Leaves from the Records of St. Hubert's Club; or, Reminiscences of sporting expeditions in many lands

Front matter

LEAVES FROM THE RECORDS OI ST. HUBERT'S CLUB; OR, REMINISCENCES OF SPORTING EXPEDITIONS IN MANY LANDS. u\ GEORGE E. BULGER, F.L.S. Captain 10th Regiment. •' When Time, who steals our years away, Shall steal our pleasures too, The mem'ry of the past will stay, And half our joys renew." Moore. LONDON: L. BOOTH, 307 REGENT STREET, W. 1864. LONDON: Stranoeways and Walden, Printers, Castle St. Leicester Sq. TO WALTER SHANLEY, ESQUIRE, OF THORNDALE, CANADA WEST, I INSCRIBE THIS BOOK AS A SMALL TRIBUTE OF FRIENDSHIP AND ESTEEM. G. E. BULGER.

Preface

. The majority of the papers from which the follow ing pages have been compiled, were originally collected for my own amusement, and, subsequently, some of them appeared in the columns of the " North Lincoln Sphinx," a periodical printed for private circulation amongst the officers and men of the Second Battalion, Tenth Regiment. Circumstances have since then led to these papers being offered to the public in the present form, and I can only hope that they may prove acceptable. A few of the chapters record the results of personal . experience ; the remainder are descriptive of incidents in the sporting career of friends and acquaintances, the main facts of which are I believe quite accurate, and the details in most instances strictly unembeilished. G. E. B. CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE I. THE CAMr ON FIRE ISLAND ..... 1 II.

OUR TRIP TO THE THOUSAND ISLANDS . . .10 HI. OUR TRIP TO THE THOUSAND ISLANDS, continued . 21 IT. THE CRUISE OF THE "SILVER STAR" ... 33 V. FRANK REDFERN'S STORY ..... 43 vi. frank redfern's story, continued ... 60 VII. frank redfern's story, continued ... 56 viii. frank redfern's story, continued ... 62 ix. frank redfern's story, continued ... 70 x. frank redfern's story, continued ... 74 xi. frank redfern's story, continued ... 79 XII. the doctor's story 86 xni. the doctor's story, continued .... 92 xrv. harry greenwood's journal . . . . 101 xv. harry greenwood's journal, continued . ■ 116 XVI. harry greenwood's journal, continued . ■ 131 XVII. AN AFTERNOON'S MAGPIE-HAWKING . . .147 CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE XVIII. A MORNING RIDE IN ENGLAND . . ■ .154 XIX. hendrick's STORY ....■• 164 XX. AN INDIAN SUMMER DAY ..... 177 XXI.

A RAMBLE IN SOUTH AFRICA .... 189 XXII. THE AMATOLA MOUNTAINS . . . • • 202 XXIII. THE BONTEP.OK FLATS ..... 212 xxiv. captain Morgan's journal .... 220 xxv. captain Morgan's journal, continued . . 226 xxvi. captain Morgan's journal, continued . . 237 xxvn. captain Morgan's journal, continued . . 246 xxvui. captain Morgan's journal, continued . . 257 xxix. captain Morgan's journal, continued . . 268 xxx. captain Morgan's journal, continued . . 287 xxxi. captain Morgan's journal, continued . . 309 xxxn. captain Morgan's journal, continued . .318

Chapter I. The

CAJir ON FIRE ISLAND. " I dreamt not then that, ere the rolling year Had fill'd its circle, I should wander here In musing awe ; should tread this wondrous world, See all its store of inland waters hurl'd In one vast volume down Niagara's steep, Or calm behold them in transparent sleep, Where the blue hills of old Toronto shed Their evening shadows o'er Ontario's bed; Should trace the grand Cadaraqui, and glide Down the white rapids of his lordly tide, Through massy woods, 'mid islets flowering fair, And blooming glades, where the first sinful pair For consolation might have weeping trod, When banished from the garden of their God. Oh, Lady ! these are miracles, which man, Cag'd in the bounds of Europe's pigmy span, Can scarcely dream of, — which his eye must see To know how wonderful this world can be !

