USA > West Virginia > Webster County > Moccasin tracks and other imprints > Part 15
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who had drunk deep from the wisdom of Solomon and Paul; a school teacher who had often lectured to his classes on Feudalism, Chivalry, and the Crusades; a railroad engineer who had safely carried his precious freight of human lives through many dangers from fire and flood. The fifth member of the party was called "Bach," because he never worked in double harness in coming down the rocky lane of life. The many slights he had received from the girls had not soured his dis- position. Being on the sunny side of forty, he is what the world would call a jolly bachelor.
One evening after supper when the events of the day had been discussed by each member of the party, the attorney and the theologian were talking of the har- mony existing between the Law of the Gospel; the en- gineer and the teacher were discussing the feasibility of a railroad from Boston to Buenos Aires; "Bach" was smoking his pipe in silence, probably thinking of some fair creature who had crossed his pathway many years ago.
"Why, Bach," said the teacher, "what's wrong? You look as glum as a cowled monk. Come, take a 'wee drap of the crathure.' as the Irish washerwoman would say, to brace you up, and tell us why you never mar- ried." After sitting in silence for some time enough of the 'crathure' was taken to drive away the blues. Bach resumed his accustomed seat and said: “Have you observed the curiosity, wrongly called sympathy, manifested towards a person who is supposed to have met with unfortunate circumstances ? He is plied with questions by the curious until he is driven to despair,
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if not to absolute distraction. The secrets of his past life must be laid bare before an inquisitive public. What is considered a misfortune by some is not so considered by others. I can see no legitimate reason why a bache- lor should be made the object of such fond solicitude and sympathy. Perhaps some woman would have been made very unhappy had he married. Many a woman would have been happier had she relegated her so-called husband to the ranks of bachelorhood. While I am not at all sensitive on the question of being a bachelor, I do not discuss the subject even with my most intimate friends. Now, as to why I am not a married man, I shall not attempt to answer, but will instead give you an account of some of my experiences with the fair sex during my courting days.
"When I was about sixteen, I thought it was high time for me to marry out. I fell desperately in love with a little black-eyed girl of about my own age whose father lived four miles from my paternal home. I lost all interest in books and the boys who had been my companions in hunting and fishing. My sole delight was to be in the company of the girl who had so com- pletely captivated me. Her clear, well modulated voice was music celestial to my boyish ears. I went to see her each Saturday night, and sometimes remained over Sunday. One Monday morning I went home about eleven o'clock and hastened to the corn field, where corn hoeing was in progress. My father rather ab- ruptly asked me if I could not have left that girl a little earlier. I told him that I thought I would stay a week the next time I called on her. Nothing more was said at that time by either of us, but when we
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went home to dinner, father and I had a very stormy interview in the wood-shed, in which a good sized leather strap played a very prominent part. After that for some time I spent my Saturday afternoons in hook- ing suckers along the river. The boys were again my companions.
"Time deals gently with a boy of sixteen, and heals bruises as well as broken hearts. It was not many months before I again fell a victim to a pair of eyes as blue as the sky on a June day after a thunder storm. This time in order to be on the safe side I asked my father's permission to visit the young lady. My request was granted and he also said that he would not inter- fere, if I courted in moderation. But, alas ! there was another father whom I had forgotten to interview on the subject. I went to see her once in two weeks, and, as I thought, was making fair progress towards matri- mony. One Saturday night, or rather Sunday morn- ing, while we were sitting in the parlor her father in great wrath came into the room. I had always ob- served that he had a very large foot, but I did not know until that night that he wore a number thirteen boot. I was ejected from the house with such force and so unceremoniously that in order to show my utter contempt for the old gentleman, I never called again. I must confess that for some years I lost all interest in eyes of any color. and found solace in rod and gun. The boys who had been discarded for some months were again admitted to companionship. But it was always my misfortune to get mixed up in some luckless love affair.
