226 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Feb. 8, 1908. 
A New Type of Gasolene Vessel. 
Messrs. Cox & Stevens have just placed the 
order for the construction of a gasolene vessei 
from their designs, which is of a distinctly novel 
type. The boat is for a Boston yachtsman, who 
has had large experience in the use of moderate¬ 
sized steam yachts in eastern waters, and wished 
to get a vessel that would combine good cruis¬ 
ing accommodation with fair speed and the best 
possible sea-going qualities. In order to meet 
his requirements, the designers have produced 
a craft that is to all intents and purposes a small 
steamer in appearance. The craft has a straight 
stem and an elliptical stern, such as is used on 
the modern steamers of large size to-day. The 
great waterline length thus obtained and the 
full deck line made possible by this type, gives 
a surprising amount of room on deck as well as 
below. The dimensions of the craft are ap¬ 
proximately 90ft. over all, 14ft. 6in. beam, and 
she is to draw 6ft. of water. Her motive power 
is a ioo-horsepower gasolene engine of the 
Standard type, which will give ample speed for 
her owner’s requirements. The quarters below 
are unusually large, consisting of in the after 
portion of the vessel, two staterooms extending 
from side to side with a bath room and a lobby 
between them, which can also be used as an ad¬ 
ditional stateroom, and forward of the engine 
space another large stateroom extending across 
the boat with a bath room attached and stair¬ 
way leading to the dining room, which is in 
the deckhouse. The vessel has ample freeboard 
and will be painted black from the bottom to 
the rail line. The house will be in appearance 
not unlike the pilot house of the usual type on 
steamers and will be painted white, as will the 
turtle deck forward of the house. This design 
is a great contrast to the conventional launch 
type with sharp or canoe stern and overhanging 
bow and light draft. The increase in room is 
very marked, and the additional displacement 
will make the boat much more comfortable in 
a sea way. The appearance of the craft when 
completed will be very pleasing to the eye and 
she will in reality be a miniature steamship. 
Sails—Belay! Belay All. 
Sail ho! Reynolds; sorry to have kicked up 
such a tempest in your teapot nut. Take a 
hot nightcap and turn in early. If you are 
wakeful, read Helevy. He’ll quiet the bee in 
your bonnet. Don’t go too far to windward 
in that ship of the desert, you’ll get your feet 
wet, and that is bad for young “fellers.” Look 
out for “Cop”-tic and cuneiform steam baths 
also. They are said to be fatal in certain cases 
of papyrus sail-in. But whatever else you do, 
don’t get grumpy. It’s bad—very bad! Cheer 
up. 
But do az ye plaze 
And be happy, me lad, 
There’s fun on the saze 
And there’s danger, bedad. 
E. A. J. 
How a Yankee boy, named George Williams, 
who went to New Orleans for work, came to 
go to sea was told recently in the evening World 
as follows: 
“One day in September I made the acquaint¬ 
ance of a jolly sort of a chap and accepted his 
invitation to have a drink. The next I remem¬ 
ber after taking the drink was hearing the rattle 
of the anchor cable as it was being stowed in 
the chain locker and the pounding of waves out¬ 
side the ill-smelling quarters in _ which I came 
to. Then I heard a man shouting for me to 
turn to, and when I crawled up on the deck 
of the steamer I could see the land disappear¬ 
ing astern. 
“My efforts to obtain an explanation were cut 
short by an order from the bos’un to get to 
work. And work I did, from that hour until 
we reached Hamburg, thirty days later. Being 
totally unfamiliar with sea life I was given all 
the dirty work that could be found on the ship, 
and was frequently put on the lookout to stand 
watches eight hours long.” 
He was shanghaied aboard a German tramp 
steamer bound to Hamburg. 
Canoeing. 
Fragments from the ’88 Meet. 
Continued from page 186. 
