FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Atoubt 4, 1881. 



pioneer guest at the Fairohild House— a most homelike 

 hostelrie, by the -way— in Hammondsport, K. Y., a little 

 hamlet, which dabbles its feet in the lovely waters, of Keuka 

 Lake, and is just as delightful a place for jour money as you 

 could find, only it is, a'as 1 four hundred miles from Broad- 

 way. Seth of the rods docs not fit my fancy sketch of the 

 specimen first guest at all, for he has known every one 

 around here for thirty years or more, and he never saw the 

 drop-curtain of the Grand Operallouse, and is too simply 

 genuine to know how to feel theatrical under any provoca- 

 tion; while to the inhabitants of this quiet, far-away section 

 he is "a bigncr man than old Grant" all the year round. 

 Everything was ready for the fray in fine style. Two enor- 

 mous speckled beauties, weighing 12 pounds apiece, flanked 

 the hotel register on the office counter to greet the coining 

 guests. Indeed, one of the quests, Hiss PanBy, vowed they 

 were made of rubber, and sluek surreptitious hairpins in 

 both, but was confounded and convinced when she recog- 

 nized the identical pin-holes in a choice morsel on her plate 

 at supper. 



Next morning very early we set out to try our luck. Im- 

 agine t.liis glass-clear lake* stretching away and curving in 

 and out for twenty-two miles — a nice sliui beauty of & lake, 

 only one mile bust measure. It is girdled by many-breasted, 

 motherly, softly sloping hills, mantled with six thousand 

 acres of lovely vineyards smiling at the sky. Imagine the 

 soft sweet air and the misty haze, not hiding but enhancing 

 the beauty of the early morning, and lending it a more mystic 

 loveliness becoming its splendor, as a veil becomes a bride. 

 Imagine a great quiet and hush as if all the roaring citfej 

 were dead or not yet horn— no sound save the lip-lip, lap- 

 lapping of the water flirting gently with the flower-spangled 

 shore. Imagine the jaunty little sleamer Lulu cuddling close 

 to the dock, "and painted so smartly in divers colors that she 

 looks like a bright shoulder-knot on the gray silk garment of 

 the lake. She is now coyly waiting to take us away to the 

 happy fishintr grounds far down in" the fertile loins of old 

 Keuka. Imagine, I fay imagine, seventeen hard-boiled eggs, 

 twelve sandwiches and a huce rhubarb pie in the lunch- 

 basket— and please don't forget, the salt nor the tackle nor the 

 waterproof?, pillows, shawls and other impedimenta. We 

 are all read}-. Suddenly the shrillest and most unexpected 

 shriek you ever heard leaps from the tiny throttle of the 

 Lulu, wounding the holy silence grievously and reverberat- 

 ing along the shore in piteous echoes, as if every hill held 

 captive a baby Lulu and all were wailing "Mother !" Off at 

 last! All the natives assembled on the dock to wish us luck, 

 lady friends waving hlue veils from the piazza and their 

 gudemen smiling in the doorway, « bile the white apron of 

 the waitt -' shines spotless in the dining-room window. 



We lard at Urbana dock and look at. the famous wine nian- 

 ufactorv or fermentory which sends us the famous " Gold 

 Seal and lovely, sweet, insidions still wines that taste like 

 nectar, and are soft us dew and seduclive as a siren's breath. 

 We are offered the freedom of the cellar in a tumbler, and 

 there is quite a lively discussion as to whether, after all, there 

 would not be more solid enjoyment to the square minute to 

 be got out of the day by going over to the factory and seeing 

 the bottling process, etc. /than could be extracted from dwad- 

 ling in a rowboat, waiting for surly fish to bite. The super- 

 intendent is very haudsome and gallant, and the ladies stren- 

 uously wish to stay, but Seth says, doggedly ! " We came to 

 fish, and we're going to fish" That settles it. Good-bye, "Gold 

 Seal," thou many-medalled nectar ; there isn't a headache in a 

 dozen bottles of you! Conversation gallops apace as the fair 

 hills glide by us, unrolling their beauty as they pass, all gar- 

 landed with delicate pale vines, like an elegant roll of rich-rib- 

 bed staff embroidered in every hue and shade of green, from 

 the faintest yellowish tinge to the darkest melancholy myrtle ; 

 the pattern broken at intervals by stripes of dun-colored cul- 

 tivation and seamed by little clefts or gullies worn by rush- 

 ing mountain streams which in the spring hasten to hide 

 their sorrows in the lake. One tiny stream, whose trouble 

 was deeper than the rest, weeps languidly to-day, ami it is 

 beautiful to see the silver tear-drops trickling faintly and 

 monotonously from rock to rock. 



