294 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



brook trout can be taken in gnat numbers. So our friend 

 Page says in his guide book ; I do not speak from experience. 

 On Bois Blanc Island, opposite Cheboygan, are two lakes, also 

 said to abound in trout. Resuming our journey, we enjoy its 

 novelty aa we follow the course of the river for eighteen miles 

 or so to Mullet Lake. There are no fisb in the Cheboygan, 

 the continual drives of logs keeping them out ; neither do I 

 learn that Mullet Lake affords much sport to the angler. It is 

 little tested, however, possibly because there is better fishing 

 ground elsewhere. I've heard of mammoth muscalonge being 

 caught in it. 



On a calm day like ours, the approach to Mullet Lake is en- 

 trancing. Like all the waters of the larger Michigan lakes, 

 its color, when the waves are at rest, is a translucent green, 

 but not as deep a green as the Niagara River, which most 

 of my readers have probably seen. The e*ct of this peculiar 

 hue is most charming. Upon approaching the lake from out of 

 the wood fringed shores of the narrow river, we see it spread 

 before us in a great expanse, luminous and gleaming in the sun 

 like a sheet of beryl or chrysoprase. In the far distance, 

 some twelve miles or so, the opposite shore is discernible like 

 a line of haze on the horizon. While we sail, we smoke and 

 contemplate, or indulge in harmless pistol practice at a brace 

 of loons quite out of range. This breaks the monotony. 

 Nevertheless we are glad when we approach the little lauding 

 on the veige of the unbroken forest, just below the mouth of 

 Indian River, which flows out from Burt Lake, the second of 

 the series. Burt Lske is full of bass, pike aud muscalonge, 

 and we shall stop at friend Williston's, the only house on In- 

 dian River, five miles distant, to try the adjacent lakes and 

 streams. A Frenchman and his wife, named Coutois— very 

 nice people indeed— occupy the only house at the landing 

 where our boat now lies, which they keep as a hotel. It is 

 a two-story, unpainted house, but it is new and clean, and 

 smells of the grateful odor of the pine. No carpets < cover 

 the floor, but one don't care for carpets in summer. The cool 

 glass of iced lager beer which is proff ere i is far more to one's 

 taste and comfortable feeling when he is hot. For fall shoot- 

 ing I would recommend the Frenchman's house as headquar- 

 ters. Wild rice grows in the lower part of Indian River, and 

 many ducks congregate there in the latter part of September. 

 The woods are "full" of deer and bears, for no one traverses 

 them except the lumbermen. Moreover, Pigeon River is 

 close by, and in the early fall, after the logs have been driven 

 out, the grayling fishing there is unsurpassed. The fish are 

 large and few ever angle for them. 



Just here we have to exchange steamboats, for we require a 

 vessel of lighter draught. Although much dredging and 

 deepening of channels and driving of piles has been done to 

 promote navigation, the shifting sands of the bottom rapidly 

 •work into bars, and a foot of tiepth is often all that, is offered 

 to encourage attempted progress. Our new crafthas a pair of 

 spluttering sidewheels and is manned by a steersman, who is 

 captain and collector of fares, and an engineer, both men act- 

 ing as deck and shore hands when required. She is called 

 the " Valley Queen," and her captain owns the house up the 

 river which friend Williston keeps. However, there is com- 

 fortable cabin accommodations on board of her for twenty 

 such persons as have been in the habit of traveling in New 

 York street cars, and twenty more can stow themselves on 

 the trunks aft. Sometimes the ''Valley Queen " carries bar- 

 rels and boxes of freight for the use of the lumbermen's camps 

 which tends to cramp the accommodations, and very often a 

 score of the brawny red-sbirted fellows themselves ; and a 

 very civil set they are in the main, and intelligent withal. 



Now, let us imagine ourselves under way. Spread out be- 

 fore us for a mile on either side is a grass and rush swamp, 

 with scattering patches of wild rice inclosing small ponds of 

 open water. On its outer edge is the forest. Nature every- 

 where is in it8"wild State. A stray eagle flaps his leisurely 

 way overhead, and nn occasional heron rises out of the marsh. 

 Muskrats paddle along the margin of the river, and dive when 

 sufficiently alarmed by the approaching boat. In the bow of 

 the boat is a statue, motionless, holding a gun. It is A. B. 

