Nov, 23, 1883.1 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



329 



|u# and $iver ^ishbig. 



Opea Skvsons. — fifes table <if open ntsanmx for qauw unci fish 

 ■ I . ofjlity 30. 



FISH IN SEASON IN NOVEMBER. 



FRES1J V*.,,. 



(irayling, Tlit/muitiix tricolor and Striped h;\<s irtockflsU), Jeoi.ru 



IP. ffl ei/awts. ' 



Black bass, Micrnpfrrux, two ape 



elcs. 



' : i ' in,, ;•'. ('.".Mi 1 -„nl,i!:nr 



Filce iN. Y. pickerel). JEsos hiciiii-. 

 Piol ■ : GsoxretU thabua. 

 FUtef>ereb (Wall-eyed pike) .S'tj 



zostcthium. 

 Yellow perch, Perm fluviatilis. 



Stripes bass, Kontun Uneatua. 

 White perch. Jfonmeamcttfcano 

 Tautogorblackflsh,5rtairogaott««i 



e.luefish or tavlor. Pomatomms 

 saltntrix. 



Bachelor', Po 



'Sea trout," Ci/nosc.yon carotfncii- 



Drum. 1'nr/onia.t rhr 

 Red bass. etc.. Srku, 



i general. For special laws ia the s< 



isaaons in issue of July 3(1. 



isoasuattfs: 



Mai States 



Nothing ii 

 iudoetrinnti 



ii the 



education of the young than the 

 Brereise. and the formation of an 

 acquaintance with nature. Every boy, if his surroundings make it 

 possible, should be given the opportunity of becoming an angler, If 

 be te \ee$ n. it, he will be grateful through nil his life for the physical 

 and mental improvement and enjoyment which arc certain to accom- 

 pany him in practicing the gentle and contemplative art.— IT. C. 



WINTER TALKS ON SUMMER PASTIMES. 



IT. 



When time, which steals our years away. 



Shall steal our pleasures too, 

 The memory of the past will stay. 



illd half our joy renew. —Moore. 



ABOUT BASS. 



THE most highly esteemed member of ouv coterie devotes 

 his leisure in angling for bass, ire was bora on the 

 banks of the St. Lawrence, and before he hud mastered his 

 alphabet or shed his short-clothes he had become familiar 

 with the haunts if not with the habits of fhi;t "amy fish. 

 Indeed, although he has passed Ii is I line score years, his 

 "memory runneth not to the contrary" when he world not 

 rather fish than eat. The implements he used were primi- 

 tive but. effective— of just the form and calibre of those we 

 often now sec in I lie hands of our juvenile Waltons — less 

 ornamental than usciul, and intended not to "play'' a 1ish 

 but to "yank" him, with the least possible ceremony, from 

 his aqueou* I (Taeut. D is not StriSnge, therefore, 'that he 

 is passionately fond of the pastime and as eager, new that 

 "bis hoary head is hid in snow," as when, "in the morn and 

 liquid dew of youth," he gladly accepted the task of keep- 

 ins the family table supplied with Tie.- results of his infantile 

 labors. 



There are few busier men in the marls of trade to-day and no 

 man anywhere less likely, from habit or temperament, to 

 squander either time or fortune. He never turns the back 

 of his hand to a friend nor the back of his coat, to an enemy, 

 and would sooner lose the best customer on his long list 

 than forego his visits to bass waters in July and October. I 

 never knew a man with a more perfectly balanced double 

 nature. &.B a merchant he is sedate, reticent and absorbed. 

 As an angler he is cheerful, voluble and merry-hearted. 

