88 MEN I HAVE FISHED WITH. 



cutt and Abram Lansing, of Albany, N. Y., two skilled 

 and accomplished salmon anglers, learned in all the in- 

 tricate lore of that grand art; but it can hardly be possible 

 that Colonel Raymond, lacking, as he is, in that virtue of 

 patience which alone bears good results to the angler, can 

 profit by their precepts and example; yet he occasionally 

 sends a fine salmon to a friend, and as Colonel Olcutt and 

 Mr. Lansing both say that he actually catches them, I am 

 certain that he does ; and the fact that there are no bullet 

 holes in them proves that his Jock-Scott, silver-doctor, or 

 other combination of hair, fur, feathers and steel can be 

 cast by my friend with occasional effect. 



Later, in November, and on the ducking shore, it is 

 different. Then the gallant Colonel is himself again, and 

 no doubt returns the compliment to his friends of Camp 

 Albany and sets them a pace which may worry them to 

 follow. Shooting from a blind, over decoys that truly 

 Presidential sport, the great delight of the sportsman of 

 or past middle age, when the long tramp over hill and 

 through marsh after pointer or setter seems now to re- 

 quire more exertion than it did in youth has a fascina- 

 tion for Mr. Raymond, and a better appointed shooting- 

 box than his at San Domingo, on the Gunpowder River, 

 I fancy would be hard to find; and few, indeed, are the 

 places where better sport has been found. But duck 

 shooting, like all other earthly joys, must have its day and 

 fade away. Each year the ducks are fewer and their 

 flights further between, so that ere many more years in 

 their turn shall have flown the canvasbacks and redheads 

 will have gone to join the once countless flocks of passen- 

 ger pigeons and the innumerable caravans of the bisons, 

 "and the places that knew them," throughout our broad 

 land, from Alaska to Florida, "shall know them no more 

 forever." 



