Title Page
 Front Matter
 Table of Contents
 List of Illustrations
 Anecdote of Frank Forester
 Boyhood, Early Adventures, and...
 In the Seminole War and in...
 The Novelist's Intense Patriot...
 Life in the Adirondacls - a Hunter's...
 Ned Buntline in the Civil War
 Unjust Imprisonment of Ned...
 With 'Scouts of the Plains" and...
 Later Years - Personal Reminis...
 Ned Buntline as an Angler and Angling...
 Ned Buntline as a Writer of...
 Closing Years of a Remarkable...

Group Title: Life and adventures of "Ned Buntline" pseud. : with Ned Buntline's Anecdote of "Frank Forester" pseud. and chapter of angling sketches
Title: Life and adventures of "Ned Buntline" [pseud.]
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00055590/00001
 Material Information
Title: Life and adventures of "Ned Buntline" pseud. with Ned Buntline's Anecdote of "Frank Forester" pseud. and chapter of angling sketches
Physical Description: 4 p. 1., 139 p. : 3 port. (incl. front.) ; 25 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Pond, Frederick Eugene, 1856-1925
Publisher: The Cadmus book shop
Place of Publication: New York
Publication Date: 1919
Genre: non-fiction   ( marcgt )
Bibliography: Bibliography: p. 138-139.
Statement of Responsibility: by Fred E. Pond ("Will Wildwood") ...
General Note: "Two hundred and fifty copies have been printed from type and the type distributed."
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00055590
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002043584
oclc - 01853593
notis - AKN1477
lccn - 20008890

Table of Contents
        Page i
    Title Page
        Page ii
    Front Matter
        Page iii
        Page iv
    Table of Contents
        Page v
    List of Illustrations
        Page vi
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
    Anecdote of Frank Forester
        Page 4
        Page 4a
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
    Boyhood, Early Adventures, and First Story
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
    In the Seminole War and in Gotham
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
    The Novelist's Intense Patriotism
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
    Life in the Adirondacls - a Hunter's Home
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
    Ned Buntline in the Civil War
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
    Unjust Imprisonment of Ned Buntline
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
    With 'Scouts of the Plains" and at Home
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
    Later Years - Personal Reminiscences
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
    Ned Buntline as an Angler and Angling Writer
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 110a
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
    Ned Buntline as a Writer of Verse
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
    Closing Years of a Remarkable Career
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
Full Text








'X -


Ned Buntline's Anecdote of

"Frank Forester"

And Chapter of Angling Sketches



("Will Wildwood")

ditor of

" Prank FUoarter' utive Spatinw St Ca.,"


and Character," etc.





Table of Contents


Anecdote of Frank Forester.

Boyhood, Early

Adventures, and First Story..........


In the Seminole War and in Gotham..................






Life in the Adirondacks-A Hunter's Home............


Ned Buntline in the Civil War......


Unjust Imprisonment of Ned Buntline................


With "Scouts of the Plains," and at Home............


Later Years-Personal Reminiscences.

Ned Buntline as An Angling Writer.


Ned Buntline as a

Writer of Verse.

Closing .Years of a Remarkable Career....
Books by Ned Buntline................

. 45


Portrait of Col. Judson-"Ned Buntline"........ Frontispiece

Portrait of H. W. Herbert-"Frank Forester...Facing Page 4

Portrait of Seth Green.....................Facing Page 111



The life history of C
Judson ("Ned Buntline"
romance, as his career,
age, was a succession of a

ol. Edward Zane Carroll
) is more thrilling than
from boyhood to middle
adventures by land and sea;

as a sportsman and angler in the then primitive wil-
derness and lake region of the Adirondacks, as a
midshipman in the navy, a soldier in the Seminole
war, the Mexican war, the four years of warfare
between the North and South, and finally in the In-
dian wars of the wild west.
Colonel Judson's record should have lasting fame
--first, for his unfaltering Americanism and his in-
fluence for loyalty in the times that literally tried
men's souls; then,, on account of his really remark-
able literary achievements in the line of realistic
romance, bringing into world-wide fame the last if
not the most notable of American scouts and fron-
tiersman-"Buffalo Bill," "Wild Bill," "Texas
Jack," and other fearless scouts of the plains, whose
deeds of daring were no less thrilling than those of
Daniel Boone and Kit Carson in an earlier era; and
last, but of equal interest to all lovers of out-door


sports, his graphic, delightful sketches relating to
shooting and fishing, with his personal reminiscences
of some of the pioneers of American sporting litera-
Considered in the light of realistic fiction, Ned
Buntline's sea tales and border romances will corn-

pare favorably wi
Cooper's celebrated

that in t
stories w
gree of
rather tl
inous an

he ret
of tl

ie scouts

written by Ned Bi
accuracy as to de
than any of (
han preciseness
ion, in place of a
nount of fiction,

press and public-these
the earlier novelist more
The series entitled "Li
Buntline" first appeared

and the limited edition now pi
-with some additional remain
training "Anecdote of Frank F
line"-may serve to interest
lectors of personal memoirs
writers who have not only put
of stirring fiction, but have
similar to those represented in
sidered from this viewpoint a

he best of J. Fenimore
s--in fact it is safe to state
mries descriptive of the ad-
of the plains the popular
untline had far greater de-
epicting rea scenes and in-
:ooper's tale\ Priority,
of work; studi us care in
hastily written and volum-
to meet the demand of
conditionss combine to give
enduring fame.
fe and Adventures of Ned
in Wildwood's Magazine,

published in book form
iscences and an enter-
orester, by Ned Bunt-
the enthusiastic col-
of noteworthy men;
forth a liberal amount
led adventurous lives
I their novels. If con-
lone, Colonel Judson

would stand at the head of American novelists, as

no other has shown such a wonderful career of real,
often reckless daring as he whose name was known
to comparatively few while his nom de plume ("Ned
Buntline") at the height of his success, was known
to millions; but fame is fleeting, and the man of
phenomenal energy, of dauntless courage, of once
national reputation, now rests-almost unknown to
the younger generation--in the shadow of his loved
home "The Eagle's Nest," in the Highlands of the

iq W


(Col. Edward Z. C. Judson)

Y EARLY association with Henry William
Herbert ("Frank Forester") is indelibly
impressed upon the tablets of memory. I

remember the
fled, scholarly
brilliant conversation
sporting reminiscences.
Generous to a fault, h
last dollar, when any

sporting author as a digni-
gentleman, warm-hearted, a
list, full of anecdote and
Snobs were his aversion.
e would give, not share, his
worthy person was in need

and came under his notice. His cosw
"The Cedars," on the Passaic River,
N. J., was the retreat for not only
and distinguished friends, but also
one unfortunate or unlucky man of
literary efforts had been poorly rewai



y country seat,
near Newark,
many wealthy
for more than
letters, whose
rded. Though
birth, he was

much attached to America as the home of his adop-
tion. All his works show this. Yet he was very




-5 -

sensitive, and any apparent slight or lack of courtesy
on the part of others was not lightly or easily for-
given. His over-sensitive nature often involved him

in heated controversies, and even quarrels,
to his native land, England. The writer fe
out in a strange way. At a dinner party
William T. Porter, of the Spirit of the Tim
Carlton House, New York, where Herbert

in regard
found this
given by
es, at the

there were present, if I remember correctly,
Richards, of the Spirit; Charles Elliott, the 8
portrait painter; Lewis Gaylord Clarke, edito
the Knickerbocker Magazine; Dempster, the
poser and balladist; "Frank Forester," and
writer hereof.
The dinner, strictly game, was profuse and

tr of



and after the cl
s were called for.
of his inimitable

the writer fo
tell. Not fo
offense, the
man who ha

r a French
r an instant
story was
d been caj

oth was removed songs and
Dempster sang, Clarke told
anecdotes and then called on
story he had once heard him
It thinking of giving Herbert
told. It was of a French-
)tured by the British frigate

Guerriere, telling of the capture of the latter by the
American frigate Constitution, in the war of 1812.

It ran thus:
"ShentilmensI W'en ze Yankee Doodle
was 'ave ze war wiz ze John Bull nation, ]
Havre wiz my leetle breeg, La- Belle Julie.
sink I will make one grand speculation. I l
breeg wiz a beautiful cargo of ze wine, ze

was in
And I
oad my




and ze sausage
Amerique to sell
finely, zen along
she go boom wil

breeg: Zel
my breeg a
name of hi
"I reply
tanic Maje
"Zen he

de Bologna; and
zem. Four, five
come one John
z her big gun and

n a John
nd he say
I 'ave ze
s Brittani
: 'Sare! I
sty.' Mo
remove t

I make sail for
days I sail along
Bull freegat, and
I stop my leetle

Bull officiare he come on board

onare to take possession in ze
c Majesty.

very mud




ze John Bull freegat,
men and make fire to
Davy Jones' lockare.

az I can speak.
swear and tear m
"Zen ze John
say: 'Nevare mini
'Aha I repl]
tune '
"Then he say:
take some brandy
"I sank him, I

and he pc
and he sa
"I taste
floor. I

)ur I


nty o:

I look at m
y hair and w

h oblige to heez Brit-
was not oblige at all.
e brandy and wine to
remove me and my
eeg, and send her to
ieu-I was more mad
y poor breeg, and I
'eep like as one foun-

Bull capitan he come to me and
d-zis is but ze fortune of war/P
y to heem-'it is one-- bad for-

'Cheer up I
wiz me.' "
sink I will.
me and for
iy to him:
raree goo't'

Come in ze cabin and

Zen I go in ze cabin
heem each a glass of


(good health)

y to me ze same.
i of zat brandy. Sacre! I throw it on ze
spit it from my mouth. Zat John Bull


capitan have ask me zare to drink my own brandy.
"At zat moment a John Bull sailare cry out-
'Sail ho.'
"Capitan Dacre-zat was his name-he go out
and wiz his glass see one Yankee Doodle freegat
come zat way. He cry out:
"'Clear ze sheep for action! Give ze men
some of zat Frenchmen's brandy, for to make zem
brave. In ten minutes from ze first gun I shall
wheep zat Yankee Doodle.'
"I no say nothing, but I pray ze Bon Dieu ze boot
go on ze ozzare leg.
"By and by ze freegat came close, and boom I

boom! go ze guns. I '
to ze bottom of ze fre
business where come
After a leetle while I I
big guns, and zen I go
what a beautiful sight.
dead John Bull mens.
Ze John Bull flag wa
Doodle officaire come
'I have ze honare t

ave some business
:egat right away.
ze shot like hail
hear no more ze
on ze deck. Oh !
Ze deck it was

I 'a

ve no
of ze
Dieu I

covare wiz

Ze masts zey were all gone I
s pull down, and a Yankee
in one boat and say:
to receive possession of your

sword, Capitan Dacre.'
"He look very mad, and I say:
'Nevare mind, Capitan Dacre-zis is ze
tune of war.'
'One curseed bad fortune,' he reply."
"I say to heem: 'Capitan, drink a leetle of
brandy. It will cheer you up.'


"He say I
"I say: 'N
freegat wiz y
and soon she
look for my
This was
from every
looked very

to me: 'Go-to-ze-d-l.'
lo sare II will go to ze Yankee Doodle
rou, for your old freegat is full of holes,
will go down to Davy Jones' lockare to
leetle breeg.' "
all the story, and it brought laughter
one but Herbert. He was silent, and
grim. The party broke up soon after,

and I was astonished the next morning by a note

from Herbert to this e
"If I thought Englis
them brave, I could be
naming a friend to ar
I was never more su
right over to the "Spit
Porter. While he an
matter, Herbert himself

hmen needed
range preli
rprised in n
"it of the T
d I were 1
f dropped i

ed brandy to make
to the contrary by
minaries, etc."
ny life, and I went
times" office to see
laughing over the
n. I walked up to

him with the note in my hand and told him sincerely

that I had no thought ol
age, and that the story
over to show the amusing
Herbert was all right
adjourned next door to
been made a serious a:
foolishly punctilious.

f reflecting on English cour-
was only an old one dressed
g side of the broken French

in a second, and four of us
smile over what could have
flair had either party been







Sa picturesque vale among the
of the Catskill range, near
waters of the Delaware river, lie
village of Stamford, noted for

ful location, and
surrounding country, but i
the birth-place and home
Mr. L. Carroll Judson,

the head
s the quiet
its health-

the lovely scenery of the.
more widely celebrated as
of "Ned Buntline."
a sturdy, intellectual rep-

resentative of an old and honored family-tracing
descent from "the Puritan forefathers"-came to


he was i

1 in an early day and made h
s. Like the rigid stock of
a stern and unyielding man,
with intense energy, a will
d was regulated by rules

is home in the
old Plymouth,
cold and me-
of iron. His
which were

deemed as immutable as the laws of the ancient
Medes and Persians, and this strict discipline was
held to be highly commendable by the ultra-moral-
ists of that day. At times he would exhibit the


-10 IO-

warmer impulses of his nature by generous deeds
and kind words, genial as the glimpses of sunshine
that break through threatening clouds. A lawyer by
profession, he was a man of literary taste, and gave
evidence of considerable talent in this direction by
the publication of several books-chiefly historical
and practical works. One of these, entitled "The
Sages and Heroes of the American Revolution," has
been widely read and is still frequently quoted. The
taste for literature and scholarship may be men-
tioned as a family characteristic, reaching in indi-
vidual instances a high degree of merit-as evinced
in ,the career of Adoniram Tudson. the famous mis-

of author
trained a


.L. Carroll Judson's work in the line
was undertaken as a diversion or re-
i his legal pursuits--in which he at-
surroundings and influences Edward

Zane Carroll
years-was b
prevailed on
who was press
a wild, dark

orn March 2
the night of
;ent on the o0
and fearful

e "Ned
o, 1823
his bir

Buntline" of later
. A terrible storm
th. Dr. Howard,
relates that it was
the flood-gates of

Heaven appeared wide open, the wind swept over
the mountains and along the valley with the fury of
a tempest, while the vivid flashes of lightning and re-
verberations of thunder made the spectators tremble.
This circumstance was impressed upon the mind of
young Judson, who often heard the incident men-
tioned, and it caused a foreboding that his journey

- II -

of life would be equally turbulent and tempestuous;
a prediction that was fully verified. At a later period
he gave a vivid description, in verse, of the memora-
ble night and his stormy career. The little poem is
entitled "March-Born," and the first stanza runs as

Born when tempests wild were raging
O'er the earth, athwart the sky,
When mad spirits seemed as waging

Battle fierce for mast'ry
Born when thunder loudly
Shook the roof above mn
When red lightning lit the
Which o'er land and sea
1826 his father removed


Pa., then almost a wilderness,
learned his first lessons from the
the grand old book of Nature.
hunter and angler. The trout si
tion were abundant, and Ned lo

was spread.
to Wayne county,
and young Judson
glowing leaves.of
He was a born
streams of that sec-
ved nothing better

than to drop an occasional line to his finny friends

in the c
the old
The so

depths, while the fish responded to his kind at-
s by coming out of the wet. Ned's pro-
for playing truant sometimes led to a rather
chastisement, as his father believed firmly in-
I creed: "Spare the rod and spoil the child."



