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■es!ec-ofe-ledLS71s,iselinr;;eleyreef.ofleIitInnI* iFrom,the Spirit of tUe Time*.4 Arkansas Snipe..“Good bye ! Tako eare of yourself, and give those bears particular fits!” sung out Dory, as the plank of the steamboat on which we were bound down the Mississippi was drawn in, and we left our friend Monroe—one night last winter 011 the wharf boat at Napoleon, Arkansas.We should have left him in pitch tjarkness had it not been for the pitch-pine lights which shed a halo of glory around his head, and the tail of his Newfoundland dog. They were bound up the Arkansas River on a bear hunt. A more • whole-souled man, or a finer dog, never walked—although a Scotch terrier ts a better dog for bears--and as we left him behind, there was a sense of something lost.In order to find composure and till up the vacuum, we adjourned to the Exchange or Social Hall of the steamboat to take a “snifter.” On entering the favored;region we were at once made ‘aware of the fact that the Hackensack-iaris at Napoleon considered a fair ‘/exchange” no robbery ; in payment of our Roland of a Monroe they had given us an Oliver of an Ar-kansian. He was .a beauty. Straight as a hickory sapling, and fully as tough, he seemed to be just the stuff that red-eye whiskey-barrel hoops are made of—water-proof at that*. He was already a firm friend of the barkeeper, having taken two drinks inside of ninety seconds, and as he still wore a thirsty look in his left eye, we at once asked him to take another. “Stranger,” said he, “count me in that*!”So we did, and after drinks all round, wo settled about/the stove with cigars. Oonver sation soon fell on hear-hunting. deer-hunting, and finally was closed up with a description of a “mighty big coon-Uunt,” wherein our friend put some whi»ky horsdu combat,or out of harm’s wav—cut down an untold number of cottonwood or pekan trees, and pitched into a live oak till he made dead wood of it ; and finally killed, 011 thatjme, night, one hundred coons, whose unitedweight he judged to be well onto a ton ! .After this we knew the man, but Dory, in whose locks the “hay-seed” still gleamed, was moved, in turn, to tell kis tale of hunting, and dwelt long and feebly on a certain snipe-shoot: ing excursion, wherein each gunner bagged his four dozen birds—he diew it strong', being away from home—and went on sawing away about how the snipes, rose and fell, until Rack-ensackian woke up with the question :'hat ar’ snipe*?”.pe,” said Dory, “are. the best game that flies. The kind 1. mean are called English or Wilson’s snipe, and are splendid ! Long legs, long bills, dusky hue ,“Stran ger, stop thar I I’ve seon the critters ; know ’em like an old boot,” interrupted the Rackensackian. ■ “Eve been drrwn' in the Lewsinnny swamps—I have! Do you really eat them ar’ cntteis at the North ?”“Certainly we do,” said Dory ; “hut you said you had been down in the Louisiana swamps — they winter there, I expect ?”“Winter and summer both. Thar ax’ a few,F should think, in Arkan.saw ! Two of my boys was down choppin’ wood for the steamer t’other day, and them ar’ snipe sung so loud they came back at night-and said there was a camp meetin’ goin’ on down the river.” *“Sing 1” Inquired Dory. “Thai is Mngular. At the North, as they rise, I have heard them utter a low whistle, but never knew they sung before.”“Sing /” said the Raekensackian.^Hhey singso they make my ha’r stand on eehd* You ratdy shoot them ar’ critters on to the Nbnh { Stranger, if you’ll come up to my plantation and shoot ojf the crop tliar* Eil give you the best horse you can pick out, aud throw in anigger to take keer of him.”“Where do you live?” asked Dory. “Tf ever I am up your way, you'll have to oweme a horse and a negro.”“Wail, stran-ger, I live at Powder-horn P’int, on Me to Creek, ’bout thirty miles from Napoleon, and cuss me if the man that shoots off them ar’ birds for me don’t be my eternal friend —he will! Look hyar, the infernal things pitched into my youngest child arter itwas born, so that its bead swelled up as bigas a punkin“Pitched into your child ?—swelled head ! big as a pumpkin ! Did snipe do this ?” asked Dory, in great hopes of having discovered something new.“Wall, they did. Leastwise what you caffsnipe. We call ’em inutiJee-ters !”Grand tableau,. Curtain descends to slow music of toddy-sticks, broken ice, and the song of an Arkans; S Snipe !
Newspaper Details
Gettysburg Republican Compiler
Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, US
Mon, Dec 31, 1855
Page 1
Full Page
Clipped by
Kevin S.
CA 12 Mar 2022
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