44 AMERICAN GAME FISHES. 



auction. Here, indeed, is the center and goal of every known 

 angler's ambition; for not only do the nobility of England 

 wet their lines in these choice waters, but here is the most 

 aristocratic fishing-club in the world, whose shares are worth 

 $4, 500 to own, and whose annual dues and expenses for the 

 season bring up the cost of the fishing privilege to a figure 

 which only the wealthy can reach; and to "knock the persim- 

 mon," the pole must be not only superlatively long, but socially 

 gilded and mounted. 



I could tell many stories of the Restigouche, reaching well 

 back to ancient annals, some of which are absolutely ghostly. 

 For instance, some twenty years ago there plied upon the 

 river a wondrous craft, whose cognomen was "Great Caesar's 

 Ghost," fitted up with amplitude of cabin, kitchen, and prom- 

 enade deck, and drawn by horses, which plashed and flound- 

 ered up the long reaches of the river, alternately taking to the 

 bed and the banks, as the straits and exigencies of the route 

 required. Her owner, Mr. C. J. Bridges, whilom manager 

 of the Grand Trunk Railway, took many a distinguished 

 party with him on his annual excursions, but finally he betook 

 himself to Manitoba for speculative purposes, and I am not 

 aware that even a wreck of the ghost remains. However, 

 in its life it was the most material ghost it has ever been my 

 fortune to encounter. 



I renumber, too, another incident. It germinated in our 

 atmosphere of royalty. Once we were apt to associate fish 

 with billingsgate and bad smells. In the Old World we 

 know that the chase alone enlisted the royal favor. From 

 time immemorial hunting was regarded as a regal sport, and 

 in some dominions it was the exclusive prerogative of kings. 

 Doubtless, in ancient time, the royal retinue, with its gor- 

 geous trappings and blare of trumpets, swept haughtily past 

 the solitary angler by the quiet river-side, scarcely deigning 

 him a thought, or even a sneer. Certainly enough, all the pre- 

 cepts of Bishop Sanderson, and the philosophy of Walton and 



