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Volume I, Number 7. 
Terms, Five Dollars a Year. } 
Ten Cents a Copy. (i 
NEW YORK, THURSDAY, SEPT, 25, 1873. 
103 Fulton Street. 

For Forest and Stream. 
SEPTEMBER. 
SOWA Pe 
Charmed is my eye to-day, 
As cooler breezes play 
Around my pathway by this mountain stream; 
Not yet has summer gone, 
Tho’ days have rolled us on 
*Till harvest moon through clouds of Autumn gleam. 
But lingering with us still, 
Her voice among the hills, 
With mellow tones of Autnmn mingling sweet, 
Gently as she glides away, 
And gone the summer day, 
E’re we haye missed the music of her feet. 
Oh, golden harvest-time, 
Ye come with solemn rhyme, 
To warn us that September of our life 
Shall come to us ere long, 
And hush the summer song, 
And God shall garner us from eyery strife. 
Oh bright September day, 
Fond memory is at play, 
Among the many’scenes that you recall, 
Fresh breezes breathing joy, 
Make me again a boy, 
And waft away the clouds of sadness ali. 
Now from the marshy ground, 
With merry whistling sound, 
The snipe fiy up in many a zigzag line— 
Tm yain the wild ducks hide 
In reeds by river side, 
My trusty gun speaks out and they are mine. 
I feel the sluggish blood 
Go bounding like a flood 
Back to a youthful heart again to-day ; 
And such a moment’s bliss 
Is years in world like this. 
Oh, could we linger always by the way! 
Hiram E. GRirFitu. 
. Bown the Datamac. 
Po ole : 
NO. I--THE WATERING PLACES. 
ph gla 
N the summer months Washington resembles a deserted 
village, The salary-grabbers, the Credit Mobilierites, 
the Washington Tammanyites, the plethoric-pursed con- 
tractor, the uppermost of Government officials; the design- 
ing mammas, with marriageable daughters—in brief, shoddy 
and the créme de la créme—flee from the heat and dust of the 
Capital to Saratoga, Long Branch, Cape May, the Virginia 
springs, and other ‘‘fashionable’’ resorts, for change of air, 
fare, and dissipation. For the thousands whose oceupa- 
tions and purses will not permit of such extravagant pleas- 
ures, there remains the Potomac—noble stream that it is— 
bringing cool breezes to the feverish city, and nourishing in 
its depths oysters, crabs, and the best of fish. I might tell 
of the Little and Great Falls, above Washington, and of 
the black bass fishing, but the caption of these papers for- 
bids. Mine is the pleasing duty to tell of life down the 
Potomac—of watering places unknown to the fashionable 
world, but frequented by boating men. fishermen, and peo- 
ple who feel most at home in their old clothes. The Wash- 
ingtonian who can only spare an hour daily for recreation 
may enjoy the cool breezes of the river by taking the ferry 
boat to Alexandria and return at a cost of twenty-five cents 
for the round trip. He will pass and repass the navy yard, 
will have glimpses of green hills, shady groves, rippling 
water, white sails, puffing steam tugs, laden coal barges, 
a fleet of shipping, and enjoy the while a pure air and deli- 
cious breeze. Farther down the river are Glymont and 
Marshall Hall, accessible by excursion boats and resorted to 
by picnic parties and yachting parties. Here rum and riot 
sometime prevail, but there are ‘‘select excursions,” which 
provide their own champagne, and indulge in gentlemanly 
intoxication by moonlight or otherwise, Of course there 
are dancing pavillions, and hotels where meals and mixed 




brought in with the dessert, we walked down to the wharf, 
drinks are supplied; and here shad-bakes take place in their 
season. 
Planked shad is a Potomac delicacy, and deserves brief 
mention, e’en though the last voces of summer have disap- 
peared from the larder. Jmprimis, you draw a seine to 
catch your shad. As this operation is not always success- 
ful, it is well to have provided asupply of fish for the party 
beforehand. Then you want a roaring fire, and some hard 
wood planks, planed smooth. These planks are stood 
against the bank, near the fire, until thoroughly heated. 
Then the fish, which have been split, nicely cleaned, and 
sprinkled with salt, are fastened to the planks, which are 
again placed against the bank, where the fire will cook and 
nicely brown the shad. May the shadows of planked shad 
never grow less. 
Of the best known summer resorts farther down the river 
may be mentioned Colton’s, Leonardtown, Blackstone's 
Island, Piney Point, Marshall’s, and Point Lookout, the 
latter a point of land at the mouth of the Potomac, with a 
splendid beach fronting on Chesapeake Bay. The attrac- 
tions at all these places are boating, fishing, bathing, crab- 
bing, and a fare composed almost exclusively of fish and 
oysters. Save at Piney Point, the terms are very moder- 
ate—$2 per day, $10 per week, and $30 to $35 per month. 
Piney Point was quite a fashionable resort long before the 
war, and has sometimes, though inaptly, been called the 
Southern Long Branch. It has fallen somewhat into dis- 
repute of late, partly through the unpopularity of its man- 
agers, but largely because of those ravenous pests, the 
mosquitoes, who are no respecters of persons. The cot- 
tages and hotel buildings stand in a grove of pine trees near 
the beach, and inthe rear isa pool of brackish water. 
This swamp and the surrounding foliage are thought to ac- 
count for the prevalence of mosquitoes, from which the 
place is only free when a strong breeze blows up the river. 
The Potomac at this point is eight miles wide, and a south- 
erly wind creates quite a respectable surf. The beach is 
somewhat abrupt, and therefore dangerous to those who 
cannot swim, though I have never heard of any fatal acci- 
dents here. The bottom is hard and sandy, but as one oc- 
casionally encounters an oyster shell it is advisable to wear 
bathing shoes. This is the only place on the river which 
boasts of a tenpin alley and billiard table; but. of other 
amusements there is a painful dearth. You may catch 
crabs and small fish from the wharf, but if you wish to 
sail you must hire a boat at so much per hour; and during 
the past summer, for weeks at a time, there were no boats 
to be had for love or money. There is music and dancing 
at night, an excellent table, and the arrival and departure 
of the three or four steamers which ply up and down the 
Potomac help to dispel the monotony. It will be seen that 
Piney Point is no place for the sportsman or the lover of 
aquatic sports. It would bea fashionable watering place 
if it could, and put on airs, but during the past summer its 
cottages were for the most part untenanted, and the season 
was an utter failure pecuniarily. 
Point Lookout, according to the distance-table of the 
steamer Lady of the Lake, is 113 miles from Washington, 
at the mouth of the Potomac river. It is a watering place 
gone to seed, but a top dressing of greenbacks would soon 
cause it to blossom forth again, as the place has many natu- 
ral advantages. A railroad to Washington is now in pro- 
cess of construction, which will not only open up anew 
country, but tend to build up Point Lookout as a winter 
port for the shipment of fish, oysters, and produce. The 
distance by the land route is much less than by the river, 
and it is expected the journey from Washington to Point 
Lookout will be made on the railroad inside of three hours. 
This will enable business men who send their families here 
for the summer torun down at night and return in the 
morning, or, at least, to come down Saturday night and 
remain until Monday morning. But for the check received 
from the war Point Lookout would to-day be the most 
prosperous watering place south of Cape May. It had 
been laid out on a grand scale, and many of the improve- 
ments completed, A hotel building had been erected, and 

