372 
FOREST AND STREAM 
March 22, 1913 
Published Weekly by the 
Forest and Stream Publishing Company, 
Charles Otis, President. 
W. G. Beeoroft, Secretary. W. J. Gallagher, Treasurer. 
127 Franklin Street, New York. 
CORRESPONDENCE— Forest and Stream is the 
recognized medium of entertainment, instruction and in¬ 
formation between American sportsmen. The editors 
invite communications on the subjects to which its pages 
are devoted, but, of course, are not responsible for the 
views of correspondents. Anonymous communications 
cannot be regarded. 
SUBSCRIPTIONS: $3 a year; $1.50 for six months; 
10 cts. a copy. Canadian, $4 a year; foreign. $4.50 a year. 
This paper may be obtained of newsdealers throughout 
the United States. Canada and Great Britain. Foreign 
Subscription and Sales Agents—London; Davies & Co., 
1 Finch Lane; Sampson, Low & Co. Paris; Brentano’s. 
ADVERTISEMENTS: Display and classified, 20 cts. 
per agate line ($2.80 per inch). There are 14 agate lines to 
the inch. Covers and special positions extra. Five, 
ten and twenty per cent, discount for 13, 26 and 52 inser¬ 
tions, respectively, within one year. Forms close Monday 
in advance of publication date. 
Entered as second-class matter at the Post-Office, 
Sew York, N. Y. 
VACATION MEMORIES. 
Happy are the memories which we all cherish 
of vacations past, and the hopes we have of 
those that are to come. Severe as may have 
been the toils of journey with pack or paddle; 
the climbing over rock-face and snow-slope of 
tall mountains; the sufferings of fatigue, hunger 
and thirst; in the retrospect all these hardships 
are lost sight of. We remember only the joys 
of attainment, and long for the time to come 
when we shall be able to repeat our trip; per¬ 
haps again to struggle and to suffer—and to 
succeed. 
Who can ever forget the breathless anxiety 
of the long climb, and the final joy of peeping 
over the hill and seeing below him, all uncon¬ 
scious of danger, the great ram lying on his bed 
of shale, calmly looking out over the wide moun¬ 
tainside that stretched so far below? 
Who can ever forget the patient whipping 
of the salmon stream—the rise and strike, just 
at dusk, of the greatest fish yet made fast on 
the trip; the breathless excitement of fighting 
the monster in the dark, when it was impossible 
10 see where he was going, or into what peril 
he was putting the tackle; and then the final 
supreme moment when victory declared itself— 
either for the angler, as he saw the waving bar 
of white lifted from the water, or for the fish 
wdien suddenly the line snapped back loose and 
the struggle was ended? 
Not to everyone is it given to excel in craft 
the mountain sheep, or in strength to equal the 
lordly salmon. To stir vacation memories, no 
rewards are needed so great as these. We may 
rejoice equally over idle days spent in lounging 
in the sunlight along the shores of a lake, going 
out night and morning to catch just fish enough 
for the pan; or in poling the light canoe up the 
wild streams in Canada or the Adirondacks, or 
with heavy pack, yet light heart, tramping along 
country roads, or through dim trails in green 
timber; or hour after hour brushing through 
the yellow stubble or the brown leaves of the 
woodland, as we follow the dogs afield. 
Many men have many minds, and to each 
one his vacation, however spent, is a lasting de¬ 
light. Unbidden its memories come to him by 
day or by night. Perhaps some sound, half 
heard, or some subtle odor touches a string of 
memory, and in a moment the full chord sweeps 
through his brain. More vivid still are the 
recollections, if he looks over a set of pictures 
taken on the trip, or gets out an old note book 
and turns its pages. Then a thousand trifles— 
events and words and phrases—long effaced from 
memory’s palimpsest, spring into view and the 
recollection becomes as fresh as if it were of 
yesterday. 
For most of us vacation times are short. 
For six months we may enjoy our memories, 
and for another six months may indulge in hopes 
of happy days to come. Nevertheless, in Forest 
AND Stream we may always read the story of 
other men’s vacations, just as by writing for 
Forest and Stream the story of our last year’s 
trip we may live over again our vacation and, 
besides, may give to others some suggestions of 
the pleasures that we ourselves have enjoyed. 
STILL AT THE TOP. 
The figures compiled by the Printers’ Ink of 
the total number of agate lines of advertising 
carried by each of five outdoor publications for 
the month of February, 1913, are as follows: 
Publication. Peb. 1913. 
1. Forest and Stream.12,619 
2. Outing Magazine .10,584 
3. Outdoor World . 9,302 
4. Field & Stream . 8,003 
5. Outer’s Book . 6,290 
SLAYING, SLAUGHTERING AND KILLING 
To be born great is not much perhaps, but 
we should all of us like to achieve greatness. 
