168 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



(.March 26, 1885 



Morning again, and we are off for another day ; with the 

 wind blowing enough for just the right ripple to delight the 

 heart of an angler. We start across the pond and when we 

 get where the water is about seven or eight feet deep, two 

 trout rise, and a sharp turn of the wrist they are securely 

 hooked on the two last flies. They make a dash for the 

 deeper water and as I turn them toward the boat, and the 

 first fly comes to the surface, it is seized by a large fish and 

 a hard strike, made involuntarily, securely hooks him also. 



"Jerusalem! youhave got three of them, haven't you?" said 

 Charley, as he swung the boat around and I stood up, the 

 better to see what was going on. 



"Yes, there are three on now, but I can never save them, 

 and 1 am afraid they will smash the tackle sure, but keep 

 the boat away from them," said 1, as they made a sudden 

 rush under the boat, and the little rod bent double under the 

 strain. The boat backed away from them and I gave them 

 more lino. 



' 'Keep cool and you will save them yet, " said Charley, 

 "you are getting nervous." 



"Yes, but who wouldn't be nervous to get into a scrape 

 like this?" 



"Got a whale," says John, as he coolly hauled in a half- 

 pounder with his bait-rod, "why don't you take him in as I 

 do?" and he quietly put on another angle worm. 



"I wish I could, but we have got more than we know 

 what to do with," I replied. Just then one of them made a 

 lunge out of the water, like a bass, and suddenly went for 

 the bottom. "There's one the less to look ont for now, any- 

 way," said J. 



"Yes, that one is a goner, I guess," said Charley, "but 

 don't lose the others if you can possibly help it." 



After that they became more quiet, and 1 began to reel in 

 slowly. Charley dropped the paddle, threw over the. anchor, 

 and 1 slowly swung them toward the net, and the one we 

 hooked last turned up on his side and Charley quickly 

 slipped the net under him and drew him toward the boat. 

 The other seemed as lively as ever, and just as he released 

 the fly gave a sudden dart under the boat, and fastened the 

 loose fly in the meshes of the landing net. 



"Unhook it quick or I shall lose the other one, for he is 

 pulling like a Trojan," said 1, and it seemed as though he 

 would never get that hook loose. "I can't unhook it, he 

 yanks 'round so. I wish you would hold him in a little 

 harder till I can get the fly out of the net, and I can't get this 

 trout into the boat with this hook fastened in the net. I 

 wish the other one would get off or keep quieter," and my 

 rod seemed to have all it could stand, and I couldn't draw 

 the other fish from under the boat, and every little while he 

 would nrnke a dash and it seemed as though the rod must 

 go. "Break the hook, turn the net, do something or we 

 shall lose them all, and be quick about it," but it seemed a 

 full minute more before the hook was liberated. At last it 

 was unfastened and he took in the anchor, backed the boat 

 away, and I reeled off more line and eased up on the rod. 



"Do you know how may fish you have on your flies now?" 

 asked Charley, as a steady rise on the rod brought the flies 

 near the surface and gavehim a view of the fish. 



"I had one," said 1, as he made another dash under the 

 boat and one of the flies caught on the side, "but now I don't 

 know as I have any." I reached out and unfastened the 

 hook, and he backed the boat away, and said, "There were 

 two when they came up the last time, for I saw them!" After 

 playing them a while longer, I saw that they were both on 

 still, and one of them was hooked in the side , and that was 

 the reason he was able to fight so much longer thau any I 

 had ever caught before. Finally I reeled them up so that 

 he netted them both and took them into the boat at the same 

 time. 



"Hurrah!" shouted Charley, swinging his hat, but "what 

 is the matter with you," as I sat dow in the end of the boat 

 and began to reel in my line. 



"Nothing, only I am as weak as a baby." 



