Chapter LXXIII: Appendix: Canals and Railroads (3)

While I was at Spokan, I went occasionally to the horse
prairie, which is nearly surrounded by partially wooded
hills, for the purpose of watching the manœuvres of the
wolves in their combined attacks. The first announcement of
their approach was a few shrill currish barks at intervals,
like the outpost firing of skirmishing parties. These were
answered by similar barking from an opposite direction,
until the sounds gradually approximated, and, at length,
ceased on the junction of the different parties. We prepared
our guns, and concealed ourselves behind a thick cover.
In the mean time, the horses, sensible of the approaching
danger, began to paw the ground, snort, toss up their heads,
look wildly about them, and exhibit all the symptoms of fear.
One or two stallions took the lead, and appeared to wait
with a degree of comparative composure for the appearance of
the enemy.

The allies, at length, entered the field in a semicircular
form, with their flanks extended for the evident purpose
of surrounding their prey. They were between two and three
hundred strong. The horses, on observing their movement,
knew from experience its object, and dreading to encounter
so numerous a force, instantly turned round, and galloped
off in a contrary direction. Their flight was the signal
for the wolves to advance; and immediately uttering a
simultaneous yell, they charged after the fugitives, still
preserving their crescent form. Two or three of the horses,
which were not in the best condition, were quickly overtaken
by the advance guard of the enemy. The former, finding
themselves unable to keep up with the band, commenced
kicking at their pursuers, several of which received some
severe blows; but these being reinforced by others, they
would have shortly despatched the horses, had we not,
just in time, emerged from our place of concealment, and
discharged a volley at the enemy’s centre, by which a few
were brought down. The whole battalion instantly wheeled
about, and fled towards the hills in the utmost disorder;
while the horses, on hearing the fire, changed their course,
and galloped up to us. Our appearance saved several of them
from the fangs of their foes; and by their neighing they
seemed to express their joy and gratitude at our timely
interference.

Although the wolves of North America are the most daring
of all the beasts of prey on that continent, they are by
no means so courageous or ferocious as those of Europe,
particularly in Spain or the south of France, in which
countries they commit dreadful ravages both on man and beast,
whereas an American wolf, except forced by desperation, will
seldom or never attack a human being; a remarkable instance
of which is mentioned in the detail of my wanderings, in
the eighth chapter. The lynxes are by no means so numerous
as the wolves, but they are equally destructive, and
individually more daring. They generally travel alone, or
in couples, and seldom fly, as the wolves do, on the first
approach of man. The largest American lynx does not exceed
in size an English mastiff.――_Ross Cox._

45 – A very young whelp of this fox was, some time ago, brought
to the Philadelphia Museum in company with its foster mother,
a common cat, which had adopted and appeared to be very fond
of it. She continued to nurse the little fox for several
weeks, expressing much affectionate solicitude when he
wandered from her, notwithstanding the frequent ungrateful
bites inflicted by her vicious foundling. How long this
singular relation might have continued, or to what result it
would have led, is unknown. The fox strayed too far from his
cautions nurse, fell from the platform of a tall staircase
to the ground, and was killed; the poor cat evinced as much
sorrow for her loss as if it had been really her own
offspring.

46 – For a very full, minute, and interesting account of the
beaver, we refer our readers to the second volume of
Godman’s Natural History.

47 – Flying squirrels are said to be found in the north of
Europe, but they are very scarce.

48 – Nuttall.

49 – The figure of this noble bird is well known throughout
the civilized world, emblazoned as it is on our national
standard, which waves in the breeze of every clime, bearing
to distant lands the remembrance of a great people living in
a state of peaceful freedom. May that peaceful freedom last
forever!

The great strength, daring, and cool courage of the
white-headed eagle, joined to his unequalled power of
flight, render him highly conspicuous among his brethren.
To these qualities did he add a generous disposition towards
others, he might be looked up to as a model of nobility. The
ferocious, overbearing, and tyrannical temper which is ever
and anon displaying itself in his actions, is, nevertheless,
best adapted to his state, and was wisely given him by the
Creator to enable him to perform the office assigned to him.

To give you some idea of the nature of this bird, permit
me to place you on the Mississippi, on which you may float
gently along, while approaching winter brings millions of
water-fowl on whistling wings, from the countries of the
north, to seek a milder climate in which to sojourn for a
season. The eagle is seen perched, in an erect attitude,
on the highest summit of the tallest tree by the margin of
the broad stream, his glistening but stern eye looks over
the vast expanse. He listens attentively to every sound that
comes to his quick ear from afar, glancing now and then on
the earth beneath, lest even the light tread of the fawn may
pass unheard. His mate is perched on the opposite side, and
should all be tranquil and silent, warns him by a cry to
continue patient. At this well-known call, the male partly
opens his broad wings, inclines his body a little downwards,
and answers to her voice in tones not unlike the laugh of a
maniac. The next moment, he resumes his erect attitude, and
again all around is silent.

