train into town, one of them called after the flying journalist :

"Sure you got all the scores ?"

Stopping in his mad flight, the ignorant one glanced hastily over his notes, and turned back.

"I knew I'd forgotten something," he declared, "I haven't got any mixed singles here."

The chorus of amusement that greeted this break, convinced the cause of it that he must hurry to catch his train, and he disappeared rapidly from the grounds. Another man was assigned from his paper to cover the matches the next day.

*

While hunting deer in one of the western states one fall, the writer came to a road through the timber just as a woodman with a load of lumber drove by. Accepting the invitation of a "lift," I was soon resting my weary limbs under the man's comfortable lap robes. We had gone less than a mile when we saw an Indian sitting on the shore of a small lake watching for deer. We stopped and spoke to him for a few moments, and I noticed that he had a 40-82 rifle.

Driving on we were scarcely out of sight, when we heard a rifle-shot, and a shrill "who-oo-oop"- the last note long-drawnout echoed through the forest, while a wild-looking Indian burst through the bushes, his long hair flying, and his arms waving frantically as he came down the road. The driver pulled up to wait for him. Who-oo-oop! 40-82 son-of-a-gun! I shoot myself! I shoot myself! Whooo-oop!

66

He was a truthful Indian; for as we helped him on the load-he was too frightened to climb without help-I discovered that there was a hole through his left hand from which the blood flowed freely. As the team started, his lamentations broke out afresh :

66

Who-oo-oop! 40-S2 son-of-a-gun! I shoot myself! I shoot myself! Who-oo-oop!"

The "shivers" caused by the last "oop" had not ceased to chase one another down my spinal column, when answering "oops" came from a camp near by, and a flock of sympathetic squaws swarmed down upon us, carried off our patient without a thank you," and disappeared campward. But as we passed a turn in the road, a final "who00-00p! 40-82 son-of-a-gun! Who-oo-oop!" came faintly to us, and the forest stillness closed over the semi-tragedy.

After the big Yale-Princeton football game in New York last November, the city streets were filled with howling Princeton sympathizers and dismal-looking Yale men. Up and down Broadway they promenaded, arm-in-arm, the sympathizers of the orangeand-black hilarious over their victory, and

Many of the lakes in Central Wisconsin afford excellent opportunities for spearing fish, having around their edges a peculiar shelf or ledge where the water is from two to five feet deep, over a bottom of white sand.

Early last spring, two enthusiastic fishermen, father and son, were out for sport. The pond they were fishing in was very deep, but had the usual ledge running around its edge. It ended, however, very abruptly, and the practice was to paddle along just beyond the edge of the shelf. The son was paddling while the father stood erect in the bow of the boat, intently searching the bottom for fish.

The fishermen were so deeply interested that neither noticed a pine-tree that had fallen at the edge of the pond, its top in the water. The gradual process of decay had stripped the small branches off, leaving the long, slender stem of the tree lying slightly under the surface of the water. In following the course indicated, the bow of the boat came in contact with the extreme end of this stem. It bent readily until the increasing strain overcame the momentum of the boat, when the reaction took place, and the boat shot backward like an arrow from a bow. The spearman took a beautiful header into the water, disappearing completely from the view of the astonished son. Instead of betraying any excitement or solicitude for his lost parent, the latter calmly awaited his reappearance.

In the course of time, the gray head bobbed up, spouting and blowing, and teeth chattering. Whereupon, the dutiful son calmly greeted the head with a fisherman's anxious query: "Did you git 'im, pa?"

THE UNUSUAL

SLAUGHTER of game in several states during the season just ended makes it evident that more stringent measures are imperative if we would prevent the complete extermination of many game birds and animals, now rapidly decreasing in numbers. While it may seem like a hardship to the epicure to prevent absolutely the sale of game, yet if it is done, the pot-hunter and the epicures who encourage his depredations on the game, will have brought it about. If the

hotels and restaurants in the large cities served game only in its lawful season, half the occupation of the market-hunter would be gone. If no other remedy is discovered, an absolute prohibition of the sale of game will be necessary for its preservation, as has already been legislated in Michigan, Ohio and Montana, where the sale of quail and grouse is unlawful; in Illinois and Wyoming, where only such game as is killed in other states may be sold; and in Florida, where game cannot be sold outside of the county in which it is killed. Since

the methods of those who cater to men who will pay any price at any season for game, threaten an extermination that would be a national loss, then it is time for some action to be taken that will preserve for coming generations some token that we did not think only of ourselves and our appetites.

