Juke 13, 1003.] 
FOREST AND STREAM 
467 
the fence and were not thirty feet away, and distinctly 
seen in the afterglow of sunset by three persons, trout 
fishermen, whose special attention was called to the fact 
that the female was calling, and that the male did not 
call. No male bird, while actually seen by me, has sung 
the "whippoorwill." 
Yet nearly all the poets attribute the song to the male 
bird. Thus, Bliss Caiunan: 
r 
"And the lone wood-tird, harkt 
The whippoorwill, night long, 
Threshing the sylvan dark 
With his dim flail oi song." 
He mistakes the songster's sex, but avoids the error 
that the song is sad. And here is a double error in two 
consecutive words of a couplet by T. B. Read: 
"And there the whippoorwill recites 
The ballad of his grief." 
>ll * 5js * * ♦ * 
In the forest high up on Mount Minsi, four boys from 
the Glenwood House spend their mornings, looking! In 
the afternoons they read to each other what they have 
placed in their note-books, and exhibit their gathered 
specimens of mosses, ferns and lichens. This is good 
cultivation of sight. I was directed by them to one spot 
in that wood during the spring, before the present trip. 
Readers are warned that I shall attempt to describe it, 
and can skip the next paragraphs if desired. But I ask 
the earnest readers to go in there alone. 
You will see the brilliant May sunshine flooding the 
open spaces, the gray haze and tangle of wildwood, and 
the leaf-shadows dancing over the profusion of mosses, 
ferns and flowers. . 
Seat yourself on this knoll that is matted over with 
red and brown moss, and sandaled with the fast-fading 
flowers of the adder-tongue. You are with perennial 
nature, among the mottled patches of shadow and sun- 
light, under the great trees where, last night, the whip- 
poorwills sang their "amorous descant." Distant drum- 
ming of a partridge, scolding disapproval of squirrels, 
chirp of the curious chickadees, call of robins and blue- 
birds! Below you, not a hundred feet away, is the 
river whose voice comes to you, while its unseen pres- 
ence is hinted at by the dancing reflections in a dozen 
places, of the light from its waters on the beech leafage. 
And now, look more closely. It is a veritable floral 
paradise, loveliest realism, something to be rapturously 
studied and earnestly loved! 
The base of this knoll is wreathed by a dark green 
cushion of wild strawberry leaves, thickly starred with 
their own white blossoms. Joined to them is the 
brown, far-spreading carpet of fallen autumn leaves that 
are a bed for the uprearing blossoms. A few of the 
pale-blue flowers of the forget-me-not, emblem of fidel- 
ity! To the right, becoming lost in the mystery of 
shadows and green confusion, are thousands of -wild 
violets, their blue and yellow flowrets full of intense 
color and life. That little ridge to the left is matted 
with wintergreens. their scarlet berries peeping out 
from the emerald leaves. In front, wild lilies lift their 
flowered heads. The hill above you is white and pink 
whh laurel blooms, and the great flowers of the rhodo- 
dendron. 
"Their sides embroidered boast the rich array 
Of flowering shrubs in all the pride of May." 
And yonder are two slopes exquisite with fragrant 
blossoms of wild honeysuckle and trailing arbutus. 
Beautiful? The separate parts of this little landscape 
are delightful; the whole is entrancing! The perfumes, 
colors and sounds are indescribably joyous and grateful 
to one who sees and lovinglj' appreciates them in their 
own spring home; and to the worn worker from the 
city, they are inefifable in the beneficence of their de- 
lights and memories. You will actually find all these 
beauties there; but remember, they must be sought and 
admired in May. Other beauties demand our atten- 
tion when summer broods over the Delaware at the 
Gap. 
He who in humble sincerity attempts to tell of such 
scenes, is no longer styled a rhapsodist; and one who 
"sloshes 'round i' the woods" is not presumably a "no 
'caount cha.p." Our publishers and librarians say that 
the demand for nature books is multiplying, and now 
stands next to that for fiction. 
