324 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



lance Mm, and instead of taking the right chanuel, was forced 

 into a rapid which ran toward the shore under a fallen tree. 

 In a moment our boat plunged bow foremost into the depths, 

 and the four of us found ourselves above our waists in the 

 water, fortunately just being able to catch hold of the fallen 

 tree, upon which we, after strenuous efforts, were enabled to 

 secure a position. Our camp-cooking apparatus went to the 

 bottom, the provisions, blankets and "wraps floated down the 

 stream and were picked up by those in the first, boat. After 

 remaining nearly an hour on the tree, which was separated 

 from the shore by over ten feet, so that we could not reach it, 

 we were rescued from our dangerous position by the other 

 boat. The water was at this spot twenty feet deep and the 

 current very strong, so that had we not been able to catch hold 

 of^thc tree, all would have inevitably been sucked under it and 

 become entangled in its submerged branches without the possi- 

 bility of extricating ourselves. We congratulated each other 

 on landing at our second camping ground with but the loss of 

 our cooking utensils and fishing rods and the several dozens 

 of trout caught on the way down stream. By the time oui' 

 tent was set up, a fire built and our wet clothes hung up to 

 dry and a change put on, supper was ready and the shades of 

 night had fallen upon us. Our camping ground was close to 

 the river's edge, in the midst of a dense forest, and the flies, 

 if it were possible, even more vicious. Our supper— the 

 cooking utensils having been lost— had to be prepared in true 

 Indian style. Pieces of bacon and the fish had to be sus- 

 pended over the fire by a bending twig, while, in place of our 

 tin pannikins, the chasseurs manufactured cups out of the in- 

 side skin of birch bark which did not leak even one drop. 

 On account of the flies, the intense heat, the excitement 

 caused by our accident, it was utterly impossible to sleep, and 

 the weary vigil of the dark hours seemed never to come to 

 an end, while continuously through the dark hours a night- 

 owl dolorously screamed its mournful notes. Tk,e fire in 

 front of the tent lazily burned through the night, and was 

 now and then fed by the two chmseurs. Toward morning I 

 thought it had died out completely, but I felt its heat, yet 

 could not see the flames. I had become blind. 1 put up my 

 band and foimd that my eyes were completely closed ; the in- 

 flammation from the bites had so greatly increased that my 

 power of vision was lost. Calling to one of the men he pro- 

 cured me some cold water, witirwhich for half an hour I 

 bathed my eyes, and at last could discover a thin streak of 

 daylight. 1 continued bathing till sight was restored suffi- 

 ciently so as to see where I was tromg. While the boys were 

 taking breakfast, Mr. Percy andmyself took one of the flats 

 —a most unsteady one— to try our luck in fishing. We had 

 paddled to the middle of a pool, and were beginning to cast 

 our lines when, by an unfortunate step by him, the' flau was 

 upset and we were both thrown into the water, which was 

 pretty deep. Fortunately we both could swim, and with a 

 few strokes reached land, 'the occurrence was so ludicrous 

 that neither could help being convulsed with laughter, 

 which brought the chasseurs to our assistance, and w r e 

 recrossed the stream to the camp, while they righted 

 and bailed out the treacherous flat. We had not a 

 third change of clothes, so were obliged to undress 

 and cover ourselves with blankets, while our clothes 

 hung on branches of tries dried slow! v before the fire. The 

 sight was certainly amusing ; Percy wearing but a blanket of 

 deep blue, and myself one of glaring red", sat lugubriously 

 smoking our consoling pipes before the pinewood Are, blaz- 

 ing up high amid a foliage which prevented us seeing the 

 smallest particle of the blue sky, which no doubt covered our 

 canopy of leaves. Sitting thus at the opening of our tent with 

 the two chasseurs lazily enjoying their calumets of peace, we 

 might, either of us, butfor our rather Saxon appearance, and the 

 absence of warlike weapons, have been taken for Sitting Pull, 

 or one of his war-loving companions. My friend and myself 

 were taciturn ; the chasseurs were glocmily silent, and the 

 three boys were amusing themselves in the boats faraway, 

 and thus the time passed in a dreary, silent solitude, unbroken 

 even by the sad owl which had so continuously kept up his 

 mournful cry throughout the previous night. One sound, how- 

 ver, remained unceasing, one annoyance was unabated ; the 

 buz of flies and their exasperating attacks. 



