Almost any kind of wood will burn when it is dry

Almost any kind of wood will burn when it is dry, but it takes
experience to know the kinds of trees that will burn when they are
green. If there is no dry wood in the neighbourhood, and we are
obliged to cut a tree down to get our supply, it is very important to
pitch our camp somewhere near the right kind of a tree and not be
obliged to carry our firewood a long distance. The best “green wood”
for the campers fire is hickory, although birch is excellent. Hickory
is also the best dry wood. Other trees that will burn well when green
are cedar, white ash, locust or white oak. There are comparatively few
places, however, where dry wood is not available and of course it is
always best to avoid such a place.
3. The camp site should be in a fairly open spot. Thick woods and
underbrush are either hot or “damp” cool. If you can find a site that
is shaded during the heat of the day so much the better. It is unwise
to pitch the tent under a tree that stands alone on account of
possible danger from lightning. If your tent is shaded by a tree be
sure there are no dead limbs to blow off and wreck it during a storm.
Be sure that the drainage is good, so that in case of heavy rains, the
water will run off and not flood the camp. It is very important if
your camp is along some river or stream to be high enough to avoid the
danger of sudden floods. This can usually be determined by talking to
some one who knows the country. You can also tell it by studying the
previous high water marks in the trees. In case of floods there are
always some wisps of straw, pieces of brush, etc., caught and held by
the limbs of trees after the water settles back to its former level.
It is a good chance to practise your woodcraft by trying to find them.
Damp locations are very bad. The higher we can get, the drier it will
be. We avoid both fogs and mosquitoes. Usually there is some prominent
place that will give us a good outlook and where the breezes can reach
us.
There are both good and bad points in pitching our tent on the site of
a former camp. As long as the former campers have not scoured the
surrounding neighbourhood for firewood nor have left a place littered
up with all sorts of rubbish and garbage to draw flies and vermin,
they may have fixed up things around the camp site to save us work and
to add to our comfort and pleasure. Each case will have to be decided
on its own merits.
[Illustration: A wall tent]
The three important things then are the water supply, the firewood
supply, and good drainage.
Next in importance to the camp site is the outfit, and the most
important thing is the tent. For a party of four boys on their first
camping trip, the best kind will be Chara Vs Brashear Mar 3, 2008 a wall tent. A tent, 11 x 14 feet
will be large enough to provide sleeping quarters and to have every
one comfortable. A simple shelter of canvas outside can be provided
as a dining-room but this is more of a luxury than a real necessity.
Canvas or duck is the common material from which tents are made. The
standard eight-ounce khaki duck used in the United States army will,
for this size tent, cost about twenty dollars. This will include a
fly, which is merely a second roof to the tent. The best material for
tents is balloon silk. It is much more waterproof than canvas and only
weighs a quarter as much. It is also much more expensive. A tent can
be made at home, which is of course the cheaper way. They can also be
hired from previous campers or from some awning maker who is also
usually a tent maker.
A canvas tent without a fly will leak in a rain storm if the roof is
touched on the inside either by our hands or our clothing. It may be
made partially waterproof by a coating of paraffine which has been
previously dissolved in turpentine. The simplest and at the same time
the warmest tent for an experienced camper who knows the tricks of the
trade is a leanto tent, one with one side entirely open, in front of
which a blazing fire may be kept burning. This is hardly adapted for
boys on their first trip, however.

