Follies of Oldtime Snipe Hunting in the 1870s

Snipe Hunting at Rocklin. — We have been furnished the particulars of an extraordinary snipe hunt at Rocklin in which a man prominently connected with the railroad office at that place, whom we will designate as "Stevey," played a prominent part. It appears that two or three of the amateur sportsmen of the town informed Stevey in a confidential way on Tuesday that they had found an excellent place for snipe, and confided to him what they represented to be the modus operandi of old hunters when they sought to capture a number of the birds, viz: to go out at night — darker the night the better — with a gunny sack, which, on arriving on the ground to be hunted, one of the party would hold open, after having a light conveniently placed to serve as an attraction for the game, which, on being aroused by the other members of the party, would run to the light as a moth to a candle, and directly into the sack! Stevey swallowed it all. It was agreed that the party should go out Tuesday night to try this system of hunting, and go they did. Arrived at the spot where the snipe were represented to be, the other members of the party kindly agreed that Stevey might have the easiest portion of the work — he should hold the sack while they trudged round and scared up the birds. Accordingly Stevey was placed in position and warned to exercise due watchfulness, as there was no knowing when the game would come it might be in a few minutes and it might not be for half an hour! The balance or the hunters then left him, and after going a short distance, ostensibly hunting, they returned to town, leaving Stevey, solitary and alone, watching for the snipe! He was faithful to his trust, and kept the light burning for about two hours, when, finding that the sport was inclined to be monotonous, he returned to town, where the broad smile with which he was greeted on all sides convinced him, if he had not felt any intimations of it before, that he had been badly sold. When his friends ask him now "How are you, Snipey?" he feels that they are making game of him.

Issued March 17, 1870. Sacramento Daily Union 38(5919): 3.

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A Western Joke. — The Peoria Transcript tells this joke on one of the denizens of that place: two gentlemen recently went across the river, several miles, hunting snipe. One of them understood the business; the other did not, having only "herd tell or it," and dreamed about it. The man who was posted told the other that lie must take a bag, hold its month open, and stand quietly until the birds Hew into the bag, as they surely would do. So the uninitiated chap took his post to wait for the coming of the birds, while the other went into the woods to scare them towards the man with the bag. Instead of attempting to scare up any birds he walked leisurely back to the city and went to bed. The victimized individual came back about one o'clock at night, complaining that he had not caught a bird, and that his companion in hunting had been lost. When the story came out somebody was mad, but had to treat, nevertheless.

January 3, 1873. Portland New Northwest 2(34): 1.

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The Snipe Catchers.

By Ed Eggleston, in Youth’s Companion.

The huge red brick building on the top of the hill was the County seminary. Everybody thought the location appropriate, because the building looked like the Temple of Fame on the Hill of Science in the frontisspiece to the spelling book.

When the seminary was opened the boys and girls from New Geneva had to climb a steep hillside three hundred feet up; and as the county boys and girls who attended it boarded in town, the school was like Jefferson's windmill built to saw timber on a mountain where it was sure to catch the wind from every quarter, but where there was not a stick of timber to be sawed.

And so it happens now that you may see the deserted red brick temple of education, standing desolate, without doors or windows, a monument to the stubbornness and wisdom of three grave county commissioners, about whom I have neither the time nor the inclination to write.

But for a year or two the seminary flourished, and during that time it was that the town boys taught some of the county boys how to catch snipes. One of these boys was familiarly known as Jack Thomson. The first day that he appeared in school he was asked his name.

"John Thomson, Judge Thomson's son." he replied.

The boys laughed at this. Judge Thomson had held the indifferent office of Associate Judge, and this parade of his father's title gave him the sobriquet of "Judge Thomson's son." He was a pompous boaster, also, and so came in for the title "Pompey Smash No. 3," two other boys having borne the title of Pompey Smash before him.

It was natural that the boys should hit upon Jack Thomson when they went "snipe hunting." They wanted a victim, and Pompey Smash No. 3 was just the sort of victim they wished for.

"Did you ever hunt snipes, Jack?"

"Many a time," says he. "I don't believe there's a feller in this county can beat me at that."

And Thomson drew his great strapping form up to its full height. He was full twenty years of age, and looked down upon boys of eighteen.

"No, but did you ever catch snipes with a bag," asked one of the other boys.

"Many a time," said lying Jack, though he could not for the life of him tell how snipes were caught in a bag.

But he readily accepted an invitation to go on a bag hunt for snipes that very night.

I must inform those of my readers who have never had the felicity of hunting snipes with a bag, that midnight is the true time for starting. A snipe will not readily run into a bag before he has had his first nap nor after he has had it, either so it doesn't matter. But midnight was considered by the boys the appropriate hour.

All the boys agreed to this, and Pompey Smash insisted on it when he found that the rest were unanimous about it. He had never, in all his life, hunted snipes in a bag except at midnight, and he didn't think it good to start before.

