328 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
. 
colors. Such are the pleasures of camp life; our recreation 
brings us health and strength, while we are enjoying the 
blessing of him who makes all things beautiful. 
Weremoyed to the far north near the boundary line, 
hoping to he able to enjoy some fishing when the time came, 
but the care of a large hotel, the worry incident to a business 
that demanded constant thought and broken rest at night, 
made me think the happy camping days were the dreams of 
a past, gone never to return, but a change of residence, the 
coming to Duluth, the sight of beautiful but grand old Lake 
Superior has revived all the old longing. 
The boy and I often discuss the kind of boat we shall 
have, and count the number of streams known to contain 
trout within fifty miles of Duluth, The easy means of access 
to them all make us hope that the future is bright with 
promise and that another summer will findus in camp under 
the lofty pines along shore where the ceaseless beat of 
Superior will calm the busy brain und give rest to the hand 
almost constantly driving a pen across page after page. When 
we learn that within a radius of fifty miles twenty streams 
known to have trout in them are found, can one wonder how 
longingly the dream to camp neat them will form one of the 
hopes when winiry storms beat and the thermometer fails to 
record the cold of this region. Lucy J, T, 
Duuours, Minn. 
ECHOES FROM THE TOURNAMENT. 
Lititor Forest and Stream: 
I think the time chosen for the tournaments is too early in 
the season, Many members are not back from the woods 
and summer resorts before November, and at preseut writing, 
Noy. 15, the weather is all that could be desired. A month 
earlier we usually look for storms, and good weather is the 
exception. By the middle of November the fishing season 
is over, except for black bass, and but few fish for them as 
late as that date, In the spring, before the fishing season 
opens, would not be a good time, nor would it be desirable 
to hold the tournaments in mid-summer, but during the good 
days that occur in November, after the first storms and 
frosts have passed, seems to be the best time, Of course it 
is impossible to choose a time which will suit all persons, 
but it seems asif the middle of November might be satis- 
factory to more members than any other time. This year 
the weather happened to be favorable on the days chosen, 
although a rain began at its close which might have set in a 
few hours earlier, and so spoiled the contests. Last year 
the rain did interfere with the casting, or rather with the 
spectators who gathered to witness it. Let us hope to see 
the date of the next contest fixed for later in the season, H. 
Fiditor Forest and Stream: 
The experience of three years seems to show that the mid- 
Ale or latter part of October is a time that continued storms 
are liable to set in and spoil the tournaments. The date is 
entirely too late. If they could be held during the first week 
in September there would bea better chance of suitable 
weather. By that time the trouting season is over, and peo- 
ple are coming back from the country and good weather is 
apt to be the rule. WATERPROOF, 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
Could not a second Jine be run parallel with the measuring 
line, and at a proper distance, for the purpose of keeping the 
judges’ boat where it ought to be? Rings might be placed 
on that second line, with small, short ropes attached, which, 
by means of snaps (such as are used on halters), might be 
fastened to rings or ropes on the boats. The boats could 
then be run along by hand. When I was in the boat last 
year we had a wind toward the line giving distances (or 
from it?), which the same made no little bother. 
ONE CF THE JUDGES. 
DOWN THE SUSQUEHANNA. 
ape “Log of the Bucktail’ has been a very interesting 
series of sketches of pleasant trips in Pennsylvania 
waters, written in ‘‘Nessmuk’s” cheery style, fuil of kind- 
liness to all things in nature, save the fish-hog and the pot- 
hunter. I have enjoyed every one of the papers, as I did 
every line in his breezy old woodsman-like ‘‘Woodcraft,” a 
little volume every lover of nature and every “‘outer” in camp 
and on stream should not fail to secure and treasure in his 
library, for it will bring back tender, pleasant recollections 
of the ‘‘old woods loafer” long after he has joined the great 
ee 
is experience on the headwaters of the west branch of 
the Susquehanna is very like my own on the east branch of 
the same stream, upon a trip I madea few weeks since. 
And alas, his experience and irritation and vexation accord 
exactly with my own during the hundred-mile trip I made 
down this beautiful aud romantic river, for the fish-hog and 
the wiers and dams were almost in sight of each other every 
day of the eight days in which 1 was floating, paddling and 
camping amid 
Hills and bold monntains, hemlock-crowned, 
Past islands, through valleys, the river wound; 
Now pebbles and rocks, and sand and crystal, 
Swift waters, then calm, now shallows and rifile; 
Chestnut and oak, or hemlock and pines, 
Willows and bireh, and elms clad in vines.” 
