

THE 



AMERICAN 



SPORTSMAN'S JOURNAL, 



NEW YORK THURSDAYS FEBRUARY 13, 1879. 



SLEIGHING. 



A New Song to in old Tunb. 



XN January, when in the dairy 

 Tbe cream and clabber freeze, 

 When suow-drif ts cover the fences over, 



We farmers take onr ease. 

 At; night we rig the team, 



And bring the cutter out; 



Then nil it,~nil it, nil It, fill It, 



And heap the furs about. 



The windows glisten, the old folks listen, 



To hear the sleigh bells pass : 

 The fields grow whiter, the stars are brighter. 



The road as smooth as glass. 

 Our mauled fanes barn, 



The clear north wind blows cold, 

 The girls all nestle, nestle, nestle, 



Each in her lover's hold. 



Through bridge and gateway, we're shooting straightway. 



The tollman was too slow ! 

 He'll listen after our song and laughter, 



Aso 



e hill v 



The girls cry : " Fie ! for shame I" 



Their cheeks and lips are red, 

 And so with hisses, kisses, kisses, 



They take the toll Instead. 



Still follow, follow ! across the hollow— 

 The tavern fronts the road. 



Whoa, now ! all steady I the host Is ready- 

 He knows the country mode ! 



The irons are In the lire, 

 The hissing hip is got ; 



So pour and sip It, sip it, sip It, 

 And sip it while 'tis hot. 



The bells are ringing, the ostlers bringing 



The cutters up anew ; 

 The beasts are neighing ; too long we're staying ; 



The night is half-way through. 

 Wrap close the buffalo robes, 



We're all aboard once more ; 

 Now jingle, jingle, jingle, 



Away from the tavern door. 



So follow, follow, by hill and hollow, 



And swiftly home we glide. 

 v.ijLi. midnight splendor 1 how warm and tender 



The maiden by your Hide ! 

 The sleighs drop far apart ; 



lier words are soft and low; 

 Now, i f yon love her, love her, love her, 



"Pis safe to tell her so. 



Edmund Claeknob Stedman. 



For Forest and Stream and Hod and Gun, 



faqhwami §ag. 



XT was in July, 187—, that the Major and myself, with F., 

 who was a young but enthusiastic fisherman then (he is 

 not any the less enthusiastic now), took our first coasting 

 trip out. from Sault Ste. Marie. Our objective point was 

 Bachewana Bay. We intended to fish the Harmony and 

 some other streams emptying along that coast. 



Bachewana Bay is one of the most beautiful of Lake Su- 

 perior's many beautiful bays. There are some wilder in 

 scenery, more abrupt in their shores, and with highor adja- 

 cent mountains. Thunder Bay has a magnificence of view, 

 with its grand old cape and the bold heights of Pie Island, 

 not to be equaled ; but for a calm and quiet beauty, which 

 charms to dreaminess and is full ol restf ulness, Bachewana 

 Bay surpasses all 1 have ever seen. Entering it along the 

 wooded coast of Goulais Point, which shuts out the view 

 until the last little cape is turned, there comes suddenly 

 upon one's sight, clear and distinct over the green island and 

 tbe miles of quiet water, the mountains of its northern and 

 eastern shores, while the sky and water are of that intense 

 blue which seems so unreal upon canvas. The mountain 

 line extends beyond the actual shores of the bay on the south- 

 east, so that it seems one unbroken chain away beyond 

 where we know Goulais River lies, while upon the north the 

 sharp gap through which Harmony pours its waters comes 

 into view, with the higher mountains seen through it be- 

 yond. And with the summer sun casting the shadows of 

 the clouds upon the bay and mountains, as it did the day we 



first sailed upon its waters, the whole made a picture which 

 rivalled the Bay of Naples. It only needed, we all thought, 

 the busy life of Italy to be even more beautiful than any 

 Italian scene. 



It was after some hard rowing in the teeth of heavy head 

 winds that our guides had tbe evening before brought us to 

 Gros Cap. We had rested on our way at the Point of Pines 

 and plucked the trailing arbutus and the wild strawberry in 

 bloom. We had cast, as I have always clone, on passing 

 (and w T ith the same success, or, rather, want of success) 

 about Gros Cap rocks. (Pine trout are sometimes caught 

 there, however, notwithstanding my failures, at least tradi- 

 tion has it so.) We had taken, as I have seldom failed in 

 doing, some fine lake trout just off tbe southern point of the 

 island. We had suffered from mosquitoes at night until 

 they were blown away by r the storm of wind and rain, which 

 prostrated our tent and wet our stores. So the next morn- 

 ing we were in the wood to welcome what came — a fresh 

 fair wind and a lovely day. So we crossed the mouth of 

 Goulais Bay, and, rounding the point, tbe beauty of the 

 scene burst unexpectedly upon us. But it is not alone first 

 impressions from which I speak of its beauty. I have been 

 there more than once since, and the charms of that sheet of 

 water and its surroundings have not grown less by long ac- 

 quaintance. 



