24 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
the river, where it seemed as if nature had determined 
to make a final effort against further instrusion. Here, 
where the banks on either side rose to a perpendicular 
height of from 10 to 12 feet, two grand old trees which 
- had stood like opposing sentinals for many a score of 
years had fallen directly toward each other till their heads 
touched in midstream, and over and through their tangled 
trunks and branches innumerable logs and all other forms 
of driftwood were crowded together in impassable confu- 
sion. A careful siu-yey of the situation showed that there 
was nothing to do but 10 unload the "stores" on the 
drift, up-end the canoe against the bank as though it 
were a ladder, and when the crew had swarmed to the 
top, draw it up and carry it down stream till a launching 
point could be again reached — all of which was accord- 
ingly done. 
It was II o'clock of a charming morning when the Lit- 
tle Pilgrim landed at Blissfield, and a beautiful grove 
opposite the town seemed to offer alluring inducements 
for a dish of turtle smothered in strawberries. But be- 
fore abandoning themselves to gastronomic indulgence, 
ahd as, a ma!:ter of the most ordinary prudence, the crew 
of the Pilgrim dec ded first to go up into the village and 
inquire about the further course of the river and the dis- 
tance to the next town. They did so, only to discover 
how universal and comprehensive was the ignorance on 
ihose points. It was eleven miles by the wagon road 
to Deerfield, we were told, and presumably about the 
same distance by the river, which was supposed to be 
navigable for small boats. Further than this, no depon- 
ent could be induced to draw on his imagination. 
Eleven miles did not seem to be much of a stage in the 
afternoon of a long June day, and so we went into camp 
in the grove and proceeded to hull the strawberries and 
the turtle. This was to be the dinner of all the voyage, and 
there was no reason why unseemly haste or careless in- 
attention to details should mar the success of the occa- 
sion. After the tea had been made over the carefully 
built camp-fire and set aside in the spare tin cup. the 
turtle was tenderly deposited in the tea bucket and given 
all the time for its cooking that the most fastidious epi- 
cure could demand. Such a dinner, with all its entrees 
and side dishes, should net be passed through in a hurry, 
and it was not. And for this and other correspondingly 
good reasons it was 4 o'clock in the afternoon when the 
ashes were knocked out of the skipper's second pipe and 
the duffle was again stowed below decks for a resumption 
of our journey. Only eleven miles, and there were nearly 
four hours of daylight yet in the sky. And if the Little 
Pilgrim could not make the port of Deerfield in all that 
tiiue, why then — With the river we skirted the placid 
boundaries of the little town, portaged around the dam 
that appeared to have been the occasion of its existence 
and were once more away on the journey southward. 
The river had now begun to run a little more swiftly, 
as though it had itself some vague doubts about reaching 
Deerfield in time for supper; but the banks were still 
.sparsely settled and evidently both the turtles and the 
lovers along the shores were totally unaccustomed to ap- 
proach from the water side. And so it was that the Lit- 
tle Pilgrim, quite unintentionally and with mute apologies 
came unawares upon a pair of the latter as in the se- 
clusion of their place of tryst they exchanged confidences, 
half recumbent in the lu.sh June grass. But the passing 
stranger was only a fleeting interruption to their happi- 
ness, and it will be a satisfaction to those who have doubts 
about the future of the race to know that "Love finds a 
way." even in the scarce-trodden wilds of Michigan. 
Over many a pleasant stretch of water, over many a 
.shining ripple the buoyant craft had floated when the 
skipper's watch gave warning to the sun that it was hard 
upon the hour of 6. The Little Pilgrim was good for 
three and a half miles an hour without more serious exer- 
tion than was appropriate after our aldermanic repast, and 
we reckoned after a glance at the sun and another at the 
compass that we ought soon to be within hailing distance 
of^ the town of Deerfie'd. More to fortify ourselves in 
this conviction than to gain any fresh knowledge an in- 
quiry was addressed to the first denizen along the shores, 
asking him "How far is it," etc., and we were informed 
that the distance to Deerfield was in the neighborhood of 
fifteen miles. This was something, of a shock to our 
carefully drawn calculations, but we consoled ourselves 
with the reflection that the man upon the bank in all 
probability did not know any more about the river dis- 
tances than the inhabi'ants of Blissfield, and that he was 
as liable to err on the one side as they on the other. 
