88 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Aue, 28, 1884, 
fishing tackle, a smattering of boatcraft and a little money 
When the morning came, twenty-five cents of the latter pur- 
chased’a half dozen crabs, and fifty cents more secured a 
sneakbox for the day, At seven we were all together at the 
wharf, my resources andl. We were going to hold by each 
other as Jong as we could. The bay, which was the biggest, 
held the hoat, and was not likely to drop it. The boat held 
me and would not drop me, at least while I kept on the right 
side of it, Finally I held the tackle. The crabs were given 
ample opportunity to take care of themselves. 
Where should we go? Two or three people had strongly 
advised me to go some two miles down the bay to the Cove, 
T had passed the place the day before, and knew the way 
there, and was soon expecting to goto it. But the last man 
T saw, he who gave me the boat, said I had better go to the 
Point. T would have fair wind and tide gomg, and the tide 
back also. Now. E wanted to go to the Cove, but who was 
I to offer my opinion against the advice of an experienced 
bayman. So I deferred to his judgment, and asked for more 
explicit directions. ‘‘Don’t you see that point of land?” he 
said, indicating the direction with his finger ‘‘Yes,” T an- 
swered, for I saw half a dozen straight lines of shore, any 
one of which might have been a point if seen from above. 
“Well,” he returned, “you just sail right up here, and then 
bear away to the left, and you have a straight course and a 
fair wind.” So I put up the sail, started off, but with many 
misivings; for | knew by former sad experience how impos- 
sible it was either for an inland man to understand the 
directions of a waterman, or for a waterman to appreciate 
the ignorance of astranger. The further I weni tlie more 
were my fears of losing myself increased, Right down on 
the water level, I could not tell island from shore, point 
from bay. I never before had found a new place, and Iwas 
not likely to now. Gradually the wind swung more and 
more ahead, so that 1 could hardly lay a straight course, and 
the water became so shallow that my centerboard seraped, 
and if I took it up the boat would noi sail into the wind, 
So I gave up the Point and turned round and went toward 
the Cove. 
With some effort, for T now used my oars, I retraced my 
course, though by a different channel, and after 1 had been 
on the water nearly an hour, I was just opposite my starting 
place and only an eighth of a mile out from it, Here the 
wind failed entirely, The vowing was very laborious, 
because the boat was so fixed that I had to row back- 
handed. The tide was running strong against me, and in 
short, choppy waves which bumped all the life out of my 
rowing. “There wasa dead treetop anchored in the mud to 
mark the channel. A careful observation of it indicated 
my rate of speed to be aboul an eighth of a mile in a 
quarter of an hour. A _ little calculation showed that 
the morning would be gone at that rate before I covered 
my two miles, and my feelings told me that my strength 
would long precede the morning. 
LT surrendered unconditionally. The elements might have 
their own way, I was tired and discouraged; even more, I 
had a suggestive feeling of sea sickness. But now my last re- 
sources came to my aid. 1 had tackle and bait, and was in 
the deep channel. Letting the boat drift, I sought comfort 
in holding my rod, cherishing the hope that some few fish 
had, like myself, been unable to decide whether to go to the 
point” or the ‘‘cove,” and were stili just between the two 
places, ‘ 
My pole was soon rigged, a crab partitioned and one part 
placed on the hook; the bait was fast sinking to the bottom, 
when lo! a few sharp jerks infused new life into me more 
quickly than ever galvanic shocks did intoa fainting man, Yes, 
it is a bite and no mistake, and that quick jerk hooked him, 
and he tugs manfully at the line as I reel up the surplus so 
as to lift him into the boat, Now he is in, and as I contem- 
plate his fifteen inches of mottled side and drop the hook 
again inta the water, I forget weariness, I lose disappoint- 
ment, and wonder whether I really did feel seasick, Scarcely 
hus the bait again reached the bottom, before another jerk is 
felt and another, and in two minutes the second fish is flop- 
ping about the boat. 
And so we proceed for three-quarters of an hour, adding 
one or two fish every five minutes. Then they stopped 
biting. Meanwhile, we had drifted a mile or so toward the 
Point, where a small forest of masts showed that a great 
many boats had found the place if Ihad not. But what 
matter, I mused, as I took out the oars to help the tide, if 
we did lose our way. How like many another experience in 
life. We are baffled in one direction then in another, and 
give up just when we are in the right place. The poet was 
right when he said: 
* Yet on life’s current he who drifts 
Is one with him. who rows or sails.”’ 
Few amateurs at either Cove or Point have caught more 
than fifteen fish thus far. Still, 1 am tired of drifting now, 
and as | cannot gail for lack of wind I settle down to harder 
rowing. Soon a sudden coolness strikes my face, and the 
surface of the bay is all ruffled. It is the breeze again. In 
a mifute the oars are stowed away and the sail filled with 
the wind. The philosopher is certainly right, a boat under 
sail isa much more beautiful thing than one laboriously 
urged by the oar, especially in the eyes of the boatman. 
