Discussions - National Geographic's Collectors Corner2024-03-28T11:29:42Zhttps://ngscollectors.ning.com/forum/categories/1029239:Category:2321/listForCategory?feed=yes&xn_auth=no100 Years Ago: March 1924tag:ngscollectors.ning.com,2024-02-28:1029239:Topic:2990532024-02-28T17:47:51.455ZGeorge Thomas Wilsonhttps://ngscollectors.ning.com/profile/GeorgeThomasWilson
<p><span style="font-size: 24pt;"><strong>One Hundred Years Ago: March 1924</strong></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><strong><em>This is the 110<sup>th</sup> entry in my series of brief reviews of National Geographic Magazines as the reach the 100<sup>th</sup> anniversary of their publication.</em></strong></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> …</span></p>
<p></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 24pt;"><strong>One Hundred Years Ago: March 1924</strong></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><strong><em>This is the 110<sup>th</sup> entry in my series of brief reviews of National Geographic Magazines as the reach the 100<sup>th</sup> anniversary of their publication.</em></strong></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12390444470?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12390444470?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-full"/></a></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The first article in this month’s issue is entitled “Geography and Some Explorers” and was written by Joseph Conrad. The article contains twelve black-and-white photographs of which six are full-page in size. The article also contains a full-page map of Virginia and Florida published in 1638 on page 242.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 8pt;"><strong>Map courtesy of Philip Riviere</strong></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The author argued that Geography’s superiority over other sciences, like Geometry, was found in the figures which graced its history. Of all the sciences, geography found its origin in action, what is more, in adventurous action. Descriptive geography, like any other kind of science, had been built on the experience of certain phenomena and on experiments prompted by that curiosity of men and their passion for knowledge. Like other sciences, it had fought its way to truth through a long series of errors. Geography had its phase of circumstantially extravagant speculation which had nothing to do with the pursuit of truth, but had given us a glimpse of the medieval mind in its childish way with the problems of earth’s shape, its size, its character, its products, its inhabitants. Cartography was almost as pictorial then as some modern newspapers. It crowded its maps with pictures of strange pageants, strange trees, strange beasts, drawn with amazing precision amid theoretically conceived continents. All that might have been amusing it the medieval gravity in the absurd had not been a wearisome thing. But what of that! Had not the key science of chemistry passed through its dishonest phase of alchemy, and our knowledge of the starry sky been arrived at through the superstitious idealism of astrology looking for men’s fate in the depths of the infinite! Mere megalomania on a colossal scale. The author preferred a science that had not laid itself out to thrive on the fears and the desires of men. From that point of view, geography was the most blameless of sciences. Its fabulous phase never aimed at cheating simple mortals out of their peace of mind or their money. At the most, it had enticed a few away from their homes – to death, maybe, now and then to a little disputed glory, often to hardship, but never to high fortune. The greatest of them all, who had presented modern geography with a new world to work upon, was at one time loaded with chains and thrown into prison.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Columbus remained a pathetic figure, not a sufferer in the cause of geography, but a victim of the imperfections of jealous human hearts, accepting his fate with resignation. His contribution to the knowledge of the earth was certainly royal. And if the discovery of America was the occasion of the greatest outburst of reckless cruelty and greed known to history, we may say this, at least, for it, that the gold of Mexico and Peru, unlike the gold of alchemists, was really there, palpable, that lured men away from their homes. But there would never be enough gold to go round, as the Conquistadors found out by experienced. The author took guilty pleasure in the fact that the searchers for El Dorado kept failing; they thought nothing about the science of geography. The geographic knowledge of 1924 was of the kind that would have been beyond the conception of the hardy followers of Cortez, Pizarro, and de Vaca. The discovery of the New World marked the end of the fabulous geography, and it must be owned that the history of the conquest contained at least one geographically great moment – Balboa’s discovery of the Pacific Ocean. He surrendered to his first impression in naming it. He was charmed by its serene aspect. He probable thought himself within a stone’s throw, as it were, of the Indies and Cathay. Balboa could not possibly have known that that great moment of his life had added, suddenly, thousands of miles to the circumference of the globe, had opened an immense theater for the human drama of adventure and exploration, and spread an enormous canvas on which some geographers could paint the most fanciful variants of their pet theory of a great southern continent. Geography militant, which had succeeded the geography fabulous, did not seem able to accept the idea that there was much more water than land on this globe. The author supposed their landsmen’s temperament stood in the way of their recognition that the world of geography seemed to have been planned mostly for the convenience of fishes.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">What surprised the author was that the seamen of that time should have really believed that the large continents to the north of the equator demanded, as a matter of good art, to be balanced by corresponding masses of land in the southern hemisphere. Every bit of coastline discovered, every mountain top glimpsed in the distance, had to be dragged loyally into the scheme of the Terra Australis Incognita. Even the great seventeenth century explorer, Tasman, after coming unexpectedly upon the North Island of New Zealand, seemed to take for granted that that was the western limit of an enormous continent extending away toward the point of South America. Mighty was the power of a theory, especially if based on such a common-sense notion as the balance of continents. When he returned to Batavia, he was received coldly by his employers, the honorable governor-general, and the council of Batavia. Their final judgement was that Abel Tasman was a skillful navigator, but that he had shown himself “remiss” in his investigations, and that he had been guilty of leaving certain problems unsolved. Tasman did not expect that criticism. He may have been hurt by the verdict of the honorable council, but he did not seem to have been cast down by it. He requested a raise, and got it. There was a taint of an unscrupulous adventurer in Tasman. It was certain that at various times his patron and the council in Batavia had employed him in some shady transactions of their own connections with the Japan trade. Then in his old age Tasman got into some disreputable scrape which caused his church to ask him to resign his membership. Even the council was startled, and dismissed him from his employment. Remiss or not, he had, in the course of his voyages, mapped 8,000 miles of an island which, by common consent, was called now [in 1924] a continent, a geologically very old continent indeed, but which was in 1924 the home of a very young Commonwealth.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">James Cook would not refuse to acknowledge that Abel Tasman had first reported the existence of New Zealand in the perplexed bewildering way of those times, a hundred and thirty years before Captain Cook, on his second voyage, laid forever the ghost of Terra Australis Incognita and added New Zealand to the scientific domain of the geography triumph of our day. No shades of remissness nor doubtful motive rested upon the achievements of Captain Cook, who worked at the great geographical problem of the Pacific. <em>Endeavour</em> was the name of the ship which carried him on his first voyage, and was also the watchword of his professional life. <em>Resolution</em> was the name of the ship he commanded himself on his second expedition, and it was the determining quality of his soul. The voyages of the early explores were prompted by an acquisitive spirit, the idea of lucre in some form, the desire of trade or the desire of loot, disguised in, more or less, fine words. But Cook’s three voyages were free from any taint of that sort. His aims needed no disguise. They were scientific. His deeds spoke for themselves with the mastery simplicity of a hard-won success. In that respect he seemed to belong to the single-minded explorers of the nineteenth century, the late fathers of militant geography, whose only object was the search for truth. Geography was a science of facts, and they devoted themselves to the discovery of facts in the configuration and features of the great continents. It was a century of landsmen investigators. The author did not forget the polar explorers, a few of them laid down their lives for the advancement of geography. Seamen, men of science. The dominating figure among the seamen explorers of the first half of the nineteenth century was Sir John Franklyn, whose fame rested not only on the extent of his discoveries, but on professional prestige and high personal character.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">That great navigator, who never returned home, served geography even in his death. The persistent efforts, extending over ten years, to ascertain his fate advanced greatly our knowledge of the polar regions. The first two years of the <em>Erebus</em> and <em>Terror</em> expedition seemed to be the way to success, all the while it was the way to death. Sir Leopold M’Clintock, commanding the <em>Fox</em>, found an entry, under a cairn dated just a year before the ships were trapped and crushed by ice, stating “All well.” Franklyn and his crew were forced to abandon their ships before suffering a long, desperate struggle for life. The great spirit of the realities of the story sent the author off on the romantic explorations of his inner self; to the discovery of the taste for poring over land and sea maps; revealed to him the existence of a latent devotion to geography which interfered with his devotion to his other school work. The author lamented that there was too little geography and too much of the other subjects. He felt that the people who set the school curriculum had no romantic sense for the real; that they were ignorant of the great possibilities of active live; with no desire for struggle, no notion of the wide spaces of the world. And their geography was very much like themselves, a bloodless thing, with a dry skin covering a pile of uninteresting bones. The geography he discovered for himself was the geography of open spaces and wide horizons, a geography still militant, but already conscious of its approaching end with the death of the last great explorer. Thus, it happened that the author got no marks at all for his first and only paper on Arctic geography, which he wrote at age thirteen. It was not a set subject. His tutor had told him to not waste his time reading books of travel instead of attending to his studies. His proficiency in map drawing saved him on another occasion.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The author had no doubt that star-gazing was a fine occupation, for it led you within the borders of the unobtainable. But map-gazing, to which he became addicted so early, brought the problems of the great spaces of the earth into direct contact with curiosity and gave precision to one’s imagination. And the honest maps of the nineteenth century nourished in the author a passionate interest in the truth of geographical facts and a desire for precise knowledge which was extended later to other subjects. For change had come over the spirit of cartographers. From the middle of the eighteenth century on, the business of map-making had been growing into an honest occupation, registering the hard-won knowledge, but also recording the geographical ignorance of its time. And it was Africa that got cleared of the dull imaginary wonders of the Dark Ages, which were replaced by exciting spaces of white paper. Regions unknown! The author imagined adventurous men nibbling at the edges, attacking from north and south and east and west, conquering a bit of truth here and a bit of truth there, and sometimes being swallowed up. The author was proud that he was born around the same time the Great Lakes of Africa were discovered. His first bit of mapmaking as a boy was to carefully trace in pencil the outline of Lake Tanganyika on his old atlas, published in 1852. On it, the heart of Africa was white and big. Many years afterwards, as second officer in the Merchant Service, it had been his duty to correct, and bring up to date, the charts of more than one ship. He did that work conscientiously and with a sense of responsibility, but with great enjoyment. The author did not give up his interest in the polar regions. His interest swung from the frigid to the torrid zone, as the explorers, like masters of a great art, worked to complete the picture of the earth.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Not the least interesting part in the study of geographical discovery lied in the insight into the character of the men who devoted their lives to the exploration of land and sea. The author admired those men more than the characters of famous fiction. Men like Mungo Park, who mapped Western Sudan; Bruce, of Abyssinia; and Dr. Barth, of Central Sudan. The empire building of 1924 could not suppress for the author the memory of David Livingstone, explorer of Central Africa, who died in a hut along the headwaters of the Congo. He was a notable European figure, and the most venerated of all the objects of the author’s early geographical enthusiasm. Once only did that enthusiasm expose the author to the derision of his schoolmates. One day, putting his finger on a spot in the very middle of the then white heart of Africa, the author declared that someday he would go there. His friends chaffed, and he fumed; but eighteen years later, a wretched little stern-wheel steamboat the author commanded lay moored to the bank of an African river. Everything was dark under the stars. The subdued thundering mutter of the Stanley Falls hung in the heavy night air of the last navigable reach of the Upper Congo. Just above the falls the yet unbroken power of the Congo Arabs slumbered uneasily. Their day was over. The author said to himself with awe, “This is the very spot of my boyish boast.” And yet a great melancholy descended on him. It was the end to the idealized realities of a boy’s daydreams. He had smoked a pipe at midnight in the very heart of the African Continent, and felt very lonely there. But never so at sea. There he never felt lonely, because there he never lacked company – the company of great navigators, the first grownup friends of his early boyhood. The unchangeable sea preserved for one the sense of its past, the memory of things accomplished by wisdom and daring among its restless waves.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The author had been permitted to sail through the very heart of the old Pacific mystery; a region which even in his time remained very imperfectly charted and still remote from the knowledge of men. It was in 1888, when in command of a ship loaded in Sydney a mixed cargo for Mauritius, that one day all the deep-lying historic sense of the exploring adventures in the Pacific surged up to the surface of his being. He sat down an wrote a letter to his owners suggesting that instead of taking the usual southern route, he should take the ship to Mauritius by way of the Torres Strait. He never expected it to be effective, but the owners left it to his responsibility. He had no regrets, for what would his memory of sea life had been if it had not included a passage through Torres Strait, in its fullest extent, from the mouth of the great Fly River, right on along the tracks of early navigators. The season being advanced, he insisted on leaving Sydney during a heavy southeast gale. Both the pilot and the tug-master were angry, and left him to his own devices while still inside Sydney Heads. The fierce southeaster caught the author in its wings, and in nine days he was outside the entrance of Torres Strait. The strait was named after a Spaniard who, in the seventeenth century first sailed that way without knowing where he was; without suspecting he had New Guinea on one side and Australia on the other. He thought he was passing through an archipelago. The strait, whose existence had been doubted for a century and a half, argued, and squabbled about by geographers and even by the navigator Abel Tasman (who thought it was a bay), had its true contours first mapped by James Cook, the greatest of the seamen fathers of militant geography. If the dead haunted the scenes of their earthly exploits, then the author must have been attended benevolently by those three shades – the inflexible Spaniard, the pig-headed Hollander, and the great Englishman. Great shades, all friends of the author’s youth.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">It was not without a certain emotion that, commanding very likely the first and certainly the last merchant ship that carried cargo that way, from Sydney to Mauritius, the author put her head at daybreak for Blight Entrance and packed on her every bit of canvas she could carry. Windswept, sunlit, empty waters were all around him, half veiled by a brilliant haze. The first thing that caught his eye upon the play of green white-capped waves was a black speck marking conveniently the end of a low sand bank. It looked like the wreck of some small vessel. He altered course slightly to pass close, with the hope of being able to read the letters on her stern. They were already faded. Her name was <em>Honolulu</em>. Thirty-six hours later, of which nine were spent at anchor, approaching the other end of the strait, he sighted a gaunt, gray wreck of a big American ship lying high and dry on the southernmost of the Warrior Reefs. She had been there for years. The author had heard of her; she was legendary. The author passed out of the Torres Strait before the dusk settled on its waters. Just as the sun sank ahead of his ship, he took a bearing of a little island for a fresh departure, an insignificant crumb of dark earth, lonely, a sentinel to watch the approaches from the side of the Arafura Sea. But to the author, it was a hallowed spot, for he knew that the <em>Endeavour</em> had been hove to off it in the year 1762 for her captain, James Cook, to go ashore for half an hour. Thus, the sea had been for the author a hallowed ground, thanks to those books of travel and discovery which had peopled it for him with unforgettable shades of the masters in the calling which in a humble way was to be his, too – men great in their endeavor and in hard-won successes of militant geography; men who went forth, each according to his lights and with varied motives, laudable or sinful, but each bearing in his breast a spark of the sacred fire.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The second item listed on the cover is entitled “The Lure of the Land of Ice” with a byline listing Herbert G. Ponting. It is not an article, but a set of sixteen full-page duotones, pages 255 through 270, embedded within the first article. Mr. Ponting is the photographer. Duotones, formerly known as photogravures, are images transferred to paper using, acid-etched metal plates. The deeper the etch, the darker the ink transferred.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">A list of the caption titles for the duotones is as follows:</span></p>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“The Aims of Polar Explorers have been as Pure as the Air of Those High Latitudes”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Pack Ice Seen from the Maintop of the “Terra Nova””</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Looking South Hut Point and Vince Cross”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Mt. Erebus Seen Over a Water-worn Iceberg”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Castle Iceberg Frozen into the Ice Near the Hut on Cape Evans”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Vida, Leader of One of the Dog teams of the Scott Polar Expedition”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Penguins Making for the Water”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“The Volcanic Pillar at Cape Barne”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“At the Threshold of an Iceberg Grotto”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“A Pressure Ridge, One of the Obstacles of Antarctic Exploration”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Furrows of Frozen Spray”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“The “Terra Nova” in McMurdo Sound”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Sitting Before a Blubber Stove in the Antarctic”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“The Ramparts of Mt. Erebus”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“A Dog Team Resting by an Iceberg”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“The “Terra Nova” in a Gale”</span></li>
</ul>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The second article in this month’s issue is entitled “Beyond the Clay Hills” and was written by Neil M. Judd, Leader of the National Geographic Society’s Pueblo Bonito Expeditions. It has the internal subtitle: “An Account of the National Geographic Society’s Reconnaissance of a Previously Unexplored Section in Utah.” The article contains twenty-eight black-and-white photographs, of which ten are full-page in size. It also contains a sketch map of the southeastern corner of Utah on page 278.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 8pt;"><strong>Sketch Map courtesy of Philip Riviere</strong></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Among the members of the National Geographic Society in 1924, there were very few who believed that in the U. S., in the 20<sup>th</sup> century, that there still existed places not thoroughly explored. They were relatively small areas when compared to their parent States. Such neglected areas required no second Lewis and Clark Expedition. The latest U. S. map embodied a wealth of diverse information garnered from sundry sources. [See: “United States of America” in five colors, 38 x 28 inches, <a href="https://ngscollectors.ning.com/forum/topics/100-years-ago-april-1923" target="_self">April 1923</a>, <em>National Geographic Magazine</em>.] It pictured winding blue rivers and the red treads of a vast interlocking network of railroads and interurban lines; it located cities, towns, and mere filling stations; it traced transcontinental highways and many local roads; and it also disclosed certain isolated districts that exhibited none of those symbols which denoted the passing of man on his conquests. For the most part, those latter districts were left bare simply because the mapmaker could obtain no reliable information with which to relieve their bareness – areas which were still practically unknown and unexplored. One such area bordered the Rio Colorado in Utah. East and west from that savage red river unmapped mesas stretched away mile after barren mile. Securely guarded by the deep gorges of the Rio San Juan and the Colorado lied the least known section. It remained a veritable <em>terra incognita</em>. Because of the mystery wrapped about it; because it had been so purposely avoided; because all the trails led around it and none through it, that region held a peculiar fascination for the author. Back in 1907, while searching the shadows of White Canyon for footprints of the ancient cliff-dwellers, he had gazed southward across its silent, shimmering expanse. Again, in 1909, accompanying Dean Byron Cummings to the discovery of the Rainbow Natural Bridge, that same untamed district had lost none of its inherent mystery and charm. [See: in the <em>National Geographic Magazine</em>, “The Great Natural Bridges of Utah,” February 1910; “The Great Rainbow Natural Bridge of Southern Utah,” November 1911; “Encircling Navaho Mountain with a Pack-Train – a New Route to Rainbow Natural Bridge,” <a href="https://ngscollectors.ning.com/forum/topics/100-years-ago-february-1923" target="_self">February 1923</a>.]</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Still a decade later, from ridges that neighbored Kaiparowits Plateau and the Circle Cliffs, far to the west, a siren beckoned the author toward the grim silence and elusiveness of that unknown canyon country. The desert possessed an impelling force magnified with great distance and isolation from the usual haunts of men. The author happily accepted the National Geographic Society’s invitation to carry its banner yet farther along untrodden trails. That unfrequented section in the angle of the Colorado and San Juan rivers boasted one upstanding landmark, the Clay Hills. Viewed from the south and east, the Clay Hills rose as an unscalable barrier of blue and gray shale and sheer sandstone cliffs. A single narrow gateway led through and beyond that barrier. From their cedar-crowned heights the Clay Hills sloped gently down to the west, where lied the invisible gorge of the Rio Colorado; thence miles of pale, yellow sand lifted themselves slowly to meet a sky-band of far-away cliffs. It was indeed a wild country and lonesome. Its very wildness added to its solitude, as the latter emphasized its awful vastness. There, in an area larger than the State of Connecticut, there resided no living soul. The silence hung heavily. Roving, four-footed beasts of the desert were rarely seen; yet their tracks recounted the world-old story of the survival of the fittest. Even the birds seemed to have deserted that strange country, for one saw few, other than those noisy jays of the cedar ridge and the buzzards, circling ceaselessly in the sky. Nearly half a century prior, a band of Mormon colonists cut a bold path from Western Utah, across the Rio Colorado and the Clay Hill divide, to found Bluff. Descendants of the cattle those pioneers drove now foraged the more favored uplands. Seekers of gold followed. At San Juan ford some seventeen years prior, the author met a grizzled prospector with an unhurried burro, bound for the Henry Mountains. Neither the old man nor his diminutive mule were ever seen again.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">But however deserted and silent that untamed country seemed, there was a time, uncounted centuries ago, when human voices echoed through the canyons, when sandaled feet stalked deer and sheep along the rocky rims. The crumbling walls of crude stone dwellings, blending with the variegated colors of the cliffs against which they clung, marked the temporary homes of prehistoric peoples. Fragments of ancient pottery and flint chips discarded by the arrow-maker snapped underfoot as one climbed the talus to some yawning cave. And there, in the cool shadows, one observed the scattered ashes of former campfires, the angular wall drawings of primitive artists, and daubs of mud thrown against the walls by children at play. Those ancient folk, safely cloistered in murky canyons, tarried but a short while; then moved on to a happier environment. To the neighboring Indians of 1924, the uninhabited region west of the Clay Hills was a fearful place, the home of all-powerful unseen forces. With the mountain sheep gone and the deer fast disappearing, few Navajo could be induced to venture north of the Rio San Juan. When the author’s party left Kayenta, early last October [1923], the Arizona sands were soaked with unseasonable rains. Flood waters were racing down the San Juan. So, they started for the swinging bridge near Mexican Hat. Seven mules were packed with oats, and four carried enough rice and flour and coffee and bacon to assure each of them two meals a day for thirty days. One extra mule was included in the train. Forced from their intended path by unexpected floods, they trailed through Monument Valley and across endless mesas to Rio San Jaun. Even in October the valley was oppressively hot. Wind and sand and water had there been locked in ceaseless rivalry since the world was young. Hundreds of square miles of solid rock had been worn and washed away, leaving a rear guard of lofty red buttes.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Ten days and 150 miles of trail brought them to a dripping seep on the west rim of Grand Gulch, with the red walls of the Clay hills standing out boldly a short day’s ride away. From that camp, the party’s guide, John Wetherill, turned down to the San Juan for a half ton of oats which the Indians had agreed to deliver there. But he found no cache at the crossing. Without additional grain, the party could go no farther. Wetherill crossed the treacherous river on a log; then walked 20 miles to a borrowed flivver and continued to Kayenta. Three days later, Wetherill was back at the ford with the much-needed grain, and a new recruit. He had persuaded an Indian to accompany him back. However dubious the Indian was as to the wisdom of their venture; he soon proved a faithful and willing assistant. He found water in the most unpromising places, and he knew odd corners where their weary mules might graze contently for the night. And when, a few days after they had forded the San Juan on their homeward journey, he galloped away light-hearted and happy to his hogan and family, he had returned in safety from the dwelling place of Evil! There was a dim, unverified tradition that the Navaho carried the bones of their dead warriors to a final resting place near the Henry Mountains. But those sacred rites were no longer performed. If that custom did in fact be observed in olden times, wherein lied its origin? Were the Navaho descendants of the ancient cliff-dwellers? The great caves, with their abandoned camp sites, their storage cysts, or their shattered ruins, told a mute tale of human struggles long before the written history of our continent began. On that journey beyond the Clay Hills, they traversed canyons never-before visited by white men; they crawled through narrow doors into dwellings no booted foot had previously entered; they climbed canyon walls on trails unused for centuries.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The unwatered, sun-lit mesas, the shadowy canyons – the ancient cliff-dweller took those for his home and hunting grounds. But prehistoric man did not dwell long in the parched country west of the Clay Hills. His habitations there were mostly crude affairs; he built no colossal structures such as Pueblo Bonito and Pueblo del Arroyo. [See the <em>National Geographic Magazine</em> for <a href="https://ngscollectors.ning.com/forum/topics/100-years-ago-june-1921" target="_self">June 1921</a>, <a href="https://ngscollectors.ning.com/forum/topics/100-years-ago-march-1922" target="_self">March 1922</a>, and <a href="https://ngscollectors.ning.com/forum/topics/100-years-ago-july-1923" target="_self">July 1924</a>.] Before starting on their journey, they had been able to learn but little of the Clay Hills country, and that little proved mostly to be erroneous. Moki Canyon, for instance, was represented as about five miles long. They made three camps in Moki Canyon, the last fully 18 miles above its mouth and perhaps two-thirds of its total length. They took their mules up both the north and south cliffs. For days they climbed canyon walls and crossed tiresome mesas. It was indeed a wild sort, that land beyond the Clay Hills, and destined always to remain so. Moki Canyon, place of the dead! Like the Venus Flytrap the quicksands of Moki Canyon waited to embrace the blind or heedless passerby. Under the quick steps of their mules, those treacherous sand pockets swayed and stretched like huge yellow sheets. But they went through – the first pack-train to dare – through 18 miles of it, building trail when necessary. They had other experiences with quicksand, the last while fording the Rio San Juan on their homeward way. The trail they were following had been made by hunting parties in those glorious days when game was plentiful. The trail circled the south edge of Gray Mesa, wound through ragged canyons, and then dropped to the very edge of the drab, brutal river. Quicksand could not be avoided entirely, but the safest path was marked. Straight across to the big riffle, then down current with it gradually seeking the shore. One of the mules, Bino, had both front legs go down in quicksand. The mule was rescued, however, with great effort.