Camping Out.

BY R. R. BOWKER.

BUT, after all and before all, the first prerequisite of the right kind of a camp is to have the right kind of people in it. There is no better trial of friendship than the close test of camplife, and woe be to that party which has despised this fundamental rule! One bore, or one Miss Nancy, or one weakling, will easily spoil the pleasure of an entire camp. You want people who will not pout on rainy days or over a week of rain; who will not be afraid of spoiling their clothes or die of dampening their feet; who will not talk all the time, but sometimes; who will do their share of work as well as of play; who will not fume over bad dinners or no dinner at all; in a word, people who are cheerful and cheery, and who go knowing that even the rainbow has tears in it. As to number, it is well to reckon by twos, and to remember that a large company is not easy to provide for, at indefinite distances from grocery-stores, unless you are sure of a base of supplies. Four or six is the best number for experiment. If you have both ladies and gentlemen, a large camp is usual and agreeable, and ladies are a blessing in camp if they are the kind who take to it kindly. It requires a large tent, however, to afford room for a canvas centre-wall, and two tents are by all means better. If the ladies are afraid to stay by themselves in a house of their own, they are of the sort who will do better to stay at home altogether. But it is a comfort to have them about camp, and not only because they know better than most men how to wash the dishes! A friend of camping experience, nevertheless, insists that it is well, once in a year, to break away from all such social ties, and get a company of clean-spoken men together by themselves, for the sake of the entire change. The incompleteness of man without woman is then the more fully appreciated when one gets back again. There is philosophy in this; but, then, the ladies can scarcely revel in a similar exclusiveness, and it is a poor rule that don't work both ways.

In getting up the personal outfit for camplife there is apt to be more danger, with greenhorns, of taking too much rather than too little -I mean not of a dram, but of dress. The particular mistake most people make, however, especially in going north in summer, is in taking thin instead of thick garments. Nights are cool, and apt to be cold, in the northern woods or by the lakes. A change of not too thin woollen underclothing is the first sine qua non ; then a pair of laced boots that fit (too large are quite as bad as too small), and a pair of slippers for a change and to sleep in, which may seem an absurdity, but is a very practical comfort. A change of flannel negligée shirts, loose-necked and long; one coat that will serve as an overcoat; pantaloons that neither tear easily nor catch burs and dirt-blue jeans is capital material, though not handsome nor very warm; woollen stockings, and a hat that shades the eyes, are the other necessaries for the outer man. In a tramp the pantaloons should be tied about the ankles, not too tightly. Ladies are best off with simple mountain-dresses, shortskirted, of dark flannel or waterproof. It is a practical suggestion, worth noting, that pockets in camp-apparel should always be arranged to button up, because they do "spill 'round"

dreadfully in camp. Threads and needles are items that masculines can not afford to forget. For these things and toilet articles the light rolling toilet-cases are very convenient, because they serve as a memorandum in keeping your things together, and can be tied up at the side of the tent over your sleeping-place. A stout jackknife, a water-tight match-safe, and a compass, are absolutely indispensable. Writing-material and postage-stamps are "a great nuisance when you don't have them;" and a guide-book and the best map that can be had should be somewhere among the party. Don't forget towels and soap, which are individual rather than camp properties, but apt to be overlooked because of the doubt. In a capital little book, called "How to Camp Out," by John M. Gould, an old army-man and an experienced camper, is a check-list of all the things you are likely to want, and a great many more than you ought to want, that it will be useful to run over. Guns and ammunition, and rods and flies, must depend on the locality in which the hunting or fishing is to be done.

A light rubber blanket is needed; those, called poncho, with an immense buttonhole, so to speak, in the middle, to put your head through, serve as bed by night and overcoat by day. A pair of light-weight army-blankets (the two woven continuously, so as to fold at your feet), costing from three to five dollars, complete the bed. In a permanent camp some take a tickingsack, which they may fill with straw or leaves, but most will prefer the fragrant mattress of hemlock-leaves, although it is abominable work picking enough of them. All this "kit" for a movable camp, should not count up to so much as twenty pounds, which is a sore load for most travellers. They can be made up into a pack in the rubber blanket, fastened with carryingstraps, which should be broad at the bearings on the shoulders; or into a long roll, similarly wrapped, and tied into a ring, to be carried first over one shoulder and then over the other; or packed in a knapsack, of which those of light waterproof cloth, such as are made in London for the Alpine Club, are the best.

