146 FOREST > AND STREAM. IF^. 21. 1903. 
suspected game is kept illegally, a vote showed that 
the club favored such a measure. If the anti-sale law 
becomes permanent this right to search cold-storage 
warehouses is an obvious necessity. It is said the 
principal violation of the anti-sale law is by the cold- 
storage people in the cities. The anti-sale law is one 
of the wisest measures the Legislature has ever taken 
toward the replenishing of game, and it is the wish of 
all sportsmen that it be continued and enforced. 
"Two petitions were drawn up and signed by , all 
the members present, showing the sentiment of the 
club in regard to the above measure, one of which will 
be sent to the Massachusetts Game Protective Asso- 
ciation along with a check to help defray the expense 
of securing such legislation. The other petition will 
be sent to Senator Newell. Representative Garrett 
will also be informed of the club's action. The club 
voted to petition for a fish and game warden for the 
coming year. 
"The Greenfield Sportsman's Club, consisting of over 
100 members, has always been found on the right side 
of all legislation tending to propagate and replenish 
the fish and game of the State. A consignment of trout 
fingerlings and fry and Belgian hares and pheasants is 
expected in the spring. The question in regard to buy- 
ing quail for stocking local covers was discussed, but 
it was the general opinion that quail do not survive our 
winters well enough to warrant such action, and it was 
decided to direct the eflforts of the club toward propa- 
gating trout and pheasants in preference to quail. 
"If all the organizations throughout the State would 
take such action as the Greenfield Sportsman's Club 
has, both in petitioning the Legislature for wise game 
laws and contributing funds it would be of great as- 
sistance to the Massachusetts Game Protective asso- 
ciations in their good work and encourage them to do 
their best. It is for the interest of all sportsmen to 
assist in this manner as far as possible." 
Mr. Frank M. Chapman's lectures on birds, given 
under the auspices of the Massachusetts Audubon So- 
ciety in the Walker building of the Institute of Tech- 
nology, are drawing large audiences, testing to the ut- 
most the capacity of the hall. 
The Megantic annual dinner is regarded bj- sports- 
men as one of the great events of the winter season in 
Boston, and such it proved to be on Saturday. I ap- 
pend the excellent report of it contained in the Sun- 
day Herald: 
It would be a cold winter, indeed, when the Megantic 
Fish and Game Club did not have one rousing ban- 
quet, one idealized campfire, one gathering of congenial 
spirits, where a judicious mixture of "grub," other 
things, a little seriousness and a lot of funny stories 
relieved the monotony of the huntless season. They 
had it last night at the Copley Square Hotel, and as 
usual enjoyed a fine old time. 
Some 150 members assembled for the feast. The 
menu had as gamey a tinge as the laws of the State 
permitted, and the banquet hall was decorated with 
trophies of the chase and paintings of game subjects, 
among which were some fine examples from the brush 
of T. S. Steele. As is the unbroken custom, the mem- 
bers were furnished with the words of several topical 
songs of the day and sung in unison by the company. 
An orchestra and the Elmwood quartette furnished the 
music. I 
Parodies played a large part in this connection, one 
of the most successful being a version of "Mr. Dooley," 
wherein President A. W. Gleason of the club, filled 
the part of the philosophic Chicagoan, immortalized 
by Mr. Dunne. Another, entitled "On the Bowery — 
Nit," caught on, in which the beauties of Big Island 
and the Booming, places of renown in the Megantic 
Preserve, were contrasted with the famous New York 
avenue. "Sweet Rosie O'Grady" and the "Good Old 
Summer Time" furnished themes that could be twisted 
into hunting or fishing measures. 
