i “ her fish.” 


















































































































































Terms, Five Dollars a Year, | 
Ten Cents a Copy. i 
NEW YORK, THURSDAY, AUGUST 28, 1873. : 

§ Volume I, Number 3, 
103 Fulton Street. 


For Forest and Stream. 
THE PEACE COMMISSION---A Vea O/ghs 
PASTORAL. ‘ 
ees 
T was a peace Commissioner, 
And his garb was sober drab ; 
His hair was long and white, and he 
Economized his gab. 
In short, he was a reticent 
And inoffensive slab. 
His style was philanthropic, 
And he bore a carpet-bag, 
In which he stored his tracts and soap, 
And other peaceful swag, 
Which Indians patronize when war 
And cattle-stealing lag. 
Long they sat in solemn council, 
The agent and the Red, 
Mildly talking flabby virtue ; 
Till the sachem shook his head, 
As with doubt and dim suspicion— 
Then he grunted low, and said, 
Not with eloquence of nature, 
Not in metaphoric style, 
But in simple frontier lingo, 
Mingled slang and grammar vile--- 
“Na-ree-trow-zis want some whiskey ; 
Injun empty ; drink a pile.” 
Then that meek and lowly Quaker 
Remonstrated with a tear ; 
Spoke of fire-water and ruin 
With eloquence severe— 
Said, quite feelingly, that whiskey 
Was a foe most insincere, 
Spake once more the child of Nature, 
Keeping down his growing bile, 
“Has my brother brought tobacco ? 
Is there powder in his pile ?” 
But the honest agent answered 
With an unsuspecting smile ; 
‘Had my variegated brother 
Ever studied Mr. Trask, 
He would never, I am certain, 
Such a foolish question ask. 
Read these pamphlets, they will teach you 
In the light of truth to bask. 
Powder I have none—nor whiskey, 
Nor the brain-destroying leaf ; 
But of moral tracts and stories 
I have many for the chief.” 
Then the Indian, weeping sadly, 
Said it caused him bitter grief. 
That his moral sense compelled him 
To extract his brother’s hair ; 
Which he did, with nice precision 
And a sadness-stricken air ; 
And that hopeful Peace Commission 
Terminated then and there. I. DeR: 


