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Terms, Five Dollars a Year. } 
‘en Cents a Copy. ‘ 
NEW YORK 
, THURSDAY, NOV. 6, 



| R73 § Volume I, Number 13. 
(oO. | 103 Fulton Street. 


For Forest and Stream. 
freA IN Gwe BRS RARE WELL TO 
LABRADOR. 
pts Sees 
{OFT the balmy south wind blows. 
K) Swift the brimming river flows; 
Now a ruffling ripple sweeps 
O’er the shallows and dusk deeps; 
‘Tis a glorious time to try 
With the salmon rod and fly. 
Now a shade obscures the stream, 
Now a snn-flash casts its gleam, 
Now the dark tides darker flow, 
Now the bright waves brighter glow; 
O’er the checkered river’s face 
Shade and sunshine run their race. 
See, by yonder sandy bar, 
Where a rock juts black and far, 
See, in yon undimpled pool, 
Deep, unfathomable, cool, 
See, where wheeling eddies gleam 
In the centre cf the stream, 
Flashing fin and fiukes display 
Where the spangled salmon lay. 
i Sweep with careful rod the flood, 
Cast the light fly many a rood; 
Ha! the salmon from the deeps 
Tike the nimble lightning leaps; 
° Now he feels the barbed steel, 
Singing, humming goes the reel; 
Soon the captive comes to land. 
Gasping on the yellow sand. 
Swelling floods of Labrador, 
Pouring rivers, torrents hoar, 
There’s a sorrow at the heart, 
As we linger ere we part. 
Far away, on winter nights 
We will dream of your delights, 
Longing to return again, 
To your desolate domain, I, McLELLAN. 
Wild Life in Slarida. 
CAMPING AMONG THE SEMINOLES. 
rE 
NUMBER ONE. 
Tar EveRGLADES—LAKE OKEECHOBEE—TIGER Tam— 
Biack Cypress Swamp—ALLIGAtors—Doa Mrar 
RaGcouts—INDIAN BELLES—QUEER EXPERIENCES. 
Y the treaty of 1842, the few Seminoles remaining in 
Florida after the war were confined to the southern 
portion of the peninsula. There they still remain, be- 
tween two and three hundred in number, leading a peace- 
ful life, cultivating their fields, and hunting. They are 
governed by two chiefs; those around the southern shore of 
Lake Okeechobee by ‘“‘Tustenuggee,” and those east of that 
great lake b;.. ‘‘Tiger Tailee.” Their intercourse with 
white men is limited to occasional trading visits to Indian 
River and the Keys. Though they have existed as ana- 
tion for one hundred years, very little is known regarding 
their language, customs, and social life. 
It was with the avowed object of studying the Indian in 
his native wilds that I left Indian River one beautiful 
spring morning in 72. I had provided myself with an ox- 
cart, oxen, of course, and a guide—though just what he 
was a guide of, and to where, I’ve not satisfactorily deter- 
mined to this day—and the usual amount of hunters’ traps. 
There was also'a colored individual, who had charge of 
the frying-pan and coffee pot. Well, we progressed favor- 
ably enough, till the second night out found us fifteen 
miles from my camp on Indian River, thirty miles from 
Okeechobee, and further travel apparently stopped by a 
long line of cypress swamp. So we camped on the ‘AL 
pattiokee.” Alpattiokee is Seminole for Alligator Creek. 
Game was abundant; deer in herds on the savannas; tur- 
keys in flocks in the ‘“‘hammocks;” the half-dry creek-bed 
swarmed with ibis and heron of every hue, and alligators 
were in abundance, They crawled upon the banks of the 
ereek, reposed upon its sand bars, and swam its waters, 



They made night hideous with their bellowings, and kept 
our mastiff in perpetual dread of being devoured by as- 
sailing him while he reposed by our camp-fire. Every in- 
ducement for the stay of hunter cr naturalist was offered, 
and every tramp and hunt would bring new additions of 
rare plants and birds to my collection. 
