Tak. 4. 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



449 



never yet made » bud man worse, while it has made a great 

 many good men better. T admit Unit nil anglers are not saints, 

 but I insist tUal they would be less saintly if they were not 

 anglers. For the recreation brings its votaries into close and 

 eons'ant contact with whatever is sublime and beautiful and 

 exalting in nature, and no one can long hold eoiumunion and 

 loving fellowship with the thing created without acquiring 

 a higher appreciation of the beneficence, wisdom and power 

 of it's Creator." 



"There is," 1 suggested, "one heantif ul thing about angling 

 which is well worth taking into account : one never wearies 

 of it, Other pleasures grow stale or insipid, but tlu's acquires 

 new fascinution with every new experience. This is the 

 verdict of all who, 'e'en down to old age,' have secured 

 mental rest, and physical vigor from the practice of the gentle 

 art, which good Sir Henry* Wotton found to be 'rest to his 

 mind, a eheerer of spirit's, a divei ter of sadness, a calmer 

 of unquiet thoughts, a moderator oT passion', a procurer of 

 content! dness. begetting pence and patience in those wdio 

 profess and practice it.' 



"1 have a friend who is the \ cry type and embodiment of 

 a happy angler and an honest man. 



'Ace sits with decent eauee, upon bis visage, 

 Aud worthily becomes his silver locks; 

 He wears the marks of many years well spent, 

 uf virtue, I rut h well tried, and wise experienced 



• 'He has fished for fifty years, and is to-day even more eager 

 to take his place on angling waters Ihan when he first felt 

 the ecstatic thrill which comes to all who have ever had the 

 good fortune to kill a salmon. Here is what he says to me 

 is n recent note : 



'■at Home. Dec. 12, 131 

 ■■My d.-nr p.i 



"What has become of you J Rave you apalu been playing (Mucin- 

 natus on your Weston nineh, or are you simply digging yourself out 

 from beneath the political avalanche untli-r whieli you and all of 



■hall have (D. V 

 our faithful hen 



coming of tl 



go a-flshing, where 



•Soft whispers r 



Aud mountains 



"What a blessed time v 



lakes mapped out for us I 



man has ever yet- cast a tly I I have 'drea 



for I know what they must be from wh 

 em. Husband your vitality, mj 

 i make the circuit. 

 intha yet before the 91th of Jul 

 y seventieth birthday, and as 

 Its, 1 you cannot greatly boast 



•th after the water brooks, so do I jiant for the 

 of the singing of birds when it wilt ho right to 



two of 

 be abb 



passed c 



But, 



sain 



nd rep* 



along the leafy wools. 



ring floods.' 

 I exploring the beautiful 

 ■bman. wherein no white 

 n the night' about them: 

 yfl have already seen of 

 ir fellow,'tbat, you may 



,e! Meanwhile I will have 

 >-ou, old chap, are 'there or 

 >ver your humble servant. 

 '.nd me to a lusty old age 

 lebsafed to us— for which 

 o but for the rest, reenpenr 

 s from our annual visits to 



youth 



us have had vi 

 add it have been 



have come to i 



s in mine, if you please, for polities at present form no 

 part of my mental ailment. I simply keep the run of tilings— feel- 

 ing very much as Bret Tfnrle's Vbner Dean of 'The Society of the 

 Stanislaus" felt: 

 'Then Abner Dean, of Angel's, raised a point Of order, when 

 V cbunlc * f old red sandstone struck bral in the abdomen. 

 And be smiled a kind of sickly smile, mil curie.l up on the floor, 



Aral Hi" .ul.seijiieut pi -'eiliee'-i :i,i.-i'i-si ,..,' : .,. M , : ., ,,-,,„.,., 



■As ever and forever, yours, H." 



"The lakes referred to in the foregoing note- are trout lakes 

 in the vicinity of the salmon river myself and friend an- 

 nually visit. *YVo had heard of lliem but could find no one 

 who "had ever visited all of them. Last summer we re- 

 quested our local sen itor to hunt them up and make a map 

 of them This he has done, and I anticipate as much 

 pleasure in visiting them as 1 do in fishing our favorite pools 

 for salmon— not alone because we are sure to find them 

 full of trout, but because we have found the two or three 

 of the group we have already seen perfect gems of beauty. 