So just at twelve o'clock the boys who were in the plot sallied forth. One of them carried the bag into which the snipes were to be driven. The beech woods, in the bottom land above town, was unanimously concluded to be the best place.

On the way the boys pretended to dispute about which should hold the bag as though that were the post of honor. Each one insisted on his experience in the matter. But Jack declared that he knew better than any of them. He had always held the bag!

So the rest, affecting a flattering confidence in Jack's skill, agreed that he was pre-eminently the one to hold the bag. And Jack modestly agreed with them. So he stood by the water's edge and held open the mouth of the bag while his companions hastened off to wake up the sleepy snipes, and drive the confiding things straight into the open trap. Of course they went straight home and went to bed, and hunted snipes in the land of dreams, where one is quite as likely to catch them in a bag as any other way.

How long the expectant Jack stood there out the margin of the Ohio, listening to hooting owls and looking for snipes, will never be known. He did not appear in school the next morning, but departed for home, and Judge Thomson wrote an indignant letter to the Weekly Palladium. After that he threw all his influence against the levying of any more taxes for the benefit of County Seminary.

Nobody had much sympathy for Jack. It is one great evil of boasting that it loses the boaster all sympathy, even when he deserves it.

There was, however, one young fellow in the school who disapproved of such practical jokes, and who said so. Tom Graves had an old-fashioned notion that lying was not gentlemanly, and he said the snipe business was a lie. He said that getting fun at somebody else's expense was not much better than getting anything else at the expense of another; in other words, it was stealing.

Tom drawled this out in his good natured way, and it was not until he had said it that all the boys began to perceive how severe it was.

One of them bristled up and said that Tom shouldn't call him a liar or a thief. But as Tom showed no signs of "backing down," his antagonist thought it would not improve matters for "him to give Tom who was a brawny farmer-boy a chance to whip him.

After a few days another country boy, extremely poor and humble, came to town to "do chores" for his board, and to attend the seminary on the hill. He did not know anything, but was exceedingly anxious to learn. A big boy of eighteen, in a state of sublime ignorance, was a fine subject for fun.

Tom Graves, however, kept the poor fellow under his care, and warned him of all tricks; and as the boys couldn't think of trying to whip two such fellows at the same time, Dick Blain went unmolested, except that he had to bear the nickname of "A-b-abs," because he was just beginning his education; and a still meaner one of" Cross-eyed Coon," on account of an ugly squint with which nature had endowed him.

One evening the boys found him apart from Tom Graves, and persuaded him to hunt snipes with a bag, which they told him was much the best way. Dick was pleased to find his schoolmates friendly, and readily assented. At midnight they all set off for the beech woods, and after much adroit discussion, and not a little objection on the part of Blain, he was persuaded to hold the bag while the rest should drive up the gentle snipes.

The boys left Dick with many cautions about holding the bag close to the water's edge, and about keeping very still. They assured him they would bring up the snipes within an hour.

Then they scattered, and reunited again shortly, and went sauntering homeward, stopping now and then to laugh at the thought of Dick's weary watch at the river.

When they entered the village they saw, sitting in the tavern door, a figure which they readily divined to be Wash Tomkins, the toper.

They resolved to stir him up, and have some additional sport. But what was there consternation, on coming up, find that it was none other than Dick Blain himself, who had run around reached the town ahead of them.

"Got the bag chock full," he said, "they came up, and I low’d ef I staid thar tell you fellers come up you'd claim all the snipe. So I tuck my bag snipes home, and come and sot down here to wait for you. You didn't fine none I s'pose liker'n not. I low'd you wouldn't. I jest whistled Dan Tucker, and they knowed the toon, and all on ‘em come right in."

The seminary boys never took a bag to catch snipes after that.

April 8, 1875. Highland Weekly News 38(52): 3.

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Snipe Hunting.

After the excitement or the day, a number of young gentlemen determined to spend last evening in the pleasures of a snipe hunt, and selecting their victim from among the numerous clerks or a popular Elm street establishment, proceeded beyond the Dallas branch, armed with the conventional bag and all the necessary paraphernalia. The victim was placed in position, and for two long weary hours he waited, with the mouth of the bag open, for the snipe that never come. Last night was a bad night for driving, and the young man had better try it again; but we're afraid he won't. A two hours lonely watch and a lonely two-mile walk, will probably cure him of nocturnal hunts in the future especially after snipe.

April 5, 1876. Dallas Daily Herald 4(45): 1.

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Snipe Hunt. — A suitable subject having been found the first snipe hunt of the season came off on Tuesday evening. The "subject" and about seven or eight "operators" betook themselves to the woods about a mile and a half from town. Subject and operators arrived in town about the same time no birds caught — operators had but little to say. Quid nuncs put in an oar; subject had been posted and operators given away.

