3X2 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Oct. 13, 1894. 
the parties to whom the reference was made, I held my 
tongue, and inwardly resolved to try and make an effort to 
effect the sale of a number of "chips," which had been 
eyesores to me for some time. 
That afternoon, on my way from my claim to my tent, 
I purposely went out of my way, in order to pass the tent 
of the Frenchmen. Just as I got opposite the door, I was 
seized and drawn in behind a canvas screen which divided 
the sleeping apartment from, the front or office portion, 
where both partners drew from their pockets several 
small canvas bags, from which they poured on the table a 
heap of large diamond "chips," which they assured me 
would weigh over ,81bs. avoirdupois, and had been pur- 
chased at merely nominal figures. The ex-foreman took 
up one of the largest pieces, and examining it closely for 
a few seconds, laid it on the table, just in front of him, 
opened his pocket knife, held the blade at slight angle to 
one«f the sides of the "chip," said "Look," and with a 
slight blow of a small hammer split off a portion of the 
stone. This was my first insight into the cleavage of a 
diamond, and to explain the reason of his action he told 
me that he would reduce the entire lot in size, in order to 
save postage, only exercising due care to split off such 
extra, portions of the "chip," as would be necessary to 
reduce it to the form of a brilliant. All diamonds were 
sent in parcels by mail, which was transported overland 
some 500 miles to Cape Town, in small two-horse carts, 
driven by half-bred "Totties." It was a fortunate thing 
for the digging and buying fraternities that none of the 
"stand and deliver" brotherhood had reached that portion 
of the world. Of course all the small pieces were carefully 
preserved until some opportunity offered to send them 
personally down to the Oape, whence they were taken by 
steamers to Europe. After taking my first lesson in pre- 
paratory diamond cutting, I sold my lot of "chips" at 
prices which would have appalled some of the sharp ones, 
who had imagined they were doing "a big thing" in let- 
ting the Frenchman name the prices . and take their 
"splints." Frank J. Thompson. 
"That reminds me." 
MY CHANCE ACQUAINTANCE.-VIII. 
A few resorters had gathered in my venerable friend's 
workshop, which was a combination curiosity, workshop, 
lounging and storehouse. It had rained. It did rain. 
The prospect was good for considerable more rain. It was 
not one of those hasty "get up and get" showers, but a 
steady, constant, consistent, continual patter-patter. 
Everything exposed was wet, sodden, soggy, soaked 
through and through. The few fish we had caught in 
the morning had every appearance of having been thor- 
oughly soaked; their eyes were dull and milky; and when 
the fish were hooked they came in more like sticks than 
respectable bass, as though every particle of fight had 
been soaked out of them. 
There were puddles in the highway, pools in the yard, 
and duck ponds to the right and to the left scattered all 
over the fields. The eave troughs and conductors were as 
full as a successful candidate for alderman on election 
night. The fowls had gathered under a small "lean-to," 
heads down and tails, the reverse of their natural and 
proper position; and as the poor bedraggled chicks shifted 
their weight from one foot to the other they looked the 
perfect picture of loneliness and disgust. No, there was 
no music in the patter of the rain on the roof, for the 
shingles were soaked as soft as mush. "We were a dull, 
dismal, gloomy set, our smoke was out, small talk ex- 
hausted, cards were in the boat, reduced to pulp, stories 
had been swapped and elaborated threadbare, divested of 
every particle of interest. The clouds were heavy, sullen 
and black as charcoal. There was not life enough in the 
company even to pull straws, pitch coppers or tie puzzle 
knots, while the stillness was as thick, dull and solemn as 
a magazine war article or one of their essays on the effects 
of the moon's rays on cellar drains. 
Suddenly the old man opened the door, when presto! 
change! It was equal to the turning on of a double bar- 
rel search light or the firing of a spouting oil well. The 
halo penetrated every nook and corner of the building. 
The horses whinnied in the adjacent stable, the old 
rooster shook himself, braced up and moved with an early 
morning vigor, while there came from the company a 
violent fusilade of "Hello, old man," "Come in out of the 
wet," "Howdy do?" "Where you been?" "What you 
been doing?" "Come into the ark," etc., etc. 
The old gentleman shook the water from his palm leaf, 
hung up his rubber coat, rapped smartly his briarwood 
pipe on the work bench, pushed a straw through the 
stem, filled the bowl, started a smudge equal to a coal 
pit, turned a pail bottom-side up, placed a couple of meal 
bags thereon, and as he sat down, gravely remarked, "It's 
a wet rain." 
