Aug. 24, 1901.] 
FOHEST AND STREAM. 
143 
aboiit her usual duties. Her husband, therefore, took 
upon himself the cares of the household, and on this 
particular occasion is represented as bearing home on 
his back a sufficiency of firewood to heat the hot cobbles 
in the usual pit oven for the baking of food. The picture 
is true to life. Samoans are good to their women in 
proportion to their lights. It is a disgrace, because a 
blunder, to attempt to discover any of the dainty and 
refined sentiments which make life sweet and whole- 
some; it is not in them, and they are unfitted to under- 
stand what one would be after, although ready enough to 
lie about it for a consideration. But in a certain rough 
and ready way it is true that Samoan women occupy a 
very good position and have very little of the rough and 
heavy work to do, it being understood that this applies 
to Avork which they themselves would consider rough 
and heavy, and not at all to. what might seem such to our 
way of thinking. 
At the critical moment the twins are represented as 
engaged in such amusement out of doors as their de- 
formity might leave open to them, the mother sick upon 
the mats at home, the father just on the point of throw- 
ing off from his shoulders the load of firewood which 
he has just brought home. There is no great likelihood 
that customs now are different from the early customs 
of the people; if so, the father- would celebrate so unusual 
a thing as real work by setting up a lusty shout imme- 
diately upon the crash of his wood upon the ground. Be 
that detail as it may, it is expressly stated that the crash 
of the bundle of fagots terrified' them. They jumped 
apart in their fright, the ligament snapped, and they 
suddenly found themselves ready to begin individual 
existence. The father, no less startled than themselves 
when he beheld them running free, ran after them in 
pursuit. But the mother from her mats saw the chase 
of the fleet ones, and called to her man to cease the pur- 
■ suit, that the power of the gods was in the twin sisters 
and that they wotild go far, yet return safely home at 
last. 
The children continued to run until they came to the 
sea, into which they leaped together and struck out 
boldly from the shore. The legend is silent as to the 
first_ part of their independent career at sea among the 
bonito and the flying fish. But when the}^ are swimming 
off the mouth of Safata Bay. being at the least fifty miles 
from the starting point, and representing a long-distance 
^ swim for persons less gifted than these two young women, 
it is stated that they encountered a floating mast, just as 
f happened to myself at the same spot of sea, thus lead- 
ing to a knowledge of the old story. Feeling the need of 
\ some rest, a rather surprising thing on the part of twins 
who had swam only half a hundred miles, they rested 
I their arms on the mast at one end, whereupon it sank 
I with them. It should be said that these Samoan canoe 
masts are nothing but saplings, and never exceed 2 
; inches at the butt, and the buoyance of such a stick would 
be very slight. The other end of the mast now coming 
above the surface, the tw^ins tried to support themselves 
by it, yet with no better success. After thus establishing 
the fact that so slight a stick could not sustain them, one 
of the girls finds in that circumstance the name which 
i for all these years she has been waiting for. Because 
it is so true to island life and thought, and because it 
elucidates the absolute inconsequentiality of motive power 
I in many cases of island determinations. I quote here a 
I block of the dialogue in the native narrative : 
" 'Sister,' said one of the swimming maidens. 
" 'What would you say, sister?' replied the other swim- 
[ mer. 
I " 'This mast is hard' (to hold on to, being understood) . 
" 'Aue ! hard indeed.' 
" 'Sister, I have found my name.' 
"What is your name, sister?' 
" 'Tilafainga, the mast that is hard to hold, that is my 
name.' " 
_ Having named one of the sisters and finding no par- 
ticular need for a rest after all, since their swim so far 
had only been some fifty miles, they struck out eastward 
still, and the narrative next takes them up at sunrise 
when they are landing in Tutuila, rather more than a 
hundred miles from Safata. Here the remaining twin 
finds her name in the same way and announces it in 
similar set form. This name is Taenia, or Glistening 
Beach, and she assumes it because the shining of the 
wet beach in the flat, eastern rays of the rising sun 
catches her eye and her fancy. 