December 26, 1879. Brenham Weekly Banner 14(52): 3.

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Ledger Lines

Last night a squad of dry good men visited Noncoonah bottom in order to initiate four of their number into the mysteries of snipe hunting. The would be hunters had shot snipe in "bold England," but never did, "you know," in this "blarsted" country. As one of them said to another, "It was a bloody good joke, my lad, but some fellahs don't like it, you know."

Snipe Hunting

Four New Disciples to This Rare and Ancient Sport

The old game of snipe hunting was perpetrated last night by four dry goods.

November 25, 1876. Memphis Public Ledger 23(74): 3.

Christmas Snipe Hunting Story

"I am so glad to see you, Henry, and so surprised, too; for you know you expected to remain in St. Louis till after Christmas. It has been awfully stupid here at Helena since you have been gone. There has not been a single party of any kind that I have heard of. I don't know what I should have done but for that conceited coxcomb, Raymond, who has been trying his very best to do the agreeable, and I must say amused me exceedingly."

"What, you don't mean that foppish New York drummer? Why, he is greener than cucumbers; if he were turned loose out in the meadows the cows would follow him. He comes down here to Arkansas selling Yankee notions and gimcracks, and struts about in his new store clothes as though he were a heap better than any fellow in the State. And so, Kate, he has been shining around you, has he?"

"Yes, but I only laugh at him; a lady must have company of some kind, you know, Henry. If none come along whom she can laugh with, she sometimes is content with one she can laugh at. This fine New York gentleman Mr. Augustus K. Raymond he calls himself has invited me to the grand party to be given by Mrs. Gordon on Christmas night."

"But you surely did not accept, Kate; why, I heard of this party, and hurried home from St. Louis before my business was half over, on purpose to ask you to go with me."

"I am extremely sorry, Mr. Morgan, that you should be so disappointed; but what was a poor girl to do? I wouldn't have missed going for the world, and how could I know that you would put yourself to so much inconvenience for my sake?"

"Now, Kate, this is cruel in you. Why do you call me Mr. Morgan, and adopt this lofty tone toward me ? We are old schoolmates and old friends, and — and I had flattered myself that we were very good friends. I had even ventured to hope that some day we might be still better friends. In fact — but I am making myself as great a fool as that fop of a notion peddler. My dear Kate, I scarcely know what I am saying. I only know that I love you devotedly, and that if you will give me the least assurance that you love me in return, I shall be the happiest fellow in Arkansas. Can you give me just one word of encouragement?"

"Yes," replied the roguish girl with provoking brevity, but a serious look immediately stole over her countenance, and after a few minutes of silence, while the young man ardently pressed her hand, she added, as her downcast eyes were raised again to meet his: "You knew all the while that you were the only one my gentlemen friends for whom I really cared anything."

"I was bold enough to think you preferred me, dear Kate, or I should never have been brave enough to declare myself. But what's to be done now about this Christmas party? That simpleton, Raymond shall not go with you if I have to run him out of town."

"Never fear, Henry. I will get rid of him in some way. He bored me terribly before. He would be insufferable now."

"I know how we can get rid of him Kate. We young fellows will get up a sniping party for Christmas eve, and make him hold the bag.

"Oh! that will be capital, said Kate, gayly. "That's just the thing; but there’s the bell now, and no doubt it is he himself. Just wait and see how nicely I shall dispose of him. You are to be my cousin, mind."

A card bearing the name of Augustus K. Raymond was handed in, followed a moment later by an over-dressed young gentleman with waxed moustache, hair parted in the middle, and the air generally of one who has got himself up to make a stunning impression."

"Good evening, Mr. Raymond. Permit me to introduce you to my cousin. Mr. Morgan."

"Delighted to have the pleasure of your acquaintance, sir. You reside in Helena, I suppose."

"I live here," replied Morgan, curtly.

"Ah, then, perhaps you are in the mercantile business. I have the honor to represent one of the leading notion houses" —

"No, I am not in the trade," interrupted Morgan, dryly.

"My cousin, explained the lady, is in the game business; and, apropos of game, he has just been telling me that he is going with a party of our young of our young gentlemen on a grand snipe hunt tomorrow evening Christmas eve."

"Yes," added Morgan, "and we should like to have you join us."

"Do go with them, Mr. Raymond. I do so want a snipe feather to wear in my hair at the party. They are all the rage with the girls now. Such beautiful feathers they are too! Long and drooping, with the richest red and yellow colors. You must go with them and get me a snipe feather, for I can't think of going to the party without one, and Cousin Henry here, even when he goes, is never smart enough to secure me a good feather. Somebody else always gets the privilege of holding the bag, and so secures the finest of the feathers."

"Certainly I'll go, with great pleasure. Miss Andrews, that is, if the gentlemen really desire that I should honor them with my company."