 Ten words suffice him to sell a hogshead of sugar, but he 

 will talk an hour on the felicity of striking, fighting and 

 killing a five-pound bass. I once asked him the" weight of 

 the largest fish he ever caught. His response was: 



"I am not sure Chat I can answer your question. I caught 

 what I believe to have been my largest bass when we never 

 thought of weighing them. In my early days, when I fished 

 with a hooppole and corresponding appendages, this thing 

 happened to me: A rough dock extended a few fee-tout 

 into the river in front of iny father's farm. It was placed 

 at a point in the river wheTe the current flowed with mod- 

 erate rapidity over a pebblv bottom. It was not merely just 

 the kind of water bass take to iu October, but its attractive 

 qualities were augmented by the moss-covered logs which 

 constituted the base of the rickety old dock from "which I 

 was wont to angle. On one memorable occasion — 1 could 

 not have passed mv tenth year — my hook was seized by the 

 largest iisli 1 had ever seen of the bass family. My line was 

 not more than twelve feet in length, and it took my lusty 

 visitor but an instant to run off with the slack and force th'e 

 barb clean through his ponderous jaw. The result Was D 

 leap that made my hair stand on end, and brought me to my 

 feet quicker than you could say 'Jack Robinson"' My first 

 impulse wns of course to 'yank' him, but I might as well 

 have tried to 'yank' the dock itself from its moorings. Find- 

 ing him bent on mischief, and foreseeing a long fight, 1 fol- 

 lowed his lead and managed to get on the pebbly beach 

 where I hoped to be able to take hiin out of the net. But, 

 do my best I could not manage it by any of the. processes 

 with 'which I was familiar," and finding myself dragged 

 toward a slough in which 1 would have been ' incontinently 

 swamped if I had attempted to cross it, in sheer despair I 

 made a bee line for the bushes, and very unartistically but 

 very surely ran him ashore— the largest bass, by the common 

 verdict,, ever known to have been caught, in those waters. 

 1 have since la tided hundreds of large fish, scores of them 

 running from seven to ten pounds; but none of them at all 

 approximating the dimensions of this gamy monster. Mak- 

 ing all due allowance for the exaggeration's of dim distance 

 and the fervid imagination of inexperienced youth, i have 

 not a doubt now, and never had. that he weighed fully 

 twelve pounds, avoirdupois. That was nearly fifty years 

 ago," he said, willt a. sigh, "but the recollection of the inci- 

 dent is as fresh in my memory as any event of the last twelve 

 month, Cut more than that, I attribute to the ecstasy 

 which came to me from the capture of that fish the passion 

 for angling which has grown with my years, and from 

 which t have derived more real pleasure (to parody an old 

 couplet) than 



'Any modern Ctesor feels 



With an obsequious Senate at his heels.' " 



"I suppose," queried one of the party, "other fish than 



ha-s were abti ni hint in those days?" 



"Oh, yes! superabundant. Pickerel and niaskalouge 



plenty »s ii- " rfies.' But I never took to either. 



Pickerel wine my especial boyhood abhorrence, and how 



any true brother of the angle'" can so much as touch one of 



the slimy brutes is beyond my comprehension." 



This remark was received with cordial approval, and fresh 



cigars all round. Not till present were veterans in the art, 

 but none of them had the bad taste to call pickerel fishing 

 ap.istiine. In commenting upon the subject, the veteran 

 par excellence among us spoke thuslv: 



>,■> man everfell in love with poetry by reading doggerel, 

 nor diil any one ever acquire a passion for angling bv catch- 

 ing pickerel. It had been my habit from youth up" to idle 

 away an hour now and then fishing for perch, sunfish, bull- 

 pouts and low down trash of that sort. But. I did that sim- 

 ply as an incident in my summer afternoon rambles by the 

 lake shore a nd river side', and not, because I cared tt SI raw for or 

 hankered after that kind of fishing; but once in mv ont-of- 

 the way sautiteriugs I fell in with a friend who was patient- 

 ly Whipping a trout brook. It was a real pleasure to recline 

 beneath the shadow of a great, rock and watch his graceful 

 "easts." He had very few responses, but, when a response 

 came, the delight he evinced as he played and lauded his 

 four or eight ounce fish was fully shared by myself, and I 

 soon found myself fascinated by what my friend was doing. 