"When I was twenty-eight I met a dashing widow of
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thirty who had been represented to me as fairly well- to-do as far as this world's goods are concerned, and also that she was not encumbered with any children. I wrote to her asking permission to call on a certain Sunday and received a favorable answer. Promptly at the appointed hour, I called and was welcomed with her most winsome smiles. She led the way into the best room. We talked of the weather, the crops, and the neighbors. I heard muffled voices and the shuffle of little feet in the closet. The widow talked in her most voluble manner, and in a somewhat louder tone than was her usual custom. Presently a little squeaky voice called out, 'Mamma, has the man left yet? Jane and Sam is pinchin' me and Mary won't make 'em quit.' Mother of saints ! At least four little fatherless children cooped up in the closet! Thinking it would be cruel to remain longer, I took my departure more hastily than the strict rules of etiquette would have warranted. It is passing strange how easily an old bachelor can lose interest in a dashing widow. I never repeated that call, but again went to the river in search of suckers. I had been very forcibly reminded of the fact that all suckers were not to be found in the water.
"It is now very obvious that I did not profit by past experience, for my heart was again lost, to a spinster of very doubtful age, who nevertheless, was very at- tractive; her teeth were of pearly whiteness ; her cheeks were ruddy as the rose when first kissed by the sun- light of the morning; her glossy hair gleamed like threads of gold. When in her presence I experienced the same rapturous delight felt prior to the little epi-
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sode in the wood-shed, which had occurred twenty years previous to that time. I often called upon her by ap- pointment and was always received by her in the most approved manner. She was neither too affectionate nor unduly reserved. I have often thought since then that she was past master in the pleasing art of court- ship. I forgot the wise counsel of my father in regard to courting in moderation, and on a Wednesday called unexpectedly. Right there, as Uncle Remus says, is where I broke my molasses jug, or rather that of the young lady. Not finding her in the parlor I went in- to the kitchen. It was washday. When she saw me she tried to cover her mouth with one hand and the top of her head with the other. With a muffled scream she fell in a swoon. I carried her into the house, and, after a liberal application of cold water, she slowly re- vived. She looked up at me with a glassy stare without making an effort to speak. The color of the rose was not on her cheeks when I called; her head looked like a Webster county forest after a Pennsylvania logging crew had gone through it; her teeth-well, she had none at all. Had I met her in the street in the condi- tion in which I found her, I should have addressed her as grandma. I left as soon as I had recovered from the shock."
At the close of Bach's story plans were laid for the morrow, and the fire having burnt low, each sought his bed of spruce and hemlock boughs, where sleep more refreshing could be secured than on beds of down.
FROM THE WILLIAMS TO LAKE ERIE.
The Angler left Cowen on a beautiful morning in May and in the evening of the same day went into camp at the mouth of Big Beechy on the Williams for a three weeks outing among the trout. Many large trout were secured and amidst the picturesque scenery of that region many things that gladden the heart of one who delights to study nature in her various moods were both seen and heard. The native simplicity of the people; the many species of birds to be seen, and the cold, sparkling water as it comes dashing down a declivity must be seen before they can be fully appre- ciated. The Hammons family is the most numerous one in the vicinity of Big Beechy. They have lived here for many years and are typical backwoodsmen- a class of people that is becoming fewer as the county becomes more thickly settled. The Hammonses are the best bee hunters, deer stalkers and trout fishers in West Virginia. Big Pete is a good representative of the family. He knows where to find a deer or a bear in any season of the year; he is a crack shot-the best on the river; he can find a bee tree where other ex- perts fail to find a "course ;" he knows where to look for the largest trout, and while he is not considered the musical genius of the family, vet when he takes down his fifty dollar violin and plays the "Cumberland Gap" -
and sings in his best style this couplet,
"Lay down boys and take a little nap,
For you'll catch h-1 in the Cumberland Gap,"
to use one of his most expressive sayings, "I hope I
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may die," if it is not worth going to the Middle Fork to hear him.