The habits of a cat are unclean

The habits of a cat are unclean, its unearthly cries at night are
extremely disagreeable and altogether it is a nuisance. A famous
naturalist, Shaler, once said “A cat is the only animal that has been
tolerated, esteemed and at times worshipped without having a single
distinctly valuable quality.”
A few years ago a quail had a nest under a rock opposite my house.
Quail raise their young like poultry rather than like robins or wrens
or the other song birds. As soon as the tiny quail chicks are hatched,
the mother takes them around like a hen with a brood of chickens. This
mother quail was my especial care and study. She became so tame that I
could feed her. Finally she hatched out ten tiny brown balls of
feathers. Our cat had been watching her, too, but not from the same
motives and one day the cat came home with the mother quail in her
mouth. She ran under the porch just out of reach and calmly ate it.
The little brood were too small to look out for themselves so of
course they all died or fell an easy victim to other cats. The mother
was probably an easy prey because in guarding the young, a quail will
pretend to have a broken wing and struggle along to attract attention
to her and away from her little ones, who scurry to high grass for
safety. I have never been very friendly to cats since I witnessed this
episode.
It has been estimated that the average domestic cat kills an average
of one song bird a day during the season when the birds are with us.
In certain sections a cat has been known to destroy six nests of
orioles, thrushes and bobolinks in a single day. The worst offenders
are cats that live around barns and old houses in a half wild
condition. Many people who say they “havent the heart to kill a cat”
will take it away from home and drop it along the road. A thoughtless
act like this may mean the death of a hundred birds in that
neighbourhood. It takes less heart to kill the cat than to kill the
birds. So much for the cat.
[Illustration: A bird house]
Birds make splendid pets, but in keeping them in captivity, we must be
sure that we are not violating the game laws of the state we live in.
Nearly everywhere it is unlawful to keep in cages any native song
birds or those that destroy harmful insects–the so-called
Pavel Nedved “insectivorous birds.” This includes thrushes, wrens, robins,
bluebirds, orioles or, in fact, practically all birds but crows,
blackbirds and kingfishers. It does not cover canaries, parrots, or
any birds that are not native. It is an excellent law and every boy or
girl should act as a special policeman to see that his friends and
companions do not molest either birds or their nests. It is cruel to
cage a wild bird anyway for a cage is nothing but a prison. There is
no law against taming the birds or making friends of them and after
all this is the most satisfactory way.
If we build houses for the birds to nest in, provide feed for them and
in other ways do what we can to attract them, they will soon learn
that we are their friends. We must study their habits and always avoid
frightening them. Next to a cat, the worst enemies of our song birds
are the English sparrows. A sparrow is always fair game for the boy
with a slingshot or rifle. In many places these sparrows have driven
practically all the other birds out of the neighbourhood, have robbed
their nests and in other ways have shown themselves to be a public
nuisance. Until 1869 there were no sparrows in this country and now
they are more numerous than any other variety of birds, and sooner or
later, the Government will have to take steps to exterminate them or
we shall have no song birds at all.

