MR. LANMAN'S A.DFENTERES OF Are ANGLER.
Ma. Lanman is a New York editor, with a passion for angling ; and in May last he determined to suspend his editorial labours for a while and indulge himself in a piscatorial ramble. The first scene of his ex- cursion was the less settled lands in the vicinity of the Hudson, and the Northern parts of the State of New York that stretch nearly to Montreal. Crossing the St. Lawrence, our tourist looked about at the former capital of Upper Canada; passed on to Quebec; and thence descended to the mouth of the Saguenay river, which, flowing from Lake St. John, may be said to form the Western boundary of Labrador. Here Mr. Lanman so- journed for some time, employing himself in fishing excursions ; and finally returned to New York by New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, and Maine.
This was a novel route, only likely to be taken by a person who had some pursuit beyond that of mere travel; but Mr. Lanman does not make the best of his subject. He may be a pretty good practical angler, (though of that we have doubts, judging from his returns,) but he wants the scientific skill which gives precision and largeness to the descriptions of some European anglers ; neither does he seem to have set about his sport with a proper sense of its importance. His angling, however, might have been overlooked, had he really done or seen anything else worth telling ; but such is rarely the case. His school, if not a bad one, is a dangerous one for an imitator. He is a follower of Wilson, but with- out Wilson's imagination or his force. He too often substitutes fancies for observation, rhapsody for description; and when he attempts specific information, he hardly seems to know what the world requires ; for he devotes a whole chapter to an account of the Esquimaux, which he picked up from an old Indian speaking imperfect Canadian French !
Whether these defects arise from incapacity to observe, or from a vicious habit of wordmongering, we cannot say ; but the best thing in the book is a chapter where Mr. Lanman acts only as a reporter to a genuine Yankee. In the course of his rambles through the remoter parts of New York, he fell in with an old hunter of the name of Cheney. This veteran gave Mr. Lanman some account of his adventures and observations, which the editor took down, apparently preserving the hunter's words : and they form the most interesting part of the book, both as regards freshness of matter and closeness of style.
THE DOG BUCK.
I've raised some fifty of this animal in my day, but I never owned such a tormented smart one as that fellow Buck. I believe there's a good deal of the English mas- tiff in him; but a keener eye than he carries in his head I never saw. Only look at that breast of his: did you ever see a thicker or more solid one? He's hand- somely spotted, as you may see; but some of the devilish Lake Pleasant Indians cut off his ears and tail about a year ago, and he now looks rather odd. Yon may not believe it, but I have seen a good many men who were not half as sensi- ble as that very clog. Whenever the fellow's hungry, he always seats himself at my feet and gives three short barks, which is his way of telling me that he would like some bread and meat. If the folks happen to be away from home, and he feels a little sharp, he pays a regular visit to all the houses in the village, and after playing with the children, barks for a dry crust, which he always receives, and then comes back to his own home. He's a great favourite among the chil- dren; and I've witnessed more than one fight among the boys because some wicked little scamp had thrown a stone at him. When I speak to him, he understands me just as well as you do. I can wake him out of a sound sleep, and by my say- ing, " Buck, go up and kiss the baby," he will march directly to the cradle and lick the baby's face. And the way he watches that baby when it's asleep is per- fectly curious: he'd tear you to pieces in three minutes if you were to try to take it away.
Buck is now four years old; and though he has helped me to kill several hun- dred deer, he never lost one for me yet. Whenever I go a-hunting, and don't want him along, I have only to say, "Buck, you must not go," and he remains quiet. There's no use in chaining him, I tell you; for he understands his busi- ness. This dog never starts after a deer until I tell him to go, even if the deer is in sight. Why, 'twas only the other day that Tiger brought in a doe to Lake Colden, where the two had a desperate fight within a hundred yards of the spot where Back and myself were seated. I wanted to try the metal of Tiger, and told Buck he must not stir; though I went up to the deer to see what the ;Mtn would be between the fighters. Buck didn't move out of his tracks; but the way he howled for a little taste of blood was perfectly awful. I almost thought the fellow would die in his agony. Back is of great use to me when I am off hunt- ing, in more ways than one. If I happen to be lost in a snow-storm, which is sometimes the case, I only have to tell him to go home, and if I follow his track am sure to come out in safety; and when sleeping in the woods at night, I never have any other pillow than Buck's body.
MOOSE-HUNTING.
The most savage animal that I hunt for among these mountains is the moose, or caraboo, as I've heard some people call them. They're quite plenty in the re- gion of Long Lake and Lake Pleasant; and if the hunter don't understand their ways, he'll be like to get killed before he thinks of his danger. The moose is the largest animal of the deer kind, or, in fact, of any kind, that we find in this part of the country. His horns are very large, and usually look like a pair of crab- apple-trees. He has a long head, long legs, and makes a great noise when he travels; his flesh is considered first-rate, for he feeds upon grass and the tender buds of the moose maple; he is a rapid traveller, and hard to tire out. In winter they run in herds; and when the snow is deep, they generally live in ono par- ticular place in the woods, which we call a "yard." The crack time for 4Wg them is in the winter, when we can travel on the snow with our braided snow- shoes.
I once killed two moose before nine o'clock in the morning. I had been out s- hunting for two days, in the winter, and when night came I had to camp out near the foot of Old fahawas. When I got up in the morning, and was about to start for home, I discovered a yard, where lay a couple of bull moose. I don't know what they were thinking about, but just as soon as they saw me theyjumped up and made directly towards the place where I was standing. I couldn't get clear of their ugly feet without running; so I put for a large dead tree that had blown over, and walking to the butt of it, which was some ten feet high, looked down in safety upon the devils. They seemed to be very mad about something, and did everything they could to get at me by running around: and I remember they ran together, as if they had been yoked. I waited for a good chance to shoot; and when I got it, I fired a ball clean through one of the animals into the shoulder of the second. The first one dropped dead as a door-nail; but the other took to his heels, and after going about fifty rods concluded to lie down. I then came up to him, keeping my dogs back, for the purpose of sticking him; when he jumped up again, and put after me like lightning. I ran to a big stump, and after I had fairly fixed myself, I loaded again, and again fired, when the fellow tumbled in the snow quite dead.
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