104 



The American Angler 



Canon of Spokane River. 



[See Frontispiece.] 



The Spokane River has its source in Coeur 

 d' Alene Lake, Idaho. From the northern end 

 of the lake, the river flows nearly due west 

 about thirty miles to the city of Spokane, when 

 it turns to the northwest and flows into the 

 Columbia. Its total length is about 125 miles, 

 and its course is extremely winding. For a 

 considerable part of its course it flows through 

 vast fields of lava, into which it has cut a deep 

 and picturesque channel. Salmon find no ob- 

 structions in the lower river and ascend as far 

 as the Falls at Spokane City, where they were 

 formerly very abundant, but are now seldom 

 seen farther up than the mouth of the Little 

 Spokane. 



A Young Fisher, Uncle Jake, and the 

 Sockdolager. 



It was back in the forties when the incidents 

 herein related took place. I was living in 

 Montgomery County, Maryland, not far from 

 Washington, and had just received returns from 

 the sale, in the latter city, of two barrels of 

 fine apple vinegar at forty cents a gallon, and 

 had sold at good figures my dogwood blocks to 

 the last makers in Baltimore, and to say that 

 I felt rich does not come within a mile of de- 

 scribing my wealth. I had money enough to 

 buy a very good horse, at the present prices 

 of that animal. 



With my money in my buckskin purse, I 

 went to the store for the letters, and in the 

 mail which I was to carry home was a letter 

 for me, and on opening it I found five drops of 

 red sealing wax, and in each drop was buried 

 a gold dollar. This was my spending money, 

 and I immediately invested seventy-five cents 

 in a sockdolager (or spring hook, as it is now 

 called) which had been my admiration for the 

 past week. 



The sockdolager was composed of two hooks, 

 as finely wrought as the best Sproat (the spring 

 hooks of to-day are of poor material), and was 

 worked by raising the top hook and fastening 

 it to a loop which was attached to a special 

 spring coiled round the shank of the bottom 

 hook. The fish taking bait from the bottom 

 one released the other, and down it would 

 come on his head or mouth, which would give 

 the angler two chances at him. Next to a fine 

 bridle bit, I thought it was the finest thing I 

 ever possessed. 



The next day was Saturday — the biggest day 

 in all Christendom to a schoolboy. Sunday 

 was a mighty good day, but wasn't a patch to 

 it ; it was too close to Monday. On arriving at 

 home, I ran my lead-colored line through a 

 bottle cork with a large needle and fastened 

 on my new fishing machine, and then dropped 

 it in the rain barrel at the corner of the house, 

 and to my great delight it floated. I had made 

 a good guess in the size of my cork. Next day 

 by seven in the morning I was on my way to 

 the fishing ground, but was obliged to stop 

 and consult my old colored friend, Jacob 

 Hardesty, about the kind of bait I must use, 

 and to show him my new purchase. He was 

 working in his garden but soon caught sight 

 of me. 



" Gwine fishin', is you?" 



" Yes, Uncle Jacob, and I've something ta 

 show you." 



" Fine day for 'em, to be sure 'tis, very fine 

 day (and he put his forefinger in his mouth and 

 held it up to the breeze); and de win' in de 

 south, too ! Well, chile, when de win' is de 

 south hit blows de hook in his mouth, and 

 don't you never forgit dat ! And when de 

 win' is in de eas', de fish bites de leas'. But 

 you was a sayin' you had somethin' to show 

 me, and I forgot my monners, chile." 



I handed him my sockdolager. He took it 

 between his forefinger and thumb, held it up 

 to the sun, turned it upside down, and then 

 laid it in the flat of his hand, looked at it side- 

 ways and handed it back to me. 



"And what mout that thing be, do you 

 reckon ?" 



"It is a sockdolager ;" and I raised the top 

 hook and set it, touched the bottom one with a 

 stick, and down came the top one fast in it. 



" Ha! dat trap takes him cumin', and I 'lows 

 dat hit kills him gwine, becase dat top hook 

 overlaps tother one 'bout half inch. Aint dat 

 so, chile ?" 



" Yes, Uncle Jake, that must be so, and you 

 have told me more about that hook than I had 

 any idea of." 



"What did you fling in for hit, chile? 

 Seventy-five cents ! Seventy-five cents ! my, 

 dat's a day's work ! Hits a pretty fish trap, to 

 be certain, but 'taint worth more'n twenty." 



" But what must I bait with? That's what 

 is bothering me. Uncle Jake." 



He rubbed his face over with his hand (as if 

 to brighten his ideas), thought a moment, and 

 said, " I've got hit in the hous." He brought 