was a convert to the same belief, but pre-
o use the rod himself in whipping the
for trout.
Id inherited the same spirit of determina-

tion that was displayed by his sire, and to this was

- I2-

added Spartan courage and endurance. He did not
rebel against paternal authority, but continued by
hook or crook to go a-fishing. His skill with the
rod and gun finally won his father's admiration.
Before he was six years of age he learned to shoot
well with a heavy rifle which he could not hold at
arm's length, and therefore fired it at rest over a
log or fence rail. When eight years of age his dis-
play of markmanship so pleased the elder Judson
that he purchased a seven-pound rifle for Ned, who
went out at dawn the next morning and killed a fine
doe in a field near the house. "From that time to
the present day," said Ned Buntline in writing to a
friend, in 1878, "I have been a hunter." These
hunting exploits and fishing jaunts awakened in the
lad all the latent love of adventure that was to form
the more thrilling and romantic portion of his life's
The wild, roving life of a young woodsman had
become so thoroughly congenial to young Judson
that he had mentally decided to follow the illustrious
example of Daniel Boone, when all his anticipations
were dashed to the ground by removal of the family
to Philadelphia. Here his father found a wider
field for the practice of law, and as Ned progressed
rapidly in his studies the proud sire resolved that
the boy should be put through a course to prepare
him for the legal profession. The dry tomes of
Blackstone and Coke proved utterly distasteful to
Ned, and he finally refused to continue the obnox-

- 13-

ious studies. His father, i
of paternal authority, gave
and told him the studies n
Ned had firmly resolved ne
and the severe punishment
to sea for the purpose of b
high seas." He had for

ndignant at this
the lad a severe
iust be at once
:ver to become s

caused him
becoming "a
some time

i lawyer,

to run away
sailor on the
secretly cher-

ished an ambition to visit distant lands, and he
embraced the opportunity to ship as cabin boy
vessel about to sail around Cape Horn. At
time he was but eleven years of age, though ren

ably strong, active and self-reliant. The voyi
rough and much of the romance of sea-li
found to be "the baseless fabric of a drear
the scenes and adventures of a life on thi
wave proved irresistible to one of his stirril
perament. Upon returning to Philadelphia
met by his father, who coldly said:
"So, sir! you have returned? I suppose
sick of the sea, and are willing to ask my I
ness; and if I permit you to come home, to
wish, not as you will,-eh?"
"No, sir," answered Ned, calmly but p
"no, sir; I ask no home from you. I have
dearer home on the breast of the glorious

on a

ige was
fe was
n;" yet
e ocean
ng tem-
he was

you are
do as I

Found a

cordial friends and honest men share with me my
oaken dwelling; and, sir, here none dare strike me;
no one would strike me; they all love me too
The incident, as here given, appears in "Ned Buntline's' Life
Yarn," a serial story.-F. E. P.

-14 -

"Is this your choice, degenerate boy!

A life of

hardship and peril, shared with such associates; is
this the life which you choose in preference to one
of luxury and ease, where you would have nothing
to do but to study?"
"Father, a life of honor with these rough men,
a life of peril and hardship, in preference to a life
of luxury, where in a fit of hasty anger I may be
struck to the earth like a refractory slave; any life,
sir, but that l"
"Boy, do you know my power and my rightful
authority? Do you know that I could drag you
home tied like a felon and lock you there?"
"Sir, do so bind and bar me; but remember, no

locks, I
free as
over th
of the


s or bars can bind my
glad albatross that sh
I i I '.


e ocean, ana sleeps wnen it
wave that feeds it. Exerc
ty,' sir, if you choose; bui

and bar me well.
home; and beware,
of bolts and bars.
"Boy, it is well l
my house again. F
forever! -Not one
your palmI Now,
. joy your associationl

[love the ocear
sir, lest I seek

spirit. It is free;
ines far and wide
will on the bosom
:ise your 'rightful
t bind me strong
a! The sea is my
it again, in spite

Love like mine defies both."
You have chosen! Never enter
rom this moment I disinherit you
farthing of mine shall ever cross
sir, enjoy your 'prospects;' en-
n "

"It is well, my father-father no longer. I have
anticipated your kind disinheritance. Since you dis-
graced me with a blow, I have not borne your name.

My energies, my hopes, my ambition, and all of the
man which God has given me, will carry me alone
through the world. 'Resurgam' is my motto-in-
dependence my character! Farewell, sir; you might
have made me all you could have wished--now I
will make myself/"
The father turned sternly away and strode tip the

wharf. The
captain, who
"Ned, che
father now.
load of flour
thing, run dc
and go asho]
boy, don't be
in the hold,
down the shi

son turned tearfully around toward the
met him with open arms.
er up, my boy said he; "'ll be your
Cheer up I We sail to-morrow, with a
for Rio de Janeiro. If you want any-
)wn to my locker and get some money,
re and buy it; there's the key. Come,
down-hearted. Grief is like an anchor
where it can't be got at; it only weighs
ip, without being of any use I"

Ned brightened up; he felt
but he did so long to see his
But a truce to sadness,

that he was friendless,
sister and mother.
and ho! for the merry

The next year he enlisted as an apprentice on
board a man-of-war, says an intimate friend and fel-
low-midshipman, who thus describes young Judson's
courage and coolness in the face of danger: "He
was large for his age, strong as a horse, and preco-
cious. One day a boat of which he was coxswain
was run over by a Fulton ferry-boat on the East
river, and upset in floating ice. She drifted down


toward Governor's Island, in New York bay, and
Judson managed to get ashore with the whole crew.
Then he fainted under his injuries and was taken
back to the Macedonian unconscious. The crew
were so loud in their praises for rescuing a couple of
them, that the officers united in a request to have

him made a
sent on the c
"Then we
due to 'influE

midshipman, and President Van Buren
commission within a fortnight.
young middies whose appointments was
mnce' refused to mess with him, because

he had been a common sailor before
the way to the Gulf squadron, on
Levant, where our refusal was mad
young Judson challenged thirteen
Some withdrew their refusals and
him, but seven of the midshipmen
after the other, in Florida, in New
Havana. He didn't get a scratch
four of his adversaries were mark
the satisfaction of everybody in the

e the mast.
the ship of
e known to
of us in a


fought him, one
Orleans, and in



ed for life. To
e navy he estab-

lished the presumption that he was as good as any-
body. Perhaps one circumstance that reduced the
number of midshipmen that he had to fight was a
little exhibition on the way down. The captain, who
made a kind of pet of the boy, hung a bottle out on
the yard arm, and Tudson, at the word of command.

broke the bottle with one bullet
above it with another. That was

we ha

and c

:ut the string

the first intimation

d that he was even at that age, one of the best
in the United States. He was at this time


only fifteen years of age, a fact that I can vouch
for, being one of the seven who fought him on the
way down to the gulf."

Two years later an incid4
though trivial in itself, change
ward Judson's after life-trans
seaman to a novelist. A chanl
the command of the ship, and
like his predecessor, was a seven
disliked young Judson for his
and the influence he had gain
midshipmen. The serio-comic
may be best told in Ned Bu
words, as related to a friend wh
ing the origin of his literary ci
is as follows:




the whole of Ed-
rming him from a
had been made in
e new captain, un-
disciplinarian, and
dependent manner
among his fellow

incident referred to



io asked him concern-
ireer. The anecdote


At the time I wrote tl
the press I was a midsh
tered the navy when I w;
I had sailed round the
years old, was promoted
thirteen. I never got pre
or Congressmen. My na
perience in storms on dec
it, "before the mast."
pany of a sort of naval
men who had won their

he first letter or word for
ipman in our navy. I en-
as little more than a child.
world when I was eleven
to midshipman when I was
omoted by act of Congress
ival academy was hard ex-
k and aloft, or as they call
I was thrown in the com-
aristocracy-sons of rich
shoulder-straps by paper


- i8-

certificates. They oftentimes insulted me
fused to mess with me because I had worked


I never was a man disposed to
through love and* fawning. If

insulted m
kept out of
in the first
of the chall
would take

and re-
my way

command re-
one, two or

e, I would knock them down.
my way I would challenge then
harbor we landed. Often the
enge commanded their respect
measures to apologize before

n to

reached a port. I have, however, been forced to
command the respect of seven of my equals by meet-

ing them in mortal combat-
wounded; with the three others
unharming or unharmed, but in e
their apology.
I have thus been particular in

four of whom I
I exchanged shots,
'very case receiving

stating the manner

in which I obtained the respect of my a
cause it was on their account that my f
arose which resulted in exchanging the
pen. While these officers became
friends an event took place which prov
an enemy in the after part of the ship
of the captain. We were at the time c

Gulf, and although only fifteen years
commissary of that department

of-war that
ship entered
and while
duty it was
ship above



all the
of Vera
le for t


associates, be-
'uture trouble
pistol for the
my warmest
ed that I had
in the person
rising in the
of age I was
f the man-
lipmen. Our
Sin Mexico,
isary, whose





self went ashore to purcha,
necessaries that we purch:
e ft .

same age, tm
were of the s
that one had
divided them,
each paying
were put into
purchases on
division that t

a t

: onsprmg ot
ame size and
a small bla
then and the

a half
;he one

of th
te box
of th

se supplies. Among other
based were six pigs of the
Sthe same mother. They,
I as white as snow, except
ck spot on one leg. We
ere, each taking three and
ie purchase price. They
:es and put with our other
Ce ship. I noticed in the
the small black spot came
a a

to my share. I was very proud ot them, and gave
charge that they be well taken care of. I often
visited them and took satisfaction in pointing them
out as beauties to some of my associate middies.
On our return to Havana a terrible squall sprang
on us in the night time. The deck was swept.
When morning came it was discovered that one box
with its three pigs had been swept overboard, that a
slat of the other box had been broken of and two
of the pigs had got out and had followed the other
three. The only pig left from the deck wreck was
the one with the black spot on the leg. I ordered
the box to be repaired and the pig to be taken care
of as before. To my surprise the chief commissary
claimed the pig. I pointed out the black spot on
the leg. He claimed never to have noticed it be-
fore. I Dointed out the difference between the


boxes, and that mine was on deck and his was not.
He was as obstinate as he was dishonest, and noth-
ing but that pig would satisfy him. I was just as

_ ~ ~___


determined that he should not have it. Another
squall seemed inevitable, for I would have fought
for that pig, and was getting ready for the fray,
when a proposition was made to leave our dispute
to the captain, who was approaching, having heard
something of our altercation. I acquiesced. With
pretended sincerity he wished to hear the evidence.
On my part it was overwhelming. I proved by a
number of middies that before the storm I was in
possession of the pig with the black spot on the leg.
That the box was the same in which my three had

been kept. I also proved
who fed them. Against all
chief commissary could on]
the pig was his, without th
tiate it. Nevertheless, the
me. If he decided in my f;

the same by the scullion
this positive evidence the
ly interpose a claim that
e least proof to substan-
captain decided against
avor, no part of that pig

would go to the saloon tables, and he would get none
of it. I claimed that the decision proceeded from

his belly, not from his head or heart. I
show of full surrender; still I determined to i
eyes on the pig with the design of ultimately
my hand upon it. Fearing another storm, (
surreptitious act on my part, or at least on i

made a
ceep my
or some
ny part

of the ship, it was cunningly devised at a conspiracy
in the saloon among the chief officers, including the
captain, that the pig should be disposed of that day.
Accordingly the butcher was ordered to kill and
dress it. A banquet was to be held in the saloon
that night. I also determined that a banquet should



be held in the forward cabin, and that if roast pig

did not form the principal'
son to be held accountable4
tion that the occasion should
necessary luxuries except
borrowed or bought from
the full intention of never
determined that the luxuri
be drawn from the captain
larder and wine-room. I
passed that galley while t
knew the progress that it v
cook did. I had my guests
son, several of whom I h
whom I was now fighting

the mo
of our
in the


st expert middies to act
banquet was Ealf an hol
saloon. I again patrc

Id I should be the per-
I made every prepara-
,e a success. I had all
e, and this I begged,
e chief steward, with
ying for it, for I was
of the banquet should
nd chief commissary's
posely passed and re-
pig was roasting. I
making as well as the
the table in good sea-
fought against, all of
. I had a number of
as carvers. The time
ur earlier than the one
,lled the deck. Pass-



the galley, I saw the cook try the pig, and leave
oven door open, with a half-suppressed expres-
of satisfaction that the roasting was ended. I
only to watch my opportunity for the cook to
:nt himself to assist in the preparation of the
on table. I had not long to wait-then with a

large fi
a cold
the cat

ork I
one a

whipped the pig from the
nd instantly placed it on a

I gave the watchword,
neater or cleaner, and

satisfactory job never was
an hour was passed before

the p


to me
ig was

pan into
table in
hog, or
a more


-22 -

another half in search for it in
right one. A report was then
commissary and to the captain.
were exasperated is putting it li
made for bones, but they had j
in the gulf. The captain offered


would co
time we
up a goc
when I

every place but the
made to the chief
To say that they
ght. A search was
joined their kindred

invict the person tha
reached Havana.
,d deal of growling,
was near him. It

also to go on shore and provide f
When I' approached the gangway
the guard. I demanded by who!

stopped; he said by the captain's.
my authority from the command:
and drawing my sword, I said:
musket to my breast again I'll c
would a piece of old junk." I p
shore, did my marketing, and retu

we reached Savannah. I
written a full account of t
I entitled it the "Captain's
The story made a pretty
was printed privately, as

had, di


$Ioo for evidence
t took the pig. In
The captain had
and was especially
was my duty here
or my department.
rI was stopped by
se authority I was
I replied: "I get
r, not the captain,"
"If you raise your
ut you down as I
assed on, went on
rned. In due time
during shore hours,

he adventure with the pig.
Pig," by "Ned Buntline."
good-sized pamphlet. It
publishers were afraid of

libel suits. Neither the author nor the publisher
was known. When the captain saw the pamphlet
he was madder than when he didn't see the pig on
his table. He again offered a reward of $ioo for
the name of either the author or publisher. He
found neither. The book is now out of print, and




I would myself give $ioo for a copy of it. This is
the story of my first venture in writing, and this is
why I am called "Ned Buntline."





brought him at
lished in many
the old Knicker
Lewis Gaylord

once into Ipopularity, as it was repub-
periodicals, and finally appeared in
bocker Magazine, then conducted by
Clarke, who at the first opportunity

engaged "Ned Buntline" as a regular contributor.
Whether ashore or afloat, he thenceforth found time
to prepare thrilling romances--principally tales of
the sea, during the early portion of his literary ca-
reer-and these novels were read by a host of warm
admirers, who found the scenes as realistic as any
ever portrayed by Captain Marryatt or Fenimore

At the outbreak of the Seminole War
the adventurous spirit of young Judson
enthusiastically into the strife. Althou
teen years of age he served with valor

tion under
He record
engaged in
possible oc
killing of a

, in

Jessup, Gaines, Armistead and
d, subsequently, the delight with
the field sports of that section,

very 1

tried him
only six-
d distinc-
which he
on every

and mentioned particularly the
arge jaguar, or Southern panther,

on Key Sargo-an achievement that was alike the
envy and admiration of his associates.






