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g| The Hunter of the “ Far West.”
\The following animated Sketch is from Oliver’s
“ Eight Months in Illinois.’’
| The hunter is always poor, and in some
Jjgjeasure despised by his more industrious
lfjighbors; and when a man once ac
squires a habit of wandering in the path
jless wilderness in search of game, it takes
5 Much hold of him, that he very rarely
• shakes it olT; indeed, the occupation re
Squires a vigilance so absorbing, as speedi
ly to characterir-e his whole manner.
*Tho old hunter’s eye is never at rest;
inert him 'where you will, in the forest or
Svithin the walis of a house, and whilst he
conversing with yen, his eye will he
wandering slowly and intently from ob
ect to object; and if on his feet, he will
ie constantly shifting his position, and.
vith his head and shoulders depressed
,vith habitual caution, will repeatedly
iweep the entire circle of vision.
The real hunter is the pioneer of Amer
can civilization. Me is the first to dis-
Mite the possession of the wilderness with
he red man and the wild denizens of the
orest, and in some measure, like them,
s intolerant of the near approach of a
jopulation bringing with it the trammels
md interruptions of civilized institutions.
Hie sound of the axe iu the woods is hate
ful to him; and no sooner does the smoke
| of the settlor's fire become frequent u his
neighborhood, than, packing up his move
ables, and placing them in a vehicle of
most primitive construction, he, with his
family, seeks a more congenial home in
those solitudes where nature still holds
undisputed sway.
He buys no land, nor asks no one’s
leave to build his hut, or till his little corn
patch. Let not the inhabitants of the
■crowded city think, that in doing this the
‘ hunter makes any great sacrifice; he is
1 merely giving way to the impulse of
habit, and choosing what is most agree
} able to his tastes. He was born in soli
§ tude. No busy-hum of men—no “sound
of church-going bell,” ever saluted his
young ears. All his feelings, all his rea
sonings, are influenced by the loneliness
b* in which they were conceived. His as
■eociations are not tinctured with the busy
"Crowds and hum of cities, but with the
F still solitudes of the primeval forest. He
* has not learned to philosophise on the
ebb and flows in the destinies of congre
gated millions ; but he has wondered and
mused on the banks of some leviathan
I river, rolling its waters along, whether he
* knows not whence he cannot tell—a
I dream, a mystery.
Your true hunter is often simple-mind
ed, unaffected child of nature; true, he is
ignorant, but this ignorance includes the
follies and very many of vices of civili
zed life. The worst example of his tribe
is he who has not fled before the influx of
population, and who, impatient of the res
i traints of industrious habits, has gener-
K ally reaped nothing from civilization be-
its vices and its scorn.
The hunter of the West generally fol
lows his occupation on horseback; and a
more picturesque turnout, or one more in
keeping with the accompanying scenery,
is not often to be met with. He gener
ally wears a broad brimmed palmetto hat,
covering a profusion of hair which flows
over his neck and shoulders. His face, i
tanned by exposure to all weathers, is
often garnished by a beard, untouched by .
razor or scissors for many weeks; and i
his throat, unless thffe weather is severe,
is unfettered by a neckcloth. His capot,
made from a Mackinaw blanket, gener-;
ally blue or pale green, has the broad gray
border fantasically arranged about the ;
cuffs, neck, and between the shoulders;
while his capacious trousers, of home
made jeans, have their nether extremities :
stuffed into the tops of his long legged
boots, made somewhere down east.—
jSlung over his shoulder is a bullet pouch
| made ofleather, or of the furred skin of
some wild animal, or ornamented with
sundry tags and fringes, accompanied by
a powder flask, made of a fine horn, and
polished so thin, that the grains of pow
der can be seen through it; a charge or
powder measure, made pf horn or bone,
with an attempt at carving upon it, and j
often with the initials of the owner’s:
name, and a tomahawk with it head en-j
closed in a leathern case, in the front
part of the belt which sustains the last
mentioned articles is a sheath containing
a large knife. The other shoulder is oc
cupied by a heavy rifle, with a barrel of
fifty inches long, stocked forward to the
muzzle, and mounted with brass. The
butt, in some instances, ornamented and
inlaid with silver, is hollowed out into a
crescent shape at the extremity, so as to
sit securely on the arm, and thus to act as
a counterpoise to the leverage of the muz
zle. The horse, like its rider, “ un
kempt, unshorn,” with flowing mane and
tail, caparisoned with a double reined
brittle with Spanish bit, heavy, and plated
with brass, and a Spanish saddle with
heavy brass stirrups; a blanket being
folded for a saddle cloth.
