
mistake was made in placing the upper stake boat for the 
University Crew, and they were compelled to row nearly 
32 miles. °76, won the race. Time, 24m. 19sec. Univer- 
sity second. Time, 24m. 57sec. °75 last. Time, 27m. 36 
sec. We have recently purchased from Yale two six-oared 
shells, one double shell and two single shells. Our annual 
regatta next June promises to be one of intgrest. 
SOWETI. 
A single scull race for the Southworth Cup, worth $300, 
was the second, there being five contestants. This was the 
most exciting of all, owing to the honor attached to the 
Winning of this beautiful and valuable prize, which was 
won by Cook 76, in 15 minutes 29} seconds, over a two- 
mile course with turn. The next struggle was the barge 
race, in which were four entries, viz. : 74, °75, 77 and 76 
of the Scientifie Department. This was a fine race, and 
won by ’76, 8. 8S. S., in 13 minutes 33 seconds, two miles 
with turn. 
The last race of the day was between the six-oared shell 
crews of *74 and ’67, which afforded a splendid opportu- 
nity to test our new stroke. The ’74 crew, on a general 
average, was older, heavier and stronger than ’76 crew. 
The crew of ’74 had rowed together several weeks while 
76 had had only two days, and this taken up by coaching. 
The two boats were started, 74s taking a good lead on 
their superior strength, but they were gradually gained on, 
quietly passcd and easily defeated in 19 minutes 23} sec- 
onds, over 19 minutes 48} seconds. 
I will just add a list of all the different times of the 
crews : 
Shell Race, Russell's and Hopkins.—Prizes,—Six badges, 
value, $60. 
Single Scull Race—R. J. Cook, 76, 15m. 294s. W. C. 
Hall, 8. 8. 8., 75, 15m. 183s. A. Wilcox, 73, 15m. 384s. 
W. Martin, ’75, 16m. 554s, J. A. Vernon, S. S. S., ’%5, 
17m. 174s. 
Barge Race—Time—’74, 14m. 24%; °75, 13m. 42s. ; 76, 
8. §.5., 18m. 33s. ; °77, 14m. 368s. 
Shell Race—’74, 19m. 483; °76, 19m. 234s. 
Prize for the single Scull Race, Southworth Cup, 
worth $300. 
Prizes for Barge Race, six silver goblets. 
Prizes for Shell Race of ’74 and 76, six gold badges. 
Yours truly, R. J. Evay. 
—Speaking of the next annual College regatta, the 
Amherst Student says :— 
“We begin to look forward to the races of the coming 
year. What are the prospects of a crew? Have we men 
that are, or will make first-class oarsmen? And how are 
finances? are questions which arise in Colleges, which 
have, and have not sent crews to Springfield. But these 
questions cannot be definitely answered, until the Regatta 
Association has held its convention, and announced its rul- 
ing, as to who are eligible for a college crew, and determine 
the place where the next regatta will be held. Oneor more 
of these points are of vital importance to every College, and 
they are not decided until about three months before the 
regatta. It is reasonable to suppose that every College 
would like to be represented at the annual College Regatta, 
and that they may be well represented it is necessary 1o 
commence early, and have men training long beforehand; 
but no man will give up his time to exercising when it is 
very uncertain whether he will be allowed to row, regard- 
less of his capabilities. Some Colleges, doubtless, could 
send a first-class crew, if they were allowed to select their 
men indiscriminately from all the under-graduate depart- 
ments; but would prefer not to send any, rather than a poor 
‘one, which would be their best, picked from one depart- 
ment. Again ten men may have worked steadily in the 
gymnasium for six months, and then when the place for the 
regatta is fixed upon, it is so far away, that the expense of 
sending a crew will be too great. All trouble of this sort 
could easily be avoided, were the Convention held in the 
fall. Sometime in November, would be early enough, and 
by that time Colleges will know where their strength lies, 
and how they want matters arranged, so that everything 
could be settled then, as well as six months later, and it 
would be a great advantage in many ways. As most Col- 
leges have a short recess in the latter part of November, a 
Convention could be held then, and. everything within its 
province settled at that time. As Springfield is the most 
central point, it would be the best place to hold a Conven- 
tion. We hope other Colleges will agree with us, that this 
change is desirable, and aid in carrying it into effect.” 