It is a temptation, as I look at mounted specimens 
of mosses, ferns and lichens, to furnish pictures here 
of some of them, with extended mention in the text. 
But these beautiful nature-forms belong far more to the 
domain of the naturalist than of the sportsman. Be- 
sides, real opportunity to study them has been well- 
nigh drowned in an ocean of almost meaningless Latin 
terminology — the "scientific" dead-language nomencla- 
ture of the dry-rot specialists. Almost all the books 
aboitt ferns, lichens and mosses, are little more than 
lists and plates, works by mere cataloguers, and not 
by the real lover of nature. This is also largely true 
of the books about butterflies and bugs. 
There is a low reach of gravelly stones and marine 
plants just where the Analomink stream flows into 
the Delaware, about a mile above the Gap. There the 
angler searches for helgralnites for bait. There, and 
especially in the sideflow of a portion of the river to 
form the island above, are very numerous examples 
of marine vegetation and water algae. Here is a pic- 
ture of one I took from that stretch of water along the 
island where shoals swarm with these plants. It is 
just natural size, photographed from the mounted speci- 
men. Observe its exquisite fineness and minute rami- 
fication, and remember that this is only one of a thou- 
sand well-known marine growths along the Delaware. 
Waving plumes, trailing locks of green from sub- 
merged log and brown rock! Leaves happy below the 
surface of the water! Spires of green, pink, yellow and 
golden red, gleaming and oscillating in the water- 
breeze, just as their air-cousins flutter and oscillate in 
the air-breeze. Forms like jeweled necklaces, sun- 
bursts and butterflies spring into being under the 
microscope. We become so interested that we obtain 
and search the books, notably Wolle's "'Fresh- Water 
Algas." and we find and recognize the growth shown 
in the picture herewith (Plate 66^ figs, i and 2), and 
learn that this lovely and almost unknown and wild 
growth is called Tu(meya Auviatilis. Horrors! 
Not content with merely building these Latin fences 
around our innocent water-growths, the "writers" 
about them proceed to discourage the student with in- 
tensely technical descriptions. For example, we find, 
by use of the water-net and microscope, that a certain 
lovely specimen of the water-algsc, starred with ex- 
quisite colors and topaz-like ellipses, is called the 
Oedogonium- hystix. (See the 2,300 colored pictures 
of American Fresh- Water Algse, as given by Wolle, and 
the picture of this one, plates, Vol. 2, page 84, fig. 8.) 
Now, observe how this poor little thing has been 
abused and crucified in its description: 
"Gj'nandrosporous, or idio-androsporous; Oogonia- 
single, ellipsecl to globous ellipsoid, opening by a pore 
in the middle; Oospore, same form as oogonium, near- 
ly filling it, coated with sublulated spines; androspo- 
rangia, 2-3 celled; terminal cell obtuse, dwarf male 
stipe, 2-celled, moderately curved, seated on the sup- 
porting cell, spermogomum, i-celled." 
This seems to be the result of following the pedantry 
of the Russian and German writers on the subject. 
Wolle cites over two hundred authors. It is pitiful 
that this most interesting nature-world has been shut 
away from popular interest and study by writers in- 
capable of doing more than making examination of the 
specimens, microscopic and otherwise. Their names 
for these children of the fresh water are hideous. Here 
are two more: 
Chroococcaceze. 
Chlorophyllophyceas. 
Meaningless, except to the "expert," jumbles of 
orthography, a lock and bar to the student who cannot 
! 
^- -•-i£xs^S^m&. ■ . ^ -j 
OELAWAPE RIVER ALG.«. 
spend years in mastering the outlandish technical 
terms, and learning the by-ways of their labyrinths! 
When I come to write, in this series, of the Indian 
history and legend of the Delaware, I shall give some 
of the words of the Lenape language, and among them 
their word for marriage, viz: 
"Witathpungkewiwuladtpoagan." 
