Forest and Stream 
Terms, $3 a Year, 10 Cts. a Copy. I 
Six Months, $1.50. 
NEW YORK, SATURDAY, AUGUST i, 1908 . 
j VOL. LXXI.—No. 5. 
I No. 127 Franklin St., New York. 
A WEEKLY JOURNAL. 
Copyright, 1908, by Forest and Stream Publishing Co. 
George Bird Grinnell, President, 
Charles B. Reynolds, Secretary. 
Louis Dean Speir, Treasurer. 
127 Franklin Street, New \ork. 
THE OBJECT OF THIS JOURNAL 
will be to studiously promote a healthful interest 
jn outdoor recreation, and to cultivate a refined 
taste for natural objects. 
—Forest and Stream, Aug. 14, 1873. 
ACROSS THE RANGE. 
The death of William T. Hamilton, which 
took place in Billings, Mont., probably removes 
the last one of the original old-time trappers 
of the Western country; the men who led the 
way, who made the roads and blazed the trails 
for the millions that were so soon to follow them. 
William T. Hamilton was born in England in 
1822 and came to the United States when but a 
baby. Much of the story of his life is told in 
his volume, “My Sixty Years on the Plains,” 
and additional details are given in his contribu¬ 
tions to the Montana Historical Society and to 
Forest and Stream. 
As a boy he was not strong, and his first trip 
from St. Louis to the plains was made in search 
of health. He expected to be goix or one 
year only, but did not return for F , and then 
after a short stay in St. Louis c.ice more turned 
his face toward the wilderness where the 1 est 
of his life was spent in trapping, trading and 
scouting. Until he had reached the age o. 
eighty-four years he made an annual spimg 
trip into the mountains with a few traps in 
search of fur. For the last few years he had 
lived continuously in a cabin on the north bank 
of the Yellowstone, at Columbus, Montana, 
baching there alone, for he had no family. He 
had married in California in 184Q or 1850, but 
his wife and child had died in 1851. 
Many years ago Mr. Hamilton lost his hear¬ 
ing, but up to the time of his death his eye¬ 
sight was of the best. He was known as a most 
accomplished sign talker, and during the last 
day or two of his life, when speech was no 
longer possible for him, he still talked with his 
friend, Col. J. I. Allen, in the sign language. 
This spring his health began seriously to fail, 
and his friend, John D. Losekamp, had him 
brought to Billings. It soon appeared that he 
could not recover, but up to the time of his 
death. Uncle Bill's mind was active, energetic 
and positive. He had his own unchangeable, 
ideas of right and wrong, the ideas of a sturdy 
and upright man. He was always brave, courte¬ 
ous and kindly, but impatient with those whose 
actions were not up to the standard that he had 
set for himself and for humanity. 
As we look back on the sixty-six years that 
have elapsed since William T. Hamilton first 
set out to travel across the plains, we realize 
that men of his stamp-—those who live and work 
and suffer as he lived and worked and suffered 
—no longer exist. Perhaps the material may 
still be with us, but the conditions no longer 
exist to call forth those characteristics which 
helped to make Western America what it is to¬ 
day. 
MID-SUMMER DAYS. 
Always in mid July, and sometimes earlier, 
comes that whitening of the crown of the chest¬ 
nut trees which tells us that mid-summer is here. 
Now the rattle of the mowing machine sounds 
in the hay meadow ; the yellowing grain, which 
billows in the passing breeze, stands ready for 
the reaper; the long drooping leaves of the 
growing corn rustle with a soft sibillant mur¬ 
mur. On the shorn stubbles of the meadows 
gather great hordes of blackbirds and sparrows 
to feast on the insects which all through the 
spring have led fearless and jovial lives, hidden 
down among the grass stems, but now uncov¬ 
ered, ashamed and afraid, must hastily seek 
some other shelter. 
