4i2 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Nov. 11, 1893, 



wait. The be-fezzed heathen who takes your ten cents 

 puts a spoonful of finely powdered coffee (brand unknown) 

 in the bottom of a big copper cup, and on this pours boil- 

 ing water. You can add sugar and you can have milk if 

 you like. You would better take milk, because this is 

 much like plain American restaurant coffee, and is 

 dangerous if not mitigated. No one should use milk with 

 the Brazil or Guatemala coffee, or any pure drip coffee. 

 The Algerian coffee looks foreign owing to the copper 

 utensils and the red fez which you see with it, but it 

 tastes mild and domestic. Too much of it would make 

 you hate mankind. 



Turkish Coffee. 



Observation led the Chief and me to think the Turks the 

 most Ul-mannered and utterly abominable people on earth, 

 or at least on the Midway. They are insolent, impolite, 

 indeed "unspeakable." Accordingly, when we inquired 

 at the Turkish bazaar how the Turkish coffee was made, 

 we might have expected the unsatisfactory answers we 

 got. Served in very small cups, the Turkish coffee was 

 black, muddy, strong, but rude rather than suave in 

 its strength. A cup of Turkish coffee has the sound of 

 brass and cymbals in it, but not the melody of soft airs or 

 babbling waters, and not the inspiration of the lofty song 

 of birds. When one finishes his cup he finds a spoonful of 

 fine, pasty sediment at the bottom of it. This was what 

 made us wonder how the coffee was made. One evening 

 we were sitting out in the open part of one of these ba- 

 zaars, drinking coffee, when we noticed that famous Ori- 

 ental, Far Away Moses, talking with an American gentle- 

 man. The latter I approached, after the fashion of the 

 Midway, and asked him if he knew how the Turkish coffee 

 was made. He told me that he did not, but added, "Far 

 Away Moses has told me that he will show me, and when 

 he does, I will write you and tell you what X learn." I 

 gave the gentleman my card, explaining that the request 

 was in the interest of science, and that was the last we 

 heard of Turkish coffee for two or three weeks. Then I 

 got a letter from 17 Temple place, Boston, Mass., dated 

 Aug. 21, which read as follows: 



"I promised one night to let you know how the Turkish 

 coffee was made. I did not find out until the day before 

 I left Chicago, and this is the first moment I have had to 

 write you. 



"The coffee is first ground very fine in a hand mill. 

 Then a small teaspoonf ul of coffee is put into a cup and a 

 teaspoonful of sugar is put in with it, and they are thor- 

 oughly stirred. Then boiling water is poured upon this. 

 It is made very simply. W, L. Ceosby." 



I did not even know Mr. Crosby's name until I received 

 this letter, and I wish to thank him not only for the 

 recipe for Turkish coffee, but also for his faithfulness in 

 the small promise he made another stranger, I should be 

 inclined to trust him in larger matters. 



The Turkish coffee is Mocha, of course. It impressed 

 us as being a harsher berry than any of those mentioned 

 above. The amount is very small, but even one cup is 

 exhilarating. The method of making it leaves it muddy, 

 and not so pleasant as the clear drip coffees we bad so 

 much fancied earlier. 



Java Coffee. 



Lastly, we tried, and tried often, the heavenly fluid, 

 soft, charming, enthralling, served by those delightfully 

 polite and agreeable little villagers, the Javanese, in their 

 clean and quiet little town upon the Midway. Here you 

 have the hand of iron in the glove of velvet, a coffee 

 powerful but seductive, dreamy but compelling, languor- 

 ous but inspiring. To sit on the gallery of the big bungalow, 

 and sip a cup of this divine essence of happy dreams, and 

 to hsten meanwhile to the slow, erratic, irregular clack! 

 clack! clack-a, clack-clack! of the laziest little bamboo 

 water mill on earth — I know of no situation on this earth 

 more infinitely or innocently blessed. There is no vicious- 

 ness in the Javanese coffee, not a bad thought in a barrel- 

 ful of it, and the brimming measure served you by the 

 grave but pleasant little brown man is naught but an 

 amber draught of pure content. It bids you on not to 

 wild deeds of visionary sort, but teaches you the beauty 

 of a serene and tranquil hope which makes life seem 

 another thing. If you drink one cup of coffee in the 

 Javanese village, you thinK you are going to have your 

 salary raised. If you drink two, you are certain of it. 