Ducks of many species, the teal, the wigeon, the mallard and
others, are seen passing with great rapidity, and following
the course of the current; but the eagle heeds them not:
they are at that time beneath his attention. The next moment,
however, the wild trumpet-like sound of a yet distant but
approaching swan is heard. A shriek from the female eagle
comes across the stream,――for she is as fully on the alert
as her mate. The latter suddenly shakes the whole of his
body, and with a few touches of his bill, aided by the
action of his cuticular muscles, arranges his plumage in
an instant. The snow-white bird is now in sight: her long
neck is stretched forward, her eye is on the watch, vigilant
as that of her enemy; her large wings seem with difficulty
to support the weight of her body, although they flap
incessantly. So irksome do her exertions seem, that her very
legs are spread beneath her tail, to aid her in her flight.
She approaches, however. The eagle has marked her for his
prey. As the swan is passing the dreaded pair, the male bird,
in full preparation for the chase, starts from his perch
with an awful scream, that to the swan’s ear brings more
terror than the report of the large duck-gun.

Now is the moment to witness the display of the eagle’s
powers. He glides through the air like a falling star,
and, like a flash of lightning, comes upon the timorous
quarry, which now, in agony and despair, seeks, by various
manœuvres, to elude the grasp of his cruel talons. It mounts,
doubles, and willingly would plunge into the stream, were
it not prevented by the eagle, which, long possessed of the
knowledge that by such a stratagem the swan might escape him,
forces it to remain in the air by attempting to strike it
with his talons from beneath. The hope of escape is soon
given up by the swan. It has already become much weakened,
and its strength fails at the sight of the courage and
swiftness of its antagonist. Its last gasp is about to
escape, when the ferocious eagle strikes with his talons the
under side of its wing, and with unresisted power forces the
bird to fall in a slanting direction upon the nearest shore.

It is then, reader, that you may see the cruel spirit of
this dreaded enemy of the feathered race, whilst, exulting
over his prey, he for the first time breathes at ease.
He presses down his powerful feet, and drives his sharp
claws deeper than ever into the heart of the dying swan. He
shrieks with delight, as he feels the last convulsions of
his prey, which has now sunk under his unceasing efforts to
render death as painfully felt as it can possibly be. The
female has watched every movement of her mate; and if she
did not assist him in capturing the swan, it was not from
want of will, but merely that she felt full assurance that
the power and courage of her lord were quite sufficient for
the deed. She now sails to the spot where he eagerly awaits
her, and when she has arrived, they together turn the breast
of the luckless swan upwards, and gorge themselves with
gore.――_Audubon._

50 – Bonaparte

51 – When the female is disposed to lay, she appears restless and
dejected, and separates from the unregarding flock. Stealing
through the woods and thickets, she pries into the bushes
and brambles for the nest that suits her, into which she
darts, in the absence of its owner, and in a few minutes
is seen to rise on the wing, cheerful and relieved from the
anxiety that oppressed her, and proceeds back to the flock
she had so reluctantly forsaken. If the egg be deposited in
the nest alone, it is uniformly forsaken; but if the nursing
parent have any of her own, she immediately begins to sit.
The red-eyed flycatcher, in whose beautiful basket-like
nests I have observed these eggs, proves a very affectionate
and assiduous nurse to the uncouth foundling. In one of
these I found an egg of each bird, and the hen already
sitting. I took her own egg and left the strange one; she
soon returned, and, as if sensible of what had happened,
looked with steadfast attention, and shifted the egg about,
then sate upon it, but soon moved off, again renewed her
observation, and it was a considerable time before she
seemed willing to take her seat; but at length I left her
on the nest. Two or three days after, I found that she had
relinquished her attention to the strange egg, and forsaken
the premises. Another of these birds, however, forsook the
nest, on taking out the cow-bird’s egg, although she had
still two of her own left. The only example, perhaps, to
the contrary of deserting the nest when solely occupied by
the stray egg, is in the blue-bird, who, attached strongly
to the breeding places, in which it often continues for
several years, has been known to lay, though with apparent
reluctance, after the deposition of the cow-bird’s egg. My
friend, Mr. C. Pickering, found two nests of the blue-eyed
yellow warbler, in which had been deposited an egg of the
cow-bird previously to any of their own; and unable to eject
it, they had buried it in the bottom of the nest, and built
over it an additional story! I also saw, in the summer of
1830, a similar circumstance with the same bird, in which
the cow-bird’s egg, though incarcerated, was still visible
on the upper edge, but could never have been hatched. At
times, I think it probable, that they lay in the nests
of larger birds, who throw out the egg, or that they drop
their eggs on the ground without obtaining a deposit, as
I have found an egg of this kind thus exposed and broken.
I have also remarked sometimes two of these eggs in the
same nest; but in this case one of them commonly proves
abortive.――_Nuttall._

52 – Wilson.

53 – _Turkey Shooting._――Good dogs scent the turkeys, when in
large flocks, at extraordinary distances,――I think I may
venture to say half a mile. Should the dog be well trained
to this sport, he sets off at full speed, and in silence,
until he sees the birds, when he instantly barks, and
pushing as much as possible into the centre of the flock,
forces the whole to take wing in different directions. This
is of great advantage to the hunter, for should the turkeys
all go one way, they would soon leave their perches and
run again. But when they separate in this manner, and the
weather happens to be calm and lowering, a person accustomed
to this kind of sport finds the birds with ease, and shoots
them at pleasure.