Fisherman as I aw, it is hard to say which is the most de- 
lightful, to pull the struggling fish from the water or to lean 
back with tiller ropes in hand and watch the bending sail 
and the nearing objects, listening meanwhile to the gentle 
ripple of the water that is parted by the prow of the boat, 
To have the two alternated is as much as any one could ask. 
The sensation of passing from handling the oats to hand- 
ling the rudder is one to be appreciated only by the experi- 
enced, And yet in semblance, that is what most of the 
human race are waiting for. The majority of men are toil- 
ing for their living, bending their backs over their work, 
but they are hoping for the time when they can cease from 
the muscular labor and Jay their hands to the helm, guiding 
either the strength of other men or the energies of nature. 
Toward the same.end the mass of all mankind at large is 
tending, Once they rowed or pushed their own boats, then 
they caught other men and made them row for them; next 
their sails caught the wind, which then drove their vessels, 
aud finally they part the waters by the force of imprisoned 
steam 
Did I think of all this as 1 sailed down to the clustered 
fishing boats? Some of it perhaps, But 1 was more con- 
cerned to place myself near some boat whose occupants were 
fishing successfully. : 
I had reached the Point at last. I had no doubt about it, 
for my director had said that there would be plenty of boats 
there. But the place where the boats were was far from be- 
ing a mathematical point. It was just the reverse of one. 
Tt had magnitude, but no posilion, For the boats were 
spread over a space a quarter of a mile in diameter, and 
were all drifting with the tide. 
_ For an hour and a half J drifted and rowed and sailed 
from place to place, dropping my line here and there, and 
added slowly to my catch till it numbered twenty-two. 
About noon I put up my tackle and turned homeward. The 
tide was now in my favor, but the wind blew a stiff breeze, 
ight from the landing to my boat, which was over two 
miles from it. It was an even tack either way, and my boat 
heing a sneakbox, with a round, smooth prow, would not 
go as close to the wind as did the yachts, But it was a 
splendid sail home, though it took two hours. There ig a 
peculiar pleasure in sailing against the wind, It seems like 
making headway against opposition. Any thing can go 
before the wind, a log or a board, but to go really into its 
teeth is a matter of philosophy and skill. So J felt it, as 
seated in the very bottom of the boat to catch as little air as 
possible, I kept my hand on the tiller ropes and my eyes on 
the sail, and took the air on my cheek, first one and then the 
other, as I tacked. 
I finally drew up to the wharf, gaye the boat to its care- 
taker, and hunted up some dinner, more than ever impressed 
with the virtues which the Jersey coast shows to those who 
are willing to wear blue flannel and rough it a little. 
PENN. 
TIM AND SEVEN PONDS. 
Adite Forest and Stream: 
Friday morning, August 1, we left Boston en route for 
Tim and Seven Ponds. Our party consisted of a gentleman 
friend, myself and wife. We came by the Boston and 
Maine R. R. to the Portland transfer station, thence by the 
Maine Central R. R. to Farmington, and from there the 
Sandy River R. R. conveyed us to Strong, where we were 
provided with a good supper at Porter’s, After tea we pro- 
ceeded by stage to Kingfield, a distance of thirteen miles, 
where we were made comfortable for the night at the Mt, 
Abraham House. The next morning we took the stage again, 
and aftcr stopping at a farmhouse and enjoying a good 
country dinner, we reached Smith’s farm at 3 o’clock P. M. 