These people have but little, if any, "book larnen," but they are well versed in woodcraft and wild animal life. Big Pete was asked by the Angler if he was ever lost in the vast forest around the head waters of the Williams and Cranberry rivers. "No," said Pete, "but I have been bothered as much as three days at a time." A tenderfoot would have thought that wandering through the trackless forest for three days without food, sleeping under the pines at night, and listening to the melancholy hoot of the owl, was being lost with a ven- geance, yet the hardy mountaineer referred to it as being bothered. In a day's travel from the Three Forks to the Dead Water, a distance of fourteen miles, in com- pany with two members of the before-mentioned fam- ily. about fifty species of birds were seen. My com- panions could tell some interesting fact about each species, and they had a local name for each which in the majority of cases was the correct one. They could not only tell the time of their migrations but their songs and call notes could be imitated. Upon inquiry it was ascertained that the birds were fed in the winter by them. A bird which is a shining mark for many so-called sportsmen is never shot by a Hammons.
On his return from the mountains to Cowen the Angler was invited by a friend, a veteran of the Civil War, to visit him in East Springfield, Pennsylvania. The invitation was most gladly accepted. Meeting his friend at Wainville, the first stop was made at Clarks- burg. This busy, thriving little city, centrally located,
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is destined to become one of the most thriving commer- cial centers of West Virginia. Coal, coke, the manu- facture of iron and glass, and the machine shops will place the city in the front rank. It is surrounded by the best farm and grazing land to be found in the state.
Fairmont, where some of our very best teachers re- ceived their training, still retains its old-time vigor. It is rapidly increasing in wealth and population. It was in this town in 1894 that the writer had the pleas- ure of meeting Francis H. Pierpont, the "Grand Old Man" of West Virginia, who lived here at that time.
Morgantown, the Athens of West Virginia, a busy, hustling town, is the seat of the State University. It was here that a large majority of the lawyers, judges and politicians of the state were educated. This town has the double commercial advantage of having both railroad and water transportation. Coal, coke, and
various manufactories, backed by good farming and grazing land, will make Morgantown one of the most prosperous cities in the Monongahela valley. In travel- ing through Lewis, Harrison, Marion, and Monongalia counties some of the best farm land in the state is to be seen. The cattle, horses, sheep and hogs are of the best and show the result of careful breeding.
From Morgantown it is one hundred and five miles to Pittsburgh, the "Gateway of the West." The Monon- gahela Valley is of great interest to the student of American history. It was in this valley that General (then Colonel) Washington fought his first battle and surrendered Fort Necessity in 1754 to the French and Indians. It was here that General Braddock was so
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disastrously defeated in the next year. Washington and the Virginia "buckskin boys" by heroic fighting saved a remnant of the army.
Pittsburgh, with its five hundred thousand people, is a veritable bee-hive of industry. It is situated in the heart of bituminous coal, oil, and natural gas regions. A large part of the coke of the country and much of the iron and steel are made in or near Pittsburgh. Large quantities of machinery are made here. This city is the greatest center in the world for the manufacture of plate glass. Allegheny, now a part of Pittsburgh, is noted for the manufacture of pickles, packed meats, and leather. Before the days of railroads these two cities possessed the commercial advantage of the river routes afforded by the Ohio river, and the Alleghany and the Monongahela which unite here. Millions of tons of coal are shipped annually from Pittsburgh down the Ohio. There is a problem before the people of the city as to the handling of the immense amount of traffic. In Smithfield street one has to dodge the trolley cars, the ice and meat wagons, and the automobiles. For a man who has just come from the woods there is great danger of being run over. It would be but little con- solation to the victim to know that he had been hit by a four thousand dollar machine.
The train was boarded in Allegheny city and the last stage of the journey was begun. Some very rough, rugged country, rivaling in scenic beauty the Webster county hills, was passed through. Mars is in the oil field where hundreds of derricks can be counted at one sight. It is more than twenty-five years since this
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territory was first developed, yet it is still considered a rich field. Connelsville is situated in a rich coal terri- tory and shows many evidences of prosperity. Butler is a manufacturing town and is rapidly increasing in population. East Springfield is in Erie, the most north-west county in Pennsylvania. It is one of the best farming communities in the state. The country is comparatively level, having been smoothed down by the great Laurentian glacier ages ago. Each farmer has a telephone in his home and the mail is brought daily to his door. Railroads and trolley car lines are more plentiful than public highways in Webster. The Bessemer and Lake Erie has ninety-five pound steel rails, is double tracked and partly laid with steel cross- ties, but it has been discovered that under certain con- ditions they are not equal to wooden ties. This road was built by Andrew Carnegie and carries coal, coke, iron, and steel to western markets. It also carries ore from Lake Erie to the iron and steel mills in the Pitts- burgh district. Conneaut, in Ashtabula county, Ohio, has a good harbor. Large whale-back steamers bring red hematite and black band iron ore from the Lake Superior regions.
