104 
lall, sober, uuiet man' at. i come tli know wri', my 
f 3 thcr 
"NadW an' ag'in he'd be gone for days an' days, an" me 
left in a big log haouse wi' a good-lookin' red woman 
takin' keer o' me, an' me a-playin' wi' little red boys an 
gals, an' I'arnin' tu talk their lingo, an' all their ^yays m 
the woods— sneakin' ontu squirrels an' pa'tridges an ducks 
sly as foxes, an' shootin' 'em wi' bow arrers. That's all 
1 remember o' my start in life, an' I come to know it was 
in a Mohawk taown mv father an' me was hvm'. So it 
run along till I was six year ol' mebby, an a reg lar leetle 
Injin as any on 'era, an' one day a party o' painted In- 
jins come bringin' my father tu his haouse on a litter, sore 
wounded an' at the p'int o' death, an' my squaw mammy 
a-crjnn' an' takin' on over him. He lay mighty still, 
mostly, an' kep' me clus' tu him, an' one day he says, 'My 
poor lad, I must go an' leave thee, I'm afeerd,' an he gi' 
me a package o' papers sewed up in a buckskin bag, an' a 
leetle pictur' of a woman 'at he tol' me was my mother, 
an' tol 'me tu keep 'em all safe whatever come. The 
papers I lost or was stole; the pictur' I'll show ye fust 
place we land. 
"Wal, my father he died pooty soon, an left me a lone, 
lorn leetle chap as ever you see. Arter a spell the' was a 
lawyer man come up from Albany an' took me back along 
wi' him, an' I was livin' comf'table as I could ask, 'cept 
goin' tu school, which I didn't like. Next I knowed I was 
nabbed one evenin' by some o' my ol' Mohawk friends an' 
carried off tu their taown; an' then I was_ hustled, raoun', 
hither an' yon, naow huntin', naow fightin". 
"Then I drifted intu Conne't'cut an' the Bay Colony, an' 
tried tu stiddy daown tu white folkses life, but it wa'n't no 
use. It was huntin' or trappin' or scaoutin', till at last I 
was in Rogers' Rangers an' 'long wi' Nabby Crmnbie's big 
army tu Lake George. The' was lots happened betwixt, 
but nothin' tu du wi' this .story. The' was no eend o' sirs 
an' lords in thet army, an' the best on "em all was Lord 
Howe, who was the raal head an' heart o' the army.^ He 
hedn't none o' the high an' mighty airs o' most o' the 
British, 'at was allers a-stickin' up their damned red 
noses at us ProA'incials. He knowed we knowed more 
about bush fightin' 'an they did, an' he sot tu tu I'arn 
all he could o' ary on' us. officer or private.^ He wa'n't 
above takin' lessons b' me in rifle shootin', an one day he 
says tu me, 'Where 'd ye git your high-due' name, Dal- 
rymple?' an' I says, 'From my father, I s'posc." 'An' who 
was he?' says he, an' I tol' him all I knowed, it interestin' 
on him mightily, an' when I showed him the pictur' he 
looked a long spell at it an' at a sort o' pictur' on the 
back, an' then he up an' says, 'You've got noble blood in 
your veins, an' if you had your rights you'd be a Scottish 
peer. Haow 'd ye like tu be a lord?' 'I do' know, your 
lordship,' says I. 'I hain't never had no experience in 't 
•What du they hafter du, my lord ?' 
"He kinder laughed, an' says he, 'You'd haftu ride over 
your estate an' see haow things was goin', an' you'd live 
in a big fine haouse wi' lots o' sarvants, an' entertain lots 
o' fine ladies an' gentlemen, an' you'd have a seat in 
Parliament, an' I can't teU ye what all,' 'An' wear fine 
clothes an' have my hair iled an' powdered?' says 1. 'Of 
course,' says he, 'an' have lots o' money an' hunt an' shoot 
in .the proper seasons.' 'That's suthin' like.' says I, 'but 
the clo's an' the com'ny, an" the paowdered hair an' the 
big haouse, I do' want none on 'em, thank ye, my lord, an' 
then he laughed fit tu split, an' then sobered daown an' 
says, 'Wal, when this campaign is over I shall look the 
matter up, for I believe if you had your rights you'd be 
Sir Kenelm Dalrymple of that ilk, in.stead of a poor private 
in the Rangers.' 'But this is a tol'able free life,' says I, 
'an' my clo's is easy an' my hair short, an' I don't haftti 
ride no horse,' an' then he laughed again. 