" Moore — Letters to Lady Charlotte Rawdon. It was on a lovely October evening, not many years ago, that I was one of a joyous party encamped on Fire Island, amidst the bright waters of the river Saint Lawrence, in North America. We were bound for the western prairies, iu search of the wild sport which those extensive solitudes furnish so abundantly to all who have opportunity to explore their mys teries. It is true that we were nearly a month behind the proper time; but several causes had com bined to delay our departure, not tbe least of which B was the strong desire that possessed us all to see the Lake of the Thousand Islands in that most gorgeous season w*hen the decaying forest -foliage shrouds itself in splendid colours, and dies, like the dolphin, in the pride and glory of its beauty.1 1 Many eloquent writers have recorded the astonishing mag nificence of the American Forest when the autumn frosts have painted it with marvellous colours ; but none have surpassed the following glowing account from the brilliant pen of the Times* Special Correspondent: — " The late, and always continuous, rains had hastened the advance of autumn.

Already the evenings were very chill, and a light frost rested on the ground at night, leaving a trace in glowing colours on the forests, which deepened day by day. The full rich green of Canadian woodland was altering hourly, the maple had donned its brightest scarlet, and the swamp ash seemed wreathed with gold. Every leaf and shrub was changing, a mass of the richest colours spread out on all the hills, and the trees 3eemed to revel in glorious tints before the tremendous frost of the Canadian winter hid them in ice and snow for a long six months. What in England is called autumn is in Canada called the ' fall,' and the terms are characteristic. There is no ' fall ' in England, only a long decay of summer, when the sun shines with a cold sickly gleam, and the withered leaves, all brown and shrivelled, rustle down day by day, as the winter winds rise.

It is, in fact, rather a period of the year which we call autumn, because it is only not winter by courtesy, when the nights are long, damp, and foggy, the mornings crisp with a misty frost, and the sun only comes at long intervals to apologise for the general absence of daylight. In North America there is nothing of all this. The summer there never tries to struggle through long wintry days, perishing leaf by leaf. Like the black swan, that is said only to sing before it dies, the woods and fields are most glorious when most near decay, and ripen into such masses of scarlet and gold, such pinks and soft rich browns, streaked here and there, amid the deep green lofty pines, that the forests become pictures of unutterable beauty, and you feel as you gaze upon the scene that Providence has in its goodness, and as if in Fire Island had been selected as the rendezvous for our party, because the tedious canal-navigation of the Saint Lawrence ended a few miles below, and most of us preferred the rapid pace of the mail steamers to the snail-like progress of the little compensation, made the gradual approach of a tremendous winter more lovely than even the most glowing spring.

For two or three short weeks the woods and mountains remain thus in piles of gorgeous colour, like sunset clouds. During this, the ' Indian summer ' as it is called, the air is mild, calm, and still, with a solemnity of quiet as if nature knew the impending change, and the very woods listen in every leaf for the coming of their great foe. At last it comes, in one keen, angry night of freezing cold, stopping great rivers and fierce rapids as though it struck them dead, and covering the hills and valleys with that ghastly shroud of snow under which all North America lies torpid for half the year. Then comes ' the fall.' In four-and-twenty hours after, the leaves of thousands of miles of forest are on the ground in patches of reds and yellows, which the snow makes haste to cover in massive drifts, as if it rejoiced in its long-disputed victory, and tyrannised over the woods it had at last subdued." — Wood's The Prince of Wales in Canada.

Mr. Gosse says, " In examining the details of this mass of glow ing colour, I have found that by far the greatest proportion is pro duced by the sugar-maple, and other species of the same genus. The leaves of these display all shades of red, from deepest crimson to bright orange, which, generally occurring in large masses, not in individual detached leaves, prevents anything tawdry or little in the effect ; on the contrary, when the still beams of the sunshine on them, the warm and glowing colours possess a great deal of grandeur. The poplar leaves often assume a crimson hue ; the elm, a bright and golden yellow ; birch and beech, a pale, sober, yellow-ochre ; ash and basswood, different shades of brown ; the tamarack, a buff-yellow. The beech, the ash, and the tamarack do not, in general, bear much part in this glittering pageant ; the ash is mostly leafless at the time, and the glory has passed away before the other two have scarcely begun to fade.

