230 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



and inanimate, he was devoting his powers to the production 

 of that wonderful music. In the short spare I here allot 

 Ddysein cannot describe the different notes, and must leave. 

 '! for Borne other time. To say that they were, flute-like 

 would be to slander the bird, for surely no flute ever pro- 

 duced such mellow, liquid tones. It was music of mi- 

 ni i.v Bweetness, thai on u •& never would he forgotten 



between the notes a long iiause, that made them most im- 

 pressive, '' i kfarl ill iretoliear the continuation of 

 the melody, t: ■ ait n «rg (I Dllgh 1 discovered late: 

 that the little bird had a song), but simply the utterance of 

 a few notes. Soon ii ceased, and the bird flew into Die near 

 forest, where I soon disco 1 red it busily feeding Upon the 

 borriesi i . i.i; shrub, tot ■•■ \ • ndaa! branches of which it 

 was clinging, now and then dashing at a fugitive bunch, ap- 

 parently as intent upon this occupation as in his melodious 

 lay of a few minutes before. Soon lie ceased feeding, and 

 commenced preening himself upon a naked limb; then, 

 after smoothing himself out as it were, and drawing in and 

 stretching out his neck— probably to accumulate "power" — 

 he suddenly dashed at a single berry, swallowed it to clear 

 his throat, and recommenced to trill. He had uttered but a 

 few liars when he silently ilew to a dead branch; a few more, 

 and he winged his way to a swinging "liane," where he hung 

 suspended above a little ravine, in which is sunk a tiny 

 Stream, whose tinkling waters made music, though not so 

 sweet and liquid as his. Then ho disappeared in the dark 

 recesses of the forest, where it would be useless to follow 

 him, but whence came at intervals the ventrilonuial music 

 that seemed to float over my head and around me, thougl 

 the bird was afar. This bird is called by my mountaineer 

 friends, who have a name, and an applicable one, for every tiling 

 in the forest, the- 'Sifflenr Montague" or ' 'Mountain AYhistler." 

 I afterward had one in captivity for several weeks, and the 

 notes for his behavior, song and food wculd till a column of 

 type that my readers might think could be put to better use, 

 but which would be valuable to the ornithologist as the first 



a irds, I think, of an intimate acquaintance with this species. 

 But lei ns go on. T will leave the deep valley behind me, with 

 the roar of the waterfall gradually falling, first toa monoton- 

 ous hum, then ceasing entirely, and climb the bed of another 

 water-course, now dry, waiting for the summer rains. Soon 

 I emerge into a glassy glade, surrounded by mango, coffee- 

 trees, and trees resembling the live oak. The mangos are 

 bristling with spikes of blossoms —white with them — but not 

 a bird nor a butterfly is hovering above them, though the sur- 

 rounding trees and shrubs are alive with them. This is a 

 fact I have long noticed, that the mango is ever deserted, 

 though adjacent trees may he vocal with bird music. What- 

 ever the reason. Heave for others to ascertain, though 1 may 

 be able to declare it later in the season. But, flitting across 

 this green glade, now bright under the rays of an ever- 

 brightening sun, are many birds; that is, many for this 

 island, for it is not abundant in species nor in numhers 

 j ither, save of the humming-bird. 



There is a tree full of warblers of strange species — of ,S T »- 

 crler or sugar-birds— a bird resembling our yellow warbler, 

 several of the more strictly fly-catching birds, and a few 

 Sparrows, grosbees and blackbirds. The three species of 

 humming-birds are well represented, and dash hither and 

 thither seeking their favorite food, indulging in mimic 

 but lies and amorous caresses. I push on, after an hour's 

 stop, perhaps, over a rugged trail made by the half-wild 

 cattle as they travel from glade to glade, and crossing 

 another stream, climbinga hill, and descending into a ravine, 



I climb the steep slope of the hill on which my cabin is 

 perched. Everything is as I left it five hours hefore. The 

 door, which is merely kept from blowing open by a stick 

 braced against it, hasnot been opened; but Ifindon the floor 

 a clusterof oranges, a branch of fragrant lime flowers for my 

 humming-birds, and a tastefully arranged bunch of roses 

 from one of the girls. While I am putting the finishing 

 touches to my bird notes the girl comes in with my lunch, 

 ami my little cjiasxriirs arrive with their collection of 

 humming-birds. They only hunt at certain times of the 

 day. when I can be near to attend to the little captives, ac- 

 err.ling to my instructions, for they have a cruel way of 

 tying them together if they keep them long. Each boy is 

 in himself a study, had I time now to give him attention. 



