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THE AMERICAN SPORTSMAN'S JOURNAL. 



NEW YORK THURSDAY, OCTOBER 10, 1878. 



SUNSET ON THE BEARCAMP, 



SLOW fades the vlstou of the sfcy, 

 The golden water piles, 

 And over all the valley-laud 



A gray-winged vapor vails. 

 I go the common wny of all ; 



The sunset fires will burn, 

 The flowers will hlow, the river now, 



When I uo more return. 

 l$o whisper from the mountain pine 



Nor lapsing stream shall tell 

 The stranger, treading where I tread, 



01 him who loved them well. 



But beauty seen ia never lost, 



God's colors are all fast ; 

 The glory ot this sunset heaven 



Into my sonl has passed,— 

 A gense of gladness nuconuned 



To mortal date or clime ; 

 As the soul Ilveth, It shall live 



Beyond the years of time. 

 Beside the mystic asphodels 



Shall oloom the home-born flowers, 

 And new horizons flush and glow 



With annsot hues of ours. 

 Farewell ! these smiling hills must wear 



Too soon their wintry frown, 

 And enow-cold winds from off them shake 



The maple's red leaves down. 

 But 1 shall see a summer tun 



Still setting broad and low ; 

 The mountain slopes shall blush and bloom, 



The golden water flow. 

 A lovei's claim is mine on all 



I see to have and hold,— 

 The rose-light of perpetual hills, 



And sunsets never cold ! 



— From WiHHers Seio Volume. 



For Forest and Stream and Hod and Gun. 



i§h U gshnd. 



Gbkat Sodus BAv. 



HAVE you ever watched some old painting, realizing new 

 beauties eacli moment, the small, unlooked-for things 

 as they steal out, hidden tints, beautiful thoughts expressed 

 on the canvas? Or a beautiful gem in a plain setting, with 

 the scintillations of color— golden, emerald, ruby and crimson ; 

 or, the peer of all, the bright, sparkling, dazzling diamond ? 

 If so, and you love the beautiful in nature as well as in art 

 and precious gems, come to our " Little Island," now robed 

 in her summer and autumn dress. 



Over to the west, Sand Point (now dotted over with the 

 white tents of campers) like au index finger, stretches out 

 three-fourths of a mile toward the island. To the north and 

 west stands Charles Point, seutinel of the harbor, while the 

 "bar," along, narrow beach between the bay and the lake, 

 runs away for a mile to the east, till it joins the mainland on 

 the eastern shore of the " Bluff." 

 Shooting ducks over decoys (or "coys," as they are here called) 

 presents the very extremes of disgust aad satisfaction. One 

 moment you are thoroughly disgusted, for have you not 

 waited for hours with patience and forbearance, in a cramped 

 position, while the rain pelts and a stiff nor' wester chills you 

 through and through, carefully scanning every point of the 

 compass for the longed-for flight of ducks, while your decoys 

 float and nod to one another, yet not a duck to be seen. But, 

 presto ! change '. perhaps the gale brought them. "We know 

 not ; neither do we care ; there they arc, hovering over the 

 decoys — heads thrown forward, wings "tipped " and extended, 

 fifteen or twenty red heads, all in a bunch — what a sight ! 

 Does not the blood go coursing to the extremities like a mill- 

 race ? One moment, now, like Roderick Dliu, in Trosach 

 Glen were worth a thousand of the tamo ones of common, 

 everyday business life. See them "come to," like a vessel in 

 the gale, "head to the wind." Now two guns— four barrels— 

 to the right and left belch forth fire and No. 4 and shot. See 

 them tumble .- some go heels over head, andslrike water spat; 

 others shy and spin, and when they teach the water dive to 

 escape. There a proud-crtsled diake comes down with an air 

 of disdaiu, as though he was alighting for feed, nods to the 

 decoys, turns on his back and paddles in the a;r. This is but 

 an introduction to the fun, and what bad been a cold, dreary 

 beach, with the sullen roar of Ontario's surf at our back, In- 

 comes the most enticing place imaginable, as one flight alltr 

 another comes down to the decoys. 



The " Bluff," whose precipitous sides rise one hundred and 

 fifty feet above the water of the lake, gives an extended and 

 delightful view of lake and bay. Here, each year, large camp 

 meetings ate held, and usually after the discontinuance of the 

 meetings the ground is occupied by those who come here to 

 " camp out," and enjoy primitive life in tents. 



With a grove of noble old maple sand beeches above and 

 around them ; the ever-changing panorama of the lake dotted 

 with sails and steamers; the waters of the bay, wilh Islay, 

 ArranandBule nestled on its bosom ; the pure, dry bracing 

 air, as it steals soflly among the trees, brings pleasure to the 

 strong, and bolh pleasure and strength to the feeble. 



