























































Terms, Five Dollars a Year. ' 
Ten Cents a Copy. 

NEW YORK, THURSDAY, SEPT. 18, 1873. sf 





{ Volume I, Number 6. 
( 103 Fulton Street. 



For Forest and Stream. 
MEXICAN SCENERY. 
——__e——_— 
IGH on‘a bare, volcanic cliff, 
Above the sailing clouds I stand, 
And gaze o’er many a shining eague 
Of outspread, flowery:Mexic land. 
Beneath me ancient forests lie, 
Their green tops rippled by the breeze, 
Their massive foliage heaves and swells 
Like tumbling billows of the seas. 
So thick they weave their leafy screen, 
That scarce a broken sunbeam falls 
Thro’ the green arches _to illume 
The sombre shadows of their halls, 
And many a grotesque swinging vine, 
Like glittering serpent climbs their tops; 
The cactus twines its color’d crowns, 
The aloe its red garland drops, 
And tropic birds on spangled wings, 
Flit thro’ the fairest openings. 
And here the browsing deer-herds roam; 
Now scouring the extended plain, 
Now lost in arbor of the wild, 
Now wandering by the tumbling main. 
Far thro’ the thick, umbrageous depths, 
The shy wild turkey leads the brood, 
‘And swarms of chattering monkeys sweep 
Along the summits of the wood. 
High soaring in the upper air, 
Vast cones volcanic rise like clouds, 
Each with its vapory flag of smoke, 
That ever the white crown enshrouds; 
The Indian ages long ago, 
Long ere the Spaniard trod the shore, 
With awe beheld these mystic flames, 
And hearken’d to the crater’s roar; 
Dreaming that goblins of the mine, 
With incantations wierd and dark, 
Mingled their orgiesin the gloom 
Of night, and lit each lurid spark. 
Far down, amid the valleys green, 
Soft scenes outspread the fairy land; 
Flowers of gay hue and fragrant smell. 
Broadcast are sown by Nature’s hand: 
All the rich colors that entwine 
The rainbow, here celestial shine, 
Each radiant with eternal bloom, 
Each aromatic with perfume. 
Afar I hear the tinkling bells 
Of the slow caravans ascend; 
And voices of the muleteers, 
In soft, harmonious cadence blend. 
Far off, o'er Guatemala’s plain, 
er peasant huts I see the smokes, 
And from each rustic chapel hear 
The evening bell-chimes’ measur’d strokes. 
And twinkling in the setting sun, 
The distant city glistens white, 
Belfry and cupola sublime, 
Transfigured with the streaming light. - 
: Tsaac McLELLAN. 
A Day with the dlaturalists. 
——_4 
STEAMER BLUE Lieut, ) 
Prak’s Isuanp, Mz., August 16, 1873. | 