When turkeys alight on a tree, it is sometimes very
difficult to see them, which is owing to their standing
perfectly motionless. Should you discover one, when it
is down on its legs upon the branch, you may approach it
with less care. But if it is standing erect, the greatest
precaution is necessary, for should it discover you, it
instantly flies off, frequently to such a distance that it
would be vain to follow.

When a turkey is merely winged by a shot, it falls quickly
to the ground in a slanting direction. Then, instead of
losing time by tumbling and rolling over, as other birds
often do when wounded, it runs off at such a rate, that
unless the hunter be provided with a swift dog, he may
bid farewell to it. I recollect coming on one shot in this
manner, more than a mile from the tree where it had been
perched, my dog having traced it to this distance, through
one of those thick cane-brakes that cover many portions of
our rich alluvial lands near the banks of our western rivers.
Turkeys are easily killed if shot in the head, the neck, or
the upper part of the breast; but if hit in the hind parts
only they often fly so far as to be lost to the hunter.
During winter, many of our _real_ hunters shoot them by
moonlight, on the roosts, where these birds will frequently
stand a repetition of the reports of a rifle, although they
would fly from the attack of an owl or even perhaps from his
presence. Thus sometimes nearly a whole flock is secured by
men capable of using these guns in such circumstances. They
are often destroyed in great numbers when most worthless,
that is, early in the fall or autumn, when many are killed
in their attempt to cross the rivers, or immediately after
they reach the shore.

Whilst speaking of the shooting of turkeys, I feel no
hesitation in relating the following occurrence, which
happened to myself. While in search of game, one afternoon
late in autumn, when the males go together, and the females
are by themselves also, I heard the clucking of one of the
latter, and immediately finding her perched on a fence, made
towards her. Advancing slowly and cautiously, I heard the
yelping notes of some gobblers, when I stopped and listened
in order to ascertain the direction in which they came.
I then ran to meet the birds, hid myself by the side of a
large fallen tree, cocked my gun, and waited with impatience
for a good opportunity. The gobblers continued yelping in
answer to the female, which all this while remained on the
fence. I looked over the log and saw about thirty fine cocks
advancing rather cautiously towards the very spot where I
lay concealed. They came so near that the light in their
eyes could easily be perceived, when I fired one barrel,
and killed three. The rest, instead of flying off, fell a
strutting around their dead companions, and had I not looked
on shooting again as murder without necessity, I might have
secured at least another. So I showed myself, and marching
to the place where the dead birds were, drove away the
survivors. I may also mention, that a friend of mine shot a
fine hen, from his horse, with a pistol, as the poor thing
was probably returning to her nest to lay.

Should you, good-natured reader, be a sportsman, and now and
then have been fortunate in the exercise of your craft, the
following incident, which I shall relate to you as I had it
from the mouth of an honest farmer, may prove interesting.
Turkeys were very abundant in his neighborhood, and,
resorting to his corn-fields, at the period when the maize
had just shot up from the ground, destroyed great quantities
of it. This induced him to swear vengeance against the
species. He cut a long trench in a favorable situation, put
a great quantity of corn in it, and having heavily loaded
a famous duck-gun of his, placed it so as that he could
pull the trigger by means of a string, when quite concealed
from the birds. The turkeys soon discovered the corn in
the trench, and quickly disposed of it, at the same time
continuing their ravages in the fields. He filled the trench
again, and one day seeing it quite black with the turkeys,
whistled loudly, on which all the birds raised their heads,
when he pulled the trigger by the long string fastened to
it. The explosion followed of course, and the turkeys were
seen scampering off in all directions, in utter discomfiture
and dismay. On running to the trench, he found nine of them
extended in it. The rest did not consider it expedient to
visit his corn again for that season.

During spring, turkeys are _called_, as it is termed, by
drawing the air in a particular way through one of the
second joint bones of a wing of that bird, which produces a
sound resembling the voice of the female, on hearing which
the male comes up, and is shot. In managing this, however,
no fault must be committed, for turkeys are quick in
distinguishing counterfeit sounds, and when _half civilized_
are very wary and cunning. I have known many to answer to
this kind of call, without moving a step, and thus entirely
defeat the scheme of the hunter, who dared not move from
his hiding-place, lest a single glance of the gobbler’s eye
should frustrate all further attempts to decoy them. Many
are shot when at roost, in this season, by answering with
a rolling gobble to a sound in imitation of the cry of the
barred owl.

While at Henderson, on the Ohio, I had, among many other
wild birds, a fine male turkey, which had been reared from
its earliest youth under my care, it having been caught by
me when probably not more than two or three days old. It
became so tame that it would follow any person who called
it, and was the favorite of the little village. Yet it would
never roost with the tame turkeys, but regularly betook
itself at night to the roof of the house, where it remained
until dawn. When two years old, it began to fly to the woods,
where it remained for a considerable part of the day, to
return to the enclosure as night approached. It continued
this practice until the following spring, when I saw it
several times fly from its roosting place to the top of
a high cotton tree, on the bank of the Ohio, from which,
after resting a little, it would sail to the opposite shore,
the river being there nearly half a mile wide, and return
towards night.