We had so fair a wind that instead of going directly to 

 Harmony River we went up into the extreme south east 

 corner of the bay to a stream known as Cady's River, and 

 but seldom visited. We had found some fine fishing along 

 the projecting points and stoney shores of Goulais Point. 

 We passed on the way one or two parties of fishermen, 'who 

 seemed to be having good sport. Indeed, the fishing all 

 along the exposed points about Bachewana and Goulais bays 

 is very fine, probabJy as fine as almost any place along the 

 whole lake shore, and as good fish are caught as anywhere 

 except in the Nepigon. Many of the most experienced 

 North Shore fishermen prefer this part of the coast to any 

 other. The fishing is mostly from the boat, and therefore 

 pleasanter than stream fishing, where a long cast is surer of 

 a bush than a trout. A week's absence from the Sault will 

 give, ordinarily, several days' fine sport. I am sure if this 

 was better known the bay would be more frequently visited. 



We reached Cady's River shortly after noon, and, unload- 

 ing our boat, we pushed up as far as the brush and logs 

 would permit, casting our flies as occasion offered. But no 

 trout tried to hit a fly with his tail there. So John, one of 

 the voyageurs, and myself went ashore and pushed through 

 the brush up the stream to find some rapid water. John 

 preceded me, breaking a path through the undergrowth, and 

 soon I saw him beckoning me to come to him. I reached 

 him and found him peering over the bank at the first pool 

 between two ripples. The sun shone brightly in upon the 

 clear cold water, showing in a space hardly ten feet square 

 more trout than I had ever before, or have ever since, seen 

 at one view, unless it was in a trout preserve or hatchery, 

 and it was a view worth going far to see. Out of the hun- 

 dreds there seemed to be none less than ten inches in length, 

 with many eighteen or twenty. Stepping cautiously back 

 and taking up my line to withiu three feet of the tip of the 

 rod, and thrusting the butt back into the brush, I tightened 

 the line so as to bend the tip joint, and snapped the fly into 

 the pool. In an instant I had a beauty of near three pounds 

 in weight. It took time and patience to kill him there, and 

 when it was done John crawled on the ground to the bank 

 and reached down his hand and lifted him out, for we could 

 not get a landing net through the brush. Calling for the 

 Major and P., wc took in a few minutes six fine trout with a 

 united weight of over fifteen pounds; and, strange to say, 

 though we tried all sorts of flies aud even bait, we could not 

 get another to rise. We could not get higher up the stream, 

 the wilderness was so dense ; so, when tired of our fruitless 

 efforts, we went back to camp. 



But for the mosquitoes, the camp was a pleasant one. 

 The bar we had brought from home proved too light, and to 

 have enough breaches to let in a regiment, and Bachewana 

 Bay lost that night the restful and dreamy influences it had 

 thrown over us during the day ; so we smoked and applied 

 mosquito oil by turns until toward morning, when a breeze 

 from the lake relieved us. 



The next morning I noticed a change in the level of the 

 lake, aud set to making observations. I found a rise and 

 fall of about fifteen inches. Between ten and eleven in the 

 forenoon it rose a foot, and by twelve three inches more. 

 At four in the afternoon it had fallen a foot. All this was 

 without any apparent change in the force or direction of the 

 wind, but an appearance in the distance of threatening 

 storm. I have become convinced, from that and subsequent 

 observations, that this tide is mainly " barometrical," if I 

 may use such a term. 



We changed camp that evening to Jones' River, where we 

 found an Indian lodge with six inmates. That night the 

 elder Indian, with his oldest son, went out in a canoe to 

 spear sturgeon. The weather was threatening, but the 

 family was hungry, and off they went. We watched the 

 canoe's tossing light until the storm broke upon us, aud it 

 disappeared. The women— the old mother and the wife of 

 the elder Indian— were dreadfully frightened. But about 

 three in the morning the canoe came in with a huge stur- 

 geon for spoils, and there was general rejoicing. 



We took some fine trout the next morning, but the Indian 



boy of eleven or twelve years old, with a twine line, a hook, 

 and a piece of pork we gave hint for bait, went out when we 

 did, above us, and came back with a bigger string, though 

 of smaller trout than we had. In the afternoon we sailed 

 for Harmony, giving the Indians at parting some bread, 

 pork and tobacco, and receiving in return a strip of sturgeon 

 flesh about three feet long by nearly four inches wide. 



