192 



RECREATION. 



The advent of the automobile has re- 

 sulted in lugging into our language of 

 another French word which is not needed. 

 The man who drives a team is known as 

 a driver, or coachman. The man who drives 

 a truck is known as a truckman. The man 

 who operates a railway locomotive, though 

 frequently miscalled an engineer, is prop- 

 erly an engine driver. The man who oper- 

 ates an automobile, is an automobile driver 

 to all intents and purposes, and there is no 

 sense in American people, who have no 

 knowledge of French, struggling with that 

 monstrosity among words by which the au- 

 tomobile driver is now designated. The 

 English language is good enough for Amer- 

 icans as it stands, and it is the height of 

 nonsense to embody foreign words that are 

 not needed. 



J. M. Van Huyck, of Lee. Mass., has had 

 the game laws of that State printed in 

 Italian and circulated among the Italians 

 of that city and vicinity. It would be well 

 for friends of game protection in all the 

 large towns and cities, especially in the 

 mining and manufacturing districts, to 

 adopt this plan. Many of the foreigners 

 who violate the game laws do not know 

 they are doing wrong until arrested. Com- 

 paratively few of these people would 

 violate a game law knowingly. An ounce 

 of prevention is worth a pound of cure. 



Mr. James B. Dill, the great corporation 

 lawyer, is making another of his phenom- 

 enal automobile tours through the wilds 

 and over the bad roads of the North woods. 

 His destination is Rangeley Lakes, Me., 

 and his plan when leaving this city, was to 

 penetrate some of the sparsely settled dis- 

 tricts of Quebec ; thence along the old Ben- 

 edict Arnold road. Mr. Dill is accom- 

 panied by his daughter, Miss Emma, and 

 they will no doubt have some interesting 

 stories to tell on their return, of weird ex- 

 periences encountered in their wild ride. 



In June last a man named Henry Pren- 

 tice was found dead in the Adirondack 

 woods. Some days later Jerry Parsons was 

 arrested and confessed that he had killed 

 Prentice, having mistaken him for a deer. 

 It seems that both men had been hunting 

 deer in violation of law, and that Parsons 

 got the first shot. It is a pity some other 

 hunter could not have got a bead on him. 



I am informed that the postal regula- 

 tions would not allow the placing of the 

 words and figures 'Game Hog No. 972," 

 or other number, on an envelope and the 

 sending of same through the mails. The 

 request I printed in July Recreation, p. 60. 



may be complied with in other respects. 

 Postal cards should not be used for this 

 purpose. 



William McAdoo, of Medina, Tenn., re- 

 cently killed 2 squirrels in violation of law 

 and paid a -fine of $25 each. The squirrels 

 would probably not weigh more than a 

 pound each and it would not seem that a 

 Tennessee farmer could afford to pay $25 

 a pound for meat as a regular thing. 



MUSTANG BILL'S LAMENT. 



STACY E. BAKER. 



01' Mustang Bill looked mighty glum 



When he struck the town agin ; 

 He'd been away, Bill had, fer years, 



An' it seemed er mighty sin, 

 Th' way they'd let ol' land marks go. 



"O, whar," Bill moaned, "O, whar 

 Is 'Five Ace,' Morton's 'Road to Hell,' 



Er Dingley's 'Easy Cha'r?'" 

 But nary a yap would answer Bill, 



Ez knew him in days gone by; 

 An' Mustang Bill, he stifled a sob 



An' wiped er tear from his eye. 

 "Whar's th' boys from ther 'Bright Eyes' 

 ranch 



Ez used to float this way. 

 Twict er year, with ther kiote yells 



An' er pocket of gilt edged pay?" 

 One er th' boys as knowed 01' Bill 



Give er solemn shake of th' head, 

 An' 01' Bill raised his glass of booze, 



An' drank ter th' days long dead. 



"But tell me, boys," sez Mustang Bill, 



"Hez yer enything left at all 

 Thet calls ter mind ol' times afore 



A warm town went ter ther wall ?" 

 An' ev'ry man of th' bloomin' bunch 



Set up er joyous shout, 

 "Bill, when it comes ter tenderfoots, 



Yer jes' can't beat us out!" 



I have known you through your pen 

 many years, back to the days of Dr. Rowe's 

 management of the American Field. In 

 those days, too, you made me happy by 

 complimenting an article I had written, en- 

 titled, "My First Elk." I wrote under the 

 name of "Sancho," and some years later I 

 wrote for Forest and Stream. Recrea- 

 tion is the greatest success of all and I 

 enioy it very much. 



F. N. Wood, Chicago, 111. 



"Is this the superintendent of the Metro- 

 politan Street Railway? Well, one of your 

 conductors insulted me this morning." 



"My dear sir, don't mention it." — Life. 