 Turner on the lookout for ducks. At intervals a single one, 

 or possibly two or three, rise out of a pool, and, making a 

 wide detour, return and fly past far out of range. Turner 

 bangs at them but bags no game, as it is against the law to 

 shoot ducks in August— any kind but wood-ducks. [Mem. 

 All killed ducks arc wood-ducks ; those that are not hit are 

 mallards or teal.] The sport of loading and watching for 

 chances occupies the time until the boat draws out of the 

 swamp. At length the forests close in, and the river narrows 

 to a channel three times her width, with cedars, balsam and 

 hardwood, impinging close and sometimes arching over. 

 Pigeons afford frequent chances for marksmanship, and 

 Brother Turner proves his skill with credit at wing-shooting. 

 In due time we pass the mouth of Sturgeon River, a cold and 

 rapid stream abounding in grayling; then two log houses 

 presently come in sight on a bluff to the left, and directly 

 afterward the whistle shrieks as if it would blow itself loose, 

 and we round a bend and glide up to a substantial log landing 

 in deep water. This is Williston's house, and here we tie up 

 for dinner. Two ladies and a lad are still-fishing for bass 

 hard by. There is an Indian camp on the shore opposite, 

 with dug-out canoes hauled up. Burt Lake is visible ovei 

 the point of land ahead, and the .whole outlook is promising 

 for sport. Here let us rest. 



I can conceive of no more-central point for sport than just 

 here at this quiet log house in the middle of the wilderness, 

 with only three other houses within a distance of twenty 

 miles. There is the river flowing at your door, connecting 



the two large lakes, each some twelve miles long : the forest 

 around you, and game and fish to be had by the skillful with 

 the usual amount of painstaking. It is not luxurious pastime 

 nor child's play to hunt large game. For instance: We are 

 .to have a bear-baitiug to-night, and will go out with Willis- 

 ton. Williston is an educated Massachusetts gentleman of 

 the old Northampton stock. His family are above the ordi- 

 nary type of "moss-backers," as the homesteaders are called 

 in this section. The "bar" signs are plenty, only three 

 miles back in the bush, but a three-miles tramp at night 

 through a tangle, when the dew is heavy and the forest dark 

 as Erebus and Nox, is not as pleasant as a stroll "on the 

 beach at Long Branch." Besides, we shall have to lie out all 

 night -whether we get the bear or not, as it is more preferable 

 to wait for daylight than to tramp through t T ae woods in the 

 gloom, and the bear must be cut up before he is carried out 

 to the house. So we gather up some remnants of fox carcass 

 and other wild meat secured for the purpose, and, shouldering 

 guns, axes and blankets, made into a pack, take a few biscuit 

 in the pocket and sally forth. We cross the river in a boat, 

 kick aside the dogs at the Indian camp who intercept us, and 

 plunge into the thicket. There is a blind trail for a distance, 

 and after that comes travail of the worst sort. In daylight 

 the natural obstructions of fallen trees, roots, briers, inter- 

 woven branches, swinging grape-vines, mud-puddles, spring- 

 holes and brush would be sufficiency discouraging ; but now 

 wc are throttled by the vines in' the darkness, tripped by the 

 roots, grasped and scratched by the briers, and upset by the 

 fallen trunks ; forked limbs jerk off the bundles of blankets, 

 the brush catches the trigger guards of the guns, your ax 

 falls in the mud, your boots stick in a spring-hole, and the 

 dew and night dampness soak to the skin. By the time you 

 are thoroughly thumped, bruised, scratched and wet, you are 

 prepared to put out the bait and camp. The place where the 

 bear has made the most sign is selected, the bait is deposited, 

 and the hunter folds his blanket about him and awaits the de- 

 nouement. Secreted in a thicket of brush, he holds his gun 

 ready and- resigns himself to patience and the pleasures of 

 hope — like the gambler's wife in the story. After hours of 

 anxious waiting, "the clock strikes twelve." No bear! 

 " One o'clock !" Long time he tarries; the game grows in- 

 teresting. " Two o'clock !" '" 'He cometh not,' she said." 

