July 2, 1904.] 
down, and be it noted that the common idea that you 
cannot open your eyes under water but must go down 
with them open is utter nonsense. Get the body across 
one knee, and a kick from the other leg will bring you 
and him to the surface. A man will not clutch or strug- 
gle if he has once sunk, but that is no reason for letting 
him sink. A man who has sunk is very nearly dead. Be 
it noted also that it is utter nonsense to say that a man 
"rises three times," and it is difficult to know how such 
a very common belief can be so widespread. If you de- 
termine to wait till your sunken man rises again you 
will have to wait till the Resurrection Day. 
So far I have referred only to rescuing a struggling 
man fighting for his life and lost to all sense but his own 
danger ; but it may happen to many of us to be swimming 
with a friend who gets cramp, or to soldiers to have to 
get a wounded comrade across a river. The ordinary 
mortal would try to swim with the injured man on his 
back, and would assuredly fail. But nothing can possibly 
be easier than to help another man who will keep quiet 
and has his wits about him. If he will turn on his back 
and place his hands on your shoulders, you can swim any 
distance with him without being in the least incom- 
moded. I am sure no one will believe how easy this is 
till they have tried it. 
No one can say he will never find himself in the dread- 
ful position of seeing a fellow man drowning before his 
eyes. At the expense of a few hours given to learning 
how to save life and keep his own the position would 
not be so dreadful. Surely this is worth the expenditure 
of a little time and a very little trouble, and surely this 
knowledge might .with advantage be given to our boys 
at our public and private schools. — Hon. Sydney Hol- 
land in Badminton Magazine. 
— -* — 
The Naturalist of the St. Croix. 
When George A. Boardman passed away, some three 
and a half years ago, the Maine woods lost their chief in- 
terpreter, and the New Brunswick forests a familiar 
presence. Like Thoreau, this eminent naturalist knew 
all their haunts and by-ways; and for seventy years he 
studiously cultivated the acquaintance of their furred 
and feathered denizens until he came to know them all 
by sight and name, and gathered one of the largest pri- 
vate collections in ornithology and natural history of any 
citizen of this country. It has been well said that "the 
accuracy of his scientific knowledge was only exceeded 
by his noble character and beautiful life." No wonder 
that his appreciative friends and family did not rest until 
they had produced a fitting memorial of the good man 
and his valuable work. This has recently been brought 
out in the shape of an exquisite souvenir volume, edited 
by his nephew, Samuel Lane Boardman, of the University 
of Maine, and gratuitously distributed at the expense of 
the Boardman family to several hundred grateful benefi- 
ciaries, of whom the greater number are naturalists, or 
persons interested in natural history. A special edition 
of twenty-five copies, exquisitely bound in kid, and 
quaintly illustrated, was the personal gift of his second 
son, Aibert J. Boardman, of the Gas Improvement Com- 
pany, of Philadelphia. The memorial was exclusively a 
home product, intellectually and mechanically, and as a 
most creditable sample of the book maker's art, shows 
what can be done in Maine. 
When our native-born school children are asked the 
question, "Who is the greatest general that ever lived?" 
they will invariably answer, "George Washington," be- 
cause the name occurs to them first. For a like reason, 
Audubon has the first place among naturalists, and his 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
name will probably stand long after others more promi- 
nent are forgotten. But there are others of equal re- 
pute who are illustrious, and of these Mr. Boardman is 
perhaps foremost. His collections bear witness to his 
merits, and they are on view in the Parliament House in 
Fredericton, N. B., Canada. Few will have the temerity 
to dispute his precedence. The ' very extensive cor- 
respondence included in the St. Croix Memoirs not only 
lets the reader into his inner life and the systematic 
methods of his work, but it discloses his painstaking 
accuracy, indicates the advanced progress of his study, 
and introduces his co-workers and compeers by name, in 
England and America, showing their estimate of him by 
what they expect, say, and ask of him. Celebrity depends 
much upon the period, the place, and the occasion. Shoot- 
ing stars excite a momentary admiration and wonder, 
but the glory of the planets is fixed. 
It must not be inferred that Mr. Boardman's specimens 
represented the fauna of the St. Croix region alone. Mr. 
