THE GAME FISHES OF THE WOELD 



always a compensation whether the fish are biting or not. My 

 favourite day's fishing was down the river from Westminster 

 Park, where the Inn stood in a field of white daisies, to Grenadier 

 Island, completely around it. By noon we would have six 

 or eight fish, then went ashore, by appointment meeting some 

 friend or friends, where our several boatmen would broil bass 

 and yellow perch, and serve us a luncheon so fit for the gods 

 that I doubt not the envious shade of Lucullus was flitting about 

 among the trees. Sometimes we cast into Canada, then we were 

 back in American waters in a few moments. Often we hugged 

 the Canadian shore, or wandered on among the islands ; or again 

 kept to the channel where the water was swift, and where big, 

 wolf-like muscallunge, or wall-eyed pike, were supposed to he. 

 Not only was the angling delightful here, but the sweet, balmy 

 air was like velvet, and possessed a quality peculiarly life and 

 vigour-giving. 



The fishing here is entirely from boats, though on certain 

 islands one can cast from the rocks or shore. But the bass are 

 so widely distributed that this is not productive. This angUng 

 has produced, in the course of slow evolution, a boat pecuharly 

 adapted to the needs and requirements of the case : a long, low, 

 light craft, which has become known as the St. Lawrence skiff. 

 She is often built of cedar and copper-fastened, low and swift, and 

 of graceful lines. In the stern, and facing it, one behind the other, 

 are two comfortable cane-seated chairs, the legs cut off and the 

 seat placed on the seat of the boat. Here the anglers sit, one rod 

 to the right, the other to the left. The oarsman is just behind the 

 anglers, and his arrangements are a study in economics. Beneath 

 his seat is a drawer lined with metal to hold the fish. His fiies, 

 rods, nets and tackle of various sorts are at hand. The boat 

 is immaculate to correspond with the bass, which is esthetic, 

 and the bass flies a joy forever. 



So much for the boat and the boatman with his long, light 

 spoon oars, but what about the tackle ? I have a longing desire 

 to take issue with the good but misguided men who invented 

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