"Of course we'll feel greatly honored, Mr. Raymond," said Morgan, "if you will condescend to join us in one of our simple Western sports. I can even promise you the post of honor on the occasion."

"Really, you quite overwhelm me. I shall not fail to be with the party, if I can be of service! I am not familiar at all with — with — what did you call the game? — snipe; but if they possess such beautiful feathers as Miss Andrews describes, they must form a conspicuous mark, and no doubt I shall be able to bring at least one down at every shot. They call me a good marksman at the shooting galleries in New York. You may rely upon me, Mr. Morgan."

So saying, Mr. Raymond bowed himself out in an impressive manner, and had scarcely closed the hall door behind him when both the" others broke out in a paroxysm of laughter.

"That joke of yours, Kate, about the red and yellow leathers, was excellent. It couldn't have been better managed, I'll get the boys together to arrange for the hoax. By 10 o'clock to-morrow night your gallant greeny will be standing up to his knees in the mud and water, out in one of the creeks, holding the bag, and expecting that the rest of us win drive the snipe into it. But he will be as likely to see Santa Claus himself out there as any snipe. When he gets tired of waiting for the game, and for us to return, he can sneak off home alone. It will spoil those striped pantaloons of his, though, and ruffle his temper, so that this climate will not be apt. to agree with him any longer."

The just-accepted lover, however, did not seem in a hurry about going, and it was considerably later in the evening when he finally bade his betrothed "good-night." The latter, we should have explained, was the belle of Helena, Arkansas.

She was a high-spirited, dashing young lady, as might be inferred from the foregoing, and, withal, unusually handsome. She had numerous admirers, and, as may be imagined, her talk about a lack of company was only a little mischievous fibbing, craftily intended to elicit a declaration from him who had long been her favored suitor. The only reason why she had accepted the invitation of Raymond for the party was that she and her friends might make themselves merry at his expense. He was disposed to be spoony, and was so little acquainted with the bluff, hearty manner and disregard of ultra etiquette which characterize the people of the West, that he was constantly making himself ridiculous in their eyes, and therefore was vastly entertaining to the lively young ladies upon whom he lavished his attentions, though in a wholly different way from what he supposed. It may not be fully understood that snipe hunts were formerly a favorite means of humiliating gentlemen from the East who went West with too disparaging ideas about the people resident there and too lofty ideas of themselves. How these affairs were managed will fully appear in the remainder of our story.

A dozen or two choice spirits were assembled by Morgan the next evening, and Raymond, having been notified of the time and place, was punctually in attendance, wearing his best clothes and an air of importance which seemed to say, "I am bestowing a great favor in consenting to join you;" and so he was, for his was the principal and an indispensable part in the farce about to be enacted.

The party proceeded several miles out of town by wagons, to a small stream of water in a wild, lonely place. The wagons were left some distance away from the proposed scene of operations, which was in a low, swampy bottom.

Of course, everything had been well arranged beforehand, but to disarm suspicion, it was proposed by one of the fellows that they pull straws to see who should have the privilege of holding the bag. All pretended to agree to this, except Morgan, who insisted that the drawing be dispensed with, saying:

"I promised the post of honor to our distinguished friend here, Mr. Augustus Raymond, of New York, and I intend to see that he has it.

"Thank you, Mr. Morgan, for championing my cause," said Raymond, condescendingly. "You may rely upon me, gentlemen, in whatever post you assign me. I flatter myself that I shall bag as much game as any of you. But it has just occurred to me that we have no guns. How are we to shoot the snipe without guns?'

"We will soon show you, said one of the party," Bob Norton. "We are to form a line and drive the snipe down the creek, while the best man is to stand in this narrow place holding a large bag with the open end up stream. We have sometimes caught hundreds of snipe alive in that way at a single haul. Did you ever have any experience in holding bags?"

"No; but I know I can do it. Only show me where I am to stand."

"You will get your feet wet," suggested another of the party, adding consolingly, "but they will soon dry again. Do you think you can keep perfectly still and wait patiently till the snipe come?"

"No difficulty about that," replied Raymond, who remembered that he had promised Kate the first pick of the feathers.

"Then you're our man," said Bob, and turning to Morgan, "You vouch for the reliability of your friend, I suppose?"

"No fear about him," said Morgan; "he represents one of the leading notion houses of New York; he is true grit, and I warrant he would stand firm in his place till midnight if it took us so long to get the snipe down to him."

Raymond was then furnished with a large bag, the end of which was kept open by a hoop, and suffered himself to be stationed where the water and soft mud were unpleasantly deep, his legs from the knees down being completely submerged. He by no means relished the position, but remembering that he had promised some of the finest red and yellow feathers to Kate, and that Kate's cousin had vouched for him so emphatically, determined to stick it out.

