PHOTOGRAPHY 



453 



release is held back in original position by a 

 piece of thread to which a fuse is attached. 

 When the fuse burns the thread, the power 

 of the spring" or rubber band is exerted on 

 the release and the exposure made. A piece 

 of paper lightly weighted may be attached to 

 this thread in such a way that it falls when 

 the thread is broken, thus denoting the ex- 

 posure has been made. The fuses may be of 

 thick wool, in lengths of about three feet. 

 These are soaked in a saturated solution of 

 saltpetre and dried. 



The fouling of the cable by trees or wires 

 must be guarded against. An experimental 

 journey should be made on each occasion be- 

 fore lighting the fuse, so that the time it takes 



to reach the desired height may be ascer- 

 tained. 



The more wind there is, the greater is the 

 weight of tail necessary. When the current 

 is so strong as to render the normal tail abor- 

 tive the kite plunges and whisks around so 

 that a sharp picture is impossible. After a 

 little practice it is fairly easy to keep the kite 

 suspended steadily. 



The most suitable time is after a prolonged 

 rainfall, and early in the morning or late in 

 the afternoon, when the sun is throwing long 

 shadows, the pictures have most vigor. Over- 

 exposure must be guarded against, and it is 

 best to use a ray-screen. The greater the al- 

 titude, the quicker must be the exposure. 



"THE CALL OF THE WILD" 



By RAYMOND EVENES 



Can't you hear her calling, Dicky, calling to Night times, when the woodcock whimpers 



the wild, high aloft, 



Our sister of the solitudes, sweet and unde- Can't you feel her stealing night with football 



filed, slow and soft, 



Singing in the silences that old, alluring With gentle fingers eager stretched to link 



strain, and lock in thine, 



Calling to the Long Trail beyond the last mo- To lead you up the Long Trail, your heart's 



rame r 



desire and mine? 



Can't you hear her calling, Dick, when the Somewhere in the North Land, along the 



wild goose goes Grand Divide, 



Honking high on herald wing northward to She waits beneath the seven stars, some silver 



the snows ; lake beside, 



And can you say her nay, Dick, dare you And sings a minor dr.eam-song of Indian 



doubt at all Summer days — 



When those golden trumpets sound the Long Of how the mystic sun-dog burns athwart the 



Trail call? autumn haze — 



Of vesper chaunting whitethroats and solemn 



laughing loons — 

 Wild water birds night-flying south — strange 



stars and mirrored moons- 

 Cold polar fires 



O comrade mine, this road rings false and 



hollow, 

 These shirts are too hard boiled to wear, 



this cake too sweet to swallow, 

 And its hike and strike the Long Trail, 

 more meet for men to follow ! 