And to chase the bounding roe

And to chase the bounding roe.”
“But,” said he, “Ive no rifle.”
“Ive got four.”
“Ive no fishing rod.”
“Ive half a dozen at your service.”
“Give me your hand,” said he; “Im with you.” And so the doctor was
booked.
“Suppose,” said the doctor, “we beat up Smith and Spalding, and take
them along. Smith has got one of his old fits of the hypo. He sent for
me to-day, and. I prescribed a frugal diet and the country. Wild
game, and bleeding by the musquitoes, will do him good. Spalding is
entitled to a holiday, for hes working himself into dyspepsia in this
hot weather.”
“Just the thing;” I replied, and we started to find Smith and
Spalding. We found them, and it was settled that they should go with
us for a month among the mountains. Everybody knows Smith, the
good-natured, eccentric Smith; Smith the bachelor, who has an income
greatly beyond his moderate expenditures, and enough of capital to
spoil, as he says, the orphan children of his sister. By way of saving
them from being thrown upon the cold world with a fortune, he declares
he will spend every dollar of it _himself_, simply out of regard for
_them_. But Smith will do no such thing, and the tenderness with which
he is rearing the two beautiful, black-eyed, raven-haired little
girls, proves that he will not. But Smith has no professional calling
or business, and when his digestion troubles him, he has visions of
the alms-house, and the Potters Field, and of two mendicant little
girls, while his endorsement would be regarded as good at the bank for
a hundred thousand dollars.
Spalding, as everybody within a hundred leagues of the capitol knows,
is a lawyer of eminence, full of good-nature, always cheerful, always
instructive; a troublesome opponent at the bar; a man of genial
sympathies and a big heart. If I have given him, as well as Smith, a
_nom de plume_, it is out of regard for their modesty. We arranged to
meet at the cars, the next morning at six, each with a rifle and
fishing rod, to be away for a month among the deer and the trout,
floating over lakes the most beautiful, and along rivers the
pleasantest that the sun ever shone upon.
CHAPTER II.
HURRAH! FOR THE COUNTRY!
Hurrah! Hurrah! We are in the country–the glorious country! Outside
of the thronged streets; away from piled up bricks and mortar; outside
of the clank of machinery; the rumbling of carriages; the roar of the
escape pipe; the scream of the steam whistle; the tramp, tramp of
moving thousands on the stone sidewalks; away from the heated
atmosphere of the city, loaded with the smoke and dust, and gasses of
furnaces, and the ten thousand manufactories of villainous smells. We
are beyond even the meadows and green fields. We are here alone with
nature, surrounded by old primeval things. Eric Crouch Long Touchdown Run Tall forest trees, mountain
and valley are on the right hand and on the left. Before us,
stretching away for miles, is a beautiful lake, its waters calm and
placid, giving back the bright heavens, the old woods, the fleecy
clouds that drift across the sky, from away down in its quiet depths.

Neil grinned

Neil grinned, then–
“By the way,” he said, “did I tell you Id heard from Crozier?”
“About Billy and the ducks? And Gordons not going back to Hillton? Yes,
you got that at the beach; remember?”
“So I did. Old Cro will be up to his ears in trouble pretty soon,
wont he? Im glad they made him captain, awfully glad. I think he can
turn out a team thatll rub it into St. Eustace again just as you did
last year.”
“Yes; and Gardiners going to coach again.” Paul smiled reminiscently.
Then, “By Jove, it does seem funny not to be going back to old Hillton,
doesnt it? I suppose after a while a fellowll get to feeling at home
here, but just at present–” He sighed and shook his head.
