1889. | Sctentific Societies. 203 
some would remain even into the winter. The flight was usually from 
the north, but on one occasion, the first great flight of that year, was from 
the south at the point where I was, and I never saw them in greater num- 
bers. This was a movement that much surprised me. 
When I was a schoolboy a favorite skating place was Stuyvesant’s 
Creek, a considerable body of water, which had its head quite close to the 
Third Avenue, about 20th Street, and it emptied into. East River—I think 
about 12th Street. On the north side of it, there were high woods, where 
IT have seen Robins pursued by gunners, when the ground was covered 
with snow and the creek frozen. 
Speaking of skating, reminds me of an experience I had when a boy; 
it was one that probably but few persons have had who are now living. 
I skated from the ‘Collect,’* (quite a large pond so called, which existed 
near where the ‘Toombs’ now stands in Centre Street) down the Canal 
that ran through the middle of Canal Street and was the outlet of the 
Collect. I passed under the wooden bridge, that crossed the canal at 
Broadway, and on to Lispenard’s Meadows, some distance west of Broad- 
way. These meadows occupied a large area, and extended to the Hudson 
River. 
At the time the Robins were migrating, there would be frequently 
flocks of Meadow Larks (Sturnella magna) going south. I recollect in 
my younger days, that about three miles from the City Hall, on the—east 
side of the Bloomingdale Road, were extensive pasture fields—about 
where 40th Street now is; in these the Larks accumulated in large num- 
bers in October, and of course were much hunted by city gunners. 
March 1, 1889.—Annual Meeting. Mr. George B. Sennett, President, 
in the chair. 
The following officers were elected for the ensuing year. President, 
Mr. J. A. Allen; Vice-Presdent, Mr. Frank M. Chapman; Secre- 
{ * Concerning this pond, DeWitt Clinton says, in his paper read before the N. Y. 
Lyceum of Natural History, August 9, 1824, ‘On the Hirundo fulva of Vieillot’: 
“Reputable men, laboring under optical delusion, have declared that they have wit- 
nessed the descent of the swallow into the Hudson, and the pond on Manhattan Island 
called the Collect.” 
“North of this lay the Fresh Water Pond, with its neighboring district of the Collect 
or Katch-Hook. This name, which finally came to be applied to the pond itself, was 
originally given by the Dutch settlers to a point of land on the shores of the pond of 
about forty-eight acres in extent, the site of an old Indian village. The Fresh Water 
Pond was one of those traditional ponds which are found in every village, reputed to 
have no bottom—a reputation which it failed to sustain against the researches of 
modern times. The pond was indeed, very deep; deep enough, in fact, to have floated 
the largest ships in the navy. Its waters were filled with roach and sunfish, and to 
preserve these, the city authorities passed an ordinance in 1734, forbidding any person 
to fish in it with nets, or in any other way than angling. But the beautiful pond has passed 
away, and the spot where its sparkling waters once played is now filled by the ‘Halls of 
Justice’ with its gloomy prison cells.”’—Mary L. BooTH, Hist. City of New York 
Ist. ed., 1859, pp. 322, 323.—L. S. F.] 
