March 6, 1909.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
it minutely. It was a female, as we knew by 
the pouch, in which she carries her young. 
“This is the queerest animal I ever saw,” said 
Col. Rodman. “It is strange that an animal so 
common in the South, with so fine a coat of 
fur. should never be found in New England.” 
“See here, Marse Colonel,” said Thrasher, in 
amazement, “got no ’possum up dar whar you 
comes from?” 
“No, Thrasher,” answered Col. Rodman, “we 
have no opossum up North.” 
“Ugh! mighty poor country up dar den.” said 
Thrasher contemptuously, “w’at nigger do for 
somethin’ to hunt?” 
“The colored people are not so numerous up 
there as ■ they are here,” replied the Colonel: 
“besides, the cold winter nights there would 
not be very pleasant for hunting.” 
“I don’t want to go dar den,” said Thrasher. 
“This is, I believe, the only marsupial animal 
that belongs to North America,” said Col. 
Rodman, carefully examining the inanimate¬ 
looking beast; “there are many marsupials in 
Australia,” continued the Colonel, touching one 
of her feet. 
“He! he! he!” grinned Thrasher, as the 
Colonel bethought himself and quickly jerked 
away his hand. 
“I thought it was dead,” he said, looking sur¬ 
prised. 
“You tickle ’em an’ yer see mighty live 
’possum,” said Thrasher. 
“How old are the young when she takes them 
in her pouch?” asked Col. Rodman. 
“Jis born dar,” answered Thrasher. 
“Oh! you must be mistaken. They cannot 
possibly be born in the pouch,” the Colonel 
said in astonishment. 
“But dey is! Ain’t I seed ’em when dey no 
bigger dan grains ob corn, stickin’ to the old 
tin’s teats! And when dey gets too big to stay 
in de old mammy’s pocket, dey jis climbs up 
on her back, and she curls her tail ober dem, 
an’ all the little picaninny ’possums jis twist der 
tails ’round the old tin’s tail, an’ holes on to 
her back, and she goes off huntin’ for grub, 
takin’ de hull family erlong. Golly! ain’t I 
seed ’em lots er times?” said Thrasher with a 
surprised look. 
“Is that a fact?” asked Col. Rodman, turning 
to Maj. Hubbard. 
“The negro is the best authority on the habits 
of the opossum,” answered the Major, smiling. 
“I have seen them myself when quite young 
clinging to the teats of the dam in the pouch, 
and I have also seen them traveling as he de¬ 
scribes, on the old one’s back.” 
“Yes, sah! dat’s why de ’possum’s tail am 
bar, for him to hold on wid’’: and Thrasher 
blew his horn and we started again, one of the 
negro boys carrying the opossum with its tail 
fastened in a sapling, as before. 
“Why don’t your dogs bark on the trail, 
Thrasher?” inquired Col. Rodman. 
“Yah! yah! got too much sense for dat. 
Bone’em strikes de track, and he keeps his 
mouf shet, and he catches up wid de ’possum 
’fore he know dog’s erbout; and sometime he 
catches up wid ’em on de groun’, ’fore he ken 
get to a tree, an’ den he has to climb de fust 
saplin’ he comes to.” 
“Will all your dogs do that. Thrasher?” asked 
the Colonel. 
“No, sah! only fustrate ’possum dogs got 
dat sort ob sense.” 
The hunt being finished, we returned to the 
shooting box, followed by the negroes, who 
knew they would get a dram after the guests 
were through. 
“Thrasher,” said I, “you’ve quit drinking, I 
believe, since you got drunk last year, and stole 
that piece of bacon.” 
“You jis try me and see if I done quit.” 
A glass of whiskey was handed him, which 
he tossed off with a gulp. 
“Now, Thrasher, tell us about that meat 
business,” said Col. Rodman, “did you really 
steal the meat?” 
“No, sah, I didn’t!” he replied indignantly. 
“Why, Thrasher,” said I, was it not proved 
in court?” 
“Of course it was,” said he, “but did not de 
jury acquit me? Den how is I to consider my¬ 
self guilty when the jury said I wasn’t?” 
“Now tell us the truth, Thrasher,” said Bill 
Boss, “you know I got you off in court. Didn't 
you steal the meat?” 
“You was my ’torney in de case, you ought 
to know,” responded Thrasher; “but I specs I 
did. Dat is, I didn’t adzactly steal the meat, 
but bein’ short ob rations at dat time, and 
’cause I knowed the merchant had made rite 
smart outen me, more dan he ought, I jist 
picked up a small piece of meat I seed layin’ 
’round loose, to sorter git eben, and dey catched 
me wid a piece of meat ’bout the size of the 
piece that was missin’, and persecuted me for 
stealing. Mars Poss, he took the case and 
clar’d me.” 
“How did Mr. Poss clear you when you had 
been proved guilty?” asked Col. Rodman. 