How THE Inprans Kini Trour.—The Grass Valley Union 
tells how the Lo family of digger persuasion destroy 
the brook trout. They wait until the season of the year when 
the streams run but little water, and when the fish collect in 
the deepest and widest holes in the stream. Then they 
cut off the water above such holes, and use soap root rub- 
bed into alather in the holes. The sopa root soon causes 
all the fish in the hole to float on the surface of the water 
im a stupefied condition. Not one escapes.. No wonder 
that while the rest of the world is endeavoring to increase 
the stock of fish in the streams, Nevada county is losing 
i oo oe 
—In Hawaii, if you carry a gun, you are likely to have a 
shot at wild turkeys on your way up or down. It is remarka- 
_ ble that many domestic animals easily become wild on the 
islands. There are wild goats, wild cats, wild chickens 
urkeys; the cattle run wild; and on Hawaii one man 
t has been killed and torn to pieces by wild dogs, 
run in packs in some parts of the island. 
‘ 
AI ELOOS TE: 
a Bn ea 
THE JOURNAL OF A NAVAL OFFICER. 
ere fe 
[Continued from our Last Issue. | 
el nlpreeeees 
HE next morning we landed early about two miles 
inside of Pointe aux Pins, and sent the canoe back 
to bring on the baggage and follow us to Pointe au Grain, 
where we purposed breakfasting. The woods on this side 
of the bay were larger, rising gradually from the water’s 
edge to some height, where they terminated in a large bar- 
ren. Between Pointe aux Pins and Pointe au Grain, the 
next headland, a distance of three miles, we passed the ribs 
of two vessels high and dry on the shore. Near one was ¢ 
good rope ladder, a couple of oars, and a ship’s bucket. 
On reaching Pointe au Grain we founda direction board 
nailed toa tree near the beach. The inscription—‘‘Five 
miles west to Provision Post”—was suggestive of ship- 
wreck and suffering, the coast around Ellis Bay being for- 
merly noted for the number of vessels lost there, of the 
truth of which we had seen but too recent proof. At the 
back of the Point is a large pond, almost enclosed by trees, 
and bordered with high rushes and water lilies, a favo- 
rite resort of duck at high tide and a most tempting look- 
ing spot. I shot two black ducks, and Flanigan declared 
he wounded one, which he said dived and hid itself in a 
little island covered with reeds. I think it much more 
probable that he missed altogether, as when shooting he 
gets immensely excited, and, like the Frenchman and the 
woodcock, provided he can obtain a good many shots kill- 
ing his bird seems no object, and he cries ‘‘ Vive le sport.” 
For some distance to the east of Pointe au Grain exten- 
sive banks of limestone shingle, with occasional layers of 
thin slate, stretch inland ; lying in long wave-like ridges, 
resembling one vast sea of stone, these banks remain a lasting 
memorial of the waters which once covered the face of the 
country. At eleven o’clock, there being no signs of the 
canoe, we lit a fire, and roasting the ducks prepared to 
make our first meal ; a couple of flat stones served as plates, 
and two pointed pieces of stick as forks. We each carried 
a sheath knife, and, sitting down, in an incredible short 
space of time naught remained but feathers and a few well- 
picked bones. We now held a council of war as to our 
next steps, wishing to push on to Becscie river, fifteen miles 
distant, where there was good fishing, and leave the canoe 
to follow us as best it could. After many arguments on 
both sides, we determined to proceed, and left the Point at 
half past twelve o’clock. For the first six miles we got on 
very well, as by walking along the reefs, which lay in large 
flat slabs of limestone, now nearly dry, we managed to cut 
off the numerous indentations of the coast and keep from 
cape to cape. With the rise of the tide, however, we had 
to follow the beach, and soon began to find the difference. 
On we struggled over shingle, which, slipping at every foot- 
step, made walking most laborious, and occasionally 
through long grass up to our waists, with fallen timber and 
other little stumbling blocks to ruffle our tempers. Flani- 
gan complained bitterly at having started without a good 
meal, and, in a true soldier-like spirit, saying that ‘‘had he 
been on the line of march the ortherly officer would have 
had a report long ago.” Five o’clock came, and still on 
we toiled, heartily sorry at having left the canoe, as partly 
from hunger and partly from the heat of the day we began 
to feel rather done up. Now we were wading through 
streams up to our knees to cut off a corner, now plunging 
through weeds and brushwood, more than once feeling in- 
clined to give up, but still holding on, knowing that our 
only chance lay in reaching the river betore nightfall. 
From the hurry we were in many points of interest no 
doubt escaped our observation, but we could not help no- 
ticing some of the more prdminent features of the land- 
scape. Jow wooded spits of land and grassy points enclose 
innumerable ponds and lagoons, into most of which the 
tide flows, while picturesque creeks receive frequent small 
but rapid streams, some of great beauty. One especially 
we could not help admiring, as, rushing down between 
banks of densely packed spruce, the stream formed a suc- 
cession of tiny falls, over which the waters leaped and 
danced in glistening cascades. Here and there rich glades, 
covered with luxuriant grass, form: park-like openings in 
the woods and relieve the eye, which is apt to grow tired of 
the perpetual vistas of spruce and pine. These rivulets, 
though too small to admit of trout, make up by the retreats 
they afford to wild fowl for any deficiency of the ‘‘finny 
tribe.” With the rise of the tide flight after flight of black, 
blue-wing, and green-wing duck, shelldrake, et dd genus 
omne, came in from the reefs and settled down upon the 
streams and ponds which border the coast. Often as we 
‘rounded some point and lit suddenly on a concealed lagoon 
we might have killed seven or eight birds in one shot, so 
closely together were they swimming in its waters, while 
by availing ourselves of the cover of the adjoining wood 
we might have enjoyed the prettiest flight-shooting possi- 
ble. It was tantalizing to have to turn our backs upon 
what would have been magnificent sport, but as time 
was an object, and every additional weight told, we only 
killed two birds, so that in case it came to the worst, and 
we had to sleep on the road, we might have something to 
eat. 
About six o’clock a direction board, with the inscription 
“Fifteen miles west to Provision Post,” gladdened our eyes. 
If our information was correct we had now but five miles 
further to go, and we proceeded with fresh vigor. The 
evening soon closed in, and I was just thinking of hailing 
De Courcy, who was ahead, to debate a halt, cook a duck, 
and then push on, when a distant ‘‘halloo” from Flanigan 
attracted my attention. I waited until he came up, when 
he began a pitiful tale of his sufferings, and the following 
conversation ensued :—‘‘Well, Flanigan, what’s the mat- 
ter?” “Shure, sir, I can’t go another shtep.” ‘Nonsense, 
come along, man.” ‘‘Faix, ye can go along, but I’d rather 
lie down in the road and die.” ‘‘Tut, man, we’ve only 
three or four miles further.” ‘‘Begorra, I won’t budge ; 
why in the name of fortin did we lave the commissary this 
mornin’, and we widout a blessed dhrop of tea or anything 
ilse ?’—(this last viciously at me, as he had, with De Cour- 
cy, been opposed to leaving the canoe.) ‘Weill, it was a 
mistake, [ll admit, Flanigan ; but cheer up and let’s get 
on.” “It was a sorry day I left Quebec ; faix, if I reach 
there alive agin it won’t be in these thom-foolin’ expeditions 
yell ketch me.” 
Having delivered himself of this very uncomplimentary 
allusion to our trip, and evidently appeased at having ad- 
ministered arebuke to me for abandoning the ‘‘commis- 
sary,” Flanigan condescended to get up from the beach 
where he had been sitting during the above dialogue, and 
we jogged along for another half hour, when a shout from 
De Courcy broke on our ears. In the gloom of the even- 
ing we could indistinctly follow the outlines of the coast, 
which appeared to bend inland, and I was in hope that De 
Courcy had reached the river, when the loud baying of a 
dog rang through the air. Never had dog’s bark sounded 
so sweetly before. We now knew we were safe, and press- 
ing on soon found ourselves confronted by De Courcy and 
aman, who led the way up a small bank to his house. We 
learned that where we had set out thismorning the distance 
was twenty-one miles, but as we had been following up 
duck during the forenoon, and going inland, we could not 
have walked less than twenty-seven or twenty-cight. It 
was the hardest day’s work I ever had, as the roads were 
atrocious, and made the distance quite equal to thirty-five 
or forty miles, while of course travelling on empty sto- 
machs added to our difficulties. 
On looking round after supper we failed to perceive more 
than one room (that we were in), which opened into a small 
store-house, just large enough to admit of a cooking stove, 
a barrel of drinking water, and a few shelves containing 
crockery. As the apartment in question was about twelve 
feet square by eight feet high, we watched with wonder 
and no little dismay the preparations being made for our 
sleeping. Our hostess, a portly dame of sixteen stone, 
