet lanes, 
across the meadows, through the woods, to 
quaint, tiny cottages, quaint old farmhouses, 
and modern, bright red villas, scattered over 
an area of a good five square miles. 
A TWICE-TOLD TALE. 
“Yes,” said Mr. Greener, as he lighted an 
after-dinner cigar, on the conclusion of a suc¬ 
cessful day in the forest; “yes, I had decidedly 
the better of McPherson to-day.” 
“Indeed,” replied Mr. Thorne, a guest who 
had but that evening arrived at the lodge, and 
to whom, consequently, some of the rather 
unique practices in vogue in the forest of Glen 
Guile were unknown. 
“You must understand,” continued Mr. 
Greener, by way of preliminary explanation, 
“that I am neither so fleet of foot nor light of 
person as I once was, and that, therefore, I am 
altogether unfit for exertions which, as a 
younger man, I thought nothing of. The result 
is that I have lost more than one wounded stag 
through inability to follow him up; for, though 
I ultimately handed the rifle to McPherson, the 
opportunity was lost, as by that time the stag 
had too long a start. Now, I hold that, in the 
interests of humanity, no stalker should fail to 
adopt all legitimate means for ensuring the 
death of a wounded animal. It is awful to think 
of the poor beasts being subjected to a linger¬ 
ing death of protracted pain and suffering from 
the lack of a little foresight and precaution. In 
order to avoid such eventualities I have there¬ 
fore supplied McPherson with a second rifle, 
under strict injunctions only to use it when 
there seems a probability of a wounded beast get¬ 
ting away. Mac is really a good shot, but rather 
inclined to overestimate his own abilities as a 