 From my very first visit to the woods I have had a passion 

 to bunt up new places, and make side excursions whenever 

 1 c'cmld hear ol anything worth visiting. To do so often 

 invoiced haul work, but that fact simply added to the fas- 

 cination of the habit, and, I am inclined to believe, has 

 contributed to the huge measure of vigor which has con- 

 tinued with me through all these decades. Now that lhave 

 reached my three-score years and ten, 1 l 

 pass over rough places or climb steep hills as sprightlj 

 the lona ago, but i can do both passably well still, i 

 no abatement in the. delight these adventures raid th 

 ant' places thej reveal afford me. indeed, I am I 

 that my fondness lor them has not even outru 

 for the" excitement derived from the more mati 

 connected with angling. Of this, how ever. 1 



able to 



id find 



i pleas- 



cvery 

 nianv 



haste a 



my passion 

 ial incidents 

 mi sure, that 

 exploration reveals to me new beauties ; that 

 jtly oils of scenery that in my former greater 

 re "passed by unnoticed, now attract my attention 

 met excite my admiration. Whether this is because we be- 

 come more observant as we advance, in years, or because 

 our tastes, like our virtues and our vices, grow by what 

 they feed upon, 1 cannot, say. But this I know, that 1 look 

 forward to no phase of the pastime with more glowing an- 

 ticipation than to these delightful rambles." 



"f notice." said one of our coterie, "that you speak of 

 yourself aud friend in a way that leaves (be impression that 

 you two make up your entire party in these annual excur- 

 sions, is that so f 



"Yes, not because we are unsociable or exclusive, but 

 because we have belli bern taught by experience that the 

 fewer cogs the less friction. I have known the start of a 

 party of live Or six delayed for a week because some one of 

 the number was not quite ready; and not infrequently the 

 equanimity of a whole, camp is disturbed because som'e one 

 wishes 1)0 go when others do not. or to stay when others 

 wish to 'fold up their tents, like the Arabs, and silent steal 

 away.' fu a crowd, some are night birds, who never care 

 to 'go home 'till morning, 1 or to bed either, while others 

 deem sleep and regular hours as necessary to comfort, in the 

 woods US at home. Both classes may enjoy themselves 

 equally well, but. though they may not say so, each in their 

 heait.s"wish ''tother dear charmers away.' It is best, there- 

 fore, when it can be done, that only those whose tempera- 

 ments and home, habits are similar" should camp together, 

 that, as III tie a possible should interpose to mar the pleasure 

 of these forest visits. My first experiences were in crowds. 

 Later On, the number of my angling companions was 

 gradually curtailed, until, during recent years, two of US, 

 whose ideas of comfort and of limes and seasons are always 

 in harmony, constitute a 'party' as happy and contented us 

 twb tlrbps of water blender! into one.' " ' 



"But," said my questioner, "how do you manage to pass 

 the evenings': You must get. talked out' after a while, with 

 only two of you to contribute to the common stock." 



"That would be true if my friend was. like some fellows 1 

 htlow, who are really talked out' before they begin lo talk 

 at all, because they never have anything either useful or 

 edifying to say." 



"'That's all very well, but for my part, when I am in the 

 woods 1 don't care to be very 'edifying' myself nor to be 

 very greatly edified by others, if by 'edifying' yon menu 

 only such conversation as would be expected from a party 

 of monks in a cloister or of a bevy of snvans in a salon." 



"JSor do I. for 1 don't go to the WOOds myself to be super 

 latively grave, but to be innocently happy." My companion 

 is it it fait in all the intricacies of the law, 'in all the mysteries 

 of the sciences, and. like all the graduates of Old" Union 

 when its historical President was at its head, be is as pro- 

 found, in the classics as he is familiar with current events. 

 There is no subject about which he cannol converse 

 gravely, if the subject demands it, or humorously if other- 

 wise. And as for myself, ask him, aud if his friendship 

 does not induce him lo hide my faults, he. will tell you that, 

 while lounging around our camp-fire, I talk 'an infinite 

 deal of nonsense; more than any man in all Venice.' No; 

 there is neither wearisome sameness nor somnolent gravity 

 in our party of two during the restful hours between early 

 gloaming and our night retreat. If our conversation is not 

 always what would please a fool if it is never what would 

 disgust a scholar." 



