186 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Am. 35, 1892. 



THE OPEN AIR LIFE. 



Give me the life beneath an endless sky, 



Whoso blue afar the darker of the lake 

 Meets in horizoii kisses; here may I 



The echo of primeval hollows wake, 

 And in a joyotis and exultant cry 



My effervescent spirits partly slake, 

 Nor fear man's pigmy interdict. Here I may be 

 liike that which is around me— boundless, bold and free! 



'Tis some small comfort in tliis fettered time, 

 When man wibhin convention's prison broods, 



To feel I am not harnessed to the rhyme 

 And .iingle of her brainless platitude?; 



But that in freedom 1 may boldly climb 

 With Nature to her most mpjestic moods; 



Scale mountains— statid alone— or, eager, feel 



My pulses ansveer some swift moving keel. 



This is the grandest life that man can live; 



And happy he who knows it from his birib! 

 The freest and the best old earth can give— 



For 'tis indeed earth-given. 'Twixt the worth 

 And meaning of these words — which are the sieve 



Through which we drain our pleasures— world and earth. 

 There is a difference which doth not savor 

 Of much within the world— or the world's favor. 



And here the camp is pitched; and on the shore 

 The boats 'gin glimmer ia the light and blaze 



Of merry oamp-flres, round which goes a roar 

 Such as the Titans laughed In olden days. 



And tales are told— what though their years be more 

 Than those gaunt trunks the pioneer did blaze? 



They'll blossom, too, and will revivify 



Beneatli the influence of this life and sky. 



Charles Gordon Rogers. 



AS THE HOURS PASS. 



Bluish haze, that seems to absorb the fervent rays 

 of the sua, a "saturated solution" of heat as it were, en- 

 velops the landscape. The very leaves hang motion^ 

 less and limp, in silent protest against the melting heat. 



Qaiet reigns, save in the swamps where birds are bath- 

 ing on the margin of the still pools; there an occasional 

 twitter is heard, subdued and peevish as though the little 

 fellow who voiced it were ill at ease. 



Only the cuckoo is indifferent to the prevailing lethargy 

 which holds all animate nature. This fellow is in 

 his element, and industriously "paddles" himself from 

 tree to tree, through the glowing atmosphere, pausing to 

 utter at intervals that resounding koo! Tcoo! koo! koo! 

 which testifies to his enjoyment of the torrid heat. He 

 meets with encouragement from the locust, who answers 



his call with a peppery hizz z! This bird and 



the locust are associated in my mind with hot weather, 

 the voice of either is sufficient to recall hours of humid 

 suffering. 



At last relief is at hand. A murmur of delight in the 

 tree-tops, a whisper of welcome to the sea breeze, whose 

 gentle breathing they are quick to catch. Now it is rol- 

 licking among the boughs and dancing in a thousand tiny 

 ripples on the erstwhile lifeless water. All nature revives, 

 a new life courses the veins. 



The shadows lengthen with the westening sun. The 

 birds, though active, are more composed in their move- 

 ments, much of the vigorous life of early morning has 

 apparently deserted them, and an "I'm in no hurry" man- 

 ner takes its place. The hiz-zzz zzz of the locust, long- 

 continued and loud as before, is more jerky and irregular, 

 as though the poor fellow had wearied of the monotony 

 of his one song, and vainly essayed to add variety to the 

 refrain. 



For the last hour we have heard the pipes of the swamp 

 robin, a few rich notes 'pianissimo. Like the musicians 

 in an orchestra prej)aring for the overture, which ushers 

 in the evening's performance, these retiring birds are 

 tuning up for the concert at sunset. Indescribably sweet, 

 these open au- concerts, enjoyed by performers and audi- 

 ence alike, until the fading twilight rings the curtain 

 down. 



The last faint blush of sunset melts into dusk. The 

 hzeep-hzeep of a nighthawk flapping overhead in erratic 

 flight, falls with strange distincDness as we listen. Soon 

 it is lost in the distance and the hush of night is upon 

 valley and hill. 



The queriilous chirrup of a toad announces that a new 

 phase of life has entered into activity, and quickly the 

 darkness is resonant with little voices. From the damp 

 coverts on every hand come curious noises, quirks and 

 trills of insects and the rhythmic croon of crickets, while 

 a pungent earthy odor, redolent of ferns and mosses, 

 steals about us. Now it is a whippoorwill who chants his 

 love song in the gloom. 



