Forest and Stream. 



A Weekly Journal of the Rod and Gun. 



Terms, $i A Yeah. 10 Cts. a Copy. I 

 Six Month;, --.;. f 



NEW YORK, JULY 12, 1883. 



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CONTENTS. 



EDITORIAL. 







Japanese Pheasants in 



Califor- 



Kennel Notes. 

 Rifle and Trap Shooting. 



The Bottle Joke. 





Muzzle vs. Breech Loader. 



The Wimbledon Team. 







Tue Sportsman Tourist. 





■' ' ;r! Trajectory of Bifles 



On the Virginia Shot-,.. 







A Story of War Times. 







A Seafaring Reminisccu 





The Ira il i uoaivl. 



Natural History. 





The Trap. 



Commander Islands. 







Game Bag and Gun. 





Canoe Racing. 



Notes from Cape Cod. 





Yachting. 







Marjerie's Narrow Beam. 



Camp hre Flickering*. 

 Sea and River Fishing. 





What is the I Be of Sandbags; 



Mossbnnkers or Menhac 







Fishing Near New York 





Sylvia— Gracie Match, Belle- 



The Secrets of Angling. 





ville, Ont. 



J-lsttouLTURE, 





A Justifiable Move. 



The American Fisheultural As- 



Beverly Y. C. 







Larchmont Y. C. 



THE LENNEL. 





Host! in rip, Regatta. 



Dogs at the New York Show-. 



HullY.C. 



Training Beagles. 





Beverly Y. C. Matches. 



Cha-ing Hares at Field Trials. 



Cruise of the Chicago Y. C. 



The Beagle Club. 

 Eastern Field Trials De 





From tiie Delaware. 



-l>y. 



Time Limits. 



Mastiffs. 





The Steamer Pilgrim. 



Kennel Management. 





Answers to Correspondents. 



With its compact type and in Us permanently enlarged form 

 of twenty-eight pages this journal furnishes each wee.ua larger 

 amount of first-class matter relating to angling, shooting, the 

 kennel, and kindred subjects, than is contained in all other 

 American publications put together. 



Ten Years.— With the issue of July 26, the Forest and 

 Stream will have completed its first ten years of publica- 

 tion. 



JAPANESE PHEASANTS IN CALIFORNIA. 

 TN our issue of November 3, 1881, was published a letter 

 ■*- from Lieut, W. W. Folger, of the Navy, thou stationed at 

 Shanghai, in which letter he told us of Consul-General 

 Denny's willingness to procure Japanese pheasants for im- 

 portation into this country. An appeal was made to 

 sportsmen's associations to avail themselves of this kind of- 

 fer by making provision for receiving and caring for the 

 birds. Whether because discouraged by the fruitless mi- 

 gratory quail importation or from a lack of public spirit, 

 game societies appear to have given no attention to the sub- 

 ject, save the California State Sportsmen's Association. 



Something over a year ago that society received from 

 Japan nine pheasants— they being all the survivors of a lot 

 of seventy-five birds shipped. The pheasants were put in 

 charge of'a gentleman at Sun Mateo, and carefully provided 

 for in a house specially constructed for them. We learn 

 from the Pacific Life that the birds have thrived. Eighteen 

 young have been hatched and are now a month old, and 

 sixty eggs were, at the time of writing, yet to be heard 

 from. The association appears to have demonstrated that 

 it is practicable to breed the birds in this country, and 

 although it is as yet too early to predict the final outcome of 

 their enterprise, it appears highly pi obable that the pheas- 

 ant can be successfully acclimated. 



The so-called English pheasant has been introduced on 

 this side of the continent, one instance being that of Mr. 

 Lorillard's farm in New Jersey, where the bird furnishes 

 sport after the regular English style. 



If the individuals and clubs, who have a great deal to say 

 and little to do in protecting gamo,would direct their intelli- 



gent efforts to following these two examples of public and pri- 

 vate enterprise, they would accomplish much more than can 

 ever be attained by violent denunciations of ' 'pot-hunters'' 

 and "monopolists." Our State associations have abundant 

 means and ever)- opportunity to increase the supply of native 

 game and to introduce foreign game, if they could only be 

 induced to give some attention to the matter. If these socie- 

 ties had begun ten years ago, to labor in a systematic way for 

 this increase, they would have had a great deal to show for 

 it to-day, The next best thing is to begin now. 



