S70 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Juke 4, 1885. 



lie could 'git some.'" He was a druggist, too, and kept on 

 hand a general assortment of physic and a few of the most 

 "sarchin"' of the patent medicines. He was owner and 

 proprietor of the hotel, drug store, dry goods, hardware, 

 hoot, shoe and notion store, and post office, all in one, and 

 had teams with which to haul us and our "calamities" from 

 Sutton's Bay— where we would leave the steamer— to Prove- 

 mont or to our camping place. He wrote also that he "kept 

 on hand hutter, eggs> hams, and berries while in season, salt 

 pork, flour, potatoes, onions, fish hooks, etc.," and wound 

 up the letter' with the refreshing information that he kept 

 "also maple sugar and liquors." *~ We learned afterward that 

 besides all this he owned two or three good farms along the 

 lake, and after we got acquainted with him old Ben R— — w 

 Said, "with all his prosperity, he's a helrackin' good ole 

 Mler," and in Ben's vocabulary, this word, although a trifle 

 sulphurous, means that anything he honors with it is with 

 him superlative and "jest good enough to be let alone." 



Could we ever expect to find a place that promised more 

 comforts, as Dick Mac would say, "adjacent to camp"? 

 What a place Provcmont would be as a base of supplies for 

 a camping party— solid, fluid and medicinal. If any of the 

 party should get sick or out of gear, I could write a pre- 

 scription and neighbor Couturier could compound it, whether 

 it called for a sedative, laxative, cathartic, astringent or 

 stimulant, or all combined, as the symptoms might indicate; 

 and any or all of these failing, I could fall back on a dose of 

 his fish hooks or "liquors" and be sure of some kind of a re- 

 sult. And then there was the "side meat," a mighty factor 

 in a hungry camp, and the maple sugar to make 'lasses for 

 our flapjacks. We made up our mind that we would camp 

 adjacent to the narrows. 



This year we were moved to make a new departure by 

 the importunities of our women folks to go a-flshing with us, 

 and camp out and have heaps o' fun and rough it like the 

 rest of the boys. For three or four years my daughter Kit 

 had "been a pesterin' of me" to take her along on the annual 

 fish to Michigan, and I had been annually promising to do 

 so; but somehow something always turned up so she did not 

 get to go, and it was of course annually my fault. This 

 time she argued that, as she was drifting into her twenty- 

 first year, it was high time she was learning some of the 

 mysteries of the gentle art if she was to be considered a chip 

 of the old block, and it was my paternal duty to take her 

 along and teach her to get the hang of the rudiments at 

 least. I was clearly cornered, and the only way to even 

 matters up for old promises broken was to find out how 

 many of the persuasive sex belonging to the "family" bad 

 the fever seriously and take them all along. Fortunately 

 (for me) Jim, ye Editor, got married early in the spring, and 

 of course the "new member from Butler county," Mrs. Jim, 

 wanted lo go wherever Jim went, and her sister Fanny, 

 being a little ailing and having much faitb in the hracing-up 

 qualities of Michigan air, concluded that she would never be 

 of any more account unless she could go along. 



Miss Annie Muller, a sister of the Assistant Postmaster, 

 was in sucli rosy, rugged health that it was a burden to her, 

 and she thought it would be a fine scheme to go along 

 and camp out in the woods and get sick a little just for a 

 change. 



Brother M. got into more trouble by letting his danghter 

 Cora, a bright, womanly little lass of eleven years, overhear 

 the plans, aud he got. no rest till she too was booked for the 

 trip. Then one of old Ben R.'s nieces took it into her wise 

 head that she too wanted to go a-flshiug "bad" to sec, Ben 

 wrote, "if she couldn't catch him in some of his fish lies," 

 (Ben says fish lies don't count). So we had a fair sprinkling 

 of the lair sex in the party, and it is but fair to say they were 

 the better half, six of them to five of us of sterner stuff — 

 Uncle Dan Sloan, Old Ben R., Jim, brer Muller and the 

 writer. Uncle Dan was voted the blackjsheep of the flock 

 because he brought none of his women folks with him, they 

 pleading home duties and cares as an excuse for not wishing 

 to cultivate a taste for the distracting melody of the multitu- 

 dinous Michigan muskeeter, but our girls, knowing the great 

 store we set by Dan, and having heard so much talk about 

 him by us, had each fixed up a warm corner of their hearts for 

 the old pelican beforehand, and I am sure every one of them 

 look genuine pleasure in making him feel that their regard 

 for his comfort was earnest and sincere. (I may explain 

 here, as in a former letter, that Uncle Dan has little use of 

 his right band and arm from paralysis — a "Kingfisher" with 

 a broken wing.) 



"Old Knots," that blessed old bachelor, wanted to go with 

 us the worst way, but he was a little skittish about the girls. 

 The ways of girls were to him past finding out; bangs, back 

 hair, bustles and the like were frivolities and mysterious 

 abominations, and he was afraid to trust himself in the 

 "bresh" with them. 



The spirit in him was strong (to go), but it evaporated as 

 the season advanced and left him high and "dry" on the 

 resolve to stay at home. 