The subsequent decision was largely in favor of the man 
on the bank. 
As the sun sank still lower and the twilight came on 
apace the impression strengthened in the minds of the 
crew that the country through which we were passing 
was growing more wild and desolate. This was prob- 
ably a not unnatural inference, when all the circumstances 
were taken into consideration; and when in addition the 
gathering clouds began to threaten the daily storm, thus 
far held in abeyance for some unknown reason, it was 
also natural that a li'tle extra exertion with the paddles 
should send our craft along at an increased speed. All 
went well until, passing inadvertently into shallow water, 
the bottom of the boat struck a sharp stone, and we had 
a pract cal illustration of "A wet seat and a flowing sea," 
or a like quotation. Hastily we landed upon the low 
sandy beach adjacent, and as by this time the breeze had 
died away we were accorded the warmest possible recep- 
tion by the few hundred thousand mosquitoes which had 
prei'iously intrenched themselves at that point. But this 
did not prevent the making of the necessary repairs and 
we were soon afloat again, happy that our accident had 
been no worse. 
Eyen June twilight does not last forever, and in the 
deepening dusk the river showed black beneath us and 
the skv lowered darkly overhead. Soon the gathering 
night fell around us. shutting out the shores from view 
and veiling the river itself save where a slender thread 
of reflected lis-ht extended onward through the cer-tpr of 
the stream, hinting rather than pointing out its further 
course. Whither were we floating? Into what unknown 
comolicat-ons of dilema and disaster were the hurrying 
waters bear-'ng us? The paddles were slowed, and the 
Lit le Pilgrim moved cautiously, uncertain as to what 
might be m store for her in the mvsterious gloom that 
shrouded her on all sides. But whether hastening or de- 
laying, the current was ever drawing us on, like an un- 
seen siren, intent upon our destruction. 
Jay Beebe. 
[to be continued.] 
The Simple Life. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
I was journeying north the other day, aricl its the cars 
rolled along I was reading Forest and Stream, and at 
the same time could see in advance two little trout 
streams where I was to spend the day. Some one spoke 
to me from the seat behind, and upon turning around I 
saw two gentlemen somewhat past middle age. One was 
Superintendent of Schools of Bergen county, N. J., and 
the other a New York architect. From each one I 
learned something of the other. The architect told me 
that the superintendent was greatly interested in Arbor 
Day, and in instructing the children regarding the ad- 
visability of preserving the trees, etc., and of being kind 
to animals and birds. The superintendent told me that 
the architect was very much interested in the condition 
of mankind,' and I obtained the inclosed eulogy, which 
substantiates the superintendent's statement. I thought 
that it might be interesting to Forest and Stream 
readers to know what spme men are doing in the way of 
good. W. W. Hastings. 
The etdogy which Mr. Hastings sends was spoken by 
Mr. J. Burrage Reed, and from it we quote these para- 
graphs of tribute to a simple and lovable character: 
"In many respects Abe Van Allen was a king; he was 
unselfish to his own hurt, a quality almost unknown in 
our day. 
Kindness to animals' was a part of his tiature; he 
loved the birds, and delighted to listen to their songs, and 
his love of flowers amounted to a passion. Many a 
dooryard in our neighborhood was brightened by flowers 
of his planting, which will continue to bloom and shed 
their fragrance as reminders of him. 
"There was a peculiar pleasure in meeting him in his 
quiet hoine. a sunny spot yonder, with forest-like sur- 
roundings, where kittens were always playing around his 
door, and a thousand flovv'ers of every hue were bloom- 
ing all the summer time. This little garden was his 
kingdom, where he reigned supreme. Plere all was peace 
and quiet; here we would find a man simple as a child, 
showing gladness at our approach, and giving us hearty 
welcome." 
Photographing a Partridge. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
Having learned that a partridge was sitting ori fourteen 
eggs in one of Greenfield's ravines, I reiolved to try a 
shot at her with my ever reliable camera. The little 
home was located down in the dry bed of a brook about 
20 feet below the traveled road, just at the foot of a tree. 
