MORNING ON THE RIVER. 199 



sonville and Sanford. Hurriedly dressing and don- 

 ning an overcoat as a protection against the cool 

 and bracing air, I make my way to the forward 

 deck. The sun, just peering above the horizon, 

 is beginning to scatter the few wisps of mist which 

 linger along the banks of the river. I ascertain from 

 a deck hand that we have just left Astor, a landing 

 about ten miles above Lake George. The stream, 

 here about one hundred yards wide, winds its way 

 between densely wooded banks. The timber is mostly 

 hard wood; oak, elm, sweet-gum, hickory, cypress, 

 bay, etc., all more or less encumbered with the swing- 

 ing tufts of gray Spanish moss. Occasionally a palm, 

 tall and stately, rises amidst the other trees, or a grove 

 of them covers some dike along the shore, their pres- 

 ence adding much to the semi-tropical aspect of the 

 scene. 



At times a bittern, Botaurus lentiginosus Montag., 

 is flushed, rising with a "quawk" and winging its way 

 before us to some sheltered cove. Blue herons are 

 common, and occasionally as the prow of the boat 

 turns a bend a snake-bird, Anhinga anhinga L., with 

 long and slender neck, arises and flies up some inlet 

 or high over the bordering forest. The range of this 

 bird is through tropical and semi-tropical America 

 north to southern Illinois, and casually to Indiana and 

 Michigan. According to Bartram it was formerly 

 very common on the St. John's, but like many other 

 of the rarer birds and mammals has been driven to 