One morning I saw it fly off, at a very early hour, to the
woods, in another direction, and took no particular notice
of the circumstance. Several days elapsed, but the bird did
not return. I was going towards some lakes near Green River
to shoot, when having walked about five miles, I saw a fine
large gobbler cross the path before me, moving leisurely
along. Turkeys being then in prime condition for the table,
I ordered my dog to chase it, and put it up. The animal went
off with great rapidity, and as it approached the turkey,
I saw, with great surprise, that the latter paid little
attention. Juno was on the point of seizing it, when she
suddenly stopped, and turned her head towards me. I hastened
to them, but you may easily conceive my surprise when I saw
my own favorite bird, and discovered that it had recognised
the dog, and would not fly from it: although the sight of
a strange dog would have caused it to run off at once. A
friend of mine happening to be in search of a wounded deer,
took the bird on his saddle before him, and carried it
home for me. The following spring it was accidentally shot,
having been taken for a wild bird, and brought to me on
being recognised by the red ribbon which it had around
its neck. Pray, reader, by what word will you designate
the recognition made by my favorite turkey of a dog
which had been long associated with it in the yard and
grounds? Was it the result of instinct, or of reason,――an
unconsciously revived impression, or the act of an
intelligent mind?――_Audubon._

54 – _Duck Shooting on the Chesapeak._――To a stranger, visiting
these waters, the innumerable ducks, feeding in beds of
thousands, or filling the air with their careering, with
the great numbers of beautiful white swans resting near
the shores, like banks of driven snow, he would naturally
suppose the facilities for their destruction were equal
to their profusion, and with so large an object in view, a
sportsman could scarcely miss his aim. But when he considers
the great thickness of their covering, the velocity of their
flight, the rapidity and duration of their diving, and the
great influence that circumstances of wind and weather have
on the chances of success, it becomes a matter of wonder how
so many are destroyed.

The usual mode of taking these birds has been, till recently,
by shooting from the points during the flight, or from the
land or boats, on their feeding grounds, or by _toling_,
as it is strangely termed, an operation by which the ducks
are sometimes induced to approach within a few feet of the
shore, from a distance often of several hundred yards. This
process, though it has been frequently described, may not
be uninteresting to repeat. A spot is usually selected where
the birds have not been much disturbed, and where they feed
at three or four hundred yards from, and can approach to
within forty or fifty yards of the shore, as they will never
come nearer than they can swim freely. The higher the tides
and calmer the day, the better, for they feed closer to the
shores and see more distinctly. Most persons on these waters
have a race of small, white or liver-colored dogs, which are
familiarly called the _toler_ breed, but which appear to be
the ordinary poodle.

These dogs are extremely playful, and are taught to run up
and down the shore, in sight of the ducks, either by the
motion of the hand, or by throwing chips from side to side.
They soon become perfectly acquainted with their business,
and as they discover the ducks approaching them, make their
jumps less high, till they almost crawl on the ground,
to prevent the birds discovering what the object of their
curiosity may be. This disposition to examine rarities,
has been taken advantage of, by using a red or black
handkerchief, by day, and white, by night, in toling,
or even by gently splashing the water on the shore. The
nearest ducks soon notice the strange appearance, whatever
the plan attempted, raise their heads, gaze intently for
a moment, then push for the shore. The rest follow suit,
and the author has, on many occasions, seen thousands of
them swimming in a solid mass, direct to the object; and
by removing the dog further into the grass, they have been
brought within fifteen feet of the bank. When they have
approached to about thirty or forty yards, their curiosity
is generally satisfied, when they swim laterally up and
down for a few seconds, and then retrograde in their old
spot. Whilst presenting the side view, is the moment to
shoot, and forty or fifty ducks have often been killed
by a small gun. The _black-heads_ tole the most readily,
then the _red-heads_, next the _canvass-backs_, and the
_bald-pates_ rarely; and this is the ratio of their approach
to the points in flying, although if the canvass-back has
determined on his direction, few circumstances will change
his course. The total absence of cover or precaution against
exposure to sight, or even a large fire, will not turn these
birds aside on such occasions.

In _flying_ shooting, the _bald-pate_ is a great nuisance,
for they are so shy, that they not only avoid the points
themselves, but by their whistling and confusion of flight
at such times, alarm others; and few days occur during the
season, without many maledictions on their very existence.

As simple as it may appear to shoot, with success, into
a solid mass of ducks, sitting on the water at forty or
fifty yards’ distance, yet, when you recollect, that you are
placed nearly level with the water, the object opposed to
the visual line, even though composed of hundreds, may be in
appearance but a foot or two in width. To give, therefore,
the best promise of success, old duckers recommend that the
_nearest_ duck should be in perfect relief above the sight,
whatever the size of the column, to avoid the common result
of over-shooting. The correctness of this principle was
illustrated to the writer, in an instance in which he had
_toled_, to within a space between forty and seventy yards
of the shore, a bed of certainly hundreds of ducks. Twenty
yards beyond the outside birds of the solid mass, were
five black-heads, one of which was alone killed out of the
_whole_ number, by a deliberate aim into the _middle_ of the
large flock, from a rest, by a heavy, well-proved duck-gun.