Henry O. Stanley, of the Maine Fish and Game 
Commission, was the serious visitor. His topic was 
presented in a sad, almost apologetic vein, but urged 
on the ground of necessity — that of non-resident hunt- 
ing licenses in Maine, which the Legislature of that 
State is about to impose as a tax on sport. The pro- 
posed tax is a license costing $5 for the hunting of 
birds, $10 for birds and deer, $25 for birds, 
deer and moose. It was regrettable, but Mr. Stanley 
urged that the time had come to do something to con- 
serve the game life of the State. The proceeds, which 
were expected to be large, would be devoted to the 
protection of game, so that the money could not be said 
to be thrown away. The licenses issued would have 
coupons, which when attached to game, would insure 
the shipping of it out of the State, a privilege now 
denied. Among the things instanced by Mr. Stanley 
as compelling this move was a growing custom among 
some hunters of "driving" the game; the shooters 
placing themselves at advantageous points and having 
the game of a large district driven past them by hired 
beaters. His remarks were greeted with approving 
applause by the club members. 
James Russell Reed, president of the Massachusetts 
Fish and Game Protective Association; Dr. F. N, 
Johnson and D. J. Flanders, spoke briefly, extolling 
the hunting or the true sportsman, who, mindful of the 
rights, not only of other sportsmen, but of the 
community in general, was able to restrain his 
zeal in the forest or on the moor, deriving the 
higher rewards in health and renewed energy, while 
getting also a reasonable share of the trophies. A 
long line of the tried story-tellers of the club had their 
innings throughout the evening, and at the conclusion 
President A. W. Gleason, who is about to close a three- 
year term in office, delivered a sort of valedictory, in 
which he spoke of the pleasant recollections he would 
always cherish of his service as president of the Me- 
gantic fellowship. 
One of the interesting incidents of the evening was 
a valentine delivered for L. O. Crane, one of the direc- 
tors. Mr. Crane is a worker in club affairs, popular 
and something of a wag also. He sent a letter of sug- 
gestion to the dinner committee that was read, in which 
Jjf urged the necessity of including pork and beans 
in the menu. His letter was a philological marvel that 
defied verbatim reporting, the choice of words being 
from the long-winded columns of the dictionary. As a 
response came the valentine — a bag of four little black 
pigs, that were allowed to scamper around on the ban- 
quet table for awhile and squeak a protest, and then 
were handed over solemnly by President Gleason to the 
recipient, amid shouts of laughter from his associates. 
Central. 
Pictures No Artist Can Paint. 
There are many pictures no artist can paint upon which 
the mind dwells with never ceasing interest. In retro- 
spection the sky is filled with countless wild pigeons, and 
as we stand and gaze at the rapid flight, thousands more 
show above the tall timber beyond the clearing, and we 
wonder in our boyish way where they are all bound for, 
and why — and we wonder still. 
Then we see a sunbonnet bobbing up and down in the 
corner of the wood lot hard by the old log barn, and 
closer observation brings to view our little si.ster gather- 
ing nuts that a couple of frisky gray squirrels are shak- 
ing from the branches of a shellbark hickory in their 
efforts to gather the ripe fruit. Where are the gray squir- 
rels? Now we are following the trail of a small nocturnal 
animal down through the big slash for a mile until, with- 
out warning, it disappears between the roots of the old 
stump and burrows beneath the sunken end of a large 
sycamore. Our boyish fancy paints him in inky black- 
ness, and our spirits rise as we think of a great silver 
dollar, only to fall with a sickening thud when a stick 
twisted into his tail brings from his cozy bed of leaves a 
white skunk worth 15 cents. 
Then again we hear, in fancy, the familiar voice of old 
Piper, the big black good natured brute that loves to have 
us stroke his head and pull his long velvety ears, and we 
know from the long drawn musical note that comes wind- 
ing up the lane that he has struck a cold scent that will 
lead in all probability to a den tree, where brother 'coon 
is snoozing away the day after a night's ramble among the 
standing corn. 
Then memory carries us to Nature's broad meadows, 
v/here wild ducks rise from nearby pools and, circling 
overhead, dive into the tree tops bedecked in variegated 
colors, and are lost to view in the deep recesses that bor- 
der the river, and as we follow the trail that winds down- 
ward along the side of a ravine, then through bottom land 
to the river's brink, we are again reminded by the flapping 
of wings that we are not alone in our travels. 