Eprror of Forest anp STREAM:— 
I write you from Peak’s Island, a place the existence of 
which is perhaps to you, as it wasto me,not long since, 
unheard of. 
But that was our bad luck. The denizens of Portland 
and of the adjacent towns know, and knew, of it and in 
its evergreen groves seek the relief which its constant, 
eooling breezes and delightful climate offer during the 
“heated term;” for up North and down East though it be, 
Portland does have its ‘‘ heated term,” 
It is easy of access, for a trim little steamer, the Ex- 
press, commanded, clerked, pursered, and steered by a most 
popular captain, makes a number of regular trips daily; 
with great groves of grand pines, and here and there a 
noble elm, furnishing shady, romantic walks and snug 
nooks for resting; with a craggy beach on its further side, 
against which the broad Atlantic drives its billows, and in 
an easterly storm, dashes surf furiously to its highest cliffs; 
with here and there, in the magnificent view seaward, scat- 
tered dots of rocky islets, where, clear from man, the little 
petrel, the gull, and tern make their nests and rear their 
young in safety. Here, at sunrise, one can commune with 
Nature, and hardly realize that within a gunshot, just across 
the belt of pines, civilization is amusing itself. For on 
this side there is a quiet sheltered anchorage where the 
smallest boat can stay secure in the heaviest storms. 
Hach end of the island, two miles apart, is given up to 
merry-making. Restaurants, where, since the Maine law 
took effect, nothing stronger than coffee can be obtained— 
unless the landlord knows you. Strictly temperance houses, 
but if a gentleman wll drink, why, they don’t like to dis- 
appoint him. Swings, rustic seats, croquet grounds, bowl- 
ing alleys, &c., furnish amusement to the crowds of pleas- 
ure seekers who come over to the island for a day’s picnic. 
Sprinkled about among the groves are the white tents of 
many families who scek relaxation in a ‘‘ week’s camping 
out,” with chowder, clams, and fishing ad Uhtum,; and on 
a warm, sunny day, the scene is very cheerful. The woods 
are gay with white frocks and red ribbons; and boys and 
men bedecked with blue flannel shirts with great white 
anchors embroidered on the bosom, (for it is the ‘‘ swell” 
thing here to be ayachtman;) and two boys with a punt and 
shelter tent, are happy in considering that they are yacht- 
ing and camping out. Bands of music and singing parties 
enliven the evening. 
But there is another side to this; now and then a cold 
easterly wind, with its inevitable accompaniments of fog 
and rain, comes upon us, and then, chilled and miserable, 
our gay campers take to their tents, wrap up in rubber, and 
happy if their roof sheds water, solace themselves with 
cards and pipes and pray for a shift of wind, which must 
come sooner or later. In the midst of the last driving 
stcrm, when all nature was clad in dismal gray, trimmed 
with water colors, I accosted a weather-beaten old fisher- 
man with, ‘‘ How long is this thing going to last, Captain?” 
(it’s very safe to call a man ‘‘ Captain’ here—they don’t as- 
pire to General or Judge.) ‘‘ Wall, I guess it’ll tucker out 
after a bit. Inever knowed but one of these sou’easters 
that didn’t come to an end sometime.” ‘‘ Why, when was 
that?” said I. Said he, ‘‘ This one,” and I went my way 
sadly and sold. 
The central parts of the island, though, on its western 
face are as quiet and retired as the ends are gay, and here 
with every facility at its disposal for successful work, the 
United States Fish Commission has established its head- 
quarters for the summer. A large workshop on the wharf 
has been fitted up as a laboratory, the adjacent houses are 
occupied as quarters, and the wharf itself is turned into a 
first class dissecting table, where sharks, sword-fish, skates, 
and other great fishes, surrender their jackets and bones to 
the keen knives of the ‘‘ Doctor” and his pupils. 
And the little ‘‘ Blue Light” lying quietly at her anchors 
of nights, bears daily, either to sea, or into some of the 
many sounds and bays into which Casco Bay is subdivided, 
a party of young men, enthusiastic in the cause of science, 
bound to search out, and with their own eyes see, the mys- 
teries that nature has tried so hard to conceal. 
Clad in many-hued and ancient garments, it is eviden tthat 
“dress” is not their forte. Yet, when on Sunday, a ‘‘ boiled 
shirt, stove-pipe, and frock coat,” take the place of the daily 
costume; and some, quietly writing or working up their 
notes, others filling the pews of. our little church, and some 
even the pulpit, it becomes equally evident that ‘‘ dress” 
isnot an infallible criterion, and that an educated gentleman 
can bring any dress to Ads level and not sink to its, 
These, though, are not the views of a damsel, island- 
born and ‘‘ raised,” who asked me, ‘‘ What is perfessors, 