By this unlucky accident our morning's fishing was lost, 

 and when we could put on our clothes the time had arrived 

 for us to continue our course down the river. After par- 

 taking of a midday meal we afain struck tent, loaded our Hats 

 and started. The incident of the previous day made me more 

 watchful of my chasmir, notwithstanding which we several 

 times ran the risk of shipwreck by colliding with boulders 

 and fallen trees and hanging branches. The scenery, as we 

 descended, was of the same wild and magnificent character, 

 varied here and there by immense sand-hills which sloped down 

 to the waters' edge. Large flocks of wild ducks now and then 

 flew over our heads, and we could hear from far above us their 

 short cry. In the autumn partridge and woodcock are here 

 in profusion, while in winter the ptarmigan from the north 

 are found in multitudes, and caribou are in plenty. Many a 

 well-known sportsman from Quebec, and elsewhere come here 

 to fill their game bags and seek the excitement and enjoyment 

 of a hunter's life. One can imagine, but not describe, the 

 wonderful picture this wild coun'.ry must present when in the' 

 fall the leaves change their color; what a beautiful and variga- 

 ted panorama must be seen, and when one could enjoy it with- 

 out the torment of black flies and mosquitoes. 



In some places the river narrowed between low banks cov- 

 ered to the waters' edge with trees of long spreading branches, 

 which hung so near that it was with difficulty we were able to 

 pass under them. Then it would suddenly widen, leaving to 

 our view terrace after terrace of rocks on each side, which ap- 

 peared to us like castellated battlements, which rose upward 

 till lost in the high heavens. Grand old natural castles, 

 more ancient and more imposing than any on the far famed 

 Rhine. As rapidly again would the scene change to shores 

 fringed with wild watse of strawberry, raspberry and blueberry 

 bushes, behind which magnificent plantations of birch and 

 maple trees hid from view the surrounding mountains. An 

 autumn coloring to such grandeur bewilders the imagination, 

 and intestacy we allowed our rods to idly dip into the stream, 

 and our boats to dreamily float downward while we gazed 

 upon the glorious picture. Our trip was soon coming to an 

 end. We in a short time arrived at a sort of lagoon or marsh, 

 through which we poled our flats, and where the heat was al- 

 most suffocating and sickening, and the flies agonizing, It 

 lead us to the foot of a hill, up which we carried our iinpedi- 

 Tnenta, andreached the house of hnoted rjiasseur, Mr. Morance, 

 where we enjoyed the luxury of garden strawberries and 

 cream and delicious milk from an ice cold dairy Here we 

 were met by our horses and vehicles, and we started on 

 our return to St. Raymond, where we arrived in tac evening, 

 and found our indisposed friend wholly recovered and very 

 thankful that he did not present the dilapidated appearance 

 we wore— inflamed faces covered with bites,aud torn garments. 



We put up at Pelletier's Hotel, and sat down to a bountiful 

 repast to which we did full justice. Eising at three o'clock 

 in the. morning we started for St. Jeann de Neuville, and ar- 

 rived there in time to take the train for Quebec, which we 

 "reached at nine the same morning, and there divided the spoil 

 we had taken in the wierd wild river St. Anne. O. 



For Forest and Stream and Rod and Gun. 

 AN AUTUMN REVERIE. 



'"pHERE is a beauty and sublimity in brown, fruitful au- 

 -L tumn which renders it dear to the heart of every lover 

 of nature and natural scenery. It is a season of luxury, 

 whose praises have been sung by bards the most famous and 

 immortal. True, the season is the harbinger or forerunner of 

 coming winter, when the " sere and yellow leaf," blown from 

 the branches by every fitful breeze, causes the mind to dwell 

 on the death of the year. Yet, with all deference to that de- 

 lightful poet and moralist, William Cullen Bryant, this period 

 cannot be aptly termed " the melancholy days," " the saddest 

 of the year," though he has maintained that theory in one of 

 the most beautiful poems of our language. To the contrary, 

 although the scene— as ha3 been remarked by the lamented 

 Herbert— presents " a hectic " loveliness, which, like the glow 

 on the check of consumptive beauty, is the precursor of decay 

 and death ; still, so excpiisite is that beauty, so delicious the 

 temperature, the atmosphere, the aspect of the skies — so gor- 

 geous the hues of forest-mantled mountain and deep wood- 

 land, that, to me at least, the promise of spring and the full- 

 ness of summer are both inferior to the serene ancl calm de- 

 cline of the woodland year. 



