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[Jan. 15, 1885, 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
489 - 
ally Jeft covered. Into the streams leading in these the trout 
found their last refuge. Then the swamps were cut off, and 
the stn blazed down on the spring heads. The water was 
warmed before it had really seen the light. The trout had 
nothing left to do except die. But the improved methods of 
farming are briuging their own remedy; hundreds of stew- 
ing swamps have been made dry ground by under drains. 
These are pouring out the steady supply of cold spring 
water. If the ditch which receives the water be deep an 
narrow, instead of broad and shallow, and if cattle can be 
prevented from trampling it up, there is a trout brook ready 
made, If the ditch be not more than an eighth of a mile 
long, it will support a hundred trout; if it have open com- 
munication with larger water, the supply will be maintained. 
If the drains open into a stream too large for them to cool, 
let deep pools be made between the mouths of the drain and 
the stream. 
Many persons might object to putting trout in such places 
for fear that they would wander off into adjacent waters 
and be lost. But my observation leads me to believe that 
the fish will not go down streain to warm water till cold 
weather comes on, and when they return in the spring will 
go back to the place whence they came. There were half a 
dozen brooks to which the trout of my neighborhood might 
have traveled, but ihey stuck to the one stream. 
During nine months of the year any Pennsylvania water 
is cold enough for trout. What remains to be done is to 
provide for them for the remaining three, or this time 
they will accept very limited quarters if the temperature is 
low. I have taken nine-inch trout from places where a nDine- 
inch square would have dammed the whole stream. The 
fish will range through two miles of stream during the fall 
and winter and spring, if they can find an eighth of a mile 
of cold water fora retreat in summer. As they come up 
stream in spring they may be caught in the larger part of 
the stream by any means which the fisherman chooses to 
adopt. In the narrow parts bait only is available, but in 
these places the fish should be left pretty much undisturbed, 
Of course it is essential that the fishing of such streams 
should be restricted to the amount which experience shows 
the stream to bear. The general public must be kept off. 
Hence one person must own the whole stream, or two or 
three neighbors must join in protecting the water, There 
are hundreds of brooks in the older parts of the country 
which are the counterparts, naturally, of my little stream. 
Jn nearly all of these trout should be found. The main ob- 
ject of this article is to encourage the owners or neighbors 
ot such streams to shelter them as much as possible, to keep 
them open for the periodical migrations of the fish, and to 
try the experiment of stocking them, A few fish will do 
for the trial. 
If as much effort were putin this direction as is being 
made in the raising of German carp, the result would be 
better, both for the angler and the epicure. PENN. 
THE BEST PANFISH 
[* a letter sent you last spring I gaye you an account of 
some fishing in Texas waters, not in any way remark- 
able for fine sport only as a pleasant trip, sufficiently suc- 
cessful ta be enjoyable to me and my companions. Now I 
wish to say a few words to my brother fishermen about the 
best panfish in the West, a fish not sufficiently appreciated 
probably because it has no game qualities and is so easy to 
catch, 
I haye caught, cooked and eaten this same fish in four 
States, and bearing four names. My boyhood days were 
spent upon the banks of Elkhorn Creek, one of the prettiest 
streams In Central Kentucky, The fish was there called the 
‘newlight,” so called from the fact that it made its appear- 
ance there about the same time that Alexander Campbell, 
Barton W. Stone, and others of those noble, srand old men 
started the religious sect called by themselyes Christians, but 
by their opponents “‘Campbellites,” or ‘‘Newlights.” The 
next place I found this fish was in Drennon Creek, in Henry 
county, Ky., where they were called ‘‘calico perch.” They 
were very abundant in Drennon Creek, and a few miles 
above where it emptied into the Kentucky River [ caught 
some grand strings. This was quite near the home of Dr. 
