7 ——e Se 
Duc. 25, 1884.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
425 
was steered by a paddle, and made very good speed. The 
sensations were certainly odd, sitting squatted on a candle 
box, which was contributed by myself, and no part of her 
original outfit, for like my friend ‘‘Nessmuk," the islanders 
have become adepts in sitting on their own heels, and still 
more odd, when in a fresh puff, it would be, it seemed to me, 
aclose match between the capsizing force of the wind and 
the keel evening weight on the outrigger; odd enough, but 
not comfortable, and by sunset I had had enough of it, and 
was glad to get again on board, and join the midshipmen in 
celebrating Christmas eve. ; 
And now, Mr. Editor, safe back to the ship, and’she with 
a good offing, I'll bid you praschicha, which is Sitka Oreole 
Russian for au renovr, or in our ir “Pl see you later. 
And next week I will ask your readers to finish the yoyage 
with me, one which will take them across the Gulf of Manar, 
up the Malabar coast into the Arabian Sea, give you a peep 
at Bombay, and another at the wonderful Cave Temple of 
Hlephanta, with good weather and most of the way a fair 
wind, PIsEco, 
Curistmas Day, 1883. 
CAMP FLOTSAM. 
VIl.—HIBING TO THE LAND OF “‘PERENNIAL BASS.” 
ere old camp was reorganized for quite an extended 
outing in the summer of 1884. While the earth was 
yet white with winter, the details of a long proposed cam- 
paign among Canadian lakes were perfected. The chosen 
place was three hundred miles away, and the transportation 
thitherward of tents and all the paraphenalia of a camp 
seemed no light task, But what toil will not the angler 
camper undergo for those annual summer days of barbaric 
life, far from the tides of commerce and the sound of the 
ceaseless tread of humanity, in the pursuit of its golden bub- 
bles. There was to be an abandonment of the old fished-out 
places with their throng of anglers; a new crusade had been 
preached, and we were to set out on a path which had neyer 
been trodden by the feet of a camper. 
So while ‘‘Woodcraft” was still damp from the press, and 
its precepts fresh in our minds, we hardened our hearts and 
followed the dispensation which had been delivered to us on 
mountain heights through twenty years, amid storm and 
tempest, and set out on our rebellious way. In our carnal 
minds we ignored the teachings of the book, and deliber- 
ately packed three barrels with two wall tents, a table fly 
and a camp stove, and forwarded them in advance to King- 
ston, Ont. This done, and it only remained for the party, 
with the necessary clothing for a two months’ camp, and 
rods and tackle for the campalen, to follow by such routes 
as might seem best to each. There were to he five in the 
company; all were more or less experienced in the ways of 
camp and forest life. Three of the number were veterans, 
and of these, one was a lady who, since her marriage, had 
accompanied her husband in most of his annual camps, 
There was Truthful James, who had already been to spy out 
the promised land, and had returned, bedring trophies finer 
to our eyes than all the pomegranates, or the grapes, or figs 
of Hschol. He was about to Jay aside the cares of office, 
vacate, for a time, the white building at the intersection of 
Broadway and Park Row, and make his fourth pilgrimage 
to Canada. here, too, was the Reformer, a companion in 
three former camps, and an enthusiast over a rod. The 
Madame, who in those other camps had always managed to 
score the largest fish, and the writer, who humbly aspired 
to work himself under the edge, at least, of the cloud of 
glory in which the party expecied to return euyeloped, The 
fifth, and by no means the least important member, was 
George, the colored factotum of the camp that was to be. 
An old salt, who had sailed every ocean during years of 
service on 4 whalerand in the navy, a graduate of a city 
restaurant, he had taken a post-graduate course in camp in 
other years with us, and was skilled in camp cooking and 
in the performance of camp duty. 
We were of the grand army of outers; sve were bent on 
an eight or ten-weeks camp, aud we were not going to 
rough it, but to smooth it, How far we departed—from 
the way Jaid down in “Woodcratt’—will become apparent 
as the history of our ouling progresses. Weset out with two 
arlicles under anathema—the wall tent and the camp stove— 
of their advantages we will speak later. 
As a vade mecum for the lone camper or for 4 party of two 
or three on a tramp, ‘* Woodcraft” is withouta peer, but with 
parties of five or six aud with ladies among them, difficulties 
will arise, for which it gives no solution; in short makes 
camping for these an impossibility, or at least a miserable 
affair and dangerous to the health. We will discuss this 
more fully when we come to speak of the camp stove. 
At the final moment Truthful James was detained by a 
new rush of official duties, and the balance of the party 
were forced off with the promise of being soon joined by 
that worthy. Theseveral members agreed on one route— 
that by the West Shore & Buffalo Railroad to Middletown, 
and thence by the N. Y., Ontario & Western to Oswego. 