URING the progress of the Seminole War
young Judson found ample opportunities,

in the

to indulge his love
venture, both on lan
tangled wildwoods"
variety of game, and
glorious field-sports of

of wild sport and ad-
d and sea. The "deep,
of Florida furnished a
Ned Buntline reveled
that region, so vividly

described in Whitehead's "Camp Fires of the Ever-
glades." To one of young Judson's active, adven-
turous nature the land appeared to be a veritable
"happy hunting ground," and his pen in after years
recorded the incidents of many sporting tours among
everglades and along shore. Under the title of
"Ducking by Wholesale" he gave the following
spirited description of a foray among the wildfowl:
In 1840 I was an Acting Lieutenant on board the
U. S. Schooner Otsego, then belonging to what was
known as McLaughlin's Mosquito Fleet, engaged in
co-operating with the army in subduing the Semi-

-- 25 -

noles in Florida.

The flag schooner, Lieut. Comdg.

McLaughlin, was the Flirt; the Wave, formerly
Stevens' yacht, was commanded by Lieutenant-now
Admiral-John Rogers, and the Otsego by passed
midshipman, Actg. Lieut. Comdg. Edmund Templar
Shubrick. Though only a young middy, I was Exe-
cutive Officer of the Otsego, wore the swab and got
the pay of a Lieutenant.
And now for the ducks. Being of light draught,
Baltimore fiat-sharp build, the Otsego was ordered
to skirt the coast closely from Cape Sable to the
mouth of the Suwanee, to attack any Indian party

seen o

n shore and to look out for
boats that had been reported
r and lead to the redskins.

some Spanish
as furnishing

It was midwinter when we anchored late one aft-
ernoon off the eastern side of the cape near an island
not then named in our charts, but known ever after
that night to us as Duck Key. The water and air
were literally dark with ducks of all kinds and sizes.
They were so thick that looking to port or star-
board, far and near, flying in vast flocks or swim-
ming about, you saw ducks, ducks everywhere. I
owned a double-barreled Manton-as good'a gun in
those days as money could buy. I just ached to take
a boat and go for those ducks, and I said so..
But Jim Eagan, our coast pilot, an old Floridian
said: "Leftenant, the moon will be full to-night, and
if you'll hearken to me, we'll have ducks enough in
one hour to-night to last the whole crew longer than


- 26 -

they'll keep, and have a hundred or two to give
away, over and above.
"As soon as it gets fairly night, thousands and
thousands of these ducks will waddle up on that little
low island there to lay over till morning. All we've

got to do is to take our biggest boat,
swivel in the bow, let every man of th
musket well charged with duck shot;
gun and I with old Betsey Ann-she
ter of a pound of shot if she takes
sail in. We'll take cover on the islan
fall, load the swivel, too, for the
handle, and when the ducks come up
on a carcass, we'll all shoot at the
I'll bet we pick up a boat load."
The olan seemed rood. and it was



teen muskets, Eagan's cannon, as
Betsey Ann, and a swivel with three
to half a pound of powder for a load,
my Manton, loaded for the occasion
ounces of shot to each barrel, and
four and a half drachms of powder.
Leaving the schooner at anchor ab

the one with a
e crew have his
you with your
carries a quar-
an ounce--and
d just at night-
boat-keeper to
as thick as flies
same time and

adopted. Six-
we called his
pounds of shot
were added to
with near two
about four or

'out half-a-mile

away we reached the island just as the moon showed
her great round face above the horizon. Hiding in
a clump of sea grapes, leaving only a boat-keeper to
tend the boat and fire the swivel, we waited.
Not long-for inside of an hour the white sand
of the island could not be seen, bright and dear,
though the moon shone upon it. It was literally cov-


ered with ducks; and the water all around the island
was literally and truly alive with them.
Guided by Eagan, every man now leveled his mus-
ket in a direction a little wide from that of the next
man; the word was passed to the boat-keeper to
stand by with his swivel, and the order was given:
"Ready, FIRE I"
Eagan and I were to shoot on the rise.
Every musket and the swivel exploded at the same
moment. Oh, heaven what a fluttering-what a
thunder-burst of flapping wings as we sent in our
charges 1
Then, in the bright moonlight, pushing of in our
boat, we went to picking up game. On shore and in
the water we found wild fowl enough to load that
barge's gunwale down to the water with. ducks.
Mallard, teal, canvas back-every kind of migra-

tory duck was there re]
dreds but apparently by
Never before or since
It was "pot-hunting" w
ducks every day-three
and General Taylor, wi
his own regiment, the

,resented, and not by hun-
have I seen such slaughter.
ith a vengeance. We had
times a day-for a week,
th the Third Artillery and
Sixth Infantry, being at

Tampa Bay, we ran in there and left them nearly a
cartload of birds.
It is not a very sportsmanlike scene to boast of, I
know, but we wanted meat-or fowl rather-and
we got it.


At the close of the war Lieutenant Judson re-
signed from the service, and went up the Yellow-
stone River in the employ of the Northwest Fur
Company. He now had a\chance such as he had
long desired to test the wild sports of the West,
and he improved the opportunity by a vigorous cru-
sade against the large game of the Rocky Moun-
tains. At that time the plains were covered with
vast herds of bison, or buffalo, affording a seemingly
inexhaustible supply, and large bands of elk were
encountered daily in the foothills. The fleet and
wary Rocky Mountain sheep, now nearly exterm-



crags and cliffs

with intermingled fear and surprise
invaders of the wild region. The an
seen dotting the prairie below in all

s gazing down
at the unusual
telope could be
directions and

the hardy adventurers when penetrating the dense
thickets occasionally found it necessary to hunt or
be hunted by the grizzly bear. Ned Buntline here
found his early dream of border life in the groove
so nobly filled by Daniel Boone, well-nigh realized.

Frequent expl
tons, "where
variety and ze
After sever
young frontier
perils, and he
a suitable field
and intellect:

oring tou:

rs into the more remote sec-

man had ne'er or rarely trod," gave
;st to the work.
al months the restless nature of the
rsman led him to seek new scenes and
turned toward the great Southwest as
. About this time he wedded a lovely
al young lady whom he met in the

sunny South, and stimulated anew to the exercise of


his literary talent he established a bright journal en-
titled Ned Buntline's Own. The new publication at-
tracted much attention, as the editor boldly criticised
the tricks and traps of gamblers and lawless char-
acters, whom he exposed without fear or favor,
thereby incurring the deadly enmity of a dangerous
As an indication of the invincible courage and dar-
ing of Ned Buntline, the following incident, pub-
lished in the columns of the old Knickerbocker
Magazine, may be appropriately given.
"Apropos of Ned Buntline: a new contributor
writing from Natchez on the 25th of November,
I843, says: By the way, Ned passed through here
this morning, on his way to Gallatin, thirty miles
distant. Being on a visit to Eddyville, Ky., a few
days since, he heard that three persons, charged with
having committed an atrocious murder near Gallatin
some time since, were in the woods in the neighbor-
hood. Arming himself, Ned 'put out' in pursuit of
them alone. ?He soon overtook them, when two of
them surrendered, after a short resistance. These
he tied to trees, and then went on in pursuit of the
other, who had absconded in the meantime. But the
fellow had too good a start; and Ned, after firing
one or two shots after him, gave up the chase. He
arrived here with his two captives last night in the
steamer, and as I said before went on to Gallatin
with them this morning. He has entitled himself
to the reward of six hundred dollars offered for
their apprehension. Just like Ned.


"The foregoing was crowded out of our last num-
ber; since the publication of which we have heard
with deep regret of the death of the young and
lovely wife of our correspondent. Such a loss will
make him feel the impotency of consolation, yet we
cannot withhold the expression of our sympathy with
him in his great bereavement. The 'Life Yarn' will
be resumed in a subsequent number."
At this time a stirring serial entitled "Ned Bunt-
line's Life Yarn," combining the autobiography of
our hero, with a thread of romance interwoven, was
running through the pages of the magazine, as in-
dicated by the editorial comment. At Nashville,

of his

his southern home, he
profession, and his rep
soon became extensive.
life was close at hand.

malicious gossip was th
enemy in one who had
led to the fatal affray
time, and known as the
cumstances of the sad
corded as follows, in t1
April, 1846:

e cause
been a

toiled steadily in his
utation as a writer of
But the darkest hour
The busy tongue of
: of creating a deadly
close friend, and this

so widely published at the
Porterfield affair. The cir-
occurrence were briefly re-
ie Knickerbocker Magazine,

"There is great reason to fear that before the
sentences which are now running from our pen shall
have been placed in type, we shall have heard of
the death of our frequent and always entertaining
contributor, 'Ned Buntline,' late Midshipman E. Z.


C. Judson, of the United States Navy.

from the
a hostile
latter wal


Judson w!
against hi
twice for e,

We gather

public journals that a difficulty recently
at Nashville (Tenn.) between our corre-
and Mr. Robert Porterfield, which led to
meeting, in which, after three shots, the
s killed, having been pierced with his an-
bullet in his forehead, just above the eye.
Its which succeeded are very revolting:
as arrested, but the excitement was so great
im, that when he was taken before the jus-
camination, it became evident that he would

be summarily dealt with.
others 'hang him I' and a
shot at him several times;
fired at him by others, and
all unhurt, ran off and hid

Some cried
brother of
; a number c
strange to sa
himself in th

'shoot him I'
the deceased
)f shots were
ty, he escaped
6e City Hotel.

Hundreds of excited persons collected around and
in the hotel, and after searching some time he was
found, and endeavoring to escape, he fell from the
third story to the porch without serious injury..
"The sheriff then took charge of him and con-
veyed him to prison, the people now seeming willing
that the law should take its course. 'After he had
been committed- to jail,' adds another and in some
particulars different account, 'in an almost dying con-
dition from his fall, at about ten o'clock at night the
mob, finding he was still alive, broke into the jail;
maimed and almost naked they threw him into the
street to be hung. He asked 'for a minister, which
was denied him; he feared not death, but requested


to be shot, and begged if there was any gentleman

post; th
back to
ing the
rage,' a

he would
and ran
erope b
the jail,
dds the

d shoot him. They took him to the
him up over the rail of an awning
roke and he fell; when he was taken
where he lies to die some time dur-
'And this horrible, infamous out-
Courier and Enquirer with signifi-

cant emphasis, 'occurred in the streets and was per-
formed by the people of Nashville.' We have been
for many months in intimate correspondence with
Mr. Judson, whom, however, we never met person-
ally. We have been made the repository of all the
circumstances of his checkered and eventful life, up
almost to the time of the occurrence above narrated.
Of these it will be our province to speak hereafter."
In the next issue of the magazine the rumor of

Ned Buntline's death was declared
the editor published an extract from

a few important details
"We are glad to be
hensions in regard to th
'Ned Buntline') had r
realized. He writes
'Nashville, April Ioth,'
as follows: 'Your April


of the afira
able to state
te death of 1%

unfounded, and
his letter giving
that our appre-
ir. Judson (our

lot at the last advices
us himself, under dal
although in a faltering
number has just reached

I hasten to tell you that I am worth ten '
yet, and hope to be ready in two or
ths, to 'go it' for 'the whole of Oregon.'
to leave here for the East in three or four


te of
d me,
I ex-

I cannot yet rise from my bed

my left arm and leg

33 -
are helpless, and my whole left side is sadly bruised.
Out of twenty-three shots, all within ten steps, I was
slightly hit by three only. I fell forty-seven feet
three inches (measured) on hard, rocky ground, and
not a bone cracked. Thus GOD told them I was in-
nocent. As GOD is my judge, I never wronged Rob-
ert Porterfield. My enemies poisoned his ears, and
foully belied me. I tried to avoid harming him, and
calmly talked with him while he fired three shots at

me, each
I saw he
but once.
can sit up
affray. I

shot grazing my
was determined t
Gross injustice
descriptions of
I shall publish a
shall not be triec

person. I did not fire till
o kill me, and then I fired
has been done me in the
the affair. As soon as I
full account of the entire
1; the grand jury have set,

and no bill has been found against 1
was raised and composed of men whe
mies on other accounts than the death
They were the persons whom I used
little paper, 'Ned Buntline's Own.'
respectable man among them. The
break; it was cut by a friend. I b<
calmly and bravely through the wh



so. at least. I

good, but rash
do I regret the

I am faint and weak
you, and must close.'
to the public without
mission of the writer.

me. The mob
were my ene-
of Porterfield.
to score in my
I saw but one
rope did not
believe I acted



Porterfield was

and hasty man; and deeply,
necessity of his death.
from this exertion in writing
We have given the foregoing
request, and without the per-
It seems but just that one

who so conspicuous an actor in the sad events here-
tofore recorded, should have the opportunity of as-
serting his innocence. It could hardly be denied
him by an enemy."
Soon after recovering from the effects of this ter-
rible ordeal, Ned Buntline removed to New York,
as affording a wider field for his literary labors, and
he soon became a notable figure in the "Old Guard,"
a term affectionately applied to the corps of gifted
contributors who rallied to the support of old Spirit
in its palmiest days. Among the bright lights of
this coterie was Dr. Alban S. Payne, who has since
become famous under the nom de plume of "Nicho-
las Spicer." Dr. Payne and Ned Buntline formed
a warm mutual friendship, which lasted through life,
and when together during their early years were
ever ready for any adventure requiring nerve and
daring. "Nicholas Spicer"-one of the noblest
membres of the 'Old Guard'-has another claim to
distinction aside from his literary talent and high
reputation as a physician. -He is the identical man-


As the writer of this has been favored with the
true version, from the gallant Spicer himself, the
history of the famous encounter is worth repeating.
The quaint and genial "Nicholas Spicer" was at
that time in the prime of manhood, one of the finest
amateur athletes of the day, and his feats of


strength and agility commanded the admiration of
his associates.
After graduating with honors, Dr. Alban S.

Payne joined the American Medical
where his humor and powers of oratory
warm favorite. About the year 1848
Association convened at Richmond,
"Spicer" attended as was his custom.

made him a
the Medical
Va., and
One night,

during the "wee sma' hours," the members were re-

turning frc
number of
the foot of
person eme
strength, a]

,m a late session, in
twenty-five or thirty

solid column to the
; and upon reaching

f Capital Hill, the door of a well-known
flew open, as the redoubtable Billy Pat-
rged therefrom and sprang out upon the
Patterson, a very Hercules in size and
appeared more formidable than usual, hav-

ing indulged heavily in "the cup that inebriates" and
being in one of his worst moods. He evidently re-
garded the company as a posse of police bent upon
his arrest, and made a bold stand.
Pausing an instant to collect his energies, Billy
Patterson dashed at the head of the column, and by
sheer strength and weight hurled the disciples of
tEsculapius in either direction as he advanced. The
streets were almost impassable, the result of heavy
rains, and the members of the profession nearest the
outer edge of the pavement were sent reeling into
the gutter. Patterson had utterly routed the front,
when "Spicer," who was .bringing up the rear, re-
leased his arms from his companion, on either side
and prepared to meet the burly antagonist.