"The water is very cold," he rather meekly suggested as the practical jokers were leaving him. "Do you think it will take very long?"

"We can't tell," replied Morgan. "We may scare up a flock in a few minutes, and it may take half an hour or so. Then, sometimes, they don't drive well, and that causes delay. But don't leave or stir till you have bagged them, for if you should give up and go away you might just miss a splendid flock. We will go to the American Hotel after the hunt is over, and have a Christmas eve supper. That will make amends for all our trouble."

We need scarcely add that they went straight home, taking their wagons with them, and leaving Raymond sinking deeper and deeper into the mud and water. Returning to Morgan's own residence they had a jolly time, and I cracked many a joke at the expense of their poor victim.

"Santa Claus may take pity on him," said Bob Norton, "and fill up his bag with Christmas presents, if he waits there long enough. That would console him, perhaps."

"He wouldn't appreciate them," chimed in another, "unless Santa Claus certified that the toys and things came from that leading notion house which he represents."

"I don't think he would have consented so willingly to hold the bag if I had not worked upon his cursed vanity so well," said Morgan; "and then Kate Andrews made him believe that snipe had long, beautiful red and yellow feathers, and that she wanted him to bring her one to wear to the party tomorrow night."

"I'm thinking his own fine feathers, which he has been strutting about in ever since he came here, will be much the worse for to-night's work," observed another.

And so passed the time with them till long after Christmas had been ushered in. Meanwhile Raymond was standing patiently in the water. No sound disturbed the stillness of the night except the occasional splash of a big fish in a deeper part of the stream just above him.

"This is a delightful manner of spending Christmas eve," he thought to himself. "What would my New York friends think if they could see me in this position?"

His feet and legs were as wet as they possibly could be, and he shivered with cold. Several times he was on the point of giving up, when the thought of Kate, the party, and the promised feathers came to him. Nor could he bear the idea of provoking the ridicule, and perhaps the wrath, too, of the young follows, by deserting his post.

Nearly an hour thus passed and he was not only drenched with water but nearly benumbed with the cold, when suddenly a suspicion dawned upon him that he had been outrageously duped.

"They have made a fool of me," he muttered, with an added imprecation, as his teeth chattered involuntarily, and throwing away the bag he hurried off in search of the wagons.

Fear was added to his rage and mortification when he found they were gone, and that he was left entirely alone in the wild solitary place. Fortunately it was a straight road back to town, and he had no difficulty in following it. He ran most of the way, yet did not reach his hotel till some time after midnight, and it may be readily surmised took the first train next morning for home.

Henry Morgan accompanied Kate Andrews to the Christmas party, and it was remarked by all their friends that she never looked so well nor seemed in such lively spirits, and that he appeared to be unusually happy.

Neither was ever again troubled by the attentions of New York drummers, and just one year later there was a grand wedding in Helena!

The happy pair included New York in their tour, and in a Broadway store met their old acquaintance, Raymond. He greeted them pleasantly, and, after some explanations on both sides, inquired:

"So Mr. Morgan was not your cousin, after all?"

"No more than you were yourself."

"And I suppose he escorted you to the party. I see through it all now. Well, though it was a most unhandsome trick you played upon me, it has turned out for the best. By hurrying home then I got here in time to be of great service to our house at a critical junction, and as a reward, have since been taken into the firm. Besides, I have found another lady-love, the accomplished daughter of our senior partner; and if you can wait till next Thursday, you shall be present at our wedding."

Christmas Snipe Hunt. December 25, 1873. Elk County Advocate 3(43): 1.

Snipe Hunting at Cane Creek Tennessee in 1876

Ledger Lines

Last night a squad of dry goods men visited Nonconnah bottom in order to initiate four of their number into the mysteries of snipe hunting. The would-be hunters had shot snipe in "holg Hengland," but never did, "you know," in this "blarsted" country. As one of them said to another, "It was a bloody good joke, my lad, but some fellahs don't like it, you know."

Snipe Hunting.

Four New Disciples to this Rare and Ancient Sport.

The old game of snipe hunting was perpetrated last night by four dry goods clerks on four of their associates most successfully. The victims are new comers from the North, only one of them having been here any length of time. They are young men of fine intelligence and have seen much of the world, but it was discovered that there was a deficiency in their education; that they had never been initiated into the mysteries of hunting snipe with a bag. Their friends kindly undertook to instruct them a day or two ago, and succeeded so well that the novices know as much about it now as their teachers.

The plan was originally to take the youths across the river and leave them out over night, but this was abandoned on account of the delicate health of one of them. Everything being ready, the party of eight sallied forth last night in the direction of Elmwood cemetery. Each man carried a large course sack bought at the feed store, or a bundle of fat fagots secured at a wood-yard to make torches. It was explained to the verdant youths that Southern snipe roost in the bayous or ravines, and are, when disturbed, easily attracted by a light. The modus operandi is simply to drive them toward a light and catch them in a wide-mouthed sack as they fly blindly at a flaming torch. When the bag is full tie it up and you have your snipes. It works admirably the first time; we have seen it tried often on greenhorns by school-boys as well as on grown men.