Boardman ranged far and wide — to Florida, South 
America, and the West Indies — year after year for de- 
cades, until he was able finally to present the almost 
representative fauna of eastern North America, with 
each species of bird in the variant plumage of sex and 
seasonal migration. And in the literature of ornithology 
and general natural history, his pen was his ready adju- 
vant and constant co-efficient. His unpublished notes and 
essays would make a volume additional to what appears 
in the St. Croix souvenir, and all reliable. Prof. Spencer 
F. Baird, so long Chief of the Smithsonian Institution, 
declared that Boardman's contributions to the Institution 
were the only ones which needed no correction. Pioneer 
observer that he was, Mr. Boardman made his studies 
and recorded his observations upon birds of eastern 
North America before the present school of ornitholo- 
gists had begun their work. He was the first to discover 
a number of species, and found the first nest and recorded 
the first nesting habits of many birds then little known 
to science. The author of the Memoirs has happily traced 
the progress of his discoveries with almost chronological 
exactness from the date of his maiden field work to his 
demise ; and, it may be added, has given more accurate 
scientific lists of all the specimens in the collection, not 
only of the St. Croix region, but of Florida, where he 
spent no less than twenty winters. He was a persistent 
student of albinism and melanism, and had the largest 
collection, of bird freaks in the country, covering no less 
than twenty-five different species of raptores, game, and 
song birds. 
In its issue of August 5, 1901, the Forest and 
Stream published an extended sketch of Mr. Boardman, 
which it is easier to refer to than repeat here. Some 
things can be said here, however, which would hardly 
have answered then, while he was living. Suffice it to 
say that he was a naturalist of the old school, and em- 
ployed the methods of 'the old field naturalists. He al- 
ways shot his own birds, and was allowed to be one of 
the best wing shots in the country. His knowledge came 
by personal contact and association, while roughing it in 
the bush. He learned directly from Nature's self, and' 
accepted the lessons thus acquired. He did not elaborate 
theories, and dawdle 'with auto-suggestions and new 
thought philosophies. He worked with his hands in 
Nature's _ workshop, • and not, as the tendency of the 
present time is, to give; up dealing directly with things, 
and take to thinking . alone as the only dignified and 
respectable employment for professional men. 
Charles Hallock. •.? 
Chatham, N. J., has an abino robin, which has appeared 
for the second setson. The bird resembles the ordinary 
robin in size and form, but instead of the red breast it has 
a broad dash of white, while its wings and head are 
covered with feathers flecked with the same color in' 
abundance. 
A Gunning Scarecrow. 
If the crow has a sense of humor (and despite his 
sable coat and solemn bearing, I am inclined to think 
he has), he must often laugh heartily at the figures which 
are erected with the object of scaring him. They are cer- 
tainly ridiculous, and no crow with an ounce of sense of 
experience could mistake them for live men. 
_ The mode of erection is generally this : A stake is set 
m the ground and a cross-piece nailed to it. On this is 
hung an old coat and possibly an attempt is made to 
clothe the nether extremity with a pair of trousers. 
Above is placed a battered hat, and there you are. 
Now, this might have deceived a crow when the world 
was young, but it deceives him no longer. He is "on to 
it;" he treats it with contempt; he laughs at it. I have 
heard him conferring with some of his fellows on a tree 
apropos of such a figure, and if ever a bird laughed it 
was he. "Haw! haw! haw!" shortly and derisively. 
There was really no mistaking it. Then he sailed down 
into the cornfield and began to pull up the grain under 
the very nose— beg pardon !— in the very shadow of the 
"sentinel." 
It seems the farmers must think the crow has no powers 
of observation or deduction. But no, unfortunate men, 
they have only too much reason to think otherwise. The 
fact is, I believe, that they are deficient in art. They 
use their best efforts to represent a live man, but so un- 
successful are they that even a bird of the air is not de- 
ceived. However, they should not feel bad over this. If 
they lived in the city, they would know that many a more 
ambitious artist has essayed the feat with not much more 
success. But the feat is not impossible. If I did not find 
this out in the art galleries (at least those devoted to the 
exhibition of contemporaneous efforts), I found it out 
in a cornfield. Actually so; and glad am I to be able 
to bring tidings of joy to the farmers— the poor, long- 
suffering men. (I wish I could only raise all their 
mortgages and make the weather for them.) 
A few weeks ago I was in the country, and strolling 
along a road I came upon a cornfield newly planted. I 
stopped to admire the tender green shoots just appearing 
above ground, when something in the middle of the field 
attracted my attention. "It cannot be a scarecrow," I 
commented; "it is a real man watching for a shot." The 
figure was semi-recumbent (like that of a man on a still- 
hunt), with no coat on and the shirt sleeves showing 
distinctly, while a gun was held in readiness to be raised 
to the shoulder. I gazed at the figure for some time, 
immovable there in the middle of the field, and I thought 
to myself, "What patience the man has. I guess he must 
be a fisherman, too." Then, as I continued to gaze, and 
there was still no movement, I began to grow suspicious ; 
so, to satisfy my curiosity, I vaulted over the fence and 
started across the field. 