As Patterson, filled with exultation at his appar-
ent triumph, found only one man of the rear guard
to confront him, he aimed a terrific blow at that
individual; but to his great surprise this was readily
parried, and the counter blow, a la Yankee Sullivan,
fell upon his left eye with such force, that, followed
by a second, the desperado was thrown heavily into
the street. More dead than alive, he was carried
into the restaurant, where he was restored to con-
sciousness, while the interrupted company resumed
its line of march.
The next morning "Nicholas Spicer" learned that
two policemen were on the lookout for the man who
struck Billy Patterson, and while clear in conscience,
his distaste for legal proceedings caused him to lay
the case before a friend at the hotel. Assuring him
of a speedy cessation of hostilities, this gentleman
engaged two newsboys to traverse the streets of the
city, asking every person old or young, "Who struck
Billy Patterson?" The policemen soon retired, but
the question was caught up by hundreds of lips, and
the query soon found a place in the daily journals,
whence it spread with electric rapidity through all
parts of the Union.
This is believed to have been the only fistic en-
counter in which Billy Patterson was vanquished, but
it utterly subdued the bravo. It was the first and
last one, in all probability, of Dr. Payne; yet so fa-
mous has it been rendered that many will no doubt

37 -

be pleased to learn who struck Billy Patterson.
Having given the reader an idea of "Nicholas
Spicer's" courage and skill, it may be seen that he
was a right royal companion for the gallant young
sailor, adventurer and novelist. In response to a
request from the writer, Nicholas Spicer has given

following personal recollections of Ned



I can clearly remember the circumstances attend-

ing my first meeting
with the distinguished
eler, Col. E. Z. C. Ju
whole world knows he

but few
and his
a grand
station o

knew as well

and subsequent acquaintance
novelist, sportsman and trav-
dson-"Ned Buntline." The
was chivalric, and intellectual,
as does the writer of this, his

worth, his generosity, his goodness of heart,
undying attachment to his friends. He was
type of the true sportsman-in every accep-
f the term.

He loved his friends dearly, tenderly, and was
ever ready to lend them a helping hand. He was
fearless, generous, magnanimous. At times he was
bold as a lion, at others capable of being "gentle as
a lamb." In his composition the boldness of true
manhood was happily blended with the gentleness
of woman.
A soul in which the manlier traits
And gentler, were so blended,
That none could say where these began,

- 38-

Or where the others ended
Alas! to fitly speak his worth
All words seem poor and common-
In whose large spirit Nature fused
The tenderness of a woman."
In the fall of I844, I had written a sketch-a
humorous article-for the old Spirit of the Times,

giving a glimpse of New York life as s
dant young countryman. The article w
in very complimentary terms by the
William T. Porter ("York's Tall Son'
notice to correspondents there was an

call at the office next day.
531 Broadway, corner of
cupying, through courtesy,

York's great s
young but risi
and with palp
ceeded to the
then located i
door I asked:

surgeon, Prof
ng man. I
itating heart
sanctum of

seen by a ver-
vas mentioned
genial editor,
), and in the
invitation to

I was then sojourning at
spring street, and was oc-
the same office with New
. Lewis A. Sayre, then a
dressed myself carefully,
and trembling step pro-
the Spirit of the Times,

Barclay street.



"Is Col. Bill Porter at home ?"
"Yes, sir, always at home to my friends," re-
sponded a full, hearty voice, as the "Tall Spirit"-
six foot four in stature-advanced to welcome me.
Within the rare old sanctum I found a glorious gath-
ering of talent-Henry William Herbert ("Frank
Forester"); Lewis Gaylord Clark, of the Knicker-
bocker; Lieut. Dick Meade, father of Gen. Meade
of Gettysburg fame; Henry Inman, the artist; En-

sign Edward Z.

C. Judson, lately returned from a

sea voyage; Dr. T. O. Porter, and Elliott, the por-
trait painter-all of whom were introduced, and the
acquaintance duly cemented at "Frank's" next door,
in the usual manner. Just as we were about to take a
sherry cobbler, Gen. George P. Morris, N. P. Wil-
lis, of the Mirror, and E. E. Jones, entered and
joined us. Among them all, York's Tall Son was

"the center of magnetic

popularity and
any man I ever
talk with Edw.
about Gen. Wa
Virginia, saying
Seminole War,
parted, Judson
you ever need a

your draft shall
but not the last t
so well known t

genial n
ilker K.

attraction.'" His personal
magnetism exceeded that of
Before I left I had a long
and he inquired of me all
Armistead and family, of

he had served in Florida during the
under Armistead. Just before we
said, handing me a card: "Should
friend, call on E. Z. C. Judson, and
be honored." This was the first,
ime I ever met the noble old Roman
to the reading public in later years

under the nom de plume of

Our next meeting-an
proved to be-was in S
political horizon was all
project seemed ripe for
At the solicitation of m
McCrae, of Warrenton,
romantic expedition up
real, the object of the

"Ned Buntline."

Id a most opportune one it
September, 1845, when the
aglow, and the annexation
consummation in Canada.
ly friend, George Wallace
Va., I had joined him on a
the St. Lawrence, to Mon-
trip being unknown to me

until well under way. I then learned that the elo-
quent and eccentric McCrae was bent upon impress-

ing upon our Canadian cousins the superiority of
"Benton's mint drops" over the copper coins of the
British Provinces, and the mutual benefits to accrue
from annexation with the United States.
At Montreal he made many enthusiastic converts,
and left the city in high spirits, bound for Quebec,
but on board the steamer, while en route, we formed
the acquaintance of two British officers with whom
the gallant McCrae became convivial, and finally a
quarrel seemed imminent-over the relative merits
of English and American soldiers. Several times I
quieted the conflicting elements, curbing my own
temper meanwhile, until finally, as McCrae stepped
out of the room, in response to a call from a friend,
one of the officers, Capt. A., sneeringly said, sotto
voce: "See, the Yankee coward is sneaking away."

did not overhear


final insult, following close upon a
Jackson's courage, stung me to frel
to meet the boastful Britishers, c
any weapons, there or elsewhere.
aback at this, but handed me thei

up on deck. Upon arriving at Quebec
myself stopped at the Albion Hotel, an
during the day over the historic plains
we returned and found two mutual fric
us-Wm. Henry Tyler, of West Point,
Judson, who, as correspondent of
bocker, was visiting Canada to witne


remark, but this
reflection on Gen.
nzy, and I offered
ne or both, with
They were taken
r cards and went

McCrae and
d after a ride
of Abraham,
ends awaiting
and E. Z. C.
the Knicker-
ss her grand

Just as I passed in to supper a most elab-



orately dressed officer handed
lenge from Capt. A- of 1
I wrote a prompt acceptance,
soldier to my friend Judson,
liminaries. At my earnest re<
ised, in event of my falling by
that my parents should not b
killed in a duel, but that t
"Drowned in the St. Lawrei
pledged to secrecy, and no
event ever reached my family
ter, written by Dr. Sewall to 1
of Jamaica, L. I., explains t
can possibly do:

me a voluminous chal-
the Royal Guards, and
referring the doughty
for arranging all pre-
quest my friends prom-
my antagonist's bullet,
e informed I had been


" .

A **

ice Kiver." All were
word or rumor of the
y. The following let-
his friend Dr. Carman,
he affair better than I


Nov. 4, 1845.

MY DEAR DOCTOR: I was surgeon to Dr. Payne in his
meeting with Capt. A--, Royal Guards, on the 17th day
of last September. This fight occurred in a secluded spot,
not far from Falls of Montmorency. The American party
consisted of the principal, Payne; second, E. Z. C. Judson,
Hon. G. W. McCrae, Lieut. Wm. H. Tyler and myself,
acting as surgeon. We found the English party on the
ground, having arrived, however, only a few moments ahead
of us. They consisted of five officers with their valet.
Imagine Pavne. slight. graceful. but tall and erect-a man-

ner so unassuming and
taken for a fifteen-year
stern determination in

-F S

modest that he might have been mis-
-old boy-yet cool, calm, serene, with
his eyes, carelessly toying with his

pistol (although to the observer it was evident he had
handled a pistol before), confronted by a large, powerfully
built man, apparently fifty years of age, dressed in full uni-
form. He is in manner theatrical, and handles his weapo I

- 42 -

in that style. Stern determination can be seen on the coun-
tenances of both these men. Neither is going to yield until
badly hurt. They are both waiting for the word-the try-
ing moment has come. E. Z. C. Judson steps forward, and
in a clear, manly tone says:
"Gentlemen, are you ready? One, two, -" but at the
word "two" there is a simultaneous report, a moment of in-
tense suspense; the smoke rolls away, and there stands our
friend, apparently unhurt, while Capt. A-- is seen to
stagger back, and is caught in the arms of his second, and
carried to the rear, where he is laid in the shade of a group
of trees.
A few moments pass, Payne still standing in his tracks,
and he says: "Judson, ask if Capt. A--desires another
fire." The question is asked, and the answer comes back,
"He does not."
Then, said Judson: "Is there any gentleman on the ground
who doubts Gen. Jackson's courage?"
"There is none," was the reply.
Said Lieut. Tyler: "Is there any gentleman who doubts

the courage
who doubts

of the officers of the American army?"
replied the officers.
then inquired: "Is there any gentleman present
the courage of the Yankee nation?"
was the response.
said Judson, "the sport will have to stop from

want of material-and we had better get away from here."

surgeon for both parties-the


thinking one necessary. The ball struck the fifth
left side of the Captain, glanced, and I cut it (
der the latissimus dorsi muscle. Capt. A--
Payne was hit at all, but the Captain's ball str
thigh, ranged upward and outward, and I cut
the trochauls major. I can say in truth the con

friend under fire was capital, superb.

ilishman not
h rib on the
)ut from un-
never knew
uck his right
it out over
duct of your

I never saw more

I acted

courteous behavior, or a stronger desire to fight than the
Americans evinced that day. Indeed, their gentlemanly con-
duct and desire to fight seemed to strike the English officers
so forcibly that their feelings became those of admiration in
place of resentment.
I applied a strong, hot poultice to Payne's wound that
night, which took all the soreness out, and the next day he
was walking around as if nothing had happened. Not so
the Captain. He was laid up three weeks for repairs. A
reconciliation took place before we left the grounds, and we
all returned to Quebec together.
Yours truly,

My third memorable meeting with Ned Bunt-
line-not to mention the many social ones of minor
importance-was in the winter of 1845. At this
period it was dangerous after nightfall to pass
through that notorious portion of Gotham known as
the "Five Points," unless protected by policemen.
Not only robbery, but foul murders were freque i,
and the locality was carefully avoided by belated
citizens. One evening I decided to attend a main,
or "battle royal," on the Bowery, and not wishing
to go alone I walked down to the Broadway House,
near Mitchell's Olympic Theater, thinking I would
meet some of the Spirit family at this popular hos-
telry. As I entered the door the first man I met
was Ned Buntline, who, ever ready for an adven-
ture, gladly consented to go with me. After enjoy-
ing the sport to a very late hour, we set out on our
return. As we neared the Five Points we could see a


crowd gathering on the right-hand sidewalk.

seemed to gather from the sound
the pavement, and from their move
dent they were bent on stopping us

cross over on the
them, but Ned s
and boldly right
hostile demonstra
When within
made a rush at u,

left-hand side, wal
aid: "No! let us
toward them. If
ttion we must fire
fifteen feet of tl
s. Simultaneously


of our steps on
ments it was evi-
. I proposed to
Ik fast, and flank
advance rapidly
f they make any
right into them."
iem, the rascals
our pistols were

fired, three men were seen to fall, and the rest scat-
tered in every direction. We reached Broadway,
and there separated, the lion-hearted Ned going to
the Broadway House, and I to my lodgings farther
up town-53 x Broadway. About I2 M. next day I

was in
Five F
I have
did as

Dr. Sayre's office when

him to come to see
points He invited m
to dress the wounds
that sought to take r
always thought that
much to reform the F


a messenger arrived
wounded man at the
o go with him, and I
one of the miserable
life the night before.

Jed Buntline and myself
ive Points as any of the

home missionaries in that section.



ED BUN LIN 'S career in Gotham was a
succession of string incidents, for his rest-
less and dari nature could never be con-
tent with the steady routine that marks the
life of ordinary mortals. The excitement
of the chase or the "clamorous crowd" was as nec-
essary to him as food to the famished. He was es-

sentially a
medium of
less elemer
directly an
of the cunn
nal was th
often in d
the part o
sented in 1

man of action and impulse. Through the
Ned Buntline's Own he scourged the law-
it of the metropolis, and was the means
Id indirectly of bringing to justice many
ling rascals of the city. The breezy jour-

ie tall
f the
the r<

k of the town, a
of assaultt with
shrewdest memb



Lnd the editor was
intent to kill," on
ers at large repre-
Ned Buntline was

aware that his life was eagerly sought by scores of
miscreants, but as the danger increased his spirits
rose, for he believed that

46 -
A single hour of honest strife
Is worth a year of peaceful life.
He possessed an untamable and dauntless spirit
that would have been more in keeping with the age
of chivalry than the prosaic era in which he lived.
He was a modern knight errant, hedged in with cus-
toms uncongenial and formal, yet warring vigor-
ously against the code of the uncoo guid and rigidly
righteous," while assailing the vices of the metrop-
olis on the other hand. Thus he was often between
two fires, and cared no more for the assailants on
one side than the other. It has been said of him,
and with justice, that he never feared a foe nor for-
sook a friend.
One of his most intimate acquaintances, Mr. E.
Locke Mason, who was associate editor of Ned

Buntline's Own,-and w
Judson's widow-thus al
and eccentricities of the
one continuous series of s
cradle to the grave, and
off the coverlets from hi
against the rigid rules of
nestness of a baby mona
stations, riots, shootings,
north and south-travels,
ventures and a thousand
acter, go together to spic
dish for lovers of wild sc

ho, in i888, married Col.
ludes to the characteristics
novelist: "Ned's life was
;ensations, almost from the
I verily believe he kicked
is little cradle, and fought
decorum with all the ear-
rch. Sensations upon sen-
speeches, duels, prisons--
, dramas, yachts, wars, ad-


condiments of

e a life that will

this char-
furnish a

enes among Indians, rough

experiences at sea and startling episodes ashore. I
am familiar with Ned's early history, and more par-


ticularly his private life, if he had any, which I
doubt. He was the hero of a hundred fights and
the victim of a hundred wrongs. The world, always

lyze t
as all

critical, judges of results and does not ana-
he motives of men. Ned's follies and foibles
not concealed by any mask of hypocrisy, but
all on the surface, to be seen and criticised,
his inherent goodness and tenderness of heart
be appreciated by the favored few. He was,
knew, careless and reckless in his habits. He
saved a book, a sketch, a scrap or a story of

his own composition as long as I was his companion
and correspondent. Moving constantly-in war or
peace-new homes romantic abodes; fishing or hunt-
ing orating on temperance with a sad experience of
the opposite extreme, fighting Mexicans, Indians or

ever he

on the plains
Shores; anywh<
identified with
happened to
loved pictures


, among the miners on the
ere, everywhere-leaving all
his every movement, when-
move. The mementoes of


equipage, guns, pistols,
boxes innumerable-all,

with a fri
his gun, o
ters, gifts
fact/ every
ture, left
manner o


:nd, or where
spent his eloq
from institute

f relatives, camp tools
swords, clothes trunks
all dropped behind or
he last plied his pen,
luence. Flags, banners
ons he had originated

, let-

s he had .benefited; household effects, in
r personal effect, of whatever name or na-
to fate, while he pushed on in the restless
f one who had a mission to perform, ind



would accomplish it at'all hazards,

f he came out

naked in the end. 1
friends, to history, to I
the data and incidents
added to what is of pu
a remarkable book."
guarded as a graphic pei
master hand.
Perhaps the most in
Buntline's sentiments i


of his
blic r<

was lost to us,
ity-all or nearly
sensational life;
record, would have
foregoing may

to his
all of
I made
be re-

i-picture, in miniature, from a

tense and unalterable of Ned
vas his radical Americanism.