Our party marched with great enthusiasm in a crooked direction about five miles and reached a point near Cane creek, where there is a small bayou. As they approached the snipe ground every voice was lowered to a whisper. They walked as softly as cats. It was a moment of supreme excitement. Every man could feel his heart beat. They crept down into the almost dry bed of the bayou, built two little traps of sticks to hold up the bags, and lighted the torches. A man was placed at each trap and two others held bags open with their hands. These four, of course, were the pupils. The others were to go up half a mile by a roundabout way and drive the snipe down the bayou to the torches and into the bags.

The beaters-in started; but strange to say, when they got off a hundred yards or two they concluded to come back to town. It was only a short distance to the Hernando road. That being reached they returned quicker than they went. This was about the time the theater closed. It was a nipping cold night, but the young men with the bags, traps and torches, like faithful pickets on duty, stood their ground nobly, expecting every moment that the snipe would dash into their faces, like birds seeking refuge on a ship at sea during a storm. But nary a snipe. They became anxious about their friends, thinking something had happened, and went to look for them, making inquiry at a house. Still hopeful and confiding in human nature and snipe, they went back and resumed their posts. But there is a limit to human endurance. Some time between twelve and four o'clock they started back to the city, and on reaching their quarters realized they had been made the victims of a huge practical joke. They all took it rather good naturedly, or tried to, but it will not be the best to speak of snipe in their presence for a few days yet. Next!
November 25, 1876. Memphis Public ledger 23(74): 3.

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Ledger Lines

The young dry goods clerks who went "snipe hunting" in Cane creek bottom last Friday night are not in the best of humor over the publication of their adventures which appeared in the Ledger of Saturday.

November 27, 1876. Memphis Public Ledger 23(75): 3.

Follies of Oldtime Snipe Hunting in Early 1880s

Snipe Hunting in Nevada.

One of the most interesting snipe hunts of the season took places at Wadsworth one night last week. The method of sacking snipe had been explained to a young many who had recently arrived there, and he was eager to go on a hunt. So, fully instructed, he took up his position on top of a big rock on a hill overlooking the town. He carried with him a red signal lantern and a big dinner-bell. From dark until ten o'clock, for more than two hours, that young man stood on the rock waving his lantern and holding the sack. Sometimes he would ring the dinner-bell with all his might, and then he would shout like one possessed. he kept up an incessant din, never doubting for a moment that the snipe were coming in. The boys had done their work well, and he was fully impressed with the necessity of patience and perseverance to secure a good bag of birds. While this performance was going on the people of Wadsworth had all turned out to watch it. There was the young man high on the hill, in the red glare of his lantern, his yells and shouts ringing in their ears. It was too good. The "boys" just rolled over and over on the flat, delirious with joy, kicking up their heels in an ecstasy of delight. They laughed so much that they could laugh no more. But still, when the red light would be swung and the shouts of "Sni-pe, sni-pe, sni-pe, O sni-pe" would descend from the hill, they would experience fresh convulsions, and double up like youngsters stricken with colic after a feast of green apples. Suddenly the lantern was extinguished and all was silent on the hill. He had "tumbled" and was gone.

October 22, 1880. Jasper Weekly Courier 22(43): 2. From the Reno (Nev.) Gazette. Also in Red Cloud Chief on November 25, 1880.

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A Memphis Snipe Hunter

On Monday night a few of the humorous wags induced a verdant Memphis commercial tourist to engage in a "snipe hunt." Bounding with enthusiasm, the party soon found themselves amid the dark and gloomy recesses of Cane creek bottom, and the necessary measures were taken for making a big haul of nocturnal game. The bag was spread, candles lighted and the luckless wight joyfully took his stand to see them enter. The rest then scattered to scour the woods, find the game and drive them in, leaving the solitary watcher alone in his glory. The sequel is too ludicrous to mention. Suffice it to say, the victim will not want to go on a snipe hunt soon amid the Cane creek jungles.

November 28, 1882. Memphis Public Ledger 35(76): 3. From Ripley News.

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Doesn't Want Advice From Strangers.

The afternoon of Thanksgiving day was of that dreary, hazy, nonpareil character when the affluent glories of soft Italian rain were slowly fading into the autumnal tints of a blue norther that came streaking down from the bald summits of the Rocky Mountains, and cast its chilling shadows on the shingle roof of the City Hotel at Brenham, Texas. Our scene opens in this famous hostelry.