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Never were rains more persistent than 1923! They began in midsummer, which was proper, and continued until early November, which was not at all as it should have been. At the beginning of their expedition, high water in the San Juan forced a long eastward detour. Storm clouds camped with them frequently. In the Southwest, summer showers were almost tropical in their intensity. They filled arroyo banks and undermined bridges. They loosened boulders, threw down trees, and started landslides. They climbed the south wall of the San Jaun and their clothes were still drenched from rescuing Bino; the trail was wet and steep and a bit tricky. In trying to make a high jump, a mule named Mac struck the corner of his pack, fell backward, and rolled over. All hand stretched to help the stubborn animal with the Scotch name. Afterward on the easy mesa trail, much sport was made of Mac’s narrow escape. Two days later, they stood beneath the graceful arch of the colossal Rainbow Natural Bridge, marveling at the stupendous folly of Nature, who built temples to herself and then tore them down again. Low-hanging clouds revealed, for seconds only, the snow-covered summit of Navajo Mountain. Fourteen years before, the author had first seen that sublime creation of the Master Builder. The trail of 1924 was much easier than the one they had built; its more dangerous portions had been smoothed out or avoided. Three hundred individuals, including the late ex-President Roosevelt and a score of foreigners had followed in the footsteps of the discoverer, and few had returned disappointed. And so, it was very gratifying to note, after those many years, that the Rainbow Bridge, alone among the natural wonders of our country, remained pretty much as the desert gods made it. Majestic in its solitary retreat yet dwarfed by the massive cliffs that tower above it, the stone rainbow was still the mystic bridge over which the true sons of Earth might escape their mortal sorrows.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The third article in this month’s issue is entitled “Among the “Craters of the Moon”” and was written by R. W. Limbert. It has the internal subtitle: “An Account of the First Expedition Through to Remarkable Volcanic Lava Beds of Southern Idaho.” The article contains twenty-six black-and-white photographs, taken by Mr. Limbert, of which five are full-page in size. The article also contains a sketch map of the “Craters of the Moon” with an inset of the State of Idaho on page 306.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 8pt;"><strong>Sketch Map courtesy of Philip Riviere</strong></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">In the West, the term “Lava Beds of Idaho” had always signified a region to be shunned by even the most adventuresome travelers – a land supposedly barren of vegetation, destitute of water, devoid of animal life, and lacking in scenic interest. In reality, the region had slight resemblance to its imagined aspect. Its vegetation was mostly hidden in pockets, but when found consisted of pines, cedars, junipers, and sagebrush; its water was hidden deep in tanks or holes at the bottom of large “blow-outs” and was found only by following old Indian or mountain sheep trails or by watching the flight of birds. The animal life consisted principally of migrant birds, rock rabbits, woodchucks, black and grizzly bears; its scenery was impressive in its grandeur. A glance at a map of Idaho showed that the southern part of the State, lying between Arco and Carey and north of Minidoka, was a vast region labeled desert or rolling plateau. Although almost totally unknown at present [in 1924], that section was destined someday to attract tourists from all over America. The district consisted of some 63 volcanic craters, lava, and cinder cones, all extinct or dormant. The largest and most conspicuous was 600 feet high, rising amid of a belt of craters two or three miles wide and 30 miles long. The craters or cones were close together in the north and west; in the south they were miles apart. That a region of such size and scenic peculiarity, in the heart of the great Northwest, could have remained practically unknown and unexplored was extraordinary. For several years, the author had listened to stories told by fur trappers of the strange things they had seen while ranging in that region. Some of those accounts seemed beyond belief. The author made two hiking and camping trips into the northern end, covering the same region traversed by a Geological Survey party in 1901. The peculiar features seen on those trips led him to take a third across the region in the hope that even more interesting phenomena might be encountered.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">One morning in May W. L. Cole and the author, both of Boise, Idaho, left Minidoka, packed on their backs bedding, an aluminum cook outfit, a 5x7 camera and tripod, binoculars, and supplies sufficient for two weeks, making a total pack each of 55 pounds. They also took with them an Airedale terrier for a camp dog. That was a mistake, for after three days’ travel his feet were worn raw and bleeding. In some places it was necessary to carry him or sit and wait while he picked his way across. North of Minidoka, for about 25 miles, they crossed a rolling lava plateau, after which came comparatively later flows of lava. They were the first white persons to cross that plateau from south to north. For three days their travel was over the uninteresting, broken-up lava surface known as AA flow. It was the hardest going imaginable. Their water on that part of the trip was snow and ice which they found in crevices. The fourth day out they sighted an Indian monument in an open flat, and 20 feet from it they found a hole about two feet in diameter, that opened downward like an immense cistern. This was full of clear water, and they drank their fill. They located that water hole by compass bearings on Red Top Butte and Sugar Loaf Butte. It was the only water in the vicinity which could be depended upon the year round. From the top of Sugar Loaf, they picked up an old Indian trail which resembled a white streak winding through the lava. Some miles to the north was the butte called Big Dome, and a few hundred yards north of it, a crater several hundred yards in diameter and about 200 feet deep. They camped in the bottom of that crater that night. Half a mile east of Big Dome they found an immense crater ring that looked as if the top of a mountain had collapsed and fallen back into the volcanic throat. The crags had magnetic properties, and the compass needle could not be depended upon when near them.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">About a quarter mile to the northwest was a large fissure, which they called Vermillion Canyon. The floor, a hundred or more feet in width, was composed mostly of cinders; the lava walls were bright red in the sunlight. Near the center were several extinct lava spouts that resembled the geyser formations of Yellowstone Park. Near there, they saw a pile of rock with a piece of charred sagebrush in it pointing to another water hole that probably contained water during the summer. Working their way through the fissure for a quarter of a mile, they found it opened upon a flat, and about 600 yards to the north was another crater like the one just passed. As they sat on the east side of its rim, they saw below them a hundred or more lava blisters or bubbles. In many instances the tops had fallen in, disclosing rooms from 8 to 10 feet across and as high as 6 or 7 feet. The shells of those lava bubbles were from 6 to 8 inches thick. Their color was a grayish brown. At all places of interest, the author set up the compass and triangulated on the more prominent buttes. Sometimes it was necessary to move the location several hundred feet, as the needle was attracted to the rocky points. Estimating distance was also very difficult, owing to the lack of any object of known size to use as scale. They usually found that distances between points were about half again as far as they had estimated. West of the crater beside Bubble Basin they saw channels winding through the lava flat. Examination showed them to be lava gutters. The lava had flowed down assuming the shape of a mountain stream. Traveling northwest for a mile, they came to another Indian marker – a pile of rocks. It had a small pile at the base and, in a line with it, about 20 feet distant, at the base of a cliff, was the entrance to a cave that opened into a room 18 feet wide and 12 feet high. Stalactites and stalagmites of ice draped over a floor covered with ice so clear it looked like water. They worked their way for about 50 yards until it narrowed to a crawlway.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">North of that point, they found a high cinder cone whose sides were terraced with mountain sheep trails. They stood out so prominently that they called it Sheep Trail Mount. In climbing to the top to triangulate their position, they found it had a double crater, or rather a crater within a crater. The sides of the crater were banded with rings of green and yellow. That was the only Sulphur deposit found on the trip. About 200 yards to the north was another large crater, 300 yards wide and 150 or 200 feet deep. About 100 yards northwest of the north rim of that crater they found a blowout cone, with a throat 10 feet wide and 15 feet long, that went down 30 feet before branching off. The north wall had a sort of lava oven about 10 feet high and hollow. Fifteen feet north of the oven was the rim of another crater blowout, 100 feet across and 150 feet deep. Fifty yards from the edge of that were nine small blowout craters. After leaving that scene, their trail laid along a series of cinder cones for almost seven miles, each with a depression in its top. The night they reached the point marked Echo Crater Cole’s feet had become so badly blistered that the pain of walking was almost unendurable. The dog was in terrible shape as well. They planned to camp for several days while the author worked out alone. When morning came, Cole’s feet had swollen. He stayed in camp and soaked his feet. The author set out to meet Era Martin and Wes Watson, who were waiting to come back with then from the north end. The author made the round trip of 28 miles, getting back by dark. He carried only a gun, camera, and canteen. It was on that trip that he had a rather odd experience. He noticed a hole, 15 feet wide and 10 feet deep, caused by the cave-in of the roof of some underground passage. He looked down and saw a mountain sheep’s skeleton with the horns in good condition. He jumped in, looked over the horns, and then could not get out!</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Sitting on one of the rocks that littered the floor, he rested and thought. After a time, by rolling and lifting some of those rocks into a pile at one end, he had a mound from which he could easily reach the rim and draw himself out. Echo Crater was one of the most beautiful in that region. It is 700 feet deep and was one of the few craters having a growth of timber on its sides and bottom. It was an ideal camping place and they camped near the west wall. The acoustic properties of the site were most unusual. The west wall produced echoes while the east wall did not. About a quarter of a mile east of Echo Crater was the ice cave discovered on the trip the year before. The cave was at the bottom of a pit 100 feet long and 30 feet deep. The floor was a conglomerate of huge lava blocks. These and the walls were encrusted with about two inches of ice as clear as glass. There were many ice stalactites, and in spots, there were ice stalagmites building up to meet them. Forty-five feet from the entrance, the tunnel narrowed and inclined downward. It was unsafe to go any farther. During the month of August, on a subsequent trip, the author visited the cave and found the cave bottom full of ice, but no icicles or ice on the walls. At the south end of the pit, they noted another cave, which had about three feet of water over a stratum of ice. That went off into still another cave of unguessed dimensions. The author noticed several mourning doves flying about. By following them with binoculars, he saw them drop down into a blowout. It was hot that afternoon in August. When they reached the bottom of the blowout, they were surprises that the water was ice cold. By lining flights of doves, four other water holes were located, all as cold as the first. On the north rim of a big sink, about 50 feet from the edge were the remains of a perfect lava geyser built up 5 feet. The sink itself was 400 yards wide and 150 feet deep. They named it the Big Devil. Just north of it was a series of six smaller sinks. They call the row the Seven Devils.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The morning after they had explored that section it was foggy. After an hour of aimless travel, they decided to go back to camp. It was the first time in the author’s life that he had been lost. They got their bearings from some rocks they had passed. About a half mile northwest of the northern end of the Seven Devils they came upon a large cinder flat a mile long and a half mile wide. There they encountered another strange feature of that land. Thet noticed a series of light-brown dots extending in lines crisscrossing the flats. They were old bear tracks, into which the wind had carried seeds that had taken root and exactly filled the tracks. It was a small grayish plant about one and a half inches high, a pigmy variety of the buckwheat family. In a few places wild rye grass had taken root and was crowding the smaller plant out. We called that place Bear Track Flats. Adjoining Bear Track Flats on the north was a similar one having features all its own – more than 100 blowholes and fumaroles. From their camp in Echo Crater, they made an excursion for nine miles out into a lava flow some 20 miles wide extending to the east. Most of the flow had a pahoehoe surface. [See: “The Hawaiian Islands,” <a href="https://ngscollectors.ning.com/forum/topics/100-years-ago-february-1924" target="_self">February 1924</a>, <em>National Geographic Magazine</em>.] In places there were ridge after ridge and fold upon fold, with crevasses and cracks. About four miles from Echo Crater, they came to a large black hole. Climbing down, they entered a lava stalactite cave, each stalactite from 2 to 7 inches long and covered in moss. They went about 75 feet. A short distance from that they reached a second moss cave, extending to the east. Farther on, they found another cave, with fresh bear tracks. They went in. About 20 feet in, the cave forked, one branch went west, the other northwest. They entered each about 100 feet, until they narrowed down, making it necessary to crawl. About 100 yards from the entrance to that cave, at the base of a cliff facing south, they discovered the entrance to a cave leading northwest. It also contained bear tracks.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12390450101?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12390450101?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-full"/></a></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">East of the bear caves, they came upon a natural bridge of lava arching a point where two cliffs of lava narrowed down. It had a 50-foot span and the arch was 18 feet. Its width was 75 feet. There was a pine tree growing under the east entrance. A member of the party bumped his head on the roof near the edge, so they laughingly called it the Bridge of Tears. East of the Bridge of Tears they came to the entrance of what they afterwards decided to call amphitheater Cave. Climbing down, they found themselves on the east side of a room some 40 feet wide and 60 feet long with a domed ceiling 20 feet high. At the top of the dome the roof had caved in, leaving a circular skylight 6 inches in diameter. Behind some rocks, the tunnel led away to the southeast. They walked and crawled between a quarter and a half mile. The coloring of those caves was red, brown, and black, with splashes of white. While proceeding east, the author and Martin left the others to climb to a low mound in the flow. From that vantage point they could see a lake a half a mile long and, to the south of it, a grove of willows and cottonwoods. They decided to walk to another elevation a mile and a half farther along, where they could look down on the basin. When they got there, the lake appeared to still be three miles off, when suddenly lake, trees, and all floated away and disappeared in the distance. They had been victims of a mirage. A short distance northwest of Trench Mortar Flat lied the highest of the cinder cones in that region, known as Big Cinder Butte. As it stood in 1924, it was about half its size before the explosion blew off its top and its southwest side. From the summit they looked south over the country they had traversed, tracing their course through the maze of lava and cinder cones. Below them they counted six distinct lava flows, each comparatively fresh. To the north were many sputter cones and the shadowy outlines of craters deeper and larger than they had passed.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Two miles northwest of Big Cinder Butte, they came to a row of seen lava sputter cones caused by molten lava which had been thrown out of the vent, piling up to a height of 60 feet. The southern one was the first climbed. Imagine finding a hole 15 feet in diameter and bottomless, so far as they could judge. It went down 40 feet, then narrowed, after which it opened, giving the crater the shape of an hourglass. Large rocks rolled in were never heard to strike bottom. They called it the Bottomless Pit. Nearby, a volcanic throat about 30 feet in diameter and 60 feet deep was found, full of snow and ice. From the sides hung large clots of lava. A short way from that was the entrance to the narrow tunnel of another cave. In the vicinity there were seven lava cones in a row, three of them in a state of perfect preservation. In climbing a high ridge to the north, the author saw three of the largest craters in the belt, one of which was a quarter of a mile across and several hundred feet deep. The north rim of that crater was a knife-edge, the other slope being the side of another crater, almost as wide and deep, formed by two explosions which caused a double depression in the bottom. One contained a small lake. They called it Crater Lake and the crater, Tycho, after the large crater on the moon. Stretching to the southwest for 11 miles they saw one of the most remarkable lava flows in the world. Its color was a deep cobalt blue, with generally a high gloss. The U. S. Geological Survey called it the Blue Dragon Flow. About a mile to the north of Crater Lake was an immense cinder cone, the west side of which had breached away leaving the floor of the crater as it appeared when it erupted. There were bubbles, rolls, folds, and twists, as if a giant frying pan of thick gravy furiously boiling had been frozen instantaneously. That flow had broken out and traveled northwest for several hundred yards, and then, being dammed up, had broken through a low place in the cinder ridge and gone east.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">About two miles southwest of Big Cinder Butte was a flow with similar formations. Along the north side of the Ruined Pueblo flow were 14 mounds composed of rock and sagebrush, which Indians had built. Three well-worn Indian trails came into that belt from the north. One went in about six miles west of Martin, near the sinks of a lost stream known as Little Cottonwood. The trail was distinct for about 11 miles, and then faded; yet they found traces of it all the way across. Where those trails went and why, no one knew. Northward, a mile from the Ruined Pueblo flow, were a few more low cinder cones like those they had passed. Puzzling features along the west side of that volcanic belt were the many dead, charred trees growing in a cinder flat barren of vegetation of any kind. In appearance the flows seemed as if they had occurred yesterday, but the latest probably occurred about 150 to 200 years prior, around the time of the eruption of Buffalo Hump, in Idaho County, Idaho, in 1866. The total area of the six young lava flows of that region was about 300 square miles, while that extending above and below that point, along the Snake River plains, reached 27,000 square miles. A report prepared by the U.S. Geological Survey suggested to the National Parks Service that an area of 39 square miles be set aside as the “Craters of the Moon National Monument.” In that area occurred a fissure eruption displaying surface phenomena which were paralleled only by those in Iceland.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">At the bottom of the last page of the third article in this issue (Page 328) there is a notice regarding change of address. If a member wanted the magazine to be mailed somewhere else, the Society needed a month’s notice in advance, starting on the first of the month. If a member wanted the May issue redirected, the Society needed to know by April first.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The fourth and final article in this month’s issue is entitled “Australia’s Wild Wonderland” and was written by M. P. Greenwood Adams. The article contains thirty-six black-and-white photographs (eight full-page in size) taken by William Jackson, Nor’ West Scientific Expedition of Western Australia. The article also contains a sketch map of the Northwestern Coast of Australia with an inset of the entire country on page 332.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 8pt;"><strong>Sketch Map courtesy of Philip Riviere</strong></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Eleven million dollars’ worth of mother-of-pearl shell and three million dollars’ worth of pearls were taken, in a ten-year period, from the waters of the Indian Ocean which lapped the shores of Western Australia. Pearl fishers, with their Asiatic crews and divers, scoured the coast for 1,100 miles, from Sharks Bay to the north of King Sound. Their activities dated back to the early (eighteen-)fifties. Western Australia produced more than three-fourths of the world’s pearl shell. The principal center of the industry was Broome, a township of some 4,000 Asians and a few hundred whites. The Asians were employed in the pearl fishing under a special clause in the White Australia Act, which otherwise excluded the entrance of all colored peoples into the Commonwealth. Fifty years prior, there was not a single European settlement in that vast section of Australia, and even now [in 1924], the population was less than 7,000 souls, excluding aborigines. From 1628, the northwest coast was visited by many bold mariners, including DeWitt and William Dampier, but it was not until 1837 that the first definitive attempt at exploration was undertaken by Captain George Grey. The first pastoral settlement in the Roebuck Bay district was established in 1863. In 1882, Sir John Forrest made an investigation in that division; and shortly afterward, Hall and Slattery discovered gold at Hall’s Creek. Then, definite settlement of that great tract of country really began. It was in Broome that the Nor’West Scientific and Exploration Company of Perth, Western Australia, chartered the 22-ton schooner, <em>Culwulla</em>, and secured the services of Captain Johnson for the purpose of investigating the northwest coast from Broome to Wyndham, the small township at the head of the Cambridge Gulf. The little party of explorers sailed at daylight one morning in May. A run of 90 miles along the coast brought them to Ledge Point, where a visit was made to Beagle Bay Mission Station. The station consisted of 60 buildings scattered over 30 acres.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">North of Beagle Bay was Chilli Creek, where there was a 28-foot tide. At the ebb, water receded nearly seven miles. Under the mangrove trees which fringed the coast there were millions of crabs. Some were bright blue, others scarlet – all about the size of a 50-cent piece – while larger crabs, three inches long and yellow in color, swarmed over the sand. The fisheries wealth of this coast was remarkable, every inlet and river teeming with valuable edible fish. At Tyra Island, which was reached through wild and swirling tides, a Frenchman had lived among the blacks for more than 30 years. He owned a lugger, lived in a bark hut, and had a retinue of some 50 blacks – men, women, and children. At the entrance to King’s Sound, there was a group of islands known as the Buccaneer Archipelago. On Sunday Island, one of that group, Sydney Hadley had a mission station, where he utilized the black women for collecting the trochus shells, which he shipped away. It was from the trochus shells that pearl buttons were made – an industry carried on in France and Japan. North from the Sound lied the “Graveyard,” where tiny islands and dangerous reefs were sprinkled all over the sea. Captain Johnson took the schooner through the Graveyard and passed safely to the trickier Whirlpool Pass. At times, that pass was quite unnavigable. Its banks were more than 400 feet high in places, very rocky, and ran sheer down. The rise and fall of the tide there was 35 feet. At Dugong Bay, an inlet in Collier Bay, several sea cows, or dugong, were captured. The dugong industry was being rapidly developed in the State of Queensland and was proving a most important asset. Butcher Island provided another illustration of the power of the tides on the northwest coast, as fifty miles inland the rise and fall was 18 feet, while at the entrance the fluctuation was 30 feet. It was near there that the Charnley River poured out its waters. A run up that stream provided plenty of excitement, as here and there great mud-covered crocodiles, with which the waters swarmed, slide down the banks.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The country was timbered and ranges of hills nearly enclosed the river. At almost any point on the coast, dugong could be speared, while a sailfish was captured. It was beautifully colored and measured 8 feet in length. Another strange creature was the sucker fish, or shark sucker, which clung to larger fish solely for the purpose of “stealing a ride.” Montgomery Island was one of several small bits of land dotting among the dangerous coral reefs which strewed the coast for miles north of Butcher Inlet. One reef had an area of 20 square miles and was completely covered at high tide, but when the turn came, the sea rushed from the reef like a waterfall, leaving it high and dry. On the adjacent Montgomery Island, the blacks were noted for the way they ornament their bodies by means of cicatrices. Their markings were said to be the most unusual in Australia. The skin was cut with a sharp shell, then mud and salt water were rubbed into the wound. Tribal marks were made thus, and each man carried his visiting card on his body. Some excellent pioneer work was accomplished at Port George Mission; they had produced a veritable Garden of Eden, with tropical fruits, flowers, and vegetables. They had many goats and fowls. Sea snakes were frequently seen curled up asleep on the surface of the water. Those reptiles were poisonous and grew to about 12 feet in length. The run from Admiralty Gulf to Napier Broome Bay was full of navigation difficulties, since many reefs and small islands abounded. At Long Island, several wild men were induced to come aboard the schooner. They were very tall and wore no clothes whatsoever, their only adornment being well-defined tribal markings and long chin whiskers. Later, when nearly all hand went ashore, the attitude of the Long Islanders changed from one of friendliness to threatening hostility. The Sunday Island boys explained that that change took place because their offer of women was neither appreciated nor accepted.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">On the shores of Napier Broome Bay there was a small mission station, founded 20 years prior by Spaniards of the same order which founded Beagle Bay Station. Rice, tobacco, sugar, and tropical fruits were grown with success by the four Brothers. The Brothers were often attacked by hostile blacks, and two of them bore spear wounds received in those encounters. Wild dogs – dingoes – also troubled the little settlement. Several great stingrays and shovel-nosed sharks were speared in the shallow waters of the bay. Stingrays reached a weight of 600 pounds, while sharks on that coast often attained a length of 30 feet. In Cambridge Gulf, a small uninhabited island, known as Lacrosse, was the home of giant turtles. At the head of gulf lied Wyndham, the port for the great cattle country of the hinterland. From Wyndham the ranches were served by camel trains, which carried supplies for hundreds of miles into the interior. The camels were driven by Afghans. Camel teams were familiar sights in the little township, hauling in great wagonloads of firewood from the outlying district. Wyndham was a typical Australian outback town – it boasted a hotel, hospital, butcher’s shop, several stores, post office, and savings bank. The Western Australia Government had built a fine refrigerating plant there. The Forrest River flowed into Cambridge Gulf. Unlike many tribes to the south, who threw their spears like javelins, the Forrest River men used a throwing-stick, or lever, known as a <em>womerah</em>. A good spear-thrower could hurl the weapon as many yards as he could throw it in feet when hurling it javelin-fashion. That tribe had never seen a boomerang, not all blacks used them. The trip from Broome to Wyndham and return required six months. The expedition obtained much valuable information regarding pastoral, fisheries, timber, and mineral wealth of that wonderland of the State. William Jackson secured the first comprehensive pictorial record by means of the “movie” and still cameras.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">At the bottom of the last page of the last article, page 356, the is a notice boldly entitled “IMPORTANT NOTICE TO MEMBERS.” The text reads: “Those authorized to secure detailed information and photographs in the name of the National Geographic Society and its Magazine are supplied with official credentials in the form of letters specifying the object in view. Upon presentation of such identification, the fullest co-operation is respectfully requested. This notice to members is necessary, unfortunately, because of the fraudulent operations of persons claiming official connection with The Society or the Magazine. All membership fees should be made payable to the National Geographic Society.”</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Tom Wilson</span></p> 100 Years Ago: February 1924tag:ngscollectors.ning.com,2024-01-31:1029239:Topic:2983952024-01-31T20:10:42.807ZGeorge Thomas Wilsonhttps://ngscollectors.ning.com/profile/GeorgeThomasWilson
<p><span style="font-size: 18pt;"><em><strong>One Hundred Years Ago: February 1924</strong></em></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><em><strong>This is entry #109 in my series of short reprints of a 100-year-old National Geographic Magazine.</strong></em></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> …</span></p>
<p></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 18pt;"><em><strong>One Hundred Years Ago: February 1924</strong></em></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><em><strong>This is entry #109 in my series of short reprints of a 100-year-old National Geographic Magazine.</strong></em></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12372581858?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12372581858?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-full"/></a></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 8pt;"><strong>Cover Image courtesy of Scott Shier</strong></span> </span></p>