The camper, the canoeist, in fact the sportsman and outer, 
who loves beautiful scenery, clear waters and pure air need 
not go further from home for it. He may goa long way 
and fare much the worse. The fishing, too, is remarkably 
good, considering the innumerable devices that are openly 
Jaid to rob the stream of game fish, and the butchery that is 
constantly going on. 
During a good many seasons’ experience over a large part 
of the waters of this country I have never seen finer water 
for black bass anywhere. Particularly so is it just above 
Wyalusing and just below Meshoppen, but there is hardly 
any part of the river from the New York line to Wilkes- 
barre that is not excellent ground for bass, and if the illegal 
fishing was only stopped the river would he alive with gamy 
beauties, eager to take any tempting lure that crossed their 
paths. We put in just above the mouth of the Chemung, a 
few miles trom the New York Stale line. and had a most 
enjoyable time camping and fishing during the eight days it 
took us to run the hundred miles to Pittston, 
We had all the fish we wanted to eat'every day, pitching 
tent and camping every night, and did not try for more, as 
we were not fishing for count or market, But the fish dams 
and rivers are what I most wanted to enter my protest 
against, If we only had more ‘‘Nessmuks” we would have 
Jaws and have them enforced, too. I don’t believe there is a 
single five miles on the whole distance we coyered where 
there is not an immense V-shaped or in some instances a great 
W pile of rocks, stakes and stones extending clear across 
the whole stream so that we could with difficulty find a 
place to get through. How we did wish for a hundred or 
two good-sized dynamite cartridges, just to lay them along 
under the sides of some of those dams and see things ‘‘scatter” 
when they exploded, 
Some of these dams must have cost a great deal of time 
and labor to construct, J ust above Towanda, not over two 
miles above the town, they were just putting the finishing 
touches on one, a half dozen teams and a dozen men were 
hard at work up to their knees in water piling up rocks and 
hauling in straw, brush and grayel. As we found a narrow 
shallow opening at one shore, and slipped through, one big 
fellow hailed us with, “Well, ketch eny?’ ‘‘No,” I sung 
out, “‘and there will be less to catch when you get that 
slaughter house done.” Instantly they knew we were sports- 
men, for several shouted their imprecations. 
At Towanda we stopped for some stores and reported 
whit was going on to some gentlemen, but they were quite 
indifferent to the matter. J hope the Fish Commissioners of 
Pennsylvania will see this article and you are at liberty to 
give my name and address at any time and 1 will furnish 
the name of the geutleman with me, and what is more we 
will both go one to two hundred miles at our own expense 
any time that we can aid in having these fish pirates punished 
and their murderous business stopped. Dorsau Fin. 
OcToBER. 
EXPIRED REEL PATENTS. 
i Loe fishing-line reel devised by Wm. H. Van Gieson, 
which is exhibited in Figs, 1, 2.and 3, is arranged to 
clamp the cogwheel which works the shaft about which the 
lineis wound. When clamped the cogwheel and shaft re- 
yolve by friction, avoiding the danger of breaking the ap- 
paratus and losing the line and fish by any sudden jerk or 
wv 
strain which the fish may give to the line. 
bao 
Mei 
‘let ri Lautan a 
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ety 
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To carry out this construction, a coiled spring is employed 
which is held down and the pressure it exerts Is regulated 
by a thumb screw in the center of the crank shaft. The 
other end of the coil-spring rests upon a pin which passes 
through a hole in the friction wheel or collar, E, and 
through a slot in the crank shaft, F. 
By turning down the thumb screw the coiled spring forces 
the pin along the slot in the crank shaft and holds the fric- 
tion wheel, H, against the cogwheel, H, so that it is carried 
round by the crank shaft. The cogwheel, H, works into 
and reyolves the cogwheel, J, attached to the shaft, K, about 
which the line is wound or reeled. : 
Van Gieson asserts that this construction preserves the 
apparatus froni being broken by sudden strains on the line, 
caused by the fish running or turning suddenly. The force 
necessary to break the line or the reel is always less than that 
required to overcome the friction of the cog gear; so that the 
only effect of such a jerk or stfain will be torun out the 
line. The angler may continue constantly reeling in bis line 
from the time the fish is hooked, for when the fish pulls hard 
enough to overcome the friction the line will run out, and 
when the fish slacks up or turns, or runs back or pulls less 
than the friction of the wheel, the gear will immediately act 
and reel in the line. F. B. Broce, 
WasHineton, D. C. 
