
pork. Wehad saved this same pork till the last, hoping 
that we could induce some unwary Indian to accept it in 
lieu of more palatable food. But no Seminole was so ac- 
commodating, and we chewed it in silence. The rind was 
an inch thick, and had the appearance of amber. I sliced 
my piece thin and bolted it, and when my guide said it 
was six years old I didn’t, raise a doubt. 
In the morning we awoke refreshed, and heading our 
horses northward we set out. Notwithstanding his age 
and experience, my guide allowed his fears to control him, 
and would not stop to secure one of the many deer that 
grazed about us for fear that we should not reach our des- 
tination, and should have to pass another night in the 
woods. 
Towards noon we emerged upon the Kissimer prairie, 
and then could tell with tolerable certainty the course to 
take. Abandoning all bope of reaching the river we struck 
for the old military road, hoping to reach it before night. 
Faint and weary as we were, he would not rest, bu’ pressed 
insanely on, with but one idea—to reach a settler’s cabin 
before night set in. As for me I did not care. I was at 
the mercy of my guide, and could do nothing with him in 
his present state. 
To turn my back upon Lake Okeechobee, and give over 
all hope of seeing it required a hard struggle. But I had 
to yield to necessity, and so every hour saw us further and 
further away. Towards noon we stopped at a brackish 
pool to quench our thirst, and here I ate my dinner, though 
I didn’t mean to, as it consisted of two small fish, which 
went down alive in the muddy water and met an untimely 
death. On and on we rushed. The deer sprang up from 
their noonday rest and skipped away, with their white 
banners waving tantalizingly near. Sand hill cranes flew 
screaming from under our very noses. Thousands of cat- 
tle now appeared dotting the prairie. In the midst of 
plenty we had passed nearly twenty-four hours without 
food. In the afternoon I grew weary of the continual 
striking of my saddle-bags against my legs, and lightened 
ship by throwing over fhe heaviest of my treasures. A 
bottle of arsenic went first, then five pounds of shot, a lot 
of cartridges, and everything not actually necessary. 
The finder will be suitably rewarded. 
Just before we reached the trail we were secking a beau- 
tiful fox sprung up, and, stopping a minute too long to 
look at the first men he probably ever met, I gave hima 
flying shot from the saddle that tumbled him over. Then I 
was sorry that I had killed the animal for mere sport, and 
vowed I'd not do it again.. Yet so strong is the instinct 
that, riding within forty yards of a deer—offering too beau- 
tiful a shot to resist—I handed my gun to my guide and 
let him shoot. But he didn’t hit him, and I wished ’d 
fired instead. As the sun dipped below the horizon we 
rode out upon the old military road that crosses the penin- 
sula from the Atlantic to the Gulf. We struck it near the 
site of old Fort Dunn, the parade ground of which is still 
in tolerable condition, and cantering a mile or two further 
soon sighted the settler’s house and were happy. 
Though this man owned hundreds of cattle, and counted 
as his all the acres he desired, he had nothing in the larder 
but a few sweet potatoes; but he freely shared those few. 
After a man has fasted twenty-four hours, buttermilk and 
sweet potatoes will fill a void acceptably. That night we 
slept beneath a roof, and J shared a bed with four vigorous 
boys,and about three millions of very active fleas. Yet, 
though the fleas possessed uncommon agility, and showed 
decidedly phlebotomous dispositions, and though there 
was music in the air, and everywhere else, from the joint 
and several efforts of the various nosesin the room, and 
though the boys aforesaid procured a corner in blankets, 
and left me open to the attacks of several very bloodthirsty 
bands of mosquitoes, J slept. And it was sweet potatoes 
and buttermilk that awoke me in the morning. Thirty 
miles we accomplished before dark that day, riding across 
the St. John’s prairies, which fairly swarmed with turkeys, 
and over the Alapattie flats, where we found the creeks, so 
dry when we left, full to overflowing. What was my sur- 
prise, when I reached my guide’s cabin, to find Indian Par- 
ker there with a lot of deer skins, which I had bought, 
paid for and left—since then giving up all hope of seeing 
them. Such is Seminole honesty! 