"loan very well believe that: but it has always-seemed 

 to me that at least a third party is necessary to give piquancy 

 to personal jestS; for how can one laugh at his own joke, 

 or how can the other fellow be expected to laugh when be 

 is its subject. A looker on in such an encounter is » mighty 

 stimulant to one's wit." 



"As to that, we are never without subjects that provoke 

 laughter; but we always find it pleasaiiter to laugh wilh 

 than at each other. ' He is walking on thin ice and 

 making a dangerous experiment with assumed friendship 

 who habitually indulges in either personal or practical jokes. 

 Me must be something more than a saint who always re- 

 ceives them with equanimity, and he a great deal worse 

 than an average sinner who, having a giant's strength in 

 that direction, persistently uses it like a 'giant, .No 'prac- 

 tical joker' ever long retains the hearty respect of his friends, 

 nor their hearty friendship either. A persistent punster is 

 less offensive. * He is only a bore; the other fellow is a nuis 



"Talking of practical jokes, "you remember the 'good 

 thing' played on Mark Antony when he was fishing with 

 Cleopatra: 



Clmruiwn— '" 'Twas merry when 



You wager'd on yot 



Did hang a salt fish 



With fervency drew 



' ' 'Tony must have been in a 



then to have received the joke 



a miserly sort of a fellow who v 



on the. brink of the best 'sprin 



circuit, in order to retain its 



for his unsportsmanlike behavi 



bribed to launch a hemlock bu: 



two minutes, at a point Just ab< 



and while the astonished angler 



gate, another chap took possess) 



day. When told of the joke, instead of enjoying it he was 

 very angry, and 1 doubt whether he had a hearty laugh in 

 a twelve-month." 



"The danger of practical jokes," I interposed, "is that 

 they are generally aimed at the most vulnerable point in the 

 victim's harness. For this reason, as in the case just cited, 

 they cut, because they are somehow felt to be deserved. A 

 proverbially thrifty chap would not feel half so much 

 offended by being" presented with the empty shell of a 

 sucked egg as would a spendthrift who had 'wasted his sub- 

 stance in riotous living.' " 



You remember the. case of " our practical joker 



had begun to remark, when he was interrupted by the most 

 xeniplary of our number, who said to him: 

 "Now," .Teenies, my good fellow. 1 see what you are 

 driving at. You know only too well how you always fasci- 

 nate me when you draw your long bow, and you know just 

 as well that my time is up; and yet you are deliberately and 

 with coldly concocted malice, trying to beguile me into lor- 

 getfulness'and thereby subject me to a 'curtain lecture' when 

 I get home. But yoti can't play any such practical joke on 

 any more then you could humbug me by telling me 1 

 hitched to a log when 1 felt the twitch of a salmon. 

 So, 'go to' old man, and good night to all of you." G. I), 



r angling; when your diver 

 on his hoolc, which he 

 v up." 



i sweet-tempered mood just 

 complacently. I once knew 

 would almost, literally sleep 

 ■-hoL within a live tniUs 

 monopoly. To punish him 

 ior, one of the "guides was 

 sh upon the current every 

 spring-hole; 

 lo investi- 

 and held it through tin 



MY FIRST FLY ROD. 



ItEMIN'lS'CE.M'ES OF' Tilt: RANGEEKY LAKES. — ll 



U 



Y\/TLYT is true of other pastimes is pre-eminently 

 li true of angling. No other affords so many inci- 

 dents that it. is a pleasure to remember and a greater pleasure 

 to recount to appreciative and sympathizina listeners." So 

 says Mr. Oeorge Dawson in his pleasant "Winter Talks on 

 Summer Pastimes" in Forest and Stueam, aud it is well 

 The readers oj Forest and Streaai are "appreciative 

 and sympathizing listeners," and I must confess to both the 

 "plea-sure" and .'he- 'greater pleasure." 



Tiie interval between my first trout, caught with a tape 

 string and a pin hoolc, and my first fly rod, "was a long one. 