T IS IMPOSSIBLE TO CONCEIVE how men of intelligence, who have had the advantage of civilized and enlightened surroundings, should find sport in what seems too despicable for any but the most degraded savages. Even among them, it is doubtful if any but boys would find excitement in punching two tame and spiritless bears out of cages, and shooting them down before the helpless creatures could attempt to escape. Yet six men, "gentlemen of sporting proclivities," one account calls them, assembled at Schuetzen Park, Union Hill, N. J., about a month ago, to take part in a "hunt" of this description. Deer were also caged, and in readiness for a similar slaughter. Fortunately, the au

thorities broke up the "sport" after only one of the bears had been killed by the valorous "hunters." Such disgraceful amusements do more to bring honest sport into bad repute than can possibly be estimated. No words are strong enough to express the contempt in which such men are held by true sportsmen.

*

VERILY, THESE ARE DAYS of won

der for the devotee of competitive sports! Records seem to fall like grain before the reaper's scythe, and old Father Time is rapidly being distanced in his endless race with humanity. The very latest sensa. tions are Wefers' reported 98 and 30% seconds for one and three-hundred-yard dashes respectively, and Barrow's astounding claim for a mile by bicycle in 588 seconds. With the two-minute trotting horse down to within a fraction of a second of his ambition; the one-minute wheelman rapidly approaching his ideal, and the even-time sprinter apparently outclassing himself, even these phenomenal claims receive some credence, though the conservative are not unreasonable in being somewhat skepticalparticularly as to the bicycle mile-in regard to the accuracy of the performances reported.

HROUGH THE RECENT DEATH

Conn,, the fraternity of sportsmen throughout the world, has lost a kindly friend and generous patron. While visiting New York on business just prior to the holidays, Mr. Lyman was stricken at his hotel with pneumonia, and survived the attack only a day or two. He was a man of wealth, culture and refinement, and an ardent sportsman. As a manufacturer of rifle and revolver sights, his name is known in every country on the globe where firearms are used, and certainly no man has given to sportsmen a greater number of valuable devices and inventions in these delicately-constructed articles of a sportsman's equipment, than has he. Mr. Lyman

FEATURE has been added

this month to the columns of THE SPORTSMAN'S MAGAZINE, and we hope it will prove a welcome one to our friends. In this new department, all books for sportsmen will be reviewed" by sportsmen and for sportsmen." It is not intended that this column shall be conducted in the interest of the book publisher, but rather for the reader; and our special staff of writers will critically consider each book received by us for exactly what it is worth. We shall not hesitate to give an honest opinion on any book, good or bad, and the sportsman who reads this column regularly will get a faithful impression of all new books before adding any of them to his library. There are altogether too many poor books on sports and too few good ones, and it is the mission of this department to help sportsmen to discriminate between the good and the bad.

"To See Ourselves as Others See Us."

IT

T IS ALWAYS flattering to be complimented on good work, and THE SPORTSMAN'S MAGAZINE has been particularly favored in this respect. Readers from all over the country have sent in letters of approbation, and the press has been equally kind in reviewing our Christmas Number. We would like to have all our readers “see ourselves as others see us," and we quote here extracts from a few of these letters:

"I think the Christmas Number of THE SPORTSMAN'S MAGAZINE is far ahead of anything in the line of sporting magazines that has yet appeared. It is on good paper, carefully printed, and the reading matter is of a character calculated to thoroughly interest all who pursue any branch of sport. The articles are diverse in character and are written in an easy, popular style that cannot fail to win you many friends. Your cover is indeed, an attractive one."-FREDERICK J. HARRISON, New York City.

"Yesterday I saw for the first time your magazine, the November number. It is as neat looking, and the most interesting of its kind, I ever have seen."-C. B. LANDLETT, Council Bluffs, Iowa.

"You send us but one copy of the magazine, and we think we are entitled to two, else you should not make it so attractive. The writer enjoys reading the number very

much, but Mr. Smith does also, and the writer did not have a chance to glance at the last number."-GEORGE LIVERMORE, of the Ithaca Gun Co., Ithaca, N. Y.

"Your Christmas Number is a beautiful book. I thank you for it. It gives me pleasure to think that my brothers will find time to do this monthly justice, so I wish you would let them each have a six-months taste of your goods. I enclose two dollars for the meal."-F. TILDEN BROWN, M. D., New York City.

"I ran up against your splendidly-written magazine this month for the first time, and really it is a treat to read such excellent stories on sporting matters."-THOS. H. BULLOCK, Chicago, Ill.