What white man would have ridden sixty miles to re- 
store another’s goods? I knew of one who wouldn’t. 
FRED BEVERLY. 

0 
—It having been along disputed question, even among 
well informed anglers, whether the common brook trout 
had scales, the editor of the Washington Sunday Herald 
addressed letters to many of the leading naturalists and 
sportsmen of the country, and has received such testimony, 
including that of Professors Baird and Agassiz, as compels 
a full conviction that they have. 
> 0 Be 
—From the circular of a distinguished dancing master, 
we extract the following mild sarcasm: ‘‘Dancing, when 
properly taught and practiced, is the very best safeguard 
against the evils of over-mental education, to which Ameri- 
can young ladies are so subject.@.This education is often 
carried to such an extent, that the children have scarcely 
any leisure for recreation.” 
te 
—Digby, the other day, found some money in the street. 
“Ah,” said he, with a knowing look, ‘papers have been 
saying that money’s tight, but I wouldn’t have believed it 
if I hadn’t found it in the cutter.” 
FOREST AND STREAM, _ 

AUTUMN IN NOVA SCOTIA. 
NUMBER TWO. 


T was quaintly said by Charles Lamb that he never 
got up ‘‘until the day was well aired,” and it 
must be confessed that on the morning after our arrival at 
Purdy’s, we indulged ourselves in a long rest, until the 
sunlight had dried the dew from the mountain tops and 
driven the shadows from the valleys. It was a Sunday 
morning, and from Sugarloaf to the distant arms of the 
sea, a hush hung over all until one turned at the rustle 
of a falling leaf, and almost started at the movement of a 
bird. 
A rumor came to us that a bear was making havoc with 
a settler’s sheep, so after breakfast we wandered down to a 
valley near by, following paths that a lady would deem 
easy, yet they led at once to the mysteries of the wild 
woods. 
Little brooks struggled up into the sunshine from deep 
mossy banks, and prattled with a playfulness that waters 
do not possess in ‘‘the open,” any more than children’s glee 
carries its sparkle under cbservation. Ferns waved in their 
shadow dance, and grew with that luxuriant plume that 
characterizes them only when the air playing with their 
dainty sprays is the damp breath that has come for miles 
under the cool shade of unbroken forest; bright berries, 
coral hued, set in nests of leaves, were everywhere; mosses 
in* infinite variety crept out‘'to the very roadway, while 
lichens on the granite rocks, and vines clinging to the 
varied trees, gave evidence that here the wild power of 
nature was yet supreme, and her untrammeled sway was 
beating back with insidious growth, and an eager press of 
beautiful foliage, the narrow open lines that man had made, 
It is one peculiar feature of this land, the ease and com- 
fort with which one can reach and enjoy the real wilder- 
ness. Here, not far from an old stage road, a few steps 
carried us from a house with every comfort, at once to 
woods that will stand for years as they are now, and as they 
were when discovered. And here we rambled, following a 
well beaten road, where in the forests about all the game 
animals still remained, (with perhaps the exception of the 
wolf,) and in which if man keeps his destructive instincts 
within bounds, they will remain; for now nearer and more 
genial soils are open to the emigrant, while the hardy sons 
of Nova Scotia are more inclined to seek fate or fortune on 
the ocean that surrounds them, or to employ the energy 
that comes as a birth-right to all Americans, in our great 
cities, than to contend at odds with the chances agriculture 
has in the brief uacertain summer. Here and there a set- 
tlement of charcoal burners are invading the forest; and in 
winter there are raids into the backwoods for spars, knees 
and timber; but miles and miles of wilderness, vast wastes 
of Moose plains and Caribou barrens, are known only to 
hunters, where if the Jaws of production are not too ruth- 
lessly violated, game will maintain itself in abundance, 
while in stream, pond and estuary, fish and aquatic game 
are striving with full natural instinct to breed and multiply. 