THE BOTTLE JOKE. 

 ANE of the harmless institutions of the day is a Funny 

 ^ Paragraphers' You-Tickle-Me-And-I'U-Tickle You 

 Association. The membership is composed of the profes- 

 sionally funny men of a- half dozen professionally funny 

 papers. The duties of the members are simple; each is bound 

 by a cast-iron oath to copy the jokes manufactured by the 

 others, and there his obligations end. Each member of the 

 order makes an annual pilgrimage to the offices of the rest; 

 on which occasions Brother Bill devotes a half column of 

 gush to lauding the visiting Brother Bob's brain, and Brother 

 Bob in return pays in kind by communicating to his own 

 paper an equal number of lines about Brother Bill's capacious 

 intellect. Thus each practices the golden rule and blows 

 hard the other's horn, even as he would that the other should 

 blow his horn. 



A staple topic for these paragraphers and mutual admira- 

 tionists at this season of the year is angling. They gener- 

 ally let themselves loose on the topic of the city angler and 

 the "barefoot boy;" or they try a big "fish story;" or (and 

 for some not wholly occult reason this is their favorite theme) 

 they find their inspiration in the "whisky bottle," It would 

 be an interesting subject of inquiry to determine which of 

 these themes is the most venerable as a joke, or in the para- 

 graphers' hands most dismal. The grandson of the original 

 "barefoot boy" was killed by a British bullet atTicon- 

 deroga; the greatest "fish story" extant is some thousands of 

 years old; and the whisky joke was current in Ireland when 

 Raleigh and Spenser were fighting the Spanish invaders 

 there, and was even then thought by connoisseurs to be con- 



: ir: .. 111;., n i Unwed 1 1 V a;;': 



The latest distillation of this spirituous joke is a product 

 of Iowa. We find it credited by the other funny paragraph- 

 ers to "Bob" Burdette, and it is therefore of the Burling- 

 ton Hairkeye brand. It reads: 



Did we not go fishing it would not be summer. Convers ;Iy , if it 

 were not summer we would not go a-fishing. 



"We are going fishing next week," said Mr. Oldboy, "and I want 

 to be sure we've got all our things together." 



"Got a tent?" asked his partner. 



"Yes, I've got a tent." 



"And a boat?" 



"Yes; that's engaged." 



"Whisky?" 



"Lots of it." 



"Some pilot biscuit?" 



"Yes, a whole box." 



"Five or six dozen of beer?" 



"Yes." 



"Cigars?" 



"Hundreds of 'em." 



"Plenty of whisky-" 



"Yes." 



'■Ham and canned meats?" 



"Yes." 



"A good lot of beer?" 



"Yes." 



"You'll want some ice." 



"I have that, and I have lots of canned goods, plenty of beer and 

 cigars, no end of whisky and bread, and everything I can possibly 

 think of, and yet it seems to me I've left something out." 



"Got your tackle, haven't you?" 



"By George!" shouted Mr. Oldboy, "you've hit it. That's just it- 

 fish hooks and lwes, we'll need sornc of them, won't we? I knew I 

 had forgotten something." 



I do not know why it is, but for some reason nearly every fishing 

 party carries with it a lot of hooks and lines which are only good to 

 tangle up and catch in the drooping branches of the whispering 

 trees. 



Now, as we have said, these paragraphers and their little 

 jokes, even their whisky jokes, are for the most part harm- 

 less. So is a drop of water. But it is the iteration that 

 tells. The drop of water when it falls at regular intervals 

 upon the head of the victim becomes the most refined 

 torture and drives the sufferer into a maniacal frenzy. The 

 angler's whisky is passed around so frequently and so per- 

 sistently by the funny men that respectable gentlemen, who 

 go into the woods for recreation, arc losing their patience. 

 They are tired of having the bottle continually fired at their 

 heads by thess muddled punsters. We know some anglers 

 —very worthy, law-abiding citizens they are, too— who 

 would like nothing better than to impale one of these sland- 



erous jokers on their hook, souse him into a cool stream o 

 pure trout water and "play" him there until the whisky 

 should be well washed out of his gigantic brain aforesaid. 