Back again to the wooded land of childhood, the carry- 
ing home of the first wild turkey; then with skips and 
bounds to the deer trails in the tall cane of the swamp 
land at the source of the Wabash, and the ride homeward 
with the first buck. Then time grows apace, and we are 
drinking deep draughts of the perfumed air of the 
nc.rthern pine woods, thankful there are yet quiet nooks, 
shady dells and unpolluted streams where Nature un- 
trammeled reveals God's handiwork. Where the moving 
pictures are of flesh and blood, the background the walls 
of "God's first temples" and the scenery painted by His 
hand. Life unbounded, free, swims the placid waters, 
wings the pure air and skips on nimble feet. The noble 
buck scents danger from afar, turns like a flash and darts 
into cover. 
Pictures on memory's pages— blessed ties that bind the 
present with the past. 
Paint me a picture, artist! 
Of scenes where memory dwells. 
Of tarns and fells. 
Of shady dells. 
And the wild life sheltered there. 
Paint me a picture, artist! 
A copy from Nature's mold, 
Of heat and cold, 
Of heath and wold, 
And the soughing sounds I hear. 
Paint me a picture, artist! 
A copy from Nature's art. 
Of the look and start, 
The plunge and dart, 
Of the wily white-tail deer. 
Paint me a picture, artist! 
Of tracks in yielding sand. 
With a master brand, 
On barren land. 
Paint the trail of a white-tail deer. 
Paint me a picture, artist! 
Of the trail through rain and fog; 
Where he leaped this log, 
And crossed that bog, 
Paint the trail of this white-tail deer. 
Paint me a picture, artist! 
Of a tangle of birch and thorn, 
Which, rent and torn 
By his massive horn, 
Marks the trail of a white-tail deer. 
Paint me a picture, artist! 
Of a tramp in the falling snow; 
As with cheeks aglow 
I pant and blow 
On the trail of a white-tail deer. 
Paint me a picture, artist! 
As he ever onward flees; 
With his nose to the breeze 
Till lost mid the trees, 
Paint the trail of this white-tail deer. 
Paint me a picture, artist! 
Of a long and wearisome tramp 
• Back to the camp 
Through the cold and damp. 
From the trail of a white-tail deer. 
Paint me a picture, artist! 
Of the moments as they fly. 
While with beck and sigh 
I bid good-by 
To the woods and the white-tail deer. 
G. W, Cunningham. 
I Game Parks and Other Things^ I 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
I am an admirer of the literary products of Didymus. 
He writes with much elegance and is always sound; that 
is, most always. 
His communication under the caption of "Game Parks 
and Other Things" in Forest and Stream of February 7, 
is the exception, and a robust, well developed exception 
it is. It has in it a mild smattering of socialistic and 
anarchistic principles, interwoven with a false scream of 
the national bird, the American eagle, all as premises for 
his conclusions, which really are a protest against Ameri- 
can liberty and the sacred rights of titles in property — 
that is, other people's property. 
Let us investigate his points more particularly, if your 
patience will permit of it, Mr. Editor. He begins thus: 
"We Americans used to think the common people of Eng- 
land were trampled down to the condition of slaves by 
the lordly landed aristocracy, but what are we Americans 
coming to in these days of selfish millionaires?" 
Bless us, isn't that comprehensive?* 
"We Americans !" 
Who are "we Americans" but the same "common 
people" of England, and several other common peoples 
from several other countries other than England, who 
ceased being "common people" just as soon as the op- 
portunity presented itself to attain that distinction? Even 
common people are unlike in thought and property. I 
have never observed any passionate ambition on the part 
of the common people of England or America, be they 
common people high or low, to remain common a moment 
longer than the exigencies of the case imposed. 
However, I feel certain that the common people of Eng- 
land used to think we had some actual slaves in this coun- 
try. They were right. We had them. A distinction and 
a difference. 
"We Americans !" How "we Americans" abhor the 
thought of becoming millionaires! Aye, "selfish million- 
aires," for they are the only people who are selfish ! How 
Didymus and I would spurn a million, or the opportunity 
to acquire it ! Yes, we would. 