"But he was killed in the fust skirmish, more's the pity 
for us all, an' there wa'n't never no more o' my bein' Sir 
Kenelm — not as I care the primin' of a rifle for that, 
though. Haow'd you enj'y bein' one on 'em, Josi?" 
"I hain't never be'n in the lordin' business. Not so 
much as seen one on 'em, an' I can't say," Josiah an- 
swered after some consideration. "But I cal'late a tew 
hundred acre pitch an' a hired man 'Id gi' me abaout all 
the lordin' I want to tackle. 
"The freedom o' the woods is belter 'n the hul on't," 
said the lordless heir of a princely manor, as he turned the 
canoe's prow to an inviting beach, and, there as they rested 
from paddling and stretched their cramped legs, he drew 
forth from his breast a miniature of a beautiful woman 
clad in the costume and with her hair in the elaborate 
dressing of the first decade of the century. In the back 
of the locket were the armorial bearings of the Dalrymples 
of Dalrymple, in gold and enamel, with the legend "Suum 
cuique." 
"And this is all you ever seen o' your mother is't?" 
Josiah asked, .after studying the fair face awhile. 
"All 'at I remember," the old man answered, with a 
sigh, as he carefully replaced the miniature in an inner 
pocket. "An I tell ye what it is, boy, a man 'at hain't 
never had a chance to know his mother has got the odds 
ag'in him. Wal, there's aour fleets, an' we mu.st let 'em 
know what they're comin' tu," said Kenelm, as the van 
of the American flotilla appeared beyond a distant head- 
land. 
They made all haste now to return and soon met the 
flagship in advance. This they boarded and Kenelm made 
his report to Arnold, while Josiah held on at the side in 
the canoe, the salt-sea sailors looking down in contempt 
and wonder at him and his frail craft. 
"Say, cabbagehead !" one of them called, "did ye sight 
the fleet? How many sail, did ye make 'em, an' where 
aAvay be they ?" 
"As many as you'll want, an' they'll soon be nigher 'an 
you want," said Josiah. 
Orders that were issued by the German West African 
officials that all firearms in the hands of the natiA'es 
should be stamped and registered aroused much discon- 
tent. Lieutenant Eggers, in Damaraland, however, got 
along with no trouble. He had inoculated cattle for the 
rinderpest three years before, as the Damaras saw, with 
good results. He therefore announced that he was ready 
to vaccinate their rifles so as to insure their shooting 
straight and doing no hurt to their owners, and the 
Pamaras. crowded to him to get their guns stamped. 
FOHIST Ann STREAM. 
George A. Boardman, Naturalist, 
BY CJlARLES HAlXOCfc. 
Thk honored subject of this sketch seems to be one of 
those elect whose lives have been graciously prolonged 
because of their u.sefulness to men. Recognized for three- 
quarters of a century as a keen, discriminating naturalist, 
and possessing the most complete private museum of 
. natural history extant, he is now, in his eighty-second 
year, as painstaking as ever in his investigations, devoting 
himself with energy almost unimpaired by time to his 
favorite pursuit and study. Statedly, every week he con- 
tributes to the Calais Times an article on such natural 
history subjects as engage the interest of household 
readers and inform them of the peculiar places which our 
famihar creatures of the fields and swamps and woods 
occupy in the animal kingdom. In this manner he does 
much to remove prejudices against insects, birds and rep- 
tiles deemed noxious, and this helps- to preserve the 
biological balance among associated fauna. 
Now it happens that students and scientists who have 
become eminent in their profession are usually so segre- 
gated and intent on their transcendental pursuits that they 
often fail to become conspicuous among the world's honor 
men; and hundreds of such are enrolled on the unpub- 
lished book of the immortals whom the general public 
have never heard of, simply because they occupy a super- 
lativeljf higher plane. These have no time to exploit their 
achievements. Such a man, I may be permitted to say, is 
George A. Boardman. of Calais. Maine, an ornithologist 
of highest repute among scientists, a contemporary and 
whilom associate and co-worker with Audubon. Agassiz, 
Downs, Todd, Baird and Bethune, those studious ob- 
GEORGE A. BOARDMAN. 