To one shaking off the dust of the city and going a-fish’ 
ing, whether it be for trout or the beayerkill or for the sport 
to be had on the Great Lakes or among the Thousand Islands, 
when he is full of enthusiasm as every angler is on such 
occasions, no route is more seductive than the one above 
named. The journey for hours along the N. Y., Ontario & 
‘Western is amid scenery sufficient to keep him in a ferment; 
along streams which rush among the rocks; with here a 
pool and a riffle where he is willing to swear he could raise 
a two-pounder; there, just under the ruins of an old log dam, 
another for allthe world like the one where last summer he 
took eight beauties, meanwhile steadily climbing the moun- 
tain ranges of Sullivan with a wall of rock on one hand and 
dashing waters on the other, the angler is carried through as 
picturesque scenery as ever unfolded before his vision, and 
his hand tightens involuntarily upon his rod, and he longs 
for the hour which is to bring him his first cast. 
All this we experienced and enjoyed in our journey over 
the Ontario & Western. Before starting we had expected to 
connect with the steamer of the above-named road at Oswego 
for Kingston, but, it being early in the season, the steamer 
had not yet begun her trips, The tickets we had purchased 
were promptly exchanged yal agent at Oswego in obedi- 
ence to a telegram from Mr, J. C. Anderson, the general 
passenger agent, and we were furnished transportation via 
Cape Vincent. The angler bound for Canadian waters or 
the St. Lawrence will not regret his selection of the Ontario & 
Western route, Its line of boats, which run in connection 
wilh its trains in the summer season to the Thousand Islands, 
offers extra inducements to all fishermen who wish to cast a 
line in these famous waters at small expense, Running 
_ through the celebrated trout region of Sullivan and Delaware 
_ counties, within easy reach of the Willewemoc and Beaver- 
a — >» nie 
kill, and extending to waters abounding in black bass and 
maskelonge, it is fairly entitled to be called ‘‘the fishing line 
of New York State. 
At 11 o’clock P. M. our long davy’s journey was ended, 
the route arranged for the morrow, and we sought a few 
hours’ hurried rest. In the gray of the dawn we were 
aroused and were soon gliding out past the old fort on our 
way tothe North. At one of the stations a party, whose 
array of rods and baskets betokened that they were on the 
Same errand as ourselves, boarded the train. They were 
barely seated when the mystic sign of the craft was passed 
between us and the destination of each inquired into and 
iven. They were out for afew days of bass fishing at 
Texico Point, on Lake Ontario, and in a few minutes so 
enthused the Reformer that he was almost ready to lay off 
and jointhem. But their good-natured envy over our pros- 
pective camp and the prediction that we would have grand 
sport made him content. We were soon at Watertown 
Junction, mingled with the crowd of drummers, tourists 
and local travelers in the hubbub attending a change of 
cars. Many of these were on their way to Clayton, and 
rods were visible everywhere. It seemed as if nearly every- 
body was going a-fishing, Yet there was a host of young 
people with satchels just up from New York, and old ladies 
with bandboxes, who ran men cown in their efforts to find 
seats. We were glad when the Cape was reached and the 
‘throng turned toward the steamer which was bound down 
the river. We mounted the little boat which runs to Kings- 
ton, and felt rejoiced that we were fast getting beyond the 
jurisdiction of Uncle Sam, The first convention at Chicago 
had just been held, and our joy was enhanced by the thought 
that in Jess than two hours we would be where Stalwarts 
and Half-breeds would cease from troubling, and we would 
be at rest. There were few on board, and we took posses- 
sion of the forward deck with our luggage. Here, as noon 
approached, we spread our Junch and spoke aloud the 
thought that within the next twenty-four hours we would 
regale ourselves among the odors arising from the camp-fire. 
By the time we had finished our lunch we were in sight 
of Kingston, where a team had heen engaged to transport 
the luggage over to Battersea, a hamlet sixteen miles to the 
north, and at the outlet of Loughbridge Lake, on one of the 
islands of which, to be located somewhere in its expanse of 
twenty-three miles of water, we had determined to set our 
tents. Custem inspection over, the party disembarked and 
a committee on frying pans, pots and kettles set forth in 
search of those indispensables. Leaving them to deal with 
the practical we sauntered off to the point—the Tete Du 
Pont—to recall the events which have made the spot his- 
toric. Here in the old days the view was unbroken, and 
one could look far over the waters tothe east and south. 
Here we traced the lines of old Fort Frontenac, the ancient 
triangular walls of which, laid more than two hundred 
years ago, still crop out and are discernible in the middle of 
the otherwise smooth parade ground of the modern barracks. 