Five miles from its southern end, Lake George 
—for the romantic name of Horicon, which 
Cooper endeavored to. popularize, has never 
gained general acceptance—pushes apart the 
mountains- that ring its whole length round, far 
enough to gain its greatest width of about five 
miles. Almost in its center at this point there 
is a long, low and well-wooded island with rocky 
serrated shores; and this is Long Island, on the 
southern extremity of which was established the 
’88 camp of the American Canoe Association. 
Lage George is beautiful, but despite the purity 
of its limpid waters and the glory of the blue 
summer skies, that during the last weeks of 
August hang over it, the dark mountains border 
it so closely that its beauty is of a somewhat 
sombre cast. About Long Island, however, it 
is not so, as both to the eastward and westward 
deep valleys pierce the encircling mountain 
ranges, and the bright green and yellow of 
meadow land and harvest field enliven the land¬ 
scape. But little of all this the canoeists saw, 
unless they were in their canoes, as a dense 
hedge of scrub cedar guarded the water’s edge 
_ about the main camp, and isolated clumps of this 
same sombre shrub cut the camp up into dis¬ 
tricts. Scrub cedar has some good points, but 
about a camp its most useful function is to make 
tent poles, and as the canoeists were pledged 
upon their honor as knights of the paddle not 
to cut down a tree, the only use they could 
make of this cedar environment was to vent 
their ill-humor upon it. 
In spite of the scrub cedar, three days after 
the camp opened the south end of Long Island 
was a picturesque scene. Along the shore rough 
platforms of hemlock lumber had been built, and 
upon these skids lay a fleet of as beautiful craft 
as ever parted the water. In every direction 
among the cedars white tents, and blue and 
white striped tents, round tents and square tents, 
A tents and wall tents, nearly all with a wide 
and hospitable fly in front, were pitched. Be¬ 
fore every tent, or nearly every tent, there was 
a rough cedar flagpole, and all day from its top 
swung the stars and stripes, a gay club flag, an 
officer’s pennant, or, at the worst, a piece of 
colored cotton. From, perhaps, the highest point 
of the camp the flag of the Dominion displayed 
itself, and “Canuckia” was one of the quarters 
of the camp, although all the Canadians did not 
gather under the flag. Nearly every tent or 
group of tents had not only a flag, but a name; 
there was a “Harvard square,” and the “Time 
Killers’ Club,” “Jabberville” and “Jumboia” 
(the smallest tent in camp), and all sorts of 
common titles such as “Pea-nut grove.” But 
such names were written, not spoken terms, 
the members of the same club, generally speak¬ 
ing, camping together; and it was odd enough 
to hear it said that one man had been put out 
of “Springfield” after making “Rome” howl, and 
scaring all “Lowell” out of bed. The great 
majority of the tents were not of the. order gen¬ 
erally connected with the idea of a canoe, there 
were plenty of small and unpretentious tents of 
course, but then there were a great many the 
size of a small house, with matched board floors, 
bright rugs, folding chairs and tables, cot beds, 
and any quantity of nick-nacks. 
The regular routine of the camp for the first 
week was almost unbroken. At seven in the 
morning the bugler made his presence known 
at Harvard square, and the Harvard men, who 
were the artillerists of the camp, fired the gun. 
Every flag was supposed to unfold itself when 
the gun fired, but it was the exception, not the 
rule to observe this rule. As no one could get 
any sleep after gun fire the camp was generally 
astir soon after, and the first duty of the day 
was a plunge in the refreshing waters of Lake 
George. Then came breakfast—at the mess tent 
for those who were too lazy to cook for them¬ 
selves, and out of the frying pan for those who 
were not. If it was a visitors’ day, and there 
were a great many visitors (about seven-eighths 
of whom were amateur photographers), the next 
hour or two was spent in “fixing up” the tents. 