The quiet chuckle of an owl arouses tne, an instant his 

 silhouette is seen as he darts by on velvet wing to vanish 

 in the shadows. 



A sudden commotion among the leaves; sharp, shriU 

 cries of bird agony speedily silenced, apprise us that a 

 tragedy has been enacted. It is safe to assume that owls 

 ■were present; but as they never will tell, we shall be none 

 the wiser. 



The hours pass! Woodfolk rest! All save little Phoebe, 

 as Lowell so beautifully tells us: 



Ere pales in Heaven the morning star 



A bird, the loveliest of its kind. 

 Hears dawn's faint footfall from afar. 

 While all its mates are dumb and blind. 



It is a wee sad colored thing. 



As shy and secret as a maid 

 That ere in choir the robins sing 



Pipes its own name, like one afraid. 



It seems pain prompted to repeat 



The story of some ancient ill, 

 But Phcebe! Phoebe! sadly sweet 



Is all it says, and then is still. 



* * * * 



The plaint of the little voice is unspeakably sad as it 



floats upon the night, owing to the falling inflection with 

 which it ceases. The emphasis is given in the first 

 syllable Pha'-bc\ a cry of entreaty, it seems to say '■'won t 

 you answer?" 



The cool light of morning is awakening the eastern 

 skies! Among the heralds of the dawn the robin takes 

 "the right of line." His is generally the first voice to 

 sound the call. While shadows still linger in the wood- 

 land we wait impatiently his cheery shout. "Half-past 3 

 o'clock! There it is! Get up! get up! You are late ! you 

 are late!" he calls, and the cry is repeated by scores of his 

 kind. Now the ear catches the flutes of thrush and cat- 

 bird, their sympathetic voices mingle with the fortissimo 

 of the robins, and lend a sweetness to the echoes. 



A swamp robin (T. mustelinus) sings just under my 

 window, his liquid tones fall like gi-ace notes among the 

 bird voices that fill the dawn with melody. 



While the twilight lasts these songs continue. As 

 morning hurries to the sunlit day the jarring cries of 

 English sparrows make discord, and harmony is gone. 

 "Early to bed and early to rise," etc., is good doctrine, no 

 doubt, and as far as retiring is concerned this ubiquitous 

 nuisance lives up to it, but thank fortune, he rises late, 

 and we are therefore spared the infliction of his irritating 

 presence dxiring one enjoyable half-hour. Gradually 

 the songsters cease, and shortly the feathered orchestra 

 is at breakfast. 



The birds with few exceptions are faithful sun worship- 

 pers. Full of music though they be at all times, their 

 very souls seem inspired at the rising and setting of the 

 sun. 



Another day is begun! "Fall in! fall in!" ring the 

 bugles of orioles in the treetops, where they flash their 

 golden wings in the sunlight. "Fall in! fall in!" Alas! 

 that I have to obey the command, but there is no use in 

 repining, so away to the daily grind. 



WlLMOT TOWNSEND. 



Bay KiDGE, N. Y. 



AN EXPLORATION. 



There is a chain of nine -or, as some say, fourteen— 

 connecting lakes, not too diflicult to be reached from our 

 camp. Eight of these I knew from having visited them. 

 There are trout in all but one of them, but mostly those 

 great gray nmnaycush, which I do not care for. They 

 are good to eat, especially when fresh from the water, 

 but taking them is no sport for me. I would rather like 

 to pull out a 2i)-pounder, as was done through the ice last 

 winter, but where fontinalis are plenty I will not troll 

 for nmnaycush. 



But there was one lake of the chain that we did not 

 know about. Lumbermen's tales reported that there 

 were splendid trout there. It was at the head of the 

 chain, and there is where I look for the best fish, but to 

 get to it involved several portages, and moreover I did not 

 know exactly where it was. I had only been there once, 

 in winter, and then Damase took me across country, over 

 roads where canoes don't go easily in summer. After- 

 ward I had tried three times to find it, but failed in all. 

 Twice my guides were no good and the other time the 

 muscles of my athletic but youthful companions gave 

 out under labors too heavy for their years. 