We marked those three trout, and when we got back to 

 L., the smallest one weighed three-quarters of a pound and 

 the largest one and a quarter pounds. We thought it a big 

 thing, and it was many years before I again saved three 

 trout as large as those at one time. We continued our sport 

 until the spring looked as though we had all the trout we 

 wanted to take home, and we concluded it would be wicked 

 to take any more, so we wound up our tackle and began to 

 make preparations to leave the woods the next day. We cut 

 a few extra sticks of wood, so that we could have a big fire 

 for the last evening in camp, and after supper we built our 

 fire a lictle further from camp, so as not to get roasted out, 

 and we lay back on the soft boughs and watched the sparks 

 in the darkness, and told stories and wondered how it could 

 be possible that our week could be so nearly gone, and why 

 time passed so much faster in camp than anywhere else. 



Borne of the pleasantest hours of an outing that we remem- 

 ber in after years are the evenings spent in camp before a 

 blazing log fire, without which no camp can fill the wants 

 of an old camper. A rabbit hopped along and sat down 

 behind our fire and looked around fearlessly, as though camp- 

 fires were an every-evening affair to him. After John had 

 fired all the cartridges of his seven-shooter at him, and the 

 rabbit had quietly hopped back into the darkness, John said, 

 "Well, we couldn't stay in here all summer to eat him, and 

 piobably he was tougher than tripe anyway." By and by 

 the owls came around the fire and gave a concert such as 

 you never hear anywhere else but in the woods, and we 

 listened to them half asleep and half awake, till finally we 

 fell asleep and knew not when the concert ended. 



We were astir early, for we had considerable to do to get 

 ready tor an early start for "Uncle Tom Wentworth's." 

 After breakfast we packed our dishes, put out the fire, and 

 went down to the spring with the landing net to get our 

 trout. We dipped them out, killed and dressed them, 

 packed them in our boxes with a sprinkling of granulated 

 sugar, securely fastened our boat, and are ready for the five- 

 mile walk. Two hours' travel took us to our team, and after 

 getting a bowl of bread and milk, that seemed to have a very 

 satisfaciory effect on our stomachs after our woods cuisine, 

 we got started about noon for our thirty-five mile drive to 

 Lancaster, where we arrived safely before dark. We shall 

 always remember the trip, as including some of the many 

 "red-letter days" that we have passed trout fishing in the 

 upper Coos region. 



Perhaps sometime I will tell you of some other excursions 

 to the same pond with parties whose names have been 

 ''household words" with Forest and Stream in former 

 years, and if they happen to see this sketch of my first fly- 

 fishing, will remember other excursions, where a different 

 fly-rod bore off the honors of the day. Now, an eight-ounce 

 split bamboo takes the place of the three-dollar one, But 

 there was a great deal to be learned before we thought it 

 policy to put twenty-five dollars |n a rod- I thought the 



other day, when a friend invested seven dollars and fifty 

 cents in a split bamboo, that probably before two years he 

 would bo looking for one made by the best makers. Scarcely 

 any of us bought a very expensive rod at first, but as the 

 years go by and we learn more of the "gentle art," we find 

 that the finest tackle pleases us the best. S. J. G. 



BASS FISHING IN LAKE CHAMPLAIN. 



LIFE in a secluded valley among the Adirondacks is very 

 pleasant, especially in November, when the mountains 

 flame with orimson and gold, for at this season they seem to 

 express a wonderful life and sentiment. The sunshine and 

 drifting cloud-shadows throw over them a magic spell. One 

 moment they will smile at you, another frown darkly, then 

 perhaps follows a look of settled repose and sadness. I live 

 in such a valley, where the companionship of the grand old 

 mountains and pleasant friends make life very quiet and 

 sweet. 