Alice's note-book bristles with facts and figures. Pansy is 

 gloating on the pretty bait. We can hear her earnestly dis- 

 cussing the vexed question of sawbelly versus whitebait, 

 "You" know, Mr. Green, as 1 was saying, Greenwich is iu 

 England, you know ; a place where they make latitudes and 

 longitudes and tilings, and every one goes there in the season 

 to eat whitebait, and it is counted awfully tlelicious and aw- 

 fully swell; and I do assure you they are exactly like these, 

 so please don't call the dear- little things ' sawbellies ' any 

 more. It is a perfectly horrid name anyhow. Why, don't 

 you know even prime ministers go to Greenwich to eat 

 whitebait?" This last clincher ought to have settled the 

 matter, but Seth stuck to his point and wouldn't say white- 

 bait, though in deference to his antagonist he called them 

 alewives for the rest of the day. All of thirty years before 

 he had caught white — , no, saw — , no, alewives, in a little 

 lake in the interior, and for the past eight years there's 

 been any quantity of them here in Keuka Lake, and they are 

 the beat bait in the world for salmon-trout, Nobody knows 

 how they came or what their pedigree is, or anything about 

 their relatives. They are poor little finny foundlings, ami 

 from some undiscovered cause hundreds of them die. and 

 every day you can see their cold corpses floating like shining 

 scum on' the surface of the lake. 



The captain's fish stories have been growing out of all pro- 

 portions. He has now arrived at the point where the "pho- 

 tographer feller over there in Pen Yan " made a picture of 

 the boy" who caught an eight-pound fish on the end of his 

 nose! Sure enciugh, there was the photograph, and sure 

 enough, the boy had a nose ! Evidence can go no further. 

 This boy is supposed to be in a boat with bis mother— mark 

 that well, gentlemen of the jury— with his mother near the 

 shore. She is fishing. Her back is turned to her boy, who 

 is leaning over the edge of the boat paddling his little hands 

 in the hlue waters of the fair Keuka. A splash ; a yell ; 

 mother turns round to find a large fat eight-pound trout, 

 squirming in the bottom of the boat; and her sou standing up, 

 bellowing, with a bloody nose ! " The name of the boy and 

 the boat, and the. age of the infant, please; the dale of the 

 occurrence, the color of the mother's hair, and was her dress 

 cut with a basque or a polonaise ?" hui riedly demands Alice, 

 with pencil poised and note-book gaping, while Pansy sar- 

 donically hums a line or two of a once popular song, ending, 

 "It was the cat; oh, yes, it was the cat." Wilb uuction 

 the captain dwells on the gory details : "The hull front of 

 his shirt was all blood. Oh, you should have seen that boy's 

 shirt!" 



We disembarked and Lulu steams away. Now for three 

 sultry, silent hours in the rowboat. Jock's coat off now and 

 the glory of his yellow gloves forever gone to limpness ; Mr, 

 Fish Oommissioner quiet and watchful; Pansy furtively 



cramming out of Bhick's " White Wings," so as to know the 

 correct thing to ask when anybody gets a bite. She has seen 

 " shove her the but t" repeated scores nf times iu this de- 

 licious yacluing idyl, but an, direction on Mrs. Cleopatra's 

 needle would be equally intelligible to her. and she is 

 ashamed to ask for information The others nurse their 

 fishing-rod". Alices face is clouded, fur she has forgotten 

 the name of the game Constable who was shot at from the 

 shore by a fish po , cher last autumn, though she took down 

 the dimensions of the bullet hole iu the deck of the Lulu, and 

 even stuck her little finger iu it with awe. The constables 

 name shall never fro down to posterity, not even when some- 

 body finds her note-book some day in a Sixth aveuue ear, 

 With lt(3 wild muddle of memoranda of table-linen, fists of 

 things to buy at Macy's, things to he put in ihe campher 

 trunk, notes ot travel, receipts for puff-paste, bits of song, the 

 iceman's new address, when Mary's mouth is up, infallible 

 sunburn wash, etc. One of our gentlemen secures the .first 

 bite, and of course every oue in the boat kindly instructs him 

 how to land Ihe fish, the ladies standing up and endangering 

 their lives in their eagerness. Jock rows rapidly. " Reel in ! 