“W'hy, you see, dar war a big piece ob meat 
an’ a little piece ob meat layin’ togedder, an’ 
it war de little piece dat war took. So Mars 
Poss, he gits up to speak in de case, and he 
sez: 
“ ‘Please, yah honor, an’ gemmen ob de jury, 
de case is so clar, dat my client is innercent. 
I’ll not take up yer time in argufying de case. 
.Stand up, Thrasher. Now open yer mouf.’ I 
opened it ’bout wide as my han’. ‘Open it 
wider, you black imp of Satan!’ hollered Mars 
Poss. I tells yer, gemmens, I jis stretched her! 
‘Now, gemmen ob de jury,’ said Mars Poss, 
‘does yer believe a nigger wid a mouf life dat 
would steal a little piece of meat, when dar war 
a big piece close beside it dat he could take 
jis as easy? Gemmen ob de jury, I say, jis look 
at dat nigger’s mouf, an’ yah air bound to 
acquit my client ob theft, unless yer consider 
him insane. No nigger wid er mouf like dat 
is a gwine to steal er little piece ob meat when 
he can git er big piece that will fit his mouf 
better. De case is so plain, I leave it widout 
furder argyment for your ’cision.’ 
“De judge larfed, an’ de jury larfed, an’ de 
peoples larfed. De District-’Torney got up to 
reply, but he larfed so, he couldn’t talk, so he 
sot down. An I jis stood dar wid my mouf 
open, ’cause nobody tole me to shut it. De 
Sheriff ripped an’ tore ’round, hollerin’ ‘Silence 
in court!’ but he couldn’t stop ’em. De judge 
sent de jury out, an’ dey come rite back wid 
er verdick ob not guilty.” 
By the time Thrasher was through des^ .'ib- 
ing the scene in court. Col. Rodman was rolling 
on the lounge, convulsed with laughter. And 
37 ' 
the scene in the shooting box was not unlike 
the scene in the court room. When we had 
partially composed ourselves. Col. Rodman 
asked Thrasher what he proposed to do with 
his game. 
“Eat ’em, sah,” he answered. 
“What is the first thing you do to prepare 
an opossum for the table?” 
“I breaks his neck, sah.” 
“Why do you break his neck?” 
“Dat’s de way we kills er ’possum.” 
“Why. you barbarian, you don’t hang him, 
do you?” 
“No, sah, I jis puts a pole across his neck, 
and sets my two foots on de pole an’ pulls him 
by de tail till I unjints his neck; den he’ ded 
fur sho.” 
“Do you skin him then?” 
“No, sah; don’t skin ’possum, scalds him in 
hot water and ashes, den scrapes de fur oft’, 
an’ den I cuts him open and lays him out ober 
night fur de frost to fall on him, den I bakes 
him in a oven, wid lots ob sweet pertaters, den 
I eats ’em. White folks can’t bake ’possum, it 
takes a nigger to do dat, ’cordin’ to science, 
he, he, he!” and Thrasher’s mouth worked with 
anticipated pleasure. 
Spring in the South. 
Hendersonville, N. C., Feb. 27 .—Editor 
Forest and Stream: Spring is rapidly coming 
on here, even in our beautiful North Carolina 
Mountains, and the robins are arriving from 
further South every day. Soon our woods will 
be full of brightness from birds and flowers, 
and we have many of both. Botanists say that 
our mountains have a larger variety of plant 
growth than any part of this broad land. 
And then the birds—robins, cardinal gros¬ 
beaks (or redbirds), two or three of the thrush 
family, the thrasher, catbird and others of the 
songsters, and no scarcity of them, either. All 
these birds to see and be heard and others, too, 
and in the midst of the woods with numerous 
varieties of ferns and flowers. And earliest of 
the latter is the creeping arbutus. Another rare 
plant here about the ferns is the Hartford fern. 
Then, too, the kalmia in greatest profusion, fol¬ 
lowed by several kinds of rhododendrons, white 
and purple, some very low, and others full fifteen 
to twenty feet high. 
Yes, our woods will soon be full of beauty and 
music and this music is not altogether confined 
to the birds either, for we have numbers of 
small streams that make music for those that 
can understand and appreciate it. Not only do 
they make sweet music, but they contribute much 
of real pleasure to those who understand 
them and are familiar with them. I know this, 
for have I not been on their banks and walked 
their waters, fallen heels over head in them, and 
taken the trout from them? Yes, I have and 
I trust I shall for some years longer be able 
to go alone into these woods and fish and wade 
these streams for trout and see the many beau¬ 
ties our woods and streams furnish. I am nearly 
sixty years of age, but in my good health and 
strength. This is largely due to my intimate 
acquaintance with the woods and waters of our 
beautiful mountain country, and providence will¬ 
ing, I hope to send you several letters this spring 
and summer, giving you some insight into what 
can be done with rod and line by 
Ernest L. Ewbank. 