 If you drink three, you don't care whether it is or not. 

 [The Chief and I drank three.] 



Java coffee is drip coffee. The cup is large and you 

 can use milk if you like, though it spoils any good coffee. 

 To suit the average popular taste, the coffee is weakened 

 a shade after its first strength is developed. The berries 

 are ground very fine, after careful roasting to a dark 



brown color. 



A Glorious Dream. 



Oct. 29. — To-morrow the White City dies. Its brief but 

 glorious life has run its term, and, "like the baseless 

 fabric of a vision," it must fade at the stern light of a 

 harder day. It was a glorious dream, and that it must 

 die is pitiful. Against uplifted hands so white and so 

 pathetic, what can even ObHvion, the all-devouring, do? 

 Even Oblivion, which has swallowed cities, races and 

 centuries, says, "I will wait for a little time. This 

 dream, so white, so pure, so good, shall not die by the 

 stroke of measured time. It was too glorious a dream." 



If it be a pleasure to look upon the dismantling of the 

 great city, that pleasure may be indulged, for though the 

 Exposition closes formally to-morrow, the gates will be 

 held open for some time yet, and those who wish to see 

 the remnants of the Fair may have that privilege. 



The Spirit of the Dream. 



But Oblivion relents for a time, and the spirit of this 

 vision will remain, at least a suggestion of the perished 

 thought. The great Art Building, the most beautiful of 

 all the beautiful structures of the Fair, is to be retauied, 

 and it will be the home of many of the choicest treasures of 

 the Fair. The Columbian Museum wiU take the place of 

 the Columbian Exposition, and for years yet to come the 

 great statue of Winged Victory will dominate over the 

 defeat to . which Oblivion consents. The spirit of the 

 dream, holding still much of beauty, much of thought, 

 much of high import, will five on, and will continue to do 

 ' good to tired and grimed humanity, in manner alike, 

 though in less measure than the majestic spectacle whose 

 allotted hour has now arrived. Let us love the daughter 

 for the mother's sake. For the latter, for tliis White City, 

 for this inspired creation which was more than the work 

 of man, for this lesson which came because in this time 



it was needed . by humanity, and needed at this place 

 and hour, what shall we say, except this? It was not re- 

 spect, nor awe, nor wonder, nor humility, nor curiosity, 

 nor even pride which the people felt for it. It was love. 

 Therefore we can not bury it as we would a man, with 

 slow music to the grave, a salute as the ccfiin drops, and 

 a gay and lilting march as we return to await the calls 

 for the rest of us. We can not do that. Oblivion does 

 not ask it. So we will love the daughter for the mother's 

 sake. 



Chicago. 



Chicago did it. Chicago made possible the Fair, and 

 now makes possible the perpetuation of the Fair's memory. 

 Yesterday one Chicago man gave $1,000, OUO for this so- 

 called museum. Another gave $100,000. This ragged 

 Monte Christo of a town has a heart and a soul. If you 

 come to figure on progress and accomplishment, do not 

 leave out of the calculation the "omnivorous West," nor 

 that city which is the heart and center of the West. 



Mr. W. Gr. Davies, of Whittle's Depot, Pennsylvania 

 county, Va. , stopped for a good long talk. Mr. Davies 

 bittei'ly deplores the negro with the gun, who has killed 

 off about all the small game in his section except on land 

 closely protected. He says there are more deer not far 

 from his part of Virginia than for a long time. South of 

 him, in the Carolinas, he says one can have the finest 

 sort of woodcock shooting; the Congaree River being 

 especially good. A few turkeys are stiU left in Pennsyl- 

 vania county, Mr. Davies says. What is left still, how- 

 ever, and what will always be left, though Mr. Davies 

 doesn't mention it, is the imfailing hospitality of Ole 

 Virginily, which ought to make a cold-blooded Northern 

 man ashamed of himself. "Come down and see me," 

 said Mr. Davies, "and stop a while. I'll put you behind 

 an old-fashioned big pointer, and give you some bird 

 shooting and may be a shot at a turkey. All I ask of you 

 is to write up the little-minded men of our neighborhood, 

 who don't believe in protecting and keeping the game as 

 a few of us do." Mr. Davies wanted to have some duck 

 shooting while in the North, and I was sorry I could not 

 go out with him. 