Some of these steamers are six hundred feet long and carry twelve hundred tons of ore which is unloaded in four and one-half hours by a machine called a "clam shell." It is then loaded on cars and shipped east to the foundries.
This region has good public roads, some of which are macadamized. Travel is always by carriages or automo- biles. No one is ever seen on horseback.
This is a great country for birds. Many old friends
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of other days were met and many new acquaintances were formed. It is essentially the summer home of the robin and the brown thrasher. Scores of each species can be found in a short ramble. Lake Erie is two hun- dred and forty-five miles long, with an average width of sixty miles. While sixty miles is not a long flight for a bird, many of the smaller species prefer to nest along the southern shore of the lake.
My friends accused me of attempted poaching on the lake by casting a fly from the Ohio shore within the three mile limit in the Canadian waters. This feat with an eight foot bamboo and one hundred and fifty feet of line would be no easy task to perform, the dis- tance being fifty-seven miles to the forbidden waters.
Fish are very plentiful in Conneaut creek. This stream would be called a river in West Virginia, it being sixty-five miles from its source to where it flows into the lake. Muskalonge, pike, pickerel, bass, rock bass, dace and many other species go up the creek in the spring and early summer to spawn. This was a favorite stream with the Indians, who came here in large numbers to spear fish in its clear water. The name is of Indian origin and means sweet water.
Erie county is noted for woodchucks. These animals are called groundhogs in West Virginia. Farther east in Warren county leeks grow in abundance. These plants are called ramps in Webster county. Both wood- chucks and leeks are eaten by the people. If Pennsyl- vanians eat woodchucks and leeks, there can be no valid reason why . West Virginians should not eat ground- hogs and ramps, although Tom Daly says that if a native of Webster persists in the habit for any length
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of time there is danger of his voting the Democratic ticket.
One would naturally suppose from the varied indus- tries of Pensylvania that a cosmopolitan population would be found. But to be sold a glass of beer by a German from Heidelburg; to be shaved by a Spaniard from Barcelona ; to have one's shoes shined by a Greek from Athens; to have an Afro-American carry one's baggage to a hotel; to be "cussed" by a washerwoman from Austria, and to escape arrest with difficulty by an Irish policeman from Dublin because one "sassed" back in good Webster county style, was quite an experience for one who had heard a wolf howl and had seen a bear track at the Big Slip on the Williams only a week previous.
WINTER BIRD FRIENDS.
Bird life in Webster county during the winter is not very extensive. It comprises two well-defined groups -winter visitants and permanent residents. A few summer residents sometimes prolong their stay until Christmas, and in very rare instances they remain throughout the long, dreary winter. The robin, the blue bird, and the towhee are the three species most fre- quently found here when other migratory birds have left for the south.
The winter season is a very favorable time for bird study. The species are not so numerous as to be con- fusing even to those who have given but little time to the study of their form, color, song, or habits. Birds are not so timid during very cold weather and will ven- ture to the doorstep if they are given the least encour- agement. Many bird lovers feed them when snow covers the ground. Lunch counters are provided for the purpose where the diners are in no danger of being molested by the house cat. This practice of feeding the birds is a very commendable one. It has a tendency to attract them to one's premises. But very few, if any, of the winter birds will freeze to death when plentifully supplied with food. The normal temperature of a bird is much higher than in quadrupeds, and, because of this fact, a greater amount of food is required to maintain the body heat. The amount of food a bird consumes daily is astonishing. It sometimes amounts to almost the weight of the bird.