Five solitary drummers were lying around the stove, and in picturesque groups, but in obedience to the natural instinct all drummers seem to have to impart a fictitious expansion to the truth. They had been lying so much in a professional capacity that it was a treat for them to have a little go as you please lying match with each other on general principles. The subjects under discussion, or rather under prevarication, were fishing, hunting and field sports generally. They told such fearful lies that the very stove turned red, which stove they had surrounded as completely as if it was a country merchant who needed goods.

The youngest commercial emissary in the delegation was a youth named Levi Jacobson, who was raiding on Texas in the interest of Baltimore house in the boot, shoe and clothing line. He did not join the conversation, and there was really no reason for him to do so, as the sacred cause of truth was suffering abundant mutilation as it were, at the hands of the other inquisitors. The reason Levi Jacobson did not volunteer to help was because there were other topics on which he could do better. If they had talked about the drama, or of female loveliness, he would not have been found without something to say, for was he not a critic and a master of the mashers? He prided himself on being one of the knowing one; but having lived all his life in cities or on the road he was somewhat lost when the talk was of quail, trout, deer, and of the rival merits of choke bore, centre fire, 10-calibre, etc., etc., etc.

Snipe were mentioned, and some one made an allusion to that hackneyed old practical joke about catching snipe in a sack, never supposing for a moment that there was any one alive on earth who did not know the joke. Jacobson, however, was ignorant, as he demonstrated by remarking that "those snipe must be stupid, like that ostrich was, to put their head in a bag."

It was nuts to the other drummers to find at last "the most innocent man on the road."

A snipe hunt was at once proposed, Mr. Jacobson to take the leading role and carry the sack and lantern.

They went out about three miles from town in a hack at 9 o'clock at night, across creeks, through woods and swamps, until they came to what the driver said was a good snipe ground, Jacobson was placed in a path with a lantern in one hand and the sack in the other. The rest of the party were to scatter out for some distance, and then to gradually close in and return back to Jacobson, driving the snipe before them. The leading man in the company was instructed how to kill the snipe when he captured the full of the bag, and how to set his trp and wait for more. Then the other drummers went howling out into the darkness in pursuit of snipe.

Mr. Jacobson waited.

Holding the sack made his arms ache.

Bullfrogs croaked.

Jacobson continued to wait.

Owls hooted.

The night grew apace and found Jacobson still waiting for the snipe to come out of the darkness.

It was midnight.

Around the same stove four solitary drummers were gathered. They were full of mirth and gayety, and they laughed loud and long.

Suddenly the laugh died away on their lips, the merry joke was chopped off in its utterance and an unripe pun was hastily thrown under the stove by the long-legged drummer, for there in the doorway stood a ragged and mud-stained remnant — all that was mortal of Jacobson, the snipe hunter.

He said: "My vrends, you thought dot was a good joke, but I vas acquainted vith dot joke sefen years ago. I stayed out vith dot bag there just to see if you was so man as to blay dose tricks on a stranger, and I vants nodings more to do with you."

He refused all overtures looking toward a reconciliation, and went to bed swearing he would leave the place on the next day's evening train. He stayed in his room all of the next morning. The joke got all over town. Mr. Moses Solomons, a leading merchant of the place, thought it was decidedly wrong to have treated Jacobson so badly, and called to make his acquaintance and extend his sympathies.

When he was admitted to Mr. J's room the latter said:

Vat you vants? Guess you would like to go bear-hunting vith me and a flour-sack; or do you vant to have some fun driving jack-rabbits into a mosquito net, eh?"

Mr. Solomons explained that he had heard that the boys had treated Mr. Jacobson rather roughly, and that he had threatened to leave the city without showing his samples. He merely called, he said, to say that the citizens should not be blamed, and to advise that Mr. J. should change his intention and prosecute his business as if nothing had happened.

"I don't vant any advice from stranger. I vas treated padly in this town, and I leaves it right away. There vas no shentlemans in this blace."

Mr. Solomons has a great deal of pride in the social and financial standing of the people of Brenham.

When Mr. Jacobson was dragged from under Mr. Solomons it was found necessary to adjust his scattered Abrahamic countenance with about a yard of court-plaster. He is now travelling in Western Louisiana, and he tells the merchants with whom he does business that he was run over by a hand-car on the Central Railroad.

Juniata Sentinel and Republican 37(6): 1. Issued February 7, 1883.

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A K.C. Drummer Goes Snipe Hunting With the Boys.