Then the camp divided; the racing men went to 
work on their boats and rigs, polishing, varnish¬ 
ing, fitting, scraping, adjusting; the non-racing 
men went down to Squaw Point, loafed about 
their tents, about the shop or about headquarters, 
and talked canoe with the racing men. There 
was comparatively little sailing done. Of course, 
when there are two hundred canoes concentrated 
at one point there are always enough of them 
out to make a picture for the benefit of the 
loafers; but during that first week there was 
more talk about canoeing than canoeing—always 
excepting the twenty-five or thirty racing men 
and the officers. There lay upon the camp that 
influence, fatal to all industry, which may be 
called “Indian fever.” The pure air, the plain 
(very plain) food of the mess tent, the feeling 
of good fellowship that prevailed, put every man 
on such good terms with himself that it was not 
necessary for him to exert himself severally in 
order to have a good time. There was but one 
subject discussed during that week, but one 
thought of during the second—and that was the 
canoe. Statesman, soldier, journalist, lawyer, 
student, doctor, merchant; no matter what the 
individual happened to be when at home, in camp 
he was a canoeist, and as such he had but one 
interest in life—the canoe. When the mails came 
in he relapsed for a time, it may be, into an 
ordinary mortal, but the remedy in the shape of 
a new boat, a new rig, or an animated discussion 
about canoe lines, drop rudders, standing rigs, 
plate boards, was always at hand and was almost 
instantly applied. Dinner came too quickly, and 
yet not quickly enough to satisfy the active appe¬ 
tites that even loafing engendered, and after din¬ 
ner came the same talk, the same idle satisfac¬ 
tion with themselves and with all things. An¬ 
other meal, and at 7 o’clock the trumpet sounded 
once more, the gun was again fired, and the flags 
came fluttering down as the echoes died away. 
Then tents were lit up, small parties gathered 
together in the moonlight, small fires were kind¬ 
led in front of the tents, and yarn followed 
yarn. Occasionally someone was inspired to sing, 
and presently “taps” sounded and everybody went 
to bed. There were a few night hawks in camp, 
as a matter of course, but after they had 
“whooped it up” about camp until 2 o’clock one 
night and decorated all the flag poles they could 
reach with sails, the executive committee took 
them in hand and the thing was stopped. 
[to be continued.] 
A. C. A. Membership. 
NEW MEMBERS PROPOSED. 
Atlantic Division.—Le Grand Harvey, 228th 
street. Kingsbridge, New York city, by Frank 
W. Baldwin; Fred W. Baldwin, 436 W. 166th 
street, New York city, by Frank W. Baldwin. 
NEW MEMBERS ELECTED. . 
Atlantic Division.—5445, J. C. Wilcox, Tren¬ 
ton, N. J. 
Central Division.—5428, G. Brown Hill, Pitts¬ 
burg, Pa.; 5429, Paul M. Lincoln, Pittsburg, Pa.; 
5430, Wm. W. Wishart, Pittsburg, Pa.; 5431, 
Justus Dunatt, Pittsburg, Pa.; 5433, Charles E. 
Middleton, Pittsburg, Pa.; 5434, Carl R. Sodon; 
5435, Karl E. Van Kuran; 5436, William A. 
Dick; 5437, Wm. P. Flint; 5439. Russell S. 
Feicht, all of Pittsburg, Pa.; 5432, W. H. Foot, 
Edgewood Park, Pa.; 5438, Charles Fortescue, 
and 5441, Frank C. Waddell, both of Wilkins- 
burgh, Pa.; 5440, Ralph H. Watson, Munhall, 
Pa. 
Eastern Division.—5442, Fred W. Allison, 
West Medford, Mass.; 5443, John C. Andrews, 
and 5444, Louis H. Dow, both of Woburn. Mass. 
Western Division.—5423, Harry R. Snyder, 
Rockford, Ill.; 5426, Andrew De Graff Berkley, 
St. Paul, Minn.; 5424, G. M. Strum: 5425, J. 
Geilon; and 5427, Charles B. Reed, all of Chi¬ 
cago, Ill. 
MEMBERS TRANSFERRED. 
4900, Julius Schmitz, Somerville, N. J., from 
Eastern Division to Atlantic Division. 