II is clad simply in a shirt, ragged and rent, and if his 

 picture were taken it would not bo necessary to write be- 



ertlr it, as we read is necessary in some old painting, "This 

 is a boy." They are finding some new things every day, and 

 BBtliej have got the idea that I am collecting everything in 

 shape of bird, beast, insect and reptile, they bring me the 

 results of each day's "find." Sometimes it is a snail, a fat 

 caterpillar, hideous in its slimy skin, a butterfly, a beetle, or 

 a spider. At one time, from an incautious remark that I 



i . ro the effect that I would like a specimen of. the cutjonsj 

 land-crab which abounds in the ravines and rivulet banks, 

 they conceived the idea of supplying me with the crustacean 

 just mentioned. Each boy and girl on the place resolved to 

 be the first to furnish me with the ooveted crab. The con- 

 sequenoe was i hot my place was soon overran, with Bhefl- 

 | ugly red and yellow crabs— as large as a man's hand, 

 and from that to the most diminutive. One of the girls in 

 a mischievous mood brought in a crab with a family of 

 little ones— over a hundred— just large enough to be seen. 

 and Let them loose on the floor. Through some open window 

 while. I was absent some giant crab would be dropped on 

 hi Loor to await my arrival. This was not done in a spirit 

 of mischief, but from an earnest desire to aid me in my 



1 ileus. 



ii':. r I could not Rtirwithoul coming in COn- 



tuotwUka sle I: il tcxrald not put my foot out of 



bed without a shudder of apprehension. Of nights I would 



be awakened by a rattling of lie 1 



discover that some crab had got thirsty during the night, 



i ' * i I a ;W in ' sckgof a 



bottle. Or, as one other night, when my slumbers were 

 broken by a mysterious rattling, and I awoke thinking that, 

 as J. B. hud prophesied, the "jumbies" had come for me (ns 

 they come, for everybody who sleeps alone in a strange 

 house), to find another crab veviug his soul in vain en- 

 deavors to shin the broom handle. It may be surmised that 

 Isoon informed my corps of naturalists that I could dis- 

 pense with their services, and now I am again a lone investi- 

 gator, dependent upon his sole endeavors. In the afternoon 

 I sit down by the. loop-hole that serves as window (where, 

 by raising my eyes, I can at tiny time look off upon the 

 peaceful (larribbean Sea), gather my birds about me, and 

 after noting their measurements and other data necessary to 

 aid in their identification, proceed to skin and preserve 

 them preparatory to their long journey to the "States." 

 liis near sunset wheal this is finished, and after supper I 

 climb into my hammock, or sit on my threshold, watching 

 the sun go down behind the mountains. If I were a little 

 further to the north I could see. him down clear to the sea; 

 and, in fact, I often climb a spur of a near hill, where are 

 buried the ancestors of the present residents of Landat, 

 and watch the sun as ho dips below the sea, just gilding with 

 his parting rays the rude crosses that mark the last resting- 

 place of those buried beneath them. 



But what I have been most disappointed in as the sun sets, 

 is the absence of that prolonged twilight of evening which 

 makes our evenings of early summer in tho North so de- 

 lightful; when, after the sun goes down, there remains 

 that blissful lingering of day with night, when the softened 

 light fades so gradually away that we cannot tell at what 

 precise moment or how it left ns, and when the song of the 

 robin fills the. air with melody, that many other of our birds 

 keep up in the fields and orchards till late at night. There 



is none of that here. More than once I have said t ! 



as the sun hid his face behind the dark ridge of mountain, 

 leaving tho trees sharply outlined against the clear sky — 

 more than once I have repeated: "Now I will take my pipe 

 and sit in the doorway and enjoy the twilight." But. I had 

 scarcely found and filled my pipe, and settled myself com- 

 fortably in doorway or hammock when twilight was gone, 

 and the fast gathering darkness had hid the valleys, and was 

 climbing the western slopes of the mountains. The stars 

 wore already out, shining with a liquid brilliancy that causes 

 voir to forget the absence of dusk, and you give yourself up 

 to the contemplation of the lighted heaves, losing , ' : 5 

 in thought, wandering perhaps in meditation back to the 

 land you have left, over which the same aky.atretchoB and 

 stars gleam, but not with the clearness of the one, nor the 

 soft brilliancy of the other, at least not at this present sea- 

 son. There is none of that vesper song with which our 

 Northern birds hail tho evening to be heard here. The few 

 birds in the thickets sing or chirp a little, but with no song 

 peculiarly characteristic of evening. The only sounds that 

 come to my ear are the cries of frogs and grasshoppers from 

 the borders of the forest. There is a frog here that ever repeats 

 in his cry the word "Oharaib ! Charaib !" as if lamenting the 

 departure of the Carib from this place, his once peaceful 

 abode. Like the cry of one in distress, that plaintiff wail 

 breaks the stillness of night from dusk till daybreak. 