Norvin Green, whom I often saw passing to and from his 
comfortable Kentucky home, He was always pleasant and 
kind and was a great favorite in his vicinity. That was 
thirty-six years ago, and I often wonder if the wealth and 
fame that has come to him has changed that kindly noble 
nature or when seated at Delmonico’s before turtle soup, 
brouled shad, canyasbacks, venison, oysters, Cliquot, etc., he 
enjoys it more than the broiled squirrel, the calico perch, the 
home-made ham and turkey of those good old days. 
The next place of my finding my favorite pantish was in 
Grand Lake, Arkansas; here, as the first settlers were from 
“my old home in Kentucky, it was again called the ‘“‘new- 
livht,” and being in a fine large body of water, the fish were 
found of fine size, often taking them weighing from one to two 
and a halt pounds. After the war, hearing of the fine bass 
fishing at St, Mary’s reservoir, about half way between Cin- 
cinnati and Toledo, Ohio, we formed a pleasant party of 
choice spirits (a0 pun intended) in Kentucky, and taking our 
camping outfit we spent a most delightful week upon its 
banks. We found the reports not af all exaggerated, as we 
never failed in taking fine strings weighing from one to four 
pounds, I made two trips to this place; wassuccessful and 
pleased on each; here again I found my. old friend, but 
called rock bass. In 1848 I came to Missouri to live and 
found my oid favorite very plentiful in all the lakes and 
streams, but here called ‘‘croppie.” Several years since a 
party of us camped for a week on the banks of Sugar Lake, 
we averaged about two hundred fish a day, mostly fine crop- 
pie with some fine bass. 
Now you will see from the above that [ have beeu familiar 
with this fish for forty years, I have cooked them in camp, 
have had them cooked at home, and Ido not think I am 
wrong to declare if the best fish in the West and not sufli- 
ciently appreciated. The meat is very white and firm and 
of fine flavor. Take onc, say-trom three-quarters to a pound 
and a half; remove scales, cnt down the back, draw it, 
sprinkle with meal und salt, and fry in hot bacon grease. L 
have given it a fair trial upon the banks of St, Mary’s and 
Sugar Lake, and declare thei preferable to bass taken from 
sane walters. Ido not contend they are better than bass 
taken from cold, running water. In our Western lakes the 
bass have a woody taste, while the croppie does not. I sup- 
pose the reason fishermen think so little of them is because 
they are so easily caught, biting freely at red worms, min- 
now or craw tail and coming to hand without a struggle as 
soon as hooked. 
-Lhope my brothers of the rod will not think me gluttonish 
or accuse me of thinking more of eating than of catching 
Ee rt = 
IN THE WEST. 
my fish, for such is far from the fact. I think the more 
letters we have from each other about our fishing trips in 
the ForresT AND STREAM will bring out many things that 
will be pleasant and profitable for us to know. I propose 
soon to give you an account of some very fine bass fishing 
lately discovered in the bed of an old river within tweaty 
miles of here, where the catch is fine, the place easy of ac- 
cess and the accommodations fine. When Senator Vest 
sees that letter he will never think of going to the Yellow- 
stone for fishing, JAY. 
St, JosEPH, Mo. 
TROUTING ON THE BIGOSH.,. 
AT THE “HOTEL.” 
Ya boyhood days there were both inns and taverns in the 
land, they now exist in the dictionaries alone, and 
another generation will stumble on them there marked ‘‘obs.” 