 reel in !" cries Scih; " steady, steady !" " Give him plemyof 

 line!" "Don't jerk!" " That's it, keep it. stiff !'' "Don't 

 be too rough!" "She's a fighter !'' " Paster, faster !" "Slow, 

 slow !" — were a few of the directions showered volubly on this 

 genial novice, who has only been catching fish for about forty 

 odd years or so. Deliberately and scientifically our fisher- 

 man shows his skill. The line is nearly all reeled in. Seth 

 has the scap-net ready in his hand for the final capture. 

 "Acts kind of queer," quietly comments the observant Jock. 

 " Hurrah ! haul him iu, haul him iu I" He, she or it is hauled 

 in, and proves to be a fine, healthy-, inoffensive-looking stick 

 about five feet long, the hook embedded iu its soft bark. 

 Amid the general laughter poor Pansy's face wears a comical 

 look of woe. In the intense excitement of the moment she 

 had nevei' once thought of saying, "Shove her the butt, !" 

 This was a great chagrin to a young woman whose talk is of 

 a deep navy blue for weeks after she has been out on the bay 

 for a day, and who is apt, to call her bosom friends "land-lub- 

 bers " when she returns from a visit to the schoulship. How- 

 ever, she landed a five-pound trout herself almost immedi- 

 ately, which was a slight consolation. A native, trolling 

 along patiently, passes near our boat. "What luck?" 

 "Didn't have a bite!" "Don't sa-ay — nuther did I, not a 

 sign of a bite," and we rowed along in parallel paths. Seth 

 and the passing fisher simultaneously feel something jerk at 

 the cud of their lines. "Guess you'vegot a bite." "Hullo, 

 so have I." Seth reels in. The casual person reels in. Every- 

 body directs, encourages, scolds and " bosses the job," as be- 

 fore. Again does Jock mutter, "Acts kind of queer." Dead- 

 lock. Each with lifted rod poised stiffly, and the lines reeled 

 taught to the verge of snapping. "You've touched bottom, 

 perhaps." " No, it's mor'n 200 feet deep, here, and I've only 

 paid out 50 feet of line." Awful pause, after which the 

 lynx-eyed Pansy sings at the of her voice, shrilly, "Oh, 

 you've tangled my line in your line, you bet," which was 

 strictly true. Next day Seth caught nineteen beauties. 

 Weighing from three and a half to twelve pounds, but one of 

 our party beat him by rive fish and four pounds. Seth says 

 now he doesn't believe in going out fishing with ladies any- 

 how. M. T. F. 



The tag-end of an unofficial note received from Mr. Green 

 yesterday reads thus: "Caught seventeen salmon-trout in 

 Keuka Lake yesterday. There were no ladies in the boat, I" 



POST-PRANDIAL 'POSSUM. 



Owl's Covk, Ark., July 38, 1881. 

 Editor Fa/rest ami Stream: 



1 find I am indebted to you to the extent of a letter iu 

 ihe nature of a personal explanation, or apology. You must 

 bear in mind that I am away up here in the Ozark Moun- 

 tains— "Hosting Mountings," as they are sometimes termed 

 by the natives— in search of health. One day late iu June I 

 received a letter from you, asking " How they do it iu Ar- 

 kansas." I did not understaud the question, and of course 

 could not answer it. It occasioned a good deal of perplexity. 

 At first, I had a suspicion that it might relate to a discussion 

 concerning certain disreputable fishes of Northern lakes and 

 streams, who flap Ihe fly into the mouth with the tail. But 

 reflection satisfied me it could not be that. Our fishes are 

 more sedate, will hardly take a fly at all, and when they do, 

 they do it, in a straightforward way. They do not use their 

 tails to fill their mouths. Then possibly it might mean, how 

 we protect our game ; but we don't do that at all. As to any 

 other question whatever, it can only be said that we are not 

 agreed among ourselves, and do it in various ways, each ac- 

 cording to the best light he has. 