Riding leisurely along the outskirts of
the prairie girt, he is seen to stop at a
point commanding a view of .some sweep
ing vista embayed in the dark woods, like
an arm of the sea, with many winding
channels of green among the bosky is
lands of hazel, sumac, and sassafras.—
Long and patiently he stands searching
the openings with his practised eye, to
catch a glimpse of the browsing deer. If,
after waiting a eonsiderablo time, he sees
no game, he moves to some other point,
but if he should happen to see a deer, he
slips from his horse, and, by taking advan
tage of any inequality of the ground, or
of intervening bushes, and by keeping
the game between him and the wind,
tries to get within shooting distance, and
is generally pretty secure of his object at
one hundred and twenty or one hundred
awl thirty paces, if his rifle is not of very
small calibre. Should the deer run off
the western hunter rarely attempts a run
mug shot; but should he succeed in kill
ing his doer, and not be desirous of procu
ring any more, he goes for his horse,
which is broken to stand for hours where
it is left, and having pulled the deer up be
fore him, takes it home. Iftho deer be
too heavy for him, or he wish to continue
his hunt, he cuts a forked sapling with his
tomahawk, strips it of its top and branch
es, and having bound the hindlegs togeth
er, slips them into the fork, and raises
the carcass against a tree, to a height suf
ficient to secure it from dogs and beasts
of prey; or, adopting another method, he
climbs up a slender tree, and bonding its
top to the ground, secures the deer to it,
not too near the top, by the hind legs,
; when he lets go, and the elasticity of the
tree raises the slaughtered game to the
1 height required. At his leisure, he re
turns with a small light sled or cart, and
conveys the fruits of his hunt to his primi
tive dwelling.
A Three Days Hunt iu Alabama.
BV JOHNSON J. HOOPER, Esa.
We determined some time since, that
at the first convenient opportunity, which
should occur during this fall, we would
betake ourselves to the woods with a gun,
and endeavor to get out of our blood a lit
tle of the fever which two years without
i exercise or the bracing excitement of a
hunt, had generated. The time at length
arrived which we had appointed for our
three days of freedom. Our friends
Johnson, Smith, and Jones, drove slum
ber from our eyes on Wednesday morn
ing last, at earliest dawn, with the loud
est and shrillest whoop that ever came
from mortal throats. Each man had his
poney, his saddle bag of provisions, his
frying pan and tin cup.
It was a morning that only the man
who loves the woods and free sports,
could appreciate. The sun was just be
ginning to touch the brown sides of the -
hills when our trail dashed precipitately
down the rugged side of the Little Moun
tain, bringing us at once into the dense
cane and bamboo thickets of Oakchun
Swamp, which looked so much like the <
wilderness dwelling of real game, that
we could not resist the impulse to give
an honest, hearty, hound-inspiring hal
loa! We made every thing ring again,
and having done so, felt considerably re- <
lieved. Our five dogs meantime had been ■
creeping through the cane, and very i
shortly after our whoop was given, scared
up a turkey which perched in the very i
top of a lofty pine almost out of range; i
AUGUSTA, GA. SATURDAY, APRIL 5, 1314.
but wo were never a creeper, so wp
' cracked away mcontniently-a/id missed.
The turkey, however, was not permitted
to leave, for as he was endeavoring to get
his steam up, to clear the tree top, Jones
brought him to the ground.