<p></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The sole article in this month’s issue is entitled “The Hawaiian Islands” and was written by Gilbert Grosvenor, LL. D., President National Geographic Society, author of “The Land of the Best,” “Peary’s Polar Explorations in the Far North,” “Young Russia, the Land of Unlimited Possibilities,” “The Capitol – Wonder Building of the World,” etc., in the <em>National Geographic Magazine</em>. It has a subtitle, both on the cover and internal that reads “America’s Strongest Outpost of Defense – The Volcanic and Floral Wonderland of the World” and is an address delivered before the National Geographic Society in Washington, D. C. A breakdown of the article’s “134 Illustrations” is as follow: eighty-nine Black-and-white photographs, of which thirty-one are full-page in size; twenty-one colorized black-and-white photographs, of which thirteen are full-page in size to be discussed later (these are the “Sixteen Pages of Illustrations in Full Color” listed on the cover); sixteen full-page duotones to be discussed later; six sketch maps of Hawaii and its position in the Pacific (the first three were missed by Philip Riviere), the first, on page 116, is of the Pacific Ocean and Hawaii’s Strategic Location,</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The second, on page 123, is a full-page sketch map of the Main (Eastern) Hawaiian Islands with an inset of the entire archipelago,</span></p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12369412692?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12369412692?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-full"/></a></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The third, on page 127, shows the migration routes to Hawaii from Asia,</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The fourth, on page 134, is of the Island of Oahu,</span></p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12369413298?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12369413298?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-full"/></a></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 8pt;"><strong>Relief Map courtesy of Philip Riviere</strong></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The fifth, on page 145, is of the Island of Maui,</span></p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12369413669?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12369413669?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-full"/></a></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 8pt;"><strong>Relief Map courtesy of Philip Riviere</strong></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">And the sixth, on page 183, is of the Island of Hawaii;</span></p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12369413501?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12369413501?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-full"/></a></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 8pt;"><strong>Relief Map courtesy of Philip Riviere</strong></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">One Sketch Drawing, on page 127, of Father Damien;</span></p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12369414092?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12369414092?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-full"/></a></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">And one Sketch Diagram, on page 139, showing a pie chart of the population demographics of the Hawaiian Islands.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The Hawaiian Islands were the most isolated inhabited islands in the world, more than 2,000 miles from their nearest neighbor, California. They had been built along a crack on the ocean bottom by a string of volcanoes. On a map they looked like pin-pricks. Some of the author’s friends, who were not Society members, asked him and his wife how they could entertain themselves in such a small place. The members of our Society knew that the Hawaiian Islands were one of the wonderlands of the world. Here, American ingenuity, courage, and energy had wrought seeming miracles, unsurpassed elsewhere, and achieved discoveries beneficial to all mankind. When discovered, the Islands were already inhabited by a handsome, semicivilized race, a happy and kindly people, but subject to a harsh form of religion, of which the <em>tabu</em> was the principal feature. The tabu was especially severe to the women, who could not eat with men. The Hawaiians were sufficiently removed from the Tropics to be compelled to work for a living, and thus became intellectually and physically more alert and vigorous than the islanders of the South Pacific. Life in the sea, from which much of their food was obtained, developed superb and agile figures, making them the most daring and powerful swimmers in the world. They had been living on those islands for untold centuries before the advent of Cook, in 1778. They had come in canoes hollowed out from single logs. Some were 70 feet long and could carry 50 or more men. It was believed that the Polynesian race, to which the Hawaiians belonged, originated in India. Their voyages across the seas rivaled those of the Vikings. With no compass, and only the stars to guide them, they journeyed 2,000 and 3,000 miles in their frail but unsinkable craft. From the bark of a small bush, they made paper cloth, which they dyed using juices from berries. A gift of that lovely tapa cloth was the most highly esteemed present. Cook received a number of those valuable pieces of tapa from native chiefs.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The people were governed by kings of giant stature, who were absolute and had power of life and death. Those rulers were believed equal to the gods, and the common people were made to lie on the ground when the king came forth. The king was clad in a feather robe. One of those royal feather cloaks, in the Bishop Museum in Honolulu, was valued at one million dollars. It took 100 years to make one, since it used feathers from a rare bird. So irregular were marital relations that the Hawaiian language when Cook arrived had no word for “father”, and the climate was so even, that it had no expression for “weather.” When Cook landed, in 1778, he was greeted as the God Lono. When one of Cook’s men died, the white men were recognized as mortal. Cook was killed in a fight, his flesh stripped from the bones and fed to dogs, and his heart preserved and hung in the rafters of a hut, where it was found by some boys, mistaken for the heart of a pig, and also eaten. Their ceremony of eating was far superior to those of Europe. Trunks of trees were fashioned into bowls and polished. There was no hasty use of both hands over fish, fowl, or pig. The Chief used the fingers of one hand to separate the flesh, and each morsel was conveyed to the lips with delicacy and grace. The priesthood of Hawaii was closely akin to that of the Jews in ancient Palestine – even in the manner of constructing their temples. The Hawaiians had their Temple of Refuge, where an accused person could seek shelter until the temple authorities could determine guilt or innocence. They had their purification of the temple with salt, similar to the ceremony in Palestine. They performed circumcisions as it was done in the Holy Land. They had their ashes and sackcloth. The priesthood was related to the government and to the direction of the habits of the rulers as the priesthood was related to the rulers in Palestine.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">American interest in the Hawaiian Islands really began with the sailing from Boston of the first company of missionaries in the fall of 1819. That little band embarked on the <em>Thaddeus</em> October 23 to take religious liberty and light as they conceived it to others. Some Hawaiian boys had been brought to New England by American Whalers. Their stories of the godlessness of their native islands inspired the people to send missionaries to the islands, then called the Sandwich Islands. Revival meetings were held and volunteers called for. Many offered service but only a few were chosen. Those were young men of virtue and intelligence. Most of them were unmarried, so volunteers were called for from among the young women. Among the chosen was Lucy Goodell, teacher. Four weeks later Lucy Goodell, as the wife of the Rev. Asa Thurston, sailed for Hawaii in the First Company. They were among several young couples, one of which included their five children. The Hawaiian Islands were very near, in 1924. Soon, there would be daylight flights from Honolulu to San Francisco. The author theorized a tourist going from Boston to Hawaii in three days by air transit. But so distant were the Islands from Boston in 1819 that it took seventeen months after the <em>Thaddeus</em> sailed for word of their arrival reached Massachusetts. The young missioners were pleasantly surprised when they landed in Hawaii. The climate was equable and healthful, and the natives were hospitable. They had not been advised that a few months before they had embarked Kamehameha the Great had died, and that his favorite widow had induced the people to shatter the old practices of tabu and idolatry, and had influenced the new king to eat in the company of women for the first time. The Hawaiians, having discarded their old rites as barbaric, were agreeable and receptive to new teachings. To win their confidence and support, all the Company needed was tact and evidence of character and sincerity, all of which they had in abundance.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The queen welcomed the New England costume as passionately as our modern ladies greeted the latest styles from London and Paris. One could not understand the story of Hawaii without the story of the <em>Thaddeus</em> and the other little ships which carried successive bands of missionary pioneers. The spiritual ideals which those devote men and women planted on those Islands were bearing fruit in 1924. In six years, they translated the Bible into the Hawaiian language, which they had reduced to writing; in 30 years they taught the entire nation to read and write. They saved the Hawaiian race from such ravages of disease and ignorance that had decimated the islanders of the South Pacific. They had hitched Hawaii’s wagon to a star. It was their children and grandchildren who guided the successive sovereigns of Hawaii in preventing its absorption by European powers, and who led the movement for independence and ultimate entrance of the Territory of Hawaii as an integral part of the U. S. The annexation of the Hawaiian Islands by the U. S. had turned out to be as good a bargain for the entire U.S. as it had proved for the Islands themselves. Great as was the value of Hawaii as the first line of America’s military and health defense in the Pacific, those advantages were ours without spending a single dollar of mainland money. The people of Hawaii paid for the operation of their own government and contributed to the National Treasury for the Territory’s defense. In fiscal year 1921, they paid, in customs duties and taxes, $22,000,000; in 1922, they paid more than $16,500,000. The cost to maintain a customshouse and postal service represented a very small fraction of those Federal taxes. Easily, the net payments in 1921 and 1922 were much more than the outlay in recent years for fortifications and naval-base improvement, which benefited the whole U. S. Indeed, those payments went far toward covering the cost of maintaining troops for the Islands’ protection.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The people of Hawaii paid for the maintenance of their own schools and roads, police protection, agricultural research, health agencies, etc. The quarter century that had passed since the American flag first floated over Hawaii had seen its people develop a loyalty to that flag as strong as that of “The Original Thirteen.” The people of Hawaii were sensitive of the score of popular misconception in America that their territory was an insular possession of the U. S. By treaty rather than purchase or conquest, the Islands became an integral part of the U. S. Their citizens were entitled to all the benefits of congressional legislation. Nineteen States paid less in taxes than Hawaii and got Federal aid, but the Territory of Hawaii was excluded. The author and his wife’s visit to Hawaii was in June and July. The voyage from the mainland occupied six or seven days, through quiet seas. They were not ready for the great enterprising metropolis of Honolulu which greeted them. The mercury stood at 80 degrees F., but there was no sultriness; a sea breeze and a mountain breeze fanned the town, and the purple nights were cool and delicious. Their first excursion was up Nuuanu Valley to view the grand panorama from the precipice called the Pali, which was Oahu’s scenic lion. They looked down into what was left of an immense volcanic crater, which, in ages past, was 25 miles in diameter. One-half of the crater had sloughed off into the sea. Pali was a natural wonder. From its sheer edge, the splendid panoramic view of the windward side of the island was spread out at the observer’s feet – a view of rugged mountain cliffs, of country side, of quiet bays, of coral strands, and of open sea. With its long, vertical crater wall standing abreast of the northeast trade winds, and with the elevation favorable to bring about abundant rainfall on the leeward side, it had been furrowed from end to end into a series of deep lateral valleys. Perhaps their most vivid memories of that world-famous view were the enchanting notes of the Manchurian thrush which, imported some years prior, nested abundantly among the peaks and cliffs.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Judging from their experience, the trades rushed across the Pali with as great a force as when Admiral Wilkes visited 80 years before 1924, and noted in his record, “… the trade is blowing strong, it is impossible to stand with safety.” Those trade winds brought from the sea their burden of moisture. Yet on the leeward slopes were found a dry realm of such startling contrast that much substantiation was necessary to be convincing. Awini, at an elevation of 2,100 feet, in the North Kohala hills of Hawaii, had an annual rainfall of 167.68 inches, while the yearly amount of only 16.60 inches was gaged at Mahukona, about nine miles leeward. Nahiku, windward of Haleakala, Maui, received annually about 300 inches, while Waiopai Ranch, leeward of Haleakala, only 25.39 inches. Puu Kukui received normally 370 inches, while Camp No. 7, only 8½ miles distant, received only 15.66 inches. In 1918, Puu Kukui received 562 inches, while Camp No 7 received only 2½ inches of rain in 1912. The wet places mentioned were dry when compared with Mt. Waialeale, Kauai, elevation 5,080 feet, with a normal precipitation of 476 inches annually. Only some fourteen miles leeward of the mountain was Waiawa, receiving 22.31 inches of rain annually. The higher levels of Mauna Loa and Mauna Kea, Hawaii, and Halekala, Maui, were frequently white with snow, and transient snow had been seen on the crest of Mt. Waialeale, Kauai. It was doubtful that frost ever formed below the 2,500-foot level over the entire group of islands, and rarely below 4,000 feet. From the warmth of summer to the chill of high-level winter, from the arid plains to zones of heavy rains, from sunshine to fog-draped crests, one found, perhaps, greater climatic changes than could be found elsewhere within so limited an area. Roughly computed, the annual mean temperature was 75.55 degrees F., with a divergence in either direction of 7.55 degrees. As a rule, the temperature was cooler by four degrees for every thousand feet in altitude.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The 47 sugar-producing corporations of the Islands had combined to support a world-famous experiment station in Honolulu, so knowledge could be shared on improving production and lowering cost. Samples of soil from every cane field were sent to the station yearly, where they were analyzed and an appropriate ration was formulated for each field. Soil analysis, seedling introduction, cane-disease prevention, variety adaptation, and parasite elimination had all served to enable Hawaii to lead the world in the acreage production of sugar. On the windward side of the island of Hawaii, sugar could be grown without irrigation. On the leeward side of that island, the crop was produced entirely by irrigation. Irrigated, Maui Island produced about 15,000 pound of sugar per acre per year; Hawaii, 8,000 pounds; Cuba, 4,900 pounds; while Louisiana produces only 2,620. The record for one acre on Maui was 10½ tons. On the island of Kauai, two plantations had forty miles of tunnels and ditches for irrigation. A plantation on Oahu had an aqueduct nearly fifteen miles long; it pierced the Koolau mountain range with a tunnel 14,443 feet long. Vast reservoirs for impounding water were constructed to maintain a constant supply, which at times reached 50,000,000 gallons a Day. One plantation used as much water as San Francisco. Through selection of cane varieties and matching them to the right soils, Hawaii was able to nearly double Cuba’s per acre yield, with Hawaii’s cane yielding more sugar per ton. Most of Hawaii’s sugar was produced on irrigated land; Cuba’s was not. Much of Hawaii’s cane was transported to the mills by flume; Cuba’s could not.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">There was no phase of Nature in Hawaii more interesting than the struggle between the sugar planters and the insect enemies of cane. Nowhere else in the world better exemplified the ravages of invasive species than Hawaii. Its climate was ideally suited for numerous tropical and subtropical insects. With no natural predators, they began to spread, rapidly colonizing the country. Typical among the stowaways that came to Hawaii were the cane borers and the cane leaf hoppers. The borer was a beetle and the hopper a kind of plant louse. They effected their entrance on importations of cane seed and cuttings. As years passed, they both became so numerous that they threatened to destroy the sugar industry in Hawaii. The sugar planters organized an experimental station whose duties included the discovery and importation of natural enemies of the borers and hoppers. In 1906, Mr. F. Muir began the quest for the enemies of the cane borer. First, he went to China but found no borers. Then he tried Malasia, Java, and Borneo with no luck. He sailed to the Molucca Islands Visiting Amboina of that group, he still found no trace. He visited the islands of Larat, via Kei and Aru Islands, and finally located the borer, not only in cane, but also in pinang and sago palms. Next, he searched for their parasites, but found none on Larat. Realizing the borer also attacked sago palms, Mr. Muir returned to Amboina and found the borer abundant in them. There, he found it attacked by a little fly that laid its eggs in the borer’s larvae. After repeated efforts to import the flies to Hawaii failed, with the flies dying before reaching their destination, finally, on August 16, 1910, he arrived at Honolulu with living flies. Once safely in Hawaii, the flies began to spread rapidly and to work havoc among the borers. So effective were those parasites that the borer had become a negligible factor in cane-growing.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12369415301?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12369415301?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-full"/></a></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">An even greater threat to the sugar industry than the borer developed two decades prior when the leaf hoppers grew numerous. On a single infested plantation production fell from 19,000 tons to 3,000 in three years. It was ascertained that the pests had been imported as stowaways on seed cane brought from Australia. Studying the hopper in its native habitat, one by one its enemies were discovered. One was almost microscopic, laying eggs in the hopper which hatch and devour the pest. Another insect had an even more successful campaign against the hopper. It laid its eggs in the hopper’s eggs. So again, the Hawaiian sugar industry was saved. There were other insect pests imported which did not affect the sugar crop. One was a fly brought from Mexico on a shrub called the lantana. That fly had no natural enemies and spread rapidly. In a few years, that Mexican shrub was relegated to the conquered dangers. Two other pests had been smuggled into Hawaii that were proving dangerous to the fruit and melon crops – the Mediterranean fruit fly and the melon fly. The fruit fly was one of the most dangerous of all fruit pests. It attacked 72 different kinds of fruit. It had reached Honolulu in 1910 by way of Australia, and had spread to every island within four years. The female drilled little holes through the rind and laid her eggs in them. When the maggots hatched, they feasted on the fruit. One fruit, the papaya seemed immune to the fruit fly. It possessed a rich supply of vegetable pepsin that quickly digested the fly’s eggs. Four species of parasites that laid their eggs in the fruit fly’s larvae had been imported from Africa and Australia. The melon fly attacked melons in much the same way as the fruit fly. Its parasites had not yet been found, since the economic interests of the melon growers had never been important enough to warrant a search. Both those flies were potential stowaways to the U. S., and the Department of Agriculture was sparing no effort to keep them out of the country.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The author’s party visited a pineapple cannery in Honolulu which employed 4,000 people, two-thirds of them women. Long trains of freight cars loaded with golden fruit were arriving every few minutes. The women were separated according to their race; the Chinese at one set of tables, the Japanese at another, etc. Each group strove to outdo the other in production. Once discarded as rubbish, the pineapple, in 1924, constituted the second industry of the Territory, its crop valued only below that of sugar. The first pineapples were brought to Hawaii from the East Indies and were planted in Oahu. The endeavor failed due to its own success. The markets in Honolulu were flooded with the fruit; prices fell, and the planters suffered a big lose. Most plants were destroyed, but a few homesteaders, enamored with the flavor of the new fruit, planted some in their gardens. In time they established a cannery for the surplus fruit, and from that modest beginning had developed into an industry which, in 1923, shipped more than five million cases of the canned fruit to the markets of the world. Sugar had brought the Islands great wealth, but also the most complicated racial mixture and problems to be found anywhere in the world. To work the fields, many thousands of Chinese, Portuguese, Japanese, Koreans, and Filipinos were brought to the Islands. The population in 1924 was about 41.7% Japanese, 8.6% Chinese, 8.4% Filipino, 14.8% Hawaiian and semi-Hawaiian, 12.4% Latin (mainly Portuguese), and 11.8% White. Since 1914, the death rate for the pure Hawaiian had exceeded the birth rate. Filipinos were attracted by high wages, move to the Territory. Among the best workers were the Ilocanos, who brought cock-fighting with them. The Japanese did not intermarry with other races. The birth and death rates were favorable to the Japanese. By 1940, about 47% of the voters would be of that race.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12369415494?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12369415494?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-full"/></a></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The author’s party attended a dance given to the graduating class of the normal school in Honolulu. It was an inspiring example of the beneficial influence of the American public-school system. The bright faces of the boys and girls revealed many racial mixtures. They especially admired a young Chinese couple. Both were born in the Territory of Chinese immigrants. She had graduated the school and held a secretarial position in the U. S. customs. The young man had studied at the University of Kansas. They also attended an illustrated lecture given for the benefit of the Red Cross by Ex-Governor George R. Carter in a country schoolhouse, on the island of Hawaii. The first two rows were packed with jolly, mischievous boys of 8 to 12 years of age of all racial mixtures. A glance at a map of the Pacific reminded the reader of the geographical importance of the Islands. They commanded every trade route of consequence to China and the Orient across the Pacific. The Islands were in fact the key to the Pacific, a lonely American sentinel on guard for American interests. Their strategic importance to the U.S. had been vastly increased by the recent extraordinary improvement of airplanes and airships. A way had to be found to keep the Territory American, even with the oriental elements so predominant in the population. It would be difficult to overestimate the strategic value of the Territory of Hawaii in the protection of our West Coast from invasion. Happily, the treaties drawn by the Washington Conference on the Limitation of Armaments had been ratified by the U. S. and Japan and the prospect of war between them had hopefully disappeared. Before that conference the distrust of each of those countries was leading them towards a struggle which neither of them desired and both dreaded; but none the less a struggle for which each felt it must be prepared.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The military and naval authorities of the U. S. had made a careful study of the course such a war would take and the role Hawaii would play. With an adequate naval base at Pearl Harbor, and the American fleet stationed there, Japan could not make a dangerous assault upon the mainland coast or the Panama Canal. Her navy would have come six thousand miles, and would face a stronger fleet between it and home. On the other hand, Hawaii could not be used as a base of direct attack against Japan. The distance from Honolulu to Yokohama was 3,400 miles. The naval authorities of both countries recognized that fact. So far from our continental coasts, then, as to be an effective and specific guarantee against attack from the Orient, and at the same time so remote from the Asiatic shores as to not menace them, Hawaii served an admirable role strategically, so long as it was held by our forces, being the impregnable outer defense of our coastline and at the same time not a peace-time menace to any possible enemy. In outlined the probable course that a war between the U. S. and Japan would take, it would start with the conquest of Guam by Japan followed by an attack on the Philippines. After that, Japan might settle down and await the U. S. counterattack, with Japan being in a strong, defensive position. To assure holding the Philippines in case of war with Japan, the U. S. would have to fortify Guam and make a major naval station there. Such a station would menace Japan as much as protect the Philippines. Under the naval treaty, the naval base at Guam would not be built, and the menace to Japan would disappear. Pearl Harbor was one of the finest natural naval bases in the World. It was impossible and unnecessary to fortify the Hawaiian Islands; there were no other Hawaiian harbors that would have given a hostile navy a foothold from which to defy our fleet.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12369415889?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12369415889?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-full"/></a></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">But Hawaii was valuable strategically not only from a military and naval standpoint. It was equally important as an outpost against oriental diseases, many of which would get a foothold on our shores except for the watchfulness of our quarantine officials. Most of the passengers who traveled from Asia to the West Coast took passage on ships stopping in Honolulu, where ship and passenger inspection were required. That inspection, after 4,500 miles at sea, revealed the heath status on board, and thus Hawaii became the heath sentinel of America. Hawaii was also placed strategically in the crossroads of Pacific commerce. Honolulu was the transfer point for the freights of five continents, and the majority of the trans-Pacific lines made it a port of call. The visitor to the Territory was continually astonished at the variety and magnificence of the scenery afforded by the different islands. Kauai, called the Garden Island because of the luxuriance of its vegetation, possessed a series of canyons that were remarkable in their splendor of color. Oahu’s loveliness of mountain and forest was supplemented by the manifestations of the inventiveness of Americans. The little double island of Maui contained the greatest extinct volcano in the world, Haleakala, gulches overgrown with weird plants, a canyon reminiscent of Yosemite, and sea drives with cliffs and water reminiscent of the Amalfi coast of Italy. The largest island, Hawaii, had the only active volcanoes in the group – the red lake of Kilauea, easily accessible by automobile road to its brink, and Mauna Loa, the world’s greatest active volcano. The naturalist and student could find enjoyment for a lifetime in investigating and collecting shells, plants, and folklore. The tiny islands at the western end of the Territory formed the Hawaiian Bird Reservation. They supported the most interesting bird colonies in the world. These included plovers and other migratory birds. Some would travel over 6,000 miles between winter and summer nesting grounds.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">All the larger islands of the Territory possessed numerous remains of ancient Hawaiian temples, fish ponds of enormous size and cleverly constructed, and curious artificial slides that were used for a sport called summer tobogganing. The goddess of the volcano, Pele, was supposed to delight in those contests, coming disguised in some earthly form. The sport had long been lost, but fortunately, another exciting sport, surf-riding, was revived, before it had become a lost art. Upon arriving in Honolulu, the visitor’s first question was “Where are the volcanoes?” Shells of dead craters marked the Islands everywhere. Diamond Head, and the Punch Bowl, in the city itself, were perfect tufa cones. But the most interesting volcanic creations were on the islands of Maui and Hawaii. After a horseback excursion to Iao Valley and lunch in the tropical gardens at Wailuku, Maui, on mangoes, avocado, and breadfruit, swiftly by automobile the author’s party ascended from rice and sugarcane fields to acres that shipped wheat, potatoes, and corn to California in the Gold Rush of ’49, proceeding from the tropics to the temperate zone in less than an hour. From Olinda, about 4,000 feet up on the flank of Haleakala, they took horses to the edge of the mammoth crater. In four hours, they had mounted from sea level to far above the clouds. There, at an elevation of nearly two miles, they found a large stone house with room enough for twenty people to bunk comfortably. The panorama of cloud and mountain and valley and the glories of sunrise and sunset from the Haleakala crater rim had been described y Mark Twain and other gifted writers. In succeeding days, they descended into the vast crater abyss. Their host, and companion, was a banker and pineapple grower who had come to the Islands from the mainland as a young man and succeeded. He was a member of the second shipload of missionaries.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Hilo, the capital of the island of Hawaii, was an enchanting little city of about 10,000. It stretched along the bay of the same name. It was situated on the slopes of the two active volcanoes of Kilauea and Mauna Loa. There were records of as many as 70 earthquakes daily for a month. The quakes, most of them imperceptible, were not dangerous, nor were the outburst from the volcanoes. During more than 100 years since missionaries had landed, there had not been a single death in the Territory caused by volcanic eruption. The same could not be said of the tidal waves that had raged against all the shores of the island and at times brought great destruction. Though called a mountain, Kilauea Volcano had not the slightest resemblance to a mountain, being a great cup-like depression in an extensive plain. In the center of the depression was a deep throat in which red-hot lava rose and fell like mercury in a thermometer. Perched on the edge of the volcano was the laboratory and home of Dr. Thomas A Jaggar, who for 15 years had been the Director of the Hawaiian Volcano Observatory. Forewarned of prospective eruptions by the earthquakes his instrument recorded, Dr. Jaggar would proceed to the locality to photograph and take notes of the eruption. He secured a complete photographic history of the Alika river erupting from the flank of Mauna Loa in 1919, one of the tremendous lava flows of the century. The author’s party tarried several days around Kilauea, but ever on the horizon towered Mauna Loa. A half-way house had been built at 10,500 feet, and a trail broken to the summit by a company of American soldiers. With the help of Dr. Jaggar, they hired seven mules and two guides and were off. Their trail was fairly even and the grade of ascent so gradual as to be almost imperceptible. No chasms or ravines interrupted their progress, as on the older islands, their absence attested the youth of that part of the mountain.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Several miles out they passed through a forest of giant koa, some of which had straight trunks running up 50 feet without a limb. The vegetation soon became sparce, and then the last vestige of green disappeared. Mauna Loa, above 8,000 feet, proved to be a frightful desert. That desert was composed of a great sea of lava. At the end of nine hours of easy traveling, they reached the rest-house at Puu Ulaula, where they spent the night. They had been keeping a strenuous program for some weeks, and enjoyed the comfort of that rest-house, with its roomy bunks, wood stove, and tight walls, which shut out the cold and wind. Resuming their journey to the crater the next morning, they passed strings of “coke ovens,” originally gas vents whose domes had collapsed. The ascent continued so gradual that they were hardly conscious of the fact that they were mounting with ever step. A few miles farther on, thy traversed a lumpy, rolling sheet of colored glass, extending as far as the eye could reach, glistening at times. Next, they passed a perfectly symmetrical blood-red cone in a frozen jet-black sea of obsidian. A few hundred yards farther on were a red cone and a black cone side by side. An hour later, they noticed a tongue of brilliant red AA lava which had thrust across a field of yellow volcanic sand. As they crossed a jet-black flow of congealed lava, they skirted a bright red-brick cone. They traveled through that frightful waste on a well-marked trail, comfortable on their able mules. About noon they reached the edge of the crater. Several hundred feet below them stretched the crater floor, an extensive gray, slaty, hard surface, rather rough and exhibiting no sign of warmth or activity, except in the further corner where some steam was slowly rising. That gray floor temporarily capped a gusher that had been operating for thousands of years.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">There were four great mountains which formed the island of Hawaii, Mauna Kea was 13,823 feet high. After it was raised, new outlets formed – Hualalai, 8,269 feet, and Kilauea. Then the energies erected Mauna Loa, the giant of them all – a tremendous turtle-back 60 miles across and 200 miles circumference at sea level. Mauna Loa was probably still in its prime. It was so lofty that the lava now found egress from its flanks rather than from its summit crater. They could not linger more than an hour at the crater rim, as it was essential to return to the half-way house before dark. Someday, they hoped that the marvelous experience which had been their privilege would be available to many. At present [in 1924], the excursion to the summit was not popular. For the traveler afoot the distance between rest-houses was taxing. For those who rode, it was difficult to rent mules. Later, Mauna Loa would be made accessible by easy trails, hotels, and rest-houses, and be, like Etna, in Sicily, or Haleakala, on Maui, the common resort of tourists, alpinists, and the people of the Islands. Its wonderful forest glades, deep clefts, lava cones and pits, cliffs, vistas, and climates were, at present [in 1924], unknown; and yet that volcanic height was one of the marvels of the world, unique among our national parks.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">As mentioned above, the article contains a set of sixteen full-page duotones from page 159 to page 174. These duotones have the internal title “Some of Nature’s Scenic Gifts to Hawaii.” Duotones, formerly called photogravures, are transfers produced using acid etched metal plates, with the resulting image impinged to paper. The deeper the etch, the darker the transfer. They use a special ink. The ink used in this batch has a distinct brownish tint.</span></p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12369416299?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12369416299?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-full"/></a></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">A list of caption titles for these duotones is as follows:</span></p>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“A Hawaiian Landscape”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“A River of Molten Lava from Mauna Loa Pouring into the Ocean”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Heavy Seas Girdle the Islands with Perpetual Thunder: on the Oahu Coast”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“A Sailing Double Canoe Skirting the Shores of Coconut Island Near Hilo”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“An Afternoon Shower: on the Right of a Field of Sugar in Flower: Hilo”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“A Giant Tree Fern on the Island of Hawaii”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“The Roadside at Lahaina: The Island of Maui”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“In the Harbor of Honolulu”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“A Sugar-Cane Flume North of Hilo”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Flowering Rice Fields with Water Buffalo: Oahu”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Children Clothed in Nothing but Sunshine”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“The Imposing Cliffs of Iao Valley, on the Island of Maui: The Dark Vertical Streaks Become Waterfalls During Rainstorms”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“A Cliff Side in a Luxuriant Glen on the Slopes of Haleakala, Maui”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“A Gulch in Kauai, Hawaiian Islands”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Wailua Falls, on the Island of Kauai”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“The Famous Silver Sword Plant of Haleakala, Found in the Extinct Crater of Haleakala, on the Island of Maui”</span></li>