In that process of evolution which developed the bar into a 
“sample room,” the ale house into a ‘‘beer saloon,” and only 
left the porter house in our yocabulary connected with a 
beef steak, the country tavern blossomed into a hotel with 
no trace of an intermediate stage left for the student to fol- 
low the transformation by. We know the caterpillar and 
behoid the butterfly, but the pupa-case and the cocoon, if they 
existed, are not to be found. Whether we lodge in a great 
cosmopolitan caravansary where ove neyer sees the pro- 
prietor, and the diamonds on the chief clerk dim the electric 
lights, or in a wayside hostel where the landlord makes the 
fires, tends bar, sweeps out, and has three beds for travelers, it 
is a ‘‘hotel” all the same. While the general tendency is to- 
ward the grandilogtent in names, there are those who, perhaps 
wishing to protest against this tendency, go to the other ex- 
treme, or, in a spirit of what they mistake for humor, seek 
to degrade certain words ant phrases, such ag calling an 
angler a “‘rodster,” and when speaking of castinga fly call it 
“chucking a bug.” If these terms were of humorous de- 
rivation in the originator they haye staled by tedious repe- 
tition until they mark the man who tries to be funny without 
originality, 
When we drove up to the ‘Innovation Hotel,” which 
caused all the moralizing in the foregoing paragraph, the 
landlord and his wife were on the porch to meet us. The 
smiling faces they wore were receipts for last year’s bills 
and, better yet, assurances of cordial welcome and of the 
best in the house. I sampled the best while Jack was secing 
to the luggage. 
A good supper, tastefully served by jhe landlady in person, 
banished the memories of the disagreeable persons encouu- 
tered in the cars, and the pipe of a stage driver troubled us 
no more. We read the weekly journals on the tables and 
tried 10 take interest in events no longer fresh, and then ad- 
journed to the front porch, where a trio of residents were re- 
clining in arm chairs tilted back against the house, appar- 
ently enjoying life undisturbed by cares of business, politics, 
or other matters that excite the world outside their village. 
Perhaps they had been discussing our arrival and wondering 
why we eame so far to capture a few trout; but if so, they 
dropped the subject when we came out. A doctor’s gig 
drove by, and a stout, elderly man, with the appearance of a 
country butcher, exclaimed: “Hello, Doc. Simmons ’s got 
anew horse!” 
“Why, don’t you know that mare?” asked a spare, farmer- 
looking young man, “‘that’s the mare Sol. Jenkins used to 
own down on the flats, she used to be mighty fast and ain’t 
slow now.” 
*<7Tain’t nother,” chimed in an old man in trousers of blue 
jean and a hickory shirt, ‘‘the mare you mean had a chest 
founder and died Jast fall. This hoss that Doc. Simmons is 
a drivin’ he traded for with young Jake Peters and gin him 
the old sorrel with the bone spavin and nineteen dollars to 
boot. You know that old sorrel, Si., that Doc. trotted agin 
Bill Jackson’s colt five years ago on the Fourth of July; 
well, that colt was a rattler, and Doc. wouldn’t ha’ beat him 
only he had the inside track and Bill didn’t know how to 
drive. He sold him to some fellow who took him off to 
Baltimore or some place, and they say he beats ’em all now, 
they give him aname as long as your arm, | disremember 
what it is now.” 
“Well, where did Jake Peters get the mare that he just 
traded to the Doctor?” asked the butcher, ‘‘I neyer seed him 
drivin’ no sich hoss.” 
“fe swopped for her with a peddler,” answered the old 
man; “he gin him that old bay hoss with the white nose and 
his off hind foot white, and eleyen bushels of beans and his 
old single harness to boot, The beans was wuth mor'n the 
rest of the lot, hoss and all, [reckon. The old bay was a 
good hoss once when Ike Summers owned him; let’s see, 
that was eight years ago and he must have been about nine 
then, yes, he’s all of seventeen. Ike Summers got the bay in 
a trade with Deacon Higgins, over to Smithtown, and 1 
don’t know where the Deacon did get him. But this mare 
that Doc, Simmons just got of Jake Peters looks like the 
Simpkins mare, only this one ain’t got no white fore foot. I 
tell you that mare of Jo Simpkinses ain't no slouch, and if 
Jo knew how to handle her she would make ’em all take her 
dust. You know Simpkinses mare, don’t you, Si, the one 
he drove oyer here last summer when he was looking at them 
calves?” 
