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On Monday | 
station agent at 
received a.telegram from the 
Taunton that a deer had been 
killed that morning by a train near Easton. The 
commissioners sent a deptuy to take charge ot 
the carcass, which, I suppose, is the property ot 
the -State. Under the law passed last winter 
there may be a question whether the body of a 
deer killed while destroying crops may not be 
claimed by the person who kills the deer. » Un- 
der that law deer are likely to be shot, but, I 
think, most of our intelligent farmers are so 
fond of seeing the pretty creatures that they will 
be reluctant to shoot them. ale 
Visitors to the Cape towns are just beginning 
to enjoy their favorite recreation of fishing. At 
Onset, Capt. Raymond came in one day this week 
with eleven bluefish. At Nantucket, Mr. Gar- 
rett Schenck, a member of the State association, 
while out in his yacht, the Souwanas, to-day was 
successful in landing the first one of the season. 
The Nantucket fishermen usually count on get- 
ting blues the first. week in June, but this year 
has been an exceptional one. 
' Mr. A. B. F. Kinney, of Worcester, honored 
me with a call on Friday. He says in the cen- 
tral part of the State more and larger trout have 
been taken this year than usual. On his trip to 
the Bangor Pool last month he beat his former 
records, getting one sea salmon of ten and. an- 
other of sixteen pounds. By the way, our trout 
fishing season will continue only three weeks 
more, closing on Aug. I. Heretofore it has 
closed Sept. I, except in the four western coun- 
ties, where it closed Aug. 1. Under the present 
law the season is'uniform throughout the State— 
from April 15 to Aug. I. 
Col. E, B. Parker, of Boston, writes that he is 
getting all the trout he wants from his brooks 
and pond near St. Johnsbury, Vt.. He received 
a visit last week from Col. H.’A. Thomas, the 
Fish and Game Commissioner of the State, who 
is in pusuit of some miscreants who have been 
violating the laws in Col. Parker’s section. 
Vermont has a number of regions where game 
is abundant and has several lakes, and not a 
few streams where good trout fishing may be 
had. A New Yorker, Mr. Stephen Clark, has 
commenced the building of a hunting lodge that 
will eclipse everything of the sort in Vermont. 
It is located on Mt. Tabor and will be reached 
by a new automobile road fifteen miles long. The 
lodge is to be build of logs cut on the premises. 
The plan is to have the largest room in the cen- 
ter to be surrounded by smaller ones, making 
a gallery on two sides, which will be a very 
unique arrangement. In summer the Granite 
State is a magnet that draws largely from the 
ranks of Massachusetis sportsmen. 
Dr. and Mrs. Henry F. Libby have gone to 
their country home near Wolfboro, where they 
are sure of finding good fishing in the lake. 
Prof. Edwin De Meritte has opened his summer 
camps for boys on Lake Asquam. Rowing and 
fishing are among the attractions for the young- 


sters. Mr. F. L. Bickford.and wife, of Boston, 
have taken several brown and native trout the 
past week. CENTRAL. 
Old Remedies. 
Two of the ills to which outdoor men and 
women are susceptible just now are the effects 
of sunburn and ivy poison. Either one is ex- 
ceedingly unpleasant, and while all sorts of 
lotions are recommended, few allay the acute suf- 
fering of the first few days. Two of these, how- 
ever, are recommended.- Both are old-time 
remedies of known value. 
There are those who claim that a generous 
anointment of the skin with vaseline before ex- 
posure to the sun will prevent excessive burning, 
and this. is no doubt true. Fair persons, however, 
do not realize the extent of the burning until too 
late. They should then anoint their blistered 
arms and necks with Caron oil, applying it fre- 
quently until the inflammation disappears. This 
is merely equal parts of linseed oil and lime- 
water, obtainable at any apothecary shap. Care 
should be taken lest the clothing absorb the oil, 
for it is very difficult to remove it, Once it has 
dried in linen or other fabrics. 
For ivy poison use tincture grindelia (Grindelia 
robusta), also obtainable anywhere. sathe the 
affected parts in hot water, avoiding the use of 

FOREST AND STREAM? 