“Wait until college opens to-morrow and we get to work; we wont have
much time to feel much of anything, I guess. Practise is called for four
oclock. I wonder–I wonder if well make the team?”
“Why not?” objected Paul. “If I thought I wouldnt I think Id pitch it
all up and–and go to Robinson!” He grinned The Calgary Flames Celebrate Jarome Iginlas 804th Game across at his chum.
“You stay here and youll get a chance to go _at_ Robinson; thats a
heap more satisfactory.”
“Well, Im going to make the varsity, Neil. Ive set my heart on that,
and what I make up my mind to do I sometimes most always generally do.
Im not troubling, my boy; Ill show them a few tricks about playing
half-back thatll open their eyes. You wait and see!”
Neil looked as though he was not quite certain as to that, but said
nothing, and Paul went on:
“I wonder what sort of a fellow this Devoe is?”
“Well, Ive never seen him, but we know that hes about as good an end
as there is in college to-day; and I guess hes bound to be the right
sort or they wouldnt have made him captain.”
“Hes a senior, isnt he?”
“Yes; hes played only two years, and they say hes going into the Yale
Law School next year. If he does, of course hell get on the team there.
Well, I hope hell take pity on two ambitious but unprotected
freshmen and–”
There was a knock at the study door and Paul jumped forward and threw it
open. A tall youth of twenty-one or twenty-two years of age stood in
the doorway.
“Im looking for Mr. Gale and Mr. Fletcher. Have I hit it right?”
“Im Gale,” answered Paul, “and thats Fletcher. Wont you come in?” The
visitor entered.
“My names Devoe,” he explained smilingly. “Im captain of the football
team this year, and as you two fellows are, of course, going to try for
the team, I thought wed better get acquainted.” He accepted the squeaky
rocking-chair and allowed Paul to take his straw hat. Neil thought hed
ought to shake hands, but as Devoe made no move in that direction he
retired to another seat and grinned hospitably instead.
“Ive heard of the good work you chaps did for Hillton last year, and I
was mighty glad when I learned from Gardiner that you were coming
up here.”
“You know Gardiner?” asked Neil.
“No, Ive never met him, but of course every football man knows who he
is. He wrote to me in the spring that you were coming, and rather
intimated that if I knew my business Id keep an eye on you and see that
you didnt get lost in the shuffle. So here I am.”
“He didnt say anything about having written,” pondered Neil.
“Oh, he wouldnt,” answered Devoe. “Well, how do you like us as far as
youve seen us?”
“We only got here yesterday,” replied Paul. “I think it looks like
rather a jolly sort of place; awfully pretty, you know,
and–er–historic.”
“Yes, it is pretty; historic too; and its the finest young college in
the country, bar none,” answered Devoe. “Youll like it when you get
used to it. I like it so well I wish I wasnt going to leave it in the
spring. Very cozy quarters you have here.” He looked about the study.
“Theyll do,” answered Neil modestly. “Of course we couldnt get rooms
in the Yard, and we liked this as well as anything we saw outside. The
views rather good from the windows.”
“Yes, I know; you have the common and pretty much the whole college in
sight; it is good.” Devoe brought his gaze back and fixed it on Neil.
“You played left half, didnt you?”
“Yes.”
“Whats your weight?”
“I havent weighed this summer,” answered Neil. “In the spring I was a
hundred and sixty-two.”
“Good. We need some heavy backs. How about you, Gale?”
“About a hundred and sixty.”
“Of course I havent seen the new material yet,” continued Devoe, “but
the last years men we have are a bit light, take them all around.
Thats what beat us, you see; Robinson had an unusually heavy line and
rather heavy backs. They plowed through us without trouble.”