While hunting along the various creeks I Ciscovered 
signs of _Indians—in the sand of the dry creek-bed the im- 
pressions of moccasined fect; on its banks a ‘cabbage 
palm” with its terminal bud torn out and the leaves scat- 
tered. An old Indian camp, strewn with bones of deer, 
turkey, and tortoise showed that the place was a favorite 
hunting ground. There were fresh tracks of three Indian 
hunters, beside fainter ones of a woman and child. One 
day Jim came in with the pickininny’s playthings—an alli- 
gator tooth, two or three grotesqueiy-shaped pieces of briar 
root, and a walnut. While we were examining them we heard 
a faint tinkling in the distance, and a preliminary recon- 
noisance revealed three Indians approaching the ford in 
the creek near our camp. Affecting to be employed with 
our duties, we only looked up as they appeared, and they, 
taking no notice of us, marched on with heads erect till 
brought to a halt by Jim, who ran forward with extended 
hand and a hearty ‘‘Howdy.” Then their swarthy faces 
displayed grins which grew broad and loud as we sum- 
moned unhappy Tom to prepare a repast for the weary 
aborigines. Removing from their pony a huge pack, upon 
which was a tin kettle, which had made the tin-tinabula- 
tion we had heard, they hobbled his feet and sat de-wn. 
While they were demolishing the huge piles of flapjacks 
which Jim set before them, I had an opportunity for study- 
ing their dress and features. 
“Tiger,” the oldest, was ahout seventy years old, and 
had fought in the Seminole war. He was rather above the 
medium height, broad shouldered, massive arms, and legs 
like mahogany pillars, worn smooth and polished by many 
a brush with thicket and briar. His nose and lips indi- 
cated a trace of negro blood. His iron gray hair straggled 
over a greasy bandana bound about his temples. His broad 
shoulders were artistically draped in two ragged shirts of 
“hickory,” or striped homespun, the inner one about a foot 
longer than the outer, and reaching nearly to his knees. 
A breech cloth and moccasins completed his attire. ‘‘Char- 
ley Osceola” was a young man of twenty, claiming to be a 
descendant of the famous chief Osceola. Over six feet 
high, with broad shoulders and finely-shaped limbs, 
erect and straight, he was my beaw dédeal of an Indian 
brave. His eyes were small, black, and keen, his voice 
was musical, and he spoke ina firm, gentle manner that 
won my heart at once. His hair was thick, coarse, and 
black, with the changeable purple of the raven’s wing. It 
was shaved close at the sides, leaving a ridge on the crown, 
spreading toward the neck, and hanging in braids over the 
shoulders. His dress was similar to Tiger’s. The picka- 
ninny was hardly worth a description. Each earried a 
rifle, a reserve supply of bows and arrows, and a pouch for 
ammunition, etc. 
They obstinately refused to talk ‘‘Yankaistahadka,” or 
Yankee talk, but used their own language. It was a long 
time before I could be made to understand that ‘‘shatoka- 
nowa humkin” meant one dollar, the price of a set of bows 
and arrows, but after much labor I mastered their system 
of numeration up to a thousand, though I will now admit 
that Iwas much exercised at ‘“‘chopkakolehokolin,” and 
gave it up. 
While Osceola was making me some talipikahs, or moc- 
casins, Jim was endeavoring to extract from Tiger the 
proper route to Lake Okeechobee, and whether we could 
reach it with our ox-cart. Jim had mingled with the In- 
dians in his youth, and prided himself upon his accom plish- 
ments in the manner of dealing with them, and speaking 
their language. Tiger sat upon his haunches beneath the 
spreading branches of a live oak, looking like some ragged 
Turk. 
Jim (in a loud voice)—‘‘Okeechohee; you savez?” 
Tiger—‘‘Encah,” (yes), 

Jim—“‘Okeechobee; me go; walkah (oxen) go; Yankais- 
tahadka go; hey?” 
Tiger—‘‘Eucah; walkah, me eatum; good!” 