[JULY 13, 1907. 

soap, then dry them without rubbing, and apply 
the tincture frequently until the tiny blisters are 
dried up. Soap helps to spread the poison. Hot 
water relieves the itching and also prevents .ex- 
cessive sloughing. 
“The Boy Behind the Man.” 
Newport, Ky., June 5.—Editor Forest and 
Stream: Boy and man, | have hunted much 
with boys, and am not unfamiliar with many of 
their ways afield, but an incident I once en- 
countered left an impression that is among the 
lasting and has often furnished food for thought. 
It was sitting on the pasture fence one even- 
ing, when my attention was drawn to a solitary 
crow perched upon the topmost twig of a locust 
sapling near the middle of the field. He was 
swinging backward and forward in the breeze, 
preening his glossy black feathers and now 
and then sending forth his monotonous “Caw! 
caw! caw!” in a 

way that seemed almost im- 
pudent and was distinctly tantalizing. Coming 
from this arrant thief who had just left off 
plundering my grain field of the young sprouts, 
and was even now doubtless meditating an as- 
sault upon the nearest hen’s nest, his note had 
an air of bravado about it that was peculiarly 
irritating. He was probably a hundfed yards 
away, and near the center of the lot, which, with 
the exception of the clump of growth where he 
held forth, was bare of cover on‘’all sides. It 
was a fine strategic position, from the crow’s 
point of view. Even had he been closer it would 
have done me no good, as I had no gun, and 
so far as I was concerned he was safe; and his 
brazen demeanor denoted that he was well 
aware of that fact. 
I was idly watching his graceful tilting back 
and forth upon the swaying limb and half-vin- 
dictively speculating upon what a splendid tar- 
get he would make for the little .22 at home, 
when I became aware of a ragged urchin who 
was also watching the bird from a point close 
by. At first sight he seemed just a mischievous 
country youngster looking for something to 
shoot, for he carried a gun under his arm. He 
surveyed the bird, the tree and the whole sur- 
rounding field with the keen eye of a veteran 
scout, and then looked at me with a knowing 
smile as I half-sympathetically looked over his 
gun, 
It was one of those quaint old affairs that at 
a glance inevitably carried one back to memories 
of ’62 and ’65—an old-time Springfield musket, 
cap-lock and smooth bore of probably 14 to 15 
gauge. Its now rusty barrel, once approximat- 
ing thirty-six inches in length, was no more 
than twenty-eight, and its long and heavy mili- 
tary stock had been reduced proportionately, 
manifestly in order to su‘t the stature of its 
rather diminutive owner. The only remaining 
abnormal feature of the antiquated weapon was 
the enormous hammer once thought necessary 
to explode the commensurately large cap which 
surmounted the nipple,. like an old-fashioned 
flat-crowned, broad-brimmed hat. Altogether, 
it was an uncouth, though effective arm and, 
notwithstanding his tender years, the youngster 
appeared to handle it like one who knew how 
and fully understood its killing power. 
He stood irresolutely for a moment or two 
looking at the noisy marauder and then said, in 
a half aside as though to himself: 
“B’lieve I could get a crack at that old stealer 
yonder.” 
Thinking myself well versed in the ways of 
the wary bird, it looked hopeless to me, and I 
remarked doubtfully to him: “I’m afraid not, 
son. I don’t think you could get within 
seventy-five yards of him before he’d fly.” 
“Maybe not, but I’m going to try him just 
the same, ’cause he steals all our eggs and kills 
our young chickens,” was the quiet but de- 
termined rejoinder. : 
Sceptical of results, I sat and waited, and the 
boy walked off in a very energetic—and I then 
thought unsportsmanlike—way, dropping his 
gun to a crutch-like position under the hollow 
of his right arm, his right hand on the trigger 
and guard, and the heavy hammer ‘at half cock. 
I was further nonplussed to note that he 
started right off without any attempt at secrecy 


