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SS ",lr" ' ' iiu " t00PXE1GHT xsoe, BY THE NEW YORK HERALD COMPANY.!
i
u irmny ourtng chlclcans, tcnaerl
IL, lambs and other ilva stock had
been carried oft by the wild beat-ts
of the Kentucky riiountains that
1 the negro inhabitants rose aa one
1 nian and passed a vote of ven
geance. A fund of thirty dollars
was raised to outfit the Big Game Hunt
ing Club, witli instructions to kill every
thing In sight that showed teeth or flour
ished a tail. Several bears were reported
in the gulches of the neighboring moun
tain and Red Bud Jim, president of the
Hunting Club, was ordered to bpare
neither the living nor the dead.
Owing to disappointment in getting his
hunting clothes and delay In finishing up
a brew of moonshine whiskey. Red Bud
Jim gave notice of a week's postponement
for the hunt. This was his ostensible
reason. But facts .pointed to a circus; U
had come to Sarsaparllla Centre for a two
night show, and the country expected to
turn out In a body. That night an event
occurred which ipaxalyzod the Hunt Club.
Soma wild cats or bears from the moun
tains entered the menagerie Just before
daylight and bit the nook of the giraffe,
stampeded the elephants, whlon destroyed
most of the saloons In town, and nearly
ruined tie show.
That was too much for the citizens. Red
Bud Jim was ordered to
mountains at once and kill bear for a
week. A big crowd assemhlpri
rioon to see the hunters off. Rfirl Rn iimi
carried an old army rifle with a bayonet.
Budd Taylor. had a double barrel shotgun'
(owner unknown). Deacon Todd said hi
would not "Jlne" the party, but he'd have
his doss ready, and if Hie "bar" came that
way his Kentucky rifle, with its patched
bullet, would kill the critter at tha first
hot. .
MIbs Lucy Ann, as usual,' was in for
sport. She carried the whiskey for the
crowd. Shs wore polka dot stockings and
a smile a yard wide. Her mother. Relink
Bluegrass, was In the height of Kentucky
fashion In an old automobile, coat and a
pair of opera aglsses, "jess to see it da
bsast 1 dead when he's shot' All rode
mules except Red Bud Jim, who was
mounted on a swayback cavalry horse
hat naa Served In the Cuban war.
They made a picturesque appearance as
they pranced out of town and galloped
away over the pike toward the mountains.
It Should be explained that they did not
forget tha dogs. No man, woman or child
in Kentucky travels a mile without a dog.
One was an English "p'imer dog." It had
been a gamester In Its day, but was de
moralised by the petting of Miss Lucy and
her friends, who fed It on hand cooked meat
and canned fruit and made It wear a big
blue ribbon day and night, which is enough
to ruin any dog. Then there were fierce
bloodhounds, ready for prey.
. Tha party had not proceeded more than:
half a mile before they- discovered the
freak of the show, a big jackrabbit, some
what gifted with human soeech. Just
enough to speak a few words in a squeaky,
squeally way, a sort of a cross between
a cat and a parrot. The show Deonle de
clared they could understand the freak. It
certainly was the most remarkable rabbit
aver seen in that part of the world or in
any other. The dogs paid no attention
to the creature, while tha pointer had his
nose In tha direction of tha old woman's
rams bag, which was filled fat with pork
sandwiches.
To give all the particulars or that jour
ney through the mountains would take up
too much space. Everybody had been
pitched oft a horse or mule once or twice
In trying to follow the supposed bear trails
In the mountains, but all were "game," and
on the cluh rode through the grand forest.
Suddenly the pointer dog, with the big
blue ribbon around its neck, started off,
with the bloodhounds trying to get free
from their leashes, held by the old woman,
Belinda. It was a spirited, ride, the mules
loping over logs and rocky creeks, with
tha swayback army nag cantering alonj?
Ilka a rabbit, and tha big dogs close on
the scent, filling the woods with trielr cries.