Marriage was, of course, of tremendous import to 
them,- and they can hardly be laughed at for using a 
long word for it. But suppose they had, instead, seen fit to 
name marriage with a word four times longer yet, and 
in a language known to them as "dead." Would we not 
have smiled at their terms still more? Yet we find in 
a glass of Delaware River water, as we hold it up in 
the sunlight for observation, some organism so minute 
as to be practically invisible until we put it under the 
microscope; and instead of naming it in our good Eng- 
lish, and describing it in terms to be understood by the 
masses, we choose to label it with a name in a dead 
lang^uage, and two thousand times longer than the atom 
it is supposed to describe. L. F. Brown. 
TfOttt in Fofest Fires. 
Elizabethtown, N. Y., June 6. — Editor Forest and 
Stream: Wednesday afternoon, June 3, forest fire swept 
over the Euba Mills or southern section of this town 
with the besom of destruction, destroying the old saw 
mill, the mill house and J. F. Burres' farm-house and 
contents. Henry Proctor and family lived in the old mill 
house, and lost practically all their belongings. John B. 
Burnham, a well-known Forest and Stream contributor, 
had some hunting utensils stored at Mr. Proctor's that 
were destroyed. The fire raged so fiercely that it burned 
the heavy timbers in the mill danl and drained the water 
out of the mill pond. 
Friday after the fire hundreds of brown trout were 
found dead along the Boquet River between the site of 
the mill dam and Hunter's Home, a distance of two miles. 
These trout would weigh from 2 ounces up to 2 pounds 
apiece; 95 dead trout were brought to this village and 
weighed, tipping the scales at 40 pounds. Curiously 
enough, only four speckled trout were found dead, while 
hundreds of the brown ones were easily located and 
picked up. A 2-pound brown trout was brought to this 
village. Another 2-pound trout, not quite dead wlaen 
picked up. was put into a spring at Hunter's Home and 
revived. Query: What killed the trout — extreme heat, 
lye, oil, lime or fright? George L, Brown. 
Florida Fish Commission* 
The new Florida Fish Commission consists of John Y. 
Detwiler, John G, Ruge and C. R. Walker. 
Fishing Memories. 
"I jes set here a-dreamin' — 
A-dreamin' every day — 
Of the sunshine that's a-gleamin' 
On the rivers far away. 
"An' I kinder fall to wishin' i 
I was where the waters swish, 
Fer if the Lord made fishin', 
Why, a feller orter fish." 
Humming the last stanza, the afternoon of the 14th of 
May, found me alone, taking a hot dusty ride of twelve 
miles for Marshall, where I took the train for River- 
ton. 
The open season in the Shenandoah is the 15th of May, 
and I have made it a rule for years past to break the 
business chain for a day or two, at least, and be there 
on the evening of the 14th for a try at the fighters (and 
the bass in that stream deserve the name) on the isth. 
My engagements were made or broken, accordingly, and 
my experience is that for a busy man who especially 
wants to go fishing or hunting, one always has to break 
more engagements than he can make. I had the promise 
of a fishing companion — but then John Keith could not 
get a diploma for always keeping an engagement — so on 
the day I was to start he disappointed me. Well, in this 
case there may have been a valid excuse, for it is said 
that before the month is out he proposes to consummate 
an "engagement" far more important than going a-fishing 
—and but few things can be more important to a true 
fisherman. My first impulse was to "rule" him and fol- 
low this with an "attachment," calling for the produc- 
tion of his body, but rumor has it that one of Warren- 
ton's fairest belles had preceded me, and that that "at- 
tachment" took precedence over any that I might have 
issued, so I could do nothing but forgive him. I hope, 
however, he will not disappoint me again. 
The morning before I started, I had sent two men out 
with my seine for "mad-toms," and my disgust can be 
imagined when, after four hours, they returned with six 
minnows, only four of which were alive. I have won- 
dered what those fellows were doing all that time. 
