* 7 
boat, and at this point the fisherman will find a variety of 
salt water fish, ‘ 
The propeller Greenwich fleaves St. Augustme for New 
Smyrna twice or thrice weekly, at. which point good hotel 
accommodations will be found, But if the fisherman desires 
a variety of sport and someone to point out the fishing 
“drops,” be should secure accommodations with ‘Old Man 
Paceltie.” At New Smyrna the fishing is very tair, but not 
to be compared with points further south, At this point 
sheepshead, sea trout, mangrove snapper, bonefish, yellow- 
tails, grunts, cavallie, bass and other fish can be captured. 
Tf the fisherman possesses a boat he can ascend Mosquito 
Lagoon and pass through the canal (or Haulover) to the 
head of Indian River, and by working his way through the 
intricate channel of this extensive salt-water lagoon, he will 
in time reach the inlet, where superior fishing can be enjoyed. 
If the sportsman is desirous of adopting a shorter and 
quicker route, he can ascend the 8t. John’s River to bead 
of navigation, cross over to Rock Ledge, and take steamer 
to inlet. At Rock Ledge good boats with experienced cap- 
tains can be chartered. At the inlet fish in endless quan- 
tity and great variety can be captured. Inthe streams tribu- 
tary to the Indian River the fishing is very fine, and in some 
of them the gamy cavallii exist in great numbers and of 
large size. Between Indian River and the St. John’s, Nim- 
rods will find deer and turkey, and may cultivate the 
acquaintance of a bear. j 
Lake Worth, a short distance south of the inlet, will be 
found worthy of a visit; more especially if the fisherman is 
disposed to blister his fingers capturing bluefish, On the 
rocks off Lake Worth Inlet, sea fish will be found in great 
numbers and variety. If the océan is calm the sportsman 
can pass out of the inlet on the ebb and return on the flood. 
On the main Jand, west of the lake, deer and turkey are 
comparatively plentiful. During the coming winter steamers 
will ply on the river, and fishermen can reach any desirable 
point, At present, accommodations for tourists and fisher- 
meu are limited on the lower river, At Lake Worth, Dim- 
mock has opened a hotel, and is prepared to accommodate 
twenty persons. 
South of Lake Worth the fishing and shooting is very good, 
but owing to the heavy seas and the possibility of an easterly 
gale rising, the passage along the coast might 1esult in dis- 
aster. If sportsmen are desirous of visiting the Hillsboro or 
New tivers, and Biscayne Bay, they should charter a sea- 
worthy boat with an experienced captain. These are obtain. 
able on Indian River. Taking advantage of a westerly wind 
the experienced sailor may make the outside trip to Biscayne 
Bay in a small boat. But Iam not disposed to risk the 
treacherous Atlantic, and if I ever reach Biscayne Bay, it 
will be from the west, From Cape Sable the eastern coast 
can be safely navigated as far as Miami in an ordinary 
canoe. FRESCO, 
INCIDENTS ON A CRUISE IN CLEW BAY. 
BY REV. WM. ADAMS, D.D. 
i. 
HE town of Westport, the great-grandmother of all the 
“Westports,”’ is situated in the county of Mayo, proy- 
ince of Connaught, Northwest of Ireland. It is a small, 
neat, well-built and thriving little town, embosomed in _ hills 
which are wooded to their summits. It is both watered and 
oruamented by a nameless lictle river or creek, which is Ted 
by limpid mountain rivulets, and which empties itself into 
OClew Bay, one mile from the town. In the suburbs of this 
town the writer spent some years of his boyhood, during 
which he became familiar with every nook and corner in 
mountain and meadow, sea, lake and river in that entire 
resion, This writer could, therefore, entertain his readers 
with minute particulars of Irish weddings, wakes, fuirs, races, 
fox hunts, hare hunts, or even whisky-still hunts, Many a 
time has he been out with the ‘‘gagers” (revenue officers) 
on the Jatter hunt, and many a long race has he kept up with 
in order to witness the capture of a moonshiner. The present 
article is not, however, a reminiscence of early associations, 
but a record of incidents in a recent cruise in the beautiful 
Clew Bay. 
