202 
FOREST AND STREAM, 
[Sept. 13, igm. 
Beyond the Long Divide. 
Beyond the long divide what valleys lie 
Elysian ? Say ! does the fair, blue sky 
Shine there as here, ori flowery meads, 
Where singing streams make music night and day, 
Where, all about, the fragrant zephyrs play 
^olian strains, and whither fancy leads 
We wander, care-free, happy, side by side. 
Friend close to friend, beyond the long divide? 
Beyond the long divide ! Is it desert drear 
Where we must penance do for all that here 
Was done amiss ; where, amid ashes and the graj', 
* Unburied past, drives unrelenting Fate, 
'Til full atonement's made, be it soon or late? 
Is it joyless gloom, where breaks no radiant day 
To give us hope, and bitter memories glide 
Like shadows just beyond the long divide? 
Beyond the long divide ! Is it endless rest, 
Where tired, disappointed with earth's quest, 
We lay life's burden down and sleep 
Dreamless, iinwaking sleep, pleasure and pain 
Unknown: sleep on our mother's breast again? 
So slept we years agone, long ere we crosed the deep 
Unfathomed ocean, from whose hither tide 
The pa'th leads upward, toward the long divide. 
Shoshone. 
Memories that Endure. 
I AM well up the divide if not at its top. The years 
which intervene from boyhood have brought vicissi- 
tudes more or less common to all. While later experi- 
ences grow dim, earlier ones take on a roseate hue. To 
have forgottetn that we were once a boy is to have lost 
from life's history its brightest page. Nature kindly 
paints out the tragic of that early time and retouches in 
brighter colors its pleasant xecollections. The old farm- 
house in which I was born, built by my grandfather, at 
a time when western Pennsylvania was an almost un- 
broken forest, with its front "stoop," big brick chimney, 
large, small-paned windows, cavernous cellar and stair- 
way with a jog, roomy, sunny, cheerful with voices, whir 
of wheel and chuck of loom, a veritable beehive of indus- 
try and contentment; it rises before me as clear and dis- 
tinct as the house across the street from where I now sit. 
The stories related by my grandfather and grandmother 
of their pioneer life, early instilled into my mind the 
love of the gun and "fish pole." My father was a good 
shot with the rifle and frequently brought home deer, 
turkey and lesser game. Often he would let me shoot 
while too young to hold a gun, but would \z.y it across 
a log or stump and explain to me how to bring the 
sights into range with the object shot at. With great 
pride I once poked a hole through his hat which he said 
I could not hit, From him, also, I learned to catch the 
"speckled beauty." The greatest fun, however, began 
when I was able to manipulate the gun and "pole," 
"all by myself." This combination of gun and pole 
sometimes brought disaster upon myself and an older 
brother, but who could remember when to go home 
when in the woods or along a creek hot after "chip- 
muck" or chub? 
When first the possessor of a fish hne, it was one 
made (not exactly to order) by my mother. The 
flax was grown, rotted, broken, skutched and hetcheled 
by my father and spun double and twisted by my mother. 
When she gave it to me with a kiss and good wishes for 
my success, do you think I was not happy nor proiid of 
mother? Alas! she died before I could fully realize what 
her loss was to me. They laid her to rest on a sunny 
slope that overlooks the blue waters of Lake Erie. 
The line was smooth and strong, made upon honor. 
My hook was not as fine as you can buy to-day, but if 
well 3'anked, it brought out the fish all right. Araiied 
with hook and line, together with a bottle of wriggling 
"first principles" and gathering up an older brother, and 
Washington, and Marcus, and Steve, cousins, and old 
Porter, the dog. it was but a short half mile to a thicket 
of young birch sprouts, where we provided ourselves 
with poles, having borrowed father's jack knife for the 
purpose. Here happened one of those annoying inci- 
dents which mark epochs, perhaps, but which, from the 
very nature of boys ought not to happen at all. That 
knife was lost. Thanks to an inscrutable Providence, we 
did not know it though at the time. 
