e
home again, after four days in the open, four days of pure and
unadulterated happiness.

A Hunting Trip in the Long Ago

One of the disadvantages of old age, even advancing years, is the
pleasure we lose in anticipating future events. Enthusiastic youth
derives more pleasure in planning a journey, an outing or a social
gathering than can possibly be realized from any human experience. With
what pleasure the young set out, getting ready for a hunting trip, or an
excursion to some remote locality never visited by them!

From the first day I arrived in Los Angeles, I had heard of the Fort
Tejon and the Rancho La Liebre country as a hunting paradise, extolled
by all people I met, who were given to spending an occasional week or
two in the mountains in search of game. In consequence of what I had
heard of this region, I made up my mind to go there the first time I got
an opportunity.

Among the first acquaintances I made here was a dear old man named A. C.
Chauvin, formerly of St. Louis, Mo., and of French descent. He had spent
many years in the Northwest, hunting and trapping. He was an excellent
shot with both rifle and shotgun. Notwithstanding the fact that he was
slightly afflicted with a nervous disorder akin to palsy, which kept his
left arm and hand, when not in use, constantly shaking, the moment he
drew up his gun, his nerves were steady, and his aim perfect. He
despised the modern breech-loading rifle, and insisted on shooting an
old-fashioned, muzzle-loading, single-barrel rifle, made by a fellow
townsman, Henry Slaughterbach. It was an exceedingly accurate and
powerful shooting gun. Chauvin was a thorough hunter, well versed in
woodcraft, up in camp equipage and the requirements of men on a two or
three weeks' hunting trip.

Off in the Dust.

During the summer of 1876 I had been hard at work. The weather had been
hot and trying. In the latter part of September, Mr. Chauvin proposed
that I go with him on a deer hunt to the Liebre Ranch. I was practicing
law, and after consulting my partners, I eagerly consented to accompany
him. He made all the preparations. On the 30th of September he started a
two-horse wagon, loaded with most of our outfit, on ahead, in charge of
a roustabout. On October 2nd, we followed in a light one-horse wagon,
taking with us our blankets, a few provisions and a shotgun. We had a
hard time pulling over the grade beyond San Fernando, but finally made
it. We went on past Newhall