THE GRAYLING. 



BY 



FRED MATHER. 



The very name of my beloved fish calls up a host of 

 recollections that form themselves into a picture that, 

 above all others, is the most cheerful one adorning 

 memory's wall. We old fellows live largely in the past, 

 and can afford to let younger men revel in the future ; 

 and in my own case, I can say that, having filled 

 Shakespeare's apothegm of " one man in his time 

 plays many parts," there are often retrospects of life as 

 a boyish angler, an older hunter, trapper, and general 

 vagabond on the frontiers ; a soldier ; and a later return 

 to a first love. Of these glances over the shoulder of 

 time, a few trips to Northern Michigan and its grayling 

 streams mark the journey of life with a white stone. 



When Prof. Cope announced, in 1865, that he had 

 received specimens from Michigan, the English anglers 

 in America were incredulous, and there was some spicy 

 correspondence, in the sportsmen's papers of those days, 

 concerning the identity of the fishes. As usual, the 

 scientist discomfited the angler, and proved his position. 

 The fish had long been known to the raftsmen and na- 

 tives of Michigan by local names, but had never been 