Here on Tutuila, United States, the swimmers settle 
down for a long enough time to marry chiefs of that 
island. But after their experience of the freedom which 
whales and eels enjoj^, it would be too much to expect 
such young women to rest content with domestic life 
that tied them to the house. So one fine day, and in the 
legend no reason for breaking away from home is 
assigned or excuse offered, they slipped into the Pacific 
Ocean and struck out for new lands. Their first des- 
tination was Tonga, the merest dash of 500 miles without 
interruption. On arrival in Tonga they lost no time in 
marrying the king of that place, the legend distinctly 
charging bigamy in this instance. From Tonga they 
again deserted their royal spouse, eloped with themselves 
and betook themselves once more to sea. This time they 
selected Fiji as their destination, having designs on the 
King of Fiji. This swim measures on our maps about 
700 miles. Not a word is said about this greater distance 
taxing their strength; on the contrary they are reported 
as arriving all well and in no long time one of them 
marries Fiji's monarch, and the other chooses a com- 
parwon of rank. These enterprising adventuresses seem 
to live up to the old rule of the sea as to one in every 
port. 
From Fiji they swim eventually the 400 miles which 
part them from their native Savaii. Here they seem to 
settle down to a. quiet life ashore, and to lay aside all 
ambition to shine as water qtteens. The names which 
they have assumed in their swimming are retained, and 
kings and rebel chiefs and the Samoan nobility at large 
point with pride to their distinguished ancestors. Tila- 
fainga and Taema, champion distance swimmers of the 
world. Llewella Pierce Churchill. 
The Forest'and Streau is put to press each week on TuesiUy. 
Correspondence intended for publication should reach us at the 
latest by Monday and aa much earlier as practicable. 
Those Who Go Alone. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
It was with deep' interest that I read the editorial "Go- 
ing It Alone" in this week's Forest and Stream. Like a 
ray of mellow sunshine falling athwart the wings of 
memor3-, it recalls other days extending back into Forest 
AND Stream history nearly a quarter of a century. While 
Forest and Stream has steadily advanced with the 
times, yet one charming feature of the good old days is 
missing. And this can in no way be attributed to any 
fault of our journal, but, in my opinion, it is a fault of 
the times. I refer to the chronicling of outings of the 
lone camper, and to cruises of the single-hander. 
Nesmuk is dead, and apparently there are no cruises 
like that of the "Sairy Gamp" to be recorded in these 
days, and no one to tell them in Nesmuk's charming way. 
Kunhardt, too, has passed away, and since the ill-fated 
blizzard of '88, we have waited in vain for his equal as a 
writer on single-hand yachting, or yachting in general. 
In my opinion, the account of the "Cruise of the Coot" 
is the star description of small-yacht cruising ever pub- 
lished in Forest and Stream, and far ahead of an3rthing 
I have ever read in any other journal. 
In Forest and Stream of Dec. 16, 1880, page 396, in 
writing of those who cruise in parties, Seneca said: 
"The great pleasure to be derived from voj'aging wholly 
alone, depending itpon no one but yourself and your 
craft for all the comforts of life, communing with no ^ 
one but nature, and taking all sorts of weather as it 
comes with zest and enjoyment, whether good or bad, is 
a pleasure unknown to those gentlemen." I believe these 
words of Seneca to be wise. 
Then there was Kelpie, in such articles as "Outdoors." 
It seems a. matter for regret that no such accounts are 
to be had in these days. 
Then among those who may be termed the lone- 
sportsmen-landsmen, the charming pen of O. O. S. is 
gone forever. It is a matter of congratulation that Ran- 
sacker is still with us, though his articles are few and 
far between. There are other worthy ones, but they are 
getting scarce. Somehow it appeals to my notion' that 
those who do go it alone, and live for a time alone, right 
in the very heart of nature, are the ones whose very souls 
become impregnated with the essence and wisdom of 
nature. They learn her secrets in a way that is more 
vivid and lasting. And, naturally, they are the ones who 
can impart their knowledge to others in the most charm- 
ing and interesting manner. 
Can it be that the scarcity of such men, and such pens, 
is attributable to these "commerciar' times? The whirl 
and dance for the almighty dollar is getting faster and 
faster. People hardly stop to eat and sleep, and when 
there is a chance for an outing it must needs be cut short. 
