456 Striped Bass. 



the bait still on and a bit of the line attached, we identify as our 

 property, which he feloniously purloined and converted to his own 

 use this morning ; the others, of strange make and corroded by the 

 strong gastric juices, are evidently much older acquisitions. 



But the bass have ceased biting ; our stock of bait is reduced to a 

 few shreds and patches, and the inner man calls loudly for repairs, so 

 our chummer starts on ahead with the heavy load of fish, while we 

 linger for a few minutes at the light-house, built on the rising ground 

 between the lake and the sea, to have a chat with the keeper. 



Truly, this is classic ground. Lying almost within a stone's- 

 throw of us, snugly nestled in the bosom of the black-bass pond, is 

 the little island called after Bartholomew Gosnold, that mighty navi- 

 gator whose name has come down to us in a blaze of posthumous 

 glory as the discoverer of Cape Cod. 



In the year 1602, eighteen years before the founding of the 

 Plymouth colony, Gosnold built a store-house and began a fort on 

 this islet and did some trading with the Indians. That he had but 

 little faith in their friendliness is evidenced by his building his strong- 

 hold on this island within an island, and in fact history gives the 

 aboriginal natives of Cuttyhunk but a sorry character as neighbors. 

 Dr. Belknap visited the island in 1797, and discovered what he sup- 

 posed to be the remains of the cellar of Gosnold's store-house, where- 

 upon a later historian breaks forth in this wise : " It is a vestige 

 of the first work performed by Europeans on the New England 

 shores. Here they first penetrated the earth ; here the first edifice 

 was erected. Only two centuries have passed away, and from this 

 humble beginning have arisen cities, numerous, large, and fair, in 

 which are enjoyed all the refined delights of civilization." 



The first duty of your chummer, on returning from the stand, is 

 to see that the bass are weighed on a pair of scales hanging at the 

 corner of the piazza. This is done in the presence of two members 

 of the club, to avoid — mistakes, the result being entered on a blank 

 slip, which is retained u ttil evening, when the score of each member 

 for the whole day is duly entered opposite his name on the records. 

 Our score for the morning's work shows three bass, weighing 

 eighteen and one-half, sixteen and one-half, and nine pounds. 

 Glancing over the leaves of the record-book, we find some interest- 

 ing items, which we copy — premising that the season in each year 