</ul>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">As also mentioned above, the article contains sixteen color plates containing twenty-one colorized black-and-white photographs. These plates are numbered I through XVI in Roman numerals, and represent pages 191 through 206. These plates have the internal title “Colorful Wonders of the Hawaiian Islands.”</span></p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12369417090?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12369417090?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-full"/></a></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">A list of the caption titles to the twenty-one color photos together with plate number are as follows: (Note: three plates have more than one photo on it.)</span></p>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“A Hawaiian Chieftain of the Old Days Wearing Costly Robes of Feathers and Feather Helmet, and Carrying a Kahili, or Fly-Flap, Also Made of Feathers” (I)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Waimea Canyon on the Island of Kauai” (II)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“The Queen’s Mantle – The Feather Cloak of Kiwalao” (III)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Gazing into the Pit of Everlasting Fire: Halemaumau, Kilauea” (IV)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“A Giant Fountain of Flame in the Fiery Lake” (IV)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“A View of the Lake, Showing Several of the Islands, or Crags” (IV)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“A Row of Fountains Playing in a Tunnel Beneath One of the Crags Out in the Lake” (V)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Ravenous Billows of Lava Undermining Cliffs of Adamantine Rock” (V)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“A River of Fire: Hawaii National Park” (V)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“A Dying Cone Which Has Emitted a Flow of Lava as Black as Ink on the Slopes of Mauna Loa” (VI)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“A Close View of the Fiery Lake, Halemaumau, Kilauea” (VII)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Entering the World’s Vastest Extinct Crater, Haleakala, on the Island of Maui” (VIII)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Two of the Sixteen Gorgeously Colored Dead Cones, Varying from 600 to 1,000 Feet in Height” (IX)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Riding the Surf at Waikiki, Honolulu” (X)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“A Field of Pineapples on the Island of Oahu” (XI)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Tree Shells (Achatinella) of the Hawaiian Islands” (XII)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Bougainvillaea-bowered St. Clemens Church, Honolulu” (XIII)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“The Flame Tree, or <em>Poinciana regia</em>, in the Garden of William R. Castle” (XIII)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Hanalei Bay, Island of Kauai, One of the Scenes Which Has Won for the Hawaiian Islands the Name “Paradise of the Pacific”” (XIV)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“As Dies the Day in Hilo, Island of Hawaii” (XV)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Fishing at Night in Hawaiian Islands” (XVI)</span></li>
</ul>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12343017656?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12343017656?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-full"/></a></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Tom Wilson</span></p> National Geographic issue with most pages?tag:ngscollectors.ning.com,2024-01-27:1029239:Topic:2986712024-01-27T18:21:04.361ZRobert Zelenakhttps://ngscollectors.ning.com/profile/RobertZELENAK
<p>Would anyone be able to tell me what National Geographic magazine issue was the thickest, most pages? I’m guessing it was probably December 1988?</p>
<p>That was the hologram issue!!</p>
<p>Would anyone be able to tell me what National Geographic magazine issue was the thickest, most pages? I’m guessing it was probably December 1988?</p>
<p>That was the hologram issue!!</p> 100 Years Ago: January 1924tag:ngscollectors.ning.com,2023-12-30:1029239:Topic:2974892023-12-30T16:29:46.859ZGeorge Thomas Wilsonhttps://ngscollectors.ning.com/profile/GeorgeThomasWilson
<p><span style="font-size: 18pt;"><strong>One Hundred Years Ago: January 1924</strong></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><em><strong>This is the 108<sup>th</sup> entry in my series of reviews of one-hundred-year-old National Geographic Magazines.</strong></em></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> …</span></p>
<p></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 18pt;"><strong>One Hundred Years Ago: January 1924</strong></span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><em><strong>This is the 108<sup>th</sup> entry in my series of reviews of one-hundred-year-old National Geographic Magazines.</strong></em></span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The first article in this month’s issue is entitled “A Visit to Carlsbad Cavern, New Mexico” and was written by Willis T. Lee. It has the descriptive internal subtitle, “Recent Explorations of a Limestone Cave in the Guadalupe Mountains of New Mexico Reveal a Natural Wonder of the First Magnitude.” The article contains thirty-four black-and-white photographs of which fourteen are full-page in size.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Occasionally, a matter-of-fact statement of a geographic discovery sounded incredible. Such was the case with Jim Bridger’s first accounts of the Yellowstone geysers. The giant Redwoods of California would seem like a fairytale setting were a returning traveler to tell of their dimensions for the first time. Only recently, a new phenomenon, the Valley of Ten Thousand Smokes, Alaska, taxed comprehension until National Geographic photographs authenticated its prankish natural wonders. In 1923 came the announcement of a remarkable cavern among the eastern foothills of the Guadalupe Mountains, in southeastern New Mexico – the Carlsbad Cavern, so named for the little town about thirty miles to the northwest. The less scenic part had been known locally for many years as a bat cave and a source of guano. Recently, explorers traversed several miles of its hills and chambers, and some parts of it were found to have such startling magnificence that, on October 25, 1923. By proclamation of President Cooledge, it was set aside as the Carlsbad National Monument. On the 30-mile ride from Carlsbad to the cave, interest never flagged. There was a varied display of prickly pears and melon cactus, and the scraggly leafless stalks of ocotillo. Spanish daggers, Spanish bayonets, and sotol plants were numerous. Century plants of several varieties were abundant. The cavern was reached over a road sadly in need of improvement. It was kept passable by each vehicle following the tracks of the one that had gone before, until the ruts became too deep, when a new route was sought out. Two hours of jolting into the ruts and out of them brought the author’s party to the foot of a steep, rocky slope of barren limestone. Up that rocky slope they made their laborious way to a bench on the mountain side, about 1,000 feet above the valley. Some of the party remained in the jolting machines; others preferred to walk.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">At the entrance to the cave, they were surprised to find several dwellings, an engine-house, two hoist-shafts, and other evidence of activity. It seemed that from prehistoric times the cave had been the home of countless numbers of bats. For several years, quantities of guano had been shipped from it. Although work was not in progress at the time of their visit, the hoist machine was in working order, and by means of it the descent was made. The natural opening to the cave was not used in 1924, and much work needed to be done before access through it would be safe. It consisted of a large hole, 100 feet or more across, from which the rocks had fallen into the cavern below, about 170 feet. That opening widened downward, somewhat like an inverted funnel. That natural opening was used by the bats. At dusk, they began to leave the cave for their night of foraging. For about three hours the winged stream resembled smoke pouring from a smokestack. It was equally fascinating in the early morning to watch those same countless thousands returning home. The guide started his engine and the elevator was ready for operation. It consisted of a steel bucket at the end of a wire rope which passes over a pulley at the top of a derrick and was lowered through an artificial opening, or shaft, constructed for hoisting guano from the cave. The bucket held two people, if they stood closely and held on to the wire rope. Slowly they descended into the Stygian darkness. On reaching the bottom they devoted some time to get their “cave eyes” and to preparing the torches which were to furnish light on their subterranean journey. Gradually, as they became accustom to the gloom, they realized the enormity of underground cavity they had invaded. The opening of the shaft above them was a mere speck of light. Soon their eyes adjusted to the dim light, the rugged sides of the cavern took form and they found themselves in a passageway of unusual width, with arched roof so far above that their torches only dimly lit it.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The bats were found chiefly in the part of the cave east of the shaft. The scenic portions, toward which they made their way, lied in the opposite direction. For some distance the route was not difficult, but the pathway was rough, for the lower part of the cave was filled with angular locks of rock fallen from the walls and ceiling. Very little accurate information relative to that cave was available. Few measurements had been made. The guide was the only source of such meager information as could be obtained. Mostly he provided hair-raising yarns. About a half a mile from the foot of the shaft, they entered the part of the cave reserved as a national monument and soon passed beneath the natural opening. That opening, far above them, which seemed so awesome at the surface, appeared from the floor of the spacious cavern like a small and very inconspicuous aperture. As they proceeded, they gradually made their way deeper into the earth. For nearly a mile they traversed a passage of astonishing dimensions. The walls were very irregular, approaching to within 100 feet of each other in a few places, then receding in lateral chambers many times that width. At the side of the passageway were many alcoves opening into rooms. In most places the walls were rough and jagged, where masses of rock had fallen. But in a few places the walls were smooth, polished by water which flowed ages ago. There was relatively little dripstone in that part of the cave. And yet every now and again, as a beam of light was directed into the darkness, one was startled at the sight of a snow-white figure perched on some rock, like a ghost on a tombstone. Those were stalagmites built up by the slow dripping of water charged with carbonate of calcium from the limestone roof. A few of those stalagmites had been built up into ornately decorated columns. In a few places the deposits of carbonate of lime had accumulated against the side walls, where water trickled from the rock. To distinguish that material from that deposited by dripping water, it was called flowstone.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">But those formations, both of flowstone and of dripstone, were so much more numerous, varied, and ornate farther on, that they hastened over that first part of the journey for the more spectacular scenes beyond. Nearly a mile from the foot of the shaft, or a quarter of a mile from the natural opening, an obstacle was encountered, a pit 150 feet deep and extending entirely across the cavern suddenly yawned in their path. It was called Yeitso’s Den. The sides were so steep that footholds were cut, and a wire furnished a handhold. Into that den they slid and lowered their weary bodies onto a shelf. After a brief rest, they started the ascent out of the pit, but fortunately the rise on that side was only 90 feet. They drew their weary feet up from shelf to shelf, securing a handhold here and a toehold there. Their labors were by no means at an end when they reached the top, for almost immediately they started down another declivity, clambering over angular rocks and crawling through low, narrow passages. Soon after leaving Yeitso’s Den, they entered the spectacular part of Carlsbad Cavern. There they found chambers of unbelievable dimensions. Their way led ever downward over enormous jagged blocks of limestone fallen from the roof. The chambers in that part of the cave were several hundred feet wide and the vaulted ceiling so far above them that in some places they were not able to see it. Their feeble lights only magnified the void. At the foot of a great heap of rocks 700 feet below the surface entrance, they entered one of the spectacular parts of Carlsbad Caverns. Three large chambers there opened off the main hall. The largest was called Shinav’s Wigwam. The smallest of the three rooms was semicircular in outline and was 160 feet long by 140 feet wide. The middle room was about three times that size and the first one much larger. No measurements were made of the larger rooms.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The chambers about the Wigwam were separated from the master room by curtains and partitions of gleaming onyx formed by the deposition of lime carbonate from water dripping from the roof. The great dome was so high that it was only dimly illuminated by the torches. Most of the ceiling was covered in dripstone. Thousands of stalactites hung singly, in doublets, in triplets, and in groups. They ranged from a few inches in length to the entire height of the room, and in diameter from that of a pencil to many feet thick. In places they hung so thickly that they coalesced at the top, forming spiny masses weighing thousands of tons. The stalagmites were not so numerous as the stalactites in that group of chambers. There were some notable masses of onyx rising as mounds and monuments from the general level, but over surprisingly large areas, the floor was smooth and one could wander at will. In places the stalactites had grown together laterally and formed curtains. Some of those reached the floor, others seem partly raised to reveal a stage set with actors of fantastic aspect. The unusual forms in the cavern had not yet been named. One of the members of the party suggested they use Indian myths, which had already been drawn upon for some names. In some places the dripstone of the curtains reached the floor and formed solid partitions between the rooms. Some of the side chambers were entered through narrow opening in those partitions; other through wider passageways. One small chamber off Shinav’s Wigwam had been called the “Crow’s Nest.” It was 50 feet in diameter and so thick with slender stalactites that one could not pass through it without destroying scores of them. The stalagmite growths rising from the floor were scarcely less varied and delicate. The most spectacular part of the cavern was reserved as the final scene of an eventful trip. Leaving the Wigwam, they retraced their steps for a short distance, climbed a steep hill, and made their way through a heap of rocks and over ledges.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">After a half hour’s struggle, they entered the Big Room. The author thought the name appropriate. It was more than half a mile in length and averaged many hundred feet wide. The sided receded in places to such great distances that their lights failed to illuminate the walls. A few side trips revealed alcoves uninterrupted for hundreds of feet. They repeatedly tried to estimate the height of the ceiling. In places where it was dimly lit by their torches, they guessed it to be 200 feet above them. In other places it was so high that even a strong electric torch could not illuminate it. The Big Room had astonishing proportions. The author was amazed that an open space of such dimensions was to be found underground. The Big Room was probably as remarkable for ornate decorations as it was for size. Dripstone decorations occurred in infinite variety of size and shape. There were thousands of pendants, some so delicate and slender that they would have broken under the slightest pressure; some so massive that one marveled that the enormous weight was sustained. The stalagmites, rising from the floor like monuments in a churchyard, were no less varied. One group, in which the forms were unusually tall and graceful, had been called the Totem Poles. Some, only a few feet in diameter, rose to an estimated height of 50 feet. Many of the stalagmites in that part of the cave had blunt, rounded ends and were composed of material which seemed to differ from that of the surrounding forms. In the dim light those rounded masses resembled ice. Some stalagmites were of unusual dimensions. The “Twin Domes” were more than 100 feet high and more than 200 feet across the base. Some of the most interesting features in the floor of the Big Room were grouped about the basins of extinct springs. Some of the basins were 10 feet or more deep and 50 feet across. They were lined with an unknown thickness of onyx and their profuse decorations resembled some of the hot springs in Yellowstone National Park.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The interior of each fountainlike basin was covered with delicate fretwork, and the rim appeared just as it was built out long ago by overflowing water, into a variety of forms. A type of decoration frequently seen was called by some toadstools, and by others was likened to lily pads. Each pad consisted of a thin sheet of onyx which grew from the center in concentric rings outward to a knife-edge. Those sheets were a foot or two across and each rested on a strong pedestal. The edge of the “lily pad” represented the formal level of the water. Now [in1924], they stood like campstools. The entire party entered one of those dry fountains. Each member chose one of the stools upon which to sit; they took a few-minute break before resuming their journey. In many places stalactites and stalagmites had joined to form columns of impressive dimensions. Near the end of the Big Room was a small opening in the floor. The party suggested naming it “Nalin’s Hogan, earth lodge of Night Girl (Goddess of Death). One member was lowered down the “hogan” by rope to the bottom, about 200 feet. There he found other chambers and hallways, through one of which flowed a stream of clear water. At the extreme end of the Big Room the floor fell away abruptly to a depth of 100 feet in a great depression 200 feet across. Some had named that hollow “Dante’s Trail;” others called it “Shipapu’s Hole.” At Shipapu’s Hole their pathway suddenly ended. There, too, their journey ended, for the guide reminded them the difficulties of retracing their steps. Reluctantly, they returned, snatching glimpses of scores of objects as fascinating as those already seen. The surface was reached just at dusk, where they watched for a time the swarm of bats leaving the cavern. The cavern alone was a noteworthy addition to the exceptional variety of geographic wonders of the U. S., each distinctive in its kind, but fortunately it was surrounded by features which enhanced its future scenic value.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">In southeastern New Mexico were mountains, almost 10,000 feet high, carved, by erosion, into a remarkable series of sharp ridges and steep gorges. The rocks of those mountains consisted of limestone of the late Paleozoic age, in thick, massive layers which sloped gentle to the east and passed under red sandy shale in the Pecos Valley. The shale contained thick beds of gypsum and rock salt, which dissolved in the circulating underground water. The limestone also was soluble, but less readily than salt and gypsum, and because of that fact, the cavern in it were formed slowly, but became enormously large, and endured through long ages. Carlsbad Cavern was only one of more than a dozen known to exist in the Guadalupe Mountains. The plants near Carlsbad Cavern were of great interest. That part of New Mexico had a warm, semi-arid climate in which thrived a variety of plants of amazing shape. They gave to the landscape a strange aspect that was the source of never-ending delight to visitors. The predominating characteristic was thorniness. There were thorn bushes and thorn trees; thorned shrubs with spike-like leaves; Spanish bayonets and Spanish daggers. This was the country of prickly pears and cat’s claws; sagebrush and greasewood; thorny mesquite and screw beans, and many, less familiar forms of plant life. The beauty of a cactus in bloom and of the great flower stalks of the century plant was well known. Probably the most interesting plant near Carlsbad Cavern – certainly the most prolific one – was the sotol, of which there were many closely related species. The one which grew luxuriantly near the cave was known as <em>Dasylirion leiophyllum</em>. Occasionally a plant was seen with a fruit stalk emerging from the center of its leafy crown, but most of them were without fruit stalk, for the plant died after fruiting. The sotol was used for food for cattle, and formerly, it was used as food by the natives. When fermented, it also produced an intoxicating drink called “sotol.”</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The second item listed on the cover is entitled “Fantastic Plants of Our Western Deserts” and has no byline. It is not an article but a set of eight full-page duotones which seems to be a companion piece with the first article. These duotones are sandwiched between the first and second articles. Duotones, formerly called photogravures, are images produced by transferring a special ink to paper from an acid-etched metal plate. The deeper the etch, the darker the transfer.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Here is a list of the caption titles from the eight duotones:</span></p>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“A Flower Sentinel and Its Natural Pediment”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“This Plant is a Boon to Indians”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“A Specimen of the Cancer Cactus”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“A Sahara of Giant Cactus”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“The White Cholla”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Two Lilies of the Desert”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“A Cactus that Provides Water”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“A Tree Lily (<em>Yucca elata</em>) in Full Bloom”</span></li>
</ul>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The second article (third item) listed on this month’s cover is entitled “Adventures Among the “Lost Tribes of Islam” in Eastern Darfur” and was written by Major Edward Keith-Roach. It has the internal subtitle “A Personal Narrative of Exploring, Mapping, and Setting Up a Government in the Anglo-Egyptian Sudan Borderland.” With the long article title, the individual page headings are simply “Adventures Among the “Lost Tribes of Islam”.” The article also has an italicized editorial before the main article briefly describing the mid-Africa region and the author. The article contains thirty-two black-and-white photographs, of which four are full-page in size. It also contains a sketch map of Africa on page 46 which is reference by not only the second article but the third and fourth as well. Note: this was one of the few sketch maps that the late Philip Riviere missed in his exhaustive effort to download photos of maps and covers.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">When Lord Kitchner, in 1899, had marched his victorious army into Khartoum, the reconquest of the Anglo-Egyptian Sudan was practically completed, and the work of reconstruction and administration was quickly begun. British officials were placed in charge of each province except for Darfur, the most western province, of about 170,000 square miles, which was left entirely under the jurisdiction of its own Sultan, Ali Dinar. His only obligation was to pay a small tribute yearly to the Governor-General in Khartoum. That was the reason why the author was in Darfur from 1916 to 1920. When Turkey entered the World War, she called upon all devout Moslems to join her in “the holy struggle against the infidels and dogs of Christians.” The Senussi tribe, on the western boundaries of Egypt, accepted the call and themselves attacked Egypt, necessitating the stationing of a fair number of Allied troops in the oases along the frontier. The tribe succeeded in sending envoys to Sultan Ali Dinar and persuaded him to join them in the “fight for freedom.” Ali Dinar sent a flag and three spearheads to the nearest British official as a polite warning of his intentions. He then mobilized his slave army and sent skirmishing parties to molest the inhabitants of Kordofan. Those raids became so frequent and menacing that it was decided to occupy the territory, and in 1916 a small expeditionary force, consisting of Egyptian troops, led by British officers, and accompanied by a handful of British machine gunners, marched 400 miles along an almost waterless track. After two small battles, the country was under the British flag. The biggest engagement occurred just outside El Fasher, the capital of Darfur, in May 1916, and the Sultan, who fled from the city as soon as the news of the reverse reached him, was killed in action in the hills six months afterward. The author missed the action, being stationed in Port Sudan, on the Red Sea. He was not ordered to Darfur until some months later to take over the administration of the eastern district.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">From Port Said, the author railed to Khartoum, and after two days spent in getting provisions, he took the train to El Obeid, 350 miles southwest, where camels were purchased to carry him and his baggage 300 miles to his new home. Um Kedada was the name of his headquarters, and after three weeks’ trekking, he was told early one morning that they were approaching the place. On arriving, he found a few native soldiers and a well. The journey was long and tiring. They marched all night except for a couple of hours around midnight to rest the camels. They tried to find shade to sleep during the day while the camels grazed. The heat at midday varied between 110- and 120-degrees Fahrenheit in the shade, but was much more intense in the sun. Marching at night had a fascination all its own. The author’s camel, being lightly laden and speedier, outstripped the rest, and he was alone in the beauty of the African night. Occasionally, he passed native caravans and the courtesies of the road were exchanged. Um Kedada, which was a military base for the army on the march up to El Fasher earlier in the year, stood on high ground with a fair outlook. Its chief claim to fame was a most excellent water supply – an invaluable asset. It was difficult adequately to picture what a well meant until one has lived near the Sahara. In his 300 miles, the author passed only two places where there were any, and on his arrival at Um Kedada, he had, for six days, been subsisting on only the water carried on his camels, and the camels had been without all that time. Greetings were made to all assembled at the well, after the animals were watered and the men rested, the author looked for a place to build a temporary house. They began building it at the roof and built downward. Native huts, or “tukls,” were made from dried millet stalks and were shaped like straw beehives, but were finished at the top with little tufts. They looked for all the world like wooden whip tops upside down.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Eight long branches were placed with ends on the ground, tied together at the center, and laced round with smaller branches until the structure looked like an army bell tent. That was the roof, which was then thatched with millet straw from the bottom upward and tied together tightly at the top into the little tuft. That superstructure was then raised up on poles set in a circle with a V at the top, standing four feet off the ground. The sides were then thatched and the palace was ready for occupancy. A cavalcade of horse, infantry, and camel men, led by two British officers, filed slowly through Um Kedada on its long journey from El Fasher to Khartoum. As the eye traveled from end to end of the long brown line, it was arrested by a wonderful blaze of color in the center of the column. There were some twenty men mounted on camels, and their gorgeous dresses scintillated in the rays of the western sun. Here a purple cloak, there a strawberry-colored one, a bright yellow one farther back, but at the head of all was an imposing figure in green and gold with a colored turban. They were the legitimate sons of the late Sultan Ali Dinar, and the figure at the head was Zakariah, the eldest son, who but for his father’s misrule might have been sultan after him. The army’s work in Eastern Darfur being completed, the small detachment of Sudanese soldiers left for other fields. Martial law had ceased; civil administration reigned in its stead. Their temporary dwelling finished, the work of creating a town started in earnest. That was planned in lots of 197 by 197 feet, with roads running north to south and east to west, of 65 feet and 32 feet, alternately. On each of those plots, nine tukls were allowed to be built, and a man was appointed head of the plot to see that it was kept in sanitary condition. Natives gradually collected from the surrounding hamlets to be near the well, and a town of 500 to 600 people soon sprang up, including a few pilgrims from Nigeria.