It seems harder to "break away" for two weeks now than 
for two months fifteen years ago. When one's time is so 
limited, he naturally wishes to get all out of it possible. 
Therefore, the guide being the medium through which 
he can reach the best places in the quickest time, to take 
a guide and go it alone seems to me the best way under 
existing conditions. William H. Avis. 
The Barbecue. 
It may perhaps be considered quite a bold assertion 
to state that the "barbecue" in its true sense is a North 
Carolina "institution." and that the "Brunswick stew," its 
concomitant, is confined to even narrower limits. 
The summer and the early autumn, before the cotton 
ripens or the chill, which is premonitory of winter comes, 
is the time and season of the barbecue. Near some spring 
a shallow pit is dug, say 18 inches in depth and 3 feet in 
width, and of length proportioned to the number of ani- 
rnals to be barbecued. Generally the latter are medium- 
sized pigs, locally known as "shotes," but not infrequently 
little pigs, though lambs are also so cooked, and chick- 
ens are especially delicate. 
Hickory branches, well seasoned, are gathered and a 
fire made in the pit, and also one outside. Both are 
allowed co burn until only the coals remain, these being 
covered with the white and almost impalpable powder 
which forms the ashes of this particular timber. From 
the firCj near the pit, the dying embers in the latter are 
renewed, as often as necessary. The fire in the trench 
or pit must be glowing, yet not fervent, and absolutely 
smokeless. 
The animal? to be barbecued are carefully dressed and 
split wide open, then .spread-eagled by means of hickory 
sticks, reaching from foot to foot, so they will lie flat. 
The basting, or the "sop," to use a technical phrase, is 
made in a pot. and its component parts are of special 
importance, as upon their just proportion much depends. 
Vinegar if, of course, the base, and among tlie other in- 
gredients are butter, red ball pepper, black pepper and 
salt. 
The animals, properly trussed, are placed over the pit, 
the projecting ends of the sticks not only supporting them 
but also affording a most convenient means of turning 
them over. 
The genius of the occasion is the "barbecuer," who, be 
he white or black, professional or amateur, addresses him- 
self to his task and to the obligations of his great func- 
tion with as much gravity and earnestness as if he were 
Admiral Dewey at Manila. 
The meat cooks very slowly. Its turns are frequent; 
its basting incessant. Five hours are required to make 
it perfect. It is then cooked much as primitive man must 
have prepared it. The people who are to eat it are, for 
the time being, primitive men. They walk about, minus 
coats and collars, and take many an anxious look at the 
barbecuing. Their interest, their anxiety, are quite 
comparable to that of Charles Lamb's Chinaman about 
his roast pig. Savory odors fill the air. No palate, how- 
ever jaded, can remain indifferent to them. 
The preparation of the Brunswick stew has gone on 
with equal deliberation and care. In this most divine of 
stews, which would make the highest-priced French chef 
to the last degree envious, are many ingredients; the ten- 
der meat of the young squirrel; chicken, boned and 
chopped fine; butter beans, tender green corn, tomatoes. 
finely chopped cabbage, red and black pepper, Irish pota- 
toes, butter, salt and a dash of brandy. The proportions, 
like those of the sop of the barbecue, are secrets, either 
evoked in the brain and palate of the maker or else 
handed down as a tradition. 
Not a few of the people who are so lucky as to be "at 
the barbecue," take more or less frequent preliminary 
"nips" during their period of waiting, the beverages 
ranging all the way from lemonade to beer, and thence 
to the seductive mint julep. 
Few people know how to make a julep properly. Into 
a glass put some spring water, and in this stir a teaspoon- 
ful of sugar; add a nugget of ice, put in a sprig of mint, 
and after stirring it lightly so as to crush the mint serve 
that at the bottom to get its essential flavor, but leave 
the top of the sprig or sprigs unruffled; pour in rye 
whisky; stir slowly so as to mix, and let the completed 
beverage stand a moment, then drink it, through a straw — 
only because that makes it last longer. 
But to return to the barbecue. The sun is westerning 
a little; appetites are sharpened to the highest degree; 
"Line up, gentlemen, the Brunswick is ready," sings out 
the barbecuer. The Brunswick is served in bowls; the 
appetite but grows with what it feeds on. Despite the 
enormous consumption of the stew there is no lack of 
room and appreciation of the barbecue, when its turn 
comes. It is served in wooden plates, and the liberal use 
of pepper in it makes beer or lemonade precisely the 
proper beverage. 