—The “ Halifax Rowing Club” has just been organized 
at Halifax, Nova Scotia, Chas. F. Vose, President, Peter 
Hogan, Treasurer, Will Craigen, Secretary. 

THE RED RIVER RAFT. 
—$—$ > — 
chee is now a certain prospect that the great raft, 
which has been an obstruction in the Red River, in 
Louisiana, ever since the advent of white men in this coun- 
try, will soon be removed, and that navigation will be 
opened from Shreveport, La., to Jefferson, Texas. The 
history of the raft and the attempts to remove it is exceed- 
ingly interesting. In 1805 the obstruction of logs reached 
one hundred miles. Since that time rafts have formed at 
various points in the river near Shreveport. One of these 
was removed by Captain Shreve in 1830, by the help of a 
Congressional appropriation, and another between 1840 and 
1844, under a government contract by General Williamson. 
In 1851 the raft region extended only twelve miles, and at 
that time Captain Fuller, aided by a Congressional appro- 
priation of $150,000, attempted to remove it. At the end 
of two years, however, the appropriation had been ex- 
hausted and nothing accomplished, and the work being 
abandoned the obstruction began to increase. The present 
raft region extends thirty-five miles, from a point forty 
miles above Shreveport to the Arkansas State line, and 
contained, before the present work commenced, nearly fifty 
rafts, from one-eighth of a mile to a mile in length, and oc- 
cupying the entire width of the river, navigation oniy be- 
ing accomplished through the bayous around the raft, but 
as these were only available at very high water navigation 
“FOREST AND STREAM. 
was insignificant. In 1871 the attention of the Engineer 
ing Department was again directed to this work, and an 
appropriation of $10,000 having been made by Congress, 
the work of preliminary surveying was intrusted to Lieu- 
tenant Woodruff, who completed it in 1872, and submitted 
plans and specifications for the removal of the raft, where- 
upon an appropriation of $150,000 was made. The plans 
were accepted, and Lieutenant Woodruff reached the raft 
region in January last with a snag-boat, two crane-boats, 
and all the requisite machinery for his work. The follow- 
ing description shows the difficulties to be overcome:— 
ogs, roots, and snags of every description had been 
crowded and jammed into a tangled mass, becoming more 
compact each year as the pressure from above increased. 
Annual freshets had brought down mud and deposited it in 
and over this mass until in places the raft itself haa become 
entirely covered with earth, small islands, or “‘tow-heads,” 
thus being formed. Upon these tow-heads were growing 
trees, usually willows, three feet and more in circumfer- 
ence. 
In addition to the removals of logs b sawing and cut- 
ting, blasting powder was used, but it did not prove of any 
use. Dynamite was then tried, but failed, refusing to ex- 
plode even with an electrical exploder. At last nitro-gly- 
cerine was brought into use, and it never failed to do its 
work thoroughly. All that remains to be done now is the 
blowing out o 
weeks. The obstruction of centuries will then have been 
removed by the skill and perseverance of Lieutenant Wood- 
ruff. The saddest part of the record of this great work is 
that Lieutenant Woodruff has not lived to finish it, having 
died of yellow fever at Shreveport October 1st.—Chicago 
Tribune. 
oe oo 
A BUFFALO FIGHT. 
—__¢—__. 
tie challenger advanced from the herd to within some 
four feet, getting angrier and angrier as he came. 
Suddenly there was a crash that had in it something Ho- 
meric. One rattling onset of that kind leaves one in no 
doubt as to why the short stout horns of the buffaloes have 
a splintered appearance at the apices. Then there was a 
long,steady push, in which every tendon of the huge bodies 
of the buffaloes was strained to the utmost. Then there 
was a strategic easing off, then a sudden gladiatorial thrust 
which pressed the huge heads to the ground.in an even bal- 
ance of strength. Neither beast dared relax a muscle or 
retreat an inch, for fear of that fatal charge upon the flank, 
or that dangerous twist of the neck, which means defeat. . 
A momentary relaxation of the tremendous strain only 
resulted in the shaggy heads coming together again with a 
ged pushing which 
dull thump, and a renewal of the dog 
might have moved a freight train. 
lungs and endurance, and the white froth began to drop in 
long, tenacious strings from their lips, and:the red eyes to 
glare dimly through what seemed clots of blood. Icould 
hear the labored breathing where I lay, and see the tendons 
stand out across the thighs and along the thick necks. 
