ILLINOIS AUDUBON SOCIETY 11 



nection with the Arboretum there will be a fine reference 

 library, in which plant lore will be the predominating objective. 



On the wall of the history room in a great school, in North- 

 ern New York, built by another Chicago man for the purpose 

 of furnishing a rural community proper education, there hangs 

 a tablet on which is inscribed the following sentiment: 



"Constantly search your mind for its best thoughts, culti- 

 vate your highest ideals, for without vision the people perish." 



The vision of such men as Joy Morton, W. H. Miner, and the 

 founder of the Smithsonian Institution, when accompanied by 

 the ability to carry out their ideals, puts the people of the 

 United States under a lasting obligation of grateful apprecia- 

 tion. 



The Morton estate is a favorite breeding ground for Vesper 

 Sparrows, Bobolinks, Dickcissels and in a secluded field a pair 

 of the rather rare Lark Sparrow was found in July. Killdeers 

 and Sandpipers found the shores of the artificial lake very much 

 to their liking, and showed their appreciation of the protection 

 afforded by being very tame, only flying a short distance when 

 flushed. 



Orpheus Moyer Schantz 



The Sport of the Superior Being 



We print, without comment, a copy of the letter which was 

 sent to the Chicago Evening Post, on September 10, 1921. 



The Editor of The Chicago Evening Post, 



Dear Sir :- 



A great many good people are joyous these days to have 

 another shot at the partridge, the American pheasant, and the 

 noblest bird of our Northern woods — perhaps the last one. The 

 bird is reported plentiful in the woods of Wisconsin, but this is 

 not true everywhere. 



On our way home, the other day, a business man, who de- 

 lighted to shoot partridges, said to me, "Judging by the hundreds 

 that are going to hunt the partridge, there won't be a single bird 

 left to tell the tale." 



A week before we left our cabin in the Northern woods we 

 had the pleasure of a visit from a foreigner. One day after 

 tramping through the forest, he was touched by the silence of 

 them. "Your woods are beautiful, but dead!" he exclaimed, 

 "there is not a living thing in them." I told him that years ago 

 these woods were very much alive, but just as our noble forests, 

 so their denizens were ruthlessly destroyed. 



The tiger kills when he is hungry ; the Indian killed for food ; 

 but white man, who thinks himself a superior being, kills for 

 lust and pleasure. 



Jens Jensen 



