Peele, Olt oan DF sB OPN). *S'O. Col Belay ca 
nection with the Arboretum there will be a fine reference 
library, in which plant lore will be the predominating objective. 
On the wall of the history room in a great school, in North- 
ern New York, built by another Chicago man for the purpose 
of furnishing a rural community proper education, there hangs 
a tablet on which is inscribed the following sentiment: 
“Constantly search your mind for its best thoughts, culti- 
vate your highest ideals, for without vision the people perish.” 
The vision of such men as Joy Morton, W. H. Miner, and the 
founder of the Smithsonian Institution, when accompanied by 
the ability to carry out their ideals, puts the people of the 
United States under a lasting obligation of grateful apprecia- 
tion. 
The Morton estate is a favorite breeding ground for Vesper 
Sparrows, Bobolinks, Dickcissels and in a secluded field a pair 
of the rather rare Lark Sparrow was found in July. Killdeers 
and Sandpipers found the shores of the artificial lake very much 
to their liking, and showed their appreciation of the protection 
afforded by being very tame, only flying a short distance when 
flushed. 
ORPHEUS MOYER SCHANTZ 
The Sport of the Superior Being 
We print, without comment, a copy of the letter which was 
sent to the Chicago Evening Post, on September 10, 1921. 
The Editor of The Chicago Evening Post, 
Dear Sir:- 
A great many good people are joyous these days to have 
another shot at the partridge, the American pheasant, and the 
noblest bird of our Northern woods—perhaps the last one. The 
bird is reported plentiful in the woods of Wisconsin, but this is 
not true everywhere. 
On our way home, the other day, a business man, who de- 
lighted to shoot partridges, said to me, “Judging by the hundreds 
that are going to hunt the partridge, there won’t be a single bird 
left to tell the tale.” 
A week before we left our cabin in the Northern woods we 
had the pleasure of a visit from a foreigner. One day after 
tramping through the forest, he was touched by the silence of 
them. ‘Your woods are beautiful, but dead!’”’ he exclaimed, 
“there is not a living thing in them.” I told him that years ago 
these woods were very much alive, but just as our noble forests, 
so their denizens were ruthlessly destroyed. 
The tiger kills when he is hungry; the Indian killed for food; 
but white man, who thinks himself a superior being, kills for 
lust and pleasure. 
JENS JENSEN 