Ruling passion at one time overshadowed all
rs, and the outcome was the organization of the
American party, more generally known as the
ow Nothings," of which the irrepressible Ned
one of the leading spirits and prime movers.

Ihe party
faction figl
acter were
eign eleme
the radical

was an important tactc
hts of the most bitter an
common during its ascer
nt assailed the new part
Americans retaliated in

Buntline was the lion of the da
tongue exercised a potent influence
ways a ready speaker, he rose to
passioned eloquence when advoca
"America for Americans," and hi
constant demand as the orator of
such occasions he was frequently ir


in politics, and
relentless char-
lancy. The for-
vigorously, and
ike spirit. Ned
His pen and

in the cause. Al-
the height of im-
ting the principle
s services were in
his party. Upon
iterrupted and de-

nounced by the foreign element, and bloodshed
seemed almost unavoidable at times, yet the speaker
never wavered for an instant.

-49 -
While making a speech at Portland, during this
exciting period, he had a ludicrous encounter with a
huge foreigner, who, backed by a shouting mob of
followers, seemed bent on silencing him by intimida-
tion or by force. Jumping upon the.platform, with
an axe-helve in hand, the leader approached Judson
and told him he could not go on. Mr. Judson very
coolly asked his name, which was given. Then he
"Have you been naturalized?"
"Yes, I've been naturalized," shouted the dis-
"Well, I don't believe you have been baptized,"
said Judson; "in the name of the stars and stripes,
take water"-and before the astonished Bombastes
Furioso could resist he was thrown headlong in the
river which flowed beneath the rear of the platform.
It was such a surprise to the crowd that it com-
pletely demoralized them, giving the speaker's
friends a chance to rally to his assistance. The
speech was finished without further disturbance.
In 184 8 the strife reached its climax, when Ned

.. ~ v ----- - - - --- - -
Buntline was indicted and convicted as
principals in the celebrated Astor Place
ing out of the bitter feud between the
and the Know Nothings. Judge Charl
sentenced him to one year in the penitent
he cheerfully served his term, while still
his crusade against Judge Daly and

one of the
riot, grow-
es P. Daly
iary, where
keeping up
other anti-




the 'columns

-50 -

newspaper. His release from imprisonment on
Blackwell's Island was celebrated by an enthusiastic
ovation on the part of his friends and admirers. Six
white horses, harnessed to a gorgeous open bar-
ouche, drew him to his home near Abingdon Square,
and the streets were thonged with men and boys who
cheered him vociferously, while a cannon thundered
forth welcome, and a mighty brass band played
"Hail to the Chief" as the cortege drew up to the
square. A number of eulogistic speeches rounded
out the long to be remembered reception to Ned
Buntline-the idol of young America, then as in
later years.
Contemporary with the so-called Know Nothing
party-though entirely distinct as an organization,
and having no political significance or affiliation-
was the Patriotic Order Sons of America. later rec-

ognized as a society of va
strength. This patriotic
mary objects "the inculcati
ciples; the opposition to
state interests in the Unit
cultivation of a fraternal
the Constitution of the Un

gation of fr<
the founders.
and prior to,
principally if
the outbreak

ist influence
order, havi
ion of pure

and increasing
ing for its pri-
American prin-

foreign interference with
:ed States of America; the
love; the preservation of
lited States, and the propa-

re education," was first organized in
in 1847, and Ned Buntline was one of
The progress of the order was slow,
the late war the Camps were confined
not wholly to the Middle States. At
of the war a general enlistment of the

-5I -

mb a

members compelled temporary suspension; but in
i866 it was reorganized upon a more substantial
basis, and its development has since been phenom-
enal. To this organization the chivalrous Ned
Buntline gave his heart and energies, and was ever a
most devoted believer in its cardinal principles, as
set forth in the preamble:
Whereas, The experiences of all ages and all countries dis-
tinctly showeth, that popular liberty-born amid the din of
battle, baptized in patriot blood, and rocked by the rude
storms of civil strife-demands for its preservation, against
the rage of party spirit, the wiles of ambition, and the stern
arm of power, the undivided love of all its votaries and the
firm determination of all its friends, in an internal struggle
with all its foes.
The history of the world most plainly proves that it is
the business of one generation to sow the seed of which an-
other reaps the harvest, be it of grain or taxes, of good or
Now, therefore, we, the undersigned, Sons of America-
children of its soil, reared beneath the shadow of its flag,
loving it as none other can love, and having an interest in
its future welfare, nearer, truer, deeper than all mankind
beside, do hereby associate ourselves into an Order for the
purpose of maturing ourselves in the knowledge and encour-
aging each other in the practice of our rights and duties as
citizens of a country in which we are called to exercise
among our fellow men the common rights of sovereignty. In
which act of association we severally pledge ourselves to the
observance and support of the laws of the land, and regu-
lations of this body, as becomes the sons of freemen, willing
to submit to the restraints of social order, and acknowledg-
ing no other bonds but those of duty to our God, our coun-
try, and ourselves.


_I _


While engaged in editing Ned Buntline's Own, in

the South and
of divers kinds
Judson continue

ing no

East; and ami
to which he t
ed to publish,

,vels of the kind that

id the

plume a familiar household word
citing fiction. To one unfamiliar
of literary labor, and his capac
work, the prolific character of hi
little short of marvelous. When
ing a new story for the press, he
astonishing rapidity, and scarcely

his task
A fri
such an
plots we
plied, "I
hours, b
As to n
I know
to do?
good on
is the tl
bound b
of it, an
ter who
as I can

" other occupations
I his attention, Mr.
time to time, stirr-
made his nom de
to all lovers of ex-
* with his methods
ity for continuous
s writings must be
engrossed in writ-
plied his pen with
knew any rest until

was completed.
end once inquired how he managed to do
amount of literary work, and asked if his
:re carefully prepared in advance. He re-
once wrote a book of 61o pages in sixty-two
ut during that time I scarcely ate or slept.
ny method-I never lay out a plot in ad-
I shouldn't know how to do it, for how can
what my people may take it into their heads
First I invent a title, and when I hit on a
e I consider the story about half finished. It
thing of prime importance. Then I take a
ook of blank paper, set my title at the head
id begin to write about the fictitious charac-
is to be the hero of it. I push ahead as fast
i write, never blotting out anything I have








a correction or




--53 -

manuscript you

see that the

pages are clean,

with no erasures-no interlineations. If a book
does not suit me when I have finished it, or at any
stage of its progress, I simply throw it in the fire,
and begin again without any reference to the dis-
carded text. When I speak, as I frequently .do on

.. -C---

made famous by him, the adventures and scenes of
his creation."

political topics, temperance, or any other subject, I
talk straight on, as I write, without notes or any
previous preparation."
Many of his romances appeared in the columns
of the New York Mercury, the Knickerbocker
Magazine, and his own periodical, and the greater
portion of these were afterward published in book
form, to meet the demand of the public-always
eager to read Ned Buntline's charming sea tales, and
equally thrilling novels of border life. One of his
friends, Commodore L. A. Beardslee-better known
to the sportsmen of America over his signature of
"Piseco"-says of the influence and impressive nat-
ure of these faithful pictures of life at sea: "Time
after time, when passing through some of the vicissi-
tudes of sea-life, I have recalled, by a flash of mem-
ory-as though I myself had been there before-
some of his descriptions which fitted. I -have re-
called, in gales at sea, in the rivers and jungles of
Africa, of Central and South America, and when
cruising in the Caribbean Sea, along the Isle of
Pines. Tortucas. and other buccaneerine resorts


Another gentleman, now a prominent patron of
literature and art, relates that in early youth, having
read nearly all the sensational tales of the prolific

writer, he once enjoyed the
gazing upon the novelist,
school-mates that he "had
awe and admiration of his
ored by a passing glimpse

and on
seen Ned
fellows fo
of their

ble pleasure of
informing his
Buntline," the
r one thus fav-
hero and idol,

knew no bounds. For many days after he was
acknowledged leader among his playmates, who
garded him as one that had seen a supernatural
ing--the great and only Ned Buntline.






Where the silvery gleam of the rushing stream
Is so brightly seen o'er the rocks dark green,
Where the.white pink grows by the wild red rose
And the blue bird sings till the welkin rings.

Where the red deer leaps and the panther creeps,
And the eagles scream over cliff and stream,
Where the lilies bow their heads of snow,
And the hemlocks tall throw a shade o'er all.
Where the rolling surf laves the emerald turf,
Where the trout leaps high at the hovering fly,
Where the sportive fawn crops the soft green lawn,
And the crows' shrill cry bodes a tempest nigh--
There is my home-my wildwood home.

Where no step intrudes in the dense dark woods,
Where no song is heard but of breeze and bird;
Where the world's foul scum can never come;
Where friends are so few that all are true-
There is my home-my wildwood home.
-Ned Buntline.

- 56 -


and formality
opportunity to
to the writer, s



ly chains to one
; nature, and it is

a sojourn of a fe
he began to chafe u
of city life, and to

civilization were
f Ned Buntline's
ot surprising that
w years in New
nder the restraint
cast about for an

return to the wilderness. In a letter
several years ago, he remarked that he
A.*.* I -

no love ror cities, but was always nappiest
far removed from civilization, surrounded by
Is and waters, where the carol of birds, the
per of the breeze, and the roar of the cascade,
he sweeter music to his ear than all the sym-

phonies of Beethoven. His natural dista
city life became intensified during his resid
New York and Philadelphia, as the convivia
there formed came near wrecking the s
woodsman, and he determined to break awa
the dangerous surroundings and influences.
To think was to act with Ned Buntline,
quietly "folded his tent like the Arab, and as
stole away," to the wilds of the Adirondack

then known to the public under

retreat (
and few
dise of
vided hi
of field



The region was

f the visionary "old ma
were aware of the fact
fish and game. Upon

Ned was once more in

,ste for

lence in
1 habits
ly from

and he

the name of John
famous only as the
n of Ossawatomie,"
that it was a para-
reaching this wild
his element, and di-

s time pretty equally between the enjoyment
sports and the writing of sensational stories



- 57

for the press. Ti
in the wilderness,
Nest," a romantic
his little poem of
Eagle Lake, one o
Mountain lakes.

the lakes
now bear
a prince,
knight of

and stre
and in

he spot selected for his hermitage

which he christened
c retreat, glowingly
that title-was near
f the three now know
He gave the place
ams in that region th
lis humble cabin lived

entertaining his


friends wh<

'The Etgle's
described in
the bank of

n as
e na
I as

the Bl
mes th
sited tl

s, with the proverbial hospitality of a true
the trigger.

Mr. Chauncey )Hathorn, who has long been fami-
liar with almost every phase of Adirondack life; fur-
nishes the following brief description of Ned Bunit-
line's first appearance in that region, and the circum-
stances which led him to make it his home:

"In the fall of
from Saratoga, vi
cursion, intending
at what is now E
house and clearing
ing purposes, we
party returned ho
remained with two

I856, I,

with a party of friends

sited the woods for a hunting ex-
to remain some time, and located
:agle Lake. Finding there a log
which had been made for lumber-
occupied it by permission. The
me about New Years day, and I
woodsmen, one of whom had been

a guide for Ned at Lake Piseco some time before.
On our return to camp one day we found Ned, with
a party he had picked up at Glens Falls. They had
made their way in with a team on the rude road.
When we come in Ned made himself known, and I
said to him: 'I am glad to meet you. I know you


well, having
subscriber to
ever after he
"The place

read all your I
Ned Buntline'
was a firm and
where we were

was sc

and was also a
From this time
ion after offered

for sale, and he
who sold it to hii
remained a week
in charge of the
spring, to make i
After his return
companies me to
ing me to soon
his guest as lor
housekeeper, and
comely girl, Mar
and soon afterwal
died. A few eve

lost no time i
n at a modern
and then went
place until he
Lt his literary
I was called
the outskirts
return and li

n finding the owner,



kg as I wished.
I recommended
rie Gardiner, wh
rd married. Bef4


price. His party
t, Ned leaving me
would return in the
1 mountain home.
me, and Ned ac-
the woods, urg-
with him and be
-He desired a
to him a bright,
lom he employed
ore I returned she

mark the resting place of

the mother and child at the Eagle's Nest.
"My health being poor, from close confinement to

the spring
where Ne
two eagle
the house
Their clo

I decided to go again to the woods, and in
g of 1859 I made my way up to the Lakes,
!d gave me a cordial greeting. There were
.s that made their nest each year opposite
on the lake. and we never disturbed them.



home the Eagle'


s Nest,

him, and he named his
the sheet of water,

Eagle Lake. It is about one mile long, and a lovely
lake. The one below, and the last of the chain, he
named, Utawanna, which signifies sunshine. Upon

naming this lake he composed some beautiful lines,




long s
he wo
so, I

nd dollars per year, but after completing a
erial story or fulfilling a literary engagement,
'uld often indulge in a period of dissipation-
h he would strive vigorously to conquer the
ing weakness, and finally succeeded in doing
believe, and became a strong temperance ad-

"The natives of the
wonderful man. His
desperate encounters

country looked upon him as a
scars and wounds attested the
he had engaged in, and won-

only a portion ot which I now remember, namely:
Where the swift trout leapeth freely,
Where the wild rose blushing blossoms
Where the red deer stoops to drink,
On its mossy covered brink;
Not a human dwelling near it-
Tris a gem in living green-
Utawanna, Queen of waters,
In thy heavenly silver sheen.
"At this time Ned was writing stories for the
New York Mercury, and Mr. Cauldwell, the senior;
editor, made us a visit, and I became well acquainted
with him. The editor and publisher was a warm ad-
mirer of Ned Buntline, and paid him liberally, as the
public demand for his wild and fanciful stories made
a great circulation for the Mercury. He wrote
short stories for other papers, under various signa-
tures, one of his pseudonyms being "Ethelbert, the
Wanderer." His income from his writings, when he
was faithful to his work, would amount to several

--6o -

derful stories were told of his courage and prowess
-which were in truth remarkable. He was very

fond of shooting and fishing.

abundant, and might oft
feeding in day time. He
day, but at night, after
would do his writing whe
post office established at
employed a mail carrier

Wild deer

en be seen from
wrote but little
a drink of str(
n all was quiet.
his Eagle's Ne
to come in on

were very
i his door,
during the
ong coffee,
He had a
st, and he
foot each

week, a distance of twenty-eight miles, and change
the mails.
"In 1860 Ned made a trip to New York, leaving

me to look after his home, and not long after a
messenger came to ask me to meet the irrepressible
Ned, and assist him in bringing home a wife he had
just married. I met them, and it fell to my lot to
take the bride to her home in a boat, while Ned
went with the teamster around the road. The lady
at once began to question me in regard to her future

home of which she had formed
tic idea-apparently expecting
the wilderness. As mildly as
clearer view of the cabin home,
to describe the beautiful scene

a somewhat roman-
a find a mansion in
possible I gave a
taking especial care
ry, and the woman

gracefully accepted the situation. She was good
looking and intelligent, but the marriage proved an
unhappy one, and trouble soon commenced which
only ended when Ned left for the war.
"Ned Buntline had some excellent traits of char-
acter. His friendship was fervid and sincere, he

- 6i -

despised gambling
would never employ
his presence."

fault, he re

and profane language, and
any one who would use it in

generous and hospitable almost to a
quired due respect should be shown on

the part of his guests, and certain
be complied with. There must be
deer on or across his premises, and
would be entertained at the Eagle's
that one of the guides, Alvah Dunr
he should set his hounds after deer
Ned Buntline's home at the first

made the threat that
would shoot the man
him. This threat was
after detected Alvah ci-
at once intercepted him.

them to heel
shot one of tl
whistled unc
truder that
if he were n
at a rate of
that region,




in case of
who should
repeated tc

simple rules must
no hounding of
no game butcher
i Nest. It is said
ling, boasted that
in the vicinity of
opportunity, and
Interference he
attempt to stop
Ned, who soon

ossing the little domain, and
Two of the guide's hounds
foreseeing danger, he called

. Ned very coolly raised his
he dogs so close to Alvah that
comfortably near, then warne
another bullet would be ready
ot out of sight in five minutes
from view within one minute
speed never before equalled b
and he was never anain kno


rifle and
the bullet
d the in-
r for him
s. Alvah
i, running
iv man in

wn to set

foot on the domain of "Ned Buntline, the terrible."
Another incident, related by an intimate friend,
indicates the spirit of true sportsmanship and love

of fair play, on the part of the rare old woodsman.