A later mail brought me a bundle of back numbers of the 

 Fokest and Stkeam, retailed from home; and now, when 

 it is too late, I find that I have missed the opportunity to sit 

 down to a dish of 'possum with such distinguished compauy 

 as Senator Garland, "Guyon," and the iuiinitable Ceil. 

 "Bob" Crockett— too late even to sit down to the second 

 table with the " children and niggers ." Too bad i 



For your own private information, however, I will give you 

 the result of years of experience boiled down f:r if there is 

 one thing above another which an editor ought to possess, 

 it is accurate information. Now, in catching a " 'possum " 

 you need a dog. But that is too long, and life is too short. 

 You should, if in Arkansas, go to a persimmon orchard, for 

 in the production of this fruit, this State ranks second in the 

 Union— the supremacy of North Carolina in that industry 

 being, of course, beyond dispute. Moreover, when the per- 

 simmon is in season the 'possum is ripe, and vie,, versa; the 

 hard frost which softens and removes the " pucker " from the 

 persimmon, improves and brings out the good qualities of the 

 •possum ; and best reason of all, you are surer to find your 

 game there than elsewhere. The best way, I think, is to hunt 

 him with a gun. The dog trees the game, you shine his eyes 

 with a torch or jack-lantern, and aim at the two little fire- 

 balls that reflect your light. H you fail to " hear something 

 drap," as you shoot, you may know that it was "nothing 

 but a 'coon," or " wasn't fat." 



Will he sham, make as if, pretend he's dead, play 'poB- 

 suni? He will. Find one alive, strike at him, but don't hit 

 him. He will counterfeit a dead 'possum "to a fault," Go 

 off a little ways and watch. First one eye will open just, a 

 little ; then if he fails to see you the other opens ; his head 

 moves, slowly at first ; he looks all about him ; then gets up 

 slowly, and looks all around. If he fails to see you, ho 

 makes off. If he sees you, he's dead again. There's nothing 

 involuntary about it. It is willful, deliberate and premedi- 

 tated, if in doubt whether the animal is dead or sharnuieth, 

 pick him up ; straighten the tail ; then pretend to let him 



drop. If alive he will coil the tail around the arm or hand, 



and save himself a fall, if he fails to do ibis, he is dead or 

 mortally hurt. 



There is a great deal of poetry on the subject of the 'pos- 

 sum. One solitary verse endures in the recollection, which 

 I quote as i lustraiing the " shamming " trait in his charac- 

 ter. It is >:s follows: 



" I met a pewossum in the road, 

 And rmiiiiile he alii seem lo be-—; V— e ; 

 lie curled Ills tall and shipped a rod, 

 And swore tue road was free— y— e. 



There would seem to be some difference in opinion as to 

 the manner iu which this Southern dainty ought to be dress- 

 ed. 1 don't quite like that conceit of Col. Bob Crockett— the 

 resemblance to a young baby. To my mind he should be 

 dressed to resemble a well-dressed pig. It is more appetizing 

 somehow that way. 



And that is easy. Ashes and hot water; hold him in by 

 the tail — which is ready dressed — till the hair slips, then slip 

 it all off; rub with a corn cob; scrape with a knife then 

 draw, then put on a little salt, and throw him on some low 

 roof to freeze for one or two nights. 



To cook him you don't need a, stove. Every well-regulated 

 Arkansas family has an open fire-place, and an oven-and-lid, 

 and a skiilet-and-lid. The oven is a deep baking kettle, the 

 skillet a shallow one. This is not unfrequenlly the entire 

 culinary outfit. In the tire-place yon should have a hickory 

 fire well g me to coals. The 'possum should parboil for half 

 an hour ; if a few spoonfuls of sharp vinegar, a little soda, 

 or a red pepper be boiled with it all the better. When par- 

 boiled throw all the water away; prepare the oven by putting 

 one layer of sweet potatoes, medium sized, sliced lengthwise 

 on the bottom, l hen put in the 'possum; season ouly with salt 

 and black pepper ; use no other dressing or device what- 

 ever, then fill the oven with sweet potatoes sliced as above ; 

 put on the ltd, set it on the coals, cover over with glowing 

 coals, and let it cook until both the potatoes and 'possum are 

 tender. Have the skillet filled with com dodgers made up 

 with corn meal, water and salt only. Serve all hot. This is 

 the correct thing. No sauce of any kind is admissible. For 

 the matter of a drink your correspondent recommends water 

 first, last and all the time. 