and trudged along whistling loudly some old- 
time martial air, never turning his -head to the 
right or the left, and apparently entirely ob- 
livious to the presence of the now curious bird. 
On he went, carrying his gun along his right 
side, trailing slightly to the rear, and seemingly 
taking a direction that would pass by the tree at 
a considerable distance to the right, and the 
usually wily though now only mildly interested 
bird evidently took that view of it, too, for he 
went on unconcernedly enjoying his swing. 
Looking a trifle closer now, I saw that con- 
tinuing in a straight line his course would put 
him past the tree at a distance of just about 
fifty yards, and there seemed a chance of suc- 
cess after all if the crow didn’t fly. Right on 
went the boy, walking fast, looking straight 
ahead, and whistling as before, till, just as he 
reached a point directly opposite the tree in a 
line at right angles to his path, the bird’s 
naturally suspicious instincts prevailed and he 
sprang upward in tardy flight. With the pre- 
cision of clockwork and the speed of thought 
the boy whirled, the terrible little gun slid to his 
shoulder and full cock in the same motion, and 
with the crash of its discharge the load of No. 
6 shot found its mark, and the stricken crow 
tumbled right back into the treetop. His egg- 
stealing days were over. ‘ 
“That was a pretty smooth trick you played 
on the old fellow, son. Where’d you learn it?” 
I asked him; my sympathy for the luckless bird 
rapidly though reluctantly giving way to a 
natural admiration for the little nimrod’s skill, 
“Pop told me how,’ said he.. “You see, he 
and I hunt together a good deal, and it was him 
learnt me to handle a gun and showed me the 
way to fool the birds. ’Course crows are pretty 
slick, but they’re easy when you know how.” 
“How long have you been hunting, son?” I 
asked him, curiosity still unspent. 
“This is my second year,’ he said. ‘Dad 
bought me this musket when I was just eight 
years old and it was too big and heavy for me 
to handle, so he cut the barrel off a lot, and 
trimmed the stock to fit me, and then he took 
me out and taught me how to use it so I 
wouldn’t get hurt or hurt nobody else with it; 
and I been hunting right along with it ever 
since,” 
aaee had her loaded pretty heavy, didn’t you, 
son! 
“Yes, but I had to for that kind of a shot. 
Crows is’ hard to kill. She sure kicked some, 
too, and my shoulder gets awful sore sometimes: 
from it;’’ and he slipped his: hand inside the 
tattered shirt and softly rubbed the -smooth, 
white skin even now beginning to turn a bluish- 
black from the wicked kick of the gun. 
“Aren’t you pretty young, though, to carry a 
gun like that all by yourself?” 
“Oh, my, no!” said he. “I’m past ten years 
old. And then you know pop said it’s a good 
thing for any boy to learn, ’cause he’s out in 
the field a whole lot and there’s ma and the girls 
at home all day and nobody else only me to 
look after them, and tramps is pretty bad. And 
a feller might have to be a soldier some day, 
too. So you see, I just got to know how to 
shoot, Mister!” 
The reason and the reasoning were unanswer- 
able, and who can show the unwisdom of it all? 
. Joun S. Roesuck, Jr. 

The Ghost was Tempted. 
A GHOST, a vague white form, which flitted 
about a small neglected graveyard in Galway, 
much to the alarm of those who lived near by, 
one of the gentlemen of our party undertook to 
lay. Going out not far from midnight he did, 
indeed, soon become aware of a white figure 
looming toward him through the darkness. Our 
friend, however, held on his way undeterred. 
“Ghost,” he said in sepulchral tones when he 
came near, “could you drink a glass a whiskey?” 
“I could so, your honor,” blithely responded, 
the ghost, taken off his balance by the unex- 
pected offer and standing revealed as the prin- 
cipal poacher of the neighborhood, who had 
availed himself of this spectral guise to set his 
night lines and carry on his other depredations 
undisturbed.—_Blackwood’s Magazine, 