Great Sodus Bay is five, miles in length from north and west 

 to south and east, about three miles in width, with undulating 

 shores. To the west lies the little sleepy, dreamy hamlet of 

 Sodus Point, with the great stone light-house on the hill ; 

 south and east a farm now and then dots the landscape, but it 

 is mostly clothed with chestnut groves, except Thornton's 

 Point and Briscoe's Cove, where the fragrance of pine and 

 hemlock is wafted far out on the waters of the bay. This is 

 somewhat of the setting, but the gem itself consists of but 

 twenty-two acres covered wilh beech, maple, and here and 

 there a pine or hemlock. What a few years ago was a dense 

 wood, an unbroken forest, to-day is a charming grove, where 

 lake or land breeze is felt from one shore of the Isle to the 

 other, while the fierce rays of a July sun are shut out by the 

 green canopy overhead. 



The west bank is bold and steep and bluff, extending but 

 a cold welcome to the water, twenty or thirty feet below. 



The north point is covered with rocks and boulders, and 

 both bank and point would savor of aristocratic and exclusive 

 owners were it not for the friendly landings running out into 

 the water, and the easy flights of step3 leading down to the 

 water's edge. The east shore, with gentle slope, extending 

 in a semicircle, holds within its embrace a small, sheltered 

 bay, and here at early dawn the gray clouds change their 

 tints to amber, to crimson, to rosy red, to flaming liquid gold 

 as the east flashes brighter and brighter, until at length the 

 summer sun rushes up over the east shore of the bay, driving 

 away the thin mists that enshrouded Arran and Bute. 



The great bald eagle is already soaring away in circles to- 

 ward the sun, but with eye as keen for game as that of any 

 other sportsmau, for his eyrie is in a great dry oak at Chim- 

 ney Bluff. The sea-gulls are also on the wing. Some are of 

 dazzling whiteness, while others are white with wings of the 

 most delicate lilac. A great night-heron has shaken the dew 

 from his wings and seeks to escape the light of day, finding 

 shelter in some swamp far inland. 



All along the shore are evidences of the employment of the 

 dwellers on the island. A "minnow car" anchored a little 

 way from shore, trolling-lines stretched out to dry, poles of 

 all descriptions, and landing-nets, while in the morning sun 

 you catch the sparkle of brass, silver or gold spoon-hook as it 

 is suspended from some limb ready for the owners use. The 

 small yacht Islay, sloop-rigged but without jib or staysail, 

 rides at anchor a cable length from shore, her white sideB and 

 red wale gleaming iu the sunshine; while a dozen rods away a 

 long, rakish-looking cralt, with its great white mainsail, stay- 

 sail and jib already hoisted, its boom lashed to the stern and 

 halliard apeak, above the cross-trees a top-sail also shaken out, 

 lies the lied Hot, chafing under the little breeze that comes 

 over the tree tops. 



From the main shore, from bluff and island, fishing boats 

 are putting out, some to troll for pike, pickerel or bass, with 

 spoons or gangs ; others to "still-fish" from anchored boat 

 with "rod and reel," with minnow or other bait. Here is a 

 boat in charge of an experienced oarsman, filled with young 

 children, five or six of them, all trying to fish, all shouting, 

 all filled with joy and gladness. There is another with three 

 ladies in it, one rowing the others trolling. This morning 

 exercise, the tonic of the lake breeze tinges their cheeks with 

 a healthy color, and if you catch the sparkle of their eyes you 

 will not want evidence of their: enjoyment. Yonder is the 

 boat of an old sportsman (sportsman in the higher and nobler 

 sense of the word, for from just such scenes as these he is 

 filled with the best of inspiration) who, with wife and oars- 

 man, is intent on making a catch that will supply their table. 

 Intelligently he goes to work. Already he has selected a gold 

 spoon, the day being bright, and his boatman with a slow, 

 steady, even ptdl at his oars that keeps the spoon revolving at 

 just the right depth, takes a course just outside that long bank 

 of weeds. Pull well does he know the nature and habits of 

 the fish for which he " goes-a-fishing." The pickerel builds 

 for himself a home or rather a hiding-place, where, secluded 

 and sheltered by the weeds about him, he waits, cat-like, for 

 his prey. When it comes along, be it frog, snake, toad, mouse, 

 spoon-hook or minnow, with a spring he darts upon it. If 

 he misses he may strike a second time, but generally returns 

 to his old lair. 



It is not hard to tell the "luck" of the neat boat passing 

 now. The spoon drags the top of the water not, more than 

 twenty -five feet from the boat; the oars, lifted from the 

 water, seem waiting to eateh the: words the lady is sp< aking. 

 Fishing '! No. An artist would draw the picture, with the 

 trolling line and spoon left out and one seated beside the 

 other, slowly floating down the stream— yes, " floating for 

 deai." 



To the north and west of Islay is the channel, coming in 

 between the piers to the harbor and out to the open bay. 

 The chaunel is deep and its sides abrupt, and along the*' 



banks at the. right time are many- boats having royal sport. 

 Black bass in large numbers inhabit these, grounds, "and hera 

 you will meet with all the incidents and excitement attending 

 the capture of these, among the most "gamy" fish. Some 

 persons fish with live minnows, others with fly-pole and flies, 

 while others, with a long trolling-line, gut leader, three fair- 

 si/i'd " white millers" and a "red ibis," drop from a heavy 

 trolliug-pole. But, like speckled trout, black bass are variable 

 in their moods ; sometimes a good basket is the result of the 

 sportsman's labors, sometimes otherwise. 