And, speaking of Caribs, this brings me to say that my 

 next move is into the fastnesses of tho mountains of tho 

 Atlantic side of the island, where exist tho last remnant of 

 that once-powerful people. They live secluded from the 

 world, holding no intercourse with other people; naked, 

 they wander at will, without houses; they sleep on the 

 ground, on a bed of leaves; if a stranger appear in their 

 country they fly still further into the forest, and return 

 only when he has departed. Such are the stories told me, 

 and my curiosity has been excited to such a degree that I 

 start for their stronghold next week. This, therefore, wall 

 be the last opportunity for writing for at least two months. 

 The pictures that I now have of the magnificent scenery of 

 this island will, I hope, be supplemented, by those of the 

 drills, such as have never been yet obtained. I shall be 

 much disappointed if ray researches do not prove valuable 

 to both Professors Henry and Baird— in ethnology as well as 

 ornithology; the field certainly is new. 



In reading over this letter, it occurs to me that my readers 

 will he much disappointed that there are no perilous ad- 

 ventures; no encounters with wild beasts, or even descrip- 

 tions of a day's sport with game birds. But, while I assure, 

 them that my life alone in this tropical forest has not been 

 devoid of stirring incident; that I have climbed mountains, 

 scaled precipices; have in my collection serpents, centipedes, 

 scorpions, wild-cats— in fact, a goodly list of foes to man— 

 at the same time I would remind them that my object was 

 to detail only B day's duties in the every-day run of camp 

 life as I have commenced it, I have in my journal already 

 accumulated much material for letters that may seem to 

 them the narration id' unreal or fictitious events, but that 

 are merely the frequent experience of a sojourner in these 

 wilds. To plunge at once into jungle and unknown forest 

 before I have obtained a knowledge of the mode of life best 

 suit td, or have become in any way aoclimated, would be a 

 folly that experience I hope will prevent. To attempt to 

 describe the beauty, grandeur, and overpowering luxuriance 

 of these mountain forests in a single letter would be absurd. 

 "Therefore." as the good old country deacon generally sums 

 up, pardon me that I have not made my letter more abound- 

 ing in exciting events. If my next are not perfeotfliteBerauav 

 S-JW*e("SO to speak") of hair-breadth escapes', terrible en- 

 counters, etc., etc, the blame must attach to the country, 

 the climate, but not to me. But a glance at the thermometer 

 shows roc it is time bo retire; that is, about nine o clock, for 

 I , :s just 70 degrees, i close the door, fasten it with 

 i e 'anguish the candle, and tumble into my ham- 

 mock, surrounded by solitude and darkness, which some- 

 times— I say sometimes— make a fellow think of a home. . 

 Fred. JReveislt, 



fonnel. 



THE NEW YORK BENCH SHOW. 



TO say that the dog show held in this city last week was 

 a success would but poorly con voy an icl B ' : 



result really was. Itwasa magnificent triumph for the dogs 

 andfor the projector! of il. ihov fife on kion if on any 

 pravions occasion has tie ro e i t n ;< u bled in this city such 

 a number of people at (ine time, and representing so much 

 of the culture, wealth and fashion of the town. That such 

 a collection I f 1 : ee -. WaS I - t gotten together before in any 

 country we very much doubt, for. 1. 1; n i | ; may have 



beaten us in point of numbers at one Lime in London, yet in 

 quality our show . , ■-.,; ahead, torthe reason thai in the 

 sporting classes our entries far outnumbered those of any 

 other show. The actual entries, including the Specials, 

 numbered 1,195, and allowing for puppies and collections 

 oovered by single entries, there were probably 1,300 animals 

 on exhibition. In our account of the show we must ask I he 

 indulgence of our readers, from the fact, as is well known, 

 that Mr. Tileston, our general editor, was a member of the 

 Committee of the ■Westminster Kennel Club, and having 

 direction of the details of tho show ess Unable to give the 

 necessary time to studying the dogs. Hence our report will, 

 lack that criticism which it is our custom to provide. There 

 were so many "lions" ami soman;, good dogs in the show, that 

 it is difficult to tell where to begin. Probably nothing was 

 more interesting than one of the earliest events of the show; 

 that is. the appearance in the judging ring of the ri spectir.e 

 kennels of Messrs. Theo. Morford of Newton, N. ,1., and L. 