We now sought a convenient spot for
camping. In a bend of the creek about
ja mile below the turkey tree, we found
it. A half acre adjacent to the creek,
! which no other growth upon it than a few
straggling reeds, and half a dozen huge
walnut and sweet gum trees, was the
spot. The boy kindled a fire and cooked
breakfast, which being swallowed, the
' poneys were hobbled and turned into the
cane. The next thing that claimed at
tention, was the arrangement of the day’s
campaign. This was settled by giving
Johnson and Jones both sides of the creek
i upwards, Smith the swamp on the left,
i and ourself that on the right bank, down
wards. Four of the dogs followed Smith,
and “ Pont” of course, was with me ; the
I other two said they were “dog enough”
themselves.
We nil burst off, every man to his
range. And now comes the tough part
;of our story. We have often been told
“ that lhar mar bar” on Oakchun, but we
had never given credence to the story.—
. Judge our astonishment then, at behold
ing before we had gone half a mile through
i the cane (to accomplish which consumed
: more than an hour,) a stout black animal,
a good deal like a black hog, dart out of
the cane before us, and make for a huge
hollow poplar ! It was a bear—a cub
' of about six month old—a real, live, wild
bear. There he was ascending the tree,
and we with the “trimbles”so bad, that
we couldn’t keep the gun on his broad
back at forty steps! VVasn’t it provok
ing ? Arrived at the entrance of his den,
the cub put one fore paw into the hole,
and letting go the other, turned a little
round so as to have a good look at us.—
We have seen “ humans ” whose faces
lacked the intelligence of that bears, as
I placing his loose paw on the side of his
suout, he plainly said by the gesture,
i “you can’t exactly conic it.” Weshould
have instantly have convinced him of the
falsity of his proposition, had not the head
of another individual precisely similar,
except in size, to our waggish cub, show
ed itself in the hole. “ Hello !” thought
we, “a family concern, eh V' And with
that we pushed another bullet down the
barrel of our gun, for we recollected some
very terrible stories of the ferocity of the
bears when defending their young. Pru
dence was always in large proportion to
the other constituents of our valor. Af
ter cogitating awhilo on the novelty of
our position, “ a long ways from home
and nobody close by” but a family of
hears, we bethought ourselves of our
horn, and forthwith sounded the notes
, “ want help,” most lustily. Smith and
: his dogs were soon on the spot, and the
: rest followed pretty soon. Johnson went
to the camp and returned with the boy
I and axe. The tree was a tremendous
. one, but it was resolved to fell it, which
however was easy work as it was a mere
shell. When it started to fall, such a
rumbling, scratching and tumbling as
were made within, none but a “bar-hun
t ter” has ever heard. It could only be
i likened to the sounds produced by a half
I dozen school boys gamboling in the bow
i els of an old steamboat boiler. Down
■ came the tree ! out popped the old lady,
next a cub; the dogs cover them. The
i old bear gives a gentle sling with one of
i her paws, and simultaneously therewith,
• old Troup’s “ clockwork” comes to view
i through a gaping wound ! Another sling
—the “ tan pup” finds himself yelping
and bleeding, ten feet off in the cane.—
Criesof “don’tshoot,” “mind the dogs,”
“bring the axe,” “come away Pont,”
“ come away,” arc mingled with the crash
of dry limbs and the cracking of the
cane. It was not long before the bear
disposed of both men and dogs; and
though three shots were fired at her, she
managed to get out of the scrape follow
ed by the cub.
Suddenly all was silent, and disap
pointment was on every face. Hist!
what noise is that? There’s something
in the old tree yet! Another cub! watch
out, boys, at the ends of the log! Here
he is, just mid-way of the log, and wedged
in so that he can’t move except to turn
round ! Sure enough this was the fact.
Sam was instantly put to work to cut him
out, and in a dozen licks, the black coat
of the imprisoned cub wa3 visible. The
opening was then a little enlarged, and
young bruin contrived to turn round, so
as to bring his head to the hole. Sam’s
axe is poised—“steady, Sam! hit him
right between the eyes!” The axe de
. scends—the bear’s head is cleft—ne quiv
-1 ers and dies!