And the wild inhabitants of Nova Scotia are among the 
most noble of our great continent. The Moose has no peer, 
and it is man’s best cunning and greatest skill alone that 
overmatch this supurb “monarch of the glen;” the Caribou, 
fleet, aiert, and suspicions, is worthy of the courage and 
endurance that are needed to follow and surprise them; the 
large bear with strength to fell an oxis no mean foe before the 
best armed hunter, while smaller game is on every side, less 
in size, but full of the cunning and secresy so interesting to 
the naturalist. In the boiling streams that come from the 
mountain ponds, bearing the amber color that tells of a 
birth-place far from homes or clearings, arising as it does 
from the mass of vegetation of the deep swamps—are the 
salmon, the sea trout and many less worthy fish; while in 
all the noisy brooks and silent, shadowy ponds, the brook 
trout abound, often where the king fisher, the heron and the 
otter are the only enemies that arouse timidity. 
When we crossed the larger streams, we cast grasshop- 
pers into the eddies, and watched their perilous voyage. 
Now and then a drooping sedge or broken branch rescued 
the castaway, but usually a gleam, a flash as of a jewelled 
hand, a dimpling circle widening over the spot, and the 
bait was gone. 
There is an infinite pleasure in a weodland Sabbath. 
Following a brook intent upon a heavy basket, the fish are 
quickly caught or alarmed and wounded, seek refuge; birds 
and game fall or fly before an eager shot to be seen no 
more, but when one divests himself of rod and gun, and 
with no haste or purpose lingers among the ‘‘aisles of 
God’s first temples,” he may feed the shyest fish and almost 
tame them, and with a glass find more to admire in the 
beauty, fitness and gentle wildness of even larger game than 
could ever be learned over the bead of a gun or the fall of a 
fly. Some of our most accurate observers of all the 
minutia of forest life, by whose pens we are carried in 
easy chair and slippers almost into the breath and shadow 
of the woodland, carried no guns, nor used a rod; and the 
keenest sportsman may gain a new pleasure, with a deeper 
insight into the ‘‘good in everything,” by taking one day 
of seven to linger with eye, ear and heart among the 
wonders no hand has wrought, which were in all their 
grace and beauty with no recognition until the refined mind 
and discriminating eye of the lover of nature came. 
With all this wild life about us we idled our way to the 
settler’s home with the hope of finding such indications of 
bruin’s ravages as would enable us to learn his ways and 
watch for his coming, but in this we were disappointed. 
He had killed some sheep, but it was in a remote pasture, 
and we could not awaken animosity or energy enough to 

organize a hunt for him, so abandoning our sanguinary 
ambition we sauntered homewards to look over the limit- 
less view commanded by our windows, and make plans for 
visiting trout ponds on the morrow. And here pardon our 
discursive pen, for of this said pond-fishing it was our 
purpose now to write, while after all the pen has only been 
a truant to the aim, and the letter reaches its limit without 
the cast of a fly. It shall not again so sin, but in our next 
will end with pond-fishing, an Autumn in Nova Scotia. 
Bb Mis Bb. 
See 
QUAIL SHOOTING IN MARYLAND. 
ae 
Eprror Forrest anp STREAM:— 
If you can spare enough space in your valuable paper, I 
will write a simple account of two days’ quail shooting 
down in Maryland, hoping that it may interest.a few of 
your many readers, and possibly furnish information to 
some who would like to know where good shooting can be 
had, 
On Monday morning, October 20th, my friend Harry J. 
