desired on board the Castalia, for on 

 hospitable thoughts intent I secured some 

 crumbs from the table, but my feathered 

 fellow travelers would have none of me, 

 pa'ssing my humble offerings by in dis- 

 dain. There was but one death on the 

 passage, and that was a white-eyed 

 vireo, who either succumbed to ex- 

 haustion or struck the rigging too vio- 

 lently in boarding the steamer. 



But birds were not the only winged 

 creatures who took passage with us. For 

 several hours a continuous stream of 

 honey bees and yellow- jackets flew ex- 

 hausted upon the deck, only to become 

 food for the bee-eating passengers. The 

 few who escaped and revived sufficiently 

 to crawl up onto the cabin were so fa- 

 tigued that one could stroke them 

 gently without provoking any an- 

 tagonism. Wafted across the blue 

 waters by adverse winds came also 

 myriads of common yellow butter- 

 flies, tossing in the gentle breeze like 

 handfuls of shining buttercups, and 

 great troops of beautiful milkweed but- 

 terflies (Anosia plexippus), their brilliant 

 colors gleaming in the sunlight in all the 

 richness of ebony and crimson. They 

 hovered about the steamer like gorgeous 

 blossoms cut from the parent stalk and 

 left poised in mid air at the mercy of 

 treacherous gales. Funny little atoms of 

 vanity and brightness, whose homes are 

 among the gardens of peace and sunshine, 

 what business had they here in this 

 region of seething waters and tempestu- 

 ous winds? 



We looked to have our feathered 

 friends leave us upon the first appear- 

 ance of land, but, on the contrary, they 

 remained with us all of the afternoon, 

 as we sailed in and out among the pic- 



turesque islands of the "Soo" river, and 

 it was not until toward their bed-time 

 and the setting of the sun that they grad- 

 ually began to disappear; the last to 

 leave, and that was at dusk, was the 

 black-throated blue warbler. Just before 

 reaching the lock a couple of j uncos 

 perched on the rail and engaged in what 

 seemed to us a very heated discussion, 

 until finally one of them, with a chip of 

 command, flew to the shore, the other 

 following in a moment with a note of 

 protest. The latter's idea doubtless was 

 to remain with a good thing in hand 

 rather than venture into pastures new 

 of unknown possibilities. 



On our return trip, the weather being 

 calm, no birds were: 



"Buffeted and baffled, with the gusty gale," 

 hence our only stowaways were a couple 

 of yellow warblers, who spent most of 

 their time in one of the offices catch- 

 ing flies on the wall, and we were obliged 

 to resort to other resources for our en- 

 tertainment, and found at least artistic 

 as well as botanical enjoyment in look- 

 ing at the great bunches of golden rod, 

 yellow cone flowers and pale primroses, 

 a combination of yellows that formed an 

 exquisite blend, and which covered the 

 embankment of the great willow dike on 

 St. Clair Flats, that seems fast running 

 into a state of dilapidation and decay. 

 But it is a delightful sail down the wil- 

 low-bordered lane of blue water, a stray 

 bit of Venice with Venice left out, as it 

 were, and where no angry waters toss 

 the brave mariner and consequently sea- 

 sick traveler across mighty billows, a 

 performance which is a by no means 

 charming accessory to one's erstwhile 

 home on the bounding deep. 



Alberta A. Field. 



116 