I In the morning we found our way to
5 the camp, after daylight. During that
dismal night, a circumstance occurred
r which may appear incredible, but which
t wo solemnly aver to be as true as any
1 other part of this story. About nightfall,
, immense flocks of ducks descended into
' the little stagnant pools around us, and ex
i cited greatly the admiration and astonish*
: me nt of Pont, who has a mortal nntipa
-1 thy for ducks, growing out of the ill treat
' ment he frequently receives at home
; from several individuals of that species,
■ who help themselves out of his dish, when
sat his meals. Here was a chance for re
! venge, which the sagacious animal did
( not let slip. About midnight he awaken
, ed us, and giving us to understand that he
- had something on hand, he silently crept
, into the nearest lagoon, and with stealth}
tread came upon a line flock as they “ rode
at anchor,” near the shore, like a fleet of
little boats. He gently touches the tail
5 of one, with his fore paw—the duck takes
t its head from under its wing—in an in
-1 slant, Pont seized the head in his mouth
? and crushed it before the note of alarm
- can be sounded. Thus he despatched
- one by one, the whole flock! In the
i morning he piled up before us, twenty
-1 seven tine lat ducks! We instantly vo
, ted him a silver collar.
f Upon our return to the camp, we found
3 that our companions had killed fifteen
) ducks, which with these taken by Pont,
1 made the respectable number of forty
, two. I hey had also killed a couple of
t young turkeys and a small doe.
I Sam arrived about ten o’clock with the
■ pack-horse, and the weather threatening
, rain, and it was agreed thnt we should
, break up camp and return home. But
i as we had not yet killed a single thing,
- the rest of the party consented to tramp
s with us up the creek to the Upper Ponds,
i where the “old trail” crosses the swamp;
3 leaving the boy to make the best of his
, way home, with two poneys and the game.
I Wo saw no game, however, until just
? about leaving the swamp, when Jones
1 fired suddenly into the cane, killing a
, young wild hog. Quick as thought, the
• “ Patriarch” of the drove, a ferocious
I old black boar, rushed up to his fallen
l companion, with gleaming tusks and
s foaming mouth. A shot from Johnson
) damaged the old fellow’s snout slightly,
3 and so aroused his anger that he plunged
- at his enemies in the fiercest style, his
) bristles awfully erect, and his eyes* almost
• emitting sparks. Jones was nearest him,
I and upon hirn the furious animal rushed,
3 bearing him to the ground, to the great
1 terror of all. It was a moment of the
intensest agony as the immense beast
3 stood upon the body of our poor friend!
1 What can be done? tho’t everyone; the
3 poor fellow will certainly be destroyed.—
t Just at this perilous moment, Smith with,
’ a presence of mind truly admirable,
3 seized the hog by the tail, when he twist
i ed so skilfully and vigorously that the old
3 boar, instead of ripping up Jones, set up
i the harshest and most discordant squeal
-3 ing that ever shocked auditory nerve.—
- Here was a “ triumph of mind over brute
3 force!” The hog struggling with strength
sos a giant, and Smith standing in the
- rear, quietly and smilingly twisting his
i tail as neatly and effectually as it could
, have been done by a patent spinning ma
; chine! Hog flesh could not stand it; the
1 boar “gave in;” but his cries brought
, up within ten steps of us, several of the
’ drove, who formed a semi-circle about us.
: We made Smith keep his tail-hold, until
; we shot four of them, and then “knifed”
■ the old one. This was the finale? of the
’ Hunt on the Oakchunhatchee; a hunt in
all respects, we will venture to say, as
successful as any of the season, in the
i State of Alabama.
Extraordinary endurance of Fatigue.
Barclay’s celebrated feat of walking
1000 miles in 100 successive hours was
considered to be a wonderful instance of
protracted endurance of fatigue; but
what will be said of the following, for the
truth of which in its most important par
ticulars we can vouch. The parties to it
are living, and the winner has the honor
of appending F. R. S. to his name. “ I
will bet any man £100” said one “that
he cannot make 1,000,000 strokes with
pen and ink within a month.” These be
it observed, were not to be mere dots or
scratches but fair down strokes such as
form the child’s first lesson in writing.
A gentleman present stepped forward
accepted the challenge, and having re
solved to apply all his mental faculties to
[O.ye Dollar a Year.