This sage remark having been adopted without a dis- 
senting voice, the old man continued, "I've got a sliver 
in one of my hands and I want one of .you fellers to get 
it out," at the same time producing an implement which 
appeared to have been a cross between a marlin spike 
and a cheese knife. The "sliver" having been removed 
and thrown out on the wood pile for future use, the old 
gent carefully wiped the blade of his tool, bestowing on it 
an affectionate glance or two then and proceeded. 
"Ain't it funny how some things '11 stick to ye wus'n 
the itch or a bad dollar? Now I've had that are knife 
nigh on to forty year. The blade was made for me by a 
tramp blacksmith, and there never were a better piece of 
stuff put into a blade. The handle I made myself from 
the horn of a deer I shot out in the swamp yonder. I've 
lost it several times, but it has turned up again as often. 
"Drapped it into the lake onc't through a hole in a raft 
of logs, but I cut it out of a big pickerel I caught through 
the ice the next winter. Another time I came across an 
old bear with a cub. I shot the old one and tried to save 
the young one alive, but the little cuss clawed and 
scratched me so I got mad and stuck the knife into him 
'fore I thought. It must have hurt him bad, for he gave 
a powerful wrench, got away from me and run into the 
brush with the knife a-stickih' in him. I put a ball into 
him, though, the next spring, and he wasn't very fat, but 
the knife was there just where I'd left it. 
"The next time I lost it I'd been about three mile up the 
river looking for a likely rollway. I tied my boat up to 
an old windfall while I ate my lunch. Used my knife to 
cut some meat. Stuck it into an old log. Forgot it and 
started for home. When I were about half way down I 
wanted the knife to cut some baccy with. It was gone. 
Well, as I knowed jist where I'd left it, and as the water 
was smooth, I thought I'd go back and get it. Now, I 
hadn't gone more'n half a mile, when I'll be blamed if I 
didn't see that ar knife stuck straight up in a piece of 
bark sailing along as grand as could be and a-coming 
down the river to meet me. 
"Yes, I do set a great store by that knife, but it's cow 
time, boys, and I must be a-going." 
The old fellow trudged off after his cows, but he left 
behind a broad, deep halo of cheerfulness, which the dis- 
mal weather could not deaden; the torrents of rain might 
dampen but could not subdue it. One of the party exe- 
cuted a war dance in the original language, then sang 
"Johnny Get Your Gun" in three foreign ones. A.W. 
DUCK* HAWKS ON THE PALISADES. 
An interesting discovery was made by some egg collec- 
tors of the suburban village of Englewood, N. J., a short 
time ago. They found a pair of duck hawks nesting on 
the Palisades and secured the eggs. 
A few years ago no breeding places of the duck hawk were 
known in the Eastern States except on Mt. Tom and Mt. 
Holyoke, in Massachusetts; but this discovery proves that 
we have them right here on the North River, within two 
or three miles of New York city. The duck hawk, besides 
being a rare bird hereabouts, is one of the most interest- 
ing members of the hawk family. It is one of the true 
falcons, and under the name peregrine falcon was much 
used in the hawking of the Middle Ages. It is a very 
active bird and always on the go — a true hunter. 
We boys who were interested in birds and their habits 
had always known that there were hawks on the Pali- 
sades, but had supposed them to be fish hawks. How- 
ever, a fish hawk's egg is a good etrg, and one morning in 
March ten of us started for the Palisades on an egg-seeking 
expedition. It was a glorious day. The sun shone out 
strong, the air was clear and cool, and our walk through 
the woods was a pleasant one. We soon reached the 
cliffs and looked out upon the grand view to be had from 
any part of the Palisades, but more especially from Clin- 
ton Point, Involuntarily we first look downward. Far, 
far below is the great river, flowing silently and ever on- 
ward to the sea. Some fishing smacks, sailing to and fro, 
seem absurdly small, and a man walking along the rocky 
shore below us is almost a speak. What a plunge it would 
be from here to the river! We remember with wonder 
the tradition of the man who fell over with a horse and 
buggy some years ago, and upon reaching the bottom, 
picked himself up safe and sound and led the horse home 
in the same condition. Looking to the right, and down 
the river, we see in the distance the Brooklyn Bridge and 
the spires of St. Patrick's Cathedral, and a little to thg left 
the Harlem River and Spuyten Duyvil. A train is just 
pulling out around the bend, and at first seems barely to 
crawl along; but its speed increases, and the pigmy cars 
seem to go about as fast as the toy trains one sees in the 
shop windows. Two puffs- of white smoke ascend from 
the engine, and almost a minute later two faint whistles 
come to our ears across the river. Further away, beyond 
the train and the Harlem River, is Long Island Sound, 
blue and dotlrd with white sails. 
