204 
and once tnder these, my fish would be 
lost, but I followed him about, keeping 
a fairly tight line on him. Twice I got 
him alongside and tried to grab him. but 
each time he was off with a’ dash. The 
third time, however, sealed his fate. I 
got my hand over his head, a thumb in one 
eye and forefinger in the other, and did 
not let go until I was on shore. I have 
caught large muskalonge, but do not think 
I ever had such a fight with one before or 
since. 

BLACK BASS CAPERS. 
C. C. HASKINS. 
No doubt there are those who assumed 
an expression of dubiety -on reading 
Mr. Hunt’s account of black bass capers, 
in April RECREATION. However, I can 
corroborate his statements and testify to 
another peculiarity of the same species. 
My ‘first bass fishing was done many 
years ago near the mouth of Buffalo creek 
—or, as it is now called, Buffalo river—in 
Lake Erie. In these days bass could be 
taken with a hand line in 20 or 25 feet of 
clear water, and I have often seen wall- 
eyed pike, bass, and occasionally a picker- 
el, take my hook, as I leaned over the 
gunwales of the skiff. 
Crawfish were considered the best bait 
when bass were fastidious, but that boat 
seldom moved from shore without worms 
and ninnows as well a3 “‘crabs.”’ 
In particularly quiet, clear weather and 
water we could often see the fish, and the 
coaxing which Mr. Hunt speaks of was 
not unfamiliar to me. When a crawfish 
bait was lowered, and made to act as near- 
ly lifelike as possible, I have often seen 
a bass rush at it as if to frighten it off 
the string, but always stopping short 12 
or 18 inches from the hook. If the bait 
was moved toward fim he backed away. 
He would sometimes circle around and 
make a similar dash from the opposite di-- 
rection. If now a live crawfish was drop- 
ped overboard the fish would approach it 
leisurely, and if it made no struggle he 
would open his mouth, and with the least 
possible effort take it in. If it attempted 
to get away he simply grabbed it. 
In more than one instance I have seen 
a bass attempt to knock the bait off the 
hook with a blow of his tail, and I once 
saw one in that way hook himself just 
back of the anal fin. 
In almost every case where a fish’ was 
taken others followed it nearly to the sur- 
face, aS iL ftom “curiosity::: Lt) miusteamot 
be forgotten that fishing then, and fishing 
now, in the same waters, are quite as dif- 
ferent as the tackle used. Then a chalk 
line, 2 or 3 bullets and a flat-headed Kirby 
hook would land more fish, hand-over- 
hand, than a half dozen split bamboos with 
RECREATION. 

all moderti appliances can do to-day; and 
the chorus will please sing, “all on ac- 
count of the fish hog.” 
During the construction of the tunnel 
from the Niagara river, under the Black 
rock pier, in connection with the water 
works at Buffalo, I had frequent talks with 
the divers who did the work. One of them 
was quite a student of nature, and he told 
me that for some weeks, while at work, 
he had not been lonesome. The fish, 
after making up their minds he would not 
harm them, came daily, nearer and nearer, 
until he learned to know some of them, 
and particularly one sturgeon about 3 feet 
long, who punched his armor several 
times, as if to see what it was made of. 
During all the preliminary work—up to 
the time of the blasting—he had a fish 
party every day. 

A LESSON IN WADING. 
During the last trout season Dr. —— 
thought he needed a day’s fishing, and as 
a Rochester friend, Mr. T., felt the same 
way, we 3 set a day to visit Anderson and 
Bear creeks. J. M. and the minister were 
a welcome addition to otr party, when 
the day arrived, and -~ started with plen- 
ty of tackle and great expectations. 
At Anderson we found the water so high 
as to leave us small chance of making a 
good catch. But we were bound to put 
in the day, and I was chosen to pilot the 
Doctor and Mr. T. down stream, while J. 
M. and the minister fished up the creek. 
We found too much water to contend with 
and moved on to Bear run, which empties 
into Anderson. 
There the Doctor’s troubles began. We 
had to wade a swollen river with a swiit 
current. Mr. T. and I knew we were in 
for it, but started to wade while the Doc- 
tor was telling us how to do it and ad- 
vising the removal of the lower half of 
our clothing. When we _ reached the 
other side we saw him in the act of follow- 
ing his own advice—whith is contrary to 
all medical precedent. Holding his trous- 
ers in one arm, shoes and socks under the 
other, and with fishing rod extended ahead 
of him, he slowly made his way to a rock 
in midstream. There he sat down, the 
better to unload on us more of his surplus 
knowledge of the art of wading. In doing 
so he let his baited hook fall in the water. 
On lifting his rod to finish crossing there 
dangled from the line the first catch of the 
morning—a 7-inch trout. When he reached 
out to land his victim the Doctor’s trous- 
ers slipped from under his arm and sailed 
down stream. By the time he had put 
the balance of his loose property on the 
rock he knew it would be useless to wade 
after the trousers with any hope of over- 
taking them, So he made for the bank, 