WINTER VISITANTS.
The Junco.
The junco, or slate-colored snowbird, is the most nu- merous family of winter visitants. It is known to every one, for its acquaintance can be most readily made. It arrives in the latitude of Webster Springs as early as the middle of October and usually remains un- til the latter part of April. During their stay they consume large quantities of the seeds of harmful plants. They nest as far north as New England and southern Canada. Many become permanent residents of Webster county, nesting in the high mountain regions on the head waters of the Gauley and the Williams rivers and their tributaries. Just before leaving for their summer home, the junco sings a very simple but sweet song, thus paying for any hospitality which they received. The song somewhat resembles that of the chipping sparrow, which is a distant relative. The nest is a very simple affair, located on the ground under the side of a rock or a log.
The Golden-Crowned Kinglet.
The members of this family are very small birds, very much resembling warblers. It may be identified by its orange and gold crown. Its arrival and depar- ture closely coincides with that of the junco.
The golden-crown is usually found in pairs, nerv- ously flitting about the terminal twigs in search of in- sect food. During the winter it may be found from Maine to Florida and it nests from North Carolina to
·
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southern Canada. They sing during the nesting season only. It is very interesting to watch a pair of these tiny birds feeding. Each twig is inspected for small insects or their eggs. They are not at all shy, but will come very near a person when they are feeding. These little midgets in feathers make a winter landscape less gloomy by their presence.
The Winter Wren.
The winter wren is the baby of the family of wrens. It arrives here in late autumn and departs in the early spring. It is found in the vicinity of thick under- brush and fallen timber. Lumber yards are favorite haunts. When alarmed winter wrens seek shelter in hollow logs, under the upturned roots of trees or in a water hole. As songsters they are not excelled by many birds of larger size. They are easily identified by their diminutive size and short erect tails. This wren nests in the higher altitudes of Webster.
The Brown Creeper.
There are twelve known members of this family, yet the brown creeper is the only American representative. It is a northern bird and breeds at sea level from Maine to the Arctic Circle and along the Alleghany mountains to North Carolina. They arrive here very late in autumn and they are always busy feeding on the eggs and larvæ of insects. The creeper begins at the base of a tree and winds around and around, ex- ploring every nook and crevice until it reaches the top,
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and then without a moment's pause drops to the base of the next one. It, like the wood-pecker, is never seen with its head downward, but using its strong, stiff- pointed tail feathers as a prop, travels rapidly up a tree.
The only note uttered while in our midst is a fine squeak not unlike that of a bat, but in its northern home it sings an exquisite song of four distinct notes.
PERMANENT RESIDENTS.
Our permanent residents are not lacking in birds of brilliant plumage or in sweet songsters. Who has not noted the pleasing contrast of a cardinal grosbeak against a background of snow? What is more cheerful than the song of a Carolina wren or a song sparrow on a clear February morning ? While all bird admirers give a cordial welcome to winter visitants, and summer residents, the native species seem to be the general fa- vorites, because they brave the summer heat as well as the winter sleet and snow.
But very few individual birds remain in the same locality throughout the entire year. They move south at the approach of winter. The birds that spent the summer in the Elk valley moved south and members of the same species from forther north took their place. In the spring they will return to the vicinity in which they nested last year.
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The Song Sparrow.
The song sparrow is one of our most common perma- nent residents. This bird is usually found on the bor- der of a thicket, on or near the ground. If there be a little brook near, bordered with weeds or thick rushes, he is almost certain to be found there. When the deep snow covers the ground look for him about the barn, under board walks or buildings that are not resting on the ground. He will be known by his brown coat, long tail, and mottled breast, with a black spot in the cen- ter. The song sparrow is a sweet singer and with the exception of a short period in August he may be heard throughout the year. Chapman says that his modest chant always brings good cheer and contentment, but when heard in silent February, it seems the divinest bird lay to which mortal man ever listened. The magic of his voice bridges the cold months of spring; as we listen to him fields seem green, and bare branches seem clothed in rustling leaves.
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