.servers of natural objects whose renown lingers after their 
departure like the afterglow of a midsummer sunset. 
Scores of his rarest specimens have gone into the Govern- 
ment collections at Washington, not without a transient 
pang, yet with heroic recognition begotten of a keen sense 
of Uncle Sam's priority and inherent right of possession. 
For example, he had in his museum at Calais (which is 
installed in a spacious two-story building devoted ex- 
clusively to the purpose) an incomparable lot of Indian 
stone implements of most every kind, including some fine 
spear heads found at the Grand Lake Stream while digging 
for the first dam in i860, not far from Dr. Bethune' s old 
camp. Prof. Baird, he remarks, ingenuously enough, 
"thought the Government Museum had the best right 
to them, and took them away." 
"When Prof. Baird used to visit me," lie writes, "we 
used to go among the elderly people and pick up lots of 
trumpery (sic) such as spinning wheels, flax wheels, old 
canoes and Indian things. I had a queer old wooden 
anchor which was dragged up in the lake, such as Indians 
used to hold their canoes while fishing. Baird thought this 
a good find. There was a shell heap about tv/elve miles 
below here that we used frequently to visit and dig over. 
He was a ver}^ happy man when on the hunt for relics. 
Even after he was taken sick he ttsed to write me that he 
wanted to come up and finish that shell heap." 
The chief feature of Mr. Boardman's zoological collec- 
tion is a complete presentation of the local fauna of 
Maine, including 278 species or varieties of birds found 
in the eastern section. The museum in its entirety com- 
prises some 2,500 specimens, mounted and in skins, with 
the -'oung and eggs of the most of them; also a good col- 
lection of horns- — thirty-five different kinds. Among his 
rarer miscellaneous specimens are the skins of a black 
wolf and of a bay lynx (Lynx nifus), both obtained in 
Florida, where he passed no less than twenty winters. 
Mr. Boardman has always been an enthusiastic angler, 
and his adjacent lakes, streams and salt-water estuaries 
have constantly furnished him with the best fish that ever 
graced a hook ; not only the pelagic roamers of the ocean, 
but the landlocked salmon, togue, trout and salmon of 
the waters inland. Prof. P. W. Glover, for many years in 
the United States Agricultural Department at Washing- 
ton, was a comrade of his in the days when landlocked 
salmon bore the name of Salmo gloveri: and the two were 
the first to determine th*e species, and class it accordingly. 
An old letter from Mr. Boardman. indited in 1885, enu- 
merates some of his earlier angling friends In the day-^ ^ 
when he went gipseying; and to a person who rem.embers 
them all, by name at least, it seems like roll call to go over 
them again. There were Dr. Bethune, Rev. James Smith, ■ 
a Baptist minister of Philadelphia ; Geo. P. Trott, of Phila- , 
delphia ; George Dyer, a lawyer of Washington, D. C. ; 
G. P. Whitney, of Boston, with Ben French, Stephen 
Pines, John Pollice and Frank Waite as river men and 
guides. "Senator Edmunds," the letter runs, "was up once ■ 
or twice with one of my sons, and had great sport. Henry 
Ward Beecher and his father were up, and also Walter 
Brackett, the fish painter of Boston ; my brother, Wm. H. 
Boardman, and Geo. M. Porter, of St. Stephen. Mr. Bab- 
cock, of Boston, died from snake bite in Florida at Pine 
Island two years ago. Frank Kennedy, also a fisherman, 
was with him. Stimpson H. Dennison, Boston ; Geo. H. 
Richards, Boston; his father, Francis Richards, and 
Uncle Henry Richards used to come up years ago ; 
Judge Ritchie, of New Brunswick ; Dr. Leith 
Adams, Prof. Bailey, of Fredericton, N. B., and manv 
others whom I do not now recall to mind. It is over fifty 
years ago since I began to go to the lakes, and I can see 
great changes. Fish then very abundant, have now been 
killed by tanneries, pickerel, etc. Our St. Croix River . 
used to be a great loreeding place for water birds, but 
since pickerel were put in about thirty years ago they have 
most all left. Pickerel destroy the chicks, so that very 
few ducks or grebe now breed with us. Year before last 
there was very good salmon fishing with fly just above 
the toll bridge between Calais and Milltown. Some were 
taken last year, but not so many." [This year, 1899, they 
were fairly abundant, affording good sport. — Editor.] 