Before I leave the subject of _sitting_ shooting, I will
mention an occurrence that took place on Bush river, a few
years since. A man whose house was situated near the bank,
on rising early one morning, observed the river had frozen,
except an open space of ten or twelve feet in diameter,
at about eighty yards from the shore, nearly opposite his
house. The spot was full of ducks, and with a heavy gun he
fired into it; many were killed, and those that flew soon
returned, and were again and again shot at, till fearful he
was injuring those already his own, he ceased the massacre,
and brought on shore ninety-two ducks, most of which were
canvass-backs.

Canvass-backs, when wounded, on the streams near the bay,
instantly direct their course for it, where they nestle
among the grass, on the shores, till cured, or destroyed
by eagles, hawks, gulls, foxes, or other vermin, that are
constantly on the search; and if a dead canvass-back be not
soon secured, he becomes a prey to the gulls, who rarely
touch any other kind, so refined is their taste. I have seen
severe contests take place between crippled canvass-backs
and gulls, and although a pounce or two generally prevents
further resistance, sometimes they are driven off. If the
bird is remarkably savory, the gull makes such a noise, that
others are soon collected, when possession is determined by
courage or strength.――_Doughty’s Cabinet._

55 – When wounded in the wing alone, a large swan will readily
beat off a dog, and is more than a match for a man in four
feet water, a stroke of the wing having broken an arm, and
the powerful feet almost obliterating the face of a good
sized duck shooter. They are often killed by rifle balls
thrown from the shore into the feeding column, and as a ball
will _ricochet_ on the water for several hundred yards, a
wing may be disabled at the distance of half a mile.

These birds are often brought within shooting range, by
sailing down upon them whilst feeding, and, as they arise
against the wind, and cannot leave the water for fifteen
or twenty yards, against which they strike their enormous
feet and wings most furiously, great advantage is gained in
distance. They must be allowed on _all_ occasions to turn
the side, for a breast shot rarely succeeds in entering.

When two feeding coves are separated by a single point,
by disturbing the swans in one or the other occasionally,
they will pass and repass very closely to this projection of
land, and usually taking as they do, the straight line, each
gunner, to prevent dispute, names the bird he will shoot at.

In winter, boats covered by pieces of ice, the sportsman
being dressed in white, are paddled or allowed to float
during the night into the midst of a flock, and they have
been oftentimes killed, by being knocked on the head and
neck by a pole. There is, however, much danger in this mode,
as others may be engaged in like manner, but shooting, and
at a short distance, the persons might not be distinguished
from the swan. These birds seem well aware of the range
of a gun, and I have followed them in a skiff for miles,
driving a body of several hundreds before me, without the
possibility of getting quite within shooting distance.

It is a curious circumstance, that Wilson has neither
figured nor described this beautiful and common bird
in his ornithology; but Mr. Lawson, the engraver of his
splendid plates, and also his personal friend, informs me,
he had waited for another southern expedition, which he did
not live to perform. A particular history, in detail, of
this splendid bird has heretofore never been given to the
public.――_Sharpless._

56 – The rock fish is universally known in all the rivers, and
smaller tide-water streams, throughout the United States.
The following description of the mode in which this fish is
trolled for in the Susquehannah may be interesting. It is
taken from the American Sporting Magazine.

‘The season for trolling begins in the latter part of May,
and commonly ends about the middle of July; but some years
lasts during August. In the month of June the rock fish
generally bite best. To make good fishing, the river should
not be very high nor low, muddy nor clear, but betwixt
extremes in these respects. If the water be clear, the fish
dart off at sight of the line; and it is thought, they leave
the rapids, when the river is rising, or muddy, to feed upon
the flats in the Chesapeak.

‘Trolling is very much practised from Port Deposit, to
almost any given distance up the river, but not below. The
grass that the ducks feed upon, grows too thick on the flats
in tide-water for trolling, and the channel is uniformly
too deep. The rapids above, where the water is in many parts
shoal, and the rocky bottom clear of grass, is the proper
place for trolling.