The quantities eaten, both of Brunswick and barbecue, 
are often so great as to be well nigh fabulous. There is 
always a rattling fire of conversation; country and town 
wit shine at their brightest at a barbecue. Wide is the 
range of talk — from politics to the cotton crop — and all 
differences are made as nothing by the benign influence 
of the barbecue. At this great summer function in cen- 
tral North Carolina all men have become equal, whether 
rich or poor, and townsman and countryman vie in their 
exploits as trenchermen. 
The barbecuer and his assistants pass and repass with 
long wooden trays, or trenchers, on which are filled the 
fragrant barbecue, urging the eaters to renewed efforts, 
or, if more of the stew is desired, it is ladled out of the 
steaming pots. 
The reputation, nay, fame, of a good barbecuer goes 
near and far, nor does it end even with his death. His 
name is mentioned with tenderness at many a feast after 
his mission on earth is ended. He ranks very far above 
the common cooks, and not Soyer in France bore higher 
repute than do these professors of the noble and joyous 
art of "scorching a pig" in North Carolina. 
The barbecue is in its glory in only about half the coun- 
ties in the State ; the Brunswick stew in less than a third. 
The fame of this particular sort of cooking is carried 
near arid far by lucky mortals from other States, who 
attend these feasts, but they can only tell of their de- 
lights; they do not spread the cult of the barbecue. Its 
votaries are many; its priests but few. 
To the epicure, who partakes of barbecue, the head of 
the pig is the bonne bouche; the ribs rank next. The , 
hotter the day the cooler are these big Southern woods, 
and delightful, indeed, is the association, the comrade- 
ship of the people who gather at these woodland feasts, 
which freshen alike the body and the mind. 
Fred A. Olds. 
The Mosquito Question. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
Following on the general lines indicated by the Govern- 
ment and other officials, and by private individuals, I 
determined some weeks since to test the efficacy of oil 
vs. mosquitoes. My farm consists of some 200 acres of 
land, but of this less than half is available for experi- 
mentation. 
The central plant consists of Jarm buildings, green- 
houses, stables, chicken, duck, goose and turkey houses. 
There is water both running and standing. Two water 
barrels stand near the cold frames. Near by is a small 
concrete duck basin, and besides these are the watering 
troughs for the stock, never completely empty during the 
summer, and a pond of considerable size in the home pas- 
ture lot. This pond has no outlet. The pond is presuma- 
bly the best adapted for the hatching of the eggs and 
development of the larvai of the mosquito. All of these 
bodies of water were carefully kerosened on July 25 last. 
At the time the mosquitoes were very thick. It was noted 
that the air over and about the pond was full of "darn- 
ing needles" and "dragon flies" at the time, and the 
borders of the pond swarmed with mosquitoes. A few 
days later there were no "darning needles" or "dragon 
flies," and a remarkable dearth of mosquitoes. For more 
than ten days there existed almost complete immunity 
from the pests. 
Last evening, Aug. 12, the superintendent observed 
great activity among a flock of young ducks. They 
seemed to be bu.sy catching insects about a grating, which 
covered the opening to a large cemented cistern, long since 
disused. They were very eager in their work. Through 
curiosity, the superintendent walked over to ascertain the 
cause of the commotion. He reports that as he came 
near the opening, he saw millions of mosquitoes issuing 
from the grating. He describes it as follows: "It looked 
like a horse's tail, so thick were they — enough mosquitoes 
to make a plague over the whole State." 
In our oiling efforts we had entirely overlooked the 
old cistern, which was originally built to catch the liquid 
manure at a time when the cow stables stood near bv. 
Oil was at once resorted to, and I feel that this breeding 
house has finally and permanently lost its tenants. All 
other pest holes treated have already furnished admirable 
ocular results. As directed, through Government sugges- 
tions, we used about ounce of kerosene oil to 100 
square feet of water surface. I will report again later. 
Morton Grinnell. 
Beaver Bkook Farm, Milford, Conn , Aug 18, 
