12 Naturalist at Large 



with chandeliers and low doonvays, and from short sleep- 

 ing-car and steamer berths, all my Ufe. 



A flood of pleasant memories surround the stories of our 

 life at Tupper Lake. I can close my eyes and see the great 

 flock of lovely swan swimming past Warren Point just a 

 mile or so north of Father's Paradise Point camp, where 

 for several summers I had a lovely home of my own, thanks 

 to his generosity. He took the greatest pride in his swan, 

 his peacock, his Kerry cattle, his oxen, and his bees, and 

 in the ever-changing beauty of the scene which unfolded as 

 summer changed to autumn in the north woods. 



My three brothers and I were a fortunate crew. 



After Father's death it was quite obvious that the reserve 

 at Tupper Lake was more than we four could swing. 

 Father's estate, cut in quarters and the death duties paid, 

 was of a quite different order of magnitude from what 

 it had been when he was alive. Fortunately the State of 

 New York needed lands for a forest reserve and to pro- 

 tect watersheds which, in the future, may have to be drawn 

 upon for the use of the City of New York. They bought 

 all of the unimproved acreage. The farm and its various 

 buildings, Father's camp and my camp, were purchased 

 by the American Legion as a tuberculosis sanatorium. I 

 have often wondered whether the convalescent Legion- 

 naires have appreciated the beauty spread before their eyes. 

 Mount Morris, one of the handsomest domes in the whole 

 Adirondacks area, lies right directly across the lake from 

 these camps, and when the autumn foliage is richest the 

 reflection in the lake is frequently one of breath-taking 

 beauty. 