i, 
“That I may niver die at all, and nobody kill me, so that 
T may have a snug and easy time lavin’ this world; but he’s 
the biggest sale l ever laid my two livin’ eyes on.” The 
author of this lively and emphatic exclamation was Jobnny 
Woods, an Irish “boy,” fifty-four years of age, height five 
feet ten and a half, hair thick, short, and closely matted to- 
ether, and as black as a raven; complexion like that of an 
ndian, two arms, long and strong, only one hand, however, 
between them, but that a very useful and skillfulone, At 
the end of one arm an iron crook was substituted for the 
hand that had been shot off in the days of double-barrel 
“‘muzzleloaders.” Johnny Woods (he always objected to 
being called “John,” “Call me Jolunny, sir, for shortness, 
av ye plase”) lives in a small cabin at the Quay of Westport, 
and keeps a sailivg boat with fishing tackle, and guns for 
hire, Ou the occasion in which the aboye characteristic ob- 
servation was made, Johnny and the writer were cruising 
between Clew Bay and Newport Bay in search of seals, 
Johnuy had but one of a crew, who performed the duties of 
second officer, cook, quartermaster, and man before the 
toast. This was his son Tommie, a boy of fifteen years of 
age, who, in obedience to orders, from time to time, with 
the agility of a monkey, made from the cabin to the mast- 
head, swept the lee sides of the islands for the basking seals, 
and like his father, yery strongly emphasized the result of 
his survey whenever he succeeded in discovering the game, 
The seal referred to was not basking, but fishing. ‘'He’s 
blowing, father, like a bellows,” exclaimed Tommie, ‘‘Tt 
might as well be a ‘she,’ Tommie, me son o’ brass. But 
what are ye waitin’ for? Down withthe sails, man. Oagh! 
murther! do ye hear the way that young omadhan is lettin’ 
that jib rattle. Oagh! what itis to haye a son an oanshough, 
Now, thin, out wid the auchor, aisy now, succer a vic suc- 
“eer an’ aisy, don’t let it make a splash, Tommie, maloughal, 
‘Ye see, yer Rivyerence, that saleis in deep water, but in two 
hours it’!] be ‘nib’ tide an’ he’ll go ashore.” 
“An’ where'll he go to, father?” asks Tommie, ‘‘Oh, thin, 
yer Riverence, isn’t it an aggravatin’ circumstance to have a 
son that never would learn anything? Now, sir that gossun 
has been on the Finch Rock (a small island) a hundred times 
an’ he has niver yet found out that that big sale over there 
has built himself an illegant residence, fesbtooned wid tapes. 
thry, Throught he has a drawin’-room in there, Tommie, 
‘ed bate the one in Lord Sligo’s castle, ye’ll see the pictures 
on the walls of it when ye land, Tomtie.” 
‘By this time we are in a small boat with muffled oars, 
Tommie in the bow, Johnny pulling the second oar, and 
myself at the helm. b 
“Now thin, sir, steer for the weather side of the island 
country matron, was on the fioor, 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
and now Tommie, me son, take yer time and do it well, and 
do a good deal of it.” All this was said in whispers, with 
solemn gravity, and withoufia muscle moving in Woods's 
face. Having reached the point for which we steered and 
gained the summit of the island, an elevation of several 
bundred feet, we waited patiently for our game to come 
ashore, While doing so I once more took in the glories of 
that entire region. 
The island itself is situated hetween the two bays already 
mentioned. Olew Bay itself, extending but twelve miles 
from east to west, and four from north fo south, has 166 
islands, some of them quite extensive and densely populated, 
others small, steep and verdant to their summits, and again 
others but long snowy lines of sand and gravel, some per- 
fectly straight and some curying gracefully or twisted fan- 
tastically by the action of the water. 
The conical Croach-Patrick or ‘the Reek” forms part of 
the background of this beautiful landscape. The rugged de- 
cliyities of this mountain run down to the water’s edge. 