 The art of tly-tishiug was certainly in its infancy, if not un 

 born in Maine in my boyhood. I do not remember even 

 seeing a tly rod. or hearing of an angler who used one. till 

 the border laud of young-man-hood was well nigh passed. 

 After the tape string and pin hook came the alder "pole," 

 as light and straight as one eight or nine feet long could be 

 found, furnished with a twelve foot lishline aud trout hook 

 from the village store. This was kept in readiness on the 

 shed beam, high up out. of the reach of younger brothers and 

 sisters, and when its owner was tired of lessons, or longed 

 for the open air, the babhlinir brook, and sympathetic soli- 

 tude, it would be taken down, the brooK sought, all the 

 well-known little pools under bank or log or stone carefully 

 approached, and almost always the virtue of effort, if not of 

 skill, was rewarded. 



This brook ran near my father's house, and so was easy 

 of access, and to this fact is owing greallv the growth and 

 culture of the angler's love in me. If I had but an hour to 

 spare I could yield to the allurement, if inclined. To this, 

 too, is owing that a charm was added to schoolboy days. 

 ... bid sometimes is wanting, and, I think, u health to body 

 ami mind, which is sometimes nomly or quite BRGriflcod ill 



the service of early sillily and discipline. The trotil brook, 



Irony add, had almost an equal rival fa the salt water bay 

 into which it found its way. This bay was nearly land-locked ■ 

 a jutting point leaving only a narrow paBsaue for outgoing 

 and incoming coasters, and Ms rambling shores were charm- 

 ingly indented with little coves, while its surface was 

 broken by a small island and several large rocks, which, 

 while they made navigation difficult, added picl.uresquene.ss 

 and afforded capital opportunities for cuuuer and other 

 small fishing. Memory has stored away the experience of 

 niauy a pleasant day spent in rowing and fishing and ex- 

 ploring the shore in' that hay, and often brings them back in 

 bright light. A Cooper's Virgil, still on my shelf, was 

 -' i "i' - i ' not because 'it was much 



loved or highly appreciated, but because if was 8 deal 

 pleasanlcr to con a task reeilitms Bub kgvti'iu. (•<:•>. Or 

 .in' id ii'iiuiiiij pint in the cool breeze, than in the 

 attic chamber which served for both sleeping ro0 m and 

 study at. home. 



In the course of timethe alder pole gave place 1,0 ■ \ ejfl 



ash brook rod. and equipped with this I set forth one July 

 morning, one of a part y of live, equally Ion rs of the angle 

 and equally guiltless of any knowledge of the fly. for the 

 unknown region of the Rongelcy hakes. AVe h.i.l" heard of 

 them and their famous Iroul, and our bosoms were big with 

 expectations. The train dropped us at noon at Bethel, and 

 alter dinner, having procured a carriage anil driver, we 

 were forthwith on our further way. the road makes its 

 way down Bethel Hill, along the course of the Andi'oscog- 

 gin to Bear River, crosses Bear River, follows up its 

 left bank clear to its source in the Grafton Mountains, 

 turns through the Notch under the nolt'e brow of Speckled 

 Face, and so on to Upton, at the foot of UmbagOg, The 

 mere mention of these names a.ud this slight tracing of the 

 course, will call up in the minds of many a reader of Foil- 



est a>o> Stkeam as beautiful scenery as can be found of 



its kind, and the visits to Screw Augur Falls and the jail- 

 natural curiosities which of course niusl be seen the first 

 time one passes that way— and more, the pleasantries of 

 jest and sous', and a thousand little things which wake the 

 laugh and beguile the tedium of the way. Our driver look 

 us up apparently as a party of pleasure-seeking, easy -going 

 fellows, as I he word goes, and he was no: far out of the 

 way; but it led him to a liberty of tongue which. "was not 

 altogether agreeable. One of lis at lust -u-iresied that he 

 should anchor sin.- of his bard words, lie did. and then 

 Shortly Struct up a Methodist, tune, and kept it going most 

 of the time the rest of the way. We concluded whejt he 

 set us down he thought ho had along a party of Methodist 

 parsons. 