As we gaz d on the wide prospect, a speck appeared in 
the distance, high up in the air. As it drew nearer it was 
seen to be a bird, and in a minute we knew it to be a 
hawk. Suddenly, with a quick swoop and uttering its 
peculiar, plaintive cry, it darted downward and disap- 
peared in a recess in the cliffs. We all hastened to the 
spot, and saw there one of the pretty sights that only a 
lover and frequenter of the woods ever sees. Some fifty 
or sixty feet below a good-sized rock, with some dry grass 
on it, jutted out from the face of the wall, and in a little 
hollow in this grass lay three beautifully tinted, brownish- 
colored eggs. We uttered cries of delight, and at the 
noise the hawk, which had been sitting nearby, took 
fright and scared out over the rive*-, uttering again that 
plaintive wail. 
The next thing was to get the eggs. Two persons re- 
mained above, while the others climbed down a cleft, and 
came up again under the nest. To reach it we soon found 
out was no easy matter. In fact it was almost an impos- 
sibility — bare, smooth walls to climb, with few footholds 
and only a stunted tree or two near the top. But one fel- 
low said he would try it, so we gave him a "boost," and 
up he started. He got about half way up without diffi- 
culty, for he was a good climber, but from there he could 
go no further, Straight up for over fifteen, feet, to the 
foot of a small cedar tree, a smooth wall extended. We 
flung up a rope we had brought with us, and he threw it 
over a branch of the tree. The hardest part of the climb 
was now to come, and he knew it, for from the tree up it 
was comparatively easy. He grasped the ends of the rope 
in both hands and began to pull himself up. He was get- 
ting along famously, when a sudden cry from the climber, 
and we were horrified to find that he was hanging in mid 
air by one end of the rope. The other end had slipped out 
of his hand and his weight had pulled it rapidly up and 
almost over the limb, but it had caught in a small notch. 
Just this notch stood between him and death, and there 
he was — his face white with terror — hanging to the end 
of the rope for dear life. A moment of breathless ex- 
pectancy and then he began to ascend. Slowly he crept 
up, placing one hand over the other. He was almost at 
the top, but seemed to weaken and be on the point of 
losing his hold. We placed ourselves under him, to catch 
him as he fell, but he had good, strong arms, and here 
they stood him in good stead. One mighty effort and he 
grasped the branch of the tree, hoisted himself up, and 
was safe. We breathed a sigh of relief and shouted to 
him to rest. 
The great strain over, he had but little strength left, 
and it was many minutes before he started upward again. 
But he had "sand," and eventually got the eggs and 
brought them down in safety. We all felt glad when he 
was again on terra firma, and after another rest pursued 
our way home. So much for the getting of the eggs, and 
a very exciting trip it was, too. 
We afterward showed the eggs to a veteran student of 
birds, and he surmised that they were duck hawk's eggs. 
We were much surprised and mightily pleased at having 
captured such prizes, and when we submitted them to the 
authority on the subject at the Museum of Natural History 
in New York, and found they were real duck hawk's eggs 
our satisfaction was great. 
That rope still hangs on the face of the Palisades as a 
memento of our companion's thrilling adventure, and I 
suppose the duck hawks sailing round there occasionally 
peck at it in angry resentment at having been robbed, 
through its help, of their eggs. H. H, C. 
A White Sparrow. 
Partial albinism among English sparrows is of quite 
frequent occurrence, as one may often observe in a flock 
of these noisy little pests, one with a number of white 
feathers on wings or tail. But a perfect albino is rarer. 
It was my good fortune to observe one of these birds last 
summer in the vicinity of Bridgetown, Pa., but unfortun- 
ately I was unable to secure it for my collection, for twice 
when the bird was seen there was no gun to be had, and 
on three different days when a special hunt was organized, 
the white sparrow apparently had an engagement in the 
next county, for it was not to be found. 