As

For cooking utensils, a frying-pan, coffee-pot, water-pail, hatchet, large knife, and knife, fork, spoon, plate, and cup for each person, are necessaries. There are beautiful camp-kettle affairs that combine everything you can possibly want, in no space at all, but in these cases all is not gold that glitters. Particularly in a movable camp, they are of more bother than the primitive articles, which can be distributed among the various members of the party. to provisions, it is difficult indeed to give general advice; it depends on the country. An Adirondack guide commonly contents himself with salt pork, corn-meal, coffee, a little tea, potatoes, salt and pepper, in addition to his gun and rod. Self-raising flour, crackers, and canned goods, especially soups and vegetables, come handy in a permanent camp; for it must not be forgotten that fresh vegetables are not procurable north until late in the season. Such things can most economically be bought in the large cities before starting, and freighted up as far as possible. Lemons are a great desideratum in camp. But "everything depends." If the camp is to be permanent and not far from roads, much more can be carried; a servant is then desirable, at once for the care of these things, to cook, and to keep camp. With small

parties, moving about, a servant is less desirable. The Dartmouth College boys had a way of camping about the White Hills peripatetically, hiring a wagon for their camp-luggage, and buying an old horse at the beginning, which they could sell at not much loss at the end. Such a plan limits you, but saves much hard work. In the Adirondacks, the journeying is mostly by water; but, when you do come to the "carry," it is a great bother to have so much luggage that the guide, after walking off like a great beetle with the boat on his head and part of the "kit" underneath on his shoulders, must go back for a second load.

Enjoyable and healthful camping should be leisurely-not an attempt to do ever so much or make ever so many miles a day. The laziness of it is a great boon. Yet there must also be exercise. In walking, a dozen to twenty miles a day is enough for any one, and it should be done morning and evening, before eleven and after four. It is a good plan to laze one day and "do" the next, alternately. To one who manages wisely, camp-days become thus the most enjoyable in life.-From "Camping Out," in "Appletons' Summer Book."

Camp Poetry.

'Tis sweet by woodland lake to rest, Enjoying nature's benison,

Mayhap a book to lend a zest,

Some pastoral of Tennyson,

And some fair maid whose faithful breast

'Tis safe to bet one's pennies on.

So placed, one tastes the joys of life,

And need not envy any son

Of man who, 'midst the toil and strife

Of cities, rests a denizen.

'And though those halcyon days are past,

And now we mourn the many sun

-Dered ties with friends that might not last,

And joys we've had in plenison,

We still can keep our courage stout,

Throw off dull care, if any's on,

Renew our dreams of lusty trout,

And feast off boughten venison."

The Most Enduring Fences.

BY ROWLAND C. ROBINSON.

OF all fences, the most enduring and the most satisfying to the eye is the stone wall. If its foundation is well laid, it may last as long as the world-which, indeed, it may slowly sink into; or the accumulating layers of earth may in years cover it; but it will still be a wall -a grassy ridge with a core of stone. A wall soon gets rid of its new look. It is not propped up on the earth, but has its foundations in it; mosses and lichens take quickly and kindly to it, and grass and weeds grow out of its lower crevices, mullein and brakes and the bulby stalks of golden-rod spring up beside it. Black raspberry bushes loop along it, over it, and stretch out from it, clumps of sweet elders shade its sides, and their broad cymes of blossoms, and later, clusters of blackberries, beloved of robins and school-boys, bend over it. When the stones of which it is built are gathered from the fields, as they generally are, they are of infinite variety, brought from the far north by glaciers, washed up by the waves of ancient

seas, and tumbled down to the lower lands from the overhanging ledges. Lumps of gray granite and gneiss, and dull-red blocks of sandstone, fragments of blue limestone, and only a geologist knows how many others, mostly with smooth-worn sides and rounded corners and edges. All together, they make a line of beautifully variegated color and of light and shade. One old wall that I know of has been a rich mine for a brood of callow geologists, who have pecked it and overhauled it and looked and talked most wisely over its stones, and called them names hard enough to break their stony hearts.-From "New England Fences," in Scribner's for Feb., 1880.

"One never can be alone if he is familiarly acquainted with the stars. He rises early in the summer morning that he may see his winter friends; in winter, that he may gladden himself with a sight of summer stars. He hails their successive rising as he does the coming of his personal friends from beyond the sea."-HENRY WHITE Warren.

The Summer Stars.

THE following brief directions have no other object than to introduce a new element of pleasure into the long summer evenings spent at the seaside. No attempt is made at scientific explanation, the most direct mode being chosen for pointing out in the grand picture gallery of the heavens the most beautiful and favorite pic tures, such as can be easily found and detached, named and remembered, and such, indeed, as, once recognized, will never be forgotten. Should a few hours thus spent in quiet contemplation kindle in some the desire to know more about the nature of the heavenly bodies, let him take up one of the books (mentioned below) from which we have gathered these crumbs, and he will find himself richly rewarded by the study. One such result in a thousand or ten thousand would indeed make amends for the existence of this butterfly guide, which, skimming the surface without a why and wherefore, has no eye but for tangible beauty, or beauty that can be felt without telescope.