But now we seemed to be well equipped. Accident 

 had favored us. First, we had Nazaire, and Nazaire can 

 find any lake in existence. Besides him we had three 

 passable boatmen and two canoes, and we were only three 

 passengers. There was the Professor, he who makes 

 straight for Lac Clair every time that bis teaching duties 

 let up a bit. And with him this time came another Pro- 

 fessor, who had never thrown a fly or seen one thrown in 

 his life. We christened him "Fontinalis" before we were 

 done with him, so great did his enthusiasm grow. So we 

 determined to find this unknown lake or perish in the 

 attempt. 



We were oif at 6 A. M. A twenty minutes paddle 

 across Lac Clair, half an hour to get canoes and baggage 

 down the clift' 300ft. into Lac Long, forty minutes to re- 

 pair damages and get suitably packed for portaging and 

 then we were fairly under way. 



It was an hour to Lac Goujon and another forty minutes 

 were used up in getting up its inlet and over the dam into 

 Lac Marie. It was another twenty minutes paddle across 

 and we came to another inlet, more portaging and more 

 canoeing into Lac Rat Musque (Muskrat Lake). This is 

 a curious place, the water being nowhere more than about 

 a couple of feet deef* and having a narrow channel, a 

 dozen feet wide or so, with a very moderate current and 

 all the rest of the lake, perhaps a couple of hundred acres 

 all covered with the rushes called prelles by the Canadians, 

 but I do not know their English name. I have seen this 

 lake later in the summer when these rushes were dotted 

 as full as they could be with white water lilies, a plant 

 which is rare in these parts. They reminded me of stars 

 in a winter's sky. I bad not then seen them anywhere 

 here except in these connecting waters, but have since 

 found them once elsewhere. My men had never before 

 noticed them. 



Over another short portage and a dam we reached Lac 

 Travers and after that some more of the same took us into 

 Lac Aux Pins, where we took dinner, for somehow we 

 had used up a good deal of time. Next was quite a port- 

 age, where the baggage was carried, but the canoes were 

 handed up the stream d la cordelle. It was rather a nasty 

 stream to get canoes up, but being light they suffered no 

 great damage. So over another dam we got into Lac a 

 Daniiase and across that we came to a little rapid with a 

 beaver dam at the top of it, the whole not making more 

 than 10 or 12yd8., but giving us all the trouble of unload- 

 ing and loadmg the canoes. The next lake ought to have 

 another name but it is still called Lac a Damase. 



We left the outlet of the Lac des Isles on our right and 

 continued through a very pretty bit of water to where we 

 found the outlet of the lake we were after. 



There were remains of an old lumber road which half 

 an hour's work made into a rough but practicable port- 

 age, and at length we reached Lake Pas de Nom, or the 

 lake without a name. A canoe was carried over first, 

 and while the men went back for the baggage Nazaire 

 and I explored for a good camping ground, which it took 

 us a full hour to find, for the shore was mainly composed 

 of holes and boulders, which I do not like to sleep in or 

 on. Moreover, the narrow part of the lake toward the 

 outlet was so full of fallen timber that we had to get 

 over as best we could, disembarking three or four times 

 in a few hundred yards. 



By the time we had found a camping place the baggage 

 was over to the edge of the lake. The Professors and I 

 smoked our pipes till it was brought up, and then the 

 men all set to work making a bark camp. My Professor 

 and I took the canoe and pushed off. Had we come up 

 there for nothing after all? 



I began casting. 



Once — Nothing. 



Twice— Nothing. 



Three times — Nothing, but I thought I heard a little 

 splash somewhere. 



Four times — Another splash and a strike. In due time 

 a trout was in the boat, and then a shout went up such as 

 Lac Pas de Nom never echoed before. We had no scales, 

 but I knew he would weigh well over a pound. I held 

 him up in sight of Nazaire, who immediately added an- 

 other section to the camp he was building, for he knew 

 then that this was not at all likely to be my last visit 

 there. The Professor and I kept on till we had seven 

 fish, enough for a taste all round, and we were decidedly 

 hungry. So we went back to camp and ate them. 



After supper, although it was rather late, we went out 

 again but got very little. My Professor took one. The 

 other Professor smashed his tip over another and lost 

 him. 