Jack here proposed that we take a walk and we started, 
therefore I do not know to this day whether old “‘Si” knows 
Jo Simpkins’s mare or not. That's always the way with 
Jack. As soon as a man gets telling a story in which 1 am 
absorbed, he wants to go off somewhere and walk, fish, or 
row, and says he is ‘‘tired.” He is a good boy, and I sacri- 
fice my own pleasures in order that he may enjoy life, there- 
fore we went. We walked on in the starlight beyond the 
line of houses that constituted the village and listened to the 
night sounds of bird and insect without speaking. Finally 
Jack said, ‘I suppose you would have stayed and listened 
to that idiotic drivel all) the evening if you hadn’t been 
called off... I was getting too weary to yawn, it was worse 
than twenty-four hours travel,” 
“Jack,” said I, ‘tthe horse is a noble animal, and one of 
the most useful servants we have—” 
‘Infants’ Second Primer, page 10.” said Jack. ‘‘Tell us 
the story of the Arab’s love for his horse some time, not 
now, for I am sick and disgusted with the whole subject. I 
would rather listen to that whippoorwill on the hill yonder. 
That’s the same bird we call a night hawk, when it ‘peeps,’ 
isn’t it?” 
‘No: they are two different birds, but closely allicd. The 
night hawk, or bull-bat, as it is called South, flies more in 
{he open country at evening than the whippoorwill. Both have 
the short bill and wide mouth peculiar to birds which catch 
insects on the wing, but the whippoorwill bas the longest bill 
and it is fringed with elastic bristles, which are very promi- 
nent, and there is no large, white spot on the wings, which 
the night hawk has, Many people believe them to be the 
same bird, but they are different.” 
We turned and walked back toward the hotel, enjoying 
the night air, which some think unwholesome; as though it 
was not the proper air to breathe at night, and talking on 
natural history subjects, of which all boys are fond and 
which has always made me a favorite with boys. I like a 
boy if he is bright and wants to know things, and Jack came 
within the category. We neared the house and he was tell- 
ing how he had seen a pond tortoise dig its hole to lay its 
eggs in, when we heard old ‘‘Si’ say, “‘She was just a-comin’ 
round the quarter pole when she throwed the shoe off her 
n:gh forefoot and—” 
“Come in,” said Jack, ‘‘and let’s go to bed,” and we went, 
FRepD MATHER, 
ECHOES FROM THE TOURNAMENT. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
Your article on the photographs of the contestants in the 
last tournament, with the remarks on the *‘back slashing” of 
the rods, brings to mind a circumstance which I will relate. 
This was the first contest of the kind which I have had the 
pleasure of seeing and as I sat with a friend nearly opposite 
the stand while a famous fly-caster was trying for distance, 
I remarked how far he threw his rod behind him and called 
the attention of my friend to it. Itis rather difficult to tell 
just how far back the top of a rcd does go under such cir- 
cumstances, and we tried the experiment of holding up a 
score book so that it entirely hid the man in order to see the 
rod as it appeared behind the vertical edge of the book. This 
was quite successful and showed that it went far behind an 
angle of forty-five degrees, in fact it often reached nearly to 
a horizontal. 
We were both much surprised at this, for we were famil- 
iar with therule laid down to stop the rod at or near the 
perpendicular on retrieving the line. Of course, when the 
hand stops the rod at that point the weight of the line will 
carry the tip back still further, perhaps to 45 degrees, but 
not so far as in the case mentioned. In ordinary trout fish- 
ing I have followed this rule; but as I never tried to make a 
very long cast beside a measuring line, it is impossible to 
say whether the rule would work as well asin actual fish- 
ing. Ialso noticed that most, if not all, the contestants used 
the shoulder as much as the elbow, while I was taught fo 
keep the elbow near the body, and to bring the hand near 
the lower part of the ear. The contestants raised the hand 
to the top of the head, and in many cases above it, they 
seemed to exert the upper arm more than the wrist. 