Frank Hinkey and the Ball

Frank Hinkey and the Ball.]
“Where is that fellow Hinkey? And when I pointed Hinkey out to him, he
said:
“Great guns, Harvard complaining about that little shrimp, Im ashamed
of Harvard.
“Hinkey was a wonderful leader. Every man that ever played under him
worshipped him. He had his team so buffaloed that they obeyed every
order, down to the most minute detail.
“When Hinkey entered Yale, there were two corking end rushes in college,
Crosby and Josh Hartwell. After about two weeks of practice, there was
no longer a question as to whether Hinkey was going to make the team. It
was a question of which one of the old players was going to lose his
job. They called him consumptive Hinkey.”
Every football player, great though he himself was in his prime, has his
gridiron idol. The man, usually some years his elder, whose exploits as
a boy he has followed. Joe Beachams paragon was and is Frank Hinkey and
the depth of esteem in which the former Cornell star held Hinkey is well
exemplified in the following incident, which occurred on the Black
Diamond Express, Eastbound, as it was passing through Tonawanda, New
York. Beacham had been dozing, but awoke in time to catch a glimpse of
the signboard as the train flashed by. Leaning slightly forward he
tapped Stock Rockets – Archer Daniels a drummer upon the shoulder. The salesman turned around. “Take
off your hat,” came the command. “Why?” the salesman began. “Take off
your hat,” repeated Beacham. The man did so. “Thank you; now put it on,”
came the command. The drummer summing up courage, faced Beacham and
said, “Now will you kindly tell me why you asked me to do this?” Joe
smiled with the satisfied feeling of an act well performed and said: “I
told you to lift your hat because we are passing through the town where
Frank Hinkey was born.”
Later, in the smoking room, Joe heard the drummer discussing the
incident with a crowd of fellow salesmen, and he said, concluding, “What
Id like to know is who in hell is Frank Hinkey?”
And late that evening when the train arrived in New York Joe Beacham and
the traveling man had become the best of friends. In parting, Joe said:
“If theres anything I havent told you, Ill write you about it.”
Sandy Hunt, a famous Cornell guard and captain, says:
“Here is one on Bill Hollenback, the last year he played for
Pennsylvania against Cornell. Bill went into the game, thoroughly fit,
but Mike Murphy, then training the team, was worried lest he be injured.
In an early scrimmage Bills ear was nearly ripped off. Blood flowed and
Mike left the side lines to aid. Mike was waved away by Bill. Its
nothing but a scratch, Mike, let me get back in the game. Play was
resumed. Following a scrimmage, Mike saw Bill rolling on the ground in
agony. His ankle is gone, quoth Mike, as he ran out to the field.
Leaning over Bill, Mike said: Is it your ankle, or knee, Bill? Bill,
writhing in agony, gasped:
“No; somebody stepped on my corn.”
Hardwick has this to tell of the days when he coached Annapolis:
“One afternoon at Annapolis, the Varsity were playing a practice game
and were not playing to form, or better, possibly, they were not playing
as the coaches had reason to hope. There was an indifference in their
play and a lack of snap and drive in their work that roused Head Coach
Ingrams fighting blood. Incidentally, Ingram is a fighter from his feet
up, every inch, as broad-minded as he is broad-shouldered, and a keen
student of football. The constant letting up of play, and the lack of
fight, annoyed him more and more. At last, a Varsity player sat down and
called for water. Immediately, the cry was taken up by his team mates.
This was more than Ingram could stand. Out he dashed from the side
lines, right into the group of players, shaking his fist and shrieking:
“Water! Water! What you need is fire, not water!”
Fred Crolius tells a good story about Foster Sanford when he was
coaching at West Point. One of the most interesting institutions to
coach is West Point. Even in football field practice the same military
spirit is in control, most of the coaches being officers. Only when a
unique character like Sandy appears is the monotony shattered. Sandy is
often humorous in his most serious moments. One afternoon not many weeks
before the Navy game Sandy, as Crolius tells it, was paying particular
attention to Moss, a guard whom Sanford tried to teach to play low. Moss
was very tall and had never appreciated the necessity of bending his
knees and straightening his back. Sanford disgusted with Moss as he saw
him standing nearly erect in a scrimmage, and Sandys voice would ring
out, “Stop the play, Lieutenant Smith. Give Mr. Moss a side line badge.
Moss, if you want to watch this game, put on a badge, then everybody
will know youve got a right to watch it.” In the silence of the parade
ground those few words sounded like a trumpet for a cavalry charge, but
Sandy accomplished his purpose and made a guard of Moss.