and your humble servant, who will always answer to the 
name of Al, started with a brace of dogs, a pointer and 
setter, named ‘‘Fred” and ‘“‘Gypsie,” a Scott breech-loader 
No. 10 each, and a trunk containing hunting suits and am- 
munition, for Cambridge, on the eastern shore of Mary- 
land. It rained in torrents, but not aé all discouraged by 
the weather, we jumped aboard of the nine o’clock train for 
Baltimore, expecting to take the boat that night down the 
Chesapeake. After putting our dogs in the care of ‘‘Sam,”’ 
‘the well-known baggage master, feeling assured that they 
would be well cared for, we seated ourselves as comfort- 
ably as possible, stuffed our pipes, and settled down for an 
eight hours’ ride. Upon our arrival at Baltimore, we met 
our first disappointment—the boat did not run Mondays, 
so we could do nothing but wait until the following night, 
thereby losing one day’s shooting, quite an item when your 
time is limited. Not wishing to stay in the city a full day 
and night, we, upon the recommendation of a friend acci- 
dentally met, procured a carriage and drove across the long 
bridge spanning the Patapsco River, to ‘‘Sam Acton’s” Road 
House, and put up for the night, expecting to pass the fol- 
lowing day by tramping around the country, hardly hoping 
to run across any birds. We however returned to the ho- 
tel at night with ten quail, my friend Harry having all the 
luck, shooting nine of them. We were told that it was a 
very good bag for that place, and I assure you we worked 
hard to get them. After partaking of a good and hearty 
supper, we again started on our journey, this time with 
success. The boat—the old Highland Light—started at 
nine o’clock that night, and efter attending to our compan- 
ions, the dogs, and procuring state-rooms, we turned in, 
expecting and dreaming of glorious sport on the morrow. 
Long before sunrise we were dressed and on deck, enjoying 
the lovely scenery down the Choptank River. As soon as 
old ‘‘Sol” made his appearance, the river seemed alive with 
water-fowl; it made no difference in what direction we 
turned our eyes, they were sure to rest on ducks, flying 
over and around us. We passed some that were sitting on 
the water, which were actually too lazy to get out of the way 
of the wash from the paddles. We arrived at Cambridge 
about. eight o’clock inthe morning, and were directed by 
the clerk of the boat to put up at the Dorchester House, on 
account of the proprietor being a thorough sportsman. We 
soon found out that he hardly knew the difference between 
a gun anda fishing-rod, so we had to beat the country 
the best we could, without any directions what- 
ever, and when night came we returned to the hotel minus _ 
birds, tired out and discouraged, and ready to pack up and 
start for home. Fortunately for us we met the proprietor 
of a rival hotel, ‘‘Vern Rea,” so called by all his friends, 
and a whole-souled, thorough sportsman and gentleman we 
found him. We soon ‘‘scraped” up an acquaintance, and 
heard from him that birds were plenty about four or five 
miles out of town, and if we would stay he would take us 
to the grounds the following day. Our drooping spirits re- 
vived immediately, and in an amazingly short space of 
time we had our “‘traps” transferred to the Bramble House, 
ate a tip-top supper, loaded our metallic shells, smoked a 
pipe, and “‘turned in,” anxiously awaiting sun-up, and im- 
patient to commence our sport, so long delayed; nor were 
we disappointed this time. Day broke bright and clear, 
and by seven o’clock dogs, guns, and sportsmen were snug- 
ly packed in a wagon, driving down the road at a spanking 
trot; after a ride of about an hour, we drew up at the side 
of a wheat stubble and tumbled out. Our party consisted 
of four—Vern Rea, George Dale (as good-natured and as 
lazy as you can possibly imagine), Harry, and myself, 
“Now, boys,” commenced Rea, ‘‘if you watch us and do 
as we tell you we will teach you how to shoot; mind, take 
your time.” 
“All right,” replied Harry, winking at me, ‘“‘we need a 
little instruction, so let’s start; Iam crazy to burn a little 
powder, if it’s only in the way of a salute. Al, you take 
this side of the hedge, and Rea and myself will hunt the 
other; Dale is going further on with the horse; Hie, on 
Fred!” ‘ 
Off we started; my setter pup was as wildas a hawk, it 
being her first lesson in the field, consequently I had my 
hands full attending to her. Presently I heard Rea cry 
out ‘‘Look sharp, boys, the pointer has struck a trail; now 
he stops, here is a bevy sure, now don’t waste shot.” .Up 
jump some twenty full-grown birds. Bang! bang! Rea has 
two down. The next instant Henry knocks down one with 
each barrel,and as they pass on my side I let drive the right 
hand barrel, and drop a fine cock bird. After reloading 
and retrieving our dead birds we start off again; my pup 
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