Any one not already familiar with some of the constellations is cautioned not to attempt too much on the same evening. Let him read up and commit to memory all that is said on one constellation. The finding and study of one or two constellations is quite an encouraging beginning, and their recognition, on subsequent evenings, is only a small foretaste of the pleasure that will increase with increasing acquaintance. Don't be discouraged by the bewildering confusion of the first attempts to detect a certain star picture. Your eyes have to travel many times over the skies before they will learn to recognize at a glance your friends among the millions.

The following popular hand-books can be safely recommended for more serious study: Proctor's "Half-Hours with the Stars" Proctor's "Half-Hours with the Telescope" (New York: Putnams); and James Freeman Clarke's "How to Find the Stars" (Boston: Lockwood, Brooks & Co.). A few popular descriptions have been taken from Newcomb's "Popular Astronomy," the most extensive of the works mentioned, and H. W. Warren's "Recreations in Astronomy" (both, N. Y., Harpers); also from Proctor's entertaining series of articles in the St. Nicholas, for 1877, which is to appear in book-form shortly.

Finding the Pole Star.-First look for Ursa Major, the Great Bear (toward the north-west), and you cannot miss the familiar set of seven bright stars of the Great Bear, better known as the Dipper, owing to its shape, four of the stars forming its cup, three its handle. The two end stars (of the cup, or the most distant from the handle, and at this season the lowest) are called the Pointers, because they always point to the Pole Star. This star is easily found by drawing a line through the Pointers (from the star in the bottom of the cup to the end star) and following this direction a short distance the first bright star you meet is the Pole Star.

This found, you have a known central point, and your never-failing compass, for wherever you may stand, facing the Pole Star, the north

lies before you, the south behind you, the east on your right, the west on your left.

The Pole Star belongs to the constellation of Ursa Minor or the Smaller Bear, and figures in its tail; or, if you prefer the more popular picture, in the handle of the Little Dipper. Both Dippers are of similar shape, except that the handles bend in, and always point to, opposite directions, and that some of the stars of the Little Dipper are much fainter. The two end stars, which with the Pole Star are the bright-est of the constellation, and which correspond with the Pointers in the Dipper, viz., being the end stars of the cup, are called the Guardians cf the Pole, "because they circle around it," according to Proctor, as though keeping watch and ward over the axle-end of the great star-dome."

Face South: it is toward the south that the heavens present the most glorious display during summer.

Scorpio, the chief summer constellation (resembling a scorpion with extended claws), is in full view above the horizon in June and July; descending southwest in August. The bright, ruddy star is Antares (the Heart of the Scorpion), a star of first magnitude, and perhaps the most beautiful of all the red stars. The word "Antares" means, in fact, "the rival of Mars." It has a smaller star on each side and a long curved row of stars to the west.

Antares sets during August between 12 and 10; September, 10 and 8 P.M.

Sagittarius, the Archer, is fully above the horizon in July, closely following Scorpio. It comprises a large collection of second magnitude stars east of Scorpio and in and east of the Milky Way. Its chief stars resemble a bow and arrow, the arrow directed toward the scorpion.

The Milky Way, or Galaxy, in a clear, starlight night, at this season, makes a fine display, spanning the skies from north to south. Its superior brilliancy toward the south indicates its greater proximity in that direction.

Aquila, the Eagle.-Following upward the larger branch of the Milky Way, or looking above Sagittarius, eastward, about midway between zenith and horizon, we strike three bright stars in cross-way line (six degrees long), which form the head of the Eagle. The finely scintillating star in the middle, called Altair, is

of first magnitude, the other two are of third magnitude. Five or six other stars extending and spreading below Altair give the shape of the constellation. Parts of the Milky Way, near and in the Eagle, are very bright, and even with a small telescope seem to be crowded with

stars.

Altair reaches south, in August, between II and 9; middle of September, 8 P.M.

Cygnus, the Swan.-Beyond the Eagle, further up, and directly in the Milky Way, you will notice six stars forming a conspicuous cross (or as Proctor remembered it in his boyhood, a capital kite"), twenty degrees long by seventeen degrees wide, its chief star, Deneb, heading it. The cross is east, in a horizontal position, nearer zenith than midway in July; in Aug. and Sept. approaching the zenith, the upright and cross-rod of the cross equally inclined to the horizon. Near Deneb there is seen a straight dark rift, and near this space is another larger cavity, which has been termed the northern Coal-sack. The western branch of the Milky Way is covered by a large oval mass exceedingly rich and brilliant.