We went to bed, Nazaire and I agreeing that at 3:30 

 A. M. we would be out again. At that time I was up. 

 Nazaire heard me preparing mv morning cup of coffee 

 and got up too, but the good ofd fellow looked as if he 

 would prefer another hour's sleep to anything else and I 

 sent him back to bed. But by this time my Professor was 

 up and we two went out but had not much luck. The 

 other Poofessor said he wouldn't fish any more, thinking 

 his lack of skill was responsible for his lack of fish, his 

 broken rod and his tangled lines, but after breakfast 

 we made him go and he took the largest fish of the 

 cruise. 



We could not spare much more time, and as the weather 

 looked threatening and the main object of our excursion 

 had been accomplished, we turned homeward. 



On the way up there had been some singing of canoe- 

 ing songs, but on the way down there was a constant 

 succession of them. They were sung in the regular 

 voyageur manner and some of them lasted a good while. 

 Sometimes a voice on one boat would sing one line, which 

 would be repeated in chorus from the other, then another 

 line sung and likewise repeated, and then both air and 

 chorus would be taken by both boats together. This 

 made the dozen or fifteen verses, of which many of these 

 songs consist, carry us over a good deal of ground. It 

 was very interesting and pleasant, for although I had 

 heard most of the songs sung around camp-fires, in lum- 

 ber camps and elsewhere, I do not think I ever heard 

 them where they were so com])letely in accord with all 

 the circumstances and surroundings. 



The other men teased and bulldozed poor Nazaire until 

 he had to contribute his share to the general entertain- 

 ment. 



Now, I had never heard Nazaire sing anything except 

 "L'Alouette," in which noise and vigor are of more im- 

 portance than music, and I would for my part have very 

 willingly excused him. But he commenced, and he con- 

 tinued. When he had sung about fifteen or twenty 

 verses I was strongly tempted to cry out, "Haul le slack," 

 but the song was so evidently a reminiscence of the days 

 of his youth that I could not find it in my heart to stop 

 the dear old fellow, who kept on to the end and was re- 

 warded with general applause. 



The two Professors also tried to sing, and although 

 both of them had excellent voices and could sing in vari- 

 ous languages, unfortunately they couldn't remember 

 more than two consecutive verses of any one song. So 

 they failed utterly. 



We paddled softly and gently all the way down Ivac 

 Long and finally reached our home camp just as the buu 

 was going down. 



That was the evening when no lamps were lighted and 

 every man of us was in bed by 8 o'clock. 



But we were immensely pleased with our excursion, 

 having satisfied ourselves that there are fine trout in 

 Lac Pas de Nom, and that they wiU take the fly. 



Aside from the principal object of our expedition was 

 another that I have not mentioned. I wanted to see if 

 there were any good places that I didn't already know 

 about in which to place the fry of the ouananiche. I 

 had already placed a good lot in waters more or less re- 

 motely connected with these lakes. They had done well 

 in some places, when last seen, but in one spot some 

 were found dead when grown to be about 6 or 7in. long. 

 I found that lake to be very shallow, and am satisfied 

 that the water got too warm in summer, and was not 

 pure enough for them. 



Last week we saw some that were turned out about the 

 first of June of this year. They had already grown to 

 about oin. long and were lively as crickets. 



Of those previously turned out in other places than the 

 one just mentioned I do not expect to see anything for a 

 year or two at any rate, and perhaps longer. Ten thou- 

 sand fish would not malie a great showing in 20 square 

 miles of water, if they should ever do so well. They 

 have a gocd chance and I have no doubt wjII thrive. 



We did not find any good place not known before, but 

 I had excellent success in hatching the eggs, and see no 

 reason why with time and patience any suitable waters 

 may not be stocked with this splendid fish. 



G. De Mojstauban. 



AoorrsT, 1893. 



"Useful Information." 



Perth Amboy, N. J. — From a "Manual of Useful In- 

 formation" widely distributed in the interest of Dr. So- 

 and-so's wonderful liver pills, I cull the following aston- 

 ishing statement under the heading of "Notes of Inter- 

 est:" "The Condor of Peru has a spread of wings 40ft., 

 feathers 20ft., quills Sin. round." Whew! And here is 

 another : 



"The flight of the swift is estimatfd at 200 miles an 

 hour, the swallow 60 miles, and carrier pigeons 38 

 miles." 



While on natural history, it may not be out of the 

 way to give one more "Interesting Fact," from the same 

 high authority: 



"A Ball is one who operates to depress the value of 

 stocks that he may buy for a rise. A Bear is one who 

 sells stocks for future delivery, which he does not own at 

 the time of sale." K. 



