164 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[April 1, 1880. 



had evidently been framed, there was at first sight a de- 

 cided look of flve-thousand-a-year about it: but it fire 

 hundred found its way into the mansion house coffers, 

 his nearest relations did not know how it could get there, 

 as the land had long been under creditors' management. 

 This did not prevent two or three annual meets of the 

 hounds on his lawn ; and I have myself seen champagne 

 flow like water on such occasions, and watched with in- 

 ward wonderment the sons and daughters splendidly 

 mounted, and fautlessly got up, leading the pursuing 

 field, as the never-failing fieynard sped swiftly I "rom the 

 groves and shrubberies that surrounded the imprisoned 

 paterfamilias. There is a way of working these things 

 in the Emerald Isle, however, which we foreigners are 

 unable to fully understand. I could, perhaps, throw a 

 little light upon the subject ; but fly-fishing, once more, 

 is our theme, and not the domestic economy of Hibernian 

 squires. 



As our flies make their first sweep in the air, and fall 

 in that unsatisfactory and " kinky " manner that is al- 

 ways the case with a dry cast and a first throw, one of 

 the welcome and oft recurring showers comes lightly 

 pattering on the leaves of the trees, we have just turned 

 our backs upon, and dimpling the surface of the swirl- 

 ing-pool before us. Responsive comes the flash of a yel- 

 low-belly, aud the inexplicable tremor that, electric like, 

 communicates itself to the rod's point, and he is fast 

 dashing in every direction through the clear brown 

 water. Another* and another find their way into the 

 basket, now falling a prey to the cochy-bonda, and now 

 saccumbing before the equally fatal allurements of the 

 woodcock and orange on tne grouse-hackle. While upon 

 the subject of flies, I must confess to being to a great ex- 

 teat a mocker — a state of opinion born rather of personal 

 experience and observation than of theory. Being at 

 one time an ardent fly-tier, and laboring under the delu- 

 sion for many years that he who fished with bought flies 

 was only half an angler, I was at last forced by the even 

 run of success that season after season, with an increas- 

 i ig disregard for winged nature, attended the standard 

 flies, that I gradually reduced rny stock to a rather un- 

 commonly diversified experience of every kind of water 

 and every species, and every nationality of the trout 

 family. A fact, which rather clinched my unbelief, was 

 that my steps for two or three years followed frequently 

 along the same river banks that were being, at that time, 

 trodden by the late Mr. Stewart, whom I used occasion- 

 ally to meet at those historic trysting places that are 

 scattered along the banks of Tweed and her tributaries. 

 Tnat gentleman, continuously the most successful trout 

 fisherman in Scotland, that land of piscators, was, as his 

 book still testifies, a very complete scoffer. It was diffi- 

 cult to refute such evidence as that, though it was with 

 something like a bigh that I saw my favorite sport shorn 

 of its entyinologica! mysteries, old fogyish though they 

 were, trampled out successfully by the incontestable evi- 

 dence of baskets filled to bursting from unpreserved and 

 much-whipped streams, with that constancy that dis- 

 tinguishes tne champion fisherman of the North Country 

 in those days, even above the army of skillful fishers that 

 this portion of the world produces, 



Mr. Francis Francis, of the Field, the mightiest angler 

 of Southern England, from his gently-flowing, willow- 

 bordered Hampshire streams, shouted forth, I recollect, 

 his defiance at these new heresies : but Mr. Stewart and 

 his followers fished on, and slew their thousands of the 

 wariest brook trout in the world, in the teeth of scientific 

 indignation, with their black hackle and their woodcock 

 all tied on that small hook that distinguishes Scottish 

 flies above all others. Could, after that, a poor angler 

 be expected to rush, waist deep, into the stream, and 

 pursue, vainly, perhaps, every winged midge that came 

 sailing past him, and spend precious minutes, when 

 trout are rising, seated in a bed of rushes, and surround- 

 ed by a paraphernalia of dubbing and feathers, of silk 

 and mohair, of hooks, and thread, and scissors, and 

 pincers, and goodness knows what, endeavoring to make 

 a feeble imitation of the insects whose place above the 

 surface of the stream has in the meanwhile been sup- 

 plied by some distant relatives of a decidedlv superior 

 flavor? 



