Terms, Five Dallam a Year. 
Ten CentH a Copy. 
NEW YORK, THURSDAY, MAY 18, 1876. 1 IT Chatham St!(CityHall8qr.) 
J '"Slim in Main 
For Forest and Stream. 
*Fai*cy ne'er painted to the boob of Bong 
Scenes to which more of jmtnre’e charma belong'.” 
—Nova Scotia's poet statesman, Ilowe. 
4 t the Roulliern. end of the peninsula of Nova Beotia 
there is a locality abounding in flue trout streams 
ut little known to our anglers. Having scon mention in 
Jour paper of tbe Tusket River as the best for trout in the 
lilted States, I determined last May to visit the land of 
ie Mayflower. Leaving Boston at noon on Tuesday by 
ie steamer Dominion, we reached Yarmouth on Lhe fol¬ 
ding day about 4 P. M. It is a town of 8,000 inluibitants, 
as flue schooMiouses, and some beautiful private residen- 
The Customs officers were obliging, and passed all 
ar traps without delay and formalities. Thursday was 
iButiu buying supplies, the numerous groceries having 
i excellent variety, and in seeking information about the 
thing grounds. A map of the county of Yarmouth 
lowed a large area of lakes scattered over its surface, 
id. the Tusket divided into numerous branches forming 
1 intricate net work of rivers. The main river flows into 
®l salt water at Tusket, nine miles from Yarmouth, and 
[yUugh its whole extent trout were said to be plenty, Sal¬ 
on trout and salmon outer the river as early as April, and 
m be taken with the fly in May and June. The angler’s 
Jiin dependence there is the common brown or brook 
out, which ive were told were most abundant near the 
f&dwaters. Learning that K'emptville was the best point 
departure on the river, everything was put in readiness 
r an early start next morning. My cande was securely 
tapped on an express wagon, with tent and luggage snug- 
stowed inside. Friday morning we were oil for Kempt, 
ite birds were singing gaily in the sunshine, the Toads 
lod, and as a fine roadster from one of the livery stables 
iwled us along rapidly, the driver remarked that every- 
jing was “hunky," The route we took was via Tusket— 
> e lougest, but the charming bits of scenery we met with 
jde it all the better for the greater distance. After pass- 
15 through the beautiful village of Tusket, the way lies 
•ough the forest, uot only of “the murmuring pines aud 
hemlocks," but of many other deciduous and evergreen 
ie3 which grow side by side and mingle their foliage in 
lasing variety. The road affords frequent views of lakes 
tl river, and often was I tempted to stop aud try some 
those inviting casts where every angler “knows there 
rst be good fish.” We reached Prosser’s, our deatina- 
ta-, at noon, found they had word of our coming and 
mer ready, Mr. and Mrs. P. assisted at serving, aud 
• honest old fellow’s humor and the banter of his wife 
a ft highly amusing. This worthy pair are an interesting 
)dy. The writer can only say that the sportsman can 
where find more hospitable, kindly people than they, 
op, sitting on the kitchen doorstep, I took in with the 
oke from my pipe the noble view it commands. In 
iut, the broad expanse of Pearl’s Lako sparkled in the 
isbine, and beyond, scintillating like a star, the far-off 
Sver Lake lay half hidden in the forest, whose extreme 
fits seemed to support a mass of glorious summer 
uds. To the right, a flue growth of hard wood encircled 
lake, concealing the exit of the river, which, on the 
winding through the distant meadows, beneath a long 
flge, ran swiftly in. 