 " Three o'clock !" The play is for high stakes now. Drowsi- 

 ness rests on the heavy eyelid3. "Four o'clodk." The first 

 gray of dawn pervades the woods. The vigilant watchers 

 shake off their somnolence and rouse themselves. Ha ! the 

 bait is gone; the bear is non coniatibus in s-wampo ! '"Five 

 o'clock." Tableau at the garden gate. [Hunt to be continued.] 



Fish are more easily captured than bear Bteaks. Yesterday 

 a large pike lay tinder a root in the shallow water just oppo- 

 site the landing. A fringe of weeds floated around the place 

 and a lily-pad shaded the old fellow's head from the sun. 

 Let us drop a bait there ! no matter what sort of bait. These 

 eaocidm are verdant and not up to the tricks of masters of the 

 angle ; they will bite anything. We have a minnow and will 

 give him that. Phew! what a rush! He has it! Presto! 

 the fish is gone — and the bait, too, the stout line bitten off 

 short. N'W give him a wire snood and try him again. There, 

 we have him ! No stopping on ceremony when a pike's fast 

 is to be broken. He's fast enough this time at any rate, and 

 makes brave play. After all a big pike on a rod is no mean 

 customer, despite the bad name folks give him. They are 

 lively enough at the first, but their pluck doesn't last. That's 

 what's the matter ! Now reel him in ! A big stick would 

 afford as much play. Here he is with the two minnows in 

 his gullet— three feet long by my pocket tape measure. Now 

 let's take breakfast, steak or no steak. Pike is not bad eating. 



I doubt if the Indian River has ever been fished with a 

 trolling spoon. Tourists don't stop, but pass directly through. 

 Sometimes they let a hook trail in the foam astern of the steam- 

 boat, and frequently pick up a fish, almost under the splash of 

 the paddle wheels. I never such a favorable place for pike 

 The entire river, and especially the last four miles, is lined 

 with weeds and roots, under which the fish lie in multitudes. 

 One day we took our boat down stream to look for pigeons, 

 hoping for shots as they flew across the river. In the boat 

 was a cut sapling and a short line, which a lad had used for 

 fishing in his unsophisticated way. I fastened a spoon on it, 

 and carelessly threw it. over the side. In a twinkling a pike 

 took it. We took twenty-seven fish without an effort as we 

 d i if ted down— all caught within ten feet of the boat. Some 

 jumped a foot out of the water, and seized the hook while it 

 dangled in the air. All were large, and one four feet long. 

 I've' of ten thought I would like to try the experiment there, 

 secundum artem, to see how many I could catch in a single 

 day. I verily believe the boat would swamp before it would 

 get the load home. 



Just above our place at the landing, the channel has been 

 dredged and deepened, and the sand thrown out on either side 

 is kept from drfting into the stream again by long rows of 

 piles and planking. The bottom is irregular, and from the 

 deepest holes one can take bass with a fly while standing on 

 the bank. But Burt Lake is the place par excellence for 

 these splendid fish. They grow large there. Pike and 

 muscalonge of enormous size swim in its waters, and the 

 Indians keep their larders abundantly supplied therefrom 

 They can be taken with troll or minnow along shore where 

 the shoals break off abruptly into deep water, making a shelf 

 under which long weeds grow, stretching from the bottom to 

 the surface. 



Forty rods from Williston's house is an Indian burying- 

 ground where the dead are buried who fell in battle at the 



Island of Mackinaw during the earlier struggles. Their friends 

 carried the bodies a long distance that the solitude of the inner 

 wilderness might guarantee immunity from disturbance. Y< t 

 the canal diggers lifted out the bones with their sacrilegious 

 shovels until the cowed remnants of the tribe who still reside, 

 in the neighborhood mustered enough of their old fire to for- 

 bid the exhumation, and compelled them to desist by threats 

 of vengeance dire. 



I would like to convey to the reader in florid word-painting 

 some idea of the beauties of the lake scenery around me, but 

 Virgil and all the poets after him have sung bucolics until the 

 books are filled with the familiar theme. So I will merely say 

 that the beaches are shelving and the shores are bold, with 

 only a settler at intervals of many miles. On one side of Burt 

 Lake is a small Indian village, which we pass as we enter 

 Crooked River, a stream more crooked than its name. So 

 sinuous is it that it doubles on itself and worms through the 

 forest like a snake, with many a twist and turn. Progress 

 through it is helped by poles shoved against the bank, after 

 the fashion -on the Oclawaha in Florida, only this river is 

 more crooked than that. Deer and bsars arc often intercepted 

 by the boat while swimming across, and I've no doubt but 

 that most of the denizens of these woods have never heard a 

 gun. 