And if you see a young man dressed in an absurd

And if you see a young man dressed in an absurd fantastic costume, going
about the streets of a city, or a quiet college town, it may mean an
initiation into a certain society or club, and you will note that he
does his part with a quiet, earnest look upon his face, realizing that
he is carrying on a tradition which has endured for years.
You hear the seniors singing on the campus, while the whole college
listens. It is their hour. At games you see the cheer leaders take their
places in front of the grandstand, and as they bend and double
themselves into all sorts of shapes, they bring out the cheers which go
to make college spirit strong.
If you were at Yale, on what is known as “Tap Day,” you would view in
wonderment the solemnity and seriousness of the occasion. An election to
Tiffany Promotions Inc Categorin In Oyster Bay Ny a senior society is Yales highest honor. As you sit on the old Yale
fence you realize what it means to Yale men. In the secret life of the
campus men yearn most for this honor and the traditional gathering of
seniors under the oak tree for receiving elections is a college custom
that has all the binding force of a most rigid law.
ALUMNI PARADES
Then come the alumni parades at Commencement. The old timers head the
procession; those who came first, are first in line, and so on down to
the youngest and most recent graduate.
There are many interesting things in the parade, which bring out
specific class peculiarities. In one college you may see gray-haired men
walking behind an immense Sacred Bird, as it is called. This Bird–the
creation of an ingenious mind–is the size of an ostrich and has all the
semblance of life, with many lifelike tricks and habits.
Men dress in all sorts of costumes. This is a day in which each class
has some peculiar part, and all are united in the one big thought that
it is a cherished college custom.
You may see some man with the letter of his college on his sweater,
another may have his class numerals, another may wear a gold football.
These are not ordinary things to be purchased at sporting goods stores;
they are a reward of merit. The college custom has made it so, and if in
some college town the traditions of the university are such that a man,
as he passes the Ma Newell gateway at Cambridge raises his hat in honor
of this great Harvard hero, it is a tradition backed up by a wonderful
spirit of love towards one who has gone. And then on Commencement Day
when the seniors plant their class ivy–that is a token to remain behind
them and flourish long after they are out in the wide, wide world.
College tradition makes it possible for a poor boy to get an education.
The poor fellow may wait on the table, where sit many rich mens sons,
but they may be all chums with him; they are on the same footing; the
campus of one is the campus of the other, and all you can say is “It is
just the way of things–just the way it must be.” More power to the man
who works his way through college.

An era as yet but in its dawn

An era as yet but in its dawn, when the stupendous future can be seen
only as through a glass darkly?
“Remember, I do not assert my faith in a theory which is indicated by
an affirmative answer to these inquiries, for I have none. I give the
record of the earths progress in the past, as it is written upon the
rocks, standing out upon precipices, brought to light by the
researches, and translated by the energy of science from forgotten and
buried ages. The deductions to be drawn from it, I leave to those who
have a taste for the speculative, neither believing in, nor
quarrelling with the theory which they may predicate upon it.”
CHAPTER XVII.
LITTLE TOPPERS LAKE–A SPIKE BUCK–A THUNDER STORM IN THE FOREST–THE
HOWL OF THE WOLF.
We spent the next day in coasting Round Pond, looking into its
secluded bays, and resting, when the sun was hot, beneath the shadows
of the brave old trees that line the banks. In floating along the
shore of this beautiful sheet of water, one can hardly help imagining
that in the broken rocks and rough stones piled up along the margin of
the lake, he sees the rains of an ancient wall, the mortar of which
has become disintegrated by time, and the masonry fallen down. He will
see at intervals what, from a little distance, seems like a solid wall
of stone, laid with care, and upon which the lapse of centuries has
wrought no change, so regular are the strata of which it is composed,
while an occasional boulder, large as a house, and covered with moss,
reminds him of the ruined tower of some stronghold. He will see, as he
rounds some rocky point, half a dozen of these gigantic boulders piled
together, leaning against each other with great cavernous openings
between, through which he can walk erect, and he involuntarily looks
around him for the armor of the ancient giants who piled up these
stupendous rocks and walled in the lake with these massive boulders.
As we swept around a point near the south shore of the lake, we saw a
deer at a quarter of a mile from us, feeding upon the lily pads that
grew along the shore. Spalding and myself were in Jarome Iginla Talks About His 365th Goal! advance of our
little fleet, and our boatman paddled us carefully and silently
towards the animal, using the paddle only when its head was down. He
would feed for a minute or two and then look carefully all around him.
Of us he took no particular notice, although we were within a hundred
and fifty yards of him; and even when we were within sixty yards he
seemed to regard us only as a log floating upon the water, or
something else which might be regarded as perfectly harmless. Spalding
was in the bow of the boat, and when within some eight rods of the
game, we lay perfectly quiet for a moment, when his rifle spoke out
and its voice rung and re-echoed among the surrounding hills as if a
whole platoon of musketry were blazing all around us. The deer made
three or four desperate leaps in a zigzag direction, and then went
down. When we got to him, he was dead. He was a fine two year old
buck, with spike horns, and in excellent condition. We took his saddle
and skin and passed on.