What dreams of empire in this Western world filled the 
brains of the old statesmen of the seventeenth century, and 
of which these old walls form apart. Yonder on the rock 
of Quebec, on the river above, with Frontenac here, Erie 
there beyond, and Du Quesne on the far-off Ohio, stretched 
that line of posts, even to the mouths of the Mississippi, 
which was to make French dominion sure. But the hand on 
the dial of human progress was not to be turned backward: 
the continent was a blackboard which was to be kept clear for 
the solution of the problem of seli-government. The dream 
was dispelled, but at whatcost! Wolfe in victory at Quebec, 
Braddock in the gloom of defeat before DuQuesne, and the 
walls of old Fort Frontenac, which Bradstreet and his New 
York men carried on that August day a hundred and thirty- 
six years ago, haye crumbled into the same dust as the brains 
which conceived them and the hands whose might disturbed 
the peace of the world. Yet what names were lifted into 
history, and none of them are brighter than that of the young 
commandant, Gen. Montcalm. From these old walls he 
went forth to the capture of Forth Ontario, at Oswego, in 
1756; the next year Fort William Henry fell before him, in 
the next he repulsed Abercrombie from before tie walls of 
old ‘‘Ti,” and the next saw him standing face to face with 
the avenger on the Heights of Abraham, where he went 
down with a lost cause, and the dream of a French empire 
on the Western Continent was over forever, From the 
shadows of a century earlier emerged the doughty Count 
Frontenac, that genius who ruled here so long and well for 
his master, and in whose fertile brain was planned that ex- 
pedition of French and Indians, which, under the leader- 
ship of 8t. Helene, made the ‘noche triste” for ancient Schen- 
ectady and left that old town in ashes and in blood. It was 
in fitting recognition of his services, his loyalty and his ener- 
getic administration, that his name was given to the town 
and fort, But with English supremacy the fort disappeared, 
the name Kingston was bestowed on the town, and all that 
remains in honor of the old Governor-General is the inscrip- 
tion ‘‘Fort Frontenac, 1672,” over the arched gateway which 
opens into the barracks. 
While we talked with a young lieutenant and listened to 
a bit of history, George came to tellus that the committee 
on camp hardware had completed their purchases and that 
the teamster was waiting for us, so with a hurried farewell 
to officer and fort, we started to rejoin the party. The bar- 
rels containing the tents were at the express office, and we 
found that a permit from the Custom House was necessary 
before they could be delivered to us, So tothe Custom 
House we went, where we were informed that our canvas 
was liable to duty, the only relief from the payment of 
which was the deposit of a sum equal to about half the value 
of the tents, which was to be refunded when we should take 
those articles from the Dominion. The custom ofticer, in 
explaining the reason for the duty, strack the marrow of 
protection when he said: ‘It is because you can buy them 
here.” As those same tents cost in Canada more than double 
the price which we paid for them in New York, we could 
see the point, and also how, without the duty, a modest 
profit might have been made on them to the disadvantage of 
Canadian home industry, We made the depesit, and after 
seeing our traps safely loaded, we boarded an ancient tally- 
ho which was crammed with rural passengers, and began 
our lumbering way over the last division of our journey. 
For awhile the old stone houses scattered along the road 
served to interest us, but these were soon left behind, and 
after two or three miles we were traversing a monotonous 
region, along fields burned with the drouth, with houses far 
apart, and ledges and boulders of rock on either side, denot- 
ing an approach toa God-forsaken region. Tired of the 
scenery, we turned to interview the passengers. Soon we 
found one who was from Battersea, and him we plied with 
anxious inquiries concerning the sport to be had onthe lake. 
He “never fished,” but the scant information which we 
gleaned from him, imparted in five words, was far more 
alluring than an hour’s narration by an angler of his exploits 
there would have been; it was; ‘You can get fish enough.” - 
For three or four hours we toiled on with a single stop; 
this was made for the purpose of feeding the horses and 
watering the driver, in which latter ceremony we all took 
part. Then our high-born thoughts turned to what the lone 
*“Kinetisher’ wouldfhave done under like circumstances, so 
thronging around the wooden pump we drank cup after cup 
of the sparkling water in silence and standing. Darkness 
was fast coming on when we plunged down a steep hill and 
found ourselves on the border of a morass, which was over- 
grown with water-flag, bulrushes, and heaven knows what 
else, and on one side of which was a sluggish Stygian stream 
bordering with mud and ooze. This was the outlet of 
Loughborough Lake. The perfume from rotting bogs, de- 
caying vegetation and stagnant pools saluted our olfactories. 