Through Crooked River into Crooked Lake \ At the 

 head of Crooked Lake we take stages for Petoskey, now seven 

 miles distant, having completed the circuit of the round trip 

 since the reader started with me. There is an outlet from 

 Crooked Lake into Rouud Lake, and thence into Traverse 

 Bay ; and perhaps some day a contemplated improvement will 

 be made and the channels from one to the other be deepened 

 so that boats may pass. 



A year ago the road to Petoskey, which we now travel with 

 comparative ease, was almost impracticable. How so good a 

 road as it now is could be made through a tamarack swauip 

 so dense seems marvelous. It. would puzzle a bear to push 

 through the jungle that characterizes the first half inile of the 

 journey. But the forest grows gradually more open, and the 

 monotony of the ride is broken by a dash along the shore of 

 Round Lade. Then the stage dives into the wilderness again, 

 and at a distance of two miles from town strikes a frequented 

 road, passing the Methodist camp ground, where the under- 

 brush has been cleared out, and thence leads into Petoskey. 

 When I drove through, scattered fires were burning in the 

 forest. Some were so near the roadside that the heat was fer- 

 vent. It was pitch dark, and the lurid light of the leaping 

 flames and their crackle among the pines and hemlocks, with 

 the dust of the road and the thick smoke ot the burning, made 

 the journey seem like a passage through— through — well, you 

 can imagine what it was like. We drove so fast that we had 

 little time for imagination. The reality was all that we could 

 manage for the time being. We were really in danger of be- 

 ing cut off if a wind had sprung up. The next day the fires 

 had spread very considerably, and for several days after the 

 smoke of the conflagration rose in a great clcud. Then a 

 timely rain came, quenched the blaze, cleared the atmosphere 

 and tourists who made the passage had only the charred and 

 blackened rarapikes to contemplate and regret. 



In my next I will take the reader through the southern 

 chain of lakc3. Hallow;. 



Bronzes and Bronze Ornaments.— We have too long 

 looked to France for entire supremacy in works of art. 

 Granting to a certain degree that our models are derived from 

 foreign sources in the execution of bronze work, our metal- 

 lurgy skill is beginning to assert itself. Ingenious methods 

 of casting and working metals belong exclusively to our peo- 

 ple. They have it within their own hands to produce at 

 cheap rates ornaments of the most beautiful and varied char- 

 acter. In visiting the handsome show-rooms of the Bradley 

 & Hubbard Manufacturing Co., No. 21 and 23 Barclay street, 

 the extreme elegance of their most extensive collection of 

 bronzes and ornaments struck us with astonishment. Here 

 were the choicest models reproduced in endless variety. 

 There were plenty of objects which would strike the sports- 

 man's eye, such as models of dogs, horses, birds, stags and 

 many other animals. As prizes for sporting contests, a great 

 many of these subjects would answer admirably well. The 

 Bradley <fc Hubbard Manufacturing Company also make in 

 bronze and metals those beautiful jardenieres which the ladies 

 delight in. It iB not only the perfection of design which is to 

 be regarded, but the price of such beautiful objects is within 

 the reach of all. 



"Fred Beverly" in the West Indies.— We have 

 already printed three letters from this indefatigable naturalist, 

 giving some account of his scientific explorations in Mar- 

 tinique, Dominica, and other West Iudia islands, and are 

 promised more letters soon. The information which Mr. 

 Ober is now gathering, is in behalf of the Smithsonian Institu- 

 tion, and will probably cover a period of two years in all. It 

 will be eventually published in a volume, illustrated princi- 

 pally from photographs, and will be a work of much value, 

 inasmuch as it covers ground almost wholly new, and much 

 that has never been visited. In a letter dated at Antiqua last 

 September, Mr. Ober says : 



I have visited and photographed the "Boiling Lake" of 

 Dominica, and am the only American who has seen it ; have 

 lived among the Caribs two months (the only white man in 

 the region) ; have made long excursions into the mountains, 

 with only Indian guides, in search of the " Imperial Parrot," 

 my specimens beiDg tlie first ever sent to America. That waa 