The mountain itself is 2,510 feet above sea level. It seems 
to terminate in a point; though on its summit is a small plat- 
form of half an acre. On the south side is a steep precipice 
called Lug na Narrich, on the edge of which tradition says 
St. Patrick stood, bell in hand, and every time he rang it he 
flung it from him, and it, instead of plunging down the Lug, 
was brought back to his hands by ministering spirits, and 
every time it thus hastily was rung, thousands of toads, 
adders, and noisome things went down tumbling neck and 
heels one after the other, What Croach-Patrick is to Clew 
Bay, Nephin Beg is to Newport Bay. This magnificent sheet 
of water is also gemmed wilh green islands and almost sur- 
rounded by mountain renges. 
But to return to Johnny Woods and the seal, Witha 
good glass we watched our game for nearly two hours; saw 
it go down and rise, then timed it and found that it stayed 
four minutes under water. While we were thus employed a 
circumstance occurred which relieved the monotony of the 
watch, A shadow flitted right across us, and spontaneously 
lifting our eyes there floated far above our heads a herring 
gull (Largus argentatus). Woods instantly said to me, 
“Watch him, sir, watch him.” While doing so, just as he 
crossed over the spot in which our seal was fishing, he sud- 
denly paused, rose almost perpendicularly a hundred feet or 
more, and, poising himself, gathered his wings together and, 
like an arrow, darted straight downward into the sea, how 
deep I know not, but the echoes of that tremendous explo- 
sion through those islands I shall never forget. It was as if 
a heavy cannon had been fired and a huudred more along 
the mountain ranges had answered it. The bird rose directly 
with a large fish in its mouth, which it instantly devoured. 
| haye seen many small gulls divein the same way, but never 
before nor since have | seen this king of gulls do so, and 
here I may mention the ingenious device of the islanders 
for securing the feathers and oil of this magnificent bird. 
A piece of hard deal board is painted water color, and, with 
a perfectly fresh fish fastened to it, ig anchored in a certain 
depth of water, Seeing the fish, but not the board, the gulls 
dive in the manner described, strike the board with terrific 
force and instantly kill themsclyes. The plunge of the gull 
by no means disconcerted the movements of the seal, which 
had now come nearer to the shore, with the evident inten- 
tion of basking. It was time, therefore, for us to steal 
nearer to the lee side of the island and keep him to wind- 
ward of us, forif we got to windward of him he was in- 
stantly gone. Our plan now was to watch when he dived 
and then to rise and run for three minutes, and then, before 
he got up, throw ourselves flat upon the ground and wait 
until he had risen and dived again, In this way we got 
within range, and while he was climbing between two rocks 
put a bullet in his head, 
iu, 
Having secured our seal, which measured nearly five feet 
in length, we started for another quarter of the bay, which 
we had nosooner reached than we found ourselyes in a 
dense fog, This effvctually put a stop to all further sport 
for the present, so after waiting till nighfall we again took 
to the small boat and made for an adjacent island. The 
name of this island is Innishfesh. Jt had one solitary house, 
occupied by a family named Berry. Notwithstanding that 
the isJands were perfectly familiar to us both, so deuse was 
the fog that it was nearly midnight before we made the one 
we wanted. The family had long since retired; the dogs, 
however, were wide awake, and their barking alarmed the 
entire household. Before we had time to knock at the door 
the eldest son, Pat, came out, and without expressing any 
surprise, or asking us who we were or what we wanted, ex- 
claimed, ““Yer heartily welcome, gintlemen;” and although 
this was my first introduction to Pat Berry and his family, a 
cordial inyitation was at once extended to enter the house. 
