FISH AND FISHING. 



A TROUT IDYLL. 



E. F. l'AGE, JR. 



Along Ventura river, by a little willow 



nook, 

 There fished a little maiden, with rod and 



line and hook, 

 And though 'twas most artistic, the way she 



cast a fly, 

 Success had shunned her efforts, for trout 



were very shy. 



The waters gurgled gaily and sang a merry 



tune. 

 The turtles crawled up lazily, and sunned 



themselves at noon, 

 And drowsiness o'ertaking a tired little 



maid, 

 She gave up her rod, sat down and went to 



sleep amid the shade. 



She dreamed a dream of wonders, of catch- 

 ing many trout, 



Speckled, shiny beauties in the water round 

 about; 



She heard the whizzing of the line, the 

 clicking of the reel, 



And then the nervous nibbling of the fish 

 she well could feel. 



Then up the stream there came a man who'd 



had a different fate, 

 The trout had freely taken of his wriggling, 



wormy bait; 

 He saw the empty basket and the little 



sleeping maid, 

 The disappointed look she wore, and was 



very much afraid, 



That when the nap was over and she was 



wide awake, 

 The world would seem a horrid blank and 



life a cruel fate. 

 So he put into the basket a goodly string of 



fish, 

 Whose sweet pink flesh he knew would 



make a very savory dish; 



And on his way proceeded in a happy 



frame of mind, 

 For the greatest joy is giving, and to others 



to be kind. 

 Her sleep was o'er, she sighed a bit, her 



eyes were open wide, 

 And then she gazed in wonder at the basket 



by her side. 



At first she thought of fairies and was a lit- 

 tle bit afraid, 



For she was very young, you know, this lit- 

 tle fisher maid; 



But then the wonder vanished, for it would 

 plainly seem, 



She'd caught the fish there by her side, ill- 

 luck was but a dream. 



Adown Ventura river with a rod and line 



and hook, 

 Trudged a tired little maiden with a very 



happy look, 

 For though she'd caught no trout at all, she 



really thought she had, 

 And that string of speckled, beauties was 



enough to make one glad. 



MUSKALONGE FISHING. 



ROBERT HUNNER. 



Mr. George Johnson, Arthur Smith and 

 I left Eau Claire August 21st, for the North- 

 ern part of Vilas county, Wisconsin. 



We reached Woodruff on the 22d, and 

 there met Mr. Fred Osgood, of Chicago, 

 bound, as we were, for a camp on Boulder 

 river, occupied by C. A. Penrose, of Balti- 

 more, and my 2 brothers. 



We hired a rig and started for the lower 

 dam on Boulder river, 20 miles North. 



The road passes some beautiful lakes. 

 Among them are Spider, Silver, and the 

 celebrated Trout lake. 



We reached Boulder river about 2 p.m., 

 and determined to find the boys, before 

 dining. 



We secured a good boat and a large 

 canoe from a lumber-camp at the dam, and 

 went on up the river. After a 2 hours' pull, 

 we met the boys returning to camp. 



During our row we passed through 

 Boulder Lake, a grand place for muska- 

 longe. Any reader who is interested in the 

 best fresh water fishing to be found any- 

 where, should write the Chicago and 

 Northwestern Ry. Co., at Chicago, for their 

 map of Vilas and Oneida counties, Wiscon- 

 sin. 



Our camp was at the second dam on 

 Boulder river: 6 miles by water, and ^2 

 by trail from Fish Trap lake, another splen- 

 did muskalonge water. 



Our first day in camp being Sunday, we 

 did not do much; but took the boats up the 

 river to Fish Trap, to be ready for Mon- 

 day's fishing. On the way, I got 6 easy 

 shots at young mallards. 



Mr. Johnson caught the first muskalonge 

 on Sunday, and hooked the fish near the 

 eye, as it made an unsuccessful grab for the 

 spoon. We caught 3 or 4 during the week 

 in the same manner. In every instance 

 they made a hard fight. 



Our first fish weighed 10 pounds. I shot 

 him through the head, the first time Mr. J. 

 got him near the boat. 



I used a 32-Marlin revolver; and learned 



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