The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1893-10-12
EMERSON DEER HUNTING.
How the Great Philosopher Grew Into tn
Camp Life.

How the Great Philosopher Grew Into the
Camp Life.
1.-THE Philosophers Camp" was q
gathering of congenial spirits in the
Adirondacks in 1855, among whom were
Emerson, Lowell, Agassiz, Judge Hoar,
Amos Binney and myself. 1t was in
into the camp life.
As at first he had refused to carry a
rifle, and decided to take one only for
uniformity, so in the early days of our
forest residence he declined to take
any part in the hunting or fishing; but
we had not been long in the camp be-
fore he caught the temper of the occa-
sion, and began to desire to kill his
deer. Luck failed him in the drives in
which he took part, the deer always
coming in to some other watcher, and
we decided to try night-hunting; /. e.,
stealing up to the deer as they browse
in the pads along the shallow water,
carrying in the bow of the boat light
which blinds the animal, the lantern
throwing all its light forward and the
hunter sitting invisible in the shadow.
We took the best guide at the paddle,
Emerson taking the firing-seat behind
the lamp, and in the middle with my
rifle, ready in case he missed his shot.
There is something weird in silently
gliding along spectral diorama of ir-
recognizable landscape, with rocks and
trees slipping by like phantasms; for
the motion of the boat is not distin'
guishable, and the only sound is the
occasional grating of the rushes on the
bottom of the boat. it is, in fact, the
most exciting form of deer hunting for
certain temperaments, and the poet
was strongly impressed. The practised
ear of the guide soon caught the sound
of the football of deer making his
way down to the shore, and he turned
the glare of the lamp on the beach,
moving directly on him till he was
within twenty yards. The signal to
| fire was given and repeated, but Elmer
son could distinguish nothing. ''Shoot!"
finally whispered the guide in the
faintest breath "Shoot!" | repeated
nearer But the deer was invisible to
him, and we drifted to boats length
|
fright, and bolted for the woods, undis-
turbed by hasty shot | sent after
him, and we heard his triumphant
whistle and gallop dying away in the
forest depths Emerson was stupefied.
We rounded the next point and found
deer already on the feeding ground,
to repeat the experience. The deer
| IL, 20 IA IN, full in
the shallow water; but straining his
vision to the utmost, he could distin-
guish nothing like a deer, and when
we had got so near that the same re-
suit was imminent, l fired, and the
buck fell dead "Well," said Emerson,
eff that was deer, | shall fire at the
first square see" but we saw no more
that night.
| Each disappointment, however,
plunged him more deeply into the ex-
element of the chase, and he was most
anxious to kill his deer before he went
home, unable to resist the contagion OF
the passion for it. He said to me one
| day: 81 must kill deer before we &C
home, even if the guide has to hold
|
year, when the deer are in their short
coat, the body sinks at once If shot in
the deep water; and on overtaking the
quarry in the lake, if the deerslayer
was not sure of his shot, the guide
used to run the boat alongside of it.
and catch it by the TAIL when the shot
became u sure one. AS we hunted
only when we needed the meat, we did
not risk the loss of the deer, and when
poor shot held the gun, the quarry
was caught by the tail and killed in
this unsportsmanlil<e way. That sur
vival of the earliest passion of the
primitive man, the passion of the
chase, ovcrcame even the philosophiC
mind Of Emerson, once exposed to the
original influences, and he recognized
his ancestral bent. Few of MS who live
an active life fail to be attracted by
this first of all occupations Of the yet
nncivilized man. Emerson never had
the qualification of his desire; the deer
never came to him on the drive, and
his repetition of the night hunt was nc
more successful. j. Stillman, in
| Century.