One evening two skiffs were
ing, and the occupants-two
men, accompanied by their g
ing accoutrements on shore, 4
in a pleasant night at the Ea|
of the cabin came down and
hunters. From the bow of c
saddles of a deer, and espyi
asked where they were shot.

scious pride the young s;
added that a few more (
previous, all by floating.


rowed up to his land-
wealthy young sports-
aides,-put their shoot-
depending upon putting
gle's Nest. The owner
I welcomed the belated
:ach boaJ protruded the
ing them Ned Buntline
With a glow of con-
men informed him, and
had been killed the day
There are they?" asked

Ned. "Oh! they were does and a fawn an
left them on the bank as we had no-" "Hold
cried the veteran woodsman at this point, inter
ing the speaker, and directing the guides to r
the boat he compelled the game butchers to

other quarters. Entreaties
boats were pushed off he d
occupants on the enormity
fair sportsmanship which
bered ever after.

d we
[ on,"

were in vain, and as the
delivered a lecture to the
of their offence against
they doubtless remem-

The novelist had no cause to complain of monot-
ony while living in the great North Woods of New
York. Adventures seemed to follow each other
with surprising frequency, and he found his rifle con-
venient for almost daily use. One of his exploits
he recorded as follows, under the title of



It was the winter of 1858. I was up in my hunter's cabin
on Eagle Lake, the second of the Blue Mountain trio of
crystal beauties. Cold was no name for the weather. The ice
froze to over two feet thickness in November. By the first
of January it was near four feet through, as we found when
we cut holes through which to fish for salmon trout. Thirty
to forty degrees below zero was the average.
Yet there came a sudden thaw in January-it only lasted
a couple of days, but it left the deep snow crusted heavily
and the lakes a glare of smooth ice as soon as the cold was
The settlers were few and far between in those days--
most of them trappers and guides by profession, and such a
thing as "crusting" deer or moose was unheard of. The
backwoodsmen were as honest and manly as they were brave
and true.
One day in January, my hounds, chained up in their warm
dog-house, made a great fuss, and looking out on Eagle Lake
in front of my log dwelling I saw a noble buck, a regal
giant of the forest, attempting to cross its glittering surface.
He was over half way across, slipping, falling and sliding
on, when I went out. He did not seem to fear me, though
he must have seen me. I believe the old fellow knew no
white man would shoot him out of season, and was actually
coming in for protection. For as I looked at hikn I heard a
series of howls across the lake, and knew that a big gang of
wolves was on the trail of the deer.
I hurried in and got my rifle, an Ogden double-barrel,

made in Oswego, carrying
By the time I had got it
rushed down to a clump
noble buck was within two
doing his uttermost to get
most up to him.

a 32 to the pound conical I
and my ammunition ready,.
of cedars on the lake-side,
hundred yards of the shore
there, for the wolves were


Two or three tremendous leaps brought him within easy
rifle range, one hundred yards, but the accursed wolves, at
least twenty in number, were on him, and in a second he
was down, with every jaw fastened in him thqt could find a
place to bite.
Oh! if I had then had the glorious "Old Reliable" that
now stands in one corner of my sanctum, I believe I could
have killed every wolf in the gang before they knew what I
was doing, while, they, half-starved, were gorging on their
As it was, while they were plunging, growling and tear-
ing the poor animal to pieces, I sent in shot after shot, as
fast as I could load and fire.
It was not until nine of their number were dead or dis-
abled that the wolves found out they were in an unhealthy
neighborhood, and several of these limped away when they
went at last, leaving a bloody trail on the glittering ice.
In that brief time that deer was so nearly devoured that
you couldn't find a bone that was not broken, or a bit of
meat big enough for a bulldog's swallow. And some of the
dead wolves had their hides torn so badly they were almost
worthless by the numerous jaws of their mates in the blind,

mad struggle for a feast.
I did not make much o
killing them and avenging
bounty on wolves, though
,panthers shot a little later
Ah, what a change fron
full of deer; moose, though
trout, speckled and salmon
utes' fishing any time, an
half dozen hearty men fo:
Shot-guns were never
weapons, and a red rag o
a whole book of flies, for

my wolf hunt besides the fun of
the noble buck. There was no
got ten dollars a head on three

1 then and now! The woods were
;h not plenty, were often seen, and
n, were so plenty that twenty min-
d almost anywhere, would feed a
r the day.
heard of-rifles were our only
r a bit of venison just as good as
all practical purposes, in trouting.

--65 -

It makes me sick to go there now. A lover of Nature and
Nature's gifts shudders at the advance of----dudes and their
fancy accessories. Hunters and anglers go beyond civiliza-
tion, if they know themselves.
On another occasion he very narrowly escaped
with his life, when his 'cabin burned to, the ground
one bitter ci ld winter's night, as related in a com-
munication to one of the *sporting journals a few
years later. Of this experience he gives a very vivid
description, entitled,

I had gone up for my Fall deer shooting, and finding a
hunter's cabin, evidently long unused, near the head of In-

as m
aid I

River, I made up
uch of it as I could
his hundred and t
b had such stores as
: deep. The cabin
y ledge, was made

lock bark, and had a di
couple of split slabs, sta

my mind to test a Winter there or
stand. I had an old guide who could
wenty pounds at a time, and by his
I needed packed in before the snows
, built against and partly under a
of spruce logs, covered with hem-
oor, rude, but sufficient, made of a
ending upright. Windows were not

needed-there were air holes enough between the log
spite the moss stuffing we put in.
Inside I had a small sheet-iron camp-stove, which a
be made red-hot with a double handful of birch bark.
side, old Birch, my guide, cut and piled about twelve o
teen cords of birch, beech and maple wood of large size
camp-fire when I wanted it. There was plenty of dead

s de-

r fif-
for a

ber lying around loose on the banks of the little lake near

*The Turf, Field and Farm (1882), when the offices of the
well-known sportsmen's journal were burned in the fire which
consumed the old World building on Park Row, New York.


camp, so I had no danger of a freeze-out. I had snow-shoes
to travel with when I desired, and when he left Birch was
to come in every two weeks to bring my mail and carry out
manuscript, for I worked there, as I always do wherever I
am,, penfully.
For the first six weeks after Winter set in I had a glor-
ious time. Hermit life just suited me. I had plenty to eat
and drink, good reading matter, and all of out-doors to my-
self when I wanted exercise. Writing sketches and stories
filled up the intervals.
Almost every night I had a concert. A gang of wolves
played the principal part. A panther solo made the varia-
tion. I was happy. No temptation to deviate from the
rules of health and morality appeared. I was at church every
day. The blue arch of heaven was its dome, the great pines
and maples and birch trees formed its columns, the lofty
hills, the voiceless lake, the singing rills which never froze,
its lessons-the contemplation of the God-created forest its
But I went to sleep and pleasant dreams one night at an
early hour to wake at or near midnight under a light as

brilliant as a salamander could desire.
my slender stove pipe must have fallen
roof back of the straw covering in front,
fierce north wind that was blowing mos
life, and when I woke fire was above
for fire had dropped from above on my
ablaze as I sprung to the door.
I had only time to snatch my rifle,

and snow-shoes from a corner not
when the hut was all ablaze.
I dressed out on the crust, with
low zero, but did not feel the cold
I was in my thick woolen clothes,
sins on, I began to think of many

Some spark from
ion the half rotten
under the rocks. A
t likely fanned it to
and all around me,
bedding, and it was

ammunition, clothes

yet afire and get outside,

the themometer away be-
in the excitement. After
and my moose-skin mocca-
things inside that I might


have got out and needed. But it was too late. They had
gone where your noble library has gone, to ashes.
Sadly I looked on the fire till it smouldered down, keeping
warm as I sat on my unconsumed wood-pile, and then by" the
early light of the morning star I laid my course for the little
hamlet of Lake Pleasant, about thirty miles away. I was
traveling "light" on an empty stomach, snow-shoeing was
fair, and I got there to dinner.
I never tried complete hermit life since. I was then and
there cured of all desire for it.






OON after the outbreak of the late Civil
War, the gallant Ned Buntline, whose love
for the stars and stripes had been tested on
the battlefields of Mexico, and the earlier
Seminole war, again enlisted under the
Union flag, and served with credit and distinction in
the hotly-contested battles of the terrible, and, as it
has been termed, "irrepressible conflict." His for-
mer experience in border warfare, his intrepid cour-
age, coolness and daring combined to fit him admira-

bly for
and it


the position which was soon
of "chief of scouts," with the
dashing spirit and manner of


I his soldiers wil
is recorded th
by the brave bo
victorious by
r numbers. Hi


h confidence
at his nerve

assigned to him
rank of colonel.
Colonel Judson
and admiration,
and gallantry,

rdermen under his command,
unexpected assaults against
: was essentially a fighter of

the hurricane order, and re-enacted on several oc-
casions, though on a smaller scale, the impetuous,


resistless charges so characteristic of Sheridan and

Custer. On the other hand, whec
strategy were required, Colonel Juds
the emergency, and his knowledge of
guerilla mode of warfare often enable
the ravages of the vindictive fighters
During the terrible strife Colonel

re caut
on was
the In
ed him
of the


consciously laying the foundation for great
and fortune as a writer of fiction. It was

this period, al
formed the inti

nd at

of the border, James
liam F. Cody, "Buffa
J. B. Omohundra, "
heroes of the West,
nently in his most su
reminiscences of th

has gi

of many pe
ven graphic
tried men's


the close of
acquaintance c
i B. Hickock,
lo Bill;" Cap
Texas Jack,"



the war,
)f the brain
"Wild Bil
t. Jack Ci
and othe

equal to
lian and
:o check
was un-
er fame
that he
e scouts
;" Wil-

who afterward figured promi-

e war,
dicals of
;n picture
als. The
our her

novels. In his spirited
scattered through the-
* the day, Ned Buntline
es of the times that lit-
. following sketch, orig-
o to the columns of the

Field and Farm, gives a glimpse of the grim
of war:

Meeting, not long ago, to my great delight, one of your
old subscribers and best friends, Major Schiefelin, of the
great drug firm of W. H. Schiefelin & Co., recalled an
incident very memorable in his life and mine. He was the
third major in Gen. Charles C. Dodge's First N. Y.
Mounted Rifles, and joined the regiment about the same


time that I had the honor of taking saddle with as fine a
body of men as ever touched spur to flank.
The day I reached the regiment, early in 1862, there was
a reconnoisance ordered to feel of the enemy on the lines of
the Blackwater, and to make a push toward Petersburg to
see what his strength was. There was a brigade of infantry
under General Wessels; a section of Battery L, regular
United States artillery, under Lieut. Beecher; the howitzer
battery of First Mounted Rifles under Fairgraves, and the
First Mounted Rifles under Col. Dodge, afterward a general
when only twenty-three years of age, and the finest-looking
man that I ever saw in the saddle. Six feet two in height,
elegantly formed, with a classic, fearless face, a splendid
horseman, he looked every inch the soldier. He had already
served abroad in the Queen's Light Guards, the finest cav-
alry in England.
When within half a mile of Blackwater Bridge the com-

mand was halted in a depression near a stream,
ahead and the enemy discovered in force across
water, with a long range of masked rifle pits
abutments of the bridge, which, with the steam
that point, they had burned.
The undersigned volunteered alone to find wl

scouts sent
the Black-
beyond the
saw mill at

here the en-

emy was, and did find them, rather suddenly. They were so
well masked that he gained the river bank above the ruins
of the mill, rode down to the water's edge and skirted along
the shore to the east abutment of the bridge, without seeing
a man, or anything but a thick growth of bushes on the
high bank just beyond the river-there very deep and about
100 or 130 feet wide. The bridge had been a wooden struc-
ture, single span.
Just as the rider reached the foot of the abutments, a
single confederate officer rose among the bushes and
"Halt, you d-d Yank! Halt and surrender!"


"Not much !" I replied. fWe were almost in pistol shot,
and all was so still an ordinary tone of voice was audible.
"Not quite ready I"
"Fire!" he yelled.
And at that every bush seemed to have covered a man, for
full two hundred riflemen poured a concentrated -volley on
me. The depression from the high bank to where I sat in
my saddle was full thirty degrees, and every shot went over
my head. 'The air seemed hot with bullets; but nary a
scratch to me or my horse. But the way that horse went
over the bank and out of range was a caution to those who
practice electric locomotion.
To ride back, report to the commanding officer, and get
to the mounted rifles was quick work.
The Thirty-ninth Illinois and Twenty-sixth Ohio were
ordered forward as a skirmish line, two companies of the
Mounted Rifles dismounted, with their Sharpe's carbines,
and Beecher's section of Battery L, two guns, sent forward.
The writer was given a special squad of sharp shooters
from the Rifles to feel the way, place the artillery and do
about as he pleased.
He gave Beecher his points, showed him by .two tall trees
the limits, so far as he had seen," of the enemy's line, and
while the battery galloped to a spot masked by bushes not
four hundred yards from the enemy, the infantry named ad-
vanced in treble skirmish line, cautiously, under cover.
When I had ridden back I had seen close to the east abut-
ment of the bridge, near a rail fence, a huge sycamore tree,
a splendid cover. With six men from Company C, I think,
and two from A, I made a rush for that tree, and we reached
it unharmed, I made the men lie down and hand me up a
loaded rifle when mine was emptied. They were hidden by
the large trunk entirely. The opposite bank was now al-
most a sheet of fire,, though few men could be seen, they
were so well masked. Our skirmishers were sending in
lead hot and fast.

- 72-

Beecher opened fire with his two rifled guns, but his shot
(shrapnel he was using) went forty feet too high.
One of my men, Corporal Kane, now, I think, in New
York, crept back and told Beecher from me how much de-
pression was needed to reach their works.
Meanwhile Lieutenant Wheelan, brother of our then
Major Wheelan, who is now a senior captain in the Second
regular United States cavalry, Gen. Augur's old regiment,
tried to creep through the rail fence to reach my tree, from
behind which I was firing as often as I could see a man on
the other side.
Poor Wheelan was shot through the throat as he raised
his head to speak to me.
Amid a shower of bullets two of the heroes, who had
held the tree with me all this time, caught him. draped him

- 0p~

through the fence and keeping in the tree line,
to the rear, where he died in a few minutes.
saw Schieftelin for the first time under fire.