The hunters were stumbling over some
loose rock at the foot of a cliff, where bear
tracks led into some holes near the ground
under projecting ledges. That lit tie pointer
dog with the big blue bow on its neck ran
for the game, and sure enough out came a
frisky young bear snorting and sniffing
with tha blue ribbon disappearing through
the trees like a shot.
The second-hand "bloodhounds sought
shelter under the mules. Lucy leaned up
against Red Bud Jim, who was at her side,
and would have fainted dead away but for
the unearthly yell of her mother with the
bloodhounds. One of the big dogs, smell
ing the grease that had dripped on her
shoe from the fat pork sandwiches, began
licking at it. The old woman thought it
was a bear biting her. Her yells fright
ened everything within gunshot. Tha bear
On the Decline
By Albert E. Hunt.
HAS letter writing become a lost
art?
The query is suggested by a re
cent editorial In a local newspa-
I I per, lamenting the decline of epis-
tolary correspondence. Doing so.
it also raised a peculiar phase of
the question which is worth considering.
"Probably few men In this age write let
ters unless they have to," it said, "but
where are the women? They are, or should
be. the letter writers."
This provoked a Brooklyn woman to re
tort with an emphasis unusual for that
pastoral city of refuge. She demanded to
know why women should be the letter
writers? Have they more time? Have
they more opportunity? Have they type
writers? Have they nothing to do at
home? Is It not as much effort for them
to put their thoughts on paper as it Is for
the men? Vt'im mucn more to mat. ai
feet.
Vow. there Is matter for melancholy m
that reply. Instead of corroborating the
editorialist and enlarging upon the talents
of women as letter writers, which for the
greater glory of her sex she should have i both are more or less intellectually en
done, the Brooklyn woman evades the Is- dowed. for tha commonplace letter does
sue. More than that, by the Intemperance!
and what might be termed the Jerklness
of her epistle she unmistakably upsets his
argument. Which, perhaps, was her pur
pose after all.
But let us take up the two parts of tha
proposition in order. Undeniably it Is trua
that few men write latter nowadavs. ex
cept, perhaps, the very young men. By
letters In this connection Is meant not
those formal and brief business documeatjjthero should be system and arrangement
7
IF I?
gave two or three ci grunts and wad
dled off at dog-trot up the valley. At the
same time the steeds bolted, and never
stopped until they reached the open coun
try. It was a great sight when the Sarsapa
rllla Hunt Club of Kentucky found Itself
lined up alongside the bushes fencing in
Deacon Todd's wheat field. Courage had
returned. The dogs looked savage and
growled ferociously. The little pointer dog
with the blue ribbon on its neck braced up
and yelped as if giving defiance to a whole
menagerie of bears.
. Just then some otfher dogs were seen
bobbing over the hill ftom Deacon Todd's
noose, and about the same instant the
pointer dog got ecent of what was thought
to ibe big game, and ran spinning down
Che meadow fence toward a clump of wal
nut trees far away on the other side of
the farm.
Then it was that the club members
showed the mettle that was in them. It
was like a scene wltih the Rough Riders.
The mules laid (back their ears and sped
Mray witlj their hind legs cutting geomet
rical figures in the air. The big swayback
war horse seemed to smell a battle afar,
and he, too, threw 'himself Into contor
tions of Joy. In about half a minute the
Sarsa-parilla Hunt dub was tumbling head
first and feet up in parabolical curves to
ward the centre of the earth, but, unfortu-j
nately for tihem, they landed on hard!
grouud near some rocks. The horse and j
of Letter Writing and the
which go by the name and which pass
through the medium of a second party
namely, the unsympathetic typewriter.
The term anDlies to those intimate ef
fusions which your true letter writer comes
to with Joyous anticipation, or cuurae,
he must know the person he Is addressing.
He must be assured of understanding and
appreciation. Chesterfield, himself one of
the best of letter writers, said that a let
ter shows the person to whom it is writ
ten as well as tha person by whom it Is
written.
Granting, then, that the writer knows
how his letter will be received, he goes
to his purpose with pleasure and enthusi
asm. , He rolls his sleeves above his el
bows, he . chooses a pen that will not
splash, he sprawls over his desk and he
writes with a fine freedom of soul, pour
ing himself into his pages, yet with enough
self consciousness to pause occasionally
for a pet phrase or to polish off his pe
riods. Which is. Indeed, a proper trioute
to the receiver.