The malaria-inelined member of the company shuddered— 
had his trip to escape chills ended thus? A short distance 
on was Battersea which, stretching along the miry stream, 
rendered ifs appearance still more dismal. Here at the door 
of an extremely modest wayside inn we alighted. Over our 
heads @ sign with the inscription ‘‘Queen’s Own,” reminded 
us that we were aliens, Never were anglers more cordially 
greeted and sought to be made comfortable than were we by 
the host, ‘‘Alec.” Van Alstyne, and his better half. The 
supper of ham and eggs was promptly dispatched and then, 
anxious for rest, knowing that the morning would bring the 
double labor of searching for a camping place and, when 
the same should be found perhaps miles away, the double 
labor of camp building and carrying luggage thither, we 
prepared to tum in, not, however, without first taking 
the precaution to order George to secure a boat against an 
early morning exploring expedition, 
This dene we sank on the feathers with a sigh of relief, 
haunted somewhat though with the thoughts of that marsh 
across the creek, not twenty rods away. We were fast drift- 
ing into slumber, when through the open window came a 
faint, far-off strain of music, like that from a string instru- 
ment or on Afolian harp. We listened eagerly for a 
moment, wondering whether culture had touched this re- 
mote hamlet with her scepter, when nearer it came, a soft, 
almost spiritual note—bi-i-s-z-i-p. A mosquito, another and 
another. Holy Moses! a band of butchers! The room was 
filled with them, outdoors there were more, with a reserve 
in the marsh. Under the sheets, head and ears, we went: 
the mosquitoes too. Out] we came and they were there to 
welcome us. We tried a blanket but they were experts and 
Were soon in with us. Then we formed in line of battle, 
and there were charges and counter charges far into the 
night. At last, the deep concentration of mind—of pur- 
pose, as it were—with the gentle exercise of the combat, 
brought drowsiness, and ‘‘the balm of hurt minds” at last 
made us insensible and oblivious of it all, but not until we 
had fully determined to ship our luggage back to the Bb. 
Lawrence and try less bloody and more promising fields. 
WAWAYANDA, 
alatuyal History. 
HORNS OF THE FEMALE CARIBOU, 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
Iwas greatly interested in Mr. Montague Onamberlain’s 
letter on this subject in your issue of Dec, 18, and as my 
name appears in it you will, perhaps, give me the space in 
which to reply. If Mr. Chamberlain had quoted from my 
note he would have seen that it was not written from the ~ 
standpoint of an observer. The statement was made that 
“during a recent visit to the home of the woodland caribou, 
I received some information which, perhaps, gives a hint as 
to one use of the antlers to the female Rangifer,” and I then 
went on to state what this possible use might be. I cannot 
think, therefore, that the implied charge of carelessness of 
observation made in Mr. Chamberlain’s note is altogether 
deserved. |. 
The “information” alluded to was given by three intelli- 
gent Canadians, the Eden brothers, who had for many years 
devoted a portion of the winter to caribou hunting. They 
stated that if was a common thing for the larger and stronger 
deer to driye away the less powerful ones from the pits which 
they had dug in the snow for the purpose of reaching the 
moss below, and from what we know of the habits of many 
of the deer family, the statement is on its face a probable 
one. Moreover, one of the gentlemen quoted by Mr. Cham- 
berlain says himself that the old bucks do try to drive the 
smaller ones in winter and that the latter do defend them- 
selves with their horns; and if the young bucks why not 
sometimes the females? 
The savage, bullying way in which the elk, male and 
female, treat those weaker than themselves, is well known to 
all observers, When herding the cows during the rutting 
season, the bulls make savage lunges at the latter with their 
horns; and I have frequently seen a large cow drive a smaller 
oue out of her way by lowering her head and bunting at her 
as if about to pred her with horns, Ina private letter to 
me, written after the appearance of my note of Feb. 18, 1884, 
Judge Caton says: ‘‘You might have enlarged on the 
brutal disposition of the entire deer tribe. There is an 
utter want of sympathy by the old and strong for the young 
and feeble. In this the hog is vastly its superior. If one ig 
in distress the rest all make a fuss,” 
It is not worth while, however, to argue about the ques- 
tion as to whether the explanation suggested as one of the 
uses of the horns in the female caribou is or is not a probable 
one. This will be determined by future observation, and 
can take care of itself. A far more important question is 
brought up by Mr. Chamberlain, namely, do the female car- 
ibou, orreindeer, usually have horns? My knowledge on this 
subject amounts to nothing from personal observation, and I 
am therefore unable to add anything to what has already 
been published about it. I may, however, suggest to Mr. 
Chamberlain that if he can show that they are not usually 
furnished with these weapons he has made an interesting 
discovefy. I did not know that this had ever been ques- 
tioned, and the testimony of writers on the subject is unani- 
mous that in this genus alone among the Cervide the females 
are so armed. The testimony of the two gentlemen quoted 
by Mr, Chamberlain is yery good so far as it goes, but it is 
very far from being conchisive. 
The statement ‘‘that the female caribou is always or nearly 
always provided with horns” wasmade by me on the assump- 
tion that writers on this deer, from Sir John Richardson down, 
were to be trusted. If they have all been wrong, and if 
horns are seldom seen on the head of the female caribou, it 