It is at this season that the year reaches its maturity ; the 

 red-ripe apples in the orchard, the golden sheaves of grain, 

 the scarlet leaves of the maple— all proclaim that the harvest- 

 time is at hand, and that thenceforward the year shall hasten 

 onward to its close— to the cold, drear days of frost and snow. 

 Autumn is here. It is whispered almost audibly in the soft 

 winds which rustle in the leaves and branches ; the cool 

 breezes which fan the parched earth and bid fair nature don 

 her fairest guise, the attire of commingled scarlet, orange, 

 brown and emerald. The change, the transition, from mid- 

 summer to autumn is rapid, certain and easily distinguished. 

 The elements herald it abroad in unmistakable language. It 

 is seen in the purple mist wreaths along the streams and lake- 

 side, curtaining the morning sun— heard in the carols of au- 

 tumnal songsters, and felt in the keen? bracing atmosphere of 

 moru and dewy eve. 



Yet, it is not until "hearty, brown October" has arrived 

 that the full glory of autumn "is attained. Then it is that the 

 varied tints of the forest are most conspicuous, most dearly 

 prized ; when the hazy atmosphere of royal Indian summer 

 partially veils the landscape, clpsing in dim and misty about 

 the valley and hovering around the mountain side— a shim- 

 mering, gauze-like veil to the beauties of sylvan scenery. 

 Nature, ever lavish with her charms, "beautiful in all and 

 every guise," is now seen in the most varied and delightful 

 garb. The deep, snowy mantle and bare branches of winter ; 

 the emerald verdure of budding spring time, or the full flush 

 of ripe mid-summer beauty, cannot compare with the delicate 

 tints and bright splendor of mature autumm It outshines 

 and outvies its sister seasons, even as vigorous manhood out- 

 vies childhood, youth and old age. 



These outward attractions are visible to every observing 

 mind, while to the sportsman this constitutes but a tithe of its 

 real glory. With him this season is the prime favorite, not 

 alone because of its invigorating air and grand scenery, but 

 also in tbat it is the period of field sports, of the chase and of 

 shooting. The bare, wild moor, the meadow and the stubble 

 have for him an additional beauty, because therein are the 

 coverts of grouse and quail. The wide spreading forest of 

 dark emerald, brown or russet, has a new delight to the sports- 

 man, as the resort of nobler game— the elk, bear and deer ; 

 while the sequestered bays, cool blue lakes and clear stream- 

 lets are viewed as the habitation of the finny tribe and the 

 haunts of legions of wild fowl. Where'er he rambles— and 

 his tours undeniably lead him through the most entrancing of 

 natural scenery— the field sportsman, whether down in the 

 valley, in the woodlands, on the mountain side, or the prairie, 

 takes in an inspiration of nature "pure and undefiled, such as 

 the city exquisite or dandy never buagined, even in his 

 visions. Here, in the deep fastnesse?, he may truly and fer- 

 vently exclaim in unison with " Childe Harold :" 

 To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell, 



To slowly trace the forest's shady scene,' 

 Where things that own not man's dominion dwell. 



And monat foot hath ne'er or rarely been ; 

 To climb the trackless mountain all unseen, 



With the. wild flock that never needs a fold, 

 Alone o'er steep and foauiiugfalls to lean— 



This is not solitude, 'Ms but to hold 



Converse with nature's charms and view her stores unrolled. 

 The grand, the picturesque, and the beautiful in natural 

 scenery the sportsman views at its best, untrammeled by 

 civilization and unmarred by the resistless march of improve- 

 ment—Heaven save the mark '. — which defaces the most mag- 

 nificent of nature's works, in the one end and aim of utility. 

