Aug. 8, 1908.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
215 
And then the hearty lunch in the fields, with 
the pungent odor of the wild jonquils about one 
and the song of the lark in the air, and later 
the smoking dinner before the great open 
hearth where burns sputtering a huge oak log 
and an evening by the fire, listening to the 
realistic yarns that every good peasant has a 
full stock of, and tells wonderfully. 
Oh! yes, there may be many countries where 
game is more plentiful, but taken all in all. few 
where more enjoyable shooting can be had than 
in woods of sunny Italy. Herbert Reeder. 
Deer Hunting in Virginia. 
C. K. and I were guests of Mr. Faison, who 
is known throughout the county of Sussex, and 
has an enviable reputation as a hunter. His 
family consisted of two sons, Demp and Cleve; 
a daughter, Miss G., and last, but not least, Mrs. 
Faison, devoted to her family, taking part in 
all their discussions concerning everything from 
planting to dress. 
For nearly a week we had hunted for deer. 
From early morning until late in the evening 
we had been on the stands, but for days we did 
not get a shot. No fault of the driver, Mr. 
Faison, for each day he started from one to 
three, and often he saw them and once he shot, 
but they did not come our way. Tired, hungry, 
but not discouraged, we wended our way home¬ 
ward, through the tall pines, occasionally jump¬ 
ing a rabbit from his bed, or flushing a covey 
of partridges (quail), and twice we brought in a 
fine 'possum, to be met on our arrival by Mrs. 
Faison—or Mother Faison, as we soon learned 
to call her—and Miss G. as much disappointed 
as we over our ill luck, but with cheery words 
and bright smiles would “reckon we’d all get a 
shot at one to-morrow.” 
The supper that followed Smithfield would be 
proud of. Perhaps we had rabbit or partridge, 
for we frequently stopped on our way home to 
shoot a rabbit or a few birds; boiled yams, 
white potato cakes, chicken and corn pone. 
Then we sat before the great blazing fire and 
talked, while we smoked our pipes, of the events 
of the day; the only really discouraged one be¬ 
ing Mr. Faison, who allowed “he’d never been 
out-generald by deer before.” Then to bed. to 
try it again the coming day. 
One bright, cold morning before sunrise the 
horses were at the door, held by a small negro 
boy, George, while we were making ready for 
the start. Old Aunt Cynthy came from the 
cook room, carrying a box containing our lunch, 
and as if intoning a portion of some service, 
drawled, “Yass, sar, I had a dream las’ night, 
and I dreamed I saw you all shoot a deer.” 
Now at times Aunt Cynthy dreamed things and 
saw things and told wonderful tales of hap- 
pennings “befo’ de war. How Massa D. had 
a long gun he used to load from de top end, 
and how when he’d shoot squirrels he’d put 
salt between the powder and the shot, kase if 
he didn’t, dey sure would spoil befo dey’d reach 
the ground—he’d shoot so high. It sure was 
a mighty pity to strain dat old gun so.” 
As we said good-bye, the little negro, George, 
grasped the rope of the old bell used during 
slavery days to call the help, and giving it a 
sharp pull, it peeled forth onto the still frosty 
air a mournful note, which one member of our 
party said was the death knell of some deer. 
We drove in silence, breaking the ice that had 
formed during the night in the ruts, past the 
mill pond, the old mill, the ancient church, 
where for generations the people of that sec¬ 
tion had worshipped, to the plantation of Mr. 
D. There we unharnessed the horses. Mr. F., 
throwing a McClellan—which had seen service 
during the war—on to Prince, called the dogs, 
gave us directions as to stands, and disappeared 
into the woods. Several times we heard his 
horn, which re-echoed through the still forest, 
and occasionally we could hear him calling to 
Wheeler, Henry or Music, “You, sar—yar, yar, 
yar; hi on, you, sar.” Then of a sudden, 
Wheeler gave cry, followed almost instantly by 
Henry and Music; then the rest of the pack, and 
we knew a deer had been jumped. I broke my 
gun, to be sure my shells were right, looking 
for the deer, and listening to the dogs, now 
baying singly, now in unison, now coming 
nearer, almost on me they seemed, then away, 
but always running furiously. The tension was 
great, for I could in my mind’s eye see the deer 
coming directly at me; but no, it had turned, and 
I knew it was not for me. Crack! crack! came 
the report from a gun, and then the three yells 
which always followed the bringing down of a 
deer. Rushing to the spot from whence came 
the calls, I saw a fine buck breathing his last, 
and Demp, still yelling to the dogs, said be¬ 
tween times, “I’ve got another down.” Finally 
the dogs came up, and almost instantly Mr. F., 
on Prince, burst through the thicket, not to 
stop, for the dogs had been driven off the 
fallen deer and put on the trail of the fleeing 
one, and were off again at full cry, followed by 
Mr. F. at a dead run, as if he thoroughly en¬ 
joyed the sport. 
In the meantime C. K. came up, and we stood 
listening in silence to the pack. Suddenly their 
voices ceased, and we all breathed easier, for 
we were certain they had overtaken the other 
deer. After nearly an hour Mr. F. returned at 
a walk, followed by the dogs, covered from 
muzzle to tip of tail with blood, but no deer. 
They had driven the wounded deer into a 
cypress swamp, and there had attacked it, prob¬ 
ably sinking him during the combat. We 
placed the dead deer upon Prince and returned 
to the D. plantation, where we procured a boat, 
and we searched the swamp until dark for the 
body of the other deer without success. In the 
light of the bright shining moon that night two 
horses drawing four tired men and a deer, fol¬ 
lowed by a string of foot-weary, lame and blood¬ 
stained dogs, came slowly through the broad 
avenue of oaks to the F. home, there to be met 
by the members of the household with cheers 
and congratulations, and old Aunt Cynthy’s 
“Ah tole you so; dis here ole niggar always 
tole de truf.” What a supper! How good 
everything was! After supper about the fire 
Demp for the first time told how it all hap¬ 
pened. Mr. F. recounted tales of other hunts, 
Mother F. sitting by as much interested as any 
of us—then Miss G. played and sang some old- 
time songs, we all joining in the chorus. 
It was far into the night when we retired, to 
dream of the events of the day. The following- 
day, with promises to return next year, we de¬ 
parted. and as we drove out of the yard, we 
turned and waved a fond adieu to the Faisons,, 
of Waverly. Mac. 
Grouse in Ontario. 
Ioronto, Can., July 16. — Editor Forest and 
Stream: By an order in council approved by 
his honor the administrator of the Government 
the 10th day of July, the hunting, taking or 
killing of grouse or partridge in the Province 
of Ontario is prohibited until the 15th day of 
September, 1909. E. Tinsley, 
Supt. of Game and Fisheries. 
The Forest and Stream may be obtained from 
any newsdealer on order. Ask your dealer to 
supply you regularly. 
THE CAMPER’S FRIEND. 
Pure Milk is desirable wherever you camp. 
Borden’s Eagle Brand Condensed Milk always 
opens up perfectly fresh, pure and satisfactory. 
It is the first item thought of by the veteran 
camper.— Adv. 
l 
E' canefields near cicilia metella. 
Country just outside of Rome where woodcock are shot daily in season. 