 H. Smith of Strathroy, Canada, to decide the bet of oim 

 hundred dollars foi beauty. The fiat of the judge was 

 against Mr. Morford, and we certainly did not envy the 

 former his task. Ten handsomer setters were probably 

 never in the ring together, and in addition to their beauty, 

 it is well known that both kennels turn out as good field dogs 

 iis any in the country. The champion classes did not fill 

 quite as well as we had expected, and I'ride of tho Border 

 being absent, the contsal in Class I was narrowed down to 

 Mr, Smith's Leicester and .'■!>- ■ : : i ■ Loh&'s Ranger II, the 

 former winning. In the bitch class Mr. Smith was Bgfti 

 successful, taking first with Dart, the other two entries being 

 highly commended. In tho champion Irish class. Pluukct 

 having been withdrawn from competition, the prize lay be- 

 tween Mr. Surges' Bui'us and Mr. JoSvis 1 Elcho, the former 

 winning ; a judgment in which we do not concur. Both 

 dogs were, in splendid condition, Elcho particularly so, and 

 in coat and color as near the highest standard u il is possible 

 for dog to lie. 'the class was pronounced a good one. In 

 the bitch class L6u H. had almost a walk over. Tho de- 

 cision of the judges in the champion Gordon class surprised 

 many, as Bupert, although a fine dog, has not the quality of 

 either Grouse or Shot. Mr. Copeland had a walk over with 

 Norah, as Lou was not entered for competition; and Di, 

 although an excellent brood bitch, was scarcely up to Bench 

 Show form in that company. 



The champion pointers were a splendid lot, and although 

 we by no means concurred in Mr. Maedona's decision at 

 first, we are fain to admit, that on looking carefully over the. 

 dog afterward ho was not far wrong in placing Snap- 

 shot first. The dog was shown tinder every disadvantage. 

 He had landed from the steamer but the day previous, his 

 color is an unfortunate one, nrj being ticked with lemon 

 'he had the nppeunm i of tuff ing with thejnange, which 



e ! Lot ffisil Bftd, -I i -i ne. I .-tern are perfect; iii tlegi 



are rather light, and he is short, although very muscular, in 

 the quarters. We predict that if he stays, in this country, as 



we trust he will, that his progeny will be found an 



winners both on the show bench and in the Held, although 

 he is eight years old and his days of usefulness almost over. 

 Sensation was decidedly the best of the lot, barring perhaps 

 ■Snapshot, Little Flak* veis looking as handsome as a 

 picture, and it is unfortunate that there was not a class for 

 small-sized champions, when he would have swept i 

 as he did at Baltimore. The bitches were, as compared with 

 the dogs., not a remarkable chess, the Columbus Kennel Club 

 winning with Belle, a handsome liver and white. 



The demand upon our space om] -to postpone a re- 



view of the open classes until next week, when, as our paper 

 is to be enlarged to 24 pages, we can give the subject more 

 attention. 



There have been many lessons learned by this first New 

 York Show, among them the necessity for a better marking 

 of tho dogs when they tire received. To accomplish this, 

 next year ear seals will be dampen on the collars with iin-lal 

 cheeks to correspond. It is also ro be hoped that a better 

 i e fldants will'be provided on the next occasion. 



■..-, it -.ei-. however, with the limited >'•• < • ! li control, Mr. 

 Lincoln did remarkably well, and has received the approval 

 of the club. 



The following is a list of awards which were not completed 

 up to the time of our going to press last week, and were 

 omitted in that issue: 



Cifcnl Champion EmUskSeltcr Dys.—]. I,etMen lemon and whit?, 



years by Llewellm's Dam, nut or his tiill It.; L. II. Smith, sin oir, 



'", .', , |,i V M t) " lOiL"""' '' >"IO" ",'' l,.m..»> tunnr, hv \l ilrili HllC-l 



House, West Kirb.v, Cheshire, England. 



Clou '. — Ctaapfon English S'etUr Bitika.—l. Dun, blue Bel ton, 5 years 

 by Llewellin's 1'rL.cc, out ol Dura; L. H, Smrti, Strati 

 V It. C,! May. niiiuce and white, ;i year*, by Joe. out of V 

 dote Morford, Novum. N..T. 11. i-.: Ma^iet. le.uk iuel white ticked. 

 ;.■ years, by Victor, out of Daisy; C. S. WbbcoU, West l'hiludei|Mia. 



CZomS.— Champion Irish StUztVagt.— t. Hufus, deep ted 5 yrtrs by 

 Trench'* Shot, nut, nf Treuch'a LimCe Mno1 I l«dale, Mich, 



y n.c: Ms ■ ■ ',, '■ ! out or Nell; Dr. WilUam Jarria. Clermont, 

 X. U. II. 1'.; Jiaik ilora.erlv known u« Joe) net, C) y.sirs, try Milo, out 

 otMollie; J. F. Uaihven, Port ltichmmnl. siulea Llaud. C, Duke, 

 red, 4 years; Campbell Stewart, No. 152 Fifth Avenue. 



CUm 2.— Champion Irish Setter Sitcha.-\ hoo II., light red and white, 

 by Glouderee 