I went down the bank carefully, stopping frequently 
that 1 might not frighten the little mother; but when I 
was about 10 feet from her she left the nest and ran up 
the bank, crying piteously, with one wing dropped down 
as if broken. I did not chase her nor pay any attention 
to her, but set up my camera about 3 feet from the nest. 
I had worn a dress as near the color of the ground as 
possible, and having got my camera exactly as I wanted 
it I lay down with the rubber bulb in hand. I covered 
myself with leaves and closing my eyes kept perfectly 
still. In a few minutes the bird came where she could 
see me and began to spit and scold; she would come 
near and then fly away in a fright. Each time she came 
a little nearer and finally came to my very feet. Being 
convinced that I was harmless she went up and sat on 
the nest. By opening my eyes I could see her; and I 
waited until she was contentedly settled, then opened 
my shutter and gave the plate the necessary exposure. 
I changed my plates quickly and carefully, but each time 
I scared the bird away. She did not go out of sight, 
however, and as soon as all was quiet she would come 
back. 
I spent about an hour and a half with the lady, then 
came home well satisfied with my afternoon's trip. 
Two mornings later about 5 o'clock the much disturbed 
mother left the nest with twelve little chicks. 
EuGENA W. Gaines. 
Greenfield, Mass. 
Old World Forest Lessons. 
An impressive object lesson, threefold in scope, against 
our mad destruction of forests comes to us from the Old 
World. One is in the Indian famine. What causes the 
famine? Drought. And what causes the drought? The an- 
swer is in the dryness of the treeless plains and in the 
abundant moisture of the forest and jungle. The be- 
wildering increase of population under the ben'gn peace 
of British rule has increased proportionately the demand 
for arable land, and to supply that demand forest and 
jungle have been swept away by thou.sands of square 
miles. And now come drought and famine. Another 
lesson conies from Egypt. The Nile is drying up. Not 
only does it never even approximate to the he ght and 
depth it knew in ancient times, but it is perceptibly 
dwindling now from year to year. Why? Because in 
those remote wildernesses toward the sources of the great 
river forest destruction is proceeding at a rate unrivaled 
even by our own osstrus goaded tree slayers. And the 
third is from the Congo, where the seemingly inex- 
haustible forests have already sufYered such ravages that 
men are now talking of the need of protective measures. 
We have only tq^ilook at Persia and at the Sahara to 
see the full fruitiorf^of the forest destroying policy. Once 
Persia was the most fertile land of Asia, well watered and 
richly wooded. Once the Sahara was the granary of 
Africa and of Europe. To-day they are barren sands.. 
They are stiU traversed by rivers, but these flow far be- 
neath the surface. Here and there they rise sufKciently 
to maintain small oases. Elsevvfhere they are h.dden 
below sands as dry and sterile as a furnace floor, through 
which, however, if a well be sunk, the subterranean stream 
is surely tapped. Wherever by artificial irrigation the 
area of vegetation, and especially of woodland, is ex-^ 
tended, nature gladly responds with a return toward her 
former benign condiJons. The French in the Sahara 
are taking advantage of this fact, and are actually making 
measurable progress toward reclamation of that desert. It 
is reasonable to believe that through irrigation and' re- 
foresting conditions may be reached in which artificial 
irrigation will cease to be necessary, for nature will do the 
work she used to do before her principles of climatic 
. economy were outraged by artificial deforestation. 
These lessons, all three of them, are directly applicable- 
to the United S.ates. We have actually known famine in 
some of the Western States through the malign effects of 
drought. Some of our streams are dwindling as in the 
Nile, and threaten to vanish entirely as those of the 
Sahara have done. And if in the stupendous arboreal 
wilderness of the Congo it is becoming necespary to devise 
protective measures, what shall be said of .such necessity 
in a country so recklesly denuded of its wr'od'and^ as our 
own? The laws of nature cannot be violated with im- 
punity. She gave the forests as medium'^; nf mturni irriga- 
tion. If we destroy the means we lose the end. The law 
is inexorable. Men now see trickling rills where in their 
bovhnod they saw full brimming streams. And they also 
see bare, sun-scathed hillsides whore then they saw dense, 
primeval forests. It is cause and effect nothing more. 