This is all very fine, but it is human nature to wish for a 

 change: something seems to be lacking. Suddenly I say to 

 myself, "Ben, why don't you go fishing?" I will, of course 

 I will, and won't I have a good time out on the broad lake 

 in my little Adirondack boat, fighting the big waves, and 

 laughing at the wind and flying spray, and isn't it fun to 

 fight the gamy bass and wall-eyed pike with an eight-ounce 

 rod? On the spur of the moment I rush out, catch up my 

 minnow pail and net, and start for the Boquet River on the 

 run. The Boquet is a dream of a river. Clear as a crystal, 

 its long shallow "reaches" murmuring over beds of clean 

 bright sand and pebbles, its bottom a ' 'moving mosaic" of 

 golden lights and shadows, beautiful as the iridescent sides 

 of the trout that inhabit its depihs. Its banks are covered 

 with wild flowers, and from this it was named Boquet by 

 the old French explorer Champlain, who first discovered it 

 and camped upon its banks. 



1 drop my little net on the sandy bottom. Soon a school 

 of minnows draw near and curiously examine the strange 

 thing that has fallen into their quiet pool, but suddenly it 

 rises and takes a crowd of them into the upper air, from 

 which the little beauties are transferred to the bait pail. 

 This is repeated again and again until enough are secured. 

 Dear reader, let me advise you to catch your own bait when 

 you go fishing, for it is part of the fun. I haven't told of 

 the big trout that made a dash to hide and got entangled in 

 my net, how near 1 came to getting him and how he escaped, 

 and of the big turtle that came rushing along, scaring away 

 the minnows, much to my disgust, nor how the bank caved 

 and let me into the water. This was part of the fun, of 

 course it was. 



Returning to the house I harness Jerry, throw into the 

 buggy a "camp kit," and with rod and bait start for West- 

 port, on Lake Champlain. Arriving there after a pleasant 

 drive of twelve miles, I leave Jerry in care of my pleasant 

 friend Clark, of the Richards House, and walk down to the 

 lake shore. I find the wind rapidly rising, and a rather 

 heavy sea running. It is now nearly 4 P. M., and I must 

 cross* the lake to my favorite reef at Button Bay, where I in- 

 tend to camp for the night. 



Pushing off my little "Adirondack" I jump in, seize the 

 oars, and with long, steady strokes soon pass out of the bay 

 into the broad lake. Casting my eye to the north they meet 

 a fearful sight. Is it a stampede of great black horses toss 

 ing their white manes in the air? a low, dark cloud hover- 

 ing over them like a pall, and the whole vision sweeping 

 down with resistless power. This means business, and hur- 

 riedly stripping off my coat, I set my teeth and spring to the 

 oars. Can I get under the shelter of the Vermont shore 

 before the weight of the squall strikes me? This is the 

 question now. My little boat rushes up the long waves, 

 throws one-third of its length out of water, and comes down 

 on the other side with a crash, staggers and rushes forward 

 again like a frightened deer. I cannot keep my eyes from 

 the black terror coming dow T n from the north, and unguard- 

 edly striking a breaking wave I get drenched with water. 

 But no matter, the boat must not slacken its speed, and on 

 and on we struggle with dogged resolution. The squall is 

 on us, but suddenly the waves grow milder and I turn my 

 head. O, joy! it is the influence of the Vermont shore. 



Passing around the poiut into Button Bay the boat gently 

 slides up the inclined beach with its skipper badly blown. 

 After a few minutes' rest, I hastily turn the water out of my 

 boat and cross over to the reef to get a bass for supper and 

 secure a good one. It is now nearly dark with a cold wind 

 blowing. At the head of the bay, under a high bank covered 

 with evergreens, I find a nook completely sheltered from the 

 winds, and turning the boat on its side, with a buffalo robe 

 spread under, and plenty of driftwood for my fire, I think I 

 am comfortable for the night. The bass with plenty of hot 

 coffee and toast give me a splendid supper. 



Stretched at length under the boat, listening to the waves 

 on the other side of the point and the music of the wind in 

 the pine trees and enjoying the warmth of the fire, I go to 

 sleep. About midnight I awake with a chill to find that the 

 wind has changed and is sweeping on me in a pitiless man- 

 ner, so I spend the rest of the night watching for light in the 

 east and comforting myself with a good fire and plenty of 

 hot coffeee. 