No gray-headed fisherman ever looked over his Hor- 
tons, his Henshalls or his Leonards with keener criti- 
cism or delight than the boy who picks his "fish-pole" 
from the lusty thicket provided by kindly Nature ready 
to his hand. Every sense is alert. No haste in his step 
nor excitement warps his judgment. Dignity and de- 
liberation mark every stage of the operation as they 
should every important undertaking. The eye takes in 
a half hundred at a glance, to be discarded one by one 
until a suitable one is chosen. To cut, trim and attach 
the line and hook is but the work of a moment. En- 
thusiasm grows apace as the judgment of each is com- 
mended or disparaged In his choice, and an indescribable 
joy suffuses the whole being as each reaches the con- 
clusion that his is best. It is quickly decided that Mil- 
ler's Pond is the place to go. Years before a log dam 
had been built across a stream which ran at the bottom 
of a deep gully. The dam extended from bank to bank 
a hundred feet perhaps, and from 12 to 15 feet high. 
Many dead trees yet stood in the water and gave to the 
place rather a dreary appearance. Logs projected into 
the water from either side, and on the west side the 
water grew deep rapidly, the east side being much shal- 
lower, 
The water had washed the soil from around the roots 
of many trees which stood along the banks and formed 
in boy parlance "good holes." Just below the dam were 
deep pools in which lived and flourished much larger 
trout than we ever took out. 
Therein, perhaps, lay the charm of it. I do not know 
how our method of fishing ever originated. I reckon, 
like Topsy, it "just growed." If, as, in the present in- 
stance, we were to fish at the pond, each had his allotted 
"holes," and no one "poached on his preserves." It 
seemed to be a fair arrangement then, and still seems 
so. If two or more fished a strearn, we fished down. 
Each took a position and fished it until those up stream 
had all passed, when he went beldw all to the next hole. 
When you passed from up to down, you could hold 
whispered consultations with each boy of your crowd, 
and thus keep in touch with all the fun going. 
I have fished many streams, rivers and lakes since, 
but never with a keener delight. From the dam for a 
couple of miles down stream was known as Turner's 
Gulf. The water was clear, cool and rapid, lying oc- 
casionally in a deep pool, but more often dashing over 
stones or submerged roots and logs. It was an ideal 
place for brook trout. A few special places existed 
where the whoppers lived, and he to whom these fell as 
his portion, was happy indeed. The banks were steep, 
covered mostly with fallen trees and grown up with 
blackberry and" native bushes. Occasionally the stream 
would run through a bit of pasture, where the under- 
growth would be eaten off, and here and there an elm, 
beech or birch would cast a grateful shade, sought alike 
by drowsy cattle or weary man. A few shiny, slanting 
hemlock logs lay along the banks, where in spring and 
early summer time the partridge beat the long roll or 
wooed his mate lovingly. 
Two years ago I visited for the only time in many 
years the well remembered spots along Turner's Gulf. 
They came nearer being as I held them in mind than 
anything else in the whole township. So 'many things 
were dwarfed; the hills were not so steep nor high; the 
woods were much less; the fields were smaller; the ac- 
quaintances were mostly dead or gone, but Turner's 
Gulf brought back the scenes and incidents of boyhood 
these fifty years gone by. W. 
More About Sport. 
East Wareham, Mass., Sept. 4. — Editor Forest and 
Stream: Reading in the last issue of your paper "The 
Nature of Sport," by Coahoma, I must take an exception 
to his remarks on "Uncle" Daniel. Noah Webster is 
the author he had in mind. Daniel ranged all through 
these parts, and his ideas in regard to sport were sound. 
Noah, from all accounts, pursued his hunting among the 
classics, chasing derivations and synonyms through old 
lexicons and rounding up obsolete words in the ti.mes of 
Chaucer, Milton, Shakespeare and others of that ilk. 
There are no records of his prowess in other fields. 
Darfiel, on the contrary, while well posted in bookish 
lore, would have been a competent judge to decide any 
questions relating to the sports of his day. 
As the essence of hunting is the matching of wits and 
skill against the same qualities in the game, its satisfac- 
tion is merged in one of two ends, either capturing the 
game alive, or securing it dead. Civilization advances, 
and men grow less savage for the reason that the im- 
plernents of destruction have been so perfected, that the 
qualities which hunting demanded in a previous age are 
but little required now. When men hunted to kill, 
sport was a very secondary consideration, as the arts 
advanced it became possible to develop a certain skill 
not dependent on superior physical endurance. Even as 
late as the middle of the eighteenth century we read of 
huntsmen riding out on a "sausage cart," which was 
simply a log of sufficient length, on which the men sat 
astride, the whole thing mounted on four wheels, and 
drawn by as many horses as was necessary to keep it 
going at a gallop. 