No doubt they are right, for they practice what experi- 
ence has shown them will accomplish what they are seeking, 
to cast a fly the furthest distance possible; yet I have heard 
it said that the Jate Reuben Wood could cast as far while 
sitting in a boat and keeping his elbow on his knee as be 
could while standing. If this statement is true then it de- 
stroys the theory, held by some, that a foot or lwo in eleva- 
tion of platform will increase the distance cast, or that a tall 
man has an advantage by reason of his height, which prac- 
tically adds tothe length of hisrod. These are questions on 
which I would like to hear an expression of opinion from 
experts, having none to offer myself, not being familiar with 
fiy-casting for distance, I readily see the value of reaching 
long distances in certain situations, and why one who can 
add ten feet to an ordinary cast may often find it of advan- 
tage. 
Il was particularly impressed with the exact time observed 
by Mr. Hawes, whose hand moved with the regularity of a 
pendulum, forward and backward in the same time, never 
allowing his flies to more than touch the water. He evi- 
dently counted the time each way, for his hand moyed for- 
ward at the instant the flies were «straightened behind him, 
thus avoiding strain on the leader.and the snapping of flies, 
It would be very interesting to know from experienced 
men whether, as you suggest, the rule to stop the rod near 
the perpendicularis a good one, or whether the experts do 
not believe in it. Buack HAcKLE, 
THE MOST KILLING FLIES. 
Hdtior Forest and Stream: 
In the last issue of Fornst AnD STREAM I notice a com- 
munication with this heading, signed ‘‘B. A.G.” In this he 
mentions a fly which he claims was originated in Utica, N. 
Y., and called the B. A. G. From his description, which 
says, ‘‘It has white wings, dark red hackle legs, and a red 
body; in fact, a coachman with a red body, if such a thing 
is possible,” it appears that some one has invented the royal 
coachman oyer again and given it a new and outlandish 
name. The difference between the coachman and the royal 
coachman, taking Hvulberton’s plate as a standard, lies in 
the tip of red on the body. 
There is no law to prevent any person taking any well- 
known fly, like the one named, and by tying on it an infin- 
itessimal thread of a different color, which a trout would 
never see, and christening it anew. Nevertheless it is not 
fair to lumber up our brains with the knowledge of half a 
dozen names for one fly in different parts to please the 
vagaries of flymakers. Perhaps, now that tbe Rod and Reel 
Association have adopted a standard for reel-plates and 
seats, they may turn their attention to the evils of fly nomen- 
clature. I will yenture to assert that, outside of red ibis, 
white miller, coachman, royal coachman, queen of the 
water, professor and Montreal, there are not over three more 
that bear the same name in the different tackle stores, If L 
send to one dealer for a certain fly and give him the name 
that I learned from another tackle man, it is ten to one that 
Ido not get what I want, unless it is one of the names in 
the above list, It seems that every fly-tyer or dealer has a 
fly which he calls by a name which other dealers do not 
recognize. Probably all the flies possible baye been “‘in- 
vented,” if not, they ought to be. We have enough, while 
the names are too many. PoxKe-0’-MooNsHINE. 
fiditor Forest and Stream: 
To-day received my first Forest AND STREAM for six 
weeks, having just returned from a camping trip through 
the wildest and most unfrequented paths of New Mexico, 
where no mail gould reach me; I suppose the back numbers 
are at the Post Office in Crested Butte. You may well 
imagine my pleasure in once more seeing the familiar and 
best of papers, and it was literally devoured from cover to 
cover, ‘‘ads.” and all, The article by “Cyrtonyx” on ‘*The 
Most Killing Fly,” is so true to my experience, both in Colo- 
yado and New Mexico fishing, that [ feel 1 must add my 
humble testimony to his. In an experience of three years 
fishing for that king of fish, the Salmo virginalis, 1 found 
with “Cyrtonyx” thatthe coachman was by far the most kill- 
ing fly. The royal coachman is also good, and a black 