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Two native builders came up from Kordofan Province and, they opened a new industry – brick-making. Meanwhile, foundations were dug for the offices, stores, a prison, and official houses. A wanderer arrived with a knowledge of carpentry, and he produced presentable doors and windows from forest wood and old packing crates. Timber for the roof had to be brought many miles on camel-back, as nothing long grew in the vicinity. Old rifle barrels were used as bars for the prison windows and proved most serviceable. With the buildings half up, a heavy tropical rainstorm, entirely out of season, did much damage, but eventually all was successfully accomplished. One morning four camels arrived with the office fittings sent from Khartoum. The first case produced four bentwood, cane-seated chairs, but they were in pieces. A search though the case revealed eight nuts and bolts and sixteen screws, but no spanners or screwdrivers. The bolts were driven home and the nuts tightened by hand, but the screws defied all attempts with pocketknife, coin, and piece of tin, when suddenly a helper had a bright idea and, rushing off to his donkey, cut off a charm hanging around its neck and produced the business end of a screwdriver, rusty but usable. A handle was soon made and the tool was so good that the last chair was assembled in eleven minutes. The official in charge of Easten Darfur had to be administrator, magistrate, collector of revenue, estimator of crops for tithes, commandant of police, veterinary surgeon, doctor, and all the other things that went to make up a well-ordered community. Consequently, many months were spent in setting up the system of organization. Sheiks were appointed in charge of villages, and <em>Omdas</em> placed in authority over groups of villages and given limited powers, sufficient to enforce their orders. Police had to be trained. Roads had to be cut through scrub or tracks widened. All that entailed many weeks’ touring by camel from place to place.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Villages were few and far between, there being only about 300 in the whole district, containing about 30 to 200 people each. The country was mostly bushy scrub and covered with a grass called <em>haskaneet</em>, the seeds of which had innumerable little spikes that got into everything – food, clothes, hair, and skin – setting up nasty irritations. The natives all carried homemade tweezers to extract the spikes from their legs. That grass sprang up during the rains, and a month afterward was burned brown, when the seed pods started flying about. The sand on the tracks was very heavy and frequently, if walking, one sank in over the ankles. Millet was the only species of grain that would grow in the district, owing to the poorness of the sand as soil. The author usually traveled fifteen days a month, but one long tour took him over two months. At harvest time he frequently rode enormous distances on his camel to pay surprise visits to estimators who were assessing the crops for revenue purposes. He took a medicine chest with him and was called upon to prescribe for ever conceivable ailment. His fame as a medicine man grew far and wide. Serious crime was extremely uncommon, and the people had such a sense of justice that he could send a verbal order a hundred miles away, and find it obeyed when he later visited. Practically the whole district was unmapped, so when he traveled by day a man pushed a cyclometer in front while the author took bearings with a prismatic compass, checking distance and direction, and plotting it on map paper. Although the inhabitants called themselves Arabs and spoke that language, they were negroids [sic]. They were Mohammedans, but few could read or write, they were not strict followers of the Prophet, except in that they respect Ramadan, the month of fasting.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The children attracted attention. The babies were carried on the mothers’ backs, tied by a piece of her raiment, with its arms inside. Its hands being tied in, its poor little eyes often were covered with flies. When the sun and flies became too much, it whimpered and the mother threw the other end of her raiment over its head and waggled it to sleep. Both boys and girls had their tribal marks cut on their cheeks at an early age, salt being rubbed in to keep the slits open. Little girls wore a short skirt of strings of leather hanging from a belt, which swung picturesquely as they walked. If there was enough cotton, the boys had sack-like shirts with holes for their arms, otherwise, they went as God made them. It was laid down in the Koran that all devout Muslims must make the sacred pilgrimage to Mecca once in their lifetime. The wealthy Muslims of West Africa took ships from those ports and went by sea to Jidda; but that route was closed to the poorer class who, therefore, had to travel overland. Selling all they had to buy cattle, the Hausa tribesmen of Nigeria set out, the children and old women being mounted on the patient beasts, upon which also were loaded cooking pots and other items. The braves brandished their spears. The journey to Mecca took about two years. Much of the ground that was covered was practically waterless, and there were great hardships endured. The pilgrims followed the main caravan routes across Nigeria, on through French Equatorial Africa, approaching Darfur Province through Abeshr. In the time of the Sultan, the pilgrims paid a heavy toll to him – their fairest daughters were forcibly taken for his harem, and their cattle impounded. The reoccupation of Darfur was of immense benefit to the pilgrims, as they were protected by the French, and then British, on their entire journey. Even so, there were many difficulties to overcome. At larger centers they stayed, sometimes for months, working to earn enough money to continue their pilgrimage.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">For some time, the town’s market place consisted of a few hurdles, balanced on twisting poles, and the only vendors where a few women who did a trade in native beer. Occasionally, some daring soul introduced eggs and watermelons. Then, a merchant prince appeared. He was about ten years old, the son of the sergeant major of police, and could read and write. At first, red pepper constituted his stock and trade. Soon after, matches made their appearance. Then perfumes of crushed sandalwood and two other sorts of wooden twigs. A few days later that amazing boy introduced red nail polish. Finally, a blanket of his father gave shade during the day, and strings of beads were hung in front of the shop. The whole stock was displayed on a grass mat adorned in each corner by a sugar-loaf wrapped in blue paper. An Arab merchant from Khartoum arrived, and he traded European cotton cloth for cattle and gum. The principal occupation of a native man of Darfur was killing time. An early riser, he was up to send his women off to fetch water at the well. He owned a fair number of animals. He accompanied the women and assisted them. He then saw the animals driven out to pasture by a small boy, who brought them back at night. That finished, his day’s work was done. His wife returned and, at once, busied herself preparing grain for the thick fermented beer, like pea soup, which was the principal means of sustenance. She thus occupied practically her entire day. Meanwhile, her lord and master slept until sunset, recuperating his strength. As soon as the first rains came, the man went with his wife, or wives, and escorted each to her own patch, because each had her own seed supply, just as each had a separate house. Using a branch, sometimes with a small iron hoe at the end, he ambled at a jog down the cultivated plot. Each time the left foot came down, he poked a hole in the sand. His wife, following, dropped a few millet seeds wrapped in dried watermelon rind, into each hole.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">After three weeks of good rain and ample sunshine, the grain came up, and with it the haskaneet; so, he took his only other tool, a moon-shaped hoe, and hoes the weeds. After a few more days, the crop rose to an appreciable height. Then the one serious worry, fear of locusts, began. Those pests sometimes came in myriads, eating every green thing before them. When they were seen approaching, man, woman, and child hastened to the field and raised a din to try to prevent them from settling. The crop suffered if they landed. Sometimes it took an hour or two for a flight to cross the fields. At the end of four months, if the crop survived, the millet was ripe, grown to a height of six feet. The head, some ten inches long, was snipped off and taken to a hard piece of ground, where the grain was beaten out by hand. The grain was then winnowed by being thrown in the air, after which it was stored in a small pit dug in the ground, to be removed as required. The long stalks of the millet were used for making tukls, and the remaining, left standing in the fields, was burned later. A few industrious natives had a source of wealth in gum trees, and made considerable money selling gum arabic. The bushy evergreen grew wild over nearly the whole of Eastern Darfur. Tapping of the gum tree started at the end of October and continued for about five months. Using a small homemade ax, a cut was made in the bark and a foot-long tear was made upward. The trees were left for about 15 days, at which time the gum was collected that had oozed out at the bottom of the barked portion. Other parts of the trunk were then dealt with until the tree had exhausted itself. The collected gum was taken to the village and buried in the ground until it could be taken to market, sometimes a hundred miles away. The cotton crop was very poor; the pod was mostly seed, with the minimum of cotton. It was ginned and spun, with little attempt to obtain an even thickness of the yarn. An experienced man could weave a yard-wide sheet of twenty feet in two days.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Throughout Eastern Darfur there were few wells and no permanent water supply; therefore, the natives relied entirely on the rains of July, August, and September. On average, 15 to 20 inches were expected during that period. The problem of storage for the remaining nine months was solved in an interesting manner. Dotted here and there, sometimes in tens, fifties, or even hundreds, there were trees formed of a soft, spongy wood with a natural hollow heart. They grew fairly straight, sometimes 20 or 25 feet high, before branching off into large boughs. Many of those trees were of great girth. The natural hollow was scooped out and enlarged. Their storage capacity was considerable. Into those living reservoirs the people, using primitive leather buckets, poured the rain water collected from hollows among the roots. The contents of the tree varied between 500 and 1,000 gallons. In hot weather, the water got unpleasantly warm, but remained sweet. Toward the end of the dry season, just before the rains broke, it was naturally very scarce, and travelers were charge up to a dollar for three gallons. In areas where there were no tebeldi trees and reservoirs were unobtainable, the resources of Nature were not exhausted. <em>Batikhs</em>, or watermelons, do not grow wild, but were sown in large areas of cleared ground. When the fruits were ripe, they were stored away in low-thatched shanties. Toward sunset the donkey was driven down to the field, and enough melons brought back for the next day’s use. A woman brought an earthen vessel with perforated bottom and squatted beside it. Taking a melon, she broke it with her fist, scooped out the insides, and squeezed the juice out of the fiber. The rind was then broken and pounded in a vessel made from a tree trunk. All possible water war removed. The residue became feed for donkeys, goats, and fowl. Once, when the author was touring to complete his map, he lived six weeks, using those melons as his sole source of water.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">In a country where everything was of value, it was expected that some use would be found for the seeds of the watermelon. In some countries, they were dried and strung together and formed the principal item of dress of the native. In Darfur, they were used to combat skin disease, replacing coal tar and Sulphur. A thick, black, soupy mixture was extracted from them. It was mixed with wood ash. An animal suffering from skin disease was rubbed over with the mixture. One morning, the author was requested to go see a who wanted to die. He picked up his thermometer and medicines and set off for the tukl. Upon arriving, he found a crowd gathered. The man was <em>in extremis</em>, and there was little hope. He had a fever that came on quickly. Within a minute or two od the author’s arrival, the man was nearing his end. As soon as the crowd saw that the man was near death, they place, and held him, on his right side. His wife, sobbing, held his mouth shut. The author turned away in horror, and, as he passed from the hut, all was over. He died at 10:00 a. m. and the author was invited to his funeral, which took place at 4 p. m. He rode out to join the funeral procession. On arrival at the gravesite, the importance of the man’s dying on his right side was once evident. A trench had been dug 3 feet wide and 2 feet deep. In the middle, a second narrow trench, 1 foot wide and a foot and a half deep was dug. The body was place in it on his right side with his head facing Mecca. Short pieces of wood were placed across the trench, and wood splinters filled the gaps. Water, brought in goatskins, was mixed with sand, and the mud plastered over the boards. A fence of thorny bushes was placed around the grave, and then the mourners silently went their several ways. There was much sameness about visits of ceremony. The headman of the village received the author with great ceremony outside his tukl, conducted him in, and put him to sit on his bed, the only place to sit. A watermelon was produced, cut, and eaten by the author with the headman watching at his feet.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The author server as judge in the province. In one case, the bull of Ahmed had had a fight with the bull of Mohammed, and had knocked it down a well, breaking its neck. Mohammed drew it to the surface and sold it to a butcher for $5. Mohammed demanded the difference in value between a live and a dead bull. Since it was 3 p. m., and the author had been at it since 8 a. m., he told them he pass judgement in the morning. Reading the Bible that night, he found the solution in Exodus. The next morning, bible in hand, he went to court. Moslems held the old prophets in great reverence. The author explained that a similar case had occurred about 3,400 years prior, and Moses had given a law which he proposed to follow. He then read the verse: “And if one man’s ox hurt’s another’s, that he die; then they shall sell the living ox, and divide the money of it; and the dead ox also they shall divide.” It was decided that the living ox was valued at $25, and Mohammed had sold his dead ox for $5, so the author ordered Ahmed to pay Mohammed $10 and the matter was settled. That judgement gave great satisfaction to all parties and they went away happy to their village. Months afterward, the author was out on tour, and as he neared the village of those litigants at nightfall, he was met by Ahmed. This time, his bull was the aggressor, and had quarrels with other animal that morning. The author used the Exodus again: “Or if it be known that the ox hath used to push in times past, and his owner hath not kept him in: he shall surely pay ox for ox; and the dead shall be his own.” Since the pushing ox was dead, the author ordered that no compensation be paid by the owner of the living ox to Ahmed. His decision was greeted with shouts of applause. Ahmed even joined in, and the people once more were convinced of the wisdom of their revered Prophet.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The Furowi may have had many failings, but lack of courage could not be counted among them. One morning an old man walked into the author’s office and said that a lion and lioness were molesting his village, about 15 miles away. He asked the author to come and destroy the beasts. The author promised to come the next day, but was delayed. The day after, the man returned with the head of the lioness dangling from a piece of rope. He told a story which the author corroborated when he went to the village to dress the wounds of the chief actors. Three boys, about 15 or 16, went out to their field, each carrying a throwing spear. They saw the lion and lioness, and the first boy threw his spear and missed. The lion bounded away as the second boy threw and missed. The third boy’s spear hit the lioness who turned and leapt on the boy. One of the boys took off the long garment he was wearing, bound it around his right arm, and grasped the animal’s left ear with his left hand. He drove his right arm down her throat. As her teeth closed on his arm, the third boy picked up a hatchet and rained blows on her head until she was dead. The boys soon recovered from their wounds, and for weeks afterward all the girls of the village wore little pieces of lion meat in their hair as a tribute to the prowess of the young men. When this article was written, the skin of the lioness adorned the author’s drawing-room on the Mount of Olives, Jerusalem.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The third article in this month’s issue is entitled “Timbuktu, in the Sands of the Sahara” and was written by Captain Cecil D. Priest. It contains sixteen black-and-white photographs, none of which are full-page in size. Two of these photos, each a half-page in size serves as the frontispiece to this article. The article references the map in the first article as well as text from that article.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Many people had asked the author if Timbuktu was an island; others had said they thought it a myth. The truth was that Timbuktu was a famous old city in French West Africa. The town was situated about nine miles from the most northerly point of the river Niger. In the rainy season it was reached by a canal from Kabara, the so-called port; in the dry season a canoe could go only as far as Koryiamo. From there, a pony carried the traveler to that mysterious city. The author would never forget the morning he arrived. Here was his Mecca at last, haunted by dreams of the curious and imaginative the world over. Eagerly, he scanned the horizon for a glimpse of what he had longed to see since his earliest childhood. Nor was he disappointed. He could see what appeared to be huge buildings in the far distance, enshrouded in haze. It was only after passing through a thick wood of thorn trees and scrub that he realized how close the town was. It was the Governor’s Palace that had attracted the most attention; but other well-built offices and houses of solid stone added to the view. His purpose in coming to Timbuktu was not to study modern desert architecture, but to see the natives in the same type of houses which had been in use for a thousand years. Early the first morning he went up to the flat roof of the Governor’s Palace to see the panorama. The sun was not yet too high to make things uncomfortable. The first thing to catch his eye was a mosque, a mud dome, some 50 feet high, at the far corner of the city. From his vantage point, he could see a wonderful moving picture of Arabs, Moors, Tuaregs wandering along the narrow streets with camels and donkeys. From the market place rose the shrill voices of women and boys calling out their wares. It was getting warm, and at the invitation of a French officer, the author went to his house near the North Fort. It was a charming place, built of mud in true Arabic style. In the evening came a visit to the market and the famous old mosque. He visited the old slave market and the settlement of the freed slaves.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Deep sand laid everywhere and roads or paths did not exist. At 7 o’clock he dined on the roof of a house in the South Fort. It was a still African night, with a bright moon. He heard the chanting of Arab dancers in the distance. The next day was very different in appearance. A brisk wind had sprung up during the night. It was impossible to see half a mile from his veranda. Quantities of sand blew into the house. The author visited the chief Marabout, or priest. The Marabout was sitting on a mat outside his house. He was a kindly old man of about 60, clothed in a long, flowing white gown and a turban. He took the author into his hall, a sort of porch, and offered him some tea. The author declined the tea, but smoked a cigarette, which the host’s boy brought. When the author told him that he had often read about Timbuktu, he was pleased at the idea of his town being known throughout the world. He told of how much larger Timbuktu was when he was a child, and how much larger still when his father was young. In 1924, Timbuktu had scarcely more than 8,000 inhabitants, and many of those were nomads who passed through with cattle or engaged in the great salt trade from Central Sahara. The author said his goodbyes when the conversation flagged. The market place was now becoming congested and the strange-smelling atmosphere was annoying. Meat covered with flies, and all sorts of food were being sold. The noon sun was blazing hot, but a sun-umbrella afforded some relief. The vendors sat on mats in little grass shanties. All sorts of trades were represented. There was a big trade in dried fish caught in the Niger. Since the natives loved fish, it was no surprise that the “sun-dried-fish” merchant soon sold out. The author bought some pretty, blue amulets and necklaces as curios. In the market place there were three European commercial houses where the ordinary necessities of life could be bought for an exorbitant price.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">After leaving the market place, the author came to a large hollow in the ground that was for many years the home of an old, tamed hippopotamus. The streets were full of people, either going to or returning from the market, which was a sort of African news exchange. The Tuareg women and girls did most of the work of the household as servants to the wealthy Arabs and Moors. The girls were most attractive in appearance, but very dirty. The never washed, as their home was in the heart of the desert, where water was limited to drinking. The Tuareg was of a light coffee hue, while Arabs were often far lighter in color than a sunburned European. Beggars were to be found in all African towns, but the author never saw a more pitiable collection than those of Timbuktu. Some were blind, some were crippled, others old and feeble; but all chanted some song or prayer beseeching Allah and the passerby to give them alms. As a rule, the native was kind to beggars, but cruel to his animals; donkeys and camels received rough treatment. Little remained of the house of Barth, the great African explorer of last century. How many changes had been wrought in Timbuktu during the 30 years since Marshall Joffre made his brilliant march to that city to the relief of the ambushed Bonnier column? During the rains, Timbuktu had a large paddle-boat of some 200 tons; six tall masts for the wireless station could be seen from the city housetops; and the hum of airplane engines coming up from Dakar had been heard. The telephone and telegraph were likewise in use, the later being employed by the merchants. Before the advent of the French, money was little known, barter and exchange serving for all transactions. In 1924, Cowrie shells were even used in the market, for silver was scarce and paper money was reluctantly accepted. The European population of Timbuktu numbered about twenty, chiefly government officials, with three or four merchants. A European baby was born in Timbuktu in 1920 – the first on in the history of that old town.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Social life was essential in a desert place like that, and the French did all they could to make themselves happy and comfortable. There was a good hospital and a fine, hard tennis court. Riding and shooting, as well as tennis, were the only forms of exercise. The wind, which made things so uncomfortable in the morning of the author’s first day, became much worse toward sunset, developing finally into a veritable sandstorm. The city was enveloped in sand. Natives hurried to and fro; animals turned their tails to the wind; and everyone waited for rain. After an hour of extreme discomfort, the rain came, accompanied by vivid flashes of lightning and terrific crashes of thunder. Then, as if by magic, the sand ceased to blow. It greedily absorbed the moisture, and in 20 minutes they were outdoors, inhaling the fragrances of the little garden in front of the Governor’s Palace. The garden was most astonishing. There in the desert was a miniature Kew Gardens, beautifully designed and laid out, and full of the most wonderful exotic plants, trees, and shrubs. All the earth was carried up from the Niger banks on donkeys. Every day at sunset, the plants were watered by prisoners. A lamp on the top of the Palais de Justice was lit every evening at sunset by the police. On a clear night it could be seen for miles and miles out on the desert, it served as a guide to men late in returning, or who were lost at night outside the city. Th author saw a cigarette box cut out of a block of salt. The Arabs sold the boxes for a mere song, usually bringing them to the city when the great salt caravan arrived annually from the heart of the desert, some 300 miles north of Timbuktu. The French Government protected the salt caravan by sending out 200 camel corps men with Europeans in charge. That strong escort defended the caravan from the attacks of the marauding Tuaregs and desert tribes.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">When the caravan entered Timbuktu, a great welcome was given the travelers, and the whole town was <em>en fete</em> for several days. The coming of the caravan was a marvelous sight – some 800 camels laden with salt and hundreds of others ridden by gorgeously robed chiefs, with bodyguards, either mounted or on foot. The caravan returned north with rice and grain, brought up by canoe from the large agricultural districts of Gundam, El-Waleji, and Gao. In many parts of Africa, after a rain the mosquito appeared. Not so in Timbuktu; there it was a rarity. Owing to the scarcity of mosquitoes, there was little or no malaria in Timbuktu. Several residents of the city told the author that they never found it necessary to take quinine. Natives suffered a good deal from pneumonia when the rains came and the weather was treacherous. For exercise one morning, the author borrowed a pony for a ride. They rode off to the south toward Kabara. It was a pretty ride, but heavy going in the deep sand. At that little village, the author was shown around the “harbor.” He was interested in the native canoes and dugouts which were being prepared for the time when the river would rise. That event made Kabara famous for six months in the year. Some of the canoes were 50 feet long. The oats were operated by four or five men with long bamboo poles. Sails on those crafts were dangerous and were seldom used. The fishing season was in full swing, owing to the low stage of the river. Nets were drying, and the air was heavy with the odor of fish. A detachment of the Senegalese regiment was stationed there. On their way back they passed many flocks of sheep and herds of goats which were being driven down to the river to drink. The author had lunch with the post physician in his delightfully cool house made of mud. In the rooms and halls were many trophies of the chase, the best being a white oryx head with large antlers. There was also a crocodile skin some 20 feet long, and a sun-bleached hippo skull outside his front door.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The natives took great pains with his “hold-all,” a kind of suitcase. It was very elaborate and took from three to six months to make. It had fringes of lace, and the opening was laced up like a boot. The nomad’s clothes, food, and household goods were all jumbled together inside. On the walls of the physician’s house were heavy iron spears, six feet long, with beaten brass and copper inlay. The mounted Tuareg bore one of those spears and a shield made of ox hide and nicely carved. More elaborate shields were made from oryx or giraffe hide. Those were most serviceable and would resist with ease a sword cut or arrow. Another article of local manufacture was a bit, a cruel device consisting of a sharp piece of iron projecting from a bar and designed to be placed under a horse’s tongue. With the bit and spurs, the native was able to make his horse do what he wanted. After lunch, the author tasted a new and most refreshing drink called citronelle, a kind of tea made from a grass which the French cultivated in their gardens. Other wonderful things were also grown along the banks of the Niger at those French posts. He saw melons, strawberries, pineapples, bananas, limes, egg-fruit, pomegranates, and vegetables of every kind. When the time came for the author’s departure, he rode one cool evening to Koryiamo by moonlight, with an escort of four mounted soldiers. Even in 1924, it was not safe for Europeans to wander about the desert alone, for the “Razuls,” or bandits, will still kill or capture if they got a chance.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">At the bottom of the last page of the third article (page 85) is a notice with the heading “Index for July-December, 1923, Volume Ready”. The one-line text of the notice states “Index for Volume XLIV (July-December, 1923) will be mailed to members upon request.”</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The fourth article in this month’s issue is entitled “The Conquest of the Sahara by the Automobile” and has no byline. This editorial contains nine black-and-white photographs, of which four are full-page in size. One of these full-page photos serves as the frontispiece to the article. As with the previous two article, this one references the sketch map of Africa appearing in the second article on page 46. It also references the text from the previous article.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The camel no longer held his own on Sahara sands. Five manmade, mechanical contraptions had defeated him on his own grounds, by reducing to a paltry 20 days the three months’ time it usually required for a 2,000-mile trip across the desert. The Citroen caterpillar tractor expedition across the Sahara from southern Algeria to Timbuktu and the Niger, in December 1922, and January 1923, added a page to the history of French exploration in Africa, but also gave impetus to the desire of the French to create a political and commercial liaison between the northern and western colonies of their vast empire. Since the political entry of the French into North Africa at Algiers, their control had been gradually extended farther into the desert by the establishment of posts in the principal oases. The central plateau region, however, had been difficult to manage, and the success of the Citroen expedition was regarded as an important step in opening that key region to the great desert and in the control of the important north-to-south caravan routes. A railroad would doubtlessly cross the Sahara in due time. Meanwhile, its quick and trusty advanced courier, the automobile, went before to discover more of the secrets of the mighty unexplored spaces of the mysterious desert. There was, to be sure, sand a-plenty in the northern stretch and toward Egypt to the east, but there was a vast region of varied surface and irregular relief, containing rocky plateaus, tracts of loose stone and pebbles, mountain ranges, gorges, and valleys, about which our knowledge was decidedly nebulous. In some sections, the desert lied 100 feet below sea-level; in others, it rose from 5,00 to 8,000 feet. Rolling, shifting sand dunes constituted only one-nineth or one-tenth of the Sahara’s entire area. South of Algeria, they gave way to a rugged, rocky region, which was displaced in its turn by vast plateaus of massive black rocks, boulders, and pebbles. Beyond, 900 miles from the coast, lied the lofty crags of the Hoggar Plateau, with peaks 8,000 feet or more in height.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12342938281?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12342938281?