Arizona weekly citizen., 1882-01-15
COON CATCHING.
A Night of Adventure with "old Rough and
 Rsady's' Nephew in Ks7tucky.


 ' It was one of those pleasant nights II l. August when the moon and the sun hOlC l. a contest as to which shall afford tht
 mornings light by which the predatory q huntsman may find his watermelons and a his 'coOns. For 1t was in Kentucky that - we were spending that month, at 6 a quaint old-time Southern house, neal
 Louisville-a square-quilt, plain brick house that had been enlarged as the ex. n | igencies of an increasing family deman- 2 ded. Down in the dell below rippled a
 brook. The scene was suggestive, par i ticnlarly because a small dog that i formed an important member of the
 party was constantly hurrying hither
 and thither and barking up tree,' the
 wrong tree, of course.
 2 Lets show these Yankees a coon : hunt" said a brOad-shOuldered Ken tuckian who had been following the
 movements of the dog with no little ln- terest. The proposition was no sooner
 made than accepted. It was late, but whoever heard of coon hunt when 1t was not late. So, without more ado, we
 set out A darkey was reused from the
 cabin, and, far from being unwilling
 showed more eagerneSs than the mis-
 guided dog. Into a wagon we tumbled
 after the ebony attendant had provided himself with long rope, an axe and
 lantern, to say nothing of a particularly disagreeable dog that was patronlzed by
 every one, but submitted only to the suggestions of Peter. Peter drove us over a "pike" road and finally brought ! up at the gate of very dlapldated | house. "HallO~ called the brOad-shOul- dered Kentuckian who had acted as i guide.
 What is it?' was the reply of feeble
 woman who appeared at the door of the dilapidated house with a weak yellow ! light from a candle weakly shining into | a not very strong face.
 "Where's Walker?r was the reply.
 Hes down to the river, at his house down there"
 "Where's his dog?"
 His dogs with Walker, of course" vas the disdainful reply, and the weak ! looking woman with the faint light shut the door with a dilapidated banV.
 "WhO's Walker?" asked one of the Yankees.
 He's Walker Taylor, a nephew of old Zach Taylor and the representative of the family in this part of the country. 1
 This is where Kentucky's only Presi- l dent lived and there's where Kentucky | let him live" added the speaker, medi- | tatively, as he pointed to a clump of shrubbery.
 "Wherey'' was eagerly asked by the Yankees.
 "Get down and see?7 said our guide, as he laped from the wagon.
 Ii,Ere in a mass of uncut weeds and | bushes was a -eritable vault, and there lay the bones of "U.d Rough and Ready" the only son of Kentucky who ever sat | in the highest seat of this land. And We were looking for his nephew and rep | resentative, the owner of the old hC@e- stead where the President and his father before him had lived; we were looking for Walker Taylor and his dog to help hunt the coon. The spot was not with ont it's romance and its tenderness as the moonlight streamed down into the un- kept garden. Since then the dust of the old warrior has been removed to more hallowed ground. It has been taken to the cemetery at Louisville to await the erection of a monument at the Frank fort Cemetery, where other great Ken tuckians are buried in a sort of State cemetery.
 But there in the sOmbre light the scene was sad and impressive. The tomb was only a brick structure, eaten away in places by the consuming hand" and all OvergrOwn with the Virginia creepers, or the tive-leaf ivy, as it IS called there abOuts, and made obscure in the mass of brIers and weeds that filed up what gave evidence of having once been a cultiva- ted garden. There was DO line to say an n AL the old hero whose battles had won him the sobriquet of "Old Rough and Ready" Rough enough 1t was, and there had been enough for preparation, lying there as the ashes did in an undisturbed quiet, for the old house of the living was not more carefully tended than that of the dead. It had never been the scene of much adOrnment, for old Taylor had been as ready in his home as in his bat ties. and the scenes of his successes had lain in other parts; he learned to plan there, and perhaps to love there, and he had come back to rest the long rest. There were no historic memories of fetes and gala times; but for all that there was an air Of regret about all the scene, with the queer little gabled house just peering over the bushes and now decay ing beneath the boughs of the large trees that surrounded 1t. Vines grew over the house, as they did over the little vault and over the fences. The place looked as though long years ago people had ceased to enter it and hearts and hopes there were dead. And yet this was the homestead of a President and here his descendants hvedl
 Leaving the sombre scene, We drove rapidly to the river to TaylOT's "Other house. It was tisherman's hut float ing on the waters edge. The unlocked door swung open at our bidding, but there was no sign of man excpt few lines and nets and pair of oars. Hes running his trOt line" said our Kentuck- ian, "and we'll have to TOW up the river for him.
 He took the pair of oars and we, dogs and all, got into a boat built with square keel and bow, and with labored strokes We made our way up the Ohio, occasion ally hallOOing for "Wal-kerT At last l there was a response, and making our way out into the stream we found a little old man sitting in the stern of boat made of the trunk of tree and familiar ly known as a "dUg-Out" He was run ming a "trot llne.' The Presidents nephew was paddling along this line, lifting hook after hook and finding very few fish.
 Our guide said that " Walk Taylor % was one of the worst farmers in the country, but one of the best fishermen, and that he owned a hound famous all about for her exploits in hunting the treacherOus coon. Very little sufficed for Taylor's wants; he required only quantity of whisky and a little to eat, and the fish served well enough for both. His friends supported the hound. Tay- lOr's appearance bore testimony to the ; truth of all this; he was little, his hair l grew thInly all over hls face, and had that struggling appearance that, togeth- { CT with blOssOming nose, full, weak l mouth, a coat that did not fit, and trow- { sers tucked into his boots, gave Mir. Fay Tor altogether rakish air. He looked goOd-Iatured, generous, but conscious that he had nothing but his own good nature to be generous with.
 Such was Walker Taylor His hound was his counterpart on four legs. She ; had an appearance of melancholy hap i piness. As We rowed to the bank she looked less melancholy and more happy: , and when once put ashore she was all { life and her eager step had something { spirited in 1t. |
 Then from the bank the hunt began, , the hound taking the lead, the terrier ' following and the disagreeable dog in 1; the rear. Then came Walk. Taylor, his { hands in his pockets, and the rest of us i struggled along the best we could. The brush on the bank of the river was beat 1 en through; the hound gave short quick ! cries that told how anxious she was to find something Presently we left the ri,-ar hank and o-ot into tba ipfa-;or l