Lyra, the Harp.-Near the zenith, west and southwest of the Swan, and above, north and northwest of the Eagle, shines the bright Vega, the principal star of Lyra, of first magnitude, and of a brilliant white color with a tinge of blue. This and two faint stars (two degrees only from each other) form a beautiful little triangle, nearly equilateral.

The Harp, the Swan and the Eagle can be struck at once by looking up, east (later more south-southwest), between midway and zeniththe three brightest stars standing out against all the others, form an immense and very striking (isoscles) triangle. They are: the lowest, Altair of the Eagle; the highest, Vega of the Harp; and north or east of these, Deneb of the Swan, all stars of the first magnitude.

Bootes, the Bearkeeper.-Look for the Dippea (see directions above). Continuing the curve of the handle about the same distance as is between the Pointers and the Pole Star, viz., about thirty degrees), you strike the most brilliant star in the southwestern skies. This is Arcturus, the "ruddy star" of Bootes, a fine constellation which, in the western skies, retains a prominent position during the whole summer. Arcturus, on account of its brilliancy, is seen early in the evening. Above Arcturus the constellation is reaching high up, presenting "a fine figure as with uplifted arm (formed by the stars of the Crown, which see below) he chases the Great Bear round the zenith." The smaller brilliant star (orange and green, above Arcturus and nearly central of the constellation) is known as Mirac, also on account of its extreme beauty (through the telescope) called "Pulcherrima" (the most beautiful). The curve of the handle of the Dipper continued through Arcturus further down, west (about forty degrees), strikes Spica of Virgo (the Virgin), another star of first magnitude and visible until of August.

Arcturus sets in September between 10.30 and 8.30 P.M.

Hercules.-High up, east of Bootes, west of Lyra, and north of Ophiuchus, Hercules extends up toward the zenith. It contains no striking star, but is easily recognized by its containing a rather irregular quadrangle. A straight line drawn from the fifth and third star

of the Dipper (counting from the handle) will strike it.

Corona Borealis, the Northern Crown, a smaller constellation east of and close to Bootes, west of Hercules, and just above the Serpent's head, is composed of a pretty semi-circle of six stars, supposed to form a chaplet or crown. The third nearest Bootes, the most brilliant, is Alpherat, a star of second magnitude.

Jupiter, “the giant planet," will be evening star after July 9th. He is easily recognized by his brilliant white light, with which he outshines every other planet except Venus. He will be at his brightest on the night of October 7th, when he will be in opposition. A month or two before opposition (this year, July to September), he can be seen rising (east) late in the evening, while during the three months following opposition he will always be seen in the early evening somewhere between southeast and southwest. Jupiter rises after middle of July, toward II; beginning of August, toward Io; after middle of July, toward 9 P.M. will be near the moon July 27th, August 23d and September 20th.

He

Venus will be the evening star after July 13th. Next to the sun and the moon, she is the most brilliant object in the heavens. She never recedes more than about 45 degrees from the sun, and is, therefore, seen by night only in the western sky in the evening, or the eastern sky in the morning, according as she is east or west of the sun. There is, therefore, seldom any difficulty in recognizing her. When at her greatest brilliancy, she can be clearly seen by the naked eye in the daytime, provided that one knows exactly where to look for her. Venus will be nearest the moon August Ist and September 5th.-From ". Percy's Pocket Dictionary of Coney Island."

The Strawberry in History and Poetry.

BY E. P. ROE.

If there were as much doubt about a crop of this fruit as concerning the origin of its name, the outlook would be dismal, indeed. In old Saxon, the word was streawberige or streowberrie; and was so named, says one authority, "from the straw-like stems of the plant, or from the berries lying strewn upon the ground." Another authority tells us: "It is an old English practice" (let us hope a modern one also) "to lay straw between the rows to preserve the fruit from rotting on the wet ground, from which the name has been supposed to be derived; although more probably it is from the wandering habit of the plant, straw being a corruption of the Anglo-Saxon stræ, from which we have the English verb stray." Again, tradition asserts that in the olden times children strung the berries on straws for sale, and hence the name. Several other causes have been suggested, but I forbear. I have never known, however, a person to decline the fruit on the ground of this obscurity and doubt. (Controversialists and skeptics please take note.)

That the strawberry should belong to the rose family, and that its botanical name should be fragaria, from the Latin fragro, to smell sweetly, will seem both natural and appropriate.

The innumerable varieties of strawberries that are now in existence appear, either in their character or origin, to belong to five great and