Indeed, the glossy green of the beech is perhaps more effective than if it "tug," which towed our yacht through the chain of canals that stretches between Montreal and Prescott.1 The season and climate were so wonderfully charming, although the nights were almost cold, that we, by common consent, eschewed an indoor partook of the general change ; and even the gloomy blackness of the resinous trees, by relieving and throwing forward the gayer tints, is not without effect." — Gosse's Romance of Natural History. 1 These canals are unavoidable, as no vessel can go up the rapids ; though, notwithstanding the assertion contained in the following note, — which is the best I can find upon the subject, — large steamers daily " run " the whole series during their down ward trips : — "The statements laid before Parliament thus enumerate and describe the five rapids of the Saint Lawrence, which are im passable by steam, and occur between Montreal and Kingston, a distance, by the St. Lawrence river, of 171 miles, and by the Rideau Canal of 267 miles.

The rapids vary in rapidity, intri cacy, depth and width of channel, and in extent, from half a mile to nine miles. The Cedar Rapid, twenty-four miles from Lachine, is nine miles long, very intricate, running from nine to twelve miles an hour, and in some places only from nine to ten feet water in the channel. The Coteau du Lac Rapid, six miles above the former, is two miles long, equally intricate in channel, and in some places only sixteen feet wide. Long Sault, forty-five miles above the preceding, is nine or ten miles long, with generally the same depth of water throughout. It is intersected by several islands, through whose channels the water rushes with great velocity, so that boats are carried through it, or on it, at the rate of twenty-seven miles an hour ; at the foot of the rapid the water takes a sudden leap over a slight precipice, whence its name.

From the Long Sault to Prescott is forty-one miles shoal water, running from six to eight miles an hour, and impassable by steam boats. Then the Rapid du Plas, half a mile long, and Rapid Galoose, one and a half mile long, intervene." — Note to War buhton's Conquest of Canada. residence,1 and encamped upon the island I have mentioned, within a dozen yards of a tiny bay, where our lovely little yacht, the " Silver Star," of two aud-twenty tons, rode safely at her anchor. The island was covered with a short, soft grass, and a sprinkling of forest-trees, that added much to its beauty and seclusion; for, although the surrounding woods had begun to assume " The soft hues That stain the wild bird's wing and flush the clouds When the sun sets," not a leaf had yet fallen, and the foliage was as dense aud close as ever.

The last of our party had arrived upon the day I mention, and ere the sunlight had given place to evening, we were all collected round a huge camp fire, wdiich lit up the surrounding forest for a con siderable distance with a lurid aud unearthly red. As night approached, however, the dimensions of the blaze grew less and less, and the woods around us became gradually enveloped in almost total gloom, 1 " It has been said, that the love of the chase is an inherent delight in man — a relic of an instinctive passion. If so, 1 am sure the pleasure of living in the open air, with the sky for a roof and the ground for a table, is part of the same feeling: it is the savage returning to his wild and native habits. I always look back to our boat-cruises, and my land journeys, when through unfrequented countries, with an extreme delight, which no scenes of civilisation could have created.

I do not doubt that every traveller must remember the glowing sense of happiness which he experienced, when he first breathed in a foreign clime, where the civilised man had seldom or never trod."— Darwin's Voyage of a Naturalist. despite the myriads of bright stars above, so that we all began to think of retiring to the shelter of our snowy tent, when suddenly the magnificent harvest moon made her appearance above the horizon, and shed such a flood of lustrous glory upon the sleeping woods and waters, that we were almost spell-bound at the unexpected and enchanting beauty of a scene, lovely at all times, but now presented to us under a new and most bewitching aspect. The autumn moon slept bright and still On fading wood and purple hill, * * * * * And silence o'er each green recess Brooded in misty sultriness."