The house is situated on a high hill, and from it a most won- 
derful view of the country can be had, There we doffed 
traveling suils, donned fishing rigs and started on onr way 
into the genuine wilderness. My wife and friend had sad- 
dled horses, but I walked most of the way, not liking horse- 
back riding, occasionally mounting the buckboard which 
conveyed our baggage, A little way from the farmhouse 
we turned into a pasture and soon passing over the last 
cleared Jand this side of Canada, we found ourselves in the 
primitive forest. After a rough- but interesting ride of six 
miles we reached Tim Pond, The snug log cabins with 
their pleasant porches and neat surroundings, standing on 
ground sloping to the edge of the lovely pond, which Hes 
encircled by the hills, closely wooded from the summit to the 
water's edge, form a most delightful scene for the tired 
traveler’s eye; and we at once felt that ‘‘our lines were cast 
in pleasant places.” Our log cabin, which was only finished 
the night before, was as neat and comfortable as one could 
wish. The attentive steward had a cheerful fire in the 
Franklin fire-place, and it really seemed conifortable although 
it was Aug. 2, and his excellent wife soon had a good supper 
on the table in the camp dining room, introducing us at 
once to that delicacy, fried trout. And when we came to 
stretch out wearied limbs on those fir-palsam bough beds, our 
satisfaction was complete, We have slept many nights on 
bough beds, but never on such restful ones as at Tim and 
Seven Ponds. No aching bones in the morning from sleep- 
ing on ridges, 
We at once decided that only one thing more was needed 
to complete our comfort, and thatwas to have good luck 
fishing, A few trials of after-supper fishing showed us that 
Tim Pond is indeed the angler’s paradise. We have spent 
one week at Seven Ponds since our coming here, and were 
just as much delighted with the place and camps as we were 
at Tim Pond. The distance from Tim to Seven ponds is a 
little over thirteen miles, but the first mile can be made 
easier by crossing the pond and joining the buckboard as it 
turns off the beach and winds around and over hills, and 
through valleys, with not a trace of man’s presence or handi- 
work, except the road, which is a continual reminder of, 
what an earnest man can accomplish when he tries. The 
seenery is even grander than at Tim Pond. The Boundary 
Mountains, as they are called, loom up in the northwest and 
form a grand background for that gem of waters, Big Island 
Pond. ‘Then there are L. and Rock ponds within easy dis- 
tance of the camps, and scattered about a little further off 
are five or six other small ponds, all available as fishing 
grounds, You are within four miles of Canada when at the 
camps at Seven Ponds. ‘The fish in these waters are some- 
What larger than those at Tim Pond and equally gamy. 
Large strings can be taken, but all true sportsmen will stop 
when the needs of camp are supplied and not catch to 
waste, . 
We know by the tracks of large game on the shores, the 
flutter of partridges frequently started up by our party as 
we rode through the woods, and the glimpse of wild ducks 
as we fish in the various ponds, that both Tim and Seven 
Ponds must be an ideal retreat for the hunter in the bunting 
season. 
These camps are more than 2,000 feet above the sea, the 
air is dry and pure, and guests are supplied with water from 
clear sparkling mountain springs. There is fly-fishing dur- 
ing the entire season. I hope this letter may influence some 
sportsmen who are acquainted with this region to visit it 
this fall, and try its hunting and fishing facililies, for l know 
they will not be sorry. They will probably say as one party 
did who visited this place by my advice last July: ‘1 only 
regretted that I couldn’t stay longer. It is one of the few 
places where they do not promise more than they fulfill.” 
We are still at Tim Pond, and at the close of August shall 
regretfully leave this charming spot, only comforting our 
selyes with the thought that a year will soon roll away, and 
if all goes well we will again visit Tim and Boe ues 
Tim Pon, Me., Aug, 18. 
Tur Posrep Connecricur Srreams.—The editor of the 
New Haven Morning Neins is an angler, and even when fly- 
ing across the country behind a locomotive his thoughts 
turn to the trout streams. Here is what he thinks about the 
posting of streams: “During a recent trip up country as we 
passed various trout streams on the flying railroad car, we| B 
were struck with the number of creeks and brooks which in 
technical phrase were ‘posted.’ Along almost all of them, 
nailed to some riparian trees or capping a stake was the 
ominous sign which warned anglers away frem the pisca- 
torial joys of the banks, The change set usa thinking. 
Not a quarter of a century has gone by since scarcely a 
stream was posted in Connecticut. In those days fishing, so 
long as the anglers did not trample down the farmer’s grass 
lot, was free as air, We nursed a sort of popular prejudice 
against. any invasion of the fisherman's traditional rights. 
The notion of ‘protecting’ fish had an alien and foreign 
savor, smacking somewhat of the exclusiveness of British 
Jandholding. As boys we were allowed to catch trout just 
as we had the privilege of going chestnuting or crossing 
the bucolic pasture lot; and the man was aapmelt mean 
and narrow who ordered the angler away from his brook 
because he wanted to catch more fish himself. From some 
motives this growing system of private posting of streams 
may be- defended. It is certain that the trout in many 
of our streams where he used to abound has become 
a rare and transitory visitor. The clear waters still dash 
on, sparkle in the sun, pour in foam-crested torrents 
into their old basins, or break into the long ripples which 
the tront loves. The old habitations are there, but the 
finny natives have gone long ago to the angler’s creel. 
‘More fishermen than fish’ has been the terse and 
blunt explanation of the change. Yet in many country 
streams remote from the cities, even now, the trout is more 
than an occasional phenomenon. He breeds freely, and with 
proper protection all our splendid streams could be restocked, 
With a comparatively small supply of the fry by the State, 
coupled with general prohibition for a few years, we might 
yet find the old times restored, when the angler with a few 
hours’ sport could fill his basket, But to compass such an 
end the law would have to be very general, very restrictive, 
and what seems almost impossible with sporting laws in this 
State, very rigidly enforced. Private ‘posting’ by individual 
owners of riparian lands sometimes protects the fish but 
oftener defeats its end. The reason of this is because our 
streams are seldom posted from any motive but the selfish 
spirit of profit. ‘With a $5 bill I can fish down any stream 
in Connecticut,’ said a successful angler to us one day last 
spring; and he was pretty nearly right. In plainer words, 
men protect their streams not so much for the sake of the 
lish as for the almighty dollar that the trout now and then 
brings into the household treasury. People who don’t know 
a trout from a sucker and who would as soon think of fish- 
ing as of suicide, are often the first to drive away the angler 
or make him ‘come down’ with his toil in the form of Unele 
Sam's promises lo pay. Im consequence the streams most. 
fished are often those that are most severely ‘preserved.’ 