 The stream which ran through a beautiful valley, was cast, 

 into deep shadow by the graceful forest trees which lined its 

 borders. _ Not a sound was heard, save, a few bird-notes or 

 the rustling of the leaves as they were moved by the gentle 

 summer breeze which fanned them. The whole seeuec was 

 a poem, and tilt hough I have been in just such places and 

 passed through just such experiences a thousand times; this 

 first picture of the first trout stream I ever saw, comes up 

 before ra,; as distinctly and as vividly as it presented itself 

 to my vision forty years ago. 



"Finding me "thus interested in what he was doing, my 

 friend, with the kindliness and generosity characteristic of 

 the brotherhood, proffered me Ins rod for a. cast. I timidly 

 accepted his offer, and tried, very awkwardly, to do as he- 

 bade me. You can imagine with" what success. He was an 

 expert; I was a novice. He could cast fifty feet, without an 

 effort. When I essayed so much line as the length of the 

 rod the fly came back upon me as if in derision. But I very 

 soon succeeded in reaching the center of the stream, when 

 there came a leap and a strike which made every nerve in 

 my body quiver like a thrummed harp-string, 'l stood in 

 motionless eestacy for a moment, but, as I think, there 

 came to me the inspiration of the born angler, for I played 

 and landed that pound trout with the skill and judgment 

 (my friend being witness) of a veteran. It was the largest 

 trout known to have been taken from that, stream in many 

 years. That incident, fixed my destiny. Until 1 had that 

 experience fishing had no more attraction for me than any 

 minor amusement with which we "kill time" when we find 

 it a. burden. From all of which I merely wish to say thai, 

 no amount of pickerel or buil pout fishing could ever" have 

 inspired in me or in anyone the emotion needful to create the 

 passion for such sort of angling as fascinates while it in- 

 vigorates and augments the wisdom of the wise and makes 

 good men better. Such sort of angling inspires something 

 more than rod and line, 'with a worm tit one end and a fool 

 at the other.' There must be rivulet and lake, forest, and 

 mountain, sunshine and shadow, the music of birds, the mel- 

 ody of running waters, delicate, tackling, and the rise and 

 strike and swirl of bass, trout or salmou. Where such 

 things are combined with the love of nature inherent in the 

 contemplative, mild-mannered and gentle disciples of the 

 historic fathers of the art, angling becomes an irresistible 

 fascination, and gives rest to the weary, vitality to the over 

 wrought, cheerfulness to the despondent, ambling rhythm 

 to the life that now is, and a clearer appreciation of the 

 promised felicities of the life that is to come." 



A epiiet ripple of applause greeted this rhapsody of the 

 honored mentor of the happy group, when our bass Jisher 



oiii the St. Lawrence was asked: 



"Did you never hook a nniscalonge? They arc certainly 



gamy fish, quite deserving the attention of the most fas- 

 tidious' angler." 



''Oh, yes; I have often taken musealonge on a trawl, and 

 their capture gave me a great deal of muscular exercise, but 

 nothing else. "They hook themselves, and all that is required 

 of vou is to drag 'them iu, hand over hand, as rapidly as 

 possible. It requires a little skill to get. them in your bout 

 without upsetting, but not much more than to do the same 

 thing with a water-soaked log, and hauling them in is very 

 much like hauling in the same weight of deadwood against 

 the current. Yes. I have caught musealonge of all weights, 

 from five to thirty pounds, but I wotdd rather take a'five- 

 pound bass on an eight-ounce fly-rod than a score of musea- 

 longe: at the end of a two or three hundred feet trawl." 



"flow do the quantity and weight of bass iu the St. Law- 

 rence now compare with forty years ago?" 



