IL 
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223 Raymond Bids. Dayton, Ohio, U, S, A. 
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“G. B. D.” French Briar Pipes.$2.50 
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18 S. Delaware Avenue Philadelphia, Pa. 
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No. 
11 
ITHACA GUNS 
For Christmas 
Sheldon, 11 year 
old son of the Ithaca 
Gun Man, had a 16 
gauge 26" Ithaca for 
Christmas. 
Here’s the first 
rabbit Sheldon 
shot at. An 
Ithaca Gun for ( 
Christmas will 
make your wife, 
kiddie, sister or 
sweetheart as 
\ healthy and happy as 
Sheldon’s Ithaca made 
him. 
Catalogue Free 
Double guns for 
game $37.50 up. 
Single barrel trap 
guns $90 up. 
ITHACA 
GUN CO. 
Ithaca, N. Y. 
Box 25 
ADVENTURES IN 
COMRADESHIP 
(Continued from page 703) 
landside we are almost wholly sur¬ 
rounded by a vast sanctuary—wood¬ 
lands dedicated to the safety of birds. 
There are 26,000 acres of it—mark 
that! It is a mighty park, requiring 
three days in a motor car to completely 
cover its winding roads. 
“Wild ducks that just a few years 
ago would never venture near where 
man held forth now rest at ease on the 
peaceful river. They seem to know 
that harm will not befall them. The 
children — particularly the boys — are 
building thousands of bird-houses, and 
these are turned over to the forest 
preserve. Each is a snug home for 
some family of wrens or martins. 
“The boys are permitted to be in at¬ 
tendance when their own bird bunga¬ 
lows are hung. I have seen an entire 
school turn out to pay respects when 
such an occasion was scheduled. And 
as there is bird-house making in per¬ 
haps some 325 elementary schools, you 
may judge the magnitude of the work. 
“They range from small homes hol¬ 
lowed out of the limb of a tree to three¬ 
storied and gabled mansions for the 
martens. The most fastidious bird 
family should be able to discover suit¬ 
able lodging for the season out of the 
vast majority of quarters fashioned by 
loving hands. Every house, of course, 
is built with a certain bird in mind, 
under instructions from the manual¬ 
training department of the schools.” 
“But where do they get their food?” 
queried the interested Sonnyboy. 
“The preserve foresters are planting 
mulberry trees and cherry,” was the 
reply. “Oh, that has been provided for. 
We have a deep affection for birds out 
our way.” 
After that, our friend was always 
referred to by Sonnyboy as the “Bird 
Man.” 
* - * * k * 
With but a short while remaining to 
us, Sonnyboy was for fishing and sail¬ 
ing. 
He never came within sniffing dis¬ 
tance of Steamboat Landing and the 
fretwork of boats of all kinds in the 
harbor that he did not long for deep- 
sea angling of which he had seen and 
heard so much while museum spell¬ 
bound. I imagine the whaling tradi- 
ditions were largely responsible for 
this, plus what he always saw when 
the fishing schooners came in with their 
impressive hauls. 
I was not so enthusiastic on this 
score, for the most casual investigation 
convinced me that there was little to 
be had outside if one did not go a long, 
long ways and suffer the attendant 
privations. 
It was rough for the next twenty- 
four hours, and when it did calm down 
we went after perch again at the scene 
of our former adventure. Conditions 
were more propitious. We caught 
thirty-seven beauties between us, with 
the laurels approximately even. I 
would say to any fisherman, visiting 
Nantucket, that there is more real fun 
to the square inch angling over the 
islands “Ponds” than in any attempt 
to negotiate deep water. The harbor, 
even out to its head, holds few induce¬ 
ments. 
But there’s a certain indefinable 
thrill in the atmosphere of a Sacacha, 
or a Polpis or a Shawkemo. These 
ponds are very much more than their 
names might imply, and the surround¬ 
ing slopes of moorland, the intermit- 
tant cranberry-bog sheds, the flowery, 
heathery points, and the sensation of 
being in some foreign place is not the 
least of the satisfaction. Besides which 
—the perch are prime! 
There was one intermission. 
Sonnyboy had his first fling at golf. 
I took him out to the course the next 
morning and turned him over to the 
stern administration of a competent 
Pro. He wanted to learn the game, and 
I was just as eager that it should be 
included in his list of sports. But I 
was shrewd enough not to attempt to 
give him those earlier lessons. A Pro. 
in time save nine years of inferior 
playing. The first thousand strokes 
are the hardest. 
Sonnyboy came out from under it 
like a Trojan. 
“That lad has it in him,” was the 
Pro.’s only comment. And Mother’s 
problem of a Christmas gift was 
straightway settled—a bag and clubs! 
The Ella May had appealed to both 
of us for more than a week. She was 
a smartly arranged fishing schooner, 
with a deep-sea record, and the two 
times we had been present when she 
unshipped her cargoes of plaice and 
flounders and mackerel, at Steamboat 
Wharf, the romance of it won us over. 
Cap’n Ned may have had much to do 
with it. 
He was short and chubby and moon¬ 
faced, and wore strange vests of pea- 
green, from the pockets of which ab¬ 
normally large watch-chains dangled. 
It was Sonnyboy who called my atten¬ 
tion to the fact that a shark’s tooth— 
or a suspicious object which resembled 
it—was used as a chaVm. 
Sonnyboy had expressed a desire to 
“go out where it was really deep and 
get some of those big fish.” 
I had my secret misgivings, as I have 
intimated. It would mean at least one 
night on the boat. These were 48-hour 
expeditions, operated with professional 
skill, and the Ella May did no kid job. 
Mother did her best to discourage the 
adventure. 
(Continued on page 708) 
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Page 706 