 Again it has been plotted to invite him out on a shooting 

 trip, when on a preconcerted signal all bauds should acci- 

 dentally fill him full of No. 8 shot. Less heroic than the 

 water cure or the administering of leaden pills, and not so 

 provocative of black lines in the bereaved funny paper, is 

 the method proposed by others, namely to entice the 

 whisky joker into the forest and there compel him to inhale 

 the odor of balsam boughs and the woodsy fragrance until 

 the fumes of the still are evaporated; but, however differ- 

 ing in methods proposed, one and all are agreed that the 

 angler's whisky joke fiend should be squelched, even if it 

 be necessary to disrupt and disband the whole mutual- 

 tickling half dozen of them. 



The funny men are behind the times; this is the year of 

 grace 1883, not 1388. If they ever go angling themselves 

 they ought to know, as we now beg leave to tell them, that 

 it is not all of fishing, nor indeed any part of it whatever 

 to get gloriously drank. An angling trip is not, nowadays 

 at least, an excuse to swill whisky or beer. The profes- 

 sional and business men, clerks, artisans and mechanics 

 who annually by hundreds and thousands go into the woods 

 with fly-rod or bait-hook do not go there to guzzle fire- 

 water. These dismally humorous imputations that anglers 

 think more of their jugs and kegs than of their tackle are 

 standing insults— none the less obnoxious because flat, stale 

 and unprofitable— to all pleasure tourists who in the God- 

 made forests, as at home, are gentlemen and men, not 

 beasts. 



When the Forest and Stream's machinery becomes so 

 nicely adjusted that its editors can "get away" for a fort- 

 night in the woods, nothing would please us better than to 

 take along a trio of the whisky paragraphers to show them 

 how to angle successfully without swilling demijohns of 

 grog. Nor would it be an altogether thankless task to teach 

 the paragrapher how to shoot without loading himself to 

 the muzzle with rum. 



And yet the community as a rule understands these things 

 better than does the funny man. There is no need then of' 

 enlightening him save for his own individual benefit and 

 that of his professional brethren; and the beauty of it is 

 that if we can convert one "Brother Bob" or "Brother Bill" 

 he will, on his annual mutual-admiration tour among his 

 fellows, help to convert them also, until the whole lump 

 shall be leavened. 



Henry Bergh and Angling.— The story about Mr, 

 Henry Bergh's objection to President Arthur because of the 

 latter's angling proclivities turns out to be a fiction, or in 

 short, a lie, concocted by the fertile brain of that mischiev- 

 ous being, a "New York correspondent." The denial from 

 Mr. Bergh, with its good-natured but nevertheless telling 

 sarcasm, published in our last issue, has sufficiently vindi- 

 cated that gentleman from the silly fabrications of the said 

 gossip-loving penny-a-liner. Mr. Bergh might have gone 

 further had he thought it worth while, and have corrected 

 the distorted personal portrait of himself as drawn by the 

 same imaginative and more or less slanderous correspon- 

 dent, who in all probability never heard Mr. Bergh say any- 

 thing about angling or anything else, nor in short, ever saw 

 him. 



A Summer Home for Pets. — When city people leave 

 their homes for a summer in the country or by the seaside 

 it sometimes I lecomes a perplexing problem how they shall 

 provide for their house pets during this absence. In re- 

 sponse to the "long felt wunt" of a caravansery where own- 

 ers may leave their dogs and eats and birds, Miss Ellen M. 

 Gifford, of Boston, has established a "home" for the pw 

 pose in that city. The weekly rates of entertainment are 

 seventy-five cents for small dogs, fifty cents for cats anil 

 thirty-five cents for birds. The institution ought to be a 

 paying one. We shall probably now hear less about the 

 heartlessness of Boston people who leave their cats to die. 



Angling Incidents.— A man out West in casting his 

 hook caught it in one of his eyes, which was ruined. A 

 man who was fishing from a Hoboken dock lost his hat 

 overboard; according to one account lie was drowned in try- 

 ing to recover it; another says a bystander was the unfortu- 

 nate victim; if both accounts are true, both men were 

 drowned. A fisherman near the Highlands, the other day, 

 fished up the body of a drowned man. These cheerful notes 

 might be multiplied, were the catalogue pertinent; but we 

 have no desire to dampen the ardor of any enthusiastic 

 angler. 



