CERYLE ALCYON. 41 



little mountain billows that break around the 

 north-eastern rim of Dry Valley and worked 

 down to the beautiful and deep Coosawattee. 

 It appears to my memory now that nearly 

 every bough that swung over the water bore 

 its belted kingfisher, while the sound of their 

 diving in the shallows was almost continuous. 

 I dare say distance has trebled the number of 

 birds and exaggerated their activity, but no- 

 where else have I spent so happy a fortnight 

 with Alcyon. I remember that my compan- 

 ion remarked, with perfect youthful sincer- 

 ity, that it was a comfort to realize the ina- 

 bility of the kingfishers to catch the two- 

 pound bass we were angling for. This same 

 companion, standing in the stern of our 

 pirogue, balancing himself like the born ca- 

 noeist that he was, and playing one of those 

 gamey mountain bass, was as picturesque a 

 figure as ever delighted an artist or empha- 

 sized a landscape. He was the prince of 

 archers, too, and many a whistling shaft he 

 sped at the wild things in the air and on the 

 banks. So intense was his sportman's delight 

 in every phase of outdoor excitement that it 

 was almost painful to witness his ecstasy of 

 hesitation when one fine morning, just as he 

 had hooked a large fighting bass, which was de- 

 termined to break out of the water, he saw an 

 ibis, a rare stranger in that region, standing 

 not more than forty yards from him. His 

 bow and arrows lay at his feet, the bass was 

 demanding the strictest attention, a word 

 would scare the bird away ! I forbear to fill in 

 the sketch. The reader may finish it to suit 

 himself. 



But to get back to Ceryle Alcyon and its 

 ways. It is probable that Haley ornis toliapi- 

 cus, a fossil of the eocene, may have some re- 