However, should we care to have greatness 
thrust upon us? 
The Congressional Record deals with the 
proceedings of Congress, and it is not often 
that the simple citizen gets his name into that 
publication, but this happened recently to Chas. 
Sheldon, who, at the hearings held before the 
committees of Congress in March a year ago, 
appeared in behalf of the Weeks and McLean 
bills, representing the Boone and Crockett Club. 
Mr. Sheldon has attained a measure of success 
that many of us would be glad to equal, but 
what he had done does not satisfy a member 
of Congress, who wishes to thrust more great¬ 
ness on Mr. Sheldon, and so discusses him by 
name on the floor of the House. 
In the debate on the Senate amendment of 
the Agricultural Appropriation Bill, dealing with 
Federal protection of migratory birds, two 
speakers bitterly opposed the bill and talked at 
considerable length against it. One of these was 
Mr. Mondell, whose attitude is always well 
known, and the other was a gentleman from 
Indiana, Mr. Cox, whose speech, while his in¬ 
tentions were no doubt of the best, was calcu¬ 
lated to mislead, and wholly ignores the testi¬ 
mony offered by a number of scientific men and 
officials of bird protective associations. The 
gentleman from Indiana expressed these views: 
“The whole bill is a delusion and a snare. 
It would have been impossible to put the bill 
through, simply to protect the game bird, and 
in order to get it through, they had to couple 
with it a provision about which the fathers of 
this measure care nothing whatever. Who is 
the Boone and Crockett Club? Where is it? 
What was it organized for? It was founded in 
1887 by ex-President Roosevelt, and Mr. Sheldon, 
who appeared before the Senate committee in 
favor of the measure, said that the proposed 
measure was advocated by this club for the con¬ 
servation of big game, forest reserves and per¬ 
haps it was responsible for big-game refuges. 
Mr. Sheldon of course was, and is, an ardent 
advocate of this measure, because he is a mem¬ 
ber of the Boone and Crockett Club, and no 
doubt in the world but what this club is in 
favor of the pending measure, because they are 
genuine sportsmen. 
“This ardent advocate laments long and loud 
concerning big game fast disappearing, because, 
he says, that members of clubs like the Boone 
and Crockett Club no longer hunt on foot, or 
on horseback, but hunt in automobiles, and in 
fact one of the complaints against the depletion 
of game is because men do hunt in automobiles. 
Not many men in this country, compared with 
the total population, have much time to hunt for 
pleasure; most of them are rigorously employed 
in trying to earn a little bread and meat instead 
of going on pleasure jaunts and trips, slaying, 
slaughtering and killing game.’’ 
“Slaying, slaughtering and killing” game is 
a fairly ponderous expressing. The gentleman 
from Indiana did not wish anyone to be in 
doubt as to what he meant. 
We do not read regularly the Congressional 
Record, and of the rhetorical gems that it con¬ 
tains many must necessarily escape us, but of 
those gems few, we imagine, outshine in bril¬ 
liancy Mr. Cox’s ringing, rolling yet redundant 
remarks about slaying, slaughtering and killing 
game. 
SPRING SHOOTING. 
The poet Whittier said if he were a young 
man he would enlist under the banner of some 
great moral reform, no matter how desperate 
the fortunes of that cause might appear, and 
devote himself to laboring for its success. One 
of the younger generation of sportsmen now 
coming on to the stage might enroll himself on 
the side of the spring shooting abolitionists with 
perfect confidence in the ultimate triumph of 
their principles. Nothing in the entire field of 
sportsmanship is more clearly demonstrated by 
passing events than that the sentiment against 
spring shooting is gaining strength. It is gain¬ 
ing ground in a wider territory than ever be¬ 
fore. No one who intelligently notes the trend 
of opinion in relation to such affairs can fail 
to be convinced that this is the situation with re¬ 
spect to the shooting of wildfowl flying north¬ 
ward to their breeding grounds in the spring of 
the year. 
The Meadow Lark. 
BY WILL C. PARSONS. 
Almost deserted, Nature’s choir; but one. 
His breast aglow like summer’s setting sun, 
Pipes from a frozen clod in snow-patched field. 
His notes flash out like rays from polished shield. 
To cutting norther’s blade, he scorns to yield. 
“Cheery o’ cheer. 
Cheery every one!” 
Though he eternal summer might command. 
He stays behind; defies King Winter’s hand, 
And gladdens saddest heart with sweetest note 
That ever burst from songster’s silvery throat— 
A benediction in his mottled coat. 
“Cheery o’ cheer. 
Cheery every one!” 