Mr. Boardman has been prominent all his life in im- 
portant business interests, and now is in banks, in steam- 
boats, vessels, lumber and mills. In 1870 he retired with a 
competency, but liis time is quite fully occupied in. a 
variety of ways, the public for the most part being bene- 
ficiary. His museum, I understand, is to go to Bowdoin ii 
College at his death. He was one of the first half-dozen ' 
subscribers to Forest and Stream in 1873. and has con- 
tinued it ever sinjce. He was born Feb. 5, 1816, and is the 
father of ten sons and one daughter. His wife's death was 
recent. The portrait herewith shown was taken in July, 
and indicates a long continuance of life, for which all men 
pray. 
Wanted, a Sportsman or So. 
Many tilings have been written for these columns upon 
the subject of sportsmanship. In our day there are so , 
many diversions which people call sport that I have never 
admired the word sportsman, but until a better word is , 
found, or becomes idiomatic, it must cover a multitude of 
very widely differing individuals. 
As the word is used, in some of its many applications 
it is at some time applicable to all mankind, and it seems 
that it should be relieved, of a portion at least, of its 
tremendous strain. After having perused Forest and. 
Stream for twenty years, I am of the opinion that it is 
not a sportsman's nor a sporting journal, and that sports- 
men are not especially predominant in its constituency. 
In support of my opinion, which I hold with the knowl- 
edge of the fact that this journal characterizes itself as "a 
medium of entertainment, instruction and information 
between American sportsmen," I submit that it has ful- 
filled, and is fulfilling, a broader, higher and nobler mis- 1 
sion, and that it has attained beyond the status implied 
by its own modest characterization of itself. We may 
as well call Cfesar a soldier, or Shakespeare a poet, with- 
out some qualifying or distinguishing addition. 
The word sport as defined by Webster is an abbrevia- 
tion of the word disport, and its import or definition, as 
generally interpreted, implies play, diversion, wantonness, 
mockerjf and trifling. Webster's definition of sportsman 
is "one who pursues the sports of the field; one who 
hunts, fishes and fowls." 
With thus much for complaint, I desire to submit as 
argument, logic, or what you will, tliat the constituency 
most notably represented by Forest and Stream is not 
made up of sports, triflers, hunters, fishers nor fowlers. 
To clinch this assertion I will be content to offer the 
pages of the journal for a quarter of a century as evi- 
dence, and rest my side of the case. I freely admit that 
mere triflers, fishers, fowlers and hunters are compre- ' 
hended and in evidence, but I affirm they are in the 
vast minority and decreasing most beautifully. 
Admitting the distinction that, to the minds of most 
readers, there is between sports, sporters, sporting men 1 
and sportsmen, I do not think either the editors, the ^ 
chief contributors to nor the body of readers of Forest 
AND Stream can be fairly called or distinguished properly 
by any sportive appellation. You will scarcely find a 
more serious class, and if they resort to the forests and 
streams they are not often in quest of sport so much as 
of recreation, rest, exercise or contemplation. 
I object to the word sportsman for more than one 
reason, but, for the sake of brevity, I enter my first 
complaint on the ground of its being misleading and 
morally pernicious as applied to the class of persons 
comprehended in the phrase "American sportsmen." Let 
us confine the meaning of the word sportsman to Web- 
ster's definitions— "One who pursues the sports, of the 
field ; one who hunts, fishes and fowls" ; or "One skilled 
in the sports of the field." According to the first a 
sportsman must pursue sports, hunt, fish and fowl; ac- 
cording to the second he must be skilled in the sports. 1 
I will make the assertion that the great majority of 
the readers of Forest and Stream, its editors and it.^; 
most entertaining and appreciated contributors are nol 
sportsmen in any specific sense of the word. If this 
assertion is denied I will not consider it refuted until 
twelve good men and true, its most popular contributors, 
admit over their signatures that they are sportsmen. 
Even if they deny the title through modesty or diffidence j 
they are not to have it conferred or thrust upon them 
without a chance to defend themselves. 
I have tossed my glove, into the very center of the 
arena. Let the champion of the other side have at him. I 
have some fresh spear heads up my sleeve. 
The arrogant assertions foregoing have not been made 
without considerable experience, observation and reflec- 
tion. Twenty years ago I aspired to be a sportsman ; ten 
years ago I was content to think I was a sportsman; 