But this dead set of strength could not last always. Every 
moment of time was telling disastrously upon the shorter 
wind and decaying strength of the old crusader, who still 
fought for the loves of his youth. His foot slipped, and 
the intelligence of this slight disaster seemed to reach his 
antagonist quicker than a flash of light. No gladiator ever 
used his advantage more suddenly. There was a huge 
lunge, a sound of horns slipping from each other, a spring 
forward and the horn of the younger bull had made a 
raking upward stroke through his antagonist’s flank. The 
fight now became brisk. Again and again the old one 
turned and tried to make the old stand of head to head, and 
as often his more active antagonist caught him behind the 
shoulder. With the redagony of defeat in his eye, and the 
blood trickling from the long wound in his flanks, he still 
refused to be conquered. With failing strength and limbs, 
which refused any longer to serve him, he finally stood at 
bay, with open mouth and hanging tongue, unable to fight 
and disdaining to retreat. His antagonist pushed him and 
he yielded doggedly. He made no attempt to shield his 
flank, and pitifully endured all that came. The original 
plan of non-interference was abandoned, and the young 
lords gathered around him, and snorted and shook their 
heads, and gave him an occasional dig in the ribs by way 
of expressing their contempt for him. The cows came and 
snuffed at him, and indulged in spiteful feminine butts and 
walked away. Their manner implied that they had always 
regarded him as a disagreeable old muff, and they were 
glad he finally understood their heartfelt sentiments in re- 
gard to him. 
Through all this the old fellow stood unresistingly, 
whipped, but still obstinate. Gradually they all left him 
to himself, and the herd wandered further away. He did 
not even look around; he was probably forced at last to ac- 
cept his sentence of banishment, and go and live as long as 
he could alone, and fight his last fight with the coyotes 
and die. 
————~<e______ 
—The Dean of Westminster haviny issued a circular pro- 
posing to place a memorial window to Cowper and George 
Herbert in Westminster Abbey, Mr. George W. Childs, the 
Philadelphia publisher, asked permission to bear the whole 
cost of the memorial, and his offer has been accepted. 
‘““This generous proposal,” says the London Spectator, 
“‘ shows that kink of love for English literature and genius 
which does infinitely more than mere commercial relations 
to bind the two countries together; and we may at least ad- 
mit that, in this case, an American has quite eclipsed 
English generosity, which seldom goes so far afield in 
search of the opportunity of appreciating kindred merit.” 
‘W HOLESALE— Swell Customer—‘‘ Ya-as, this is neat. 
Augh, I’m wather ‘xtwav’gant ’n ’umbweliahs!—never go 
out without one—somebody’s; and never go home with 
one—anybody’s. Ya-as. Now—ah—what do you charge 
for these by the gwoss?”—[ Punch. 
a 
—When spring comes round, the croquet sets, which 
may be had by subscribing to the Forest anp STREAM, 
will come into. use most opportunely. See advertisement of 
prizes in to-day’s issue. ; 
+e 
—Men of intellect dislike fish; they prefer a meteor 
course. i 
ee ee 
—The forecastle is the sailor’s heaven, his tarry home. 
te 
u some tow-heads and improving certain 
points in the channel, which will be accomplished in a few 
t was a matter of 
237 
Art and Drama. 
REHEARSAL FOR A GRAND 
SUNDAY CONCERT. 

[ITALIAN 

A PEEP BEHIND THE SCENES, 
HARACTERS enter, and although the weather is ex- 
‘ ceedingly warm, they all look as if they were threat- 
ened with a chill; they seem indeed as if they had all been 
suddenly awakened from a sound sleep and stood in a draft 
of cold air. The pianist is behind time, and the basso 
growls in undertones—he only goes down to his lowest notes 
before the footlights. The mild tenor breathes forth scarcely 
perceptible indignation. The soprano, with a shawl over 
her shoulders, that half envelopes her head and the entire 
lower part of her face, shivers out her impatience, and 
then sinks into an old, worn-out easy chair and marks the 
passing moments impatiently with her little foot. A more 
dowdy second-hand, shiftless looking crowd, it would seem, 
never came together. At last the pianist makes his ap- 
pearance. He has a piece of hard biscuit in his hand and 
smells of cheese. Strange as it may seem, he inspires by 
his entree,for his expectant audience enliven at once. Down 
goes the shawl of the soprano, her eyes brighten, she rushes 
up to the piano, turns over a page of music, and is congrat- 
ulated graciously by the basso; compliments as light and 
flimsy as bits of colored paper enliven the air, Then comes 
a momentous silence, and the pianist strikes a chord or 
two, when the pianist, looking at the written music before 
him, discovers he is very near-sighted, and is tediously 
long in getting out his spectacles. Then, to the impatient 
protests, he can’t decipher the many pencil marks “for 
change” that have been put upon the original score. The 
prima donna again assumes a languid position, supporting 
herself, indeed, by the assisting arm of a broken-down 
rocking-chair, The mild tenor aranges on the left, short. 