Mr. H. J. Welch, inventor and patentee of the Welch 

 & Graves glass trolling bait ("one minnow a day"), and 

 also of the changeable-center inanimate bait, which latter 

 device is less known than the former, tarried awhile on 

 his way from Mr. Graves's one-minnow-a-day booth in 

 the Angling Pavilion and we discoursed pleasantly for a 

 while. 



Mr. C. A. Damon, of the Burgess Gun Company, now 

 in charge of the gun exhibit of that firm, as I understand 

 it, left his card and made a pleasant call while the writer 

 was absent. 



Mr. F. L. Glezen, of Providence, R. I., called several 

 times during his stay here. Mr. Glezen was disappointed 

 about his big-game hunt in British Columbia this fall, a 

 trip on which he had counted much, but will try to con- 

 sole himself with a duck hunt out in Minnesota, Avhither 

 he starts this week. Mr. Glezen has killed moose and 

 caribou in Nova Scotia, but this year his old hunting 

 grounds were burned over and he attempted to carry out 

 his long-cherished idea of a trip to the Rockies, only to 

 find, late in the season, that his hunting partner would 

 be unable to go, and that so the trip was off. Sympathy 

 for Mr. Glezen will be ready from those who know how 

 that is themselves. 



Rev. J. H. LaRoche, author of the little poem "O, Fair 

 White City," lately published in Forest and Stream and 

 a very pleasant gentleman, called several times at the 

 cosiest spot in the Fair, but unfortunately the writer 

 missed him every time, more's the pity for the writer. 



Mr. Wm. N. Bycrs, of Denver, Colo. , stopped for a little 

 while, and asked us all to come and see him if we were in 

 Denver. "We have still some game and some fish in 

 Colorado," said Mr. Byers, "in spite of aU the efforts of 

 man to the contrary." 



Mr. F. C. Donald, of Chicago, and his 24-karat smile, 

 dawned on the Forest and Stream space the other day. 

 Mr. Donald's smUe is surpassed by none and equalled only 

 by that of Col. R. S. Cox, of the firm of Haller & Cox, 

 Seattle, Wash. It is a tie between them. "I have been 

 trying all summer to find one of you Forest and Stream 

 men,"saidMr. Donald, "but they are all always been some- 

 where else, I don't believe any of you have been in 

 town all summer." Mr. Donald is wrong. We have been 

 right in the heart of the city. 



Mr. Geo. L. Wilkinson, of Beloit, Wis., and an admirer 

 of the g. p. o. e., paused and parleyed, and told us to 

 come and see him, I wish I could accept all the invita- 

 tions of this sort I have had this summer. It would be 

 hard on national affairs, but I wouldn't have to work for 

 ten years, 



Mr, Gardiner M. Skinner, of Clayton, N. Y,, the Skinner 

 spoon man, and the author of the 421b8. mascaUonge lately 

 mentioned, stepped in for a time and we had a pleasant 

 talk. "I sent a copy of our local paper," said Mr. Skinner, 

 "to the editor of Forest and Stream, showing the account 

 of my big lunge, and it happened that in the same column 

 there was the account of the wedding of my daughter, 

 who was married that same week. The editor man wrote 

 back, 'Weight of mascaUonge noted. Weight of son-in- 

 law not stated. Congratulate you, anyhow.' I thought 

 that wasn't bad." 



Mr. A. R, Bechaud, of Jefferson, Wis,, tarried and 

 made converse at the white birch sign. 