PICKEREL FISHING THROUGH ICE. 
Oho time approacheth when the rural angler taketh down 
the old cigar box from the kitchen mantel, where it 
has lain since last February, and looketh over his hooks, and 
examineth his lines with a critical eye for tender places. On a 
beam in the woodshed are the ‘‘tip-ups,” of more or less in- 
genious make, and these are also taken down ‘and sur- 
yeyed. The cool nights giye promise of ice on the ponds, 
and as soon as it will bear is the time when the labor of cut- 
ting holes will be the least and this is an important item to 
consider. Many a hole have I cut, when a boy, and many 
a long-snouted snake-eater have I flopped on the ice when 
the weather was so ‘‘Siberious” that it was a question which 
would freeze-first, the fish or I. There isno doubt about its 
being fun, for we looked forward to it each year, and eyen 
dignified it by the name of sport. 
Years brought experience in a higher class of angling, and 
winter fishing was voted dull and stupid. What a pity that 
the freshness of youth should pass and the enthusiasm be 
lost! How we did enjoy many things which have lost their 
savor, a8 we, in process of evolution, are changed from keen 
youths, whose very existence is one complete joy only 
marred by the hours spent in the school-room, to 6/asé men 
of the world who, like Sir Charles Coldstream, have seen 
all that earth affords and declare ‘‘there is nothing in it,” 
We occasionally haye symptoms of our boyish enthusiasm, 
and try hard to enjoy things as we remember we did, a sort 
of reverting to the ancient type, for the boy is said to be 
the father of the man, but the pulse has taken a steady gait 
and declines to spurt as in youth. 
Now it so happened that a friend who was quite wealthy, 
as I wish all my friends were, and owned a little shooting- 
box up in the wilds of Pike county, Pa., asked, one Janu- 
ary morning about six years ago, if I had ever fished for 
pickerel through the ice. He was assured that it had often 
occurred in the dim past, but the desire for it had long been 
outgrown, and that pickerel fishing in winter around a warm 
stove in a country grocery was now a more enjoyable form, 
[Nov. 20, 1884. 
as it was not only more comfortable, but larger fish could 
be taken. 
He had a little lake, it had not been fished in years, no 
matter if the ice was too thick in January his game keeper 
would cut the holes; he would send up a good supply of all 
that makes life worth living, and he prevailed. We found 
the lake solid with twenty-one inches of ice and the wind 
howling. The old game keeper cut twenty holes and the 
snow drifted in them and froze almost as fast as he cut. 
The tip-ups would not work on account of the ice, and so 
we could run around about every half hour and test the lines 
to see if a fish wat on. An evergreen shelter on the shore 
afforded a screeen for men and fire and the live minnows 
were in a bait pail in a spring. We had three days solid 
sport which culminated on the last one by the capture of a 
yellow perch of about half a pound. This was cooked over 
the fire together with a rabbit that had been stopped by a 
bullet from my pistol, and we ate, smoked, and—told stories, 
while the wind howled. My friend asked me as we were 
leaying how Ilikedit. He was answered: ‘Tt may be cold 
and my fingers and toes may ache, my mustache may be 
frozen fo my chin, and an icicle hang from my nose, and there 
may be no pickerel in the lake, but I like it, O, I like it!” 
This was as far as this story was intended to go, but mem- 
ory harks back to a boyish trip from Albany down to Kin- 
derhook Lake, somewhere near forty years ago, more or less, 
and right here some fellows might quote Mazeppa, and say: 
I was a goodly stripling then; 
At seventy years [so may say, 
That there were few, or boys or men, 
Who in my dawning time of day, 
OF vassal or of knight's aegree, 
Could vie in vanities with me; 
For I had strength, youth, gaiety, 
A port, not like to this ye see, 
But as smooth as all is rugged now; 
For time, and care, and war, have ploughed 
My very soul from out my brow; 
And thus I should be disavowed 
By all my kind and kin, could they 
Compare my day and yesterday. 