"I do not think the quantity" has materially diminished, 

 but they have changed their haunts. I find very few now 

 where they used to be abundant, and places wheie we never 

 had any luck in old times now teem with them. They are 

 not nearly as plenty among the Thousand Islands as'thew 

 used to be. and no wonder. What with steam yachts and 

 fishing boats, 'thick as autumnal leaves that si row I he brooks 

 in Vallonibrosa,' and net, and spear and indiscriminate slaugh- 

 ter, iu season and out of seasou, by thousands of experts 

 and amateur idlers, it is a marvel that the whole species was 

 not long ago exterminated. And the weight of the fish has 

 fallen off in even greater proportion at that point. The 

 capture of a five-pound bass to-day is something to talk 

 about; forty years ago bass of that weight uniformly made 

 up one-fourth of my catch, The truth is, the fish haven't 

 time to grow — with so many to beguile them, they are caught 

 as soon as they can snap at a hook or rise to a fly. But there 

 are still pleasant and prolific places in the St. Lawrence— I 

 will name some of them to any of you in a whisper — where 

 I never fail to take them as abundantly and of as great 

 weight, with my eight-ounce rod and tiny fly, as I did forty 

 years ago with iny mammoth hoop-pole and ponderous tack- 

 ling." 



"But you do not now confine yourself to the St. Law- 

 rence in your search for bass?" was the next query, not be- 

 cause we did not know, but simply to start him off on his 

 favorite hobby and hear him expatiate upon the pleasant 

 places to which he is beguiled during the season when it is 

 right to go a-Ushing. 



By no means," was his reply. "1 find it trueiu angling as 



' 'ng else — 'variety's the very spice of life.' With my 



love of the pastime has grown my love for, and appreeia- 



in every thii 



tiou of, the grand and beautiful in nature, and I have fished 

 for bass in all waters, from the unbroken yvilds of Canada 

 to the primitive forests of Northern Michigan. The Jakes 

 where they tnos abound, wherever found, are invariably 

 gems of transparent purity, and are almost as inviting to 

 the appreciative eye because of their picturesque surround- 

 ings as because of' what they hold for the angler. Wherever 

 I have gone, whether to the remetu North or to the far West, I 

 have never failed to find what I went for, plenty fish, good 



sport, magnificent scenery, mental repose and physical re- 

 cuperation. It is a pastime that gave moral fibre to the 

 apostles and .'esthetic delectation to the simple wise men of 

 all ages." 



To this, of course, all present gave cheerful response, as 

 will all others who live virtuous lives and like to go a-tishing. 

 " G. D. 



WITH HACKLES AND GENTLES. 



VI. 



"When this old rod was new, 



Our fathers bvctl like men; 

 They wrought their toil with joy, 



O'er all their native plain ; 

 And tnuiTily foamed the ale, 



Which each goodwifo could brew, 

 For all untaxed It ran 



When this old rod was new." 

 "But time hath wrought sad change, 



A change the land shall rue- 

 No keeper marred the sport 



When this old rod was new." 



r pHERE is a path ethic and, oft, pitiful side to every sport, 

 X pastime, or joy of this earthly pilgrimage. It were 

 vain to attempt to portray this — the daily experience of 

 every heart — but there are. moods of the mind and occasions, 

 when it thrusts itself upon one like an intrusion and half 

 unwelcome guest. Then it is that the thoughts "hark back," 

 as a huntsman would say, and begin to run riot in the by-ways 

 of the past, 



"When this old rod was new," is to the angler a very 

 Suggestive sentence. It may not he as old as that celebrated 

 in the quaint English song, from which I have quoted, but 

 with it may- be connected associations and scenes that are 

 very pleasant to recall in quiet, thoughtful hours. Joint by 

 joint, as it were, we put the rod together until its tapering 

 length extends far into other days and o'ershadows, but for 

 its talismanic powers, well-nigh forgotten waters. 