Hager for Bport, I questioned Mr. Prosser as to the near- 
fishing, and he induced a neighboring shoemaker to 
e me down the lake in a punt to the first rapids on the 
er, about half a mile away. Rounding a point we found 
fiver, rejoicing to be free from tbe confinement of the 
e, hurrying on its way to leap and play around the rockB 
l bars below. Straight away it ran down a gradual de¬ 
nt, until divided by an island, it seemed lost in the tree 
e, producing a beautiful effect. These rapids are called 
Bel-Weir, and have often furnished good sport to local 
[lets. This day the trout were not rising well, but perae- 
snee put a lining of spots in my basket before we re¬ 
lied at. night. After dark several parties of young fellows 
arrived from town to spend the next Monday, a public holi¬ 
day, on the river. With the dawn of Monday all were 
making ready to set out. I had decided to go up a branch 
called the Little River, and my canoe and dunnage had 
been transported to a point above the dam of the gang mill, 
about three miles from Prosser’s. A party going in the 
same direction found room for me in their wagon, and I 
was soon at the mill looking for the guide engaged for mo, 
who was to be an old man with a pipe in his mouth, and 
to answer to the name of Gray. In a few minutes there 
came along a path on the opposite bank a tall, muscular 
old fellow, with keen eyes and Wollingtonian features, 
pulling a short pipe. Hailing me he stepped Into the ca¬ 
noe, poled her across, aud shortly we had everything 
stowed. Each taking a paddle away we went up stream. 
A hail from some lumbermen of “had a smoke yet, Gray?" 
brought out some samples of the old man’s dry humor. 
My canoe was of light wood, broad on the bottom, with 
a skin of wuterproof varnished canvas, . In fishing I stood 
in the bow, and could make casts with ease and safety in 
any kind of water. A properly made canoe is better than 
any boat for river fishing. It can. go in very shallow wa¬ 
ter, through narrow passages, can be lifted over or carried 
around obstructions, propelled easily and swiftly, and in 
rapids, with proper handling, is safer than a boat of any 
kind. A canoe trip, oven without fishing, is delightful; 
there is no better exercise Ilian paddling, you see where 
you are going, and get no twists in your nock. Given blue 
sky and sunshine, it iB’great eujoymont to light your pipe 
after a good dinner, stretch out on your back in a canoe, 
watch tbe smoke, look at tbe sky, have, somebody else 
paddling vigorously against a light breeze, listen to the 
music of the water, and feel the poetry of motion as the 
canoe dances and rocks over the ripples. Gray was a good 
canoeman from long practice; he guided mine with re¬ 
markable skill in the rapids, and in his own words, could 
"shove her anywhere she'd live." After passing through 
a few miles of Btill water, we stopped to fish an old mill 
brook and the Island Falls, then keeping on and fishing 
each rapid, by noon we reached the foot of the Long 
Falls, ten miles up, and stopped for dinner. There I learned 
bow delicious is a freshly caught trout, well broiled over 
awoodfiro. To our great annoyance it was discovered 
that a bag containing the moat of the tinware and camp 
utensils, which Gray called the “trumpery,” had been left 
at. the mill. We had logo back for it, and had only got 
three miles above Lite mill again when it grew dark, and we 
camped for the night. 
Tire next day we pushed on rapidly, taking few trout, as 
natural flies swarmed on tbe water, and we wished to make 
up for lost time. Towards noon they rose well, and at the 
foot of Dave’s Falla I caught two brace of pound trout in 
succession, and lost a leader by a third. By night we had 
made good progress, and camped at the Upper Long Falls. 
Gray pointed out to me a meadow where he once shot two 
moose, and showed me fresh bear sigDS near the camp. 
Muskrats showed themselves often in the water; we saw 
many sticks which had been gnawed by beaverB, and moose 
tracks in tho woods. A large firkin had been brought, in 
which to pack the surplus trout, and Gray, in view of my 
unskillfulness and tbeBmall catch, dryly suggested that we 
leave it until our return, “as it took up so much room.” 
This wasn't to be thought of, and the following day I had 
the satisfaction of seeing thirty-two heavy trout cleaned 
and deposited in the bottom thereof. W ednesday we came 
to the Little Branch, went up it a short distance, but find¬ 
ing the water very low, dropped down and continued on 
our way. Thursday morning we reached the Big Bad 
Falls, at the foot of which was splendid fishing. Here in 
an hour I caught thirty-eight game trout, averaging full a 
pound in weight, and lost as many more. These rapids 
were nearly a mile in length, and as to proceed we would 
have had to carry around them, we decided to turn back. 
