Sept. io, i8 9 s.T FOREST AND STREAM. 213 
1 ^ ^ - ■ to. i < 4 0 „_i 
there. Suppose you have a fnillion frogs. Imagine your- 
self feeding them by dangling: meat before each indi- 
vidual nose! 
Tadpoles are hatched by the thousand for every frog; 
that becomes adult. Fish, birds and frogs feed on them, 
in the larva, or tadpole state, and wheu they emerge fronn 
that they encounter the same enemies, with snakes; 
added. 
The frog is a solitary animal, never in the company 
of another except in the spring of the year; and they 
cannot be kept in numbers, like fishes, because they 
would starve if obliged to compete for food with their 
fellows. The frog farm has not yet been established 
where they can be. hatched and fed artificially umiiL 
ready for market, and it never will be. 
A Great Transformation. 
The change from a tadpole to a perfect frog is as 
wonderful as the change from a hairy, crawling caterpil- 
ler into -a beautiful butterfly; but somehow this wonder- 
ful transformation into a frog, while well known to a few, 
has not seemed to impress the general mind, as in the 
case of the butterfly. What happens is this: The frog 
lays its eggs, which are fertilized after being laid, as in 
the case of most fishes; the eggs are globular, jelly-like 
masses, which swell greatly after extrusion. In a few 
days the embryo is seen moving about, and it emerges, 
from the mass without absorbing it, a most unusual 
waste in animal life. The young is coiled in the egg, 
with a tail, much like an embryo fish, but having its. 
gills outside, and so hatches in an almost shapeless form.. 
Gradually it takes on the form of the large proteus 
(Necturus), called "lizard" on the Great Lakes, which 
retains its outside gills when adult. Then these outside 
gills absorb or develop inwardly, and the future frog is 
in all respects a fish. It has a long embryonic fin that is, 
eel-like, and begins back of the head and goes around 
the slim tail to the vent. Its eye is well developed, and 
the "herring bone" muscles in its tail can be plainly 
seen. It has a circular mouth, which can feed on either 
animal or vegetable matter. Its abdomen is large, and 
fitted for digesting vegetables. It rivals the ant in 
cleaning the flesh from delicate skeletons for the zoolo- 
gist. 
In this state it passes its first summer and goes into- 
the mud in winter, and comes out hungry in early spring. 
Like all larvae, it is a greedy feeder, and soon begins to 
show its growth and development by budding a pair of 
hindlegs, which are completed about the time the fore- 
legs begin to show and the ears to develop. When these 
legs are fully developed the tail begins to absorb, and 
the frog has already begun to take oxygen from the air 
occasionally; it is changing from a gill-breathing fish to 
a lung-breathing animal. Think what this means: 
Lungs are growing and gills are being absorbed, yet in 
the intermediate state the animal can breathe with both 
organs. The absorption of the tail goes to nourish some 
part of the body, but the adolescent bullfrog is now 
smaller than the tadpole from which it changed. 
Not only this, but its long, convoluted intestine, fitted 
to digest vegetation, has somehow changed to a shorter 
one, for the vegetarian requires a complex apparatus to 
digest its food, while the .similar organs in the carnivora 
are simple, flesh being easier of digestion than vege- 
tables. In proof, see the double stomach of ruminants, as 
cows, sheep, deer, rabbits and other cud chewers. They 
eat and swallow, and then lie down and chew their cuds 
like bicyclists. Perhaps man was once a ruminant, and 
the gum-chewing habit is a case of atavism, but that is 
a digression. We have seen that the tadpole changes 
not only its outward form to become a frog, but also 
all its internal econoury; hence my statement that its 
transformation from a larval form to an adult one is as 
complete and wonderful as that of a caterpiller into a 
butterfly. 
I want my young friend Jack and all other boys to 
note this evolution of the frog and the toad, which is 
the same, for their grandfathers will pay no attention to 
it, and their fathers will have little time to consider it, 
but a boy takes to such things, even if he learns no more 
when he gets into the money-grubbing stage; for boys, 
full of fun and jollity, often have a mental transformation 
which may be compared to the physical ones herein 
described. 
Marketing of the Frog. 