Have you ever seen, dear reader, one of those fore- 

 fathers' ancestral, those hereditary, fly-books, that our 

 ancestors, at any rate in the old country, contrived 

 somehow or other to carry along the river bank? In the 

 days or my youthful ardor, fired by Constant contact witli 

 an elderly relative of the "old time" angling school with 

 a desire to surround myself with the cumbrous appur- 

 tenances of a bygone age, and imbued with a contempt 

 for the more concentrated conveniences of the mod- 

 ern fly-fisherman, I took the old gentleman's fly-hook, 

 which hud ever been to me art object of admiration, and 

 enlisted the services of all the ladies of the family in the 

 manufacture of it, upon what I may call the Sir 

 Humphrey Davy style. It was an awful book ; the in- 

 side game pockets of a shooting jacket were completely 

 filled by this bulky volume. For years, I am ashamed 

 to say, 1 bore this bundle to the river side. It was the 

 admiration of all youthful aspirants. The young gentle- 

 man who had more money than brains— a would-be 

 sportsman of the Cockney order— offered me twenty 

 dollars for the old bundle of parchment in its red leather 

 case, without the contents. It made immense impres- 

 sions everywhere, I can assure you. 



Nothing could have been prettier than the variety of 

 water offered by the Irish stream. The foaming 

 cascade of hi her and sterner regions was not there, it is 

 true ; but rapid and pool, sparkling in the occasional sun- 

 beams and ruffling in thewesteni breeze, alternated with 

 that exact proportion of each that the angler loves. For 

 two miles no free nor bush impeded the full backward 

 sweep of the line, and the foot trod incessantly on velvet 

 turf. 



As regards the trout, too, we were in luck, for they 

 continued to rise, with little cessation, for three hours or 

 more— Hue, plump little fellows occasionally, but not 

 often reaching half a pound ; a trifle smutty in color in 

 the higher water* from their peaty character, but 

 getting more silvery as we descend the stream, and more 

 like our Allegheny trout, which is surpassed in game- 

 ness, appearance and flavor by the inhabitants of no 

 rivers in the old country, and surpasses those of the 

 majority that I have had experience of ; and this latter 

 — I mention it for the sake only of the comparison — has 

 not been either cursory or occasional, but thorough and 

 varied. 



About one o'clock, just as the basket-3trap begins to 

 feel a little tight round the chest, Jack comes strolling 

 up to meet me. as before settled, for luncheon, with his 

 heavy Irish rod towering above him and hi3 three ponder- 

 ous Irish Bias streaming from his coat. We used to have 

 a joke against him in old days about the weight of his 

 tackle, wherein it was insinuated that he. used to single 

 out his fish as they were feeding near the surface, and 

 steer them with iris leader. Our baskets, oddly enough, 

 contain exactly the same proportion of fish to one anoiher 

 as they used to do in former days, making a trifling al- 

 lowance for Jack's knowledge of the water, which is as it 

 should be, and seems a pleasant tribute to pleasant 

 memories. We count out, if I recollect aright, seven 

 dozen trout between us. 



Why is it that in writing a sketch of a day's fishing, or 

 of a day's shooting, too, for that matter, the sporting 

 chronicler invariably pulls up, as if he had reached some 

 longed-for half-way haven, at the everlasting, hackneyed, 

 threadbare -worn midday snack ? The English writer, 

 whether in Europe, Africa or Asia, pauses to sing, as if 

 it had never been sung before, the noonday delights of the 

 invaluable flask of Kinahan, and moralizes a little before 

 resuming his sport amid the fragrant clouds of Mr. 