Hugh

Hugh?”
“Physical directors and coaches are always on their guard against
that, Thad. The boat team is always strongest at a certain point.
If the race comes off when they attain that top-notch pinnacle,
theyre apt to do their very best; but should it be delayed, by
weather or something else, the coach becomes alarmed, because he
knows theres a great chance of their losing speed from too much
nervous tension and overwork.”
From which talk it was evident that Hugh must have imbibed
considerable valuable knowledge from Mr. Leonard, who, as a college
man, ought to understand a thing or two concerning sporting matters.
So the two chums continued to talk all the way back to town. Hugh
had picked up a whole lot of information by making the journey out to
the cross-roads. Somehow he seemed to feel drawn toward the old
blacksmith, who seemed to be such a sterling character.
Hugh had met him in church circles and at sociables, but, not knowing
the tragedy that lay back in the deacons younger life, he had so far
failed to cultivate his acquaintance. But he was now determined to
see more of Deacon Winslow, for he believed the weather prophet would
be able to tell him a host of interesting things about Natures
storehouse, from which he had gleaned astonishing facts during many
years study.
CHAPTER VIII
OWEN DUGDALES ANNOUNCEMENT
Another week of school had commenced, with winter now in full swing.
The weather seemed to have settled down to show what it could do,
after such a long delay. It was making up for lost time, some of the
boys declared. But then it could hardly be too cold for fellows
warmly dressed, and who had their three hearty meals a day. The poor
might complain, because they suffered, especially when such spells
were prolonged.

Devotees of tennis will claim first place for that among girls sports

Devotees of tennis will claim first place for that among girls
sports. The amount of practice and quickness of thought and motion
that maybe acquired in a game of tennis is remarkable; the fascination
of the game itself rather than the benefits to be derived from it will
hold the attention. The main trouble is in the learning, which
requires unflagging energy and constant practice. An overmodest
beginner will make the mistake of playing only against her likewise
beginning friends; the result is that she takes a discouragingly long
time finding out how to use her racket properly and never gets a
chance to return a really good serve.
It is really just as well at some point in your practising to see some
well-trained athlete do the thing you are trying to learn.
A girl can accomplish a great deal with her brain as well as with her
muscles in athletics. Some one once remarked that he learned to swim
in winter and to skate in summer. He meant that after he had in its
proper season practised skill in the winter sport, his brain, during
the warm months, kept repeating to the muscles those directions until
by the next winter they had a very fair idea of what they had to do,
and responded more quickly and easily. It is rather consoling to think
you do not lose time, but rather progress, between seasons.
The girl who goes camping with a crowd of boys and girls realizes how
much depends on the mere strength of the boys; at the same time she
herself has an opportunity of showing not only her athletic
proficiency and nerve, but also her superior common sense. She will
really have to leave the heavy work of pitching the tents and chopping
the wood to the boys, but she cannot sit down and fold her hands
meanwhile. She can be collecting materials for the beds of balsam on
which they hope to sleep in comfort, or she may gather chips for the
fire, or she may be helping to unload the wagon or canoes in which
they have come. When the tents are pitched she has a womans
prerogative of “putting the house in order,” and during the time of
camping keeping it so.
If there is actually a case of nothing for her to do, far better for
her to sit down and keep quiet than to get in the way of the boys and
bother them. A young man who in his first season as a guide in the
Canadian woods took out a party of girls from a summer school on a
camping trip told me that he would never do it again, because they
gave him no relief from a continual rain of questions. A case where
zeal for knowledge outruns discretion.
After the tents are pitched and the fire made by the boys, it is
plainly up to the girls to get supper. Let us hope they have practised
cooking for some time before they went camping. Every one gets so
desperately hungry in the outdoor life that meals are of first
importance, as tempers are apt to develop unexpectedly if many
failures are turned out. If the girls are good cooks, however, and
wash the dishes after each meal the division of labour will be fair to
all concerned.
A girl is more or less dependent on her boy friends for instruction in
sports and considerably anxious for their approval. Even if she has a
woman instructor, in nine cases out of ten she requires some kind of
praise from some man before she is satisfied with her performance.
Sister may tell her that she steers her canoe with beautiful
precision, but unless brother remarks carelessly that “the kid
paddles pretty well” she will hesitate to take her canoe in places
where expert paddling is required. When you know that you can do some
things as well as any boy you still have to rest content with the
grudging assurance that “you do pretty well for a girl.”