 Something of the spirit of reverence for "the good, the true 

 and the beautiful " is firmly implanted in the bosom of every 

 true lover of the mysteries of woodcraft or the geutle art of 

 angling. And whether it be with dog and gun in the woods 

 and meadow, or with rod and line along the trout stream, the 

 sport is enhanced by the grandeur of the scenes through which 

 be passes. All the carols of the song birds— beautiful choris- 

 ters—and the refrain of the whistling quail and woodcock 

 strike pleasantly upon his ear. In such pastimes 

 " There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, 

 There is a rapture on the lonely shore.'' 



Autumnal sport has been honored in elegant verse by the 

 most illustrious disciples of the muses, and by the ablest 

 prose writers from the days of Pliny down to the present time. 

 No more spirited and glowing descriptions of the chase and 

 field sports in general have been produced in modern times 

 than the delightful prose and poetry of that gifted, immortal 

 sportsman bard. Sir Walter Scott. His poetical effusions, as 

 well as the sublime Waveiiynovels, teem with bright deline- 

 ations of his beloved field sports ; and his magic perj has done 

 much to render romantic and popular both the woodmau's and 

 the angler's craft. Several of his leadingcharacters in romance" 

 are made to exemplify his own spirit in this respect. David 

 Gellatley is made to sing the inspiring lines : 



Hie away, hie away, 



Overiiank, :md over brae, 

 Where tUe copsewOod is the greenest, 

 Wlicrethe fountains glisten h'i 





Waere the lady. fern grows strongest, 

 Where the morning dew lies longest, 

 Where the black cock sweetest sips it. 

 W here the fairy latest trips it ; 

 Hie to haunts right, seldom seen. 

 Lovely, lonesome, cool a^l grec-n, 

 Over bank and over brae, 

 Hie away, high away. 

 The enthusiastic love of Sir Walter Scott for rural scenes 

 nd pleasures seems to pervade all bis writings, and his master 

 mind has crowned with new laurels the sports of field and 

 flood; drawing from the inexhaustible fount of his bright in- 

 tellect those pen portraits of sylvan scenes which have charm- 

 eel the world. Frank Forester has immortalized (lie Warwick 

 Woodlands ot Orange County, N. Y., to the sporting fraternity 

 of America, and Scott has rendered the Etlriek Forest and the 

 l weed immortal where'er the English language is spoken 

 Being an adept m the chase, or— as termed iu ancient times— 

 " toe noble art of Venerie," his spirited lines are not merely 

 beautiful as poetic descriptions, but as accurate delineations of 

 his own pastimes; the keen enthusiasm of the sportsman 

 shining out resplendent in both prose and poetry. 



With its manifold charms Autumn is truly calculated to in- 

 spire themind of the poet and the pencil of the artist. It comes 

 m a halo of incomparable lustre, and, as Isaac McLellan the 

 genial bard of the woods and waters hath said : 



Now when the gentle breezes 



Sweep through the fading wood, 

 Tossing the scarlet maples, 



And oak leaves ruat.y huod ; 

 JSre dawns the day o,'er lull and lawn, 



The sportsman takes his way 

 To upland moor, or woodland haunte, 



Or open breezy bay. 



The bright dawn, the rosy morn and golden sun-set are 

 viewed at their best by the woodsman, far from the distract- 

 ing hum of the city ; iu the primeval forest where standing 

 upon an eminence, he may see spread out before him as a pano- 

 rama, the most gorgeous of all pictures, drawn bv the unerring 

 and magic pencil of sunlight— 



The hill, the valley, t:.e lake and the stream. 

 The glen and the greenwood, all bright Iu its gleam. 



Such are a few of the allurements of autumn and autumnal 

 field sports, better by far than the fabled waters of the Foun- 

 tain of Youth to the over-worked mechanic and brain- wearied 

 business man ; a boon beyond price to all humanity— a sylvai 

 retreat wherein all may gain health, vigor and a due apprecljt 

 tion of fair Nature and her works. Away from the workshop 

 the desk, the loom and the sewing-machine, llo ! tor a holt' 

 day in the woods, to return revivified and invigorated: withsut 

 an appetite and such real strength, both of mind and body, 1 

 comes only from free life in the open ah*. 