In the days of archery it took more courage and 
skill to kill an elk, boar or bison than now. The match- 
locks and arquebuses were not much better as weapons, 
but the flintlock was a decided improvement, and the 
sportsman of to-day, with his magazine gun, is as far 
ahead of his predecessors with the bow as the astrono- 
mer of to-day with his 36-inch object glass is ahead of 
the observer who sat on the great pyramid and viewed 
the heavens with naked eyes. 
This great improvement in arms has changed about 
the conditions of sport entirely; to-day it has no connec- 
tion with necessity or economy; therefore, the death of an 
object pursued is often regrettable. The saving of the 
flesh of game is frequently only a sop to a conscience that 
will stir when life is taken. 
As no mechanical contrivance requires anything more 
than mechanical skill to reduce to possession,' it is doubt- 
ful if any inventions will ever take the place of live game 
as a stimuliis for pursuit while game lasts. But, as the 
population increases and game grows rapidly less, it is 
evident that "sports" will gather and draw mankind to 
scenes where death is no factor. 
The man who has but two weeks in a year for relaxa- 
tion and who inherits a love for huntmg, may well be 
permitted to hang an elk or moose head on his wall — 
he will not want manj' — much better he go and and get 
it than buy. 
In a certain great house years ago a mighty elk head 
and horns served as a hat rack. How many who paused 
before that head while adjusting their own headgear 
on one of its many points, ever thought of it as senti- 
ment? It cost its owner $50 when such trophies were 
much rarer in houses and plentier in forests than now. 
Had the owner shot it himself he would have looked 
at it with pleasure all his life, would have had a good 
story to tell— well might people doff their hats before 
it then. 
Who shall say that whaling is not sport? Or that a 
whaler is not a sportsman? He hunts the biggest game 
known; the pursuit requires the utmost perseverance, 
coolness and judgment, and affords a spice of danger by 
no means insignificant. 
Gentlemen, the shield has two sides. You are both 
right ftpd all right, Walter B. Savarv, 
The Eskimos^of^lLabrador."' 
Number 4 of Volume III of the Bulletin of the Geo- 
graphical Society of Philadelphia, which has just reached 
us, is devoted to an interesting report of the Brown- 
Harvard expedition to Nachvak. Labrador, in the year 
1900. The report is written by Dr. E. B. Delabarre, of 
Brown University. Like all the publications of the 
Philadelphia Geographical Society, it is handsomely 
brought out. It is ornamented with many illustrations 
of Labrador scenes, and covers not far from 150 pages; 
gives an outline of the voyage from day to day, a sum- 
mary of the trip, with its meteorological conditions, an 
account of an overland trip from Hebron to Nachvak, 
of Nachvak Bay and the ascent of Mount Faunce, chap- 
ters on the scenery of the Atlantic Coast of Labrador, 
its life, the scientific results of the expedition, with re- 
ports on botany, ornithology and geology. 
The report on ornithology is a very briefly annotated 
list of 79 species, and this list appears in somewhat more 
extended form in the "Auk" for January, 1902. 
Outside of the itinerary, the report is devoted chiefly 
to botanical, geological and mineralogical features. Lit- 
tle is said about the bird life, and practically nothing 
about the mammalian life of the region. There is. how- 
ever, an attractive reference to the people inhabiting 
the country. We give below some remarks on the pres- 
ent condition of the Eskimo there. 
In this report there is abundant information which 
will be useful to persons visiting the Labrador coast. 
To all such it may be warmly recommended. The ac- 
count of the Labrador Eskimo is as follows: 
A thousand miles or more of desolate seacoast stretch 
from St. John's, in Newfoundland, to Nachvak, near the 
northern end of Labrador. In the summer time it is 
crowded with fishing schooners, whose crews toil la- 
boriously for their scanty winter supplies. But in the 
winter, except for a few widely separated and lonely set- 
tlements of hardy natives and whites, it is inaccessible, 
and given over to the undisputed sway of ice and snow. 
The visitor to these shores finds much to interest him. 