But should not rational men learn the lesson? — New York 
Tribune. , 
Some Snake Stofles. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
A recent article on poisonous snakes prompts me to 
communicate the experience of a friend in the South. 
He is a distinguished educator, and his word can be 
taken without discount. 
When a young fellow he one day climbed' to the top 
rail of an old-fashioned fence and sat down. A noise in 
the briars and sma.l bushes near attracted h-'s attention. 
Presently he saw a rattlesnake and a blacksnake engaged 
in deadly conflict. After being bitten the black wouid go 
to a water weed growing near, bite that and then return 
to battle. When this had occurred several times mi^ 
friend went and pulled up and threw away the water weed 
and then resumed his former position to watch results. 
They were soon apparent. The blacksnake went for his 
antidote, and, unable to find it, soon began to waver, reel 
as if growing blind, and then straightened out dead. My 
friend then kifled the ratt'er. 
At another time my fr end had been prospecting with 
a geologist among the mountains of Virginia. On the 
return, and the geologist ciuite in advance, my friend-, in 
hurrying down a mountain side to overtake his com- 
panion, sprang upon a large log. Tns'antly "Burr-r-r-r" 
warned him of danger, and looking just where he ex- 
pected to land, he saw a huge ratt'er co led and ready to 
strike. My friend was under such headway that he could 
not stop, so gathering all his force he made a leap for 
life right over the rattler and struck the ground some 20 
feet from the log- with a startled "O oh!" and rolled on 
down the mountain side. 
Hearing the outcry the geologist came back with 
"What's the matter?" "Rattlesnake" was sufficient ex-- 
planation. Then the two went back and found the snake 
coiled just as he was and killed him. He was 7 feet long, 
big as a man's arm and had twenty-one rattles. My 
friend was a champion athlete and it paid him well that 
day. His son is one of the champion athl'^'^"'^ '^f the 
South to-day. Juvenal. 
"That reainds me."* 
The Phantom Buck. 
The three of us were together again — ^Jack, Jim and T — 
and were ready for a good lime, and for anything that 
might turn up in the way of big game. 
Old Hogarth had paddled across the lake, with one of' 
his sons, to make us a friendly vi.sit, and place himself 
and all his belongings at our dispo.'ial. Hogarth was the 
only settler with.n twenty miles of our camp. He had a 
small clearing on the opposite side of the lake where he 
raised a mixed varie.y of weeds and "garden truck." and 
enough fodder for his two bony horses and a sad-eyed 
cow that yielded an uncertain quantity of milk at odd 
intervals during the year. He also had a large famiiy — 
large as to size, that is — consisting of the "old woman" 
and seven strapping sons, like Islimael, of Biblical fame. 
Bill, the eldest son. a big red-haired, red-bearded' 
giant, had come along with his father on this par.icular 
occasion. He had greeted us bashfully and then relapsed 
into a stolid silence that defied all our blandest efforts. 
We gathered about the fire and passed around the "little 
brown bottle," and lighting our pipes, proceeded tp enjoy 
Hogarth. 
"How's the hunting around here now?" Jack inquired 
as an opener, 
"Hnntin's .firSt irate." Hogarth drawled in reply.. 
"Couldn't ask fer no better huntin'. When it comes to 
shootin' somethin', though, that's difrunt. Ain't had a 
shot at a deer fer a dog's age. barrin' the phantim buck." 
"Barring the what?'' I asked, puzzled. 
"The phantim buck. That's what a feller named him 
a couple o' years ago, an' the name's sort o' stuck. Guess 
y'ain't bin 'round these yere parts sence that buck fust 
made himself num'rous?" 
We said that we had not. and Hogarth continued: 
"Waal, it's a derned funnv thing when you stop to- 
think 'bout it. That air buck's hin hangin' 'round hpr-e 
fer three whole .reasons je^t a-laf?in' at us^ Mr- nor Bill 
nor anybo(fts'rran't make head or tail of it. You h'a^e 
awav at the old cues an' he je^t shakes his flag at voij, I'ke 
a gal wavin' good-bv to her best feller, an' away he goes. 
An' ef y' go a-huntin' fer hiqi speshul, y' jest naterly git 
