the　baying　of　fierce　hounds　and　the　〃ping〃　of　the　rifle。
  Hunting　the　deer　in　the　Adirondacks　is　conducted　in　the　most　manly　fashion。　　There　are　several　methods；　and　in　none　of　them　is　a　fair　chance　to　the　deer　considered。　　A　favorite　method　with　the　natives　is　practiced　in　winter；　and　is　called　by　them　〃still　hunting。〃　　My　idea　of　still　hunting　is　for　one　man　to　go　alone　into　the　forest；　look　about　for　a　deer；　put　his　wits　fairly　against　the　wits　of　the　keen…　scented　animal；　and　kill　his　deer；　or　get　lost　in　the　attempt。　　There　seems　to　be　a　sort　of　fairness　about　this。　　It　is　private　assassination；　tempered　with　a　little　uncertainty　about　finding　your　man。　　The　still　hunting　of　the　natives　has　all　the　romance　and　danger　attending　the　slaughter　of　sheep　in　an　abattoir。　　As　the　snow　gets　deep；　many　deer　congregate　in　the　depths　of　the　forest；　and　keep　a　place　trodden　down；　which　grows　larger　as　they　tramp　down　the　snow　in　search　of　food。　　In　time　this　refuge　becomes　a　sort　of　〃yard；〃　surrounded　by　unbroken　snow…banks。　　The　hunters　then　make　their　way　to　this　retreat　on　snowshoes；　and　from　the　top　of　the　banks　pick　off　the　deer　at　leisure　with　their　rifles；　and　haul　them　away　to　market；　until　the　enclosure　is　pretty　much　emptied。　　This　is　one　of　the　surest　methods　of　exterminating　the　deer；　it　is　also　one　of　the　most　merciful；　and；　being　the　plan　adopted　by　our　government　for　civilizing　the　Indian；　it　ought　to　be　popular。　　The　only　people　who　object　to　it　are　the　summer　sportsmen。　　They　naturally　want　some　pleasure　out　of　the　death　of　the　deer。
  Some　of　our　best　sportsmen；　who　desire　to　protract　the　pleasure　of　slaying　deer　through　as　many　seasons　as　possible；　object　to　the　practice　of　the　hunters；　who　make　it　their　chief　business　to　slaughter　as　many　deer　in　a　camping　season　as　they　can。　　Their　own　rule；　they　say；　is　to　kill　a　deer　only　when　they　need　venison　to　eat。　Their　excuse　is　specious。　　What　right　have　these　sophists　to　put　themselves　into　a　desert　place；　out　of　the　reach　of　provisions；　and　then　ground　a　right　to　slay　deer　on　their　own　improvidence？　　If　it　is　necessary　for　these　people　to　have　anything　to　eat；　which　I　doubt；　it　is　not　necessary　that　they　should　have　the　luxury　of　venison。
  One　of　the　most　picturesque　methods　of　hunting　the　poor　deer　is　called　〃　floating。〃　The　person；　with　murder　in　his　heart；　chooses　a　cloudy　night；　seats　himself；　rifle　in　hand；　in　a　canoe；　which　is　noiselessly　paddled　by　the　guide；　and　explores　the　shore　of　the　lake　or　the　dark　inlet。　　In　the　bow　of　the　boat　is　a　light　in　a　〃jack；〃　the　rays　of　which　are　shielded　from　the　boat　and　its　occupants。　　A　deer　comes　down　to　feed　upon　the　lily…pads。　　The　boat　approaches　him。　He　looks　up；　and　stands　a　moment；　terrified　or　fascinated　by　the　bright　flames。　　In　that　moment　the　sportsman　is　supposed　to　shoot　the　deer。　　As　an　historical　fact；　his　hand　usually　shakes　so　that　he　misses　the　animal；　or　only　wounds　him；　and　the　stag　limps　away　to　die　after　days　of　suffering。　　Usually；　however；　the　hunters　remain　out　all　night；　get　stiff　from　cold　and　the　cramped　position　in　the　boat；　and；　when　they　return　in　the　morning　to　camp；　cloud　their　future　existence　by　the　assertion　that　they　〃heard　a　big　buck〃　moving　along　the　shore；　but　the　people　in　camp　made　so　much　noise　that　he　was　frightened　off。