Jim—‘‘No, you old fool, (emphasized); you know more’n 
you pertend; walkah no slumpy, slumpy, no sticky, icky 
in the mud; that’s what I mean.” 
Tiger—‘‘Haich!” 
Jim—‘‘Oh, you old black leg; you consarned old mana- 
tee! Can’t you talk Istachatta (Indian), or do yer mean to 
go back on yer native tongue? Come, now, talk Yankee 
talk; none of your dog-goned nonsense and hog Latin. 
Okeechobee, me go; walkah go; cartah go; Istalusta (mu- 
latto) go; no get stuckah, no have to come backah; hey?” 
[This in fearful tones, for Jim held, with many others, 
that you could make any foreigner understand, provided 
you spoke loud enough]. 
Tiger—“‘Istalusta; shookah, me giye um; pahlen!” and 
he looked wistfully at Tom. 
Jim—“‘Ten hogs for that nigger! There, I'll give up; 
the—something—heathenish old chattymico don’t know 
Injun no more’n a cracker!” 
A peculiar twinkle of Tiger’s eyes convinced me that he 
‘knew more’n he pertended,” but what his reasons were 
for baffling Jim’s curiosity I didn’t know till later. 
That night we left our camp on the Alpattioke, and made 
our fire at the foot of the ‘‘forked cabbage,” on a branch 
of the Alpattie. The Indians accompainied us, though 
unasked. It seems that Tiger had divined Jim’s mean- 
ing, and had determined to prevent us from reaching our 
destination. He had concocted a fearful scheme to pre- 
vent our departure —it was to eat ws out. I didn’t know it 
at the time, or I shouldn’t have aided them as I did. 
The shades of night and the time for our evening repast 
drew near. In honor of our guests, Tom had cooked just 
four times the usual quantity of flapjacks, besides our last 
steak of venison. Ihad devoured but one flapjack, and 
was about securing’ another, when, lo! they were not. 
Tiger sat dignified and sad; Charley dignified and serious; 
“Fistilokeen” dignified and dirty. The corners of their 
mouths ran hog juice, their faces and hands were unctuous 
with it, yet there they sat, patiently waiting, sad and se- 
rious; grieved, even, judging from their countenances. 
Tom refused to cook any more. 
“Ts-ta-lus-ta lazy; ho-la-wan-gus!” said Tiger, 
Thus taunted, Tom broke open our last package of flour, 
and busied himself, cursing the Indian the while, till they 
all united in a satisfied ‘me full!” These untutored “sons 
of the forest” soon left us with their customary ‘‘me hi- 
epus j” (me go), and we were not very sorry that, to use 
their own expression, they were ‘‘sui-cus }” (gone). From 
Tom’s quarters that night I heard a muttered blessing upon 
the ‘‘Is-ta-chat-tas.” In the morning they brought a peace 
offering of venison, and that night we had an alligator 
hunt by moonlight. 
I shall never forget the weird aspect of the scene spread 
out before us, as we assembled silently upon the banks of 
the creek. The creek-bed could be traced through the vast 
plain by the occasional clumps of palms till lost in the 
swamp far beyond. The bright plumaged herons, that told 
of its meanderings as they hovered over it by day, were 
now gone, and silence, as of the grave, reigned over us, 
The creek-bed was dry and exposed, except at intervals 
there were great holes full of ligators—rightly called 
“alligator holes.” Here, crowded together, they were pa- 
tiently awaiting the setting in of the rainy season, which 
would set them free from their narrow prisons. 
The ‘°gaitors” seemed to have had notice of our coming, 
as, when we gathered upon the steep bank, not a head was 
visible. ‘‘Ump, ump, ump!” said Fistilokeen, imitating 
the grunting of a young alligator. Soon a dozen knotty 
heads showed themselves, peering anxiously above the 
water. At the slightest motion they would disappear. 
“Ump, ump, ump, ump, ump!” 
The evil-looking eyes again appeared, and the round noses 
gave utterance to similar though louder sounds, Up they 
came, silently, cautiously, till I counted twenty-seven 
above the water of the little pond, Giving me the line, 