I do not wonder the little birds sing when they see the 

 morning breaking iu the east, if they felt as I did when I 

 discovered the light slowly rising from behind the Green 

 Mountains. The whole eastern sky was soon in a blaze of 

 gold, crimson and purple, a sight fit for the gods. The wind 

 had gone down to a gentle breeze, giving promise of a good 

 morning's fishing. So making a hasty toilet by the lake 

 shore, and eating a lunch, I started for the fishing ground. 

 I tried different parts of the reef, but without success. What 

 did it mean? I had plenty of live minnows and fine tackle. 

 It was the last part of November, and I began to think it 

 was too late in the season. It was a splendid morning, and 

 the w r ater was covered with a light ripple; but I had noticed 

 two small spots of smooth water out in the lake, one perhaps 

 ten yards across and the other larger. They had excited my 

 curiosity, for I could see no particular reason for it, so 1 

 rowed out there and cast anchor. 



I threw over a live minnow, which had hardly reached the 

 bottom before it was taken, and 1 found I had a heavy, 

 "logy" fish on rny line which made some hard runs but soon 

 came to the surface. I led it up to the boat. "Great Scott! 

 what a fat bass." Slipping the net under it I took it in out 

 of the wet, and as it lay in the bottom of the boat I gazed at 

 it with astonishment, and can only compare it to the "prize 

 porker" at a county fair. It was a small-mouth, and would 

 weigh about four pounds, and I christened it Daniel Lam- 

 bert. I threw over another minnow, which was immediately 

 taken by a heavy fish, but alas! was too lightly hooked. 

 "Good by, old fellow, may you live to fight another day." 



Another minnow— hurrah! a mate to Daniel! 1 took in six 

 or eight fine ones before they stopped biting, then paddled 

 over to the other calm spot and threw out a minnow. An 

 immediate response — another fat bass. And so it went until 

 I had fourteen magnificent fish, not counting five or six I 

 lost because they took hold in such a dainty manner. 1 

 found the bass in about twenty feet of water on a smooth 

 bottom not far from a sunken reef. There must have been 

 quite a school of them getting ready to hibernate, and they 

 had certainly laid in a big store of fat for their winter's sleep. 



It was the first time I ever thought schools of fish made 

 such calm spots on the water, but it seems others have 

 noticed it. I here quote an English writer, Phillip Gilbert 

 Hamilton, in his book called, "Painter's Camp in the High- 

 lands," writing of Highland landscapes: 



"Loch Awe after Sunset. — In the middle of these thous- 

 and acres of breeze there is one spot, perhaps in reality, 

 about a hundred of yards across which the breeze has not 

 touched at all. It is a little isle of enchanted calm in a rip- 

 pling sea. I have often gone iu my boat to examine these 

 isolated calms. I have found them no bigger than the floor 

 of a good-sized dining-room. I have crossed lines of calm 

 as narrow as the lobbies in the House of Commons, and 

 apparently as well protected from the wind. The fishermen 

 on Loch Fyne who have observed this phenomenon, account 

 for it by the theory that it is produced by oil rising from 

 fish. It is certain' that the thinnest films of oil will prevent 

 the wind from rubbing water into a ripple." 



I think the theory of the fishermen of Loch Fyne is cor- 

 rect, at least in regard to the isolated calms I fished in, as 

 they were in the same place for over an hour. I'd like to 

 know if any other fisherman has noticed them. 



I had a pleasant row back to Westport, and with pardon- 

 able pride showed my magnificent string of bass to my 

 friends in the valley. The combined weight of the fourteen 

 was nearly forty pounds. B. Bishop. 



New Russia, Essex County, N. Y. 



ARKANSAS FISH LAW. 