Prohibition does not prohibit but works a good deal like 
prohibition of liquor selling in increasing the prevalence of 
the evil prohibited, The sign board attracts the angler who 
can afford his fee and baits him with délusivye hopes. So 
Jong, however, as a land-owner’s control over the streams 
that wind through his property is unlimited there appears to 
be no legal expedient for averting the extermination of the 
trout; or, if there is such an expedient, it brings up a ques- 
ae for the State and her law-makers rather than for the 
editor.” 
Buverisn In Lone IsnAnp Sounp.—Huntington, L. L, 
Aug. 25.—For years the bluefish have declined to come into 
Long Island Sound very far. True the young fish, of the 
size of a man’s hand, locally called ‘‘snappers” or ‘‘saapping 
mackerel,” come as far west as Whitestone, and possibly go 
clear through the Sound, if not killed by the vile compounds 
emptied into Newtown Creek at Hunter’s Point by the 
Standard Oil Works. It is unusual to find the Jarge fish of 
two to four pounds as far west as this place, which is about 
the middle of the island, and near the line belween the coun- 
ties of Queens and Suffolk. Here they are, though, and are 
being taken in fair numbers. I heard of them at Port Jef- 
ferson and at Smithtown, but did not expect to find them 
here, where I came for rest to a sprained wrist, and not for 
fishing. I learn that Iam within two miles of the hatchery 
of the New York Fish Commission at Cold Spring Harbor, 
and will run over and see it soon. The hatching of fish has 
always interested me, but I have never seen the apparatus, 
nor met the well-known superintendent of this fish factory. 
Should I learn anything new I may drop you a line on the 
institution. —PoKE-0’- MOONSHINE. 
Bust Conor FoR Leapers.—New Haven, Conn., Aug, 
21.— Editor Yorest and Stream; 1 have been very much in- 
terested in Mr, Wells’s series of articles in your paper, and 
sincerely hope he will continue them during the fall and 
winter, In regard to the best color for leaders I think it de- 
pends a great deal on what kind of a day it is, and what 
kind of a. stream you are going to fish. Ifitis a clear day, 
and the edges only of the stream are overhung with bushes, 
allowing the sun to strike the ceuter of the stream, I should 
use an azure, or greenish blue, leader; but if it was-a cleudy 
day, with trees overhanging the stream, over the center and 
everywhere, I should use a greenish mist-colored leader. If 
Mr, Wells will take the glass bottom off from his box 
and substitute a wooden one with a hole in it large enough 
to let the tube of his camera (I suppose he has one) slide into 
the tube and then putty all around it so as to make it water- 
tight, put the bottom on his box, fll with water, draw the 
leader across the top, adjust the focus, and take a photograph 
of it, if he wishes, I think he will see how the leader ap- 
pears to the fish, as near as it is possible for us to find out,— 
SALMO, 
Toe West Istanp Crus.—Newport, R. I, Aug. 25.— 
Fishing for striped bass has been exceedingly poor here this 
season. It is said to be better further east, about Martha’s 
Vineyard, and Cuttyhunk and Pasque Islands. President 
Arthur is at the West Island Olub and did not come in to- 
day to review the North Atlantic squadron, which arrived at 
noon, Report here says that the bass have struck in and this 
may be the reason why the President has postponed the re- 
view until Friday. If sol hope he is having the success he 
deserves as a patient and persevering angler, and he shows 
his usual level-headedness in preferring bass fishing to re- 
viewing anything. Up to the present time the bass have 
been small and searce.—Roccus. 
Maine Trout,—Machias, Me., Aug. 20,—I send photo- 
graph of twenty-four trout caught in Cathume Lake in the 
town of Cooper, by Warden E. H. Smith and E. H. Stod- 
dard, of the Eastern Hotel, average weight a little over two 
pounds each. Iregret my business would not allow me to 
cast a fly with them. Who will not say there is not a mine 
of wont, pleasure and health in our forests and lakes?—§. 
DELAWARE Percu,—Philadelphia, Aug. 22.—Perch fish- 
ing is now very good at Betterton; the fish bite better off 
Grove Point than any other, and are being caught in num- 
bers there.—Homo.- 
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