there must have been between three and four hundred one 
and two-story cottages. Walks, drives, ponds, and foun- 
tains appear upon the lithographic plan issued by the pro- 
prietors, but of these not a vestige is seen to-day. During 
the war the place was taken possession of by the Govern- 
ment, and used as a naval station anda prison pen. Whole 
rows of cottages were burned in wantonness, or torn down 
for fuel, and as no repairs have been made from that day 
until this, the remaining buildings are in the last stages of 
dilapidation and decay. The hotel building is barely habi- 
table, and a two-story villa is in a fair state of preservation, 
though nearly undermined by the waters of Chesapeake 
Bay, which now wash up under the verandah; but the re- 
maining cottages are leaky as seives, and ready to tumble 
down. The property was sold for taxes during the war, 
and bought by a Miss Baker, a hospital nurse, and one of 
the strong minded. It is said she bid in the cottages at $1 
apiece. This sale has been the cause of litigation ever 
since, and has prevented any improvement or repairs. Be- 
lieving possession to be nine points of the law, Miss Baker 
has lived on in the main building, dragging out a precarious 
existence by the rent of a cottage or two, and the “taking 
in” of an occasional guest. 
I shall never forget my first’ visit to the place, a little 
more than a year ago. The original wharf has nearly dis- 
appeared, and one constructed by the Government during 
the war, now used ror the landing of passengers, is rotten 
as punk, full of holes, and tottering to its fall. Yet upon 
this dangerous and rickety structure our party of five—two 
ladies and three gentlemen—was landed between twelve 
and one o’clock one dark night. That we reached the shore 
in safety was little less than a miracle. Then, heading for 
a twinkling light in the distance, we walked ankle deep in 
sand for a quarter of a mile or more, and entering a door . 
in a barn-like structure, which loomed up through the dark- 
ness, found ourselves in a large, dimly-lighted room, which 
we afterward learned was the dining-room: Here we met 
the hostess, a gaunt, weather-beaten woman, ina dark dress, 
which clung closely to her angular figure, and barefooted. 
After some delay, a lantern was procured, and we were 
marched up stairs to our sleeping ;apartments. The first 
couple were assigned a room, and given a candle, stuck in 
a goblet, to light them to bed, and there remained another 
couple and the writer to be disposed of. We were finally 
given a suite, and, the inner room containing a double bed, 
the outer of course fell to my lot. The furniture of these 
rooms was of the simplest description. The inner room 
contained, beside the bed, a chair and an eight by ten mir- 
ror, and the outer a single bed and washstand. But one 
candle could be obtained for the party, and in undressing 
by the light which shone through the transom I hung my 
clothes on the floor and went to bed. In the morning, after 
performing my ablutions, taking care to use but one end of 
the solitary towel furnished, I passed the washstand into 
the next room and received the mirror in return, At break- 
fast we were waited on by the hostess herself, still bare- 
footed, and the cook, who wore an apron filthy beyond de- 
scription. The bill of fare comprised some scraps of cold: 
fish, a dish of chicken legs, and a cold decoction of chick- 
ory. Asking for a glass of water, we were told there were 
no glasses (they were all in use as candlesticks); but on in- 
sisting some tepid water was brought:in a teacup. During 
the morning we went in bathing, and though assured there 
were no sea-nettles in the vicinity, our party were all more 
or less badly stung by them.. An application of fresh water 
is said to furnish instant relief, but this remedy being then 
unknown to us we used sweet oil, without any perceptible 
benefit. The beach is certainly a fine one in many respects. 
It slopes down very gradually—indeed, one may wade half 
a mile from shore—and there is of course very little under- 
tow. The bottom is hard and smooth, but one frequently 
encounters oyster shells, which cut the feet severely. An 
expert swimmer would find little pleasure here, but for 
women and children the bathing is excellent. After a din- 

‘ner of chicken legs (there must be a peculiar breed of-chick- 
ens hereabouts) and some cold chicken soup, which was 
over which we had made the perilous passage of the night 