‘Two persons generally fish from the same boat; one of
them steers with one hand, and fishes with the other.
Each fisherman lets his line out over the side of the boat
nearest to him, and close to the stern, (where they sit,)
holding it in his hand, a few inches from the water, and
leaves the end attached to the cork in the bottom of the
boat. He pays out nearly all his line, and keeps constantly
pulling it, by short jerks, to feel if it is running over
a rock or tree top. The boat is rowed as fast as possible
across the river, from shore to shore, above, and as near
to the falls as they can go, to avoid being swept down them.
The rock fish lie below the falls and ripples, waiting for
the small fish that are carried over by the current. Here
then the bait falls over, with a constant rotary motion,
like a live fish whirled over, side foremost, and struggles
in vain against the falls. The swivels turn every time the
bait turns, and prevent the line from twisting up into knots;
and as there are no sinkers, the rapid head-way of the boat
drags them along so fast that the lines have no time to
sink. At sight of the bait tumbling over the falls, the
rock fish darts upwards from his cavern in the rocks, and
swallows hook and all. The bite of the rock fish is quick
as lightning, and gives a sudden jerk to the arm of the
fisherman. When he first discovers he is snared, he rises
to the top of the water, and begins to lash it furiously
with his forked tail, like “a spirit conjured from the vasty
deep,” then plunges down again to the bottom. He is dragged
from thence by the fisherman, who hauls in his long line,
hand over hand, until he brings his fish alongside of the
boat. If he is of tolerable size, weighing only seven or ten
pounds, the troller lifts him into the boat by the line; but
if the fish is large, he runs his arm down into the water,
and lifts him in by his gills.

‘The excitement that this scene produces in all those in
the boat, is not to be described. One instant you see the
fish making the water foam with his tail, the next you lose
sight of him; one instant the troller feels him jerking
desperately backwards, the next he darts ahead towards the
boat, carrying the line with him; and the fisherman, who
ceases to feel him, is distressed for fear he has broken
loose from the hook. The black oarsmen ease up rowing to
laugh and shout with great glee. The troller’s anxiety
to secure his fish is so great, that he alone, of all the
company, is silent, and full of uneasiness, until he gets
him into the boat. In this manner, it is not unusual to
catch, with two lines, ten or twenty fish, varying in weight
from five to twenty pounds each, in an hour――sometimes they
are caught much larger. When the fish do not bite fast, the
troller does not become wearied soon; his line is always
out, and he is in constant expectation of feeling a bite,
as the boat glides backwards and forwards across the river,
in search of luck; he is not confined to one rock, like the
sleepy angler.

‘This would be very dangerous sport to persons unaccustomed
to it; let no presumptuous cits venture upon it by
themselves. The flat-bottomed boat must be rowed through the
most dangerous falls and whirlpools in the river. Sometimes
she is forced, at an imperceptible progress, against a
current running down at an angle of forty-five degrees. If
one of the oarsmen happens to fail in strength, or to dip
his oar with a false stroke, the current will snatch it
upwards out of his hands, and the frail skiff will be dashed
to pieces amongst the rocks. Often they are obliged to get
out of the boat on some rock above water, and haul her over.
A person unaccustomed to it, cannot rely upon his senses
of hearing or seeing. He is first deafened by the stunning
roar of the incessant flood, then sickened by the tossing of
the skiff amongst the waves and eddies. The huge rocks that
rear themselves thick to oppose the rushing waters, covered
with eagles, and cormorants, and the little islands all
_seem to be_ swimming backwards. And now she flies across
a shoal――at first glimpse, the little skiff seems to rest
securely on the bottom; at the next, the solid bottom
appears deceitfully to recede from beneath her, and leave
her to founder in the dark waters of a bottomless swirl.
And again, before _he_ is aware of it, she seems to have
approached so near the falls that nothing can prevent her
from going over side foremost. All these false appearances
rushing in succession, quick as thought, upon the mind of
the troubled cockney, turn his brain with dizziness.’

57 – A curious incident occurred at this spot to one of our men
named La Course, which was nearly proving fatal. This man
had stretched himself on the ground, after the fatigue of
the day, with his head resting on a small package of goods,
and quickly fell asleep. While in this situation I passed
him, and was almost petrified at seeing a large rattlesnake
moving from his side to his left breast. My first impulse
was to alarm La Course; but an old Canadian, whom I had
beckoned to the spot, requested me to make no noise,
alleging it would merely cross the body, and go away. He
was mistaken; for on reaching the man’s left shoulder, the
serpent deliberately coiled itself, but did not appear to
meditate an attack. Having made signs to several others,
who joined us, it was determined that two men should advance
a little in front, to divert the attention of the snake,
while one should approach La Course behind, and with a long
stick endeavor to remove it from his body. The snake, on
observing the men advance in front, instantly raised its
head, darted out its forked tongue, and shook its rattles;
all indications of anger. Every one was now in a state of
feverish agitation as to the fate of poor La Course, who
still lay slumbering, unconscious of his danger; when the
man behind, who had procured a stick seven feet in length,
suddenly placed one end of it under the coiled reptile, and
succeeded it pitching it upwards of ten feet from the man’s
body. A shout of joy was the first intimation La Course
received of his wonderful escape, while in the mean time
the man with the stick pursued the snake which he killed. It
was three feet six inches long, and eleven years old, which,
I need not inform my readers, we easily ascertained by the
number of rattles. A general search was then commenced about
the encampment, and under several rocks we found upwards of
fifty of them, all of which we destroyed. There is no danger
attending their destruction, provided a person has a long
pliant stick, and does not approach them nearer than their
length, for they cannot spring beyond it, and seldom act
on the offensive except closely pursued. They have a strong
repugnance to the smell of tobacco, in consequence of which
we opened a bale of it, and strewed a quantity of loose
leaves about the tents, by which means we avoided their
visits during the night――_Ross Cox._

58 – Silliman’s Journal.