If he be a lover of nature, he will find few more beauti- 
ful and attractive regions than this, with its irregular 
coastline, diversified by rocky hills, imposing cliffs, and 
island-dotted bays; with its many-hued Arctic vegeta- 
tion; and in the north with its deep fiords and huge 
mountain masses. If he be a scientist, its plants, its 
geological formation and history, its animal life, will 
give him plentiful opportunity for study and new discov- 
ery. The sportsman will revel in brooks teeming with 
trout, or may haply discover big game worthy of his 
rifle. The mere traveler, seeking new sights and ad- 
ventures, will come away enthusiastic over the novel- 
ties of a summer in the far north, where numberless 
icebergs, a brilliantly phosphorescent sea, a sky often 
alive with wonderful quivering displays of auroral light, 
a season of continuous autumnal comfort, and the 
strange, impressive landscapes of a sub-arctic country, 
have given him a bountiful reward for his journey. 
Yet, after all, wherever one may go, it is the human 
life, with its varieties and occupations, its differences 
from ourselves, its triumphs, vicissitudes and problem: 
that furnishes the study of most absorbing interest. This 
is certainly true of Labrador. Simple, rugged and primi- 
tive, like the land they live in, its people present features 
of mterest alike to the psychologist, the anthropologist, 
the student of social economy and conditions — and nat- 
urally,_ also, to the practical philanthropist. 
Eskirnos.— Of the aboriginal inhabitants, aside from 
tlie Indians of the southerly interior, there are now only 
about a thousand Eskimos along the Atlantic Coast. 
From Hopedale southward most of them are of mixed 
blood; but north of there they are said to be almost 
entirely pure blooded. We met them frequently north of 
Hopedale. Their present southern limit is Hamilton 
Inlet, though in former times they are reported to have 
spread as far south as Massachusetts. They swarmed 
over our schooner, peering curiously into all its recesses, 
and offering their simple possessions in exchange for 
tobacco and clothing; and we met many of them in their 
villages on shore. We find them here not in their 
origmal crude condition, but greatly modified in dress, 
manners and customs by their long contact with white 
men. The Moravians sent missionaries to these coasts 
more than a century and a quarter ago. In consequence, 
the Eskimos who have come under their influence have 
adopted many features of civilized dress, implements and 
beliefs. It is only further north or west than we pene- 
trated that we find them unchanged. 
The men look strong and sturdy. They are rather 
short, seeming to average about five feet and a half*. 
Their heads are very long from front to back, as com- 
pared with their breadth; the cephalic index, according 
to the anthropologists, averages about 75. Their faces 
are broad and round, with projecting cheek bones and 
prominent processes at the upper end of the jaw. They 
are usually very fat. The jaws, or at least the lips, are 
very apt to be rather protuberant. The eyes are nar- 
row. The forehead, usually covered over with hair is 
of medium height. The hair is straight and jet black, 
except in the case of the old men, and is worn long, cut 
off straight below the ears and just above the eyes; 
though some of the younger men wear it close-cut! 
The beards are very thin, and often entirely wanting! 
When there is little fat in the face the prominent bones] 
and the deep wrinkles in the old people, make it of very 
irregular outline. The eyes and the complexion are al- 
ways dark, but the latter varies from the color of a 
• Statements vary as to their height. Low (loc cit p 52 L) 
says: "The males, as a rule, are quite as tall as the average white 
man, but owing to their broad, heavy build, they appear shorter 
than they feally are; and this appearance is enhanced by their 
wide garments of hairy deer or seal skins. Where seen bv the 
writer * » * several of the men were six feet and upward in 
height, the average height being about six feel five inches " 
Deniker ( The Races of Man," 1900, p. 578) gives the average 
height of twenty-six measured Eskimos of Labrador as live feet 
two inches. Robert Brown ("Encycl. Brit., VIII., 543) says thev 
measure five feet four inches to five feet ten inches and in rare 
cases even six feet. The cephalic index (Deniker. p 587) is 76 8 
for the living subject, as measured on 614 Eskimos of Greenland- 
and for the skull has been found to be 72.4 for thirty-one cases 
from Gteenland 71.3 for 152 cases from Eastern America fmeasur^ 
ments of Davii). They are said by Ripley ("Races of Eurone" 