Once upon a time, many decades and nobody knows 
how many moons ago, I was a boy. It seems like a 
dream, or, as Tom Moore puts it in Lalla Rookh, "Like 
the faint exquisite music of a dream." Red blood was 
in my veins, and to storm a nest of bald-faced hornets 
had a spice of danger too tempting to resist. But there 
was an elderly Frenchman who lived in Albany, N. Y., 
away back in the 40s, who crossed the river to Green- 
bush to catch frogs to eat. We boys regarded a frog as 
a good target for a stone, but that a man should eat a 
frog was horrifying. So we preceded him and pelted 
every frog under cover, for John Atwood said — and he 
was old, was more than a dozen years old — that "There 
ought to be a law passed to stop people from eating 
frogs," and we boys agreed and looked upon ourselves 
as public benefactors in not only stoning the frogs, but 
the Frenchman as well. 
My father, then agent for and part owner of the Eck- 
ford line of steamers and barges plying from Albany 
to New York, had in his employ a ship carpenter named 
Cornelius Lanigan, who brought me some cold fried 
frogs, and I ate them, and then caught a lot and per- 
suaded my people to eat them-; so I became a frog-eater 
over forty years ago, and through an Irishman. 
Tons of frogs now come to New York markets each 
year. They are from Canada, Michigan and from the 
West and South, where the people have not yet learned 
to eat them; for there are practically none to be found 
near my boyhood frogging grounds, where I could easily 
get a hundred or more in a day. They do not get a 
chance to grow, for it is my belief that "an old rouser" 
of a bullfrog, with a body say Sin. long, is at least a 
dozen years old. I can't prove this from experiment, 
but believe it from the slow growth that several frbgs 
of my acquaintance have made. One that had lost part 
of one hindfoot 1 knew for three years; it* was about 5in. 
long when I first caught it, and had not grown over 
an inch in three years, although in a pool where food was, 
plenty. As about 9m. is the limit, this frog had not. 
ceased to grow. 
In the report of the U. S. Fish Commissioner for the 
year ending June 30, 1896, p. 497, Dr. Hugh M. Smith 
give the products of the fisheries for 1894, and we find 
the following credited to the frog catch, which, as be- 
tore said, is mainly sent to New York and other large, 
cities: Arkansas s8,9oolbs, value $4,162: Indiana 24,- 
ooolbs., $824; Missouri I54,8i81bs., $9,676; New York 61,- 
40olbs., $5,126; Ohio i4,04olbs., $2,340; Vermont 5,5oolbs.,. 
$825. Total, 3i8,6581bs., valued at $22,953. No other 
States are quoted. 
Few people outside the cities eat them. When itfe 
rural population take to eating frogs there will be none.* 
for the great markets. I have seen whole frogs skinnedl 
in Fulton Market, but usually only the hindlegs are- 
used; for, except in the case of monster specimens, there: 
>s little meat on other parts. 
An Outing in the Great Smokies. 
It was the first week in August, hot and dry, when the 
longing for a few days m our beautiful East Tennessee' 
Mountains, "the Switzerland of America," became irre- 
sistible — a deep pool, a shady nook, a fly-rod, and the, 
unutterable bliss of perfect quiet. 
The Doctor, Howard and I started at 4 o'clock Thurs- 
day morning, intending to drive forty-four miles, stop- 
ping with our old friend Clisby, in the heart of the wild,, 
weird Smokies. With a good team, a good lunch and! 
plenty of luscious blackberries, such as we find only in 
these mountains, lining either side of the road, we felt, 
that we were happy for the time at least, even if the fish, 
didn't bite. 
As we neared our destination we were startled by the: 
sudden appearance in the bend of the road of a small,, 
wizen figure, which we soon recognized as the wife, 
of our friend. 
"Wal, I do declar'! Howdy! I 'lowed yistidy to 
Clisby how as I reckon'd it wuz 'bout time you folks 
come a'tgr some them fish hyarbouts. My ole man, he's 
up thar on the mount'in a-gittin' fire, and I'm goin' 
down yander ter the 'tater patch ter fotch some work- 
han's ter holp him. Make yerse'fs ter home," and be- 
fore we could answer she had disappeared again as fast 
as her rheumatic legs would carry her, mopping her fajce 
with her apron. 
A minute more and there was the picturesque old mill, 
With the huge trunks of monstrous forest trees piled high 
to one side, awaiting the leisure of the master. Par- 
enthetically I might say that the owner of a mountain 
sawmill receives one-half of the lumber for his labor. 
Within a contracted loft just above the primitive per- 
pendicular saw is the corn mill, where the grain is 
ground by the rubbing together of two large stones. 