59 – For a list of the counties in this and the other states,
with their population, see the statistical tables at the end
of the volume.

60 – Baltimore has the honor, I believe, of being the first city
which has raised an architectural memorial of its gratitude
to Washington. It consists of a column of white marble,
rising from a quadrangular base. The shaft of the column is
about one hundred and twenty feet high, and is surmounted
by a colossal statue, which, from its throne, seems proudly
to overlook the city. The design of this monument, which is
yet unfinished, is simple and grand, and does honor to the
taste of the city. Its gross height, including the statue
and pedestal, is about a hundred and sixty feet.

In one of the squares of the city, there is what is called
the Battle Monument, a sort of trophy column, erected to
commemorate the repulse of the attack on the city during
the late war, and the names of those who fell in its
defence. This structure, which is about fifty feet in
height, consists of a column representing the Roman fasces,
symbolical of the union, rising from a square pedestal,
which tapers in the Egyptian style, with a griffin at each
corner. Above is the statue of Victory, with an eagle at
her side. The effect of the whole is sadly injured by a most
anomalous perplexity of petty details. Indeed so vicious
is this monument, in point of taste, that it is difficult
to believe it the production of the same period which has
adorned the city with the noble structure to Washington.

I remember being asked by a lady, in one of the first
visits I paid in Baltimore, whether I had seen this monument.
Having answered in the negative, she proceeded to inform
me that it was very beautiful, but, as if struck by a
sudden recollection, somewhat eagerly apologised for the
introduction of the subject, on account of the painful
feelings which this memorial of failure in his country’s
arms, could not fail to excite in an English spectator. In
reply, I took the liberty to assure her that her regrets
on this matter were entirely gratuitous; that I should
have great pleasure in examining the monument, and really
entertained no apprehension of suffering from any pungency
of feeling on the occasion. It was easy to observe, however,
that my disclaimers, like the inaugural _nolo episcopari_
of the bishops, went for nothing with my fair auditor. Her
apologies for having wounded my feelings, became even more
strenuous than before; and as it was evidently agreeable
that I should appear in the light of a mortified man, I at
length judged it better to desist from farther disclamation.
If I know any thing of John Bull, he is not quite so
sensitive a person, as it pleases the good people on
this side of the water to believe him; and the idea of an
Englishman, at the present day, being distressed by regret
at the failure of the attack on Baltimore, is, perhaps,
somewhat closely connected with the ludicrous.

Baltimore is celebrated for its hospitality and the beauty
of its women, and I can bear testimony to the justice of
its reputation for both. In no other city of the United
States is the former so frequent and habitual, and in
none are there so few of the sordid characteristics of
traffic apparent to a stranger. There struck me as being
at Baltimore, more effort than elsewhere, to combine the
pleasures of social life with professional labor. The
effect of this is generally felt in society. The tone of
conversation is lighter and more agreeable, and topics of
mere commercial interest are rarely obtruded at the dinner
table.

In Baltimore, there is not much pretension of any sort, and
the average of literary accomplishment is, perhaps, lower
than in Philadelphia or Boston. In such matters, however,
a transient visitor can form, at best, but an uncertain and
very fallible judgment; but I can with truth assert, that my
recollections of Baltimore are of the most agreeable kind,
and that I quitted it with a strong sentiment of regard for
several of its inhabitants, which time has yet done nothing
to diminish.

The ladies of Baltimore, I have already intimated, are
remarkable for personal attraction; indeed, I am not aware
that, in proportion to the numbers assembled, I have ever
seen so much beauty as in the parties of Baltimore. The
figure is, perhaps, deficient in height, but sylph-like and
graceful; the features are generally regular and delicately
modelled, and the fair Baltimoreans are less remarkable
than the American ladies usually are, for the absence of a
certain fulness and grace of proportion, to which, from its
rarity, one is led, perhaps, to attach somewhat too much
value as an ingredient of beauty.――_Hamilton’s America._

61 – The road, as we approached Boston, lay through a more
populous country, and we passed a height, which commanded a
fine view of the bay. At length, entering on a long street,
I found myself surrounded by the busy hum of a great city.
The first impression was decidedly favorable. There is in
Boston less of that rawness of outline, and inconsistency of
architecture, which had struck me in New York. The truth is,
that the latter has increased so rapidly, that nine tenths
of the city have been built within the last thirty years,
and probably one half of it within a third of the period. In
Boston, both wealth and population have advanced at a slower
pace. A comparatively small portion of the city is new, and
the hand of time has somewhat mellowed even its deformities,
contributing to render that reverend, which was originally
rude.

There is an air of gravity and solidity about Boston; and
nothing gay or flashy, in the appearance of her streets, or
the crowd who frequent them. New York is a young giantess,
weighing twenty stone, and yet frisky withal. Boston, the
matron of stayed and demure air, a little past her prime,
perhaps, yet showing no symptom of decay. The former is
brisk, bustling, and annually outgrowing her petticoats. The
latter fat, fair, and forty, a great breeder, but turning
her children out of doors, as fast as she produces them. But
it is an old and true apophthegm, that similes seldom run on
all fours, and therefore it is generally prudent not to push
them too far.