"I am very much pleased with your magazine. I am sure no sportsman will be without it, after reading one number. I anticipate a bright future for you."-A. B. F. KINNEY, Worcester, Mass.

"I have read your last two issues, and now think I have found what I have always wanted—an ideal paper.”—HEATLY GREEN, Syracuse, N. Y.

"I have received the sample copy sent me, and would say that I am buying every number as issued. I do not wish to flatter you, but must say that to my mind yours is without exception, the best magazine published."-EDWARD P. KREMER, Lebanon, Pa.

"The congratulatory hand is too seldom extended in this world, no matter how deserving of praise an individual or an undertaking may be; and when you and your associates place before the sporting community of the country, such a clean work as is the magazine which you are conducting, I, for one, think that you deserve the thanks of every man who is a lover of legitimate sport, and therefore, take this opportunity for extending mine, with the hope that all the success to which a purely sporting journal is entitled, may be yours."-JOHN D. PEABODY, M. D., Omaha, Neb.

"I received some few days ago a copy of your magazine from a friend, and was so much interested in it that I read it all through (something unusual). I shall wait the arrival of your Christmas Number and all the others with deep interest."-R. H. G. MURPHY, Brooklyn, N. Y.

"In my estimation, THE SPORTSMAN'S MAGAZINE is the best publication of its kind, and will certainly make friends wherever it is seen. It can't help it with its present high standard."-F. P. SMITH, Spokane, Wash.

If all these people think so well of THE SPORTSMAN'S MAGAZINE, it really must have some merits. Don't you think so? See our special offer on page LXXX, in which fourteen issues of the MAGAZINE are offered for the price of one year's subscription.

REVIEWED

By Sportsmen and for

Sportsmen.

"Ocean Ichthyology," the Deep Sea Fishes.

TH

HE Government Printing office in Washington, has recently published a most elaborate volume on Ocean Ichthyology, a treatise on the deep sea and pelagic fishes of the world (with an atlas containing 417 figures), by George Brown Goode, Ph. D. L.L. D., assistant secretary of the Smithsonian Institute and in charge of U. S. National Museum; and Tarleton H. Bean, M D., M. S., director of the New York Aquarium. This profound work must ever be a fitting monument to the late Professor Goode, whose recent death has so deeply affected the world of science. From 1871 until 1895, this patient investigator, assisted by the late Professor Baird, Dr. Bean and numerous others, fished, studied, compared, annotated; and the result of his years of labor is given to the world in the vast mass of valuable information contained in this special bulletin.

The authors do not claim to have brought forward in this volume any conclusions new to science, though a great number of facts are doubtless recorded there for the first time. They endeavored, and with gratifying success, to bring the information they themselves possessed into its proper relationship with the mass of similar knowledge already recorded.

The study of ocean ichthyology is only beginning; yet many remarkable results have been reached. Though not more than six hundred kinds of fishes have been obtained from depths greater than one thousand feet, it would seem as if a very good idea of the character of the fauna has already been acquired. It appears that fishes are constantly being rediscovered in most widelyseparated localities.

It

The book of plates that accompanies this treatise is a masterpiece of its kind. will be invaluable not alone to methodical men of science, for a glance through its pages shows that the enterprising newspaper "space writer" has already drawn upon it for material with which to illustrate his sea-serpent stories, and there are yet great possibilities in that field. The cut of

"Ranch Life and the Hunting Trail." From the press of the Century Company comes Ranch Life and the Hunting Trail, by Theodore Roosevelt. This is a republication, but coming from a sportsman and author so well-known, it will receive much attention from hunters, and those who are interested in the novel and picturesque character of the cowboy and the cattlemen, will find much that is pleasing in Mr. Roosevelt's faithful description. The cattle country has been treated in an almost historic manner; the author carries the reader into the quaint ranch life of the West with an ease that makes him revel, for the time, in the glories of the mud-chinked cabins and humble fare, until the song of the meadow lark is the sweetest sound in the world. It is to be regretted, however, that some tales of "bad men,' together with one or two illustrations of their escapades, all of which would be more appropriate in a history of the early days of Deadwood or Helena, were not omitted.

But the sportsman will be more interested in following Mr. Roosevelt in pursuit of the big-horn sheep, the white goat or the pronghorn; and no reader who has hunted in the West will question the accuracy of scene or incident. The author has gone even further than merely to narrate his hunting experiences, for the game that he hunts is also classified from the standpoint of the naturalist. In his big-game hunting, Mr. Roosevelt used a 45-90-300 rifle, but as to make, he wisely remarks: "The truth is that all good modern rifles are efficient weapons; it is the man behind the gun that makes the difference."