There was literally not a breath of wind, the river was like a mirror, and the trees as moveless as if they were cut out of solid bronze. Not a vestige of humanity was visible, and not a living thing of any kind, excepting the admiring group collected round the camp-fire. Our followers had long before retired to rest, but the night proved so beautiful, that we relinquished our intention of "turning in" so soon, and for some hours afterwards five figures maintained their posi tions within the circle of red light cast by the blazing pile of logs which Charley Clifford, the youngest of our party, had replenished from a heap near by. Reclining in every variety of attitude that accident or comfort could suggest, these figures gave life and animation to a strange, wild scene, that would have furnished no unworthy subject even for the pencil of Salvator Rosa.

With his back against a huge prostrate tree trunk, and his eyes fixed upon the flickering blaze, lay William Arnold, the owner of the " Silver Star," and the acknowledged captain and leader of our expeditiou. He was over six feet iu height, with a frame in proportion to his length, with blue eyes, a large and intellectual-looking forehead, round which his light brown hair grew in thin soft curls, and a figure straight as the tapering mast of his own fairy schooner. High-souled, generous, and chivalrous, and endowed with mental powers of no common order, he was the very beau ideal of a man and a gentleman. Beside him, seated on the same tree-trunk, was our worthy medico, Archy Macfarlane, a short, stout, plethoric-looking Celt, whose round, ruddy face beamed with benevolence and good humour, beneath an unkempt mass of yellow hair.

" The Doctor " had served for a good many years in India, but he had neither forgotten his native accent, nor how to tie a " ripping " salmon fly. On the other side of the fire lay, stretched at full length upon the grass, with a cigar between his teeth, a wild, reckless son of Erin, Captain Matthew Blake, a slight, wiry man, of average height, with blue eyes and dark brown hair. The owner of a kind heart, and a temper as variable and uncertain as an April morning, his companionship was at once a pleasure and a nuisance, for, though universally liked on account of the real generosity of his disposition, the frequent ebullitions of wrath which he gave way to, considerably damped the enjoyment of the expedition for the time, and made his best friends uncomfortable. Next came the youngest of our party, Ensign Charles Clifford, a slight, handsome lad, with dark eyes and hair, five feet five inches in height, and about seventeen years of age, — " A very boy, on whose unshaded cheek The spring-time glow was lingering."

His youth and amiable character rendered him a general favourite, and we would not have thought of starting without Charley Clifford. Last of the group was the writer of this sketch, Harry Greenwood, whose picture, gentle reader, you must e'en paint for yourself, as fancy prompts you. -if -If •?(• «J* " Greenwood," said Macfarlane, "you have been in these parts before ; do you know anything about the fishing ?" " A good deal," I answered ; " many a fine black bass have I captured amongst this group of islands ; but not with the fly, doctor, so my information will not be of much use to you." " I don't know that," responded the medico. " It is true, I never use anything else but the fly myself; nevertheless, I should like to hear something of your experience, particularly in the Lake of the Thousand Islands, if your wanderings ever took you so far."

" Yes, I once made an expedition to that region," I answered, " and had some excellent sport ; I could tell you the whole story, but it is rather long." " The longer the better, perhaps,'' said Arnold, " so, like a good fellow, spin us the yarn before we turn in." " All right," I replied, " you shall have it will ingly ; Charley, will you hand me that book with the lock on it ? It contains my notes made when I was first here, at the time I was admitted a member of the St. Hubert's Club." ' Young Clifford brought me the volume, seated himself beside me, and I began. 1 Saint Hubert's Club is, I believe, from the limited number of its members, quite unknown to the public ; it was organised somewhere about 1845, and still exists in Canada, where it was first established.

Chapter II. Our Trip To The Thousand Islands

" Morning is brightening with golden smiles The beautiful ' Lake of the Thousand Isles.' Scattered all over the green flood, lie Islands profuse as the stars in the sky ; Here, scarce yielding a few trees room, There, bearing upward a forest of gloom, Breaking the wave, now, in broad expanses, That flashed out like steel in the morning's glances, And now into vistas whose either side Darkened with intermixed shadows the tide." A. B. Street — Frontenac. Some years since I was stationed at Prescott, where I fell in with the renowned Tom Glenlyon, one of the most famous members of the famous Saint Hubert's Club. Glenlyon had been a soldier in his youth, and had passed unscathed through the fire of Waterloo, after which the reduction of the army, consequeut upon the peace of 1815, had placed him, with many others, most unwillingly, upon half-pay.1 1 The gallant President of Saint Hubert's Club is one of the few remaining veterans of Wellington's glorious army.