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-full"/></a></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The Citroen caterpillar tractors were especially designed to operate over that varied and difficult terrain. They had to conquer slipping, clogging sand, and sharp, piercing stones. The most interesting feature of their construction was in the rear, where wheels gave way to rollers. Those were covered with a continuous band of rubber and canvas, which made a tough and supple rail on which the car travelled. That increased the traction surface and eliminated the danger of the car’s sinking into the sand. Before the start from southern Algeria, two auxiliary parties were sent out, one from Tuggurt and one from Timbuktu, to establish oil and supply depots within some 625 miles from each point. Despite sand-drifts, boulders, gullies, waterless stretches, a sandstorm, broiling sun by day and icy temperatures at night, the expedition averaged 100 miles a day. Tuggurt, the sand-locked terminus of the South Algeria Railway, in southern Algeria, was the starting point for the adventure. The convoy covered the first 125 miles across the sands to Wargla without difficulty. From that famous date-growing region it followed the big, dried-up waterway of the Wadi Mia Valley, amid dunes, to Fort Hassi Inifel, some 250 miles farther south. That small station was lost in the sandy masses of the Great Eastern Erg (erg meaning sand hill), which stretched from Morocco on the west to Tripoli on the east. After Inifel, the aspect of the desert began to change from sandy plains, with stretches of dunes, to a desolate, gloomy country strewn with sharp rocks and cut y deep crevasses. That was the plateau of Tademait, characterized by the remarkable lack tint of its rocks. The next 280 miles, through the sinister Ain El Gettara Pass and across the vast plain of Tidikelt, were strenuous going. The ground was covered with boulders, difficult to clear, and a lookout had to be maintained against marauders at the same time. Tidikelt was a region of mirages.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">At In-Salah, the succeeding station, the convoy was met by the entire population, waving palm branches, and escorted by a camel corps and Arab horsemen firing salutes. That oasis was the last one in North Africa and a center for caravans from the French Sudan, the Hoggar, and the Air. After leaving In-Salah, the tractors continued over rocky ground, passing many carcasses of camels overcome by the sun and the desert. The Christmas camp was made in the blue mountains of Muydir, on the edge of the Hoggar country, the real center of the Sahara. Then the convoy entered the Hoggar through a mountain pass, and beyond it layed perhaps the most perilous part of the journey – the almost waterless, treacherous Tanesruft, a region of sandstorms, boulders, and rocky valleys. New Year’s was spent at a well on the borderland between North Africa and French West Africa. Then another stop at Kidal, a small post in the southern Adrar (mountain) of the Iforas, and on through the Saharan region of the Sudan itself to Burem and the Niger. There, for the first time in history, the true liaison between French colonies in northern and western Africa became a reality on January 4. The remaining stretch along the Niger west to Timbuktu [see preceding article] was easily made in 27 hours without a stop. As the convoy swung into the sand-blown streets of the ancient capital amid cheers of the natives, a new chapter in the history of scientific exploration was concluded and civilization approached a bit nearer to the heart of Africa’s most mysterious domain.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The fifth and final article in this month’s issue is entitled “Reelfoot – An Earthquake Lake in Tennesee” and was written by Wilbur A. Nelson. The internal title is the abbreviated “Reelfoot – An Earthquake Lake.” The article contains twenty black-and-white photographs described as “Illustrations from Official Photographs, U. S. Army Air Service, Taken by Captain A. W. Stevens and Lieutenant George W. Polk, Engineering Division.” Six of these photos are full-page in size, and one of those full-page photos serves as the frontispiece for this article.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Reelfoot, an earthquake lake of Tennessee, was born about the time that the first venturesome pioneers began to settle along the banks of the mighty Mississippi. Perhaps De Soto, in his wanderings along the Mississippi River, saw that country as a vast unbroken wilderness. He little dreamed that that placid wilderness would within three hundred years be torn and racked by Nature’s forces, and that during one of the greatest earthquakes of historical times lakes covering tens of thousands of acres would come into existence overnight. At the beginning of the 19<sup>th</sup> century, that region was called Indian Country. Legend said that a mighty chief ruled wisely, but was sad because his only son was born with a deformed foot. When he grew up, he walked differently than the others, so they called him Reelfoot. When the old chief died, Reelfoot became chief. He traveled south in search of a bride. He reached a village and beheld his dream princess. She was the only daughter of the Chief, and when Reelfoot told her father the reason of his visit, the old chief got angry and said his daughter would only marry within their tribe. That made Reelfoot sad, but he was determined to have her. He offered the chief pearls and skins. The old chief sent for the tribe’s medicine man, who called on the Great Spirit. The Great Spirit spoke to Reelfoot, saying that an Indian must not steal his wife from another tribe; and if he disobeyed, the Great Spirit would cause the earth to rock and the waters to swallow up Reelfoot’s village. Reelfoot was frightened, and returned home sad. It was summer when he reached his village. He tried to keep busy with the harvest, but could not get the princess out of his mind. Reelfoot decided to kidnapped the girl, but when he brought her back to his village, the Great Spirit stomped his feet in anger. The Father of Waters heard and rushed over Reelfoot’s country. Where the Great Spirit stomped, the Mississippi formed a beautiful lake, in the bottom of which laid Reelfoot, his bride, and his people. Such was the legend of Reelfoot Lake.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12342939256?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12342939256?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-full"/></a></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">An account of the earthquake was given by one of the pioneers, Eliza Bryan, living in New Madrid. She wrote to her pastor describing the events. The earthquake occurred at 2 a. m. on December 16, 1811 sounding like distant thunder. The air was full of sulphureous vapors; the inhabitants screamed, and trees fell. The Mississippi flowed backwards for several minutes. Aftershocks continued for weeks. Then on February 7<sup>th</sup>, around 4:00 a. m., another large quake occurred. The Mississippi receded from its banks and gathered up like a mountain. Then the banks overflowed as the waters rose 15 to 20 feet. The river fell immediately, as violently as it had risen. It took with it whole groves of cottonwood trees, which hedged its borders. The ground was covered with sand from fissures which had opened in great numbers all over the country. The site of the town settled down at least 15 feet, but a half a mile down steam, there was no change to the banks of the river. Back from the river, lakes were nearly dried up; their beds elevated several feet above their former banks. A lake was formed on the opposite side of the river that Mrs. Bryan said was 100 miles long and 6 miles wide. That size was an exaggeration. The lake was 14 miles long and 4½ miles wide. Reelfoot was not the only lake formed, for large areas of eastern Arkansas and northwestern Louisiana were partly submerged and several small lakes formed. The earthquake became known as the New Madrid earthquake. The Spanish town from which it was named was party demolished during the event. Although the region affected was a wilderness, it had lured many travelers, including Audubon. In the middle of Tennessee lived Andrew Jackson and Davy Crockett lived nearby. Most of those noted men left accounts of what happened. General Rogers, of Revolutionary fame, lived at Rock Island, on the Caney Fork River, at the foot of the Cumberland Mountains. He saw great blocks of sandstone crash down 1,000 feet down the mountainside.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">A great area throughout America was affected by that earthquake. From Canada to Missouri and Arkansas, Indians reported the quake, as did settlers to the southwest. Th quake was felt in New Orleans, Detroit, Washington, and even Boston, 1,100 miles away. In the Reelfoot region there were no hard rocks; all the country was covered by rich loams and clays, and under that surface was layer upon layer of loose sand and clay, down to a depth of 2,000 feet. The earth waves came up through those layers and, where breaks occurred on the surface, veritable sand geysers poured streams of quicksand. Great forest trees moved; their trunks fell prostrate or reclined at grotesque angles to the ground. The rhythmic motion of the earth was well shown by the parallel lines of cypress trees growing on the low crests of the many rolls in the Reelfoot Lake region. An airplane view brought to life again the roll of the earth as it occurred more than a century prior. New Madris was near the center of that earth movement, and it fared badly. Sand geysers covered the ground up to 100 feet deep; and the river banks caved in and most of the old town was swallowed by the Mississippi. A riverboat captain described the events. He had cut cable and headed for the middle of the river. A large fall, six feet deep formed perpendicular across the river. The whirls and rippling of that rapid that he was sure of the boat’s destruction; the ripples in the river were 30 feet high. He and his men constantly employed in pumping and bailing, and got safely through. On his arrival at New Madrid, he found it had sunk 12 feet and entirely deserted. A large barge, loaded with 500 barrels of flour, was split end to end and turned upside down at the bank. Of the 30 loaded boats, only that and one other escaped destruction. They were thrown far ashore, and several boatmen lost their lives.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12342938898?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12342938898?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-full"/></a></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Just to the south, the town of Caruthersville was entirely destroyed. The inhabitants were fortunate in that they found safety in the hills and forests. It was a settlement of 100 families located in a wide and very deep bottom. After the quake, there were many fissures and the ground was buried in three feet of sand. The surface was red with iron oxide, which was mixed with the sand. Orchards and houses laid abandoned, while New Madrid was slowly being rebuilt. During the past 100 years [from 1924], the Mississippi River had continued to ravage the areas along its course during flood seasons. The town of Tiptonville came in the path of its mighty currents in 1878. Day after day, the river tore away its bluff banks, eating gradually up to the town; and then one by one, the houses were moved to the far edge of the community. By 1880, much of the town had been move, and the waters began ti shift away from the town, leaving it far from the water. While the Mississippi writhed back and forth across its mighty plain, the newly born Reelfoot Lake grew more beautiful, and Nature began to heal scars on the landscape. Its clear, brownish water became home of many fish and its surface was dotted with lily pads. Along its borders, dense growths of grasses soon appeared. To that haven, teeming with fish, came ducks, geese, cormorants, coots, and white herons. Rails, gallinules, bitterns, and teals nested among the saw grass and lily pads. As wild fowl and game flocked in, so did the French trappers, and the American hunters and pioneers. There one still [in 1924] found minks, weasels, and otters along with opossums and raccoons. As the country was gradually developed, numbers of sportsmen settled along the lake. Located along the most-used highway of migratory birds, Reelfoot Lake was visited in the spring and in the autumn by large numbers of waterfowl. Besides the many birds and beasts, the flora was of interest. The pecan tree was there, in all its productiveness. There too was found the bald cypress. Where the land was cleared, cotton was the staple crop.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Many southern birds marked Reelfoot Lake as their northernmost point of distribution, or nearly so. In late summer, large flocks of Wood Ibis visited the lake after their breeding season was over in Louisiana. While the migrations marked the high point of bird life on the lake, its summer residents were numerous. There were at least 250 species of birds there during the course of a year. Our national bird, the Bald Eagle, still held its own there [in 1925]. They live on rabbits, foxes, squirrels, and fish, the latter frequently secured by robbing Osprey in midair. They built their huge nests on the tops of the largest bald cypress, at a height of 150 feet or more above the ground. Two large colonies of Herons and Cormorants had been visited by Mr. A. F. Ganier, of Nashville, who had made a study of the animal life of the lake. Each colony was found to contain about 400 nests. About a third of the nests were those of Cormorants. The nests were placed on the tops of the cypress trees at an average height of 110 feet above the water. Several nests of each bird were frequently placed in the same tree. By the last week of April, the nests of the Herons were occupied by hungry young, while the Cormorants were just settling down to incubate their four or five eggs. Within the last few years [before 1924], a colony of American Egrets, which nested at the upper end of the lake, were “shot out” by plumers, and it was not known if any survived. A small colony of Little Blue Herons existed at the south end of the lake. The ever-present Green Heron completed the roll call for that family. Ducks included the Hooded Merganser and the Wood Duck. Reelfoot was not suited for the breeding of ducks, other than the tree-nesting variety, because there was little or no shallow marsh. The Least Bittern was a summer resident in the saw grass, and the Coot bred there occasionally. One of the most characteristic birds of the lake was the Golden Swamp Warbler, which nested abundantly all about the lake.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12342939496?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12342939496?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-full"/></a></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The hunter’s season at Reelfoot began October 15. The first big rain was followed by a cold snap and an avalanche of ducks and geese. The Mallards were always the most numerous, but there were about 20 varieties of ducks. When ducks failed, the hunter turned to the Coot, which at times were numerous. Many years prior, Swans were among the most abundant of the migrating waterfowl. The Canada Goose was a regular winter visitor. During the fall and early spring, immense flocks of Cormorants gathered on the lake and consumed considerable numbers of small fish. The smaller mammals were as much at home in that primitive habitat as were the birds. I the early settler days, the Elk was abundant in the surrounding country, but had bee extinct since roughly 1850. During recent years [of 1925], the Black Bear had followed the Elk and the Virginia Deer had been almost wiped out. Some few Beaver and Otter were to be found in the swamp areas, while the Raccoon, Opossum, Mink, Muskrat, Gray and Flying Squirrels were common. The king of the lake fish was the Alligator Gar, growing to a length of eight feet. There were also Spoonbill Catfish, Crappie, and Bass. Snakes were much evident in summer. The Commonest of the swimming snakes was the Water Moccasin. The most primitive of the lake’s aquatic monsters was the Alligator Terrapin, or Loggerhead, a denizen of the dismal swamps. The reptiles, batrachians, and insect forms had been studied only briefly, and there lied an opportunity for naturalists. When the State of Tennessee realized the value of Reelfoot Lake, she made it a fish and game preserve. The trappers and settlers resisted the State, and the night riders’ war of 1908 began. It culminated in October of that year, on the banks of the lake, in an attack on two lawyers representing the landowners. One was hung while the other, who was 70, swam to safety under a hail of bullets. But once more, the Reelfoot region was peaceful. There, in the heart of the U. S. was one of the few remaining primitive spots in the country.</span></p>
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<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12342940254?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12342940254?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-full"/></a></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I would like to point out that a plaque commemorating this issue is on display in the Big Room of Carlsbad Cavern.</span></p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12342940493?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12342940493?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-full"/></a></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I visited the cave with my wife and two oldest grandsons on August 29, 2017. Here are a couple of views from the Big Room.</span></p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12342940673?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12342940673?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-full"/></a></p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12342940887?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12342940887?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-full"/></a></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Tom Wilson</span></p> Nat Geo archivestag:ngscollectors.ning.com,2023-12-13:1029239:Topic:2969792023-12-13T22:47:46.789ZRussell. Beldinghttps://ngscollectors.ning.com/profile/RussellBelding
<p>Not a collecting topic, but just a quick question. Is anyone having trouble getting into the NG Archives? For the past three weeks, I have been frozen out of it 90% of the time. My browser is working fine for all other websites. I complained to NG, and got a reply with suggestions, none of which worked. Responded that it was still a problem, but have gotten no answer for over a week. Just wondering if it's a widespread issue, or if I'm just extra special.</p>
<p>Not a collecting topic, but just a quick question. Is anyone having trouble getting into the NG Archives? For the past three weeks, I have been frozen out of it 90% of the time. My browser is working fine for all other websites. I complained to NG, and got a reply with suggestions, none of which worked. Responded that it was still a problem, but have gotten no answer for over a week. Just wondering if it's a widespread issue, or if I'm just extra special.</p> 100 Years Ago: December 1923tag:ngscollectors.ning.com,2023-11-27:1029239:Topic:2960402023-11-27T21:35:01.407ZGeorge Thomas Wilsonhttps://ngscollectors.ning.com/profile/GeorgeThomasWilson
<p><span style="font-size: 24pt;"><strong>100 Years Ago: December 1923</strong></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><em><strong>This is the 107<sup>th</sup> entry in my series of short reviews of National Geographic Magazines that have reached their one-hundredth anniversary of publication.</strong></em></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> …</span></p>
<p></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 24pt;"><strong>100 Years Ago: December 1923</strong></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><em><strong>This is the 107<sup>th</sup> entry in my series of short reviews of National Geographic Magazines that have reached their one-hundredth anniversary of publication.</strong></em></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12304359491?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12304359491?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-full"/></a></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The first article in this month’s issue is entitled “Fish and Fisheries of Our North Atlantic Seaboard” and was written by John Oliver La Gorce, author of “A Battle-Ground of Nature,” “Pennsylvania, the Industrial Titan of America,” “Devil-Fishing in the Gulf Stream,” “Treasure-House of the Gulf Strem.” “The Fight at the Timber-Line,” etc., in the <em>National Geographic Magazine</em>. The article contains thirty-five black-and-white photographs, of which fifteen are full-page in size.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The world annually levied a tribute upon the seven seas of half a billion dollars’ worth of fish, of which Europe collected half, the U. S. nearly a third, and the remainder of mankind the other sixth. In terms of weight, the portion collected by the U. S. amounted to 2,600,000,000 pounds, including shellfish. Three-fourths of that annual harvest reached the markets in fresh condition; the remainder went to the consumer as canned, salted, and smoked fish. The North Atlantic fisheries of the American seaboard reached from the Newfoundland Banks to the Delaware River, and represented the major sea fisheries of the Atlantic coast, producing some seven hundred million pounds of seafood annually. In those waters there were upward of fifty different kinds of fish and shellfish called for by fish-eating citizens. Eighteen kinds had more than two million pounds each to their credit in the national larder. The first species the author examined were the Flatfish – Flounders and Halibuts – with their changing form and migrating eyes. The left eye of species inhabiting cold water migrated to the right side of their heads, white the right eyes of species inhabiting warm water journeyed to the left. No one knew why. When they were hatched, all Flatfish were of orthodox symmetrical shape, with conventional placed mouth and eyes. After they swam around in ordinary fashion for a little while, Flatfish exhibited a tendency to turn to the one side or the other. Immediately after that desire began to develop, the eye of the lower side seemed to acquire a wanderlust. In the case of the Winter Flounder, three-fourths of the 120-degree migration took place in three days. The extent of the eye migration and of the flatness of the species was closely related to its habits. The Sole and the shore Flounder, which kept close to the bottom, were more twisted than the Halibut, the Sand Dab, and the Summer Flounder, which were given to free swimming.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12304359700?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12304359700?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-full"/></a></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Some species that helped constitute the fisheries of the North Atlantic were anadromous – that is, they spent most of their lives in the sea, but came into fresh water to spawn. Among those were the Salmon, the Shad, the Alewife, the Sturgeon, and the Striped Bass. On the Pacific coast the most striking instance of that was the Chinook Salmon, which ascended the Columbia River for a Thousand miles, and the Yukon for two thousand, to find its spawning ground. Sometimes anadromous fishes as the Branch Herring and the Salmon, getting into waters out of which they were unable to find their way, so changed their habits in the course of time that variations from their ancestors set in, which marked the beginnings of the formation of new species. Other fish of commercial importance in North Atlantic waters had spawning habits directly opposite to the anadromous species, and they are called catadromous fishes. The true Eel was the most striking example of that class of fish. Their spawning ground was located between Bermuda and the Leeward Islands, where the water reached a depth of a mile. Although they were nearly alike, and their breeding grounds overlapped, the European and American species neither crossed nor visited one another’s shore. The eggs were laid at a depth of 650 feet and the larvae continued to rise toward the surface as they grew. The only difference found between the European and American species was that the European had a few more vertebrae. Both species started out over a route neither had traveled before. But when it came to the parting of the ways, the European Elver, with a three years’ journey ahead, said goodbye to its American cousin, which had only a year’s swim to get to its future home. By what means that unerring homing instinct was transferred from its parents, which never returned, to the offspring, that must travel a road they had never been over, was a mystery that would probably long await a solution.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The spawning habits of fishes differed as greatly in other respects as in those just mentioned. Some eggs were laid at the surface and left to their fate, with no responsibilities of any kind for the parents; others were heavy enough to sink to the bottom. Some fishes, like the King Salmon, laid their eggs on the stream bed, and the male covered them with gravel. Some species, like the Sticklebacks and the Lumpfish, guarded their eggs until they were hatched. The males of other species, including some of the common Catfishes, carried the eggs in their mouths until they hatched. The females of still other species glued their eggs to the undersurface of their bodies. The male Sea Horse opened up a little pocket beneath its body, took in the eggs from its mate, and carried them in a tiny pouch until they hatched. Not all fishes were oviparous. Some were viviparous, such as most Sharks, the Sawfishes, the Rosefishes, the Rockfishes, and the Surf Fishes. The number of eggs laid varied widely in different species. The Herring laid about 25,000 eggs, the Sturgeon about 635,000, the Halibut as many as 3,500,000, while the Cod had been known to lay more than 9,000,000. Chances of survival were slim. If all the eggs of a single female Herring were to produce similarly productive generations, in ten years the oceans would be overflowing in Herring, and all other creatures of the sea would be crowded out of existence. If only three eggs from each female of each species developed into adult fish similarly productive, fish life would multiple so rapidly that the seas would soon become vastly overcrowded. What did happen was that less than one egg in two million in the Cod produced a reproductive Cod, and, even in the Herring, less than one in ten thousand successfully ran the gamut of existence. Nature’s need for females in many species exceeded the requirements for males. In the case of the Conger Eel, the ratio was nineteen females to every male, and in that of the Herring, three females to every male.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12304360452?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12304360452?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-full"/></a></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The perils fish had to face were innumerable. Huxley estimated that only 5% of the Herring destroyed annually were at the hands of man. The other 95% were the victims of whales, the porpoise family, seals, and other mammals; Cod Haddock, Mackerels, Sharks, and other fishes; gulls, gannets, and other birds; and the thousands of enemies that lurked in their wake at every stage, from the newly spawned egg to the adult fish. Man’s annual catch was nearly eleven billion Herring. On that basis the author concluded that over two hundred billion Herring annually fell victim to their enemies in the sea. Huxley called mankind an association of Herring catchers, and, if the fish that we ate which fed on Herring, he probably had not missed that mark much. He also reminded us that single schools covering half a dozen square miles contained more than three million Herring; yet many schools had been recorded that covered an area of 20 square miles. The migrations of fishes were fascinating. We saw how the Shad, the Salmon, and other species spent their adult lives in the sea and sought fresh water in which to spawn; how others, such as the Eels, spent their lives in rivers and lakes and sought sea water at spawning time. The Mackerel and the Flying Fish families wandered wide from their usual haunts at spawning time. Other species followed the great schools of Menhaden about the seas, following the food. However, for the most part, keeping a complete check on the movement of the fishes in the seas was a problem still awaiting solution. The exact winter home of the common Mackerel was unknown. For a long time, it was supposed that the Hickory Shad spawned in the Chesapeake Bay, but investigations failed to find a single member of the species under six inches long in those waters. Likewise, the spawning ground of the Red Tunney had never been discovered. So also, was it with the Weakfish. The migratory movements of Herring were so complex that a solution had not been found.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">During the summer of 1923, the U. S. Bureau of Fisheries decided to make a careful study of the migration of the Cod, the Pollock, and the Haddock. It tagged 10,000 of those fish – about 85% cod, 15% Pollock, and 5% Haddock – and turned them loose, in hopes that the fishermen of the water they inhabited would return the tags of those caught, with information about the locality in which they were taken, a record of the date, and of their size. For each tag returned, the fisherman received 25 cents and the thanks of the Bureau of Fisheries. In the tagging operation the fish were caught with hook and line at a depth of not more than 20 fathoms. The uninjured fish was laid on a wet board, measured, and length recorded. A metal tag stamped U. S. B. F. was then secured to the upper part of the tail near the base, and the fish was released and all pertinent information recorded. It was hoped that many fishermen would go to the trouble to assist the Government in that effort. A study of the anatomy of fishes and the evolution of their organs threw light on life in the ocean. In order to see underwater, the eyes of the fish were constructed differently from those of land animals; the crystalline lens was almost a perfect sphere instead of the somewhat flattened lens of land animals. The fish’s hearing was decidedly muffled, and it was believed that what was known as the ears were solely organs of equilibrium, as they were partially in man. The sense of taste appeared to be wanting in fish. They swallowed their food whole and quickly. Air dissolved in water offered fish what little oxygen they needed. A man used thousands of times as much oxygen as a fish. Air bladders, or swim bladders, helped them solve the problems of hydrostatics. Bottom fishes had small ones and species that ranged between the surface and the bottom had relatively large ones. The air bladder evolved from a lung. In primitive fish a tube connected it to the throat. Gills evolved to furnish oxygen.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The major fins of fishes corresponded strikingly to the limbs of land mammals. Those back of the gills were known as pectoral fins and corresponded to the arms of humans. Below the pectoral fins were the ventral fins, which corr</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">esponded to the hind legs of quadrupeds. The dorsal fin on the back, the caudal fin at the root of the tail, and the anal fin beneath the body were used to maintain equilibrium or direction. Nowhere was the art of camouflage more strikingly employed than in marine life. Nature provided methods of eliminating the unfit from reproduction. One method was by tests of brute strength; another was by elimination of the sluggards. A thousand and one methods were available. None was more nearly certain among fishes than which removes those failing to make proper use of the art of camouflage. The Flounder, the Halibut, or the Sand Dab, lying on the sand, had harmonizing blotches imprinted all over the upper part of its body, imitating the various types of sand on which it lied. While not a fish, the Lobster supported one of the most important fisheries of the American shores of the North Atlantic. The Lobster, biologically, was a closer relative to the spider than of the fish. The problem of saving the Lobster fisheries from utter depletion was one of the most difficult with which the fish culturists had to deal. The American Lobster was found only on the eastern coast of the U. S. It known range covered a strip of ocean reaching from Labrador to North Carolina, with Maine and lower Canada as the region of greatest concentration. The strip of water was from 30 to 50 miles wide and from 6 to 60 feet deep. From the close of its early free pelagic life to its old age the Lobster never left the sea bottom of its own accord. Its external world was the sea floor, and it was content to stay there. Having considerable power of locomotion, it wandered around as winter approached, from the shallow inshore waters to the deeper ones of the 100-fathom line, searching for food and comfortable waters.