He had ridden up on heal

there he sat in his saddle, hi
face, a blue cloak with its :
shoulder, curiously looking
Beecher's battery got in its
soldier myself, of two long,
that he was for the first 1
with a curiosity that mad<

carried him
And now I

ring that Wheelan was shot, and
s plumed hat over his fair young
red lining, thrown back over his
at the enemy's works, just as
work at the right elevation. A
hard wars, used to fire, knowing
time under fire, I watched him

e me forget any danger myself,

though several bullets grazed me where
after bullet whistled over and about him,
seem to mind them a bit, until an officer in
Illinois gave him a caution, and was hit
"This is war, is it ?-rather hot, but thej
shot." was his cool remark, made within t
he turned his horse and rode back slowly to

I stood. Bullet
and he did not
the Thirty-ninth
himself a second

v don't kill every
en feet of me as
) the battalion.



73 -
Ten minutes later the battery had shelled the enemy back,
and the Eleventh Pennsylvania cavalry, Col. Spear, having
come up, a regular cavalry charge was ordered, and both
commands, the rifles leading, swam the river, captured the
enemy's works, chased the force, superior to our own, nearly
to Ivor, a large intrenched camp, and then turning to the
right captured the picket guards at Joiner's Ford, seven miles
above, and rejoined the infantry at the Isle of Wight court
Surgeon Boyd, of the One Hundred and Twelfth New

York w
worth a
who pul
side of
up with
I'd lii
and has
shot at

as along as a volunteer, and his horse wouldn't swim
cent. If he is living perhaps he will tell your readers
led him from his saddle and landed him on the right
Jordan, where he found his horse in time to keep
the command.
ke to see that old sycamore. I'll bet, if it yet stands,
not been hacked at, that twenty pounds of bullets,
the head and shoulders of the writer-that was all

the target they had--can be found in that tree.
I have never ceased to regret that Gen. Dodge and Major
Schieffelin did not remain in the service. They would have
held their own and more-they were all dash and courage.
But business calls, matrimony, and an aversion to the politi-
cal promotions they had to. wince under-men whose service
as ward politicians gave them political preference-did the
work, and both resigned, with glory waiting to crown their
brows. They were idolized by the men under them, who
would have followed them to death without drawing rein.
This is but a desultory sketch, a pleasant memory of hot
work, but it is yours. If the major would only give it he
could describe the affair far better than 'tis here recorded.



NOTHER episode in the war record of
Colonel Judson, which has been incorrectly,
if not maliciously, distorted, was the period
of temporary incarceration at Fort Hamil-
ton. The true version of this affair has
been recently given by Major T. P. McElrath, the
popular writer of war stories, as follows:
Happening to encounter recently a newspaper account of
the exploits of the late Edward Z. C. Judson-more popu-
larly known to the past generation by his nom de plume of
"Ned Buntline"-the author of some of the most blood-curd-
ling, hair-raising novels in American literature, it flashed
upon my memory that the novelist had once been a prisoner
in my special custody at Fort Hamilton, New York Harbor.
The post was not utilized during the war as a military pris-
on, nor is its history associated with the records of captives,
famous or infamous, as military or civilian opponents of
the nation's integrity as are those of Forts Lafayette, Mon-
roe, Warren, McHenry and Jefferson. Nevertheless, within
an interval of a few months three men were incarcerated in
Fort Hamilton, all of them soldiers, and all three arrested


by the unusual exercise of arbitrary power without the pre-
ferment of charges against them which would have insured
them the benefit of trial by court martial. As the whole cir-
cumstances of these cases have never found their way into
public print, many of their attendant facts being known only
to myself, it occurred to me that their recital might consti-
tute an interesting contribution to the history of that period.
The first of the three individuals referred to was an officer
of high rank whose ability in both military and civilian
branches of service prior to and since the war of the rebel-
lion earned for him world-wide distinction. In the second
Army Register of 1861, issued after the first reorganization
of the regular army, the name of Charles P. Stone appears
seventh in rank in the list of brigadier generals of volun-

teers, Generals Port
his immediate predec
below him. Genera
plained imprisonmer
familiar to the Ame
in this sketch. I hav


allusion to him
the first man,
service for the
a few months

g the war in F
on the 8th of
of 12,000 mel


er, Franklin and W. T. Sherman being
:essors and U. S. Grant being ten "files"
1 Stone's career, including his still unex-
it of over six months' duration, is too
rican people to require detailed relation
re felt constrained, however, to make this
from the circumstance that after having
who, in January, 1861, was mustered
defense of the national capital, he be-
later the first military prisoner confined
ort Hamilton. He was arrested at mid-
* February, 1862, while commanding a
n in Virginia, and was placed in dose

captivity and a cold ear turned to his demands for an ex-
planation of the outrage.
Fort Lafayette was the prison to which he was consigned
and his custodian was the sturdy Martin Burke, lieutenant
colonel of the Third United States artillery, a strict military
constructionist, who earned for himself a wide-spread fame
by the grim literalness which he displayed in managing the
hospitalities of that isolated and dreaded "bastile." No


76 -

charges were ever preferred against General Stone, and about
the middle of July, 1862, he received permission to take
quarters at Fort Hamilton on the neighboring main land,
which his wife and daughter were allowed to share with
him. Finally, on August 16th, he was abruptly turned
loose, being fully released from arrest, though nearly another
year elapsed before Secretary Stanton permitted him to again
assume command in the field. During his few weeks' resi-
dence at Fort Hamilton he was very popular with the officers
of the garrison whose sympathies were naturally brought into
play by the mysterious irregularity of his captivity. To the
youngsters of the "mess" it was a treat to witness the genial
courtesy which uniformly marked his association with them,
while his soldier's dignity furnished them a desirable model
for imitation. The subsequent distinguished career of Gen-
eral Stone has recently been exhaustively related in the news-
papers, through the interest excited by his sudden and unex-
pected death in New York during the last week of Janu-
ary, 1887.
The two successors of General Stone as prisoners in Fort
Hamilton were men of a wholly different type. My recol-
lection of them was revived by the newspaper paragraphs
referred to above, which contained an inaccurate and inade-
quate statement regarding an episode in Mr. Judson's career
that has never to this writing been related. The writer of
that article summed up his subject's war record in the fol-
lowing words: "During the war he was arrested and con-
fined in Fort Lafayette for overstaying his parole." That
is rather too scanty a recognition of his services in the army,
and moreover it is not true. As a matter of fact Judson
was never confined in Fort Lafayette. His single experience
as a prisoner of consequence during his military career re-
lated solely to a captivity in Fort Hamilton during the sum-
mer of 1863. At that time the "military post of the city
and harbor of New York," with headquarters at Fort Ham-

--77 -

ilton, was commanded by Brevet Brigadier General Harvey
Brown, Colonel of the Fifth United States artillery-the
brave and skillful officer, who, a few weeks subsequent to
the occurrences related in this sketch rescued the city of New
York from the hands of the largest and most evil-disposed
mob that has ever come to the surface in the United. States.
The "post" comprised all the forts and military commands
in the vicinity of New York, excepting Governor's Island
and Fort Lafayette, besides the hospital and convalescent de-
pots at David's, Hart's and Riker's Islands. The garrison
of this "oost." exclusive of the New York headquarters and

staff, of Gen. Wall, who commanded the
East, was composed of the headquarters

department of the
and two mounted

batteries of the Fifth United States artillery, battalions of
several regiments of regular infantry which had been sent
North to replenish their forces decimated in McClellan's
peninsular campaign, and some volunteer regiments recently
reorganized after having been mustered out at the end of
their original two years' enlistment. General Brown .had
an office in Grand street, in New York, and had organized a
military patrol for the city in the shape of a volunteer com-
pany which he designated the invalid corps, and, which was
the object of his special and affectionate solicitude.
One fine afternoon in the early summer of 1863 a corporal
of the invalid corps, with a file of men escorting a prisoner,
reported to me at Fort Hamilton, where I was serving as
post quartermaster. The captive was a tall, broad-shoul-
dered handsome man, wearing a combination of civilian's and
soldier's costume, and bearing himself with the air of a
man accustomed to command rather than obey. With him
I received a note from Gen. Brown, in New York, directing
me briefly to lock the prisoner in a casemate and to keep
the key carefully in my own pocket. An empty casemate
* recently vacated by a departing officer of the garrison was
selected for the purpose, and was hastily furnished with an

78 -

iron bedstead, a couple of chairs and a few other conveni-
ences from my own quarters, furnished apartments for stran-
gers not being provided at that post. Shortly after leaving
the prisoner to his reflections, I was handed a note which
he had passed through a window to a passing soldier. The
missive, the original of which lies before me as I write,
reads as follows:
"If Lieutenant McElrath will have the kindness to loan
me a book or two I shall be sincerely obliged.
Respectfully, etc.,

Recognizing the name at once I knew my prisoner to be
the redoubtable "Ned Buntline." The great sensational nov-
elist was reluctantly contributing his share toward a minor
chapter of the history of the war in the same hurried and
peremptory manner in which doubtless the heroes of his own
lurid fiction were unexpectedly caused to encounter the
shocks of adverse fate. I sent the messenger back with an
armful of literature and arranged matters so that a fresh
supply could be provided at the captive's will.
On General Brown's arrival at Fort Hamilton in"the
evening I learned that Mr.-or rather Sergeant-Judson
had been placed in durance at the special request of his wife.
He had come North from "the field" on furlough, and had
not only overstayed his allotted time-a circumstance which

of itself might not have provoked cc
he had become irritable in his days
phatically one of that restless class v
venture, nor can tire of aught but
cordingly thought the easiest way
family would be to pack its head off
however, was not a thing that could
as his command was somewhere in t
was necessary to wait until the qua
should despatch a vessel in that dire

onnubial dissension-but
of inactivity, being em-
vho "prey upon high ad-
rest." His spouse, ac-
to restore peace in the
to the regiment. That,
be at once accomplished,
the distant South, and it
irtermaster's department
.ctionr In all likelihood



the mere overstaying of his
circumstances of the period
Brown's special displeasure.
crowded with volunteer sol
commands from furlough c
extensive barracks erected
Battery, and the City Hall
stantly encamped on the F
tide was incessantly ebbing
shipped Southward several
pearance was unnoticed, th
by new arrivals from the int
he was famous in the arm'
truth means simply an office
ciently to do his duty cor
humane man, with profound
sex. And this woman's cc
his ire against the luckless

furlough would
have subjected I
New York at
fliers st giving to
sick leave, and

not under the
iim to General
that time was
return to their
in addition to

for their accommodation in the
Park, large numbers were con-
ort Hamilton reservation. The
and flowing. Detachments were
times a week, but their disap-
ieir places being instantly filled
erior. But General Brown, albeit
y as a rigid martinet-which in
er who respects his calling suffi-
ascientiously-was in addition a
1 and delicate respect for the fair
mplaint of ill-treatment excited


him to order the latter to be lo
brick archway in the bowels of F
His captivity, however, was n<
the following day Mrs. Judson
and was at once allowed to visi
him a supply of stationery, and
novel writing. Each forenoon
the post, and it was rumored
few days that his confinement
blood-curdling novels, which his
the city. I regret that in the

*vroned scribe, and impelled
kicked up as I have said, in a
ort Hamilton's granite walls.
ot particularly galling. On
presented herself at the fort
t her husband. She brought
he at once betook himself to
she made her appearance at
in the garrison that in the
lasted he had written three
wife found a market for in
pressure of more important

business I had not sufficient curiosity at the time to ascer-
tain their titles.
A few days after Judson's incarceration Gen. Brown sent
me another prisoner, with similar injunctions as to his safe-
keeping. This captive was a young man dressed in the fa-
tigue uniform of a commissioned officer, and presenting on



his countenance and in his general appearance, evidence of
recent over-indulgence in drink. He was a German, with a
very imperfect knowledge of the English language. My in-
structions with regard to him were very plain, and I clapped
him into the same apartment with Judson and left him to
cool off, without at the time inquiring his name or the cause
of the singularly disgraceful manner in which he had been
projected upon my notice.
When I reported the new arrival to General Brown on
his return at the point that evening I found the latter highly
incensed over the circumstances which had led to his arrest.

It appeared that
beer in some Ea
dispute with the
in a lively fight.
his opponents and

the German, after loading himself with
st Side saloon, had become engaged in a
people of the establishment which resulted
The military man succeeded in worsting
I in clearing the apartment of both visitors

and attendants. Then hastily closing the front door, he
armed himself with the piece of scantling with which it was
barred at night when shut to exclude the outside world, and
stood ready to repel an assault. This was not long delayed.
Planted by the door the hero of the evening made such a
vigorous defense with his formidable weapon that the assail-
ing party were twice repelled with considerable effusion of
blood and some severe bruises. Then, taking advantage of
their discomfiture, he made a sudden sortie, brandishing his
club, and before the astonished host divined his purpose, he
rushed past them and was quickly out of sight. As he was
hastening in the direction of Broadway he met a party be-
longing to Gen. Brown's Veteran Reserves patrolling the
streets in search of wandering and dilatory soldiers. Slack-

ing his pa
geant in

ce, he ordered the detachment to halt, and the ser-
command, impressed by his authoritative manner

and his uniform, reiterated the order. Hastily informing the
sergeant that a party of volunteers had been maltreated in a
beer saloon in the vicinity, the stranger took command of