Let us. for tha sake of Illustration, sup
pose he Is writing a love letter to tha lady
of Tils heart.
We assume, of course, tnai
not enter into the present argument. That!
being tha case, what a glorious messenger,
what an exquisite go-between and tale
bearer is the letter!
Rousseau, prince of sentimentalists, said
that to write a good love letter ona ought
to 'begin without knowing what he means
to say and to end without knowing what
he has said. But that will not do. Neces
sarily, thought comes as ona writes, but
KlU HGJ,ir
the mules are prdbably running yet.
The little iblue ribbon dog, once a glori
ous English "ip!nter," poised his nose to
ward a lone tree and wouldn't budge an
inch. But the 'bloodhounds set up a series
of mournful howls, and to a spectator half
a mile away it semed as if all of Kentucky
was on a fox hunt, with a few bears and
wildcats thrown in.
Budd Taylor was the first on his feet
and began calling tthe roll. "Here I Is."
shouted Belinda Bluegrass, hoarsely. "I'se
here, too," chirruped Miss Lucy, with a
strawlberry smile on each ltp.
"Jess put my name down In big capital
letters, for I'se har too," said Red Bud
Jim, taking fresh squints at his rifle, as
he sharpened the bayonet on a boulder.
" 'Xamine my 'natomy and see if any
bones is broke," said Miss Lucy.
Red Bud Jim pinched her all over, and
said she was as sound as a ripe water
melon. Budd Taylor said he was all right,
and Miss Lucy's mother, who was eating
pork sandwiches and licking the pork fat
off the opera glasses, said "I'se in da best
ob health, dls mawnin. tank youse. Hope
you'se all well an' 'provin'."
"But how is dis hunt goln" on wldout
the hosses?" added the old woman.
"Don't you lose no sleep on dat ac
count," said Miss Lucy. Dese brave men
haint worryln' about hosses. Dey's all
hosses demselves, and the day will prove
It, or I ain't no ya'.ler gal."
"D&t's dead right. Miss Lucy," said
No one Is more captiously critical of let
ters than the beloved, although often they
themselves are not aware of the fact.
The lover always has something to say
to his lady, even though he has already
said It to' her every day tor the last year.
Therefore, It becomes a question of saying
it well, and therein lies the advantage of
the letter. It is only in books and on the
stage that the lover Is eloquent and im
passioned to the point of romantic beauty.
In life he cuts a rather foolish figure. If
he only knew It. There la always some
untoward circumstance to detract from
the charm. Sometimes It Is a wagon
which chooses to pass at the wrong mo
ment; sometimes It Is a cold In the head,
sometimes mosquitoes. There are a thou
sand and one drawbacks.
Besides, the hardest words In the Eng
lish language to say are. "I love you." And
the deeper the love, perhaps, the harder
the expression. Ask your average man in
what terms he proposed to his wife and
vou will be surprised to And how few used
that simple phrase, but this is not an in
fallible test, since most of them have for
gotten. In a letter the case is vastly different.
With a nimble pen. reserve and reluctance
depart.
Then I love you Decomes 'too
Sara and primitive. A whole lexicon of
other words may be employed to express
that thought, but dressing it up with liter
ary embroideries sentences which would
sound absurd If spoken, but which read
most poetically In the throbbing silences of
milady's boudoir.
Flowers of rhetoric are avoided by the
writer of good taste in such an epistle.
PrrjfrH"" of f"cy iends an appearance of
o
Budd Taylor, "we're agoln' to turn dls
hunt into a glorious fiasco ob success 'fore
de day Is ober."
At this very instant a Whole meadowful
of hysterics broke on the ear. Miss Lucy's
mother had her eyas fixed on something
near a tree and was laughing like a
maniac. But she had reason for hilarity,
for there at the foot of a tall sassafras,
sitting on his haunch, sat the talking Jack
rabbit from the show, making a noise like
a squeaking cider mill, and apparently
trying to say something. Then the pointer
dog started off again, with the Hunt Club
on foot following him. After a lively
dash across field they came to a halt near
some black walnut trees, and there stood
the pointer dog. Immovable, with Its nose
Axed on prey.