- the interesting task, at once laid in a suf
ficient stock of foolscap. The month al
lowed was the lunar month, of only 28
) days; so that for the completion of the
l undertaking an average of thirty six
1 thousand strokes per diem was required.
1 1 his at sixty per minute, or three tliou
■ sand six hundred per hour—and neither
, the human intellect nor the human hand
> could well be expected to accomplish
• more ; would call for ten hours labor for
. every four and twenty ! But this is not
■ all. \\ ith a proper feeling of the respect
■ due, to the observance oftho Sabbath,
the intrepid acceptor of the wager, deter
, mined to abstain from his work on Sun
i days, and although, by this determina
■ than, he diminished by four days the peri
-1 od allotted to him, at the same time by
- doing so he increased the daily average
? of his strokes to upwards of forty one
t thousands, there can be little doubt that
i the conscousness of the propriety of this
“ sacrifice frequently cheered him in the
f course of his Herculean labor.
1 On the first day he executed about 50,-
s 000 strokes, on the second nearly as
- many, but then his mind was fresh and
i unwearied. To say the truth, his mind
t never flagged ; at the last stroke of the
f million, that remained as bright, and as
e vigorous as it was at the first. But at
- length, after many days, the hand became
• a,1( l weary, the wrist swollen: and it
required almost constant attendance of
3 some assidious relative or friend to
i sprinkle it, without interrupting its pro
, gress over the paper, with a lotion calcu
. lated to relieve and invigorate it. On the
t three and twentieth day the million
strokes, exceeded by some few thousands,
' “to make assurance doubly sure,” are
r accomplished ; and the piles of paper that
1 exhibit them testify, that to the courage
t ous heart, the willing hands and the ener
, getic mind nothing is impossible. These
> interesting papers are now placed in the
, archives of the Royal Society, of which
; their author is a fellow, they were claim
• e( l bv the gentleman who proposed and
. lost the wager, and are still we believe in
t his possession.— London Paper.
’ Interesting to Old People and others
. with weak eyes— We find in an old paper
. the following course of proceedings re
i commended to aged people, as the means
I of enabling them to preserve their cye
, s ‘g ht , or to recover it after it has failed:
, “Every morning, when washing vouri
j self, dip your face into the water, 'open
. your eyes and keep them under water,
t as tong as you can hold your breath.
This strengthens the eye and cleanses it
, from the rheum which deadens the sight
t and considerably effects the ball. A gen
, tleman »n Maryland, by the name of
[ James ( alder, after using spectacles for
I twenty five years, followed this plan, and
» at the a g e °f 70 recovered his sight so as
to see without them. Dipping the crown
, of th 9 head . into cold, water, every morn
t ' n o bo l * l winter and summer is a preser
. vative against the head and ear-ache,
j and will materially assist the other opera
j tion, in its effect upon the eyes.
- Culture of tlie Cucumber, by J. L. Enos.
“The best an most sure way to raise
- cucumbers, is to dig a hole in the ground
1 about one foot deep at the distance re
' qofred for the hills, then fill the holes full
J of leeched ashes; cover them over with
1 about one inch of fine light earth, sow on
‘ y°ur seed, but not until your land is dry
. ai) d your seed well soaked in warm water
| or milk, and cover it over lightly with fine
3 dirt.
• “The ashes will prevent the worms
, from eating the seed or the young vines.
As soon as leaves begin to start, and the
5 striped bugs begin to eat the leaves, go
1 and pick a hand full of Tansey and lay a
• few spears around in each hill, they will
: soon move off for some other place, and
will not trouble you any more. Hoe
them three times, as necessity requires
Try this manner of procedure and reap
’ your rich reward.”— Gennessee Farmer.
To raise good Radishes. —Take pure
sand, some depth from the surface; pure
earth, below where it has been tilled or
moved; or sea sand washed bv the
waves; make a bed in the garden, six or
eight inches deep, and as big as you
please ; and in this sow your radish seed,
and they will grow without manure, and
be free trom worms. We have tried it
frequently, and never failed Ex.
Avery hard Customer. —A Michigan
editor complains grievously of one of his
subscribers. The fellow will not pay
his subscription and threatens to flog tho
i editor if he stops his paper.