plump contralto vocalizing over his shoulder; Aldermanic 
basso profundo, bald-headed, striding up and down beating 
an irregular measure with his fists, now fast, then slow, 
upon the various articles of furniture as he passes. 
Basso, with preliminary clearing of his throat, addressing 
pianist with an important tone: ‘I shan’t sing all this, it’s. 
too long. Make a few chords here, then play these bars, 
and join on to this (turning the page). You must play that 
passage by heart, and I shall pin these pages together so 
that you make no mistake, or else good bye to my solo. 
Now—begin.” (Allessay to sing, coming in one after the 
other, then—halt! 
Imperious basso (to pianist): ‘You must compose a 
prelude, so that we all begin together.” (Pianist plays a 
few bars and ends with some chords, and all start again to- 
gether). 
Basso (waving his hand): ‘‘Piano—pianissimo,” Soprano 
faintly hums her part, till becoming excited by some imag- 
inary dramatic action suggested by the words, suddenly 
swells her voice to its full power, and pounds on pianist’s 
shoulders to stimulate his speed, and rushes on with basso 
till the alegro becomes prestissimo. Contralto makes two or 
three futile efforts to chime in, and nervously clutches the 
arm of pianist and produces a rallentendo, when suddenly— 
halt! as bang go basso’s fist and feet, and perspiring co- 
piously, he trots off to the window to ventilate his displeas- 
ure. ‘‘Can’t sing, impossible (turns deprecatingly to ac- 
companist) piano don’t follow. 
Soprano (soothingly): ‘‘Have a little patience. (To accom- 
panist). Never ritardando till you hear us do it. Play this 
chord.” 
Pianist (remonstratingly): ‘‘But its bound.” 
Soprano: ‘‘No matter; we want it p'ayed.” 
Contralto: ‘I can’t sing in this key (to pianist, doubt- 
ingly). You couldn’t transpose this a tone lower?” 
Pianist runs his eye over the music amoment and begins 
in another key—thum, thum, thum, etc., ete, 
All: “That’s it!” 
Music proceeds very smoothly till tenor and contralto have 
a long note to sustain. Pianist keeps time well marked. 
Bass and soprano ecstatic, making roulades, trills and 
bronchial gymnastics ad lib., accompanied by a mimic 
pantomime and prolonging their slow agony—ca-a-a, etc., 
when tenor and contralto simultaneously stop, breathless, 
and soprano’s hands fall like hammers upon the back of 
pianist. General halt. 
Basso (assaulting player): “Slower, slower; have you 
no ear? Listen to me.” 
Pianist: ‘‘Tenor cannot hold that note; I follow him. It 
is the principal part.” 
Mild Tenor: ‘‘Consider the length of that note.” 
“‘Impetuous Basso (in an undertone) ‘“‘No artist. Has no 
heart.” —(aloud) “I have sung in every opera house in the 
world, and always sing this so.” 
Soprano: ‘‘Let’s try from here” (pointing). 
Obstinate Tenor: ‘‘No. The more we sing it the more 
of a muddle we shall make of it. It will go well enough.” 
Basso (contemptuously): ‘‘It don’t go at all.” 
Then commences a grand quarrel, in natural voices, the 
pitch being on decidedly high keys. The astonished list- 
eneris confounded with the query, how so many disagree- 
able and ear-rending notes can come from throats which,a few 
moments before, uttered sounds as solemn as the murmur- 
ings of the Norway pine in a storm, or as do the larks 
when they greet the morning sun. The voices are now de- 
cidedly unmusical, the piano disappears early in the contest, 
but the action is magnificent. The men become Salvinis 
and the women Ristoris, when at the critical moment—the 
moment when blows would seem to be imminent—a waiter 
appears with some cheap wine and lager, the frown disap- 