  By　all　odds；　the　favorite　and　prevalent　mode　is　hunting　with　dogs。　The　dogs　do　the　hunting；　the　men　the　killing。　　The　hounds　are　sent　into　the　forest　to　rouse　the　deer；　and　drive　him　from　his　cover。　They　climb　the　mountains；　strike　the　trails；　and　go　baying　and　yelping　on　the　track　of　the　poor　beast。　　The　deer　have　their　established　runways；　as　I　said；　and；　when　they　are　disturbed　in　their　retreat；　they　are　certain　to　attempt　to　escape　by　following　one　which　invariably　leads　to　some　lake　or　stream。　　All　that　the　hunter　has　to　do　is　to　seat　himself　by　one　of　these　runways；　or　sit　in　a　boat　on　the　lake；　and　wait　the　coming　of　the　pursued　deer。　　The　frightened　beast；　fleeing　from　the　unreasoning　brutality　of　the　hounds；　will　often　seek　the　open　country；　with　a　mistaken　confidence　in　the　humanity　of　man。　　To　kill　a　deer　when　he　suddenly　passes　one　on　a　runway　demands　presence　of　mind　and　quickness　of　aim：　to　shoot　him　from　the　boat；　after　he　has　plunged　panting　into　the　lake；　requires　the　rare　ability　to　hit　a　moving　object　the　size　of　a　deer's　head　a　few　rods　distant。　　Either　exploit　is　sufficient　to　make　a　hero　of　a　common　man。　　To　paddle　up　to　the　swimming　deer；　and　cut　his　throat；　is　a　sure　means　of　getting　venison；　and　has　its　charms　for　some。　Even　women　and　doctors　of　divinity　have　enjoyed　this　exquisite　pleasure。　　It　cannot　be　denied　that　we　are　so　constituted　by　a　wise　Creator　as　to　feel　a　delight　in　killing　a　wild　animal　which　we　do　not　experience　in　killing　a　tame　one。
  The　pleasurable　excitement　of　a　deer…hunt　has　never；　I　believe；　been　regarded　from　the　deer's　point　of　view。　　I　happen　to　be　in　a　position；　by　reason　of　a　lucky　Adirondack　experience；　to　present　it　in　that　light。　　I　am　sorry　if　this　introduction　to　my　little　story　has　seemed　long　to　the　reader：　it　is　too　late　now　to　skip　it；　but　he　can　recoup　himself　by　omitting　the　story。
  Early　on　the　morning　of　the　23d　of　August；　1877；　a　doe　was　feeding　on　Basin　Mountain。　　The　night　had　been　warm　and　showery；　and　the　morning　opened　in　an　undecided　way。　　The　wind　was　southerly：　it　is　what　the　deer　call　a　dog…wind；　having　come　to　know　quite　well　the　meaning　of　〃a　southerly　wind　and　a　cloudy　sky。〃　　The　sole　companion　of　the　doe　was　her　only　child；　a　charming　little　fawn；　whose　brown　coat　was　just　beginning　to　be　mottled　with　the　beautiful　spots　which　make　this　young　creature　as　lovely　as　the　gazelle。　　The　buck；　its　father；　had　been　that　night　on　a　long　tramp　across　the　mountain　to　Clear　Pond；　and　had　not　yet　returned：　he　went　ostensibly　to　feed　on　the　succulent　lily…pads　there。　　〃He　feedeth　among　the　lilies　until　the　day　break　and　the　shadows　flee　away；　and　he　should　be　here　by　this　hour；　but　he　cometh　not；〃　she　said；　〃leaping　upon　the　mountains；　skipping　upon　the　hills。〃　　Clear　Pond　was　too　far　off　for　the　young　mother　to　go　with　her　fawn　for　a　night's　pleasure。　　It　was　a　fashionable　watering…place　at　this　season　among　the　deer；　and　the　doe　may　have　remembered；　not　without　uneasiness；　the　moonlight　meetings　of　a　frivolous　society　there。　　But　the　buck　did　not　come：　he　was　very　likely　sleeping　under　one　of　the　ledges　on　Tight　Nippin。　　Was　he　alone？　　〃I　charge　you；　by　the　roes　and　by　the　hinds　of　the　field；　that　ye　stir　not　nor　awake　my　love　till　he　please。〃