Uplon to tea. Mosquitoes and black flies! How thick 

 they were, and we were unprovided with any defense. We 

 were sheltered very well as long as we kept to the verandah, 

 behind the smoke of the tmudge, hut one step away from 

 that and we were helpless victims. Cambridge River— the 

 large brook dignified with that name— Which tumbles under 

 the bridge, just ic front of the Lake House, and then winds 

 and twists through the meadow some three miles quite river 

 like to the lake— was then still abounding with trout. Alas! 

 it is not so now. There one could be sure of trout, right 

 out of the water, for breakfast, if he would get tip an hour 

 beforehand and go out and catch them. Now, if he should 

 tn the experiment, he would get vile pickerel instead, and 

 enough of them. Then, however, the Irout, were still there, 

 and the desire to capture a few after supper could not be re- 

 sisted by two of our number. Their success was good, but 

 so. alsO, Was tin- success of the mosquitoes aud black flies. 

 Those two men were sadder men that, night for their fun, 

 aud for days afterward. It was, however, a lesson in sea- 

 son, and we all wended our way duly, per steamer Diamond, 

 to Oedar Stump, and the carry to Middle Dam. provided 

 with that delightful unguent, "bu- and oil. One thing we 

 first heard at Upton, and that was that the best: way to take 

 trout in that region was with the fly, and there my eyes 

 first rested upon the slight and flexible form of a fly rod, ■ 

 with ils adjuncts of reel, braided silk line of forty or fifty 

 yards, gut 'leader, and stretcher, and dropper flies. 1 took 

 it. in my hand, gently tried its flexibility, and wondered how 

 a trout bigger than' a tingcrling could be got out of the 

 water with it. I have seen it since- that rod — ill the hands 

 of its skillful owner, whom I have met many times at the 

 "tristing^ place." land manv a noble fish. 



That Monday was a hot'day. The water was high, and 

 the Diamond landed us at. Cedar Stump itself Tin., told 

 us that the carry was but four ami a half miles long to 

 Angler's Retreat at Middle Dam. But Bonny, the old horse, 

 was not there, and our luggage, though mostly left to be 

 brought by the horse in the afternoon," was somethings and 

 though, too. the heaviest was taken by our guide, yet be- 

 came heavy before the end was reached, and the legs, un- 

 used to any such travel on such a road as that then was — it. 

 is not much better now — ached hi every muscle. It was 

 voted that to declare that cany lo be but four and a half 

 miles long, was a cheat and a "fraud. 



Middle Dam Camp as we then found it is pictured in 

 Farrar's Guide Book for 1881— two log cabins in line north 

 and south, separated by a four-foot passageway-, and a frame 

 cabin at right ana'les with and touching corner lo corner 

 the southerly one at its southwest angle.' The north cabin 

 was cook house and cook's quarters. The second was— the 

 third part of if— dining aud sitting-room, where savory 

 trout were eaten, aud in the evening, around the great Open 

 Franklin stove, in which most often a cheerful tire was 

 blazing, required by the cool night air, let the month be 

 what if would, stories were (old, jests were utlirod, and 

 peals of laughter poured forth; the other two-thirds by 

 sleeping rooms. The former building also wus occupied by 

 Sleeping looms. A plai I'ui in cMeude'd along the water side. 

 of the two latter cabins, the favorite gathering place for 

 chatting and smoking after meals, and especially in the 

 evening light, when tiie day's sport was over. 

 . 1 love lo linger in thought over the old camp as it then 

 was, for with its retirement, its splendid fishing vicinily, and 

 the society of genial anglers, which it gathered, it had a fas- 

 uation for me for years, which now t am sorry to sav is 

 me, aud I fear no oilier place can have Then no Steamer 

 xed the waters of Welokenuebacook. Mollychunkciuuuk. 

 Mnoselucmeguntio, «;ud no mere tourists found their way 

 thither. No mail even found its way thither, evecpl as 

 brougat in over the I mbagog aud the cany on its semi- 

 veeklv arrival al Upton. No,w," the log cabins are stables 

 H workshops of the company who have rebuilt the dam, 



nd just above stands a two story hotel. 

 Hotel, indeed— 1 hale the name as applied lo the buildinu'R 



put up around the lakes for anglers and tourisls' ac 



lion. Rough quarters they arc al best, and must be so. 

 Why not i ben still cull them camps? II, is a far moic suitable 