The birds have not yet begun to flock. They 
go about in family groups; the young as 
large as the parents, and yet often to be dis¬ 
tinguished from them by dress or voice. The 
robins fly across the sky by fours and fives; but 
if you see them in the trees or on the ground 
near at hand you may recognize the young by 
their spotted breasts, as well as by the light¬ 
hearted unconcern with which they regard youi 
close approach. Crows are seen by the half 
dozen, all looking alike at a distance, but not 
alike in the way they talk. The cries of the old 
one are harsh, decisive, imperative; but in the 
voices of the young there is a tone of supplica¬ 
tion and often of peevish complaining. 
Now, the swallows are beginning to range 
themselves along the telegraph wires, resting at 
intervals from their continuous play back and 
forth in the upper air. Soon they will be pre¬ 
paring for their southward migration which will 
take them far far away to the land of warmth 
and sunshine; but even there their acti\ ity will 
continue. Truly the swallow above most other 
creatures must work to live. 
Although at night and in the early morning 
the song of the robin is still heard; before long, 
now, even he will become silent, and bird songs 
will cease for another year. Then will come the 
time for moulting, for donning autumn plumage, 
the flocking and the preparation for the long 
journey to more genial climes. 
Soon the sportsman will begin to look over 
his gun, and to consider that presently the rail 
shooting will be in order. He will remember, 
too, that he ought to give some exercise and 
work to the old dog, who will need tuning up 
before he can be expected to start in on the fall 
campaign. 
THE CATALINA CONTROVERSY. 
The small army of sea anglers who pass their 
holidays and vacations in Avalon Bay, sheltered 
from the trade winds by the cliffs of Catalina 
Island, are greatly exercised over the recent 
performances of some of their more fortunate 
fellows. Some of the Avalon fishing clubs have 
offered prizes for fish of certain weights that 
may be taken “in Catalina waters. San 
Clemente Island is some twenty miles distant 
from Avalon. Only staunch power boats are 
safe in crossing the channel, and these are ex¬ 
pensive luxuries. The round trip must be made 
during the night and morning, for after the 
trade wind begins to blow the channel is an un¬ 
pleasant place to be in at any time, and a dan¬ 
gerous one in a blow. But the biggest yellow- 
tail are to be had with little effort off Clemente. 
It is rush over, fish for a few hours, and rush 
back. The catch is weighed in at Avalon, and 
Catalina prizes demanded, there being nothing 
at present in the rules to prohibit this. 
The presentation of prizes for record fish is 
practiced everywhere. Catalina waters attract 
men from every part of the world, and in sea¬ 
son almost as many foreigners as Californians 
fish there. The former are prepared for a large 
outlay of cash, while, many of the natives are 
not. It is the old story of the long purse, but 
it will be interesting to learn what the outcome 
will be. 
Certain privileges, which the public has en¬ 
joyed for a great many years on the banks of 
the Scottish lowland streams, are, it seems, to 
be denied.’ This, it is believed, will be the re¬ 
sult of a question that was discussed in Parlia¬ 
ment when a Scotch representative asked the 
Lord Advocate whether, 
in view of the fact that forty years’ continuous use of a 
footpath gives the public a prescriptive right to use, 
commonly called a right-of-way, he would bring forward 
legislation to make the same principle apply to any 
river in the Lowlands of Scotland which had been con¬ 
tinuously fished for the same length of time without let 
or hindrance from the landed proprietor. 
The Lord Advocate, in referring the member 
to the Prime Minister for an opinion, said: 
The exclusion in recent years of the public from 
fishing over considerable stretches of water has brought 
into greater prominence the question of the possible 
acquisition by the public of such rights of access and 
fishing by prescriptive use or otherwise. My honorable 
friend quite rightly alludes to the relation which such 
acquisition bears to the whole question of rights-of-way. 
These questions so related have for some time been re¬ 
ceiving the careful consideration of the Government. 
Many Scottish rivers are open to the public, 
and anglers follow them at will, as theii ances¬ 
tors had done before fishing rights became a 
valuable asset of owners. Now that the ques¬ 
tion has been raised, however, and remains open, 
it is probable owners will feel safe in excluding 
anglers from their property. 
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