Walter B

Walter B. Street
W. L. Sawtelle of Williams, who knew this great player in his playing
days, writes as follows:
“No Williams contemporary of Walter Bullard Street can forget two
outstanding facts of his college career: his immaculate personal
character and his undisputed title to first rank among the football men
whom Williams has developed. He was idolized because of his athletic
prowess; he was loved because he was every inch a man. His personality
lifted his game from the level of an intercollegiate contest to the
plane of a mans expression of loyalty to his college, and his supremacy
on the football field gave a new dignity to the undergraduates ideals
of true manhood.
“His name is indelibly written in the athletic annals of Williams, and
his influence, apparently cut off by his early death, is still a vital
force among those who cheered his memorable gains on the gridiron and
who admired him for his virile character.”
W. D. Osgood
Gone from among us is that great old-time hero, Win Osgood. In this
chapter of thoroughbreds, let us read the tribute George Woodruff pays
him:
“When my thoughts turn to the scores of fine, manly football players I
have known intimately, Win Osgood claims, if not first place, at least a
unique place, among my memories. As a player he has never been surpassed
in his specialty of making long and brilliant runs, not only around, but
through the ranks of his opponents. After one of his seventy- or
eighty-yard runs his path was always marked by a zig-zag line of
opposing tacklers just collecting their wits and slowly starting to get
up from the ground. None of them was ever hurt, but they seemed
temporarily stunned as though, when they struck Osgoods mighty legs,
they received an electric shock.
“While at Cornell in 1892, Osgood made, by his own prowess, two to three
touchdowns against each of the strong Yale, Harvard and Princeton
elevens, and in the Harvard-Pennsylvania game at Philadelphia in 1894,
he thrilled the spectators with his runs more than I have ever seen any
man do in any other one game.
“But I would belittle my own sense of Osgoods real worth if I confined
myself to expatiating on his brilliant physical achievements. His moral
worth and gentle bravery were to me the chief points in him that arouse
true admiration. When I, as coach of Penns football team, discovered
that Osgood had quietly matriculated at Pennsylvania, without letting
anybody know of his intention, I naturally cultivated his friendship, in
order to get from him his value as a player; but I found he was of even
more value as a moral force among the players and students. In this way
he helped me as much as by his play, because, to my mind, a football
team is good or bad according to whether the bad elements or the good,
both of which are in every set of men, predominate.
“In the winter of 1896, Osgood nearly persuaded me to go with him on his
expedition to help the Cubans, and I have often regretted not having
been with him through that experience. He went as a Major of Artillery
to be sure, but not for the title, nor the adventure only, but I am sure
from love of freedom and overwhelming sympathy for the oppressed. He
said to me:
“The Cubans may not be very lovely, but they are human, and their cause
is lovely.
“When Osgood, with almost foolhardy bravery, sat his horse directing his
dilapidated artillery fire in Cuba, and thus conspicuous, made himself
even more marked by wearing a white sombrero, he was not playing the
part of a fool; he was following his natural impulse to exert a moral
force on his comrades who could understand little but liberty and
bravery.
“When the Angel of Death gave him the accolade of nobility by touching
his brow in the form of a Mauser bullet, Win Osgood simply welcomed his
friend by gently breathing Well, a word typical of the man, and even
in death, it is reported, continued to sit erect upon his horse.”