It was a one-story thatched cottage with thiee rooms, the 
middie one of which was the kitchen. Pat with his brother 
Michael occupied one room, three daughters the other, and 
the old father and mother slept in the *‘collaugh,” an outlet 
from the kitchen large enough to holdabed. The house was 
perfectly dark when we entered it, but a friendly voice from 
the collaugh exclaimed, “God save ye, gintlemen.” This 
was Mrs. Berry. The answer was “God save ye kindly, 
ma’am ” : 
“Arrah now, and who is it sure?” seemed to come from 
the same voice in the wall. Being told who it was, the 
good lady exclaimed: ‘‘Horar! Honor, whisper me this ar’nt 
ye gettin’ up? Don’t ye hear; there’s company come?” A 
clear ringing laugh came down to us and a gir)’s sweet voice 
answered: ‘‘Mother, that’s a-loud whisper. I'll be down 
directly.” And down she came, a nymph, as I afterward 
saw, with long, wavy hair as black as jet. But here I stop. 
Honor Berry | cannot portray. She was a beautiful Irish 
girl—she is such still—that is sufficient, } 
By this time the good mother herself, around, plump, 
How she dressed herself 
in the dark, | know not, but dressed she was, and calling 
out to Pat to bring the grisset, ond praying ‘bad luck 
to the cat that ate me tallow candle on me last night.” 
The ‘‘grisset” being brought, some grease was melted in it, 
and with a flaxen wick, a light was soon provided (it was 
then, of course I had the first look at Honor Berry),. By 
ilis time Pat had made a fire, and every soul was up, dressed 
and in the full flow of conversation. The kettle was put 
on, tea provided, stories told and fun and frolic went on 
for hours. Let the reader remember that this is not a grand- 
father’s storv, but that of a morern divine, who loves to 
preach the gospel] of his Muster and also loves to take a fly- 
rod and a rifle and to make the most of a vacation; and the 
facts here recorded are not those of the “long and pleasant 
pust.” but those of yesterday. Mrs. Berry, Pat and the 
queenly Houor are all liyiug and well, May they continue 
prosperous and happy. 
‘sity of the report. 
288 
Toward the small hours of the morning I was inyited to 
retire, and wrapped in a new blanket, soft and white, of 
Mrs, Berry’s own manufaciure, I slept some hours. In the 
meantime it was arranged that Woods should return to 
Westport and that I should spend the next few days salmon 
fishing on the Burrosoul lakes. My tackle was a ten-ounce 
rod, a Frankford reel, twenty-five yards of silk line and a 
nine-foot leader of gut, a few flies from the wing of a raj] 
(Rallus aquaticus), better known in Ireland as the ‘‘corn- 
crake.” With these J killed on the first day eleven salmon 
trout weighing over fifty pounds, and the second day I 
landed nine of the same kind and about the same weight. 
These tish are not second to the salmon itself, the flesh is not 
as red, however, it is rather a pink color, but the flavor is 
much more delicate. On the Burrosoul Jakes I had two 
boatmen, Pat Berry and Hugh Deeyers, his cousin, There 
was a small cottage on one side of the lake, and Pat asked 
Hugh, ‘‘Who lives in that house?” Hugh replied, ‘A man 
named Malley.” '‘What Malley do you mean?” asked Pat 
again, ‘Why, Malley that died,” was Hugh’s sage reply. 
i stayed several days with these kind people, and would 
have prolonged my visit but they would accept no remuner- 
ation for their trouble. In fact, all the time they tried to 
make me feel that I was doing them a favor, This is no 
solitary instance of Irish hospitality experienced by the 
author of this sketch. Right well do [ remember being ship- 
wrecked near the same place, and after a merciful deliverance 
from a terrible death, was carried into a public inn, in the 
little town of Newport, where fora week I was tenderly 
nursed, and when able to resume my journey the innkeeper 
handed me my bill receipted. 
atuyal History. 
THE BEAR’S POT. 
N the north shore of the Gulf of St. Lawrence and 
about eighteen miles west of Mingan is the mouth of a 
fine salmon river called St. John. 
I am told by Mr, Napoleon A. Comeau that about forty- 
five miles up the river is a fall, and that in a rock alongside 
the fall is a poi-hole, about the sizeof a puncheon, In June 
of each year a great many of the jumping salmon, in their 
altemps to leap the fall, tumble into this hole. So many, 
indeed, meet with this misfortune that the pit is actually filled 
with them. 