The book is pleasing to the eye, and special efforts in this direction have been made in having it illustrated by Frederick Remington, but it will be regretted by those familiar with the later work of this clever

artist, to note that the illustrations are from his earlier drawings made many years ago, and do not approach his present standard. This book is worthy of a place in any sportsman's library. Rollin E. Smith.

Sport "In and Beyond the Himalayas.” In and Beyond the Himalayas, by S. J. Stone, is a very readable work on sport in a region, and after game animals little known to American sportsmen. The book consists of a number of articles which were originally published in the Asian," the only sporting paper published in India, and is a record of the adventures of a hardworked Indian official during his vacations. The writer, starting from Astor, the frontier town of Kashmir, made his way to the haunts of the màrkhor, (capra megaceros) in the most inaccessible fastnesses of the Himalaya mountains. After many narrow escapes and infinite hardships that made even his shikaris wilt, he succeeded in bagging three of these superb brutes. Some idea of this magnificent game may be formed by the dimensions of the horns of one specimen that fell before Mr. Stone's rifle, which are given as follows: Length of horns around curves, forty-seven inches; girth at base, eleven and one-fourth inches; divergence at the tips, twenty-six and threequarter inches. Several specimens of the ibex were also shot on this expedition, but the brown bears appear to have afforded only indifferent sport.

It is to be regretted that the illustrations are not as good as the text, but as a whole the book is well worth reading. The artist's conception of his subjects is good, but the execution of the work is poor.

"Angling," Magazine Fish Stories Reprinted.

Angling is a republication in book form of articles by Leroy M. Yale, J. G. A. Creighton, A. R. MacDonough, A. Foster Higgins, Robert Grant, Alexander Cargill, and Charles Frederick Holder, all of which appeared originally in the pages of Scribner's Magazine. The most disappointing part of the book is its title. This is so comprehensive that the reader is apt to feel that

"The American Boys' Book of Sport."

The love of outdoor sport is deeply imbedded in the hearts of the American youth, and Messrs. Chas. Scribners' Sons have incurred the everlasting gratitude of a legion of little men throughout America who are fond of athletic pastimes, by giving them D. C. Beard's book of games for boys. Those of us who remember "Every Boy's Book" of our youth, will find in the "American Boys' Book of Sport" an excellent substitute for that volume of everlasting youthful delight. It includes concise directions for almost every game and pastime that the ingenuity of boys has invented. The 496 pages of the volume are well printed and intelligently illustrated by diagrams. Once over sixteen years of age, however, and the book is outgrown, for it is intended for schoolboys only.

*

J. Parmly Paret.

營

"Hunting," Magazine Articles Reprinted.

Charles Scribner's Sons have recently republished, under the collective title of Hunting, a number of articles on big-game sport taken from back numbers of Scribner's Magazine. With one or two exceptions, the writers are all practical sportsmen, but while interesting, the lover of big-game shooting will find little in this book that is new, or that will aid him in the pursuit of sport at the present day. The articles on mountain sheep, elk, bear and buffalo are of value only as showing how plentiful these animals were many years ago. Those on sport in New Brunswick, and hunting musk ox are fresh and pleasing; but the conservative reader will be slow to believe that the mounted hunter who pursues the kangaroo is in danger of having the game "leap upon the horse's haunches, seize the rider about the neck from behind, and drag him from his seat."

The general make-up of the book is good, but the illustrations are poor.

Rollin E. Smith.

search, he fails to discover much, if any, angling. The articles on the land-locked salmon of Lake St. John and the superb Nipigon, that queen of northern rivers, are interesting, as is also a chapter on the stupid bass, by A. F. Higgins. "Getting Out the Fly Books" and "Izaak Walton are merely attempts at rehashing worn-out subjects. These articles add bulk to the volume, but hardly increase its value.

The book is not a poor one, but to be worthy of its title, it should be very much better. Charles A. Bramble.

department can be had through THE SPORTSMAN'S MAGAZINE at the regular publisher's prices. On the next page will be found a list of books from which any sportsman could select a complete library. New books for sportsmen will be received and added to this list each month as they are published, and our readers can always secure them at publisher's prices through To yearly subscribers of THE SPORTSMAN'S MAGAZINE, we will supply any of these books at 20 per cent. discount from the regular price. See special offer on page

us.

LXXX.