 Wills' Bristol bird's-eye. 



His American cousin, though his menu is perhaps more 

 varied, still finds it hard to get through without assuring 

 the public that his inner man did not suffer in any way 

 from want. As for myself I cry " peccavi'' as loud as 

 ever, M} - pen can no more help pausing at that eventful 

 period of the day than can my appetite refrain from the 

 basket of luxuries, which Jack's little groom emerges 

 with from behind a neighboring wall — to my intense 

 amazement, and shall we say also satisfaction. I say 

 amazement, foi Jack and I had always rather done the 

 frugal on our sporting expeditions upon principle, and 

 I had supposed the boy had driven the carriage back and 

 that Jack had a bite in his pocket for us both. However, 

 for once in a, way the cloth was spread, aud beneath a 

 thorn bush white with blossoms and amid the cries of 

 the curlews and the screaming of the lapwings, the pop- 

 ping of corks resounded. 



What wonder, then, that after such good things fresh 

 vigor attended our evening efforts. The wild moorland 

 scenery was left behind, and our river earned us through 

 scenes which, though peaceful enough, were more redo- 

 lent of fife than the barrens behind us. The trout con- 

 tinued to rise, and every dark pool and bright eddy 

 yielded its tribute. We had to be less reckless now in 

 the manipulation of our lines for tall trees. Willows, 

 poplars, mountain ash and beech threw at intervals their 

 lengthening shadows on the stream and on the meadows, 

 that grew greener and brighter in the light of evening. 

 Here upon the bank, in a sheltered nook of Woods, is a 

 gamekeeper's cottage, picturesque in its thatched roof 

 and latticed windows. Here too a busy mill with its long 

 deep pool full of big overgrown, not-to-be-tempted trout 

 that the miller doubtless takes wholesale annually. 



Ruins there are, too, in plenty all through the country, 

 from yonder ivy-covered toyver that, four cen- 

 turies ago, was the stronghold of some petty chief, in 

 whose recesses the pigeons from generation to' generation 

 have reared their young, to the stupendous remains of 

 the famous Castle "of Ballynagar, that crown the summit 

 of a green hill hard by — immense and solid relies .if an 

 age that Irish history can scarcely throw light upon, and 

 which played, doubtless, an important part in those dim 

 and distant days when the haughty Normans, under 

 Fitzgislebert and De Lacy, wrested from the kings of 

 Leicester their savage kingdom. 



But it is time to wind up both our reel and our story. 

 We have a mile to walk to the bridge, where the boy is 

 waiting with the trap, and six miles to drive home, and 

 Jack is getting nervous about the parson, who, like many 

 of those venerable eaters and drinkers still extant, would 

 have a rit if he were kept waiting ten minutes over the 

 regular dinner horn-. Both of us agree we have never 

 known fish rise so constantly, without cessation, as on 

 the present occasion, Tor though we started late and it is 

 yet barely sundown, we count out thirteen dozen trout 

 as the result of our joint efforts, which for a river that is 

 poached at will in the dry summer months, and is 

 reckoned only as a second rate stream at the best, is a 

 very fair haul. Devout thankfulness is uppeimost in 

 our breasts that we did not— a3 at first had been our in- 

 tent ion — send home the carriage, and trust to our legs to 

 con vey both ourselves and our fish home. 



Ih.along, gradual twilight falls as we roll homeward 

 between the beech hedges, and the stillness and gloom of 

 an old country night h,ys fallen before the lights are seen 

 twinkling from Jack's library windows, within which 

 his anyioue imagination paints the hungrv parson rest- 

 lestlessly perambulating, with his eyes on 'the clock and 

 his thoughts upon the soup. A shout at the lodge, a short 

 spin Over smooth gravel and through dark laurel shrub- 

 beries, and the light shines from the open door in our 

 faces, and over the smooth lawn, and on the cascade that 

 leaps down it, darkened only by the portly figure of that 

 pillar of the church, who, as anticipated, is there to 

 greet ns, watch m hand and distress depicted on his 

 countenance, which, if is needless i;o add, is speedily re- 

 moved by the mellowing influences shortly brought to 

 bear upon that kindly bon vivant. Rin&wood. 