  The　doe　was　feeding；　daintily　cropping　the　tender　leaves　of　the　young　shoots；　and　turning　from　time　to　time　to　regard　her　offspring。　　The　fawn　had　taken　his　morning　meal；　and　now　lay　curled　up　on　a　bed　of　moss；　watching　contentedly；　with　his　large；　soft　brown　eyes；　every　movement　of　his　mother。　　The　great　eyes　followed　her　with　an　alert　entreaty；　and；　if　the　mother　stepped　a　pace　or　two　farther　away　in　feeding；　the　fawn　made　a　half　movement；　as　if　to　rise　and　follow　her。　You　see；　she　was　his　sole　dependence　in　all　the　world。　　But　he　was　quickly　reassured　when　she　turned　her　gaze　on　him；　and　if；　in　alarm；　he　uttered　a　plaintive　cry；　she　bounded　to　him　at　once；　and；　with　every　demonstration　of　affection；　licked　his　mottled　skin　till　it　shone　again。
  It　was　a　pretty　picture；maternal　love　on　the　one　part；　and　happy　trust　on　the　other。　　The　doe　was　a　beauty；　and　would　have　been　so　considered　anywhere；　as　graceful　and　winning　a　creature　as　the　sun　that　day　shone　on；slender　limbs；　not　too　heavy　flanks；　round　body；　and　aristocratic　head；　with　small　ears；　and　luminous；　intelligent；　affectionate　eyes。　　How　alert；　supple；　free；　she　was！　　What　untaught　grace　in　every　movement！　　What　a　charming　pose　when　she　lifted　her　head；　and　turned　it　to　regard　her　child！　　You　would　have　had　a　companion　picture　if　you　had　seen；　as　I　saw　that　morning；　a　baby　kicking　about　among　the　dry　pine…needles　on　a　ledge　above　the　Au　Sable；　in　the　valley　below；　while　its　young　mother　sat　near；　with　an　easel　before　her；　touching　in　the　color　of　a　reluctant　landscape；　giving　a　quick　look　at　the　sky　and　the　outline　of　the　Twin　Mountains；　and　bestowing　every　third　glance　upon　the　laughing　boy；art　in　its　infancy。
  The　doe　lifted　her　head　a　little　with　a　quick　motion；　and　turned　her　ear　to　the　south。　　Had　she　heard　something？　Probably　it　was　only　the　south　wind　in　the　balsams。　　There　was　silence　all　about　in　the　forest。　　If　the　doe　had　heard　anything；　it　was　one　of　the　distant　noises　of　the　world。　　There　are　in　the　woods　occasional　moanings；　premonitions　of　change；　which　are　inaudible　to　the　dull　ears　of　men；　but　which；　I　have　no　doubt；　the　forest…folk　hear　and　understand。　　If　the　doe's　suspicions　were　excited　for　an　instant；　they　were　gone　as　soon。　　With　an　affectionate　glance　at　her　fawn；　she　continued　picking　up　her　breakfast。
  But　suddenly　she　started；　head　erect；　eyes　dilated；　a　tremor　in　her　limbs。　　She　took　a　step；　she　turned　her　head　to　the　south；　she　listened　intently。　　There　was　a　sound；a　distant；　prolonged　note；　bell…toned；　pervading　the　woods；　shaking　the　air　in　smooth　vibrations。　　It　was　repeated。　　The　doe　had　no　doubt　now。　　She　shook　like　the　sensitive　mimosa　when　a　footstep　app