Is it good cold ? It is. Never tried it, but know it must 

 be. I have never seen any that was properly cooked left to 

 get cold, and have never seen any one who had. 



Dide.phys virginiana is of a modest and retiring disposi- 

 tion, and must he sought to be found. It is perhaps but nat- 

 ural that the great public should entertain many misconcep- 

 tions concerning one whose front name is based upon an er- 

 roneous notion. At another time I may ask a further hear 

 ing in his behalf. Ykll. 



FROM MOOSEHEAD LAKE TO THE MAIN ST. JOHN. 



IN 1UKKB RAMS— PA KT 11. 



WHEN 1 was awakened on the morning of May 30 it 

 was by the beating of the rain up m our tent. The 

 lire which we left burning jusi outside when we retired had 

 long since uone out, and it was cold and cheerless. I got up 

 and looked out into the forest. 



The wind was hushed ; the tall trees moved not a branch ; 

 but all was still, save the almost noiseless current, aud the 

 pattering of the rain drops upon the leaves. The rain came 

 clown easily and still, and a sense of desolation stole over 

 one in the great wilderness. 



I awoke the guides ; and soon a cheerful fire was blazing, 

 m withstanding the rain ; and ere long a dozen fresh trout 

 were sputtering iu the pan. After breakfast the clouds broke 

 a little ; and we decided to strike our tent and move forward 

 on our journey. Two of the guides took a birch and pad- 

 elled down to 'Suncook to engage a team to take our boats 

 aud luggage across Mud Pond Carry, while the rest packed 

 up and paddled down to the " Meadows," at the head of 

 'Suncook, now completely flowed over. Later iu the season 

 the water falls off and nothing but a narrow, shallow and 

 very crooked river is here, where now the lake sets up fi >ur 

 or five miles, with a width varying from one-half to three- 

 quarters of a mile. This tributary is called the 



TTMBAZOOKSTTB RIVB.B 



ami is the outlet of the lake of that name. 



Having got again upon our course (for we had gone out of 

 it to camp) we rested on our oars to await the return of our 

 guides. 



After half an hour's delay we resumed our paddles, our 

 guides having found us, and hunted up a log camp about 

 three and a half miles up the meadows ou the east shore. 

 We found a very good house after some search, but wheu 

 the loggers abandoned it for the season they left their refuse 

 upon the ground, and the.aimospherc around was anything 

 but sweet; so we tarried not, but continued on about two 

 and a half miles further and pitched our tent at the foot of 



" MTTLB OARBY," 



on the east bank of the Umbazooksus. 



Until witbiu two years, there were no teams to be had 

 across Mud Pond Carry, but it must be made on foot, Now 

 the occupants of 'Suncook Farm pretend to furnish teams 

 for that, service; so while we were pitching our tent, Sam and 

 John went back about four miles to assist the teams across a 

 small creek, which empties into 'Suncook on the east bank, 

 to enable them to reach us at our camp at the fool of Lit lie- 

 Carry, near winch is the west terminus of the carry when 

 made by teams. 



While awaiting their return we found some very good fish- 

 ing on the ripB near our camp. About 6 p. a. our guides re- 

 turned with the intelligence that they could not get the 

 horses across the creek, as the owner would uot, swim them 

 Unless we would stand security, fearing they might drowu— 

 hence they abandoned the team, put it back and hired three 

 men, paying them $5 each to assist in getting us across the 

 carry. 



The next morning— May 31— we made an early start, for 

 we had the hardest battle of the route before us for this day's 

 work. Our guides paddled up the pitch (some forty rods), 

 while we walked " Short Carry." Resuming our boats, an 

 hour's paddle against a stiff current took us a matter of two 

 miies into 



UMBAZOOK8US LAKE, 



half a mile across the lake to the east shore and you land at 

 the west end of the famouB or infamous 



MUD POND OAliltY, 



one of the worst out of doors. It is two miles long and from 

 the centre pilches both ways. To the westward the water 

 empties into 'Suncook and pays tribute to the East Branch* 

 of the Peuobscot ; to the eastward into Mud Pond and Ihence 

 into Chamberlain, till it finally reaches the St. John— hence 