At noon I enjoyed seeing fifty good trout added to tbe con¬ 
tents of the firkin, which was filled the next day. Friday 
evening we got back to Prosser’s without accident or mishap 
of any kind, We had gone up about twenty-five miles— 
farther than any fly-fishermen, save one, had ever been be¬ 
fore, and the farther the hotter seemed the fish and the 
fishing. The Little R. is not remarkable for scenery, but 
is in general pleasing. Its average width is twenty yards, 
and is easily navigable for boats. The trout are of good 
size and very abundant. My own catch was not large, but 
as my time was divided between rod and paddle, and my 
fishing more enthusiastic than expert, I think a skilled an¬ 
gler, with a fair chance, could take more fish than be would 
know what to do with. I learned at Kempt that two N. 
H. gentlemen had recently returned from a five days’ trip 
up the main river, with over five hundred trout, having, 
they said, never had better sport. 
Saturday passed in preparing for a long canoe trip. This 
was to descend the Tusket and carry from one of its lakes 
into Bloody Brook branch of the Clyde, to go down B. B, 
and Clyde to tho sea, thence by team to Barrington, and 
ascend tbe Barrington River to its source in Great Pubuico 
Lake, and there get conveyance by land to Yarmouth. I 
had engaged a Canadiau half-breed, by name Jerry Bart¬ 
lett, a tall, siucwy young fellow, full of Indian cunning, 
French mirlhfuless, and Yankee slang, who proved, to use 
his favorite expression, “a good general" guide. Though 
I expected to do little fishing, having only eight days in 
which to make the round trip of about one hundred and 
twenty miles, I had libpes of getting a salmon in the Tus¬ 
ket or Clyde. Leaving Kempt on Monday morning, our 
light craft skimmed like a bird over the lake, and entering 
the river raced with the current down rapid after rapid, 
through little lakes and runs, between banks clothed with 
green foliage, until ut noon we stopped at the Bad F.alls, 
tbe worst on the river. These we could not run with 
safety, so made a portage to the still water below. While 
Jerry was cooking dinner I waded into the stream and 
tried for salmon. After wielding a heavy rod half an 
hour, with only a few trout for my pains, I despaired of a 
rise from larger fish, and carefully trailing my line down 
stream, I stood gazing at the falls above. Glancing at my 
fly, I was astonished'to see tbe silvery sides of a salmon, 
bent like a bow, rising out of tho water. A moment later 
I felt the line running off the reel and raised my rod to 
strike, but too late! the fish had let go. After dinner I 
tried again and again all the pools and eddies, but with no 
buccoss. I have since framed mtmy excuses for the loss of 
that, my first salmon, and justified my delay in striking 
by citations of excellent authorities, but the truth is I was 
so disconcerted by the unexpected rise that I failed to 
strike with that deliberate promptitude which is requisite 
in salmon fishing, 
We readied the Forks at sunset and camped Hear the 
bridges. A branch enters the main liver at this- point, 
whence the name given to the settlement which is entirely 
French. We had this day passed through a beautiful 
country and fine fishing grounds, often’ tempting ns to tar¬ 
ry by the way; yet we were told that the portion of river 
between the Forks and Tusket Falls was more attractive 
Ilian that above. A favorite trip with Yarmouth anglers 
is to descend the rivei from Kempt to Reynard’s Bridge, a 
mile above. Tusket. Gnr plans obliged-us to leave tbe 
main river here and ascend the branch, which we did the 
next day. After working through some troublesome Tap- 
ids we entered on a long, wearisome stretch of Stillwater, 
which wound for miles through dreary barrens. In the 
middle of the day we got to the long, bad rapid? at Tlurl- 
hurl’s Mill, and made a portage to the stream above. In 
the evergreen forest again, we paddled on, and late in the 
afternoon entered Great Barren Lake, singularly mis¬ 
named. It ie a noble sheet of water, three miles long, 
dolLed with numerous picturesque islands which, with the 
shores, were finely wooded. Huge granite rocks lifted 
themselves high out of lhe water, as if guarding the en¬ 
trance, and from one of these, called Molsoa’s, the Indians 
have a tradition that a squaw once shot a fatal arrow ut a 
moose on an island fifty yards away. Skirting the shore, 
we startled a wild duck with her young brood, as they were 
feeding on tbe water. The cunning old bird sought to 
draw our attention from lhe young while they hid on tho 