At the time I speak of he was still straight as a mountain-pine ; the best shot and best walker of my acquaintance ; a bold and vigorous man, a staunch and steadfast friend. There was China, too, — the jovial and romantic Cinna, — a thorough sports man, alike on land or water, and a poet of no mean order. With these two choice spirits I became very intimate, and, eventually, was initiated into the mysteries of their Order of Saint Hubert, beneath the spreading boughs of green Glenkilburn, then the head-quarters of those who had sworn allegiance to the hunter-saint. Another of that sporting brotherhood, whom I subsequently met, has also a kindly place in my remembrance, — a quiet, sterling fellow, who said little but did much ; well known as " the Mitigo " amongst his sporting friends. What glorious days and nights I have spent with those merry hunters, in the dark old woods of sweet Glenkilburn, or by the bright camp-fires of the Ourana ! 1 It was early in the month of June, during one of the happy years of my Prescott soldiering, that Glenlyon and I arranged for a fishing expedition to the Lake of the Thousand Islands, — that romantic sheet of water, so celebrated for the beauty of its forest-scenery.2 Glenlyon had procured a small 1 Glenkilburn is the name of a forest near Prescott, Canada West, where the Saint Hubert's Club had a shooting-lodge ; and Ourana is the Indian appellation for a large island in the Saint Lawrence. 2 " The channel of the Saint Lawrence is here so spacious that it is called the Lake of the Thousand Islands.

The vast number vessel of about seven tons burden, which erstwhile had done duty as a ferry-boat between Prescott and Ogdensburgh. She was rather a tub-shaped little craft, but strong and roomy, and carried one mast with a jib and mainsail. It took us about two days to lay in stores for the trip, and, on the morning of the 9th June, we were all ready for a start. Fisher — one of the subordinate members of " the Club," and my faithful henchman in those days — was to accompany us, and Frank Woodford, another Saint Hubert's man, had been promised a passage on board our vessel as far as Brockville. About ten o'clock in the forenoon a light easterly breeze filled the sails of the " Snapping Turtle," and away we went, slowly enough against the strong current of the river. The day was particularly fine, and we in unusually good spirits, so, as you may suppose, we enjoyed our sail immensely.

Towards evening the wind, which had been very light throughout the day, almost entirely left us, and we were compelled to have recourse to a pair of implied in this name was considered a vague exaggeration, till the commissioners employed in fixing the boundary with the United States actually counted them, and found that they amounted to 1692. They are of every imaginable size, shape, and appearance; some barely visible, others covering fifteen acres, but in general their broken outline presents the most picturesque combinations of wood and rock. The navigator, in steering through them, sees an ever-changing scene; sometimes he is inclosed in a narrow channel, then he discovers before him twelve openings, like so many noble rivers, and soon after a spacious lake seems to surround him on every side."— Bouchette, quoted in Warbur ton's Conquest of Canada. sweeps, by the aid of which we managed to make good progress.

"Come, Woodford, spin us a yarn," said I, "for if you don't we will land you upon some desert island, aud leave you to perish with hunger, as a warning to all future refractory travellers." But our friend was obstinate, and declined doing anything of the sort. We got the yarn out of him afterwards, however, iu this wise. Glenlyon and I were conversing about fishing, when I turned to Woodford and asked, " What flies do you think are best for this river ?" "Well," replied that worthy, "I have not fished it often enough to answer that comprehensive question satisfactorily ; however, I think those I tied for you the other day will suit your purpose tolerably well. By the bye, talking of fishing," continued he, " I once made a rather singular capture on the banks of the Petite Nation River. I was encamped in the neighbourhood with a small party, on a surveying expedition, and we had run rather short of fresh provisions, so, one morning, I cut myself a fishing rod, and started off to see if I could not catch some trout for breakfast.

