FOREST 
Vol. XCIV No. 4 

April - 1924 
On a Pennsylvania Trout Stream 
HEN a habitually late riser 
\V/ has to get up early, usually 
he will bestir himself Icng 
before the appointed hour. So it was 
in this case. 
That wiry old snowhead, the judge, 
had warned us that the trap would 
. be at the door by 4.30 A. M., and that 
wonderful dusky cook of his had vowed 
that she would have breakfast on the 
table at four o’clock sharp, so what 
could three poor fellows do! 
I'll tell what they did. John, son of 
the house, just folded his paws and 
serenely slept, as sons of houses are 
privileged to do when home for a brief 
visit. Son-in-law Charles did a trifle 
better, although I suspect that his wife 
had to kick him out. I, a poor atom, 
alone in the wilds of the guest- 
chamber, was too scared to take any 
chances, and so it came to pass that 
3:30 found me in pajamas, perched 
upon one of many broad window-seats 
and waiting for something to turn up. 
I was well repaid. Granted for a 
man good sense, good taste and plenty 
of wherewithal, and: he should, and 
probably would, make for himself a 
home like the Judge’s. A mansion in 
the skies, no doubt, is a very satis- 
factory property, but it has the dis- 
advantage that a fellow must quit 
trout-fishing before he can enjoy it. 
Hence, for the present anda for as 
liberal slice as possible of the future, 
I would prefer a mansion in Pennsyl- 
vania, with trout-fishing, and a lien 
on the other residence. 
ANY fat acres surrounded the 
Judge’s handsome buildings. In 
front a velvet lawn with a few stately 
conifers and a busy fountain; at one 
side, and far in the rear, a grand 
orchard, while at the other side was a 
jungle of wild growths, purposely en- 
couraged to add to the picturesque 
effect. Always pretty and homelike 
upon a broad scale, in June this place 
is a’ perfect dream of beauty. 
Page 197 
From the Outing Library 
By EDWYN SANDYS 
I sat and waited to hear from my 
friends within and without. A_ soft 
gray light made things indistinctly 
visible, and the air was laden with in- 
cense from millions of censers hung in 
orchard trees and flowering shrubs. 
It was good to breathe that air awhile 
and to recall that rock-bound canon of 
a street in Gotham, already shuddering 
with the cursed clamor of milk wagons 
and other instruments of the Devil. 
Here the perfumed peace lay soundless 
over all, and one had naught to do but 
rest and watch the growing light. 
The friends outside spoke first. <A 
thin little whisper of song made a 
brave attempt to break through the 
purple haze of dreamland. The 
“chippy’—the blessed tiny  chippy. 
Season after season his hair-cup has 
occupied the old place in the vines of 
the veranda, and here he was, sleepy, 
but honest over his morning prayers 
—the first of all the feathered host 
to let the spring gladness leak out of 
him. 
E all know and love this dainty 
sparrow, the wee grayish-brown 
bird, which is forever hopping about 
the doorway, a model of cheerful, 
humble industry. His cousin was not 
far behind. A tinkle of sweet music 
from a distant clump of shrubbery be- 
trayed the presence of that brownie 
of hedge and brook, the song-sparrow. 
He rightly is another favorite, for is 
he not the first and bravest of all in 
the telling that spring weather is at 
hand, though snow may cover the 
ground? 
Other sparrows far and near soon 
joined in a merry chorus, and then 
came “Bob” with his louder, cheerier 
greeting. Good old Bob, 
in his dark cutaway and 
well-filled chestnut vest, 
somehow he always re- 
minds me of a fat, jolly 
old farmer, especially 
when he is gravely ex- 
amining the lawn, as though to see 
how the growing things are coming 
on. His always pleasant, although 
somewhat plain whistle, too, is sug- 
gestive of the care-free countryman. 
This particular robin’s song was so 
loud and hearty, that it speedily 
aroused every bird in the neighbor- 
hood—and what a time they had! 
THE plaintive sobbing of the dove 
—that pathetic ‘“coo-a-00-00-00;” 
the queer “kow-kow—kow-kow-kow” of 
the cuckoo; the metallic rasping of the 
grackle; the jolly “kuk-kuk-kuk-kuk- 
kuk” of the flicker; the soft warbling 
of the bluebird; the sharp, hurried 
notes of the yellow warbler; the rich 
whistling of the Baltimore, the merry 
“ricky-tick-tick-tick” of the swift; the 
canary-like voice of the goldfinch; the 
cluck and hiss of the cow bird; the 
rolling croak of the red-headed wood- 
pecker; the high, long- 
drawn whistle of the 
meadow-lark; the reck- 
less jingling of the bobo- 
link—all these and many 
others came to me while 
i dressed. But 
there was one 
other bird for 
which I waited 















nN 
long. iy 
I knew he N j \Y 
was there, 
somewhere in 
that green 
jungle from 
which came 

—- 
ra 
: or aa re ot 
i {lives oral m » eas 

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