anyway; and what do they do?” Itold her; she mused, 
and then thoughtfully remarked: ‘* Well they may be smart 
enough, but they don’t dress up much; they’re all married, 
I hear—I don’t think much of ’em, anyhow.” 
She thinks better of them now, though, since one Sunday 
evening, when a “ perfessor,” hearing her really magnificent 
voice raised in a grand old hymn tune, with melodeon ac- 
companiment, went into the kitchen and joined his fine 
bass to her soprano. 
again. 
Armed and loaded with trawls and dredges, harpoons 
and fishing gear, at 9 A.M. the Blue Light sounds her 
whistle, and runs in by the dock, and then a string of hur- 
rying men, with green buckets and scoop nets, bottles and 
sieves, take possession, and away we go, if it is a fair 
smooth day, right out to sea, till the color of the water pro- 
claims deep soundings. Then in sixty to seventy fathoms 
of water we go to work to find what sort of bottom is there, 
what sort of fish, what sorts of animal life. 
The lead shows soft bottom, and over goes the trawl, 
a large bag net, with a beam some ten or twelve feet long 
across its mouth, fastened at each end to an iron runner. 
This machine is strung with a bridle to which is attached 
a towing line, and is lowered to the bottom. A good scope 
is given to the line, which is led in through sheaves on an 
iron crane to the drum of a small windlass on the forecastle 
of the steamer. When ready, the ship is backed slowly, 
and the trawl drags along the bottom. It may catch on some 
unexpected obstacle, and perhaps be broken and torn to 
pieces. A simple contrivance, however, obviates much of 
the danger. When the tow-line, a three-inch hemp rope, is 
paid out its proper length, a piece of small rope is fastened 
to it just outside the outer sheave, and then the towing line 
is slacked out until all of the strain comes upon the small 
line, which is made fast inboard. A good lookout is kept, 
and should the trawl catch, the small line will break; im- 
mediately the engine is stopped and reversed, the larger line 
is slacked out, and before any damage can take place, the 
vessel has moved ahead toward the trawl, which is imme- 
diately hauled in for examination. Steam here saves hands, 
and our little deck engine soon roundsin a hundred fathoms, 
and the big net comes to the surface, is gathered inboard, and 
its contents dumped out upon the deck for investigation. 
And a motley collection it sometimes presents. In its 
pockets odd fish such as flounders and skates are entangled, 
and among its meshes strange crabs and starfish; while 
from the closely netted pouch tumble out anemones, sea 
urchin’, and shrimps, with no end of varieties of crustacea 
and mollusks. 
Once we brought up a great rock fully six hundred pounds 
in weight, and our little engine had to puff hard to get it 
safely up. Its presence in a soft mud plain, as the bottom 
here seems to be, some three hundred feet from the surface, 
was an anomaly, but probably ages ago it was torn from 
its birth place in the frozen north, and slowly drifted to the 
southward by an iceberg, until melting clear, it dropped, 
and there has lain, while countless generations of terra 
brachalinw and other inhabitants of deep cold water have 
made it their resting place and home. A bottom tempera- 
ture of 37°, while at the surface the mercury stood at 63°, 
seems to confirm my idea that we have struck here a little 
branch of an Arctic current. We have found here in this 
cold water belt several specimens that have before been 
supposed to exist no nearer to our coast than on the Georges 
Banks in 400 fathoms depth. 
The dredge isa smaller and stronger apparatus, on the 
same principle, and is used on stony bottoms where the 
trawl would be torn and cut to pieces. It is a strong net 
bag that will hold two bushels, made fast to a pair of flat 
iron jaws; this is also dragged, but at a less degree of speed, 
When either is brought to the deck it is an amusing sight 
to see both professors and non-professors gather eagerly 
about the mouth, and as the contents emerge forty fingers 
go poking and picking at the heap; and the worms and 
clams, if not already as indignant as their nature will per- 
mit at the rough usage they have received, most certainly 
must become so, could they.but hear and understand the 
hard names they are called. ‘‘Myra aranaria,” sings out 
a voice, and a poor clam finds himself bucketed. ‘‘Asterius 
vulgaris,” “ calista convera,” nereus,” are called out rapidly, 
and the note taker puts them down, and a little white shell, 
a starfish, a clam, (to ordinary eyes,)and a big red worm 
are popped into bottles. 
Or perhaps we have struck mud bottom, and the dredge 
comes up witha quarter ton of it: To an unscientific eye it 
seems of no value; but wait a bit; the load is emptied inta 
That Perfessor never got cold coffee 