Thronged as Great Sodus Bay is in summer with those who 

 fish, hunt, row or sail, singular incidents sometimes happen; 

 seldom an accident, but of len ludicrous scenes in the extreme. 

 One evening perhaps thirty boats were on the water, the oc- 

 cupants intent on their several diversions. The evening sun 

 just setting in a great bank of crimson and gold, the lake 

 covered with a mist tinged with the rays of the sotting sun; 

 the vessels on the lake, scarcely discernible, looking like 

 phantom masts, spars and sails, when all were startled by 

 screams and yells, loud and prolonged, coming from one of 

 the boats containing three ladles. Of course every boat 

 within hearing hurried forward to offer assistance. The ladies 

 had been quietly fishing, unattended by gentlemen, as they 

 often do here. Now, an auburn-haired girl stood on the stem 

 seat, hands extended as ; f appealing for help, face the picture 

 of fear and dread, while a handsome brunette, with sable 

 plume and gipsy hat, her face blanched with fear, stands bal- 

 ancing herself on the narrow bow, as If she had always been a 

 professional rope-waker. Amid the boat is a lady of more 

 mature years, who is perhaps the mother of the dark-eyed 

 girl at the bow. She, too, is standing erect on the middle seat, 

 desperation marked on her countenance, while with a vise- 

 like grip she gathers her skirts about her. 



In the bottom of the boat, squirming, wriggling, twisting, 

 rushing from one end of the boat to the other, with the. line 

 attached, is a huge eel, the unconscious cause of all this con- 

 sternation among the trio. Of course there was a gallant rush 

 to the rescue, and the young men slew the eel as royally as 

 Perseus rescued Andromeda. 



Again, it is very singular what some fish live upon. Last 

 year an old sportsman (not in years, but in deeds)— one who 

 loves the rod and reel, who, from the sand-liars of Florida to 

 the rugged banks of Anticosti. from the. south shore of the 

 great lake to the valley of (lie Yosemite, has cast the fly and 

 pulled the trigger— came to the island for rest and recreation. 

 At last his UBtial good luck seemed to have deserted him, and 

 day in and day out but moderate success attended his best ef- 

 forts. At length upon the last day of his stay an enormous 

 pickerel was safely landed and exhibited to his admiring 

 friends ; but he presented an unusual appearance of having 

 gorged himself with some hard, indigestible substance. And 

 sure enough, in dressing, the boatman took from the fish a 

 stone weighing a pound or two. 



Islay Island is owned by five gentlemen, three of whom 

 have erected cottages of ample and convenient proportions 

 and pleasing architectural design, wilh all the surroundings to 

 make their summer sojourn here comfortable and delightful. 

 The other two owners, while they have as attractive surround- 

 ings, content themselves for the present wilh large wall tents, 

 spread over a permanent foundation and divided into conven- 

 ient apartments. 



To some of these gentlemen their friends are under obliga- 

 tions of no small amount, for they have been the recipients of 

 their hospitality in the hunting and fishing seasons. You can 

 scarcely imagine a place more comfortable, or a better locality 

 for duck shooting in the spring and fall. 



By the side of one of these cottages stands a giant oak, so 

 tall that it towers above all the surrounding forest, a land- 

 mark for the country ; but its base is charred by fire and part 

 of the immense trunk burned away. Old residents say there 

 is a legend of a beautiful Indian maiden and the death of her 

 lover connected with this scar on the old oak. Some time we 

 will try to tell the story as told to us by one who had it from 

 his guide, a Chippewa Indian, on the shore of Lake Superior. 



f 



Far Forest and Stream and Rod and Gun. 

 MAROONING— No. 2. 



IN your issue of Sept. 25th, under the heading of " Sport ia 

 Louisiana," you remark, "Before many weeks have passed 

 scores of sportsmen will have turned their faces southward, 

 some who have "done" Florida to seek new fields of con- 

 quests. Now I would Jike to meet the man who has "done " 

 Florida. I admit that some sportsmen have done the St. 

 John and Indian Rivers and Homosassa ; but how many, if 

 any, have visited I he southern portion of the Slate, where man's 

 foot has not been heard since the last Indian war, where game 

 exists in unlimited quantity? In the southern purl ion of the 

 State to the eastward of the Ctiloosahatchie, west of the At- 

 lantic and south of Lake Ochechobee, there exists an extensive 

 and interesting section, well supplied with game, and which 

 is totally unkuown to sportsmen, and which I shall briefly 

 refer to. 



Some months since I commenced the preparation of sever- 

 al brief articles regarding that terra incognita, between Capo 

 Sable and PuntaKossa, Florida. My firsi comnnuiicntinn was 

 published in your columns (Vol. X., p. 133). but sickneis in 

 family, and afterward sickners of self, prevented mc from con- 