Saturday night after we had retired tired to our "downy couch", we were aroused by the sound of many voices, some hollowing, laughing and making numerous other noisy expressions, which paralyzed us for a minute, but, recovering, and feeling a sense of duty creeping over us, we got up and stuck our head out of the window to ascertain, if possible what was the cause of the disturbance, but in this we were baffled, for between us and the scene of excitement stood a brick building, and not being able to penetrate its walls, we proceeded at once to don our trousers, and other necessary wearing apparel, and wend our way into the noisy street. When nearing the Medicine Lodge house we saw a large group of men sill circled around some object, which we could not then see, for it was completely hemmed in; this gave us renewed energy, and so we determined to proceed further and investigate the matter, we elbowed our way into the crowd, and what do you think we saw a man, yes, a man, we got closer; we knew we had seen him, but when and where, we put our ponderate brain to work, and in a short time it all came to us, it was Mr. S. H. — of a well-know leather and shoe linings house in Kansas City. We had seen him several times on Saturday, but, oh, my, under much more favorable circumstances. He wore bycickle pants, cut bias, with brake attachment, a "seymore" coat, kid gloves and a dude hat, but it shocks our modesty to describe him there in that crowd with his shoes off, his pants pulled up as far as they would go — owing to the smallness at the bottom, they refused to be pulled up any further, his coat off, and his shirt once white, looked as if it had a dose of eppecach or had been the victim of a cyclone. He was mud from head to foot, and had evidently got into the river. On inquiring of the woe-begone how he got in such a predicament, we were in informed that he had been the victim of a "snipe hunt" He met, and became acquainted with, at Pratt Centre, a Mr. Harrington, traveling for Dignan and McGinnis, St. Louis, and Chas. Beckmeyer, representing McComb Bros., Wichita. They told him that when they got to Medicine Lodge they would get some of the leather men there and go out snipe hunting; To this Mr. H. readily consented. As soon as the drummers got here they informed W. S. Finney, an other member of the leather brigade,of their scheme, and he became one of tho active participants in the hunt. After supper they procured sufficient conveyance to take them to the snipe region, loaded the unfortunate in and left town. They had supplied themselves with a gunny sack and a couple of candles. They took and kept the San City road until they had crossed the river, then they took the ravine for

the hill, not far distant where they halted.

"Now," said Mr. Finney, "we will find plenty of snipe here," and you can hold the sack and candles while we drive them in, pointing to Mr. Harrington."

"Hold," cried Mr. S.H., "let me hold the sack; I want to see them run in. I want to have something to tell the Kansas City girts when I go back."

Well, this was just the part the boys wanted him to play. So they let him hold the sack.

He got down on his knees — candle in each hand, and holding on to the sack — commenced to watch for the snipe. The boys told him that he must not take his eyes off the sack, and so far as they knew, he did not. The mosquitos were bad, but he dare not strike them lest he lose sight of the snipe. The boys got into the buggy and started out to hunt the snipe and drive them in, after they got a short distance, they commenced hollowing "here they are! Look out for them! Hold on to all you get," and the hard-hearted boys pulled out for town and left him there holding the sack. When they got across the river and on an opposite hill they could see him holding the candles. He had to wade or swim the river and walk several miles in order to get to town. It was about 1 o'clock when he got in. The boys had given him a steamboat racket, and it was his intention to take a boat for Kiowa, and then go up Sand creek to Hazleton. But he changed his mind and took the stage early Sunday morning for home.

Well, he will have something to tell the Kansas City girls, but we doubt very much whether he tells it or not. It is hoped he left Medicine lodge a wiser if not a better man.

August 22, 1884. Barbour County Index 5(12): 3.

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A Justifiable Attack.

Special to the Gazette.

At Easton recently a young man named Charles Rousseau has been the victim of a series of playful pranks which in the end drove him from home and came near resulting fatally to a young man named Brewster. Rosseau had recently been converted and manifested his religious zeal in a manner offensive to his acquaintances — so much so that they determined to get rid of him by making him the butt of ridicule. A number of pranks were played upon him, the last one being the ancient "snipe hunt," with Rousseau as sack-holder. For three hours he held a sack in the Sabine bottoms, and then wandered through swamps until daylight. The next day, being ridiculed by Brewster, he leaped upon him with an open knife and gashed his arms and sides in a fearful manner, and when taken from him fled. No trace of him can be found. Brewster is not fatally injured. but is in a very bad condition.

October 18, 1884. Fort Worth Daily Gazette 8(283): 1.

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That Snipe Hunt.

Now that there has been so much said about the snipe hunt we will give the whole thing away. Our reported was hired to go along and write the thing up. Dr. McAdams came to the reporter's cage and mapped out the whole plan and requested the reporter to engage as war correspondent for the great expedition. The scribe and the pill-slinger went together to Lawrence's drug store, where our hired man was treated to a pocket full of cigars. When the party got to the edge of the brush he thought he had earned his cigars and started back to town, leaving all the fools behind. Of course he filled his contract by writing it up, but the fun of the thing is that the young man who held the bag was not sold at all. He got back to the city before the smart alecks, and when the cost of the bag, two pounds of candles, half a box of cigars and six bottles of whiskey are figured up, it is easy to tell who was sold.

March 13, 1885. Wichita Daily Eagle 1(254): 4.