Mr. L. K. Liggett, of the Detroit Tigers Canoe Club, 

 stopped for a few moments. He reports everything dull 

 at Detroit. "Chicago is taking |100_,000 a week out of 

 Detroit," said he, "and the Fair is killing everything else." 

 Mr. Liggett thought the W. C. A. meet next summer 

 would go to Mullet Lake, Mich. 



Mr. A. Ames Hewlett (the "Onondago" of Forest and 

 Stream), and vice-president of the Lefever Arms Co., 

 Syracuse, N, Y. , came into the Forest and Stream corner 

 accompanied by his son, a bright little fellow, who seemed 

 to take a keen and intelligent interest in all things sports- 

 manlike, as shown in that precinct. Mr, Hewlett p^re 

 and Mr. Hewlett jils both lean much to amateur pho- 

 tography, and the youngster is the hero of the picture 

 "On the Watch," shown in ^he Game Laws in Brief . I 

 can't imagine any pleasure greater than that of having a 

 bright boy to bring up and educate in manly ways, and I 

 don't know of a better way to do this last than that 

 chosen by Mr. Hewlett, who is putting the boy through a 

 course of Forest and Stream and the thintis fhprt^unto 

 pertaining, E, Houuh. 



Echoes from the "Forest and Stream" Corner. 1 



Forest and Stream Exhibit, Last Days of the Fair, ' 

 1893,— Ml-. B. F, West, of Wichita, Kan,, a State whose « 

 citizens are justly famous for their broad views— particu- 

 larly those who reside on the prau'ies — dropped into For- 

 est AND Stream's corner with Mr, Comstock, of Protean 

 tent fame, Mr, J. E, Wings, of Riclimond, Va,, was ' 

 already studying the pleasing effects of big-game heads, 

 fish, feather and pictxires hanging on the wall together. 

 Mr, Essig, who is on the staff of Messrs, A. G. Spalding & : 

 Co., sauntered in after a while and joined the group. 

 The conversation ran mostly on fish and fishing, with de- , 

 scriptions of the killing of mou7itain lions, Indians and 

 bears sandwiched in betimes in the narratives just to give 

 a quiet bit of color to the fish stories. I remember that 

 Mr. Essig calmly described how, once on a time when 

 trout fishing, he held the leader motionless about three 

 feet clear of the surface of the water and the trout would 

 spring up and promptly take each one of the three flies. 

 That was rising to the fly and the occasion. Mr. West 

 then gravely explained that there were times when the 

 trout, when not moulting, would bite eagerly at anything. 

 He himself had taken a spear of timothy grass, reached 

 out and placed it on the surface of the water, where it 

 was instantly accepted by a trout. The trout were landed 

 just as fast as the timothy grass could be whipped back 

 and forth from land to water, the fisherman resting on a 

 point of vantage on the bank of the stream during the 

 thrilling ordeal. 



A foreign gentleman and his wife stepped into Forest 

 AND Stream corner and mentioned that both he and his 

 wife were both constant readers and admirers of the best 

 sportsmen's paper, then he inserted on the register, "John 

 Soderburg and wife, Stockholm, Sweden." 



Mr. H. L. Leonard, of Central A^alley, N. Y., a name of 

 mighty portent when stamped on a split bamboo, twice 

 visited Forest and Stream, at the Fair. Inclusive in liis 

 purpose was a desire to see Mr. Hough, whose writings he 

 admires. Mr. Leonard was not in the best of health and 

 remained but a short time. 



Mr. Eddie Bingham, of Montgomery Ward & Co.'s 

 mammoth house, walked in one day with his brother and 

 brother-in-law, Mr. Ira Bingham and Mr. E. L. TuU, the 

 latter from Boston, Mass. Whether the duck flight was 

 or was not in session was duly considered. Mr. Bingham, 

 besides breaking clay pigeons with the same ease, cer- 

 tainty and quickness with which a hen picks up corn, can 

 make an epidemic among birds with his shotgun, be the 

 birds of the water or air. 