Now bears abound on this part of the coast, and for many 
generations they haye come, at the proper time each year, 
to feed on the luckless sulmon. Numerous well trodden 
paths Jeading from the pit penetrate the forest in various 
directions, and the rock is smeared with grease and hairs, 
The firm of Frazer & Holliday of Quebec (owners of the 
Moise salmon fishery) heard of this from the Indians, and 
despatched a man io ihe place to ascertain the truth or fal 
Returning, he confirmed the Iodians’ 
tale in every particular, The Oanadian government was 
notified and had the rock blasted in such a way that the sal- 
mon could no longer be caught in the pot-hole, and the bears 
have since been forced to content themselves, so far as fish are 
concerned, with what capelin they could catch in the tide 
pools. C, Harr Merriam. 
Locust Grove, N. Y, 
SWAINSON’S WARBLER REDISCOVERED 
(Helmintherus woainsonz). 
Tiditor Forest and. Stream: 
Since the discovery of this bird in South Carolina by Bach- 
man half a century ago it has always been considered one of 
the very rarest species of our Eastern fauna, Until the pres 
ent year very few specimens have been known to natural- 
ists, and scarcely anything has been added to our knowledge 
of its history beyond the original account that Audubon 
gave, During the past season, however, some fifty or sixty 
specimens have been precured in the vicinity of Charleston, 
S. C., chiefly by a correspondent cf mine, Mr, Arthur T. 
Wayne, who sends me his valuable and interesting notes, 
with the request that I would arrange them for publication. 
The matter stands as one of the most remarkable evisodes in 
the late history of our birds. ELLIoTT Cougs. 
“Swainson’s warbler,” writes Mr. Wayne, ‘‘arrives in the 
vicinity of Charleston about the 22d of April, and remains 
as a summer resident, none wintering. As is the case with 
many other birds, the males come first, the females about a 
week Jater, when the mating immediately begins, The 
notes of the male are exquisite—like a clear ringing whistle, 
which can be heard at least a fourth of a mile away if the 
wind is still. The power and volume of the song is wonder- 
ful, considering how small is the creature from which it pro- 
ceeds, and one can hardly be convinced until he has actually 
seen the birds singing, These are, of course, only the love 
notes. The eggs are laid early in May. This I know. 
although I have never found a nest, by dissecting a female 
shot May 10, that had already laid all but one of her eggs, 
this last one being nearly ready for the shell. Ihave no 
d»ubt that the nest will be found to be placed on the ground, 
as usual, with species of Helmintherus aud Helminthophaga. 
The first brood is abroad late in June, thatis, onthe way; it 
usually numbers four. The second brood is abroad early in 
August, The male sings his love song while preparing for 
this event, but less vigorously and wilh less of the romantic 
fire of sexual abandon, than during the fervor of his yernal 
passion, The female has no song, merely a chirp in recog- 
nition of her lord’s presence and attentions. The song of 
the male ceases entirely when the second brood appears. 
Cares have sobered him till next spring, and lis feeble incon- 
sequential chirp is but a listless answer to his mate. They 
both go away late in September—vanish by the 25th, 
“You will find Swainson’s warbler in deep, dark, gloomy 
swamps; where venomous snakes abound, and bloodthirsty 
mosquitoes almost drive one wild, is the chosen home of our 
voluminous Anacreon. You will look for him in yain on 
highlands orin dry woods. He is the minstrel of the swamp, 
where decaying logs lie heaped inextricably in the stagnant, 
water, where the fretwork of climbing vines is laced to the 
standing shrubs, and the pond lilies diffuse their perfume 
from the cups with which they drink in the struggling sun- 
beams. He is a shy recluse, though notascetic, truly; some- 
times as hard 10 see a8 a (Gedroca or a cormorant, yet again 
appearing absorbed in inward contemplation and vblivious 
of your presence. Once I saw one, in August, that seemed 
positively lost in reverie. It walked on the ground but a 
couple of feet from me, singing the while as if delighted 
with its dream, as it idly turned the dead leaves over, takin 