"Hit's big game, shore," screamed
Luoy Arm's mother. "She dat big mouff
ob yours," screamed Miss Lucy. "You'll
skeer de bar again." Perspiration stood
on the forehead of Budd Taylor, Who said
"de news Is too good to be true. Jess han'
me dat flower pot ob licker, an" I'll pre
pare for de work ob de hour."
Then all hands took a drink, and before
they had finished about a gallon of the
strongest Kentucky Moonshine was inside
them. Later Budd Taylor wanted to take
the nozzle off of the flowerpot and pour
the liquor Into them as they lay half intoxi
cated on the green sward.
But now the bloodhounds began to gt
busy, and the pointer advanced to the
Art of Writing
affectation and makes the whole thing
sound unreal. Yet there are verbal em
bellishments which. If adroitly applied,
certainly carry a charm, a subtle aroma
which lifts the heart message above the
mediocre. And this is well, because love,
though common. Is never commonplace.
In this connection it is hardly worth
while discussing the mere technicalities of
the art. A misspelled word may destroy
a passion If the lady is of a literary bent.
Only the other day a woman obtained a
divorce because her husband spelled
"enough" "a nuff." but that was before
the new system came in. We are talking.
however, of those who have been to schcol.
All that is needed. In short, for good
letter writing of the amatory kind Is fer
vor, naturalness and grace. Then every
body may become an adept In the art if
he has a mind to. The trouble Is, to mis
appropriate Lamb's phrase, so few have
the mind. Possibly that is the reason
why men do not write love letters any
more. They are so busy "moiling in the
gold mills" that they have lost the trick
of the softer graces. It Is doubtful if
many women are won In these times by
letter writing..
But what of the women, as the editorial
ist says? In spite of the Brooklyn per
son matron or maid? undoubtedly they
are the letter writers of to-day. But they
write,- for tha most part, to one another.
The woman who Indites a love letter in
the full, rich sense of tha term Is rare.
There are good reasons for this. Women
are not permitted an equal degree of
frankness with men. For tnem t pour
Jthemselves out with the sama ardor and
very foot of the tree, lifted his nose ana
pointed straight for a limb about twenty
feet from the ground. Miss Lucy said it
must be big game. Her old mother said it
was a ghost she could tell by its shadder.
But Red Bud Jim thoug-ht he saw a bear,
while Budd Taylor thought it was only a
catamount, yet mora dangerous than a
bear.
Red Bud Jim fired first, both barrels sim
ultaneously. He fell In a heap, and when
he came to his senses said the gun kicked
worse than a mule. Budd Taylor picked
up courage and moved forward, gun in
hand, with bayonet pointed directly in the
direction of the game. As he was about to
shoot. Miss Lucy went into hysterics.
The dogs howled and tried to break from
their leashes, and then the talking rabbit
from the show stuck his head out from
behind a big dock leaf and squawked out
something like this:
A Jav blnl sot on de top of a limb;
He winked at m. and I wlnkrd at him;
I picked up a rock and apllt bla abin.
And aald, ''Now, Jay bird, wink ai'in."
This broke the spell and brought every
member of the Sarsaparllla Hunt Club to
his senses, and for the first time Miss Lucy
revealed the whereabouts of the game.
Sure enough It was a Jaybird on a visit to
Kentucky from Jonesborough. Union
county. III. Tot feeling very well that
morning, the Jaybird had taken a before
breakfast constitutional, and by chance
was meditating on the mutability of affairs
Love Letters
copiousness would be unbecoming and In
congruous. They are the beloved, not the
lovers. Men love; women love to De loved.
Every woman Instinctively recognizes
this distinction. That Is why so few o
them write letters that are satisfying to
the unthinking lover. Is a complete re
versal of the case. They can make love
better by speech or by silence than by
writing. Whereas men wax eloquent with
ink, women grow timid and restrained.