When within twenty yards of the figure, I could not 
yet; make up my mind- whether it was alive or not. There 
was certainly no movement, but if the figure was alive the 
immobility might be explained by the intentness of watch- 
ing. And as the back was turned toward me, and my 
footfall was noiseless in the soft clay, my approach, of 
course, had not been detected 
At length I came up with it and stopped short, struck 
to admiration. The figure was inanimate, and yet might 
have been said to breathe. I took off my hat to that 
work of art. The crows were flying about, or thieving, 
in neighboring fields, but never a crow came near that 
field. Again and again I contemplated the figure, with 
ever-growing admiration. "Such a brilliant conception," 
I soliloquized; "such vraisemblance— such a natural, sug- 
gestive pose; and the shirt sleeves— the last touch of 
genius !" Had I known where the artist lived, I should 
have gone there and then and paid him my sincere 
homage. Frank Moonan. 
Life in the Woods .—XII. 
From Great to Small. 
A hunter is usually a man of many resources, espe- 
cially when in the woods, and this rule seemed to hold 
good in our party. So it came about that while in camp, 
and not engaged in the routine work of sawing wood and 
putting it under cover, or washing dishes, cooking, and 
carrying water, or mending clothes, cleaning guns, reload- 
ing ammunition, or writing letters, reading, or playing 
cards, someone was devising some other form of occupa- 
tion. Bill and the Colonel, who were explorers in their 
way, had, in the course of their travels, discovered a wild 
cranberry marsh, and one day, after dinner, the entire 
crew went over to it. We found a big crop of berries, 
and in the course of a half hour or so had picked enough 
to last us nearly two weeks, so that throughout the re- 
maining time of our hunt we did not lack for cranberry 
sauce. It was good, too. The wild berry is much smaller 
and of darker color than the cultivated product, but it has 
a much more tart, and in some respects a much better 
flavor than its civilized sister. They take quantities of 
sugar to make them palatable, but we had a large supply, 
and enjoyed the wild berries to the fullest extent. We 
found, also, that the lakes around us were well stocked 
with fish. For one lake we constructed a scow from some 
boards we had brought in with us from the railroad 
station. On another there was an old boat which, though 
rather leaky, was made of some service, and for, all the 
other lakes we built rafts. For the latter we cut light 
logs — cedar, when it was possible to obtain it — and these 
we fastened together by boring inch auger holes into 
them and fastening cross-pieces with wooden pins. The 
auger we took in with us for that express purpose, and 
an ax and a few wire nails were all that we needed in 
addition. At a deserted logging camp we found quite a 
quantity of wire which had come around the baled hay 
used for the horses, and this was also made use of for 
binding the logs together. Our boat was a simple affair, 
but so serviceable that we christened it the Dandy. Two 
side boards rounded off at both ends, two end pieces, and 
wide flooring laid crosswise, constituted the craft. To 
prevent leaking we made pitch from rosin and tallow, 
and poured it liberally all along the inside cracks. In this 
way we made a boat as staunch as could be desired, and 
one that did duty_ for a number of seasons. Our fishing 
tackle was primitive, for it consisted of poles cut from 
a neighboring thicket, a piece of strong line, and a hook 
and sinker. Our plan was to catch our fish more by main 
force than to enjoy the delights of landing a big fish with 
light tackle. Most of the lake abounded with what in the 
West are called pickerel, and in the East pike, and at 
first most any kind of bait sufficed to tempt them. A 
piece of salt pork or venison or red squirrel would gen- 
erally land a good string in a short time, and now and 
then, by standing on a raft and throwing a spoon far out 
in the lake, good sport could be had. The fish were not 
large, it being rare that we caught one over five pounds, 
but they seemed to be as fine for the table as any fish that 
swims. The meat was hard and juicy, and of a pink 
color like that of the salmon, a peculiarity I have never 
noticed in the same kind of fish caught in any other 
v/aters. In another small lake near camp there were 
nothing but perch, and with these the waters of the little 
body seemed to fairly swarm. Many a good frv we had 
ot them, for, barring the bones, they seemed "about as 
delicate to the palate as their larger brethren We also 
made use of them for bait when the more aristocratic fish 
became tired of salt pork and venison. By the use of a 
large tin pail we could preserve the smaller fry alive and 
by transporting them to some of the other lakes could 
keep them alive, in a hole dug along the shore, for a 
considerable length of time. When the lakes froze over 