Mr. Alex. McDonald, of St, Johns, P. Q., Canada, was 

 accompanied by Mr, Skinner of spoon hook fame, on a 

 brief visit to Forest and Stream's exhibit. 



Mr. J. V. Kridt, Washington, D. C, told of tarpon being 

 caught near Cumberland Island, near the Georgia coast, by- 

 one Captain Butts. He said that, so far as he knew, it 

 was generally supposed the tarpon never wended his 

 flight so far nor'ard. 



Mr. E. Percy Maynard, of Chicago, placed his name on i 

 the register after a most pleasant conversation on dog 

 and gun, pistol, rifle and boating, in tlie use of all of 

 which he is interested and proficient. 



Mr. Frank F. Frisbie ("F. F. F," and "Prairie Dog") 

 honored the corner with a brief call. 



Well known to the dog fancier is Mr, Chas. K, Farmer, : 

 of Indianapolis, Ind, who tarried but a few moments, 

 since he had much to see in the short time allotted to the J 

 Fair. He contemplated returning to Michigan to reside ' 

 again, 



DanviUe, Ky,, is the home of many ardent sportsmen, i 

 said Mr, Thomas P. Flai^, of that city, Bass fishing and 

 Kentucky reels— Mr. Flaig is an expert reel maker him-i 

 self^ — afforded an interesting theme of conversation. His 

 father has files of Forest and Stream from the first 

 number. 



Of "Nesmuk" columns of reminiscences could be vmt- 

 ten from no other data than that furnished by the many peo- 

 ple who knew him, and who visited Forest and Stream's' 

 corner. The dead woodsman must have had a strong in- 

 dividuality and an endearing character, for all speak of 

 him in terms of praise and affection. A quiet gentleman : 

 and his wife walked into the exhibit one day and wrote; 

 on the register, ' 'Buck" Delano, Chicago. He then opened: 

 a volume of "Woodcraft," and pointed out where he fig- 

 ured in it as one of the characters of the book. "I was. 

 his companion in his outings for twelve years," said IVIr. 

 Delano, "and a better companion or woodsman never, 

 lived than he. 'Nessmuk' could get up a meal out of 

 anything. No matter how poor the prospect for a meal, 

 with 'Nessmuk' in camp there was a certainty of some-i 

 thing to eat. An old shoe or bark would serve if there: 

 was nothing better." 



Mr. Tim Donoghue, of La Salle, 111,, dropped me a liae 

 in his cheery way and informed me that he would be in 

 town before the Fair closed. I had about given him up, 

 when on a cold, dreary day, the last Saturday of the 

 Fair, he dawned on the cosy corner with the whole board 

 of aldermen of LaSalle, or rather, as he himself is a mem- 

 ber, the whole board visited FOREST AND Stream at the 

 World's Fair. Neither the cold nor fatigue had lessened 

 his natural affability or warm-hearted vivacity. If Tim'e 

 friends were all in one line no day would be long enough 

 for him to run down the line and shake hands as he ran. 

 finishing it all on the same day. 



Mr. J. M. Freeman, of Bicknell, Ind., chatted over field 

 trial matters, while Mrs. Freeman viewed the fish. He 

 said that the field trials to be held at Bicknell would prob- 

 aoly be the best held there in many years. B, Waters. 



"Sairy Gamp." 



Westboro, Wis., Oct. 33. — I have read what Mi- 

 Waters, World's Fair correspondent of Forest ane 

 Stream, says in regard to the famous 10-pound canoe in 

 which "Nessmuk" made a torn- of the lakes and streams 

 of the Adirondack region about ten years since. If 1 

 remember rightly it was not from mere sentiment thai 

 this name was given, but because Sairy Gamp "neve;' 

 took water." I think a reference to "Nessmuk'a" account 

 of the trip referred to in the files of the Forest am 

 Stream will bear me out in this. J. W. G, 



There has never been any book published on big gam< 

 hunting which contained among its illustrations po large, i 

 proportion of photographs of live wild game as the Book Oi 

 the Boone and Crockett Club. The volume is a marvel q 

 typographical beauty, 