Charlemont, Va. 



A DAY AT LANE'S. 



SCIENTIFIC GOOSE SHOOTING. 



WE took the ferryboat at Thirty- fourth street for 

 Hunter's Point at 3.15— an earlier one at J, me--.' 

 •Slip would have done as well— on Saturday, the 21st tilt., 

 catching the 3.80 train on the Long Island Railroad, for 

 Good Ground aud Shinnecnck Bay. The train was off 

 on time, and we were pleased to recognize the faces of 

 two of the oldest conductors on the road— tli.bs.on on the 

 mainline, and Sweeaey on the Sag Harbor branch. Thev 

 are conductors of the olden time, before elevated roads 

 v,;:yc known, and when to be a. conductor was not to 

 bury all the courtesies and instincts of the gentleman 

 behind a blue coat with brass buttons. We were glad 

 also to learn that the Long Island Railroad under its 

 lagetnent is fast acquiring the confidence 

 of the public. Its system of low faxes and freights, with 



its rigid regularity, may not be so remunerative at first, 

 but wiH pay in the end, if the public is honestly dealt 

 with, as seems to ba the determination of the present 

 Board of Managers. 



We noticed several sporting characters on the train, as 

 divers gun cases and heavy satchels gave ample evidence. 

 Upon making a judicious inquirv, we found two gentle- 

 men, Messrs. J, 8. Mundy and J. W. Phillips, from New- 

 ark, were bound with us for " the Sportsmen's Retreat," 

 or more familiarly called " Bill Lane'i." Others got off at 

 Moriches, Wosthampton and Atlauticvilla — all noted 

 places for good shooting. 



We found Johnny Lane with bis vehicle at the station, 

 and after a ride of twenty minutes were lauded at the 

 Betreat, and heartily welcomed by mine host. We found 

 several sportsmen there, and had the satisfaction of learn- 

 ing the geese were moving, some twenty having been 

 killed the day before, and that the pro»p«cts were good. 

 After a hasty ablution we were called in to supper, and 

 such a supper ! Who that has ever viiited that celebrated 

 spot does not hold in reverential memory Mrs. Lane'B 

 clam fritters? Were there ever anywhere "else such frit- 

 ters? As plate after plate disappeared, and the cry was 

 still for more, until Datura cried aloud ; and that coffee, 

 and those roast ducks — not market ducks, but fresh 

 killed from the bay, and roasted to — but hold ! we can 

 do the subject justice only at that ample board, and not 

 on paper. ' Tbe evening was pleasantly spent in the gun 

 room, telling shooting stories, loading shells, etc. , pre- 

 paratory to an early start on Monday. 



Lane never goes out of a Sunday, both because he is a 

 law-abiding man, and also because he says that the ducks 

 and geese, as well as man, need a rest, and more satisfac- 

 tory work is done from the lay over, hence Monday gen- 

 erally gives the best results of the week. A law is about 

 being urged, and probably will be passed by the Super- 

 visors of the countv, allowing only three days' in the week 

 to gun ducks, say Monday, Wednesday and" Friday. This 

 if not applied to goose shooting would be a desirable 

 thing, but including them, we think, as they fly only in 

 certain weather, and do not stay, would be rather hard, 

 and would not work. 