Will W r iLDW00D. 



S$h f »/%. 



Aquatic Plants for Fish Poxds.— A correspond :mt con- 

 tinues this subject as follows : 



In FoitKsr and Stj'.kam for Nov. 1st, the question is askec 

 by a pisciculturist, " What kind of grass and weeds would be 

 best adapted to a pond with a gravelly bottom, situated iu 

 "Vermont?" Taking for granted this pond is constructed on 

 the most approved plan, it will be deeper in the middle than 

 at the edges, which conditions are not only favorable to many 

 species of fish, but for the growth of numerous aquatic plants. 

 By the margin, and to a considerable depth, many varieties of 

 this class of plants could be grown. And those deservin" of 

 most attention by the fish culturist belong chiefly to the pond 

 weed family (Pobamogetorb) many of which inhabit the ditches, 

 ponds and rivers of the Northern States, and therefore would 

 be quite at home in Vermont. In addition to Potamos-eton; 

 several others in NaladaceSe are held in still higher esteen 

 and we have been informed bj one who hafl made the habit 

 of ttiit'nivfirniinalis a special study, that the Naiadly anuiehelL 

 polustrib is greatly more prized by that fish than any other ; 

 and all hough not quite common it can easily!)- taken fron' 

 one place to another aud successfully planted. Water i 

 foil, too (;l/>/.-- T ..■.-.": bladderwort (Ihricvtaria), e. 

 eral of which grow under water, and have long floating sien 

 aud fine grass-like leaves, afford, in common with the oth 

 named, quiet retreats and resting-places not only for fish a_ 

 their fry, but for numberless aquatic insects upon which the 

 feed. 



But when the object is to attract winged insects to the •„ 

 tor, another class of plants must be called into requisiticJ. 

 and we know of none better than the common white wate* 

 lily, several of the aquatic grasses and sedges which are dis- 

 tributed over a wide extent of country, and therefore easily 

 obtainable. Some of these, however, should be planted by 

 the margins of ponds, or on islets either natural or formed for 

 the occasion, while others would do equally well within water 

 mark in little bays and creeks; and in addition to luring in- 

 sects thitherward they might, if properly disposed of, add ma, 

 terially to the picturesqueness of the scene, and thereby af- 

 ford so much the more pleasure to men of taste and refine- 

 ment. 



The grasses we would chiefly recommend are Phragmitei 

 communis, Glyceria canadensis, G. elongata, Q. acutiflora, G 

 fluitens and G. aquatica ; Spartina cynosuroids ancl S. strict* 

 Yar glabra, Calamayroatis canadensis. Zeszania aquatica, t 

 though an annual, is yet a noble grass, and holds no mei 

 place in the extensive order to which it belongs. The Sedu 

 famUy might be represented by quite a number of species, bu 

 chiefly by Carexcomosa, C. Crinitaand Pseudo-cypresess, Sc 

 pus polypbyllus and eriophorum. Among exogens, Neic. 

 verticillata, E julobium angusiifoliuui, palustre and colon. 

 turn. Polygomum, Amphibiuru and Fennsylvanicum are wel 

 deserving of a place— some for the beauty of their flower; 

 others for the gracefulness of their forms. Nea-ra we regal 

 as especially appropriate, and when grouped -with Carexc 

 rnosa and crinita presents a miniature picture of rural beau, 

 hardly to be excelled, und needs only to be seen, never mo 

 to ye -or/otten. A. Vbitou. 



Fish Laws and Politics.— The action of theNewHamp 

 shire Fish Commissioners in closing the waters of Lake Wir 

 nipesaukee for sixty days has given rise to some anvusii 

 crimination among the papers of that State. One organ ( 

 upon the people to rise against their" v ::. i I- an 

 imposition of the Republican party. To in. ; the vlam-hcd 

 Mimr replies that the law was drafted by a De :.. 

 passed by unanimous vote of both parties. Me 

 fish are growing fat, and rath r hope for | l 

 rage " of the same sort. 