"We Americans," lovers of the common people a long 
distance away in England or other foreign clime, bitter 
haters of millionaires who buy more land than we own, 
admirers of common people who sell land for many times 
its value to the despised millionaire, do we not detest land 
owners after we have sold our lands and thereby abetted a 
"landed aristocracy?" Ahem! Certainly! Certainly! 
Our detestation is hereditary. 
Our sires and our grandsires also had that hereditary 
abhorrence of other people owning too much land and 
clher things. When the Pilgrims landed on American 
soil, purposing to escape the tyranny of the "lordly landed 
aristocracy" of England, they had within their breasts 
the noble, white-hot and sacred principles so ably set 
forth b}^ Didymus, friend of the downtrodden. 
On American soil the Pilgrims found the same abhor- 
rent conditions which they had suffered from in England. 
The selfish other fellow, a red man, owned the land. 
What rank injustice! Alas, is not the other fellow 
always selfish? Gracious, yes! 
The Indian, the noble red man, was quite common peo- 
ple, with a tendency to selfishness withal in titles pertain- 
ing to land ; indeed, he was quite as offensive on this point 
as the "lordly landed aristocracy" of England, inasmuch 
as, notwithstanding his commonness, he held a monopoly 
of the land to the explqsion of the landless Pilgrim people 
recently arrived. This was, to people of acute sense of 
equity, an intolerable condition of affairs. It was con- 
trary to the way "we Americans," in the persons of the 
Pilgrims, were trained to think, so "we Americans" forth- 
with took steps to remedy the evil which had grown to 
such direful dimensions before our arrival. 
A "lordly landed aristocracy" when red in color is quite 
as oppressive as when it is white, but it is far less danger- 
out to rob it, it being both ignorant and defenseless. The 
common people, distinguished by owning no land, have 
then a much better chance to convince the unarmed other 
fellow, who owns the land, that his selfishness is a public 
calamity, and therefore must be abated. Can you guess 
how to do it? 
Yes, "we Americans" stole the Indians' corn, killed 
them off in various ways, direct and indirect, and took 
their land to the extent of what now constitutes the 
United States, excepting the vast southwestern area taken 
from an empire called Mexico, which had become too 
lordly and selfish, yet too weak to remain intact in matters 
of real estate. That area is now known as the Mexican 
cession and the Texas annexation territory, in the 
acquisition of which rifles and knives were not unim- 
portant factors. "We Americans" own it all now. 
Our school histories deal with much length, unction and 
figurative rolling of eyes concerning the treachery and 
b.'^i.dness of the Indian, for he was so selfish as to fight for 
his home and country; but he used bow and arrow while 
"we Americans" used rifle and bullet, and that difference 
made the Indian a savage, fighting for land which "we 
Americans" wanted unselfishly; fighting for a fireside 
which could have no tender ties because the ownpr of it 
had a red skin! 
It may be mentioned that to reduce the offensiveness 
of landed aristocracy still further, "we Americans" in 
1803 acquired possession of a vast area west of the 
Mississippi River, called the Louisiana Purchase, for 
$15,000,000. We did not inquire much into the matter of 
title, and the Indians who inhabited that area now inhabit 
it no more to any great extent. "We Americans" own 
all that land now. 
"We Americans" set some strange examples of unsel- 
fishness as common people ourselves and for other com- 
m.on people, also, if we accept the views of Didymus on 
the subject as correct. 
I desire to ask Didymus, humbly and respectfully, by 
what right or by what authority he arrogates to himself 
the position to speak publicly as "we Americans?" Does 
he imagine that when he says "we Americans" it is really 
America which speaks? 
Does he realize that the institutions against which he 
so vehemently inveighs are American which "we Ameri- 
cans" have built up so quickly and so grandly that they 
are a world wonder? Does he realize that millionaires 
are a product of America's unlimited resources governed 
by American ideas? Does he realize that millionaires 
are "we Americans," too, asiA that they hav« done muqjj 