-8 -

the detachment himself and marched them to the place of
his recent conflict. The door was found open and the room
was filled with 'people drinking beer and discussing vocifer-
ously the apparition before which they had givn way a few
moments previously. Wheeling his column into line, the
self-appointed commander gave the order to charge.
An indescribable tumult ensued. The affrighted occupants
of the saloon, seeing their redoubtable adversary approaching
with reinforcements, had no time to rally for resistance, but
fled incontinently, making their exits promiscuously through
the rear windows of the hall and scaling the fences of the

back yard with eager haste. Finding himself again the mas-
ter of the situation, the stranger discreetly marched his
command from the scene of the double victory, and when
he had gone a few blocks from the place he relinquished the
command again to the sergeant and disappeared in the dark-
ness. The idea gradually penetrated the mind of the ser-
geant that he had been imposed upon. Accordingly the next
morning on General Brown's arrival at the New York
office the disgusted non-commissioned officer reported the oc-
currence, and mighty was the General's wrath at hearing
the rueful story. The appearance of an intoxicated officer
was not a phenomenal thing in those days, but that anyone

should hav

e the audacity to take possession of his pet patrol

and use it for the subjugation of a lager beer saloon was an
indignity not to be ignored. Detectives were employed to
ferret out the mysterious brawler, and on the following day
they arrested him in his room in the St. Nicholas hotel and
carried him triumphantly to the general. The latter wasted
no words over him but sent him at once under guard to
Fort Hamilton, as I have related. On the following morning
.he was brought before the general at headquarters immedi-
Sately after guard mounting, when he declared himself to be-
long to the staff of General Doster, then provost marshal
of the District of Columbia, recreating himself in New York


on a brief leave of absence. He was remanded to his case-
mate and a communication was despatched to General Dos-

ter inquiring
The two
worthy good
the bachelor
in handsome
quets of the
been enticed

as to the truth of the story.
worthies bore their confinement with praise-
nature. Their meals were furnished them from
officers' mess, which at that time was conducted
style under the stewardship of one of the Flou-

famous Plati
from the sh

special purpose, and both
during the day time. Fi
some Southern port from
portation to his regiment,
ors, however, reached us
by gallant conduct shortly
command somewhere in

plies, but the master of the
luctant to run the gauntlet
banks of the river, by whi
reached. Pilots were not
known to teem with confi
emergency Judson stepped
teered to pilot the steamer
ingly against the iron clad
during the trip up the river
billeted for Judson, who sti

tsburg family of caterers, who had
lores of Lake Champlain for that
were permitted to receive visitors
nally a steamer was despatched to
which Judson could receive trans-
and I never saw him again. Rum-
of his having distinguished himself
y after his liberation. A Federal
the interior stood in need of sup-

vessel transporting them was re-
t of rebel troops occupying the
ch alone the command could be
obtainable, as the shores were
ederate sharpshooters. In the
nobly to the front and volun-
. Bullets rattled along unceas-
pilot house which he occupied
, but happily none of them were
ood calm and unflinching at the

wheel until he had conveyed his charge to his destination.
For this gallant act, the story ran, he was publicly thanked

in general orders
in the shape of pr
Meanwhile my
nearly a fortnigh
Doster's response
fully corroborated
self. He proved

besides receiving more substantial reward
German captive remained in durance vile,
t elapsing before the receipt of General
to General Brown's letter. The answer
the prisoner's statements in regard to him-
to be a subaltern officer of the Prussian


cavalry, a baron by title, and the son of one of the most
prominent officials of the Prussian government. He had' re-
ceived leave of absence to enable him to visit the United
States and attach himself to our service in order to gain a
practical familiarity with grand tactics, and the New York
episode which I have related was possibly a private rehearsal
of some tactical principle he had picked up duririg a resi-
dence of several months in the national capital. Of course,
he was immediately restored to liberty, with a spicy repri-
mand from General Brown, who had him kept under sur-
veillance until he had departed in the cars for Philadelphia.
Some months afterward I encountered him at the St. Nicho-
las hotel, in New York, and found him a very sociable com-
panion. I understood that he returned to his own country
early in 1864. I have thought it best not to. reveal his
identity, foreign though he was, inasmuch as an official rep-
resenting his government and bearing his name and title, has
figured somewhat largely and creditably in the higher dip-
lomatic circles in .Washington during the past few years-
and I have a serious suspicion that he is the same person
who as an unknown lieutenant nearly twenty-four years
ago was the reluctant recipient of the enforced hospitalities
of Fort Hamilton and the fellow prisoner of Ned Buntline.





Once more, dear hills' of Delaware,
I look upon your leafy pines-
Once more upon your mossy slopes
My wearied form at ease reclines,
And up into the pictured clouds
I gaze with glad contented eyes,
And feel myself in bliss at home,
Beneath my boyhood's native skies.

I've stood on fair Nevada's peaks,
And thought the picture grand and fair-
I've sighed in bright Yosemite,
And thought 'twas almost Heaven there;
I've wandered far in every clime,
And met with beauties strange and rare,
But ever still my heart looked back
To these-the hills of Delaware!
No matter where my footsteps tread
By fortune's wayward changes led-
No matter how those fortunes shine,
Or where I rest my weary head-
In dreams by night, in thoughts by day,
Before me pictured everywhere,
I see my home, and those I love,
Upon the hills of Delaware.
-Ned Buntline.

-85 -

the close of the late Civil War,


Judson retired from military service, cov-
ered with wounds and broken in health, but
retaining his indomitable will and courage
S-he resistless force that had carried him
through perils and adventures bordering upon the
marvellous. That he survived the numerous wounds
from bullet and shell and sabre, inflicted during his
military career and desperate encounters with In-
dians, outlaws, etc., is evidence of a wonderful vi-
With a few congenial spirits-notably "Buffalo

Bill" (William F. Cody), "Wild Bill" (James B.
Hickox), "Texas Jack" (J. B. Omohundro) and
Captain Jack Crawford-all well-known scouts and
frontiersmen, Ned Buntline rambled over the West-
ern plains, where he reveled in hunting and Indian
fighting, while gathering abundant material for the
thrilling romances of the border with which his
name and fame have been since so closely identified.

His coolness and courage, no less than
able skill as a crack shot with the rifle


made him an acknowledged leader among
bordermen of the West, and if the record o
on the plains could be carefully gathered,
form a bright chapter in his life history.
seeking for fame in this direction, he was
of the boldest defenders of the defense
often an avenger of the cruel wrongs perpel
the lawless Indian tribes.

Id pistol,
the wild
f his life
it would
ever one
ess, and
treated by




In public or private life Ned

Buntline was not

the wild
to be.
center ol
few wou
the hero
he made
Pacific c
the repu
He also
dents an
a friend
and fror
the prince
An an

man of the woods he wa!

He was a man of cult
orator and clever con
f magnetic attraction" in
Id surmise from his app
of a hundred battles.
a regular tour in Califi
oast, in the temperance
station of a vigorous anc
appeared frequently as
d scenes of the war, but
once remarked, was ra
n first to last he believe
:iple that Americans shoi
using episode occurred

his brief yet sensational
actor. He had prepared
"The Scouts of the Plain,
abilities of the bold scol
Jack, who agreed to me
they were to make thei


s often supposed
and dignity, an
asseinblage, and

earance that he was

T n--

In 1 067
ornia and
work, ar
a lecture
his great

and 1868
along the
id gained
r, in inci-
theme, ao

dical Americanism


career as
a Western

r f

him in
irst app

and practiced in
rule America.
connection with
playwright and
drama, entitled,
Sto the histrionic
Bill and Texas
Chicago, where
,earance on any

stage-aside fr
Ned Buntline tl
ing Buffalo Bill
of the wild wes
"I shall neve
on his feet as a
ago. We had
run the show.

the stage-coach of the far West.
relates his experience in introduc-
the public as one of the hunters

.r forget the time
I showman twelve
corresponded and
We were to meet

I had putting him
or fourteen years
I had agreed to
in Chicago. I got

87 -
there Thursday morning, and Buffalo Bill and Texas

Jack arrived in the evening.
twenty Indian bucks for the
consternation when they can

--- 1


They were to bring
ihow. Judge of my
without an Indian.

an In

were we to do? The biggest thea
was hired for the next Monday
cost. We had no Indians, and it
dian show. 'We must now have
I went out and hired ten actors

waiting around for something to do,


ter in Chi-
night at a

a pi
nd se


and Jack to making Indians of them. Then I
to writing a play. It was a blood-curdling and
tragedy of the plains. Buffalo Bill was mad
hero, but I was cast in a part where there was

talking to do, lest he
the play as rapidly as
copyers as fast as fil
their parts. We had
day and two on Satu
written at all; I mer

led up tc
ence of p
falo Bill
to them.
ing. At
falo Bill

to be
ay,' I
t Bill

e the

might not be up to it. I wrote
possible, handing the sheets to
nished, so that all could have


it with any

;ly ha

rehearsals--one on Fri-
My own part was not

d a cue at the end
of talk I pleased.

evening came. The curtain
perhaps three thousand. I
about frontier life and my
and Texas Jack, when, at
The audience rose and ho
The cheer was prolonged
last it subsided and the timid
to speak. He had forgott

rose on an
had a ram
old pards
the cue, in
wled a wel
and embai

, and

e came for Buf-
en his part and

stood like a


The prompter

gave him

I ___r


- 88 -



He was speechless! I said: 'Why, you've been off
buffalo-hunting with Milligan, haven't you?' That
woke up him. He looked at Milligan and his
friends in a box, and told in plain language the story
of his last buffalo hunt., Then we all got warmed
up, and the 'Scouts of the Plains' went off in a lively
manner. It was a highly successful show, financially,
and has introduced many other similar wild west
combinations, which the public seem to appreciate

judging from the
to see the same.
Later another
("Wild Bill") wa

vast assemblages drawn together

western scout, James B. Hickox
s added to Ned Buntline's unique

company, and this dauntless man-the bravest of the
brave, as proven in many deadly fights to maintain
law and order-was a bright star in the little galaxy.
While holding the position of sheriff or marshal at
Hays City, and afterward at Abilene, Kansas, "Wild
Bill" maintained the reputation for cool courage
which he had shown in earlier years, through meet-
ing, single-handed, and killing or desperately wound-

ing a

11 the members of the .notorious
of desperadoes. Wild Bill, h
given to seeking notoriety, and
ilty that he had been induced ti
a short time with the traveling c<

had always been a real actor in life


however, was
i it was with
o remain for
company. He
wild drama,

and the presentation of this on the stage did not ap-
peal to him, therefore it is not surprising that the


call of the wild had been an irresistible one to him.
Of all the American frontiersmen-not even except-
ing Kit Carson-it is believed that Wild Bill met
with a greater number of deadly encounters against
apparently hopeless odds than any other in history.
His murder was a most cowardly act, and thousands
of friends and admirers of the brave scout mourned
the loss of a man who had often been tried and never
found wanting; a man sometimes misjudged, but one
whose kindness of heart was known to those most
intimately acquainted with him. No other westerner
of recent years can be named to bear comparison as
a daring frontier sheriff, a Derfect marksman and

ever reliable maintainer c
the possible exception
friend and companion of
The following tribute
long after his death, in t

of law against all odds, with
of the late Seth Bullock,
Theodore Roosevelt.
to Wild Bill appeared not
he New York Clipper:

[Capt. J. W. Crawford, otherwise "Capt. Jack," is also
known west of the Missouri as the Poet-scout of the Black
Hills, and last winter his extempore songs and poetic de-
clamations were the life of the mining-camps in that sec-
tion. As guide to an expedition in search of gold, he was
one of the first to explore the Black Hills country, and
credited to him are some of the quickest and most daring

-- vv ..........__



rides on record. Last August, in response to a telegram
from Buffalo Bill (W. F. Cody), he started on horseback,
and alone, to join General Crook, whose command he found
in five days, after a ride of five hundred miles through the
Big Horn country. On another occasion he carried dis-
patches for a leading New York newspaper from Owl Creek
to Fort Laramie, a distance of over four hundred miles, in-
side of four days, beating five fresh couriers and getting in
five hours ahead of all others. The dispatch cost $250, and
a supplementary dispatch descriptive of Capt. Jack's remark-
able ride cost $150 more, which, with $500 paid Capt. Jack
for his services as courier, made The Heralds outlay $900.
These costly dispatches appeared in that paper on Sept. 17,
1876, the day on which Capt. Jack wrote the poem given
below, which now appears in print for the first time. After
Buffalo Bill left General Merritt's cavalry on the Yellow-
stone River, Capt. Jack was appointed chief of scouts with
that command. At present he is a character-actor with Buf-
falo Bill's traveling company. Verses from his pen have
from time to time appeared in these columns; and accom-
panying his present contribution is a personal narration that
could not possibly be couched in more expressive language
than the simple words he himself has chosen: "A word or
two of my former history. I am twenty-eight years of age,
stand five feet eleven inches high, and weigh 178 pounds. I
entered the army in 1863, and at that time could not write
my own name. I scouted for General Hartranft, and was
wounded at Spottsylvania, Va., May 12, 1864. While in
the Saterlee Hospital, Philadelphia, one of the Sisters of
Charity taught me to read and to write (and may she be an
angel for it!). After five months spent in the hospital, I
returned to the field and was again wounded, this time at
Petersburg, Va., April 2, 1865, after which I was discharged.
Since then I have led a wandering life, mostly on the plains.
I have written many poems after the style of Bret Harte.


Gen. Custer's death was first put into rhyme by me." James
B. Hickox ("Wild Bill"), who was killed at Deadwood,
Wy. Ter., on Aug. 2 last, was, we believe, the husband of
Mrs. Agnes Lake, widow of the widely-known circus man-
ager William Lake, who was murdered at Granby, Mo.,
Aug. 21, 1869, by a man whom he had ejected from his show
for attempting to see it without paying. The murderer of
"Wild Bill" was last week sentenced to be hanged next
March.-Ed. Clipper.]
Under the sod in the prairie-land
We have laid him down to rest,
With many a tear from the sad, rough throng
And the friends he loved the best;
And many a heartfelt sigh was heard
As over the sward we trod,
And many an eye was filled with tears
As we covered him with the sod.

Under the sod in the prairie-land
We have laid the good and true -
An honest heart and a noble scout
Has bade us a last adieu.
No more his silvery voice will ring.
His spirit has gone to God;
Around his faults let Charity cling,
While we cover him with the sod.

Under the sod in the land of gold
We have laid the fearless Bill;
We called him Wild, yet a little child
Could bend his iron will.
With generous heart he freely gave
To the poorly clad, unshod-
Think of it, pards-of his noble traits--
While you cover him with the sod.


Under the sod in Deadwood Gulch
You have laid his last remains;
No more his manly form will hail
The red-man on the plains.
And Charley, may Heaven bless you!
You gave him a "bully good send;"
Bill was a friend to you, pard,
And you were his last, best friend.

You buried him neathh the old pine-tree,
In that little world of ours,
His trusty rifle by his side-
His grave all strewn with flowers;
His manly form in sweet repose,
That lovely silken hair-
I tell you, pard, it was a sight
That face so white and fair!

And while he sleeps beneath the sod
His murderer goes free,
Released by a perjured, gaming set
Who'd murder you and me-
Whose coward hearts dare never meet
A brave man on the square.
Well, pard, they'll find a warmer dime
Than they ever found out there.

Hell is full of just such men;
And if Bill is above to-day
The Almighty will have enough to do
To keep him from going away-
That is, from making a little scout
To the murderer's home below;
And if old Peter will let him out,
He can dean out the ranch, I know.

93 -
About 1870 Ned Buntline returned to Delaware
county, New York, and erected near Stamford, the
place of his.birth, a handsome residence which he
christened the "Eagle's Nest," in remembrance of
his hermitage of the same name in the Adirondack
wilderness. His home in the highlands of the Hud-
son was erected upon a picturesque hill-side, over-
looking many miles of the lovely Delaware valley,
and- successive ridges of the Catskill range. The
residence was built and furnished at an expense of
nearly $25,ooo, and all the surroundings indicated
the culture and sporting proclivities of the owner.
A tract of twenty acres close at hand was kept as a
game preserve, and his favorite room, the armory or
curiosity shop, as he was wont to call it, contained a
rare collection of guns, pistols, sabres and other im-
plements of warfare and the chase. His library
sanctum, as he remarked, were one, and in this cosy
retreat his prolific pen produced the numerous thrill-
ing tales which brought him wider fame and fortune.

He was at this period undei
exclusively to the columns of
and it has been stated that he
prietors, Messrs. Street & Sr
of $20,000 per year for his
his thrilling and sensational
possessing the merit almost
the frontier-"Buffalo Bill
fame, and his success in later

r contract to contribute
the New York Weekly,
: received from the pro-
nith, the handsome sum
productions. Through
I tales-many of them
of historical novels of
" first attained public
years may be in a great



to this origin,

as he was


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