They might quote that, but I won't mention it because it 
docs not fit in all places. However this may be, the facts are 
that early in December of this year long past, from boys 
ranging in years from ten to fifteen, footed it down to the 
lake mentioned, some ten miles or more, if memory serves, 
and cut holes in the thin ice, and with home-made tip-ups 
which hoisted a flag when a pickerel was on, took out thirty- 
nine pickerel, whose united weight was cighty-six pounds. 
The leader knew the grounds for he had been there before 
in older company, and at night we soid our fish to a carous- 
ing party from Troy, who had only three fish, for five 
dollars, and the holes for five more, a big pile for us, and we 
wended our way home rejoicing. A few years afterward I 
wrote this up in a friend’s fishing album with the following 
parody which he had published in the Albany /tnickerbockes. 
The parody ran: 
The fishers came down like wolves on the fold, 
Their toes were all frosted. their noses all cold, 
Their weather-peeled ‘‘bugles’ soon shone through the town; » 
They called for hot whisky, and gulluped it down, 
Then emptied their boots and wrung out a stocking, 
Showed a few little perch, and swore very shocking; 
Bought the pickerel we had, then lit out of here, 
With “a mighty good cateh,’’ and their skins full of beer. 
Freep MATHER. 
CoLD Sprine Harzor, N, Y. 
WESTERN LANDLOCKED. SALMON. 
NV R. W. A. BALLIE-GROHMAN writes as follows to the 
‘Ht London Field: 
Last year I spent six or seven months in the Kootenay 
district, that hitherto almost entirely unknown, most easterly 
portion of British Columbia, close to the Rocky Mountains, 
which form the boundary line between that province and 
the northwest. There became acgainted with the following 
details, which perhaps, from an ichthyological point of view, 
are of some interest: Kootenay Lake, a beautiful mountain 
tarp, surrounded by high, snow-peaked ranges, some cighty 
miles long and of great depth, is full of salmon, which to 
supply the pot of a hungry camp, we caught one night 
almost, say by the hundredweight, the largest. that tested 
our lines being fish of between 20 pounds and 25 pounds, 
the average weight about half that. Strange to say, these 
fish, as perfect salmon as you could find anywhere, were 
perfect landlocked ichthyological curiosities. To make 
myself understood, the following geographical facts must be 
remembered. The Kootenay River has its source in the 
main chain of the Rockies, and after a course of 400 miles 
it flows into the Kootenay Lake. This lake, while leaving 
numerous feeders in the shape of mountain torrents, has but 
one outlet, up which, however, salmon cannot get, for this 
outiet is a stream, or rather mountain torrent, with high falls 
in it, the highest being quite 40 feet in sheer altitude, It 
empties into the Columbia River. The Columbia, where 
annually (at its mouth) from 15,000,000 pounds to 35,000,000 
pounds of salmon are caught, is for its whole length (1100 or 
1200 miles) free of falls insurmountable by salmon, the 
highest, the world-famed Kettle Falls, being 24 feet in their 
height, and I believe the highest falls on record that are 
known to be leapt by these fish, Salmon, therefore, ascend 
the entire Columbia, and fill, when the high water recedes, 
ihe tiny Upper Columbia Lake, the only source of this great 
river, with masses of dead fish, a great attraction for all the 
bear in the surrounding country. This brings them, however, 
no nearer to Kootenay Lake, where theit existence is so 
extremely puzzling, and which was a standing matter of - 
discussion in our party, among whom there were two fisher- 
men of greut experience; one an English officer, who has 
plied his rod over some of the most famous salmon waters. 
The one explanation we could offer at the time, that the: 
outlet of Kootenay Lake was once without insurmountable 
falls, is far less tenable than the other one, across which 1 
stumbled in about the last place in the world—the reading: 
room of the British Museum. Tne Kootenay River, after 
flowing about a hundred miles through great canons and 
deep gorges, overshadowed by those as yet unascended 
giants of the northern Rockies—Mount Murchison, Richard- 
son, and Lefroy (about 14,000 feet reported altitude)— 
approaches at one point the Upper Columbia Lake to within 
one and a half miles, the intervening strip of land being an 
apparently level stretch of sparsely timbered meadow land. 
I say apparently level, for in reality there is, as we found, a 
difference of more than twenty feet between the surface of 
an : é 