When first seen it was feeding by the roadside with a 
flock of a dozen or more of its ordinarily attired brethren, 
and seemed to realize that it was more conspicuous than 
they, for It flew off upon our approach, in advance of the 
others. It is not known that it was ma.ted, but it seemed 
to be on friendly terms with the reBt of the flock, and as 
far as could be seen was treated by them as if it were an 
ordinary sparrow. Albinos do breed and thus albinism 
becomes established and hereditary as in the case of white 
mice, white rabbits, etc. All animals and birds are liable 
to the deficiency or entire lack of pigment which pro- 
duces albinism, and birds tbat are normally black, such 
as crows and grackles, are just as likely to be affected as 
other species. A crow with almost entirely white wings 
was frequently seen near Woodbourne, Pa. , last summer. 
The cause or condition of albinism has not as yet been 
determined, so we must be content to simply call it a 
freak of nature. Hunters who are superstitious believe 
that albino animals and birds have charmed lives and 
cannot be shot. H. L. Graham. 
Germajttown, 
my* §zg §ntu 
GAME DESTRUCTION WEST. 
Deadwood, S. D., Oct. 2. — Editor Forest and Stream: 
I am by vocation a commercial traveler and by nature a 
lover of field sports, hunting and fishing. My business 
requires occasional trips to the western part of South 
Dakota and northern Wyoming. 
A few days ago, in conversation with some fellows of 
my own vocation on the train in Wyoming, I was told 
that a party of "Englishmen and dudes from Boston," as 
he styled them, while on a hunting trip a few weeks ago 
in the western Big Horn Mountains, had come across a 
herd of sixty elk in one of the small narrow valleys of 
that country, surrounded them and before quitting had 
killed the entire band, old and young, large and small, 
male and female, and had left the carcasses — with the ex- 
ception of a few of the larger heads for trophies — to feed 
the wolves and fatten the ravens. 
Such work as this is revolting to the senses of the true 
sportsman, and one's soul is filled with indignation at the 
relation of such wholesale murder, and it is that which 
calls forth this communication. We read in your value- 
able paper nearly every week reports from Boston 
hunters, but I question very much whether the hunters 
of that fair city will indorse such "sport" as this by any 
of their citizens. It is doubtful in my mind whether the 
parties to this affair ever read such progressive journals 
as our own Forest and Stream, and if they do they will 
certainly not report the result at this trip. 
I tried to learn the name of the person who gave this 
information, but the brother traveler who told me did 
not know his name, but he told the story in the rooms of 
the Sheridan County Commercial Company, of Sheridan, 
Wyo., and said that Mr. J. D. Adams, a member of the 
company, could give me his name. 
We cannot hope to have any elk and other large game 
long left in this country. The advent of railroads in these 
heretofore wild regions brings people nearer the home of 
the few that are left, and it is only a matter of a very 
short time when this noble game animal will be extinct. 
On this same trip, in conversation with a locomotive 
engineer — who himself is fond of the gun and rod — -I 
learned something of the great slaughter of grouse in the 
sandhills of northwestern Nebraska for commercial pur- 
poses. He declares that he is positive there is not an 
engine on the entire Burlington system — and they have 
some large ones — strong enough to move, in one train, 
the number of grouse that were shipped over that road 
last year, and. besides this, stacks of them that were left 
to rot on the prairie. The slaughter is now going on 
again, and we pray for the time to speedily come when 
our platform, "Prohibit the sale of game at all seasons," 
will be a law and enforced in the State of Nebraska. 
The past season in Nebraska has been so very dry that 
the young chickens have perished for the want of mois- 
ture, except possibly in the northeastern part^-even old 
ones are found dead over the prairie, either from the 
effects of the severe drouth or from some other cause. 
There is considerable discussion on this question. Some 
claim that it is from the effect of the dry weather and 
others that it is a disease among them. Ranchmen and 
settlers tell me that they find many nests with from ten 
to twenty eggs that apparently have never been set on, 
and that no old chickens have been seen for months in 
the vicinity. 
I am reminded of an interesting discussion going on 
some time ago regarding the efficacy of small caliber 
rifles for deer shooting. A friend of mine in this city 
tells me he loaned a party, who was going out for a two 
weeks' hunting and fishing trip, his little .32cal. Win- 
chester, just to take along to shoot grouse and other small 
game, but that it returned with seven deer to its credit. 
He does not say how many he crippled and lost, as he 
paid no attention to those that run off after shooting. 
This killing was said to have been done in Wyoming, as 
the State of South Dakota prohibits the killing of deer 
until 1896. Snow is already falling in the mountains 
and foot hills, and the wholesale slaughter will soon 
begin, as there are hundreds of hunting parties now out. 
E, E< 