Boston stands on an undulating surface, and is surrounded
on three sides by the sea. The harbor is a magnificent
basin, encircled by a beautiful country, rising in gentle
acclivities, and studded with villas. There is nothing
very handsome about the town, which is rather English
in appearance, and might in truth be easily mistaken for
our more populous seaports. A considerable number of the
buildings are of granite, or, more properly speaking, of
sienite; but brick is the prevailing material, and houses
of framework are now rarely to be met with in the streets
inhabited by the better orders. The streets are narrow, and
often crooked, yet, as already stated, they exhibit more
finish and cleanliness than are to be found in New York.
In architecture, I could discover little to admire. The
state house stands on an eminence commanding the city; it
is a massive square building, presenting in front a piazza
of rusticated arches, surmounted by a gratuitous range of
Corinthian columns, which support nothing. The building in
front has a small attic with a pediment, and from the centre
rises a dome, the summit of which is crowned by a square
lantern.

The comparative diffusion of literature in Boston has
brought with it a taste for the fine arts. The better houses
are adorned with pictures; and in the Athenæum――a public
library and reading room――is a collection of casts from the
antique. Establishments for the instruction of the people in
the higher branches of knowledge, are yet almost unknown in
the United States, but something like a Mechanics’ Institute
has at length been got up in Boston, and I went to hear
the introductory lecture. The apartment, a large one, was
crowded by an audience whose appearance and deportment
were in the highest degree orderly and respectable. The
lecture was on the steam engine, the history, principle,
and construction of which were explained most lucidly by
the lecturer, who belonged, I was assured, to the class of
operative mechanics.――_Men and Manners in America._

62 – _Mount Auburn._――If the taste of our readers resembles
our own, we can assure them that they will have no reason
to regret the exertion, if they take a walk through the
retreats of Mount Auburn, at the present season of the year.
They may suppose that the fall of the leaf has deprived
the place of most of its attractions; but it is one of the
recommendations of this beautiful spot, that it remains
pleasant through so many months. As the spring opens, it is
a favorable place to watch the restoration of nature――the
returns of the bird to his favorite home, and the opening of
the sealed urns of the flower; in the summer, a fine retreat
from the sultriness is offered by its deep caverns of green,
formed by heavy masses of rich and various foliage, such as
is found in no other part of this region; and now, in the
closing year, even after the splendid drapery of autumn is
taken down, and the rustle of the dead leaf, together with
the sullen whistle of the wind through its deserted avenues,
seems to speak of nothing but desolation, the lover of
nature still finds every thing in perfect harmony with the
feelings which such a place is desired to awaken. There
is something melancholy in the sight, indeed, but the
associations are neither painful nor oppressive. We know
that the spring will return, and the voice of the bird will
wake the earth from its slumber; the trees will be covered
with beauty, and the streams move on again with music in
their flow; by a familiar association, we are reminded that
a similar happy and reviving change awaits those who have
gone down to the dust in peace, when that which is sown in
weakness shall be raised in power. When thoughts like these
are brought home to the breast, there is consolation in them;
even the eye filled with tears, may brighten with the hope
of immortality.

We trust that the same good judgment which has presided over
the work thus far, will conduct it to its close. It stands
in complete and honorable contrast with most resting places
of the dead. There are few of those monuments, which seem
intended to commemorate the folly of the living, rather than
the memory of the departed――few of those inscriptions which
tell us of those who sleep below, not what they were, but
what they ought to have been. We cannot say that we admire
the rocky cells of the tomb, with their heavy iron grates;
but the taste in this respect is generally governed by early
associations, and we shall not presume to censure feelings
which we do not understand. Among the monuments are many
of great beauty; we were struck with a plain black marble
obelisk of exquisite polish, ornamented only by a single
cross, in relief, on the surface of the stone. There
are several granite obelisks, of plain and almost severe
simplicity, which are admirably suited to the place and the
purpose: several fine monuments of white marble, among which
are an unfinished column, and a cenotaph erected by the
mechanics of Boston to the memory of a lamented young man,
who died at a distance from his home. We apprehend that the
whitest of this marble, however bright at first, will be
soon defaced and blackened by the droppings from the trees
above; it is generally less firm and hard than such as is
veined and shaded, and therefore not so well suited for
memorials that are meant to resist the elements and the
waste of time. The classical form is generally preferred
for this purpose, and with good reason; the ancients have
left us little to do in these respects but to follow their
example. We did not see a single copy of the tomb discovered
by Dr. Clarke, in Naxos, which is in our view one of the
most imposing, and is found in some places in this country.
The _cippus_ is well calculated also for our purposes: we
want monuments of simple outline; for there is taste enough
in our community generally, to feel that fine decorations
are out of their place in cities of the dead. The outline
is more to be regarded than the color: marble of pearly
whiteness would contrast beautifully with the green
back-ground; but since it is less suited to the exposure
required, it is well to use the hardier material in which
our country abounds.