And when they do write love letters these
are generally stilted and wordy, even
i though the warmest feeling may glow be-
tween the lines.
True, there are exceptions to this, but
KV.rtc.-n ,ra on 1 v for a. blessed few. What
can be more delicious than a woman's
letter that rings true in every word ana
thought and suggestion? It Is the flower
of life, the consummation of all poesy,
a glimpse of infinity. It is the lark sing
ing at' Heaven's gate.
And, being so, who shall presume to
frame rules, and regulations for its mak
ing? Every man will write his letters in
his own nature-given fashion, and so will
ever "-" , "J- V .
factory, lJJm
them Therefore the whole argument,
though pleasing, is futile. Those who care
to do so will write love letters whether
they know the trick or not. and for the
rest, as Christopher Sly said, "let Oie
world elide!"
Dr. Marcus Fltsherbert, a negro phy
sician, who in early life was a shoemaker.
Is recognized as New England's leading
specialist In electro-therapeutics.
n Deacon Todd's farm, when tne nolsa
of the Hunt (Tub attracted its attention.
Thus it was that the bird had witnessed
the runaway when the war horse and
mules threw their riders and galloped
away Into the forests. Then everybody
collapsed, and some time next day they
were over their spree and assembled in the
rooms of the club, where Bud Taylor was
to make his report of the great bear hunt.
In substance, he said:
"We found seventeen b'ars In a tree,
keepln" watch ober a lot oh young cubs
playin' In de sun at de mouff of a cave on
de groun' below. Den we saw a lot more
b'ars on all de odder -trees yarahouts, mak
ln' altogether somethln' like two hundred
b'ars, wid at least forty cubs, each one as
bUr as a spring shoat.
"Howsomebber, we weren't skeered and
Jess turn the dogs loose on de-m cubs.
Dat made ebery b'ar Jump to de rescue.
Now, as de rocks projected ober de place
where de cubs was playin" under de ledge,
de b'ars hit da sharp pints ob dem rocka,
and more'n haf ob dem b'ars was killed
right dar on de spot. Meanwhile de dogs
pulled de cubs out an' piled dem up like
cord wood bettween de trees. We counted
de carcasses ob de cubs free times, an
foun' only one missln'. We counted de
b'ars all dat nigvht, and dan contracted wid
Deacon Todd to hah dem skinned, dressed
and packed in barrels for winter eatln' by
de club."
The applause and hoorah that followed
this statement Fhook the building to Its
centre, and the gallery noons were beard
to crack sveral times distinctly. Ths
meeting would have closed with unani
mous approval but for an impertinent
question asked by (Budd Taylor's rival for
the hand of Miss Luoy.
"I wan' ter ax Jess one question ob d
honor'ble genleman speakin' from de
cneer.
"Wat came ob all dat whJskey in dat
waterin' pot dat Lucy Ann's mudder
I carried?"
Here the assembly broke into an uproar
stones, umbrellas, hats and canes began'
to fly about the room, and the meeting
finally closed in great disorder, with no
one to ask what became of the rest Of
the boar.
The club was reorganized, nowever, a
month later, and the man that stole the
swayback horse and the mules was sum
marily dealt with. This restored confi
dence in the club, and now the squawk of
chickens Is heard in Kentucky roosts every
love-jniglu in the week.
COLOR OF THE BRIDE'S GOWN.
T is interesting to note that the cholc
of white for wedding dr.-sies is com
paratively a modern fashion Th
Roman brides wore yellow, and In the
most Eastern countries pink is the bridal
color. During the Middle Ages the Renais-
Jance Drmes wore crimson, and most of
Plantagenet and Tudor queens wer.
married In this vivid hue.
It was Mary Stuart who first changed
the color of bridal garments. At her mar
riage with Francis II. of France, In 1633
which took place not before the altar, but
before the great doors of Notre Dame
she was gowned in white brocade, with a
trail of pale blue Persian velvet six yards
in length. This Innovation caused quit
a stir In tha fashionable world at that
time.