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">It walked over the sea floor on its slender legs, which were provided with brushes of sensitive hairs. It kept its “feelers” waving back and forth to detect danger or food. The buoyancy of the water made the Lobster light on its feet. When hungry, it would burrow in the sand rooting for grubs. The Lobster was a cannibal by nature, preying on its weaker brethren. Lobsters had been observed dragging dead prey to some secret spot and burying it, and then standing guard over it. They often fought each other over food. In the American Museum of Natural History in New York, a giant Lobster was preserved whose living weight was 34 pounds. The Smithsonian had one whose living weight was 25 pounds. Few living creatures had such striking habits of changing their clothes as the Lobster. It began to molt, or discard, its outgrown clothes the second day after hatching, and continued to do so with decreasing frequency until it had ceased to grow at all. When the old shell became too small a new skin began to grow underneath it. When that growth neared completion the Lobster became a “shedder.” It cast off not only its old shell, but even the lining of its esophagus, stomach, and intestines. There came a break where the tail joined the shell. The Lobster then turned on its side and bent itself into a “V,” with the break at the apex. Once its old mail was cast off, the new shell was soft. From six weeks to three months were required for the shell to harden. Lobsters had many enemies, but beside man, the Codfish ranked as its worst enemy. It had a particular taste for young Lobsters from two to four inches in size. Though only a few parasites of Lobsters were known, it had many hitchhikers – Barnacles, Mussels, Tunicata, Annelida, Bryozoa, and various forms of algae – attached themselves to their host. The Lobster chewed its food before passing it into its mouth. One Lobster claw was a large, crushing type of pincer and the other a grabbing type. Lobsters regenerated the claws when lost. The female laid from 5,000 to 75,000 eggs depending on the Lobster’s size.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">While the ocean teemed with life, man took little advantage of it. The list of fishes fit for food was much longer than the list of food fishes. Even on the floor of the deepest trench of the sea bottom, where no rays of light ever reached, where Stygian darkness was perpetual, where all but freezing temperatures never ceased, and where inconceivable pressures prevailed, the miracle of life still went on! In size, the denizens of the deep sea ranged from microscopic to mammoth creatures. The area of the sea was three times that of the land. Its average depth was more than two miles. The sea had 138 times as much territory 12,000 below sea-level as the land had 12,000 feet above. While man commanded 57,000,000 square miles of land, marine fauna had 140,000,000 square miles of sea, with scores of depth zones over most of that area, each with its own characteristic forms of life. With the great existing disproportion in area between land and sea, it was evident that man, with his seemingly insatiable mass appetite, would have to look more and more to the sea for his food. And yet on every hand one already saw the results of overfishing on many of the species now entering the fish markets. The Shad and the Salmon were growing scarcer and higher-priced with each passing year. Between overfishing and pollution, the fresh and brackish coastal waters were seeing their fisheries depleted rapidly toward the vanishing point. The Atlantic Salmon had disappeared from many rivers. The supply of Shad in the Potomac and the Susquehanna was gradually declining. Similar alarming conditions occurred among other species. The Smelt had disappeared from the Naugatuck, and the Striped Bass from the lower Hudson and East River. Twenty years ago, Weakfish were caught off New Jersey shores in a week as were now [in 1923] taken in a season. The same conditions prevailed in the shellfish fisheries. Oysters were disappearing from beds where once they were plentiful.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The story of the constant yearly depletion of the Lobster fishery was told in every area where the fishery existed. In colonial times, Lobsters were so plentiful that even the poorest of the people might feast to their heart’s content on that succulent crustacean. Even as late as 1889 the catch in the U. S. reached a total of 30,000,000 pounds which sold for $80,000 – less than three cents a pound. Ten years later, the catch was only half as large, while the price had more than doubled. The catch of Maine alone, in 1880, was greater than the total catch from the Delaware Bay to the Canadian shores in 1922. Radical protective action was needed to protect stream from pollution. A pound of bark to 30 gallons of water would kill Bass in a day. A pound of wood chips to seven gallons of water was fatal to Salmon fry. If such simple pollutions destroyed fish by the wholesale, what destruction was wrought by oil and tar, sludge and bilge! Overfishing might be combatted in two ways – by artificial propagation and by restricting the catch, either as to season or as to size. Artificial propagation had proved its value in the case of fresh-water and anadromous fishes. The Shad and Salmon fisheries continued only because of the U. S. Bureau of Fisheries had preserved them through artificial propagation. In the first few weeks of a fishling’s life constituted a high mortality period, in which thousands died where one survived. If an artificial method could be devised to bring the fry past the critical period, their chances of survival would be vastly improved. Plankton was needed as food for the fry. The scarcity or abundance of plankton was found to depend upon sunlight and temperature. The examination of scales of fish revealed that in any school of adults there was a great preponderance of some particular age. Figuring back, that class coincided with a year most favorable to the development of plankton. That line of investigation showed how important the study of marine life was.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">To meet the alarming decline of the Lobster fishery, several States interested in its protection had enacted various laws. Some had provisions for a closed season. Laws prohibiting the destruction of female Lobsters “in berry” – that is, carrying eggs – had also been enacted. In addition, attempts had been made to propagate them artificially by hatching and liberating fry. Existing policies had not, however, checked the decline. More was needed to be done. When a fish died, it was immediately devoured, it rarely leaves a trace. Once in a great while, a tooth or a fin spine was fossilized in clay. Few traces of the earliest fishes of the geologic past had been found. The oldest fish remains came down from the Lower Silurian age, a time before any land animal had appeared. From early geologic times many things had played important roles in determining the distribution of the various species of fish. In New England waters there were few Bluefish, while there were plenty in Delaware Bay. In the case of Cod, the situation was reversed. There were practically no Croakers in New England, but plenty off the New Jersey shore. There were few Herring between Long Island Sound and Delaware Bay, while the Menhaden were most abundant there. Temperature was regarded as the principal influence in separating the fishes. There were some species that were equally at home in warm and cool waters – the Alewife, the Butter-fish, the Summer Flounder, and the Scup. Boston was the fishing capital of the New World, and yielded only to Grimsby, England, as the worlds leading fishing port. In the North Atlantic fisheries, Canada had 43,000 men employed against 76,000 for New England and the Middle Atlantic States. In the U. S. fisheries north of Delaware Bay, the Menhaden took first rank in weight of the catch, 256 million pounds. Next came the Herring (98 million pounds), the Haddock (89 mil), The Cod (86 mil), the Pollock (25 mil), the Flounder (22 mil), the Hake (21 mil), and the Whiting (20 mil).</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The Mackerel was next with 17 million pounds with the Weakfish and the Scup just behind that weight. The Alewife (5 million pounds), the Butter-fish (4.6 mil), the Croaker (4.2 mil), the Bluefish (3.4 mil), and the Cusk and Bonito (2 mil each) round out the North Atlantic annual haul. The Lobster fishery yielded over 12 million pounds annually, nearly half from Maine. Being a wealthy country, the people in the U. S. selected their food, from land and sea, more for flavor than nourishment. They were slow to adopt new salt-water fishes into their diet. Not to long ago [in 1923], the Pollock and the Tuna were in small demand. The Flounder, likewise, was eaten only by a few. So, it had been with the Haddock and the minor Salmons. Sea Mussels and Tilefish showed how the public taste could be trained under proper guidance, and as the population of the country grew, we should follow Europe in the utilization of marine resources to supplement our land crops. In 1923, we ate a third as much fish per capita as the people of Europe. We had overfished a few of our species, but the great majority had barely been touched. Three basic handicaps – perishability of the product, unevenness or uncertainty of supply, and unsteady consumer demand – had kept the fresh-fish industry from developing as it should. Other products had one or two of those handicaps. Lately, ways were being discovered to overcome the perishability of fish. Fish could be frozen, as soon as taken, in low-temperature brine. A fish bought in a market stall was seldom as fresh as a frozen fish pre-cooled when caught. Once that type of frozen fish became widely available, the author predicted the zone in which marine fish were eaten fresh would reach much further back from the coast than it did in 1923. A Canadian fisherman had tried shipping live Lake Trout to New York, with striking success. He sent in one shipment 6,000 pounds of Trout. Fish from the sea would help solve America’s food problem. Salmon had more nutrients than round steak, and Shad, more than chicken.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">There were six million farms in the U. S. As demand for food grew more pressing, each would probably have their own fish pond. Assuming each farm produced three pounds of fish per week, more than a billion pounds would be available, releasing a nearly equivalent amount of other meat for urban consumption. The U. S. Bureau of Fisheries foresaw the day when exact knowledge of the marine and fresh-water conditions that made for an abundant fish supply would be one of our major concerns. The Bureau’s work in introducing the Shad into Pacific waters had been a service of the first order. Its success in saving the Atlantic Salmon and the Shad from extermination in eastern rivers was another instance of its unusual value to the nation. Its rescue of the Seal fishery from destruction and its protection of the Alaska Salmon fishery had earned for it a universal appreciation. Yet those activities were but a prelude to the things remaining to be done. Ichthyology in 1923 stood at a point where a correct appraisal had been made possible of the problems remaining to be solved in order to develop for mankind all the potential treasures of the sea. It was an interesting coincidence that most of the game fishes of salt water habitat belonged to those species that were favorites as food fishes. Angling with rod and reel for salt-water fishes was of comparatively recent origin. The Tuna, the Black Sea Bass, the Weakfish, the Striped Bass, the Bluefish, the Tautog, and the Sheepshead all offered sport as did the Tarpon. One authority had called the Tarpon, Tuna, and Black Sea Bass the lion, tiger, and elephant trinity of the angling world. The Tuna was an inhabitant of many seas. In the North Atlantic it was known as the Horse Mackerel, in the North Sea as the Tunny, in the Mediterranean as the Great Albacore, and off California and Florida as the Tuna. Such a fine fighter needed special tackle. Special boats were required for Tuna fishing. They were broad-beamed launches equipped with a 3- to 5-horsepower engine.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The Tarpon was not classed as a food fish, but was to Atlantic waters all that the Tuna was to Pacific, the acme in sea sport fishing. The vast schools of Mullet upon which the Tarpon preyed formed the magnet that drew him to the various feeding grounds in the Gulf and Florida waters. Ordinarily, one did not think of the Weakfish as offering much in the way of sport, but when angled for with appropriate tackle, it could give the fisherman thrills that left nothing to be desired. Its abundance and willingness to bite made it popular with anglers who want action. It was a handsome member of the finny tribe. The Cape Cod fishermen called it the “drummer: because of the peculiar noise it made when traveling in schools. All anglers agreed that the fisherman who hooked a Striped Bass with proper tackle had a run for his money. Loving brackish waters, the Striped Bass brought the sport of the philosophers a considerable distance inland. Usually, we thought of the Bluefish as one of the dependables of the bill of fare, but it had some excitement to offer the angler who preferred the rod and reel. One angler had described the hooked Bluefish as a wild tiger, with all the strength, courage, and deviltry. Lobster tails, shredded Crabs, live Killies, or small Herring were tempting tidbits to the voracious Bluefish, which was called the glutton of the sea. The Bluefish, like the Striped Bass, brought the joy of salt-water game fishing into many of the Atlantic coast rivers, notably the Hudson, the lower Potomac, and Hampton Roads. Some deep-water food fishes offered good sport for the angler. One of those was the Sea Bass, a rather sluggish citizen of the sea, but a ready biter and interesting game. Sometimes, the Black Sea Bass broke water like its river cousin, and made vicious leaps and contortions in its effort to free itself. The Kingfish was, perhaps, the gamest for its size of all the bottom-feeding fishes. The treasures of the sea were many, but none are more certain to delight the true sportsman than the game fish that inhabit its waters.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The second item listed on this month’s cover is entitled “The North Atlantic Food Fishes” and has Hashime Murayama on the byline. It is not an article but “Sixteen Pages of Illustrations in Full Color” as headlined on the cover. Mr. Murayama is not an author, but the artist who painted the “16 Full-Page Illustrations in Color.” The set of color plates are numbered in Roman numerals from I to XVI representing pages 613 to 628 in the issue. These color plates, together with the first article and a series of descriptive entries comprise another field guide that recurringly appear in these older issues. The article makes repeated references to the descriptions and plates, while each plate is linked to one or more descriptions depending on how many fish species are represented in the painting. Each entry in this field guide has a Heading comprised of the fish’s common name followed by the Latin genus and species; a link to its color plate, and a description of the fish, its habits, its range, and its consumption.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I have decided to list the entries’ headings in the field guide since several may share a color plate. The plate number is also listed (note: Flounders were listed as one entry):</span></p>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Pollock (Pollachius virens) – I.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Codfish (Gadus callarias) – I.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Haddock (Melanogrammus aglifinus) – I.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Winter Flounder (Pseudopleuronectes americanus) – II.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Summer Flounder (Paralichthys dentatus) – II.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Halibut (Hippoglossus hippoglossus) – III.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Common Sturgeon (Acipenser sturio) – IV.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Squirrel Hake (Urophycis chuss) – V.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Cusk (Brosmius brosme) – V.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Whiting (Merluccius bilinearis) – V.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Mackerel (Scomber scombrus) – VI.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Tuna (Thunnus thynnus) – VII.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Shad (Alosa sapidissima) – VIII.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Alewife (Pomolobus pseudoharengus) – IX.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Herring (Clupea harengus) – IX.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Tautog (Tautoga onitis) – X.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Butter-Fish (Poronotus triacanthus) – XI.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Scup (Stenotomus chrysops) – XI.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Atlantic Salmon (Salmo salar) – XII.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Swordfish (Xiphias gladius) – XIII. [Note: Plate reference mislabeled VIII.]</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Smelt (Osmerus mordax) – XIV.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Tilefish (Lopholatilus chamaeleonticeps) – XV.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">American Lobster (Homarus americanus) – XVI.</span></li>
</ul>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The second article (third item) listed on this month’s cover is entitled “A Short Visit to Wales” and was written by Ralph A. Graves, author of “Fearful Famines of the Past,” “The Romance of Geneva,” etc., in the <em>National Geographic Magazine</em>. The article has an internal subheading which reads “Historic Associations and Scenic Beauties Contend for Interest in the Little Land Behind the Hills.” It contains thirty-seen black-and-white photographs, of which twenty-four are full-page in size. Of those full-page photos, sixteen are really a set of undocumented duotones to be discussed later. The article also contains a sketch map of Wales on page 639 (one of the few that Philip Riviere missed).</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Both scenically and historically, the Principality of Wales was one of the most alluring regions of the British Isles, yet comparatively few of the thousands of American tourists who made the transatlantic voyage included it in their itinerary. It was accessible, the hotels accommodations were admirable. The people hospitable, the highways irreproachable, and the summer climate delightful. But the average American traveler took one look at his guidebook and decided to go to the English Lakes district, to Scotland, or to Paris. With place names like Bettws-y-Coed and Bodelwyddan, a traveler at a train station could not tell where he wished to go. He might have equipped himself in advance by studying some “easy rules for pronouncing Welsh name.” But if ever he imagined that he could have remembered such rules, he forgot their application the moment he heard <em>glin-div’r-doo-I</em>, meaning Glyndyfrdwy. It was so much simpler to go elsewhere. Consequently, at tourist agencies the Welsh window never had a waiting line, and few clerks were able to give one advice as to where to go, how long to stay, and how to come back. It was a pity, for within that little principality, having an area smaller than New Jersey, one found the loftiest mountains, the loveliest waterfalls, beaches which rivaled Atlantic City, streams that teamed with Trout and other fishes, footpaths through vale and forests, and gray ruins of towers and bastions from the Middle Ages. For the visitor who chose to visit Wales for a weekend, had to decide which Wales he should visit – Northern Wales, Middle Wales, and Southern Wales. Each region had its definite appeal and each its peculiarities. The guide book did not help in reaching a decision. The author left it to chance and chose to visit the place where David Lloyd George, the war-time prime minister hailed. He found it was Northern Wales.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The gateway to that region was that unique city of western England, Chester, with its mellow old cathedrals, its fine walls, and its other-days atmosphere. By taking an early morning train from London, the author was able to have a sufficient stop-over in the border town to convince him that he had to return for a longer visit. That ancient city’s famous Rows were four streets with sidewalks with two tiers. The shopper went from store to store along a sort of open arcade, and at the end of the block, if he was on the second story sidewalk, he descended by a stairway to the street level, crossed to the next block, and continued shopping. Mystery surrounded the origin of those Rows. A visit to the sixteenth-century “Stanley Palace” was worth the time, if one had an hour to spare. It was there that for sixteen weeks the Earl of Derby was concealed under the ceiling from Cromwell’s men. But all in vain: a false servant thwarted a resourceful wife, and Stanley lost his head. Just off the drawing room in that quaint old structure were two windowless cubby-holes, where guest would sit in the glow of smoking rushlights and converse after lights out. But regardless of Chester’s compelling charm, the author could not linger on the threshold of Wales. Crossing the River Dee, his train entered Wales, bound for Carnarvon, 69 miles distant by way of Rhyl, Conway, and Bangor. Just six miles southwest of Chester rose Hawarden Castle, famous in Welsh history. His train did not stop in Rhyl, the first considerable Welsh seaside resort. It had its attractive marine drive and promenade, its pavilions, and its piers. Nor did he stop in Conway. He left the train at Bangor and paid a hurried visit to their famous suspension bridge over the Manai Strait, with a length of 580 feet from pier to pier and 1,710 over all from the mainland to the island of Anglesey. It had been surpassed by other bridges, but when it was opened, a hundred years prior, it was regarded as a notable engineering triumph.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12304361855?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12304361855?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-full"/></a></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Resuming his journey, he arrived late in afternoon at Carnarvon, a community which concentrated more history in smaller pace than any other town in Wales. Depositing his baggage at a low-spreading hotel, he meandered up the main street. Turning a corner, he was suddenly face to face with one of the finest castles in Great Britain. Built entirely of hewn stone, the imposing structure stood on the peninsula formed where the River Seiont flowed into the Menai Strait. Every room in the great building had its legends. The noble banquet hall was 100 feet long and 45 feet wide. The author preferred to accept the legend that the first English Price of Wales was born there 639 years prior [to 1923]. During the reign of Edward I, the Welsh rose against the English. Edward brought his army to Wales and put down the rebellion led by Llewelyn the Last. He then commissioned his architect to build castles at Conway, Carnarvon, Criccieth, and Harlech, as strongholds from which in future he might hold his turbulent subjects in check. During his long stay in Wales, Edward’s queen, Eleanor, visited him at Carnarvon, and, in a small room in the Eagle Tower of the unfinished castle, she gave birth to he who would become Edward II. A few years later (1301) that son was formally created “Prince of Wales,” and from that day on the recognized heir to the English throne had borne that title. From the towers of that stronghold the author surveyed the scenes of many of the most stirring episodes of Welsh history – a panorama of two thousand years, from the time when Roman legions occupied the site as the city of Segontium to the present day [1923], symbolized by the bronze statue of David Lloyd George standing in the shadow of the castle walls. A short distance from the castle was Twt Hill, below which was an immense pavilion capable of seating 8,000 persons, and yet its capacity was greatly overtaxed whenever an Eisteddfodau was held in Carnarvon.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The Eisteddfodau were among the most distinctive and inspiring institutions preserved for sixteen hundred years by the Welsh. They were the famous festivals of song, music, and poetry where Welsh bards participated in contests comparable to those of ancient Greece. The national Eisteddfod had been held annually since 1819, in Northern Wales and Southern Wales alternately. One of the contests was the “pennillion” singing, in which the poets compose their songs after the harpist had begun his melody. Such contests had made the Welsh a nation of singers, and the rivalry between the various sections was such that even underground the coal miners would rehearse their choruses for the coming Eisteddfod. To celebrate the end of the war, the Welsh soldiers decided upon a Festival of Song, which was held on every battlefield where there was a Welsh contingent in the line. At a recent Eisteddfod held in the village of Ammanford, South Wales, there were more than 18,000 spectators, including Welshmen who had returned for the occasion from the four corners of the world. The choruses, solos, and contests in poetry, history, and criticism lasted for several days and continue from early morning until late at night. The object of those great gatherings was to perpetuate the Welsh language, popularize the Welsh literature, and afford the people the cultural advantage of good music. How effective they had been in maintaining the ancient language was judged from the fact that Cymric was in everyday use in railways, churches, shops, and other public places. England absorbed Wales four centuries prior [to 1923], but 8% of the people spoke only Welsh and nearly a third spoke both English and Welsh. In Scotland, less than one half of 1% of the people spoke their ancient tongue exclusively, and less then 4% spoke both Gaelic and English. In Ireland, despite the intense nationalism of its people, less than 4% spoke Irish (Gaelic) exclusively, and only one in eight spoke both Irish and English.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12304361889?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12304361889?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-full"/></a></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">It was only a few miles’ ride by train from Carnarvon to Llanberis, where the ascent of Mount Snowdon might be made by footpath or by rack and pinion railway. That peak simply must be scaled by every visitor to Wales. It was expected; like visiting the Washington Monument when on a trip to the U. S. capital. Since the author had only a weekend for his trip, he used the railway avoiding a time-consuming climb. More than an hour was required to reach the top – 3,560 feet above sea-level. The upward climb afforded a succession of pictures of hills, lakes, seas, and clouds. Slate quarries clung perilously to the mountainside. Shafts of sunlight pierced the clouds, from time to time, giving color to the adjacent slopes, with their bits of pasture and flocks of sheep. From the summit on a clear day, one could see the Cumberland Mountains, the Isle of Man, the Wicklow Mountains in Ireland, and Holyhead Mountain on the coast of South Anglesey, 32 miles distant. On the authors visit, he could only decern the nearby peaks due to lifting and lowering mists. Snowden was not a unique mountain in that respect. Other heights, Rigi-Kulm, above the Lake of Lucerne, and Mount Tamalpais, in California, played the same shabby trick upon the sightseer. If Snowden were in the U. S. it would hardly be noticed. Twenty-five of our States had loftier summits than that premier Welsh peak. Mount Whitney, in California, was over four time as tall as Snowdon. Measured in historical association and scenic charm, however, Snowdon held its own with far nobler heights. It had been rightly called the Parnassus of the British Isles. One of the folk tales of the region was intimately connected to America. It was among those foothills, so the story went, that Madoc, son of the Prince of Gwynedd, set forth, some time in the twelfth century, to find a new land. He sailed for months across the western seas and finally came to America. There was some evidence that it was true. A far more substantial link to America was the fact that the Snowdon region was the ancestral home of Thomas Jefferson.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Returning to Carnarvon from Llanberis by motor bus, the author passed within sight of a wooded eminence known as Dina Emrys. Legend tells of a Briton King who built a tower there as a shelter for his old age. However high the walls were raised by day they would tumble down at night. The king’s advisers claimed the walls would not stand unless they were sprinkled with the blood of a child who never had a father. Merlin proved to be the desired prodigy, born of a virgin and a demon. He convinced the king that the walls fell each night because of two dragons in a subterranean lake. The lake was drained, the dragons slain, and Merlin was spared to live for many years and figure in countless Arthurian legends. Railroad schedules and motor-bus routes apparently were especially designed to meet the whims of all tourists in Northern Wales. One could go almost anywhere, at any time, usually with less than a half-hour’s wait at a railway station or bus-stop. Waterfalls and meadows, rolling landscapes, and flashing seascapes, gladdened the short journey from historic spot to delightful watering place. The authors journey next took him to Llandudno, appropriately styled the queen of Welsh watering places. The town itself was built around a vast semicircle of firm sandy beach, with the ends of the crescent tipped with two towering masses of rock, the Great Orme’s Head and the Little Orme. No other European bathing resort had a situation comparable to that magnificent watering place. And the Welsh had made excellent use of it. A concrete “boardwalk,” wider than New York’s Broadway, followed the graceful curve of the beach for more than a mile and a half. A pier, jutting out into the bay for half a mile, was the scene of daily concerts and dances, while along its full lengths were booths of fortune-tellers, catch-penny vendors, and other attractions. Marine Drive, chiseled out of the solid rock of Great Orme’s Head, wound between sea and sky midway along the precipitous cliff.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12304362457?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12304362457?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-full"/></a></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">There were many spots which lured the visitor: Happy Valley, nestled in a hollow of the Great Orme; the Church of our Savior (where Dean Liddell’s daughter, Alice, inspired Lewis Carroll; and St. Tudno’s Church, a medieval structure occupying the site of the cell of St. Tudno, a hermit of the seventh century. In contrast to the fashionable European watering places, Llandudno achieved a saintly calm on Sunday. There was no music on the pier, motor-bus offices were closed, and all inquiry booths suspended operation. It was impossible to make railway reservations, and the ticket office was only open for ten minutes prior to the train’s arrival. One was compelled to rest on the Day of Rest in Wales. A note to the weekender – do not defer your trip to Mount Snowden until Sunday; the mountain Railway was not operated that day. One could play golf on Sundays, but the hiring of caddies was forbidden. On Llandudno’s North Wales Golf Course, which overlooked the Irish Sea, only four greens could be seen from their driving tees. Monday mornings must have provided a bonanza of lost balls for the caddies. There was an interesting colony of summer residents in Llandudno which the tourist rarely saw and which he seldom heard. They were Moroccan merchant princes and their entourages. Those princes resided in England half the year, purchasing cotton goods at Manchester for consumption in the Muslim world. The summer sightseer enjoyed the advantage of long days in that part of Wales, and a newspaper could be read in the open as late as 10:30 in the evening. Conway Castle, like that at Carnarvon, had Welsh history graven on every stone. It, too, was built by Edward I, but it had not been restored as was the latter. Of close secondary interest to the castle was Plas Mawr (“the Great Mansion”), a picturesque sixteenth-century house. In 1923, it was the headquarters of the Royal Cambrian Academy of Art. Every visitor to Conway paid a pilgrimage to the little Church of St. Mary, part of which was once a Cistercian abbey founded in the twelfth century.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">One could wander for many weekends through Northern Wales without exhausting the list of quaint villages and their contiguous scenic beauties. If one was to look at the Wales of Industry, one went to the south. The three largest towns in the principality – Cardiff, with 200,000 inhabitants; Swansea, with 157,000; and Merthyr Tydfil, with 80,000 – were situated in Glamorganshire, a county occupying only one-ninth of the country’s area, but where more than half the total population was congested. That was the great coal-mining district of Wales, where one person in six, man, woman, and child, worked underground, producing 47,000,000 to 57,000,000 tons of coal annually (chiefly bituminous coal) – one-fifth of the annual supply of the United Kingdom. In addition, this was the only important anthracite region in Europe. South Wales was also the copper-mining district and the center for the tin-plate industry of Great Britain. Of the 82 Welsh tin-plate mills, 65 were concentrated within a radius of 18 miles of Swansea. There was one celebrated industrial plant, however, which the Northern Wales tourist might visit by motor-bus from Llandudno. It was the Penrhyn slate quarries, near Bethesda. These were said to be the largest quarries in the world, and had at times employed as many as 3,000 workmen, producing 360 tons of slate a day. The quarries resembled a vast amphitheater with tiers 50 feet in height.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12304362671?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12304362671?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-full"/></a></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> One might wander for days through the towns of Wales without seeing anyone wearing the “witch’s hat” which most thought of as typical. One never went to Wales without encountering two standbys of the centuries – the story of the hound of Beddgelert, and a certain place name on the island of Anglesey. Beddgelert was 13 miles by motor bus from Carnarvon. The town was the center for many charming walks. The author visited the grave of Gelert, a dog belonging to one of the Llewelyn clans. His master returned home one day to find the dog covered with blood and the cradle of his child overturned. In rage and grief, Llewelyn slew the dog. But when the cradle was rightened, the child was found unharmed with a dead wolf at its side. Llewelyn, realizing too late that he owed his son’s life to the dog, buried the animal, and place a stone over his grave. People came to pay tribute to that prototype of “mankind’s best friend.” The second Welsh stand-by was not legendary but geographical. It was the first village on the Anglesey shore, four miles from Bangor. Mapmakers labeled it briefly “Llanfairpwllgwyngyll,” or merely “Llanfair P. G., but its unabridged name was <em>Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerwchwyrndrobwllllandysiliogogogoch</em>, which meant “Church of St. Mary in a hollow of white hazel, near to a rapid whirlpool and to St. Tysilio’s Church, near the red cave.” The street urchins of that town reaped a considerable harvest from tourists, who paid a penny to have the name pronounced. The author enjoyed his weekend in Northern Wales, and longed to repeat the experience.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">As mentioned above, the second article contains a set of sixteen undocumented duotones concurrent from page 645 to 660. Duotones, formerly called photogravures, are full-page images created by transferring a special ink to paper using an acid-etched metal plate; the deeper the etch, the darker the transfer.</span></p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12304363260?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12304363260?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-full"/></a></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">A list of the caption titles for these duotones is as follows:</span></p>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“On Her Way to the Cockle Sands”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Menai Suspension Bridge, Once a Marvel of Engineering”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“The Castle of Criccieth, Built on a High Rock Jutting Out into the Air”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Mount Snowdon, the Most Distant Peak on the Right, Seen from Llanberis”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Conway Castle and the Suspension Bridge Over the Conway River”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“East Gate and Guildhall, Carnarvon, Capital of Northern Wales”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Two Women in Welsh Costume Winding Yarn in a Garden at Carnarvon”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“An Airplane View of Cardiff, the Metropolis of Wales”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Cockle Gatherers”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Rhuddlan Castle, Three Miles Inland from Rhyl”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“The Opening of the Wading Season at Tenby, South Wales”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Welsh Sheep in Montgomeryshire”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Carnarvon Castle, One of the Finest Specimens of a Medieval Fortress in Britain”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“A Cottage of Northern Wales”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">““La Marguerite” Arriving at Menai Bridge”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“A Girl of Snowdonia in Welsh Costume”</span></li>