The shackly and old-fashioned wooden wheel, together 
with the small flow of water over the leaky dam, forbid 
the synchronous running of saw and grinding of mill 
stones. The old man's delight in the anticipation of an 
hour's rest, while the mill with its dtdl stones is slowly 
grinding a bushel of corn, is more real than apparent 
when along the mountain trail approaches a mountaineer, 
his back humped under his sack of corn. 
A little further, and there is the old fallen tree, serving 
as a foot log across the mountain torrent, which, drop- 
ping 15ft. over the dam above, joins the Little Pigeon just 
here, where it furnishes a cool home for the wary bass. 
The ever rushing, gushing water sounds always in one's 
ears until one might almost imagine he were at 
Niagara were it not that just across the stream is the 
old house, with its long row of beehives and great, 
spreading apple tree laden with fruit; the little porch 
with its shelf, on which stands the water pail and gourd, 
the wash pan, the common lavatory of this character 
istic home. Just inside is the little hall, with its strings: 
of red peppers hanging from the rafters, and its ladder- 
going up through a hole to the loft above. 
We took possession of our room, the one we had oc- 
cupied on former visits and which served in our absence 
as a store room for all the best company paraphernalia. 
In one corner just over the hole in the floor, one of 
many where by election the cat comes through to 
make us a friendly visit and finish our lunch, is the 
ancient spinning wheel, with yarn for Clisby's winter 
socks. 
Within a few minutes we have a one-gallowsed urchin 
off for minnows, leaving his companions standing with 
their mouths agape and their hands in their pockets 
watching our movements. 
Too impatient to wait for his return, we search among 
the rocks along the banks for helgramites, and in less 
time than it takes to tell it the Doctor is off wading down 
the stream, slipping and sliding; and while I may have 
felt a jealous pang when he soon held up to view a lively 
red eye I was perfectly contented to sit, or rather lie, on 
my great boulder, drinking in the cool, fresh air, heavy 
with the aroma of pine and balsam; languid with the 
lullaby of the low murmuring river, the droning of locust 
and jar-fly; occasionally laughing at Howard stretched in 
quiet contentment on the opposite bank or the Doctor 
working like a Trojan down the river. 
The next morning we were up bright and early after 
such a night's sleep as one can enjoy only when he- has 
left the cares of business far behind, and can dream 
of his struggles with a 5-pounder. What was our dis- 
appointment to find a steady downpour of rain, the river 
risen several feet, and no prospect of a hold-up. But, 
like every true sportsman, we must make the best of our 
bad luck and content ourselves with a game of poker, 
matches serving as chips, rosy-cheeked apples as dollars; 
target shooting from the little porch; or a good novel 
for an hour or two. 
The wholesome meals in these mountain homes are 
a great feature of the day's enjoyment. What can be 
better than fried chicken, ham and eggs, rich milk, 
fragrant butter and delicious honey? Clisby's tall, gaunt 
figure, with bent shoulders, is seated at one end of the 
little table: his thick, long hair thrown back from a low 
forehead, heavy beard, which gives the impression that 
he is all hair, were it not for the little, piercing blue 
eyes looking out from under overhanging bushy brows 
that twinkle when he -tells of his "b'ar and wolf hunts 
yander on Balsam," or flash with the reminiscences of" 
"the war." 
He only leaves his mountain retreat once in every 
three months, when he comes to town to get his pension 
of $8. The Doctor, an Alabamian, naturally asked him 
how he happened to be a rebel. 
"Wal, it wuz jes this er way: I 'lowed I'd go over 
yander ter Kintuck' — I had er purty good chance ter 
go — en I'd j'in thar. 'Bout that time I got 'thout eny 
money, en so I j'ined t'other side ter git some victuals, 
en when I wuz full I couldn't git out." 
It was not unusual to be startled at a meal by a sud- 
den thud, look up quickly, and opposite see the little 
woman smiling broadly, showing two snags, the only 
teeth she possessed, snuff brush in her mouth, and have 
her apologize by announcing "My corn jes hurt me that 
bad I reckon'd you-uns wouldn't mind my onhooken 
my shoe. Doctor, did yer ever see eny airysipelas?" 
and being assured in the affirmative continued, "I'm 
jes that ailin' en porely it actially seem like I can't stan' 
it." 
On the morrow, the elements permitting, we deter- 
mined to make a trip of about twelve miles further up the 
river to fish for mountain trout. After riding about six 
miles we were compelled to leave our horses and con- 
tinue our journey on foot. Climbing all the while up, 
up, over rocks, through the vast unbroken forests, among 
the laurel and rhododendron, sometimes a precipice 
rising abruptly on one side, on the other the river in a 
deep gorge far below; through the gap the distant peaks, 
their summits just covered by a fleecy cloud. 
