In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

“BALD-HEAD BILL BAULDY,” AND HOW HE WENT THROUGH THE FLURRIDAY CAMPAIGN!— A Legend of the Hunter’s Camp— I. Second Saturday Night. The second week was at an end. Saturday had come! We had toiled, successfully, all the week; but Saturday, had been our crowning glory. We had achieved two bucks, fat as shoats in a fine mast season, a huge she bear, a doe, and two wild turkey gobblers; and had come out, triumphantly , in a hand to hand fight with a saucy panther who gave us battle from the jump; and the sun was yet an hour from his setting! Our amateurs sang cock-a-lory! They, too, had achieved some goodly work, having done most execution in the struggle with the panther. The Colonel, who was the dandy, the Beau, par excellence of our group, and who was supposed to be somewhat effeminate, had shown genuine pluck; and, after giving the panther two mortal shots, had the honour to be knocked over by the dying beast, and of bearing off, as trophies of his valour, three deep scratches on face, arm and bosom. He will swear by these to the day of his death! All parties were duly exultant! But how to get our “birds” down the mountain to the camp? Our amateurs were puzzled. Not so the hunters professional. Their ready wit, and long experience , made them equal to all emergencies. The great she bear was slung with leathern straps between two of the mounted men, while panther, bucks and doe, each tasked a single rider; and we made our way down in safety to our lonely hollow, between the gigantic masses, on every hand, of the Balsam Mountains, while our little cataract, sent up to our ears a lively chaunt of welcome and rejoicing, long before we came in sight! All parties now went to work with a vim! It was cold weather, be it remembered, and our amateurs, in spite of furs and flannels, were made to shiver. Rousing fires were soon kindled, and, without taking off our own, we very soon had stripped the jackets from the carcasses of all our victims; and the work of dissection went forward, under the dexterous butchery of the professional hunters, who are all first rate butchers, as well as excellent tanners. Of course, the peach and honey drams were not forgotten, and these were freely imbibed, at moderate intervals, while the anatomists went on with their work. It was now a slash in the meat, and now a swallow from the drink, and in the increasing rigours of the evening, no harm followed from the frequency of our potations! The preparations for supper went on also. Our cook knew his task. The one employed, at present, enjoyed quite a reputation for the excellence of his cuisine. He had joined our party during the week; and, as the hunters very soon learn to know in what each person is most an expert, “Bald Head Bill Bauldy”—otherwise “William Bauldy”—at once received his appointment, as Chief Cook and Bottle Washer during the encampment! Bald Head Bill—so called because of a head as clean of hair as the palm of a damsel’s hand; the scull polished as marble, and shining bright in the sun, as a sudden moonlight—had distinguished himself in the army; but much more as a cook than a soldier! Of this hereafter. He wore a wig of monstrous dimensions; a great shaggy mass of reddish brown hair, by which his natural deficiencies of cranium, were concealed. It was only as a favour to the amateurs of the party that he showed his naked skull, to illustrate the truth of the story which he subsequently told us of his experiences and adventures in the “FLURRIDAY WAR.” But of all these matters, anon! Well, you will please suppose supper at an end, and our hunters all happy and at ease, around a roaring fire; that our tent, pitched behind us, is amply supplied with convenient mattresses and any quantity of blankets, shawls and wrappers; that we can lie with our feet to the fire, or sit grouped around it, and spin our yarns to the common merriment ; while our baggage wagon, at hand, held its full stores of the creature comforts; the coffee, sugar, bread stuffs, bacon, and the demijohns of peach, honey, and mountain dew; all of which, like the famous cruse 310 BALD-HEAD BILL BAULDY [3.135.213.214...

Share