SECTION 1. No person shall be allowed to place, erect, 

 or cause to be placed or erected or maintained in any 

 of the waters of this State, or in front of the mouth of any 

 stream, slough or bayou, any seine, net, gill-net, trammel- 

 net, set-net, bag weir, bush drag, or any fish trap or dam, 

 or any other obstruction or device or devices or by any such 

 means to take or catch any fish in any of the waters of this 

 State; provided, that the prohibitions of this act shall not. 

 apply to waters wholly on the premises belonging to the per- 

 son or persons using such device or devices; and, provided 

 further, that it may be lawful to use a very small seine, not 

 to exceed in length fifteen feet, for capturing very small fish, 

 usually called minnows, which may be caught to be used as 

 bait or for stocking other waters with fish, but for no other 

 purpose; and, provided further, that it shall not be unlawful 

 for any person or persons to use a seine, not exceeding sixty 

 feet in length, in any of the unnavigable streams or lakes in 

 this State to catch fish for family use or for picnics, and not 

 for sale; nor shall it be unlawful for any person or persons 

 to place traps in the unnavigable streams of this State, pro 

 vided such traps do not obstruct the free passage of fish in 

 ascending or descending such streams; nor shall it be unlaw- 

 ful to use a net, seine, or gill-net in any of the navisrable 

 streams, provided the meshes of such seine, net, or gill-net, 

 be not less than three inches in size, and that such seine, net, 

 or gill net does not obstruct the outlet or inlet of any lake or 

 stream emptying into any other lake or stream. Any person 

 violating any of the provisions of this act shall, upon con- 

 viction, be deemed guilty of a misdemeanor and shall be 

 fined in any sum not less than five nor more than two hun- 

 dred dollars. 



Sec. 2. The term waters in this State, whenever used in 

 this act, shall be deemed and held to mean all streams, lakes, 

 ponds, sloughs or bayous, or other waters wholly or in part in 

 this State. 



Sec. 3. All laws and parts of laws in conflict with this 

 act are hereby repealed, and this act shall take effect and be 

 in force within one hundred and twenty days after its 

 passage. ____^ 



How to Fasten Flies.— Edi tor Forest and Stream: I have 

 my way, and everybody else has his way of attaching flies to 

 the leader. Of course we all have not the best way. So far 

 as I know there is only one way of attaching the tail fly, but 

 there are more modes "of putting on the droppers. Will some 

 of your correspondents tell us "how they do it?" I believe 

 that the long snell which was universal some years ago has 

 gone out of use, though some flies that were sent to me from 

 England, not very long since, had the old-fashioned long 

 snell. I think that information about putting on the flies 

 that are tied with a loop instead of a snell would be 

 welcomed by a good many anglers to whom this mode of 

 tying is new. I know that they have occasioned not a little 

 trouble to some who had never seen them used before, and 

 whose inventive genius was not well developed. — M. 



Trotjt op Bear River.— In article by Mr. A. N. Cheney, 

 on this subject in issue of Feb. 26, for "characteristic red 

 blotch on the lower fin," read "characteristic red blotch on 

 the lower jaw." 



Fly- Rods and Fly-Tackle. By Henry P. Wells. This 

 bo»k, long announced, is now ready, just in time for the 

 opening of the season. It is a practical book, as may be in- 

 ferred from its authorship. Sent post-paid on receipt of $2.50 



Escakaba, Mich., March 19.— Three feet of snow in the 

 woods, ice two and a half feet thick, trout will not bite here 

 yet awhile; — 15". 



Wallace's Guide to the Adirondack^ will be issued 

 in new and enlarged form for next season. It is said to be 

 very complete. ^ . 



^islfcnlture. 



TROUT CULTURE AT THE SOUTH SIDE CLUB. 



SEVERAL gentlemen inspected the hatcheries and ponds of 

 the South Side Sportsmen's Club of Long Island, by invi- 

 tation, on Saturday last. Among them were State Fish Com- 

 missioners R. B. Roosevelt and E. G, Blackford. The club 

 began trout culture in 1870, and has been very successful, some 

 six thousand fish having been taken from its waters last year 

 with the fly, while something like a thousand pounds were 

 netted and sold to cover expenses. The rainbow trout has 

 grown, well here, but it is closely confined or it would, as in 

 other waters, have gone to sea and disappeared. At present 

 the club has over five hundred of these fish, which we claim 