I had my casting-line with me, but not a single fly, or even materials for making one, so I pounced upon the first grasshopper I met with, and having found a promising-looking pool at the foot of a steep part of the bank, I dropped the bait gently on to the surface of the water. A large tree projected slightly over the top of the bank, so that I was enabled to scramble out upon it, and send my line clear of the alders and other bushes that covered the whole bank very thickly. After a moment or two my thoughts went wandering some where else, and I quite forgot all about my line and grasshopper, until I was reminded of the existence of both by a sharp tug, which nearly jerked the rod out of my hand. By Jove, thought I, I have got a big fish ! And the next instant I began to consider how I should manage to kill him.

Fortunately I had my strong tackle, so that I did not fear the result much. I kept the line taut, and peered over into the water to have a look at the fish, which now commenced to tug and jerk away at the hook in a manner quite new to me, w*hile, at the same time, I heard an awful fluttering in the bushes down below. My curiosity was very much excited, and I really wondered what sort of a creature I had got on the end of my line, and what was the cause of the continual rustling amongst the alders. Fancy my astonishment when I discovered that my fish was on land in place of in the water, and that, in point of fact, I had hooked a fine ruffed grouse1 instead of a trout. I soon forced my way down to him, and transferred him to my pocket, having, in the most cold-blooded manner, first cut his throat with my penknife.

But here we are at Brockville, and so, if you will put me ashore, I will say good-bye for the present." We ran alongside of Grant Island, moored our ship, and Frank Woodford then left us. Brockville, an exceedingly pretty English-lookiug town, is about fourteen miles from Prescott, and Grant Island is a large rock about fifty yards from 1 Tctrao Umbellus. the mainland, upon which there used to be, and may be still, for aught I know to the contrary, a block house, garrisoned by a sergeant and ten men of the Royal Canadian Rifles. The moment w*e arrived, curious strangers from the town pushed off to have a look at us, and presently we were surrounded by little boats. The occupants were not much rewarded for their trouble, however, as they only saw three men in red-flannel shirts and grey trousers, busily eating their suppers iu the stern-sheets of the " Snapping Turtle."

We had a stove on board, which enabled us to cook without landing, and subsequently, when we en camped, we removed it to the shore, and found it very useful. After supper Glenlyon and I went up to the town, and when we returned, about ten o'clock, we found that Sergeant Hillhouse had got our tent pitched upon the island, and had furnished it with beds and a table, in the most luxurious manner, so that we were actually more comfortable than if we had gone up to a hotel. The banks of the Saint Lawrence, for the first ten miles between Prescott and Brockville, are for the most part tame and devoid of beauty, but as we approached the latter place, they assumed a bolder and more picturesque appearance, while the wooded islets, which began to show themselves, relieved the monotony of the river itself.

At Brockville, the Thousand Islands may be said to commence, for they stretch thence almost as far as Kingston, in greater or lesser numbers. Next morning we were up with the dawn, and away before a spanking breeze, w*hich swept us along, even against the current, at a slashing pace : indeed, the wind was rather too strong, so we ran in shore as soon as possible, and double-reefed the mainsail, after which the " Snapping Turtle " had still as much canvas as she could carry comfortably. We should have shortened sail long before, but unluckily we had got between two huge barges, which we could not pass, and the channel was so narrow that it was necessary to keep the vessel under way, to prevent her either running against, or beiug run into by, one of them. After a time, how ever, a heavier puff than usual carried them ahead of us, and we seized the opportunity to escape and sret under lee of the land at once.

After leaving Brockville the scenery became every moment more and more charming ; we were surrounded by forest -clad islands in all their summer splendour; aud as we dashed through the clear waters of the magnificent river, I thought I had never beheld anything more beautiful than the picture it presented, lit up by the cloudless sun of a Canadian June. After reducing the sail considerably, we still spun along at a rapid pace, and early in the after noon arrived off Windermere, where we anchored in a little bay. Windermere is, as nearly as I can guess, between twenty and thirty miles from Brockville : it is not a lake, as its name would seem to import, but a farm, to which is attached a mill for the manufacture of staves for casks aud barrels, the wheel being turned by a creek1 of dark-looking water.