</ul>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12304363086?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12304363086?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-full"/></a></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The third article in this month’s issue is entitled “The National Geographic Society’s Memorial to American Troops” and was written by Dr. J. Howard Gore, Chairman of the Memorial Committee, who represented the Board of Trustees and members of the National Geographic Society, at the dedication service. It has the internal subtitle: “Fountain and Water Supply System Presented to Historic French Town of Cantigny, Where Our Overseas Soldiers Won Their First Victory in the World War.” The article contains four black-and-white photographs, of which two are full-page in size. One of the full-page photos serves as the frontispiece to the article.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">To Bunker Hill and Gettysburg, the World War added another holy place of American History – Cantigny. At this little white stone village of France, American overseas troops, fighting as a unit, first exhibited their valor and received their first baptism of German fire. Members of the National Geographic Society had the honor of bestowing upon this Old World shrine the first memorial gift commemorating an event and a place which would loom ever large in the perspective of history. On Cantigny’s tiny hill, near Montdidier, some 20 miles from Amies, that memorial was tendered to the village, in the name of The Society, in the presence of high French officials, on France’s beloved Bastille Day, July 14, 1923, by Dr. J. Howard Gore. [Note: See map, “Western Theater of War,” Special Supplement in colors, <a href="http://ngscollectors.ning.com/forum/topics/100-years-ago-may-1918-with-page-number-anomaly" target="_self">May 1918</a>, <em>National Geographic</em> Magazine.] The gift consisted of a complete water-supply system for the village, including a capacious artesian well and pump, a handsome central fountain of white marble, a large pond, and accessory water pipes and outlets to all parts of the village. Many official delegations attended the ceremonies, including the color guard from the American Legion, but the most picturesque groups that gathered were French school children bearing American flags. In Dr. Gores address of presentation, he stated “The National Geographic Society, with a membership of 800,000, under the leadership of its resourceful and energetic president, Dr. Gilbert Grosvenor, was active in many lines of endeavor to aid the Allies cause and to contribute to the welfare and comfort of our soldiers at home and abroad. At the close of the war The Society, finding itself with an unexpended balance of a fund, decided to utilize it in erecting a memorial to our participation in the great conflict.” The fund Dr. Gore referred to was that voluntarily contributed by the members to equip Society wards in American Military Hospital No. I, at Neuilly, France. The fund that ministered to the men now could memorialize them.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12304362898?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12304362898?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-full"/></a></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Cantigny was chosen as the recipient for that gift upon the advice of General Pershing. It was the First American Division that first went over the top at Cantigny. War records had since disclosed that the German General Staff had ordered that the heart be taken out of the Americans, at any cost, when they first showed up as a unit anywhere on the fighting front. That order converted what would have been a skirmish into a terrific struggle, during which the Germans rallied thousands of men and hurled 19,000 shells into the tiny town. Even after Americans took Cantigny, they had to hold it against six counterattacks. Cantigny of 1923 typified the heroism of her own people in peace, as she once signalized the courage of the American troops. The town was devastated – swept of not only every habitation, but every semblance of being a habitable place. The surviving citizens of Cantigny hesitated to rebuild their homes because of the lack of water in that dry district, and it was not until The Society offered a memorial water supply that a reconstruction of that heroic and historic town was undertaken. The dramatic moment of the Bastille Day ceremony took place after the mayor of Cantigny accepted the gift of The Society and “The Star-Spangled Banner” and the “Marseillaise” uncovered the heads of the crowd. And its significance, perhaps, was best summed up when a rosy-cheeked schoolgirl in blue presented Dr. Gore with a bouquet of countryside flowers and a bystander explained: “It is the water your Society provided which makes our hillside bloom.”</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12304363676?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12304363676?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-full"/></a></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Tom Wilson</span></p> 2014 issues differences between online archive and Australian editiontag:ngscollectors.ning.com,2023-11-24:1029239:Topic:2960322023-11-24T14:57:20.672ZPece Kocovskihttps://ngscollectors.ning.com/profile/PeceKocovski
<p>As per my previous posts (see <a href="https://ngscollectors.ning.com/forum/topics/2021-issues-differences-between-online-archive-and-australian" rel="noopener" target="_blank">here</a> for an example), I will make a posting of all differences I see between the online version, and the physical copies we receive here in Australia. I will focus on 2013 next.</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>2014 December:</strong></p>
<p>-Front cover different to online edition:…</p>
<p>As per my previous posts (see <a href="https://ngscollectors.ning.com/forum/topics/2021-issues-differences-between-online-archive-and-australian" target="_blank" rel="noopener">here</a> for an example), I will make a posting of all differences I see between the online version, and the physical copies we receive here in Australia. I will focus on 2013 next.</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>2014 December:</strong></p>
<p>-Front cover different to online edition:<a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12293878059?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"></a></p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12294177069?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><font color="#000080"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12294177069?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-center" width="308" height="409"/></font></a>-Contents page condensed to one page and different to online version:</p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12294177689?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12294177689?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-center" width="245" height="326"/></a></p>
<p>-Like the 2015, 2016 and 2017 editions, on my page of "World Beat" I do not have the "Statement of Ownership, Management, and Monthly Circulation of National Geographic" info. I first noticed this section in my 2018 December issue. Never prior to this. It has been in 2019, 2020, and 2021 December (I assume it will also be in December 2022).</p>
<p>-Embrace the Untamed page is missing in Australian edition.</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>2014 November:</strong></p>
<p>-Contents page has been condensed from two pages to one. Note page 74, lack of blurb on image, note for the "special poster", and "Make Way for Millet" is replaced with "World Hunger Facts" under 'Explore' section.</p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12300359058?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12300359058?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-center" width="271" height="360"/></a></p>
<p>-Make Way for Millet page is missing in Australian edition.</p>
<p>-"Thank You" page is missing.</p>
<p>-A Vanishing Migration page is missing.</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>2014 October: </strong></p>
<p>-Contents page has been condensed from two pages to one. Note lack of blurb on image.</p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12300368069?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12300368069?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-center" width="311" height="413"/></a></p>
<p>-The Future of Food page is missing in Australian edition.</p>
<p>-Hybrids Beat the Traffic page is missing.</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>2014 September: </strong></p>
<p>-Contents page has been condensed from two pages to one. Note lack of blurb on image and fact that image is different. Further, the "Next" section has been renamed (though appear as the same stories on this list).</p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12300370669?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12300370669?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-center" width="299" height="397"/></a></p>
<p>-Page 2 of "Your Shot" page is missing in Australian edition.</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>2014 August: </strong></p>
<p>-Contents page has been condensed from two pages to one. Note lack of blurb on image and fact that image is different. </p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12300377301?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12300377301?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-center" width="274" height="364"/></a></p>
<p>-Page 2 and 3 of Your Shot missing in Australian edition.</p>
<p>-Depp Sea Creature page is missing.</p>
<p>-A La Carte page is missing.</p>
<p>-Primate Rescue page is missing.</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>2014 July: </strong></p>
<p>-Contents page has been condensed from two pages to one. Note lack of blurb on image and fact that image is different. </p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12300380263?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12300380263?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-center" width="270" height="358"/></a></p>
<p>-"Credits" page is missing in Australian edition.</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>2014 June: </strong></p>
<p>-Contents page has been condensed from two pages to one. Note lack of blurb on image and fact that image is different. Bullfighting under Next section worded differently, while others identical (odd?).</p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12300381899?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12300381899?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-center" width="311" height="412"/></a></p>
<p>-"Credits" page is missing in Australian edition.</p>
<p>-2014 Emerging Explorers pages are missing.</p>
<p>-Your shot page 2 is missing.</p>
<p>-"Thank You" page is missing.</p>
<p>-Food Banks page is missing.</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>2014 May: </strong></p>
<p>-Contents page has been condensed from two pages to one. Note lack of blurb on image and fact that image is different. </p>
<p><strong><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12300385271?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12300385271?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-center" width="257" height="341"/></a></strong>-Page 2 and 3 of letter pages are missing in Australian edition.<br/></p>
<p>-"Credits" page is missing in Australian edition.</p>
<p>-Your Shot pages 2,3, and 4 are missing.</p>
<p>-New Hope for Hair page is missing.</p>
<p>-A La Carte page is missing.</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>2014 April: </strong></p>
<p>-I happen to have two copies of this issues with the cover matching the online archive, and one with a barcode. My issues are identical with each other (including the ads), except for "on the cover" blurb.</p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12300388659?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12300388659?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-center" width="388" height="292"/></a></p>
<p>-Contents page has been condensed from two pages to one. Note lack of blurb on image and fact that image is different. The 'On the cover' section is different per the issue on the left.</p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12300391073?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12300391073?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-center" width="271" height="359"/></a></p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12300391491?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12300391491?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-center" width="300" height="226"/></a></p>
<p>-Page 2 letter page is missing in Australian edition.</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>2014 March: </strong></p>
<p>-Contents page has been condensed from two pages to one. Note lack of blurb on image and fact that image is different.</p>
<p><strong><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12300397262?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12300397262?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-center" width="235" height="312"/></a></strong></p>
<p>-"Credits" page is missing in Australian edition.</p>
<p>-Your Shot pages 2,3, 4, and 5 are missing (page 3 and 4 technically an add?).</p>
<p>-"Food by the Numbers - Female Farmers" page is not present in the online edition (is it in the American physical copy?). This page is between 'Sticking Points' page and 'Spitting Image'.</p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12300401481?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12300401481?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-center" width="431" height="370"/></a></p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>2014 February: </strong></p>
<p>-Contents page has been condensed from two pages to one. Note lack of blurb on image and fact that image is different.</p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12300403678?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12300403678?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-center" width="285" height="379"/></a></p>
<p></p>
<p><b>2014 January:</b></p>
<p>-Contents page has been condensed from two pages to one. Note lack of blurb on image and fact that image is different.</p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12300407668?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12300407668?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-center" width="309" height="410"/></a></p>
<p></p> 2015 issues differences between online archive and Australian editiontag:ngscollectors.ning.com,2023-11-18:1029239:Topic:2957632023-11-18T12:50:32.400ZPece Kocovskihttps://ngscollectors.ning.com/profile/PeceKocovski
<p>As per my previous posts (see <a href="https://ngscollectors.ning.com/forum/topics/2021-issues-differences-between-online-archive-and-australian" rel="noopener" target="_blank">here</a> for an example), I will make a posting of all differences I see between the online version, and the physical copies we receive here in Australia. I will focus on 2014 next.</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>2015 December:</strong></p>
<p>-Front cover has text slightly moved around and slightly different.…</p>
<p>As per my previous posts (see <a href="https://ngscollectors.ning.com/forum/topics/2021-issues-differences-between-online-archive-and-australian" target="_blank" rel="noopener">here</a> for an example), I will make a posting of all differences I see between the online version, and the physical copies we receive here in Australia. I will focus on 2014 next.</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>2015 December:</strong></p>
<p>-Front cover has text slightly moved around and slightly different.<a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12293752072?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"></a><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12293878059?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><font color="#000080"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12293878059?profile=RESIZE_710x" width="277" height="352" class="align-center"/></font></a></p>
<p>-Chia Makes Waves page is missing in Australian edition.</p>
<p>-Backyard Universe page is missing.</p>
<p>-Like the 2016 and 2017 edition, on my page of "World Beat" I do not have the "Statement of Ownership, Management, and Monthly Circulation of National Geographic" info. I first noticed this section in my 2018 December issue. Never prior to this. It has been in 2019, 2020, and 2021 December (I assume it will also be in December 2022).</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>2015 November:</strong></p>
<p>-Contents page has a note for the "special poster"</p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12293878087?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12293878087?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-center" width="287" height="217"/></a></p>
<p>-"Credits" page is missing in Australian edition.</p>
<p>-Second "You" page is missing.</p>
<p>-Second "Businesses" page is missing.</p>
<p>-Third "Cities" page is missing.</p>
<p>-"Nations" page is missing.</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>2015 October: </strong></p>
<p>-"Credits" page is missing in Australian edition.</p>
<p>-Is it Billy the Kid? page is missing.</p>
<p>-Faceless Portraits page is missing.</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>2015 September: </strong></p>
<p>-"Credits" page is missing in Australian edition.</p>
<p>-Dogged Pursuit page is missing.</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>2015 August: </strong></p>
<p>-"Credits" page is missing in Australian edition.</p>
<p>-Sex and the Persimmon Tree page is missing.</p>
<p>-The Future of Food, page 3, is missing.</p>
<p>-Living Small page is missing.</p>
<p>-As the World Turns page is missing.</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>2015 July: </strong></p>
<p>-Easy on the Eyes page is missing in Australian edition.</p>
<p>-The Future of Food page is missing.</p>
<p>-Dot Topic page is missing.</p>
<p>-Fancy (Webbed) Footwork page is missing.</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>2015 June: </strong></p>
<p>-Your Shot page 1 (Editor's Choice) and Your Shot page 2 is missing, but Macro World (Your shot page 3) is present from Australian edition.</p>
<p>-Thank you page is missing.</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>2015 May: </strong></p>
<p>-Salt of the Earth page is missing in Australian edition.</p>
<p>-Hot Potatoes page is missing.</p>
<p>-Your Shot Assignment (advertisement?) page is missing.</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>2015 April: </strong></p>
<p>-Front cover of the Hubble at 25 (like the UK issue), identical except there is no barcode.</p>
<p>-Contents page has different image and text different due to this:</p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12293878680?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12293878680?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-center" width="307" height="408"/></a>-"Credits" page is missing in Australian edition.</p>
<p>-A Mural's New Date page is missing.</p>
<p>-The Future of Food page is missing.</p>
<p>-Pointing the Way page is missing.</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>2015 March: </strong></p>
<p>-Scenes From a Synagogue page is missing in Australian edition.</p>
<p>-Your Shot Page 1 and 2 missing.</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>2015 February: </strong></p>
<p>-In Angkor Wat, Art Revealed page is missing in Australian edition.</p>
<p></p>
<p></p>
<p><b>2015 January:</b></p>
<p>-Front cover online is different from my physical copy:</p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12293882857?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12293882857?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-center" width="267" height="354"/></a></p>
<p>-Due to the cover being different, the "On The Cover' wording on the contents page is different:</p>
<p></p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12293884283?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12293884283?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-center" width="320" height="241"/></a></p>
<p>-First Drive Delayed page is missing in Australian edition.</p> 2016 issues differences between online archive and Australian editiontag:ngscollectors.ning.com,2023-11-09:1029239:Topic:2955482023-11-09T12:09:53.550ZPece Kocovskihttps://ngscollectors.ning.com/profile/PeceKocovski
<p></p>
<div class="xg_headline xg_headline-img xg_headline-2l"><div class="tb">After some delay, I managed to find some time and compare my issues with the online archive. As per my previous posts (see <a href="http://ngscollectors.ning.com/forum/topics/2021-issues-differences-between-online-archive-and-australian" rel="noopener" target="_blank">here</a> for an example), I will make a posting of all differences I see between the online version, and the physical copies we receive here in…</div>
</div>
<p></p>
<div class="xg_headline xg_headline-img xg_headline-2l"><div class="tb">After some delay, I managed to find some time and compare my issues with the online archive. As per my previous posts (see <a href="http://ngscollectors.ning.com/forum/topics/2021-issues-differences-between-online-archive-and-australian" target="_blank" rel="noopener">here</a> for an example), I will make a posting of all differences I see between the online version, and the physical copies we receive here in Australia. I will focus on 2015 next.</div>
<div class="tb"></div>
</div>
<div class="xg_module_body"><div class="discussion"><div class="description"><div class="xg_user_generated"><p><strong>2016 December:</strong></p>
<p>-"Credits" page is missing in Australian edition (as you will see, is the case for all except June!).</p>
<p>-"A sleighful of Santas, surveyed" page is missing.</p>
<p>-Like the 2017 edition, on my page of "World Beat" I do not have the "Statement of Ownership, Management, and Monthly Circulation of National Geographic" info. I first noticed this section in my 2018 December issue. Never prior to this. It has been in 2019, 2020, and 2021 December (I assume it will also be in December 2022).</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>2016 November:</strong></p>
<p>-Front cover different to online edition (says Free Poster at the top).</p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12286211469?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12286211469?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-center" width="240" height="319"/></a></p>
<p>-"Credits" page is missing in Australian edition.</p>
<p>-"Sahara's Coolest Ants" page is missing.</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>2016 October: </strong></p>
<p>-Front cover is "The New Europeans" story as opposed to the Selfie Generation one.</p>
<p>-"Credits" page is missing in Australian edition.</p>
<p>-"Echoes of Pompeii Found in Frange" page missing.</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>2016 September: </strong></p>
<p>-Front cover identical save for a small change in top right hand corner of text. Text is "Lost Empire of the Maya" instead of the TV guide message.</p>
<p>-"Credits" page is missing in Australian edition.</p>
<p>-"Small Cats" page is missing.</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>2016 August: </strong></p>
<p>-Front cover identical save for the text on the top left hand corner. It is missing in the Australian edition.</p>
<p>-"Credits" page is missing in Australian edition.</p>
<p>-"Reflection" page is missing.</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>2016 July: </strong></p>
<p>-"Credits" page is missing in Australian edition.</p>
<p>-"Urban Wildlife" of "YourShot" page is missing and is repalced by a "Celebrations" YourShot page:</p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12287564664?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12287564664?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-center" width="292" height="387"/></a></p>
<p></p>
<p>One of the first time I feel like an Australian edition has something not present in the online Archive (I wonder if this is present in the physical non Australian copies?)!</p>
<p>-"The World in 1550" spread missing.</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>2016 June: </strong></p>
<p>-Urban planning page missing from Australian edition.</p>
<p>-Thank you page missing (interestingly, the credits page is present here!)</p>
<p></p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>2016 May: </strong></p>
<p></p>
<p>-"Credits" page is missing in Australian edition.</p>
<p>-Visits Rise, Profitably pages missing.</p>
<p>-The Best in Yellowstone page missing.</p>
<p>-Planet Earth - 10 Best Everything page missing.</p>
<p>-Planet Earth - Trail Mix page missing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><strong>2016 April: </strong></p>
<p>-Front cover of the Black and White Lemur in my issue. I have never seen any of the other 9 covers in the Australian wild so to speak.</p>
<p>-"Credits" page is missing in Australian edition.</p>
<p>-A Plant That Preys page is missing.</p>
<p>-As the Trash Turns page is missing.</p>
<p>-93 Days of Spring has additional pages in the Australian copy. I am not sure if the online edition accidentally ommitted these pages indicating day 1 to day 93 (6 pages in total, 2 short regular sizes, 4 long/extended). Example page shown below:</p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12289064664?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12289064664?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-center" width="367" height="277"/></a></p>
<p></p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>2016 March: </strong></p>
<p>-Cover like the newstand version without barcode.</p>
<p>-"Credits" page is missing in Australian edition.</p>
<p>-Crop Diversity page missing.</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>2016 February: </strong></p>
<p>-"Credits" page is missing in Australian edition.</p>
<p>-Planet Earth: Parks page missing.</p>
<p>-Catch a Tiger by the App pages missing.<br/><br/></p>
<p><b>2016 January:</b></p>
<p>-Front cover online is different from my physical copy: "Why we need wild" vs. "The Power Of Parks A yearlong celebration of our common ground". Alll other text identical. As such, on contents page, "On the cover" legend is different based on what the cover looks like. And of course, both images present in the story within this issue.</p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12289069690?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12289069690?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-center" width="216" height="287"/></a></p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12289070074?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/12289070074?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-center" width="273" height="206"/></a></p>
<p>-"Credits" page is missing in Australian edition.</p>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div> NatGeo at WorldCon in Chengdu, Chinatag:ngscollectors.ning.com,2023-10-30:1029239:Topic:2952522023-10-30T22:12:56.797ZRichard Kennedyhttps://ngscollectors.ning.com/profile/kennedyrt
<div>Worldcon (<a href="https://www.worldcon.org/">https://www.worldcon.org/</a>), or more formally the World Science Fiction Convention, is the annual convention of the World Science Fiction Society. It has been held each year since 1939 (except for the years 1942 to 1945, during World War II). The annual Hugo Awards (<a href="https://www.thehugoawards.org/">https://www.thehugoawards.org/</a>) are presented at each convention.</div>
<div>The 2023 Worldcon was held in Chengdu, China. National…</div>
<div>Worldcon (<a href="https://www.worldcon.org/">https://www.worldcon.org/</a>), or more formally the World Science Fiction Convention, is the annual convention of the World Science Fiction Society. It has been held each year since 1939 (except for the years 1942 to 1945, during World War II). The annual Hugo Awards (<a href="https://www.thehugoawards.org/">https://www.thehugoawards.org/</a>) are presented at each convention.</div>
<div>The 2023 Worldcon was held in Chengdu, China. National Geographic participated at this convention. Please see the attached photos.</div>