Upon retiring, your correspondent found coming over 

 him one of his old attacks of rheumatism in his" right 

 foot. Were he an English nabob, or a generous liver, it 

 might be called gout. It is very painful, and the long 

 night of agony in that corner room of Lane's will not 

 soon be forgotten. But morning came at last, and hob- 

 bling down to the lounge in the gun-room, be lay there 

 all day swathing the swollen member with hot applica- 

 tions of soda in the devout hope of being able to get out 

 on the following day ; but alas, Monday rooming found 

 it not much better and he saw Bill and George, with 

 Mundy, Phillips and Shtpherd start with stools across 

 the bay. It proved an excellent day for goosing. Before 

 reaching the bogs, where were the boxes, a large flock of 

 geese, some out) in number, arose and flew hack and 

 forth, until sometf.more favored party to the west blazed 

 away and sent them off. But others were coming in, 

 aud but a short time after the setting of the decoys, the 

 guns could be distinctly heard telling us that the fun 

 had commenced. Your correspondent having propped 

 himself up before the window, with a good field ylass 

 could easily see the different flocks as they came in and 

 approached the point where the shooters were concealed, 

 and could see the white puffs of smoke and the sudden 

 descent of the falling bodies, and as (hey Btruek and 

 threw up the water in the bay. ah I what aggrava- 

 tion — what a situation for a sportsman. — nursing a burn- 

 ing, throbbing foot, every movement of which was worse 

 than ten toothaches, listening to those guns and seeing 

 what he sayv 1 Was it not enough to provoke " langui »« 

 not meant for ears polite?" Would it have been very 

 wrong and inexcusable if he thought a bad word, just 

 once? Distance lent no enchantment to that vieyv. Ilo 

 wanted to be there himself, and how often he vowed 

 that on the morrow he would go if he had to crawl on 

 his hands and kneeB to the boat. And when evening 

 came and they brought in twenty-nine geese us the 

 result (one having been lost in the bayfuf the day's 

 hooting, he yvas still determined. And the dories they 

 told of this one's making that double shot, and of the 

 long shot.one of Mundy's,with his 10-inch Long Tom, 100 

 yards as they all agreed. (About bow a flock of eleven 

 came in hovering around the stools and they all fired two 

 barrels each and not a biped scored to the account, they 

 had not much to say). But such things will happen. 



By frequent applications of hot soda during the previ- 

 ous evening, Tuesday morning, when Lane called, found 

 the undersigned suffering some but determined still. 

 With tightly closed teeth and a grip almost of despair, 

 the rubber boot was pulled on, and though excruciating 

 at first, the pain gradually grew to a numb feeling and 

 he started with the rest. Now, lest some pi your readers 

 may not understand the modus I per \i< 



ing as brought to a science in Shinnecoek flay, let me 

 give you a description, 



There are a number of rigs (as they are called) of live 

 decoys around the bay, the largest and best of which 

 is Owned by Wm, Lane. His outfit consists oi sbm« 

 thirty-eighj wild geese, tamed and educated . to a C9IIV 

 tain extent; some of these have been wing-tipped and 



cured up; others he has rai B ■■■ often mate, even 



in captivity). He has a large, closely-fenced yai 

 ing plenty of water, where they are. kept and regularly 

 fed twice a day when shooting. During the s'lnnaer, 

 after having clipped one of their wings, they are allowed 

 their freedom, and they never fail to come back at night 

 for their feed and roost, though they may have been. fax 

 out in the bay. Lane generally takes about twenty or 

 twenty-five of these geese at a time (placing them care- 

 fully in boxes) across the bay to the point, where a bar 

 runs out. On this point boxes of sufficient si/,, 

 a man to lie down comfortably were previously Bunk 

 even with the surrounding soil and then trimmed with 

 sedge gran, making a complete blind. The decoys, with 

 a hopple or leather strap on each, are staked out on the 

 bar at irregular intervals, say halt a gun shot from tbe 

 blind. An old and educated gander is placed on nun 

 side or the other, and a short distai.ee from the main 

 flock. He is the caller or honker. And a W< I 

 honker is a very valuable bird. Lane has two that he 

 says he would not take $200 apiece for. 



And here is where Lane's great nuc--.cn over his many 

 competitors comes m. He knows his birds ; he studies 

 them ; understands their notes and their workings, and 

 while geese often fly around other stools, when they 