We reached Harmony before sunset. The river below the 

 falls is sluggish, dark and unattractive ; but the falls sud- 

 denly burst upon us as we rounded a turn in the river, and 

 the scene became lively and grand beyond my powers of 

 description. The heights were steep and wooded upon both 

 sides, and the falls between, with intervening foam-flecked 

 pools, made it a wild and beautiful place. I had no idea of 

 finding such attractive scenery. I do not now recall the 

 height from the top of the main fall to the dead water below 

 the lower fall, but my impression is that it must be consid- 

 erably over a hundred feet. I have never visited it 

 since that time, for the reason that lumbermen the next year 

 began work there, and until they desert it (I think they left 

 there a year or two ago), its charm as a fishing stream was 

 lost. Tbe character of the scenery must have been changed 

 by the destruction of timber. 



The river was very high from recent rains, and tbe usually 

 dark color of the water changed to a muddy hue. We knew 

 our lines would not fall in pleasant places, and so fished 

 none that evening. We camped upon the large granite rock 

 just above the lower falls, securing our tent by anchors of 

 stone. The black fly was out in force, and about daylight 

 the next morning wo felt the approaches of that insidious 

 little pest— the sand fly. 



The river was somewhat lower in the morning, but hardly 

 in suitable condition for angling. We took a few fine trout, 

 however, and I had part of my tackle carried away by some 

 fish while fishing with bait at the foot of the lower fail ; but 

 I did not think it was a trout. In the afternoon tbe water 

 became clearer, and I went up near the foot of the upper 

 fall, just above a fine pool, and took several. There was, 

 just across from the rock from which I fished, a pool covered 

 with foam, which I found difficulty in reaching with my fly, 

 partly on account of unskillful casting, and partly on ac- 

 count of the overhanging trees ; but, whenever I did reach 

 it, a trout was sure to rise, and when he did I was sure of 

 JJ trout. But I had one grevious disappointment. A huge 

 'T'ellow (I guessed his weight at five pounds), rushed at the 

 fly as it struck the foam, and I hooked him. Between him 

 and me was a swift current some twentyffive feet wide, and 

 at the lower end of the pool a log and some brush were 

 lodged. If he got there he was lost; so I determined to 

 risk the current, and drew him toward me. He was a pow- 

 erful fish, and it strained every fibre of line and rod to con- 

 trol him. Striking the current, down he rushed until I 

 checked him and gradually persuaded him up a few feet, 

 where he stopped. He had the " sulks." I couldn't move 

 him a foot, for I had all the strain on the rod which it would 

 bear. If I diminished the pressure he wouldn't go down 

 stream an inch, and to slack the line would be to lose the 

 trout. It was a trial of endurance, and how it would have 

 terminated I cannot tell ; for there was a sudden snap, the 

 rod straightened, and the' fly went into the air. 1 reeled up 

 and found my hook broken just below the barb. He was a 

 majestic fellow — I saw his broad side as he struck — and once 

 in the current, his powerful tail came to the surface in full 

 view. It was as broad as the length of my hand. Why is 

 it that tbe fish lost is always bigger than those caught ? I 

 leave that to be answered by philosophers, not fishermen. 



We did not think the fishing remarkably fine, but when 

 we came together in the evening we had captured so many 

 that we concluded it would be murder to take more. 



The next morning we left the Harmony. A moderate 

 breeze took us along past the Indian village on the west, and 

 past the Bachewana and Carp Rivers. We bad so many fish 

 we'did not care to try them. Indeed, we had rather tired of 

 stream fishing, and thought a day or so of rock fishing would 

 make a pleasing variety. Fishing is fine in Carp" River. 

 Landing at or near an old pier built by some miners, and fol- 

 lowing an old railroad grade until it crosses the river, and 

 thence coming down tbe river, there is to be found very tine. 

 sport. Trout of three pounds are not uncommon, and two 

 and a half pounds are frequently taken. The railroad re- 

 ferred to was built up to some iron or copper mines several 

 miles inland, now abandoned. 



We passed Corbier (pronounced Kirby) Point about two 

 o'clock, and, going around up the coast, "we made camp on 

 Pancake Bay, or just near its entrance. About four o'clock 

 in the afternoon we took the boat and went off a little point 

 on which the sea was breaking noisily and dropoed our flies 

 on the water. The fish rose splendidly, aud in'an hour we 

 had a dozen weighing nearly twenty pounds. F. hooked 

 one of two pounds in the side, and 'the fight was vigorous 

 and long. The Major struck, and finally captured, one which 

 weighed three pounds, and which had tbe "sulks." It was 

 curious to watch him in the clear water, every fin in position, 

 but not trying to move. We fished in water about twelve 

 feet deep, the bottom of which was coveted with huge rocks 

 or boulders. At times, when a fish was hooked, several 

 others would come out. and follow him around in his si i UfJ 

 gles, regardless of the boat or tiic fishermen. We were 

 joined at camp that night by three boat loads of fishermen 

 who had .been having fine sport along the Goulais Point 