We stopped to pick up Alex, a good, whole-souled, 
honest mountaineer, who had just been released from a 
three months' term in jail for "stilling," and was only 
too glad to join our lark, acting as guide, and carry- 
ing our lunch, frying-pan, etc. At Fort Harry we halted, 
put together our poles, got out our flies, and business 
began in earnest. My first cast with a brown hackle and' 
Parmachenee-belle was rewarded with a fine trout weigh- 
ing a little under J^lb. The fish in these mountain 
streams are not large, but they are numerous and gamy. 
Then began our true sport — jumping from boulder to 
boulder, stopping at a deep pool, then on again to where 
the river was swift, so narrow at times one could jump 
across, the mountains rising steep from either side, 
the sky a little blue streak above, the water clear as a 
(crystal. 
So engrossed were we in our sport we did not realize 
the lapse of time, until suddenly coming upon Alex, 
seated on a rock, a string of fish by his side, from his 
very attitude we guessed he must feel that gnawing sen- 
sation closely akin to hunger. We soon had a bright 
fire, the trout sizzling in the pan, the lunch spread, a 
boulder serving as a table, and we fell too with the de- 
light of children on their first picnic. Alex, like the 
true gentleman that he was, preferred the sardines, 
orange marmalade and deviled turkey (he had never seen 
either before), but trout were good enough for us. With 
a considerable show of secrecy, he drew Howard to one 
side, whispering, "I's seen turkey's what could fly an" 
them as couldn't, but that thar deviled up is a new un 
•on me." 
Then as the sun in all his majesty sinks lower and 
lower, seeming to melt into the earth beneath, leaving 
the heavens brilliant with his rich blues, gray and pinks, 
the dainty onalescent reflection in the east tells us — if 
omens may be believed — that we may expect just such 
another day on the morrow. Passing an occasional 
moumirain lass driving home her cows, stopping to buy 
for a mere song the pure maple sugar for our winter's 
syrap, we wend our way homeward. As the summer's 
twilight deepens, the mountains become more weird in 
their ourple, almost duskv, hue, but the moon in all her 
■splendor now rises over the peaks, and then we are soon 
home, tired and hungry, but happv with our day's outing 
and sad to think that to-morrow we must bid adieu to 
our kind friends. 
We gather around the crackling fire of hickory, logs 
even though it be the first of August, for it is often cold 
in midsummer in these knobs, listening for the last time 
to Clisby's yarns, telling our own experiences and wish- 
ing- that we might stay on indefinitely. 
I must not neglect to tell you that for all this com- 
fort and pleasure we pay at the rate of twenty-five cents 
a day apiece, and the same for each horse. 
One would be inclined to sav that theirs is a sordid, 
nrosaic life, and that he would feel the want of some- 
thing better, more ennobling. I perhaps would share 
with you this same feeling of oppressive narrowness in 
time, but no people on any snot on earth abound with 
more sterling qualities than those in these same East 
Tennessee Mountains. It is true the natives are cut 
off from all civilization, many of them never having seen 
a railroad; but they are good, honest and' withal clever. 
This was an uneventful trip in the point of great 
catches. biU we are the richer by several pounds of 
flesh, feel better and are more able to meet and solve 
the perolexing problems of life, anticioating next time 
.a hunt for one of Clisby's "b'ars" on Balsam. 
E. Western. 
The Boquet River. 
The Boquet River, in its lower course, near Lake 
Champlain. is a good bass water. Bass are plentiful, but 
they do not average large. Albert Ferguson and a 
companion caught twenty-three small-mouths weighing 
T3lbs. near Little Falls, just above Whallonsburgh, a few 
days ago, using minnows for bait. Hundreds "of small 
bass far below the legal limit in size are also taken from 
this stream. 
The Boquet above Elizabethtown is a prolific trout 
stream, and trout are taken all the way down to the 
high falls at Wadham's Mills. Below * this point the 
bass and pickerel from the. lake have about cleaned 
them out. though trout are found in the small tributary 
streams, and occasionally taken in the main river The 
Boquet is a beautiful stream from its furthest source un- 
der Dix. m the Adirondacks. to its juncture with l ake 
Champlam. near Willsborough. Its waters are of crystal 
nunty. and for most part it flows through rocky wooded 
land, or sandhills, where even the surface drainage is 
not apt to cloud it. t -d ""-r 