Disappointed as I was, fish I must, and take chances of 
getting bait at Riverton. I reached Riverton in good 
time, where I w'as welcomed by my friends, Wilkins, the 
agent of the Southern at that point, and Sam Duncan, a 
genial fellow, who is not only running the principal store 
and livery in that town, but is also the present proprietor 
of the hotel at that point, ably assisted by his sisters. 
The waters in the two rivers — the North and South 
Branches fork here — were very clear, but from all I could 
learn, the indications for good fishing were better than 
usual. My boatman, Frank, while fishing for minnows 
that evening, had forced the season by catching seven. I 
found side-tracked at that point the private car of Super- 
intendent Choate, of the Southern, a relative of your dis- 
tinguished townsman by that name, whq was stopping 
over for a few hours' fishing the next morning, having 
brought with him his wife, mother and some other ladies. 
While I was informed that he had had no experience in 
that line, yet I knew that as Wilkins had him in charge 
he would have luck, even if his time was limited, if any 
bass were in the river. Fie did get eight that morning, 
and I am told was well pleased with his new experience— 
and who isn't, I would like to know? For if there is any- 
thing that will make one feel young again — that he is 
"glad he is living" — that thing is to hear the click of the 
reel, to feel that you have him when at the proper time 
you put the hook home, see the bass as he leaps from the 
water, then his mad rushes for liberty and — but why 
enumerate? You all know how it is— that is, those 
who have "been there," and if you have not, my advice is 
to go and try for yourself as soon as you possibly can. 
But I wonder what grudge friend Wilkins has against 
his superintendent, for he had him up and out about three 
o'clock that morning. I have gotten to that age and stage 
where I am not a great believer in too early fishing for 
bass ; but I couldn't sleep ; in fact, I believe I dreamed 
of bass; so at four I was out and calling for Duncan, 
who had promised to go out with me. I have fished all 
these waters time and again, and my first try in the 
morning is usually from the abutment of Kenner's mill, 
just below the dam on the North Fork, less than 200 
yards from the hotel ; so there we went. But while we 
fished industriously till breakfast, four fish — two apiece — 
were all we had to show. Getting breakfast and getting 
some minnows from the boatman, we took a boat and had 
fair luck until dinner, when Duncan was called away by 
business. After dinner I went with the boatman alone. 
I remembered having seen several nice bass in the clear 
water just opposite the limekiln, which would not bite, 
as I took it, because they saw us too plainly as we cast 
toward them. So I told Frank to put the end of the boat 
on a jutting rock which showed in the river just above 
where I had seen these fish, and he did so. My minnow 
had hardly touched the water before I had a strike and 
landed a nice fish. Stringing him alongside of the boat, 
I remarked that perhaps I could do the same thing again, 
and, quicker than it takes to tell, another made a rush 
for my bait, and soon he kept company with the first. 
All my fishing was done between Kenner's dam and the 
junction of the two rivers, possibly three- fourths of a 
mile, and at night I had thirteen, Duncan five. No big 
catch, you will say, but for all that the day was a most 
enjoyable one; the weather fine, all the surroundings 
pleasant, business forgotten, every now and then a bas.s — 
what more could one wish for or ask? Hard, indeed, 
must one be to be pleased if he would not have been satis- 
fied on such a day, in sueh a place, and with the music 
of the reel combined with the singing of the birds and 
the falling waters to keep him company. 
But what of to-morrow? I did not intend to leave until 
the evening train on Saturday, yet bait was scarce. Early 
the next morning the boatman and I were again at Ken- 
ner's dam, and as I failed to get a strike, I rigged up a 
minnow line from my fishing grip, using for a line a por- 
tion of No. 40 Barbour's thread, a spool of which I al- 
ways carry along with me, and, pray, what is it that a 
fisherman won't collect among his fishing things after a 
good many years' experience?— and it was not long be- 
fore Frank, to my surprise and gratification, caught some 
twenty odd minnows. Getting breakfast we again started, 
