288 F O R 1^ S T A \ I) S T R E A M JUNE, 1919 
A RESPONSIVE SOLITUDE 
To the Editor of Forest and Stream : 
N ot far south of Columbus lies a hilly 
country of great scenic beauty as 
well as of geological botanical, and his- 
torical interest. In that region there is 
a rocky canyon that is particularly de- 
lightful. It is several miles long, and 
is joined at its center by a similar can- 
yon coming from the north, the two 
forming a letter T. 
It is said that the Indians rallied to 
their main settlements at old Chilicothe 
down this east and west trail. Some of 
the tales told of these gatherings may 
seem legendary, but there can be no 
doubt that the red man, following this 
path, never lost his way, for the needle 
of his compass was set by infallible Na- 
ture, and his route-map, cut deep in the 
rock, had a working scale of one foot to 
the foot. 
But the red Indian was not the first 
being whose gaze swept over these 
weathered walls. A still more primitive 
man once found here “a place where to 
lay his head.” The walls themselves 
bear evidence that he found such shel- 
ter, for in many places the disintegra- 
tion of the rock by moisture and expo- 
sure has left caves and galleries, where 
doubtless the wild creatures and even 
man found a refuge. 
A certain one of these caves is just 
large enough to serve as the abode of 
a young prehistoric man and his mate. 
In stones one can find history as well as 
sermons, and the approach to this little 
cave shows the depressions worn by the 
very feet and hands of the young couple 
as they climbed to their vaulted niche. 
I can picture them now, as he returned 
from his search for food, and threw him- 
self on a pelt and watched his fire and 
the wavering shadows of his mate on 
floor and wall. 
Let us trust their lives were happy 
— and why not? Primitive life had its 
shortcomings and limitations, but it had 
its primitive virtues .as well; and love, 
friendship, faith and truth were not un- 
known qualities even among those who 
chipped the flint and sharpened the bone. 
Perhaps our pair lived long enough to 
wear deeper those handholds and foot- 
holds which helped so nicely, by their po- 
sitions to co-ordinate the movements of 
the climber’s body during the ascent to 
the cave. I wish we could hear the full 
story of their lives. Perhaps we then 
might change our feeling of pity for one 
of admiration, that such as these, with 
so little, could in such large measure par- 
take of God’s grace. 
The formation in this region is pre- 
glacial, and salamanders and other ar- 
chaic forms of life live in the golden 
brook that picks its way between the 
wall on the north and the wall on the 
south. The banks of this brook are the 
haunts of birch and hemlock, and near 
them the moccasin flower. On the 
higher reaches of the sunny sides the 
arbutus trails its bronze-green clinging 
span, and fills the air with its sweet 
breath of early spring. 
I love to sit on the sun-drenched edge 
of the wide gap, and trace its rocky 
walls to where they end in portals, 
through which are seen the vistas be- 
yond. In vagrant fancy I project what 
of me is sentient among the shaded pur- 
ple and blue mysteries which line the 
terrestrial bowl to where its rim sus- 
tains the vaulted sky. 
All is still; even the buzzards, on 
slanting and steady wings, sail by with- 
out a sound; the only evidence that they 
mark and note is their fixed gaze, which 
ever turns toward the intruder as they 
pass by in unhurried curves. 
I love to couch on the bank of the 
friendly stream, to inhale the spicy odors 
of the forest, and gaze on the bright 
stars as they pass the spaces between 
the hemlock fronds; meanwhile the 
whippoorwills voice their plaint in 
measured cadence, until they begin to 
sense the coming of day — then the song 
becomes more hurried and less articu- 
late, finally ceasing as if exercised when 
the bright sword of dawn is uplifted in 
the eastern sky. 
Frank Louis Stillman, Ohio. 
TROUT AND A FEW KINKS 
To the Editor of Forest and Stream : 
O F course, we have to have Forest 
AND Stream and after reading it we 
send it to a good old sportsman who lives 
all alone beside a mountain lake in Mons 
County. This lake is one of the most 
beautiful in the Sierras. It lies 7,100 feet 
above sea level and contains some splen- 
did cutthroat trout. 
Over in that country last fall Mrs. 
Warner killed a 4-pound trout and I got 
several from 4 to 7 pounds. The seven 
pounder was a really big trout, being 
29% inches long, but, alas, thin. These 
cutthroat trout are far and away the best 
flavored flresh water trout I have ever 
tasted. I saw Chas. Strock, of Los An- 
geles, take a six-pound trout on a fly and 
in a few moments he had hooked another 
one, quite near the boat and at about 
the same time took a mud hen and got 
away with it, too. ’ 
In a recent Forest and Stream I noted 
some “kinks” for keeping shoemaker’s 
wax in condition for fly tying, while it 
might interest the writer to learn that 
that wax comes in winter and summer 
grades. I would like to ask why use 
greasy stuff for fly tying? It sticks, but 
spoils the silks. 
For nearly twenty years I have used 
a recipe from “American Game Fishes,” 
page 456, and the original batch of wax, 
kept only in a tin box, is still good and 
workable: “One pound clean white resin, 
when melted over slow fire, add four 
ounces diachylon and stir until thor- 
oughtly incorporated then add two 
ounces Bergundy pitch. Pour into dish 
of cold water and pull until cold; the 
more it is pulled the whiter it gets.” 
About one-quarter of this recipe will be 
enough for an amateur for life. 
Here is a real kink: put a little ball 
of the wax on a small stick; you will 
then have a handle and keep your hands 
from sticking to silk and feathers; also 
you can stick the handle into something 
to hold the wax out of dust, feathers, 
etc., when not being applied to thread. 
Another kink: hold one end of tying 
silk between teeth so it will not kink and 
break while applying wax. 
Francis G. Warner. California. 
CATCHING FROGS WITH A LIGHT 
To the Editor of Forest and Stream: 
I HAVE just read the article, “The 
* Humble Frog,” and I notice the writ- 
er says the best way to hunt him is with 
a .22 rifle. The best way I think is 
with a bright flashlight at night, the 
darker the better. 
I use a Delta box with two No. 6 dry 
batteries. I had a bag made to fit box 
to carry on shoulder and the lamp has a 
long cord, which gives a very_ bright 
light. Go to a pond or creek and walk 
very slowly along the edge of the water, 
playing light from ten to twenty feet 
ahead and the first thing you will see 
will be two bright red balls shining. Be 
sure to keep light on him all the while, 
but keep walking and put light into his 
eyes. Take your other hand and reach- 
ing above and back of him (very easy) 
just make a quick grab in, the small of 
his back and Mr. Frog is yours. 
I also carry a small sack over shoulders 
to put the frogs in and, of course, they 
are not hurt at all. I went out quite a 
number of times last summer and would 
always catch from ten to twenty-five 
each time. I would only stay out a few 
hours. There is no use to go when the 
moon is shining bright, because Mr. 
Frog will see you first and get away. 