"When this old rod was new" perchance, we made with it 

 the first cast with, our first hackle for the first trout; it may be 

 coeval with our experience as an angler, and has served us 

 faithfully ever since that prime, notable essay. AVe were 

 younger "then than now, to be sure, but we forget our age 

 when we. touch or when we behold that venerable rod, and 

 if we brace our nerves to feel its lissome spring, a youthful 

 tremor is communicated to us from head to foot. Its tip 

 may not. be quite so jauntily prim as in its earlier days, but 

 its deviation is suggestive of the trials and experiences it has 

 passed bravely through. Iu some way, in some form or 

 other, Time marks everything and everybody with his keen 

 tooth — who. or what, so staunch, or impregnable, as to be 

 unscathed V 



There, snug in its case and dust-covered, over those 

 book-shelves, may be seen my old rod. It has been on the 

 "retired list" for some years, for, although able to do duty, 

 I have, of late, fancied a lighter one than it is and— must I 

 confess it? one of more elaborate finish. However, I love it 

 none the less, and e'en while using my new rod, I often 

 think, with pride, of its prompt and efficient action in every 

 crisis of piscatorial experience. 



In days agone, when far away from any fishing waters, 

 I have been wont, to take it down, and without doors to give 

 it a bit of sun and air. Barring honorable scars (which are 

 uo bliaiiishesi. il. is now in eon, li.'inn for ivmm.ioioIo service 



(always provided a careful and judicious person is at the 

 butl thereof), and is not wholly destitute of a smartness, a 

 pretty gleam of polish, that once disiinguished it and made 

 dull, country eyes to open wide when it went afield with 

 me. "lang syne."'' To me each scratch and spot upon it is 

 a record of some event, of some "moving accident by flood 

 and field," that reminds me of the days when 

 "My bounding heart from care was free. 

 My cheeks with health did glow, 

 My float went dancing down the Lea, 

 A long time a-go," 



Not so very long time ago doth it seem when I have it in 

 my hand and let it lead my thoughts untrammeled with th e 

 present. My r heart is not a day older than on the morning 

 when I first heard the click of its reel and saw the line run 

 out through its rings. 'Tis an excellent thing to keep the 

 heart young w ben the hair and moustache grow r gray and 

 yOU cannot, walk a matter of a score of miles so easily as 

 when you carried less weight, than thirteen stone between 

 cap and gaiters. Keep the heart young by all means! 



As a kind of consort and honorable companion to my old 

 rod I keep an old fly book near by; they have taken many 

 a journey together and 'twere a shame to part them. Turn- 

 ing from the one to the other what I fail to remember by the 

 rod 1 find recorded on the parchment of the book — dates, 

 weight of fish and number, names of comrades and the 

 waters fished arc all here, and bring vividly to mind the 

 scenes of other days. 



This book never met, the fate of others — a drop into the 

 water at a critical moment, a soaking in a down-pour, or 

 the ignoble fate of being lost, altogether. No, here it lies, 

 in a safe and warm corner, and ready for use at a moment's 

 warning, as the ordinary tackle or outfit of a sportsman 

 ever should be. 



There are times I wot of in tin-- life of an augler when a 

 glance at rod, creel or line, at gaff, fly or pocket book, is an 

 inspiration, a necessity or a comfort. One or the other 

 recalls to the mind less jading and perplexing times than 

 the present, and he goes from the object rested and refreshed 

 with his glance backward. Like th'e old angler who — 

 * * * * "bad the fashion every year 



Of going to the brook. 

 With rod in hand, and creel on back, 

 To get a farewell look," 



1 love to take, now and then, a "farewell look," as it 

 were, of a favorite line, or fly, ere I stow it away during 

 the close season. What, may happen ere I use it again? 

 Indeed, I may never use it more, and the thoughts range 

 hither and yon for an angling friend dear and true enough 

 to fall heir to so esteemed a treasure! 



Ileighho! my pipe is out and 1 will end my reflections ou 

 the "old rod."' fence to thee, and may no 'unworthy hand 

 ever clutch, no ungentle heart ever love thee, most" vener- 

 able angle! O. W. R. 



Ulack Bass nm ENatAaJD, — Mr; Silk writes us that his 

 trip with the black bass has been quite a successful one. 

 He promises us the particulars of it as soon as he gets an 

 opportunity. 



