3° 2 



RECREATION 



ing is one of varying situations and con- 

 tinued practice. An angler may fish one 

 and the same river all his life with best suc- 

 cess, and yet fail to kill on another river 

 until he has studied its different and peculiar 

 idiosyncrasies. It is the intensely specific 

 characteristics of rivers which make salmon- 

 fishing a superlative art and the most diffi- 

 cult to master of all piscatory attainments. 

 A doctor might as well undertake to diag- 

 nose one case by the symptoms of another 

 case, as for an angler to judge of the temper 

 of one river by that of another. The more 

 we fish the more surely we discover this 

 truism and its parallel. One cannot always 

 judge character by physiognomy; we dis- 

 cover it by trial. The master hand may 

 outline the rote and routine of an angler, 

 but he cannot make an adept. Perhaps 

 this is why an old hand is tempted to dis- 

 card treatises. Fortunate he may be if he is 

 not compelled to hang up his rod altogether. 

 To the "contemplative angler," still robust 

 and hearty, but poor in purse, it is misery 

 to reflect that he must yield his pastime 

 before his day is run. Rivers continue to 

 flow, and the splash of the salmon is heard 

 in the stream, but he may not fish; the price- 

 less waters are open only to the few who can 

 afford to buy. The bamboo wand is super- 

 seded by the golden rod. But what astound- 

 ing sums these angling privileges command ! 

 Ten, twenty, thirty thousand dollars, and 

 even more, for a few rods of riverfront with 

 a bare fortnight's fishing per annum! To 

 those who have enjoyed the freedom of the 

 river, without money and without price, in 

 years gone by, the changed conditions of 

 things seem strange, and the question natur- 

 ally comes up: How has it all happened? 



Has the intense passion for salmon-fishing, 

 whose charms all the poets and anglers have 

 sung, from the days of Oppian to Bethune, 

 at last reached fever heat ? Or is it merely* 

 the pleasure of exclusive possession that 

 enhances values? 



I remember once coming down the Resti- 

 gouche forty odd years ago, and stopping at 

 old man Merrill's over night, half-way up 

 the river. He occupied a small log cabin 

 beside a splendid salmon-pool, and lived a 

 lonely life in a very humble way. He was 

 poor, but gathered no end of salmon during 

 the season; indeed salmon became a drug 

 at his table, and a steady diet of the pink- 

 hued fish for forty days would cloy his 

 stomach. 



Wishing to do the handsome act for 

 his guest at supper, he graciously set 

 before me the best his larder afforded, in his 

 estimation, which was a broiled smoked 

 herring! No cooked salmon was in sight. 

 I was hungry for a mess of the dainty fish, 

 for I was fresh on the river myself, and for 

 hours previously, as the ever-dipping pad- 

 dles sped us down the stream, I had kept on 

 thinking: "At Merrill's we will have fresh 

 salmon." However, I had no occasion to 

 feel disappointed, for I had only to express 

 my desire and abundance soon appeared. 

 I ate of boiled salmon to repletion, but old 

 Merrill "allowed" that he had had so much 

 of it since the season opened in June that he 

 didn't think / would care for it. That seems 

 to be the logic of the present status on the 

 river. Anglers who are surfeited with sport 

 are liable to forget that the rest of the 

 fraternity are yearning for it. The next 

 time I come down I fear it will be smoked 

 red herring or no fish. 



APRIL 



BY MARGARET ASHMUN 



A black pool, lined with slowly freshening sedge, 

 A flame of buds upon the maple tree; 



A gray rain-cloud with wool-white, crinkled edge- 

 And in the air a hint of flowers to be. 