This was in the nature of a calamity, for we have come 

 to believe that a camp of the Kingfishers without Old Knots 

 is just about no camp at all, but he oiled the troubled waters 

 at the last minute by promising to come up and look in on 

 us for a week or more if we would put aside a couple of 

 good reliable straws or a few balsam feathers for him to 

 sleep on in case the ground did not just fit his frame. The 

 two straws were carefully selected and put away in a dry 

 place. 



The time set for starting was July 30, and ten days before 

 that our calamities were shipped to Sutton's Bay and Cou- 

 turier notified to get them over to Provemont and hold them 

 till called for by the cook and camp keeper, a young man 

 (son of Mr. Mossman, who was in charge of the New Mission 

 farm) hired on recommendation of brother Foulds and Mr. 

 F. M. Guthrie, of the G. R. & I. E. R , and whom we found 

 to be perfectly trusty, and as good a boy as ever flipped a 

 flapjack. He was instructed by letter to go over three or 

 four days before our arrival, get the boats and outfit and 

 hunt up a good camping place, put up a couple of tents, con- 

 struct a table, procure straw for beds if it could be had, 

 otherwise to strip the feathers from a few balsam saplings, 

 and have the camp fairly ready for us, not forgetting to 

 locate it as "adjacent" to a trout stream as might be conve- 

 nient. 



Could that genial and well beloved old brother, "Ness- 

 muk,"have seen the amount of "duffle" we shipped ahead 

 for that trip, not counting the trunks and gripsacks taken 

 along as personal baggage, he would like as not have been 

 seized with vertigo, or petrified with amazement. It re- 

 quired nineteen boxes of various sizes to pack the five tents, 

 two camp stoves, bedding, groceries, etc., and a broad gauge 



have made a shelter camp for brother "Nessmuk," the Sairy 

 Gamp, and all bis duffle, ditty bag and all. Jim said he 

 would have had the box made a trifle larger, but the car- 

 penter he let the contract to didn't happen to own a lumber 

 yard. In justification of taking so mauy things to the woods — 

 none of them without a use— I have about made up my 

 mind that the more comforts you have in a camp the better 

 you will like it, and the more things you take along to make 

 yourself comfortable with, the more comfort you will have, 

 and this, I take it, is about the best end of a camp for a tired 

 man or woman that goes to the woods to rest. It is all right 

 for brother "Nessmuk" or me to "go light" to the woods, if 

 we go alone, for in that case a light load is a good companion 

 to travel with, especially when no friendly shoulder is near 

 to share our burden over a long, blazing hot carry, and 1 

 have no doubt but a couple of tough old gobblers like brother 

 "Ness" and the writer could make our way through the 

 woods from St. Ignace to Agogebic Lake with a rifle, some 

 ammunition, a hatchet and a little primitive fishing tackle, 

 but how many out of five hundred that go to the woods 

 every year would like to undertake it? 



I have roughed it somewhat in the Rocky Mountains years 

 ago, and can get along in the woods with as few comforts 

 perhaps as the average camper out, but I don't see any sense 

 in doing without conveniences when they can be had with a 

 little extra trouble. I don't believe in squatting on the ground 

 like a tailor to eat your dinner, just for the sake of squat- 

 ting, when a little work would make a bench and a table. I 

 don't believe in sleeping on hard lumpy ground with nothing 

 but a blanket under me when a neighbor's straw or hay 

 stack is accessible, or browse is handy, and I do believe a 

 good camp stove — and there are good camp stoves — discounts 

 in matter of comfort in cooking on it the most artfully con- 

 structed open fire that ever flickered or smoked your eyes out. 

 An axe, hatchet (uot one of those two-edged abominations) and 

 saw.are mighty handy implements to have around a camp, and 

 a jack-knife is an instrument of many possibilities when better 

 tools are not at hand. There are, however, sometimes trips 

 to be made deep into the woods where many things that 

 would be convenient in a permanent camp cannot be taken 

 along, and in this case don't take them, but go with just as 

 as little as you can get along with and don't whine about it. 

 When a camp can be readily reached by wagon or boat I 

 believe in taking along all the conveniences, if not comforts 

 that may be needful to a thorough enjoyment of the trip, 

 and if the women folks are going, it is well enough to bear 

 in mind that they are not quite as tough as "us fellers" and 

 will want little khick knacks and creature comforts that we 

 would never think of or hanker after. A "Nessmuluan" 

 outfit is well enough for an old camper who has meandered 

 in the woods for years and knows the ways of the silent for- 

 ests and how to make the most of their bounties, but with it 

 one inexperienced in the mysteries of woodcraft would come 

 soon to grief. I don't believe in littering up a camp with 

 useless trifles, but I do believe in having needful and handy 

 things to do your work with, and if any credulous tenderfoot 

 thinks he can do it with a "double-geared hatchet," a jack 

 knife and a hip pocket loaded with navy plug, let him try it 

 and be undeceived. 



All this may be taken by the reader as a good word for the 

 girls, and a general defense of and a leaning to camp com- 

 forts, aud not as a cast at brother "Nessmuk,'' for no ous 

 holds him in higher regard nor bows in profounder respect 

 to the glorious old woodsman and his knowledge of wood- 

 craft than [ do, albeit I have a notion that he is a trifle like 

 his ten-pound canoe, "a leetle mite cranky," only and solely, 

 however, in the matter of "lightness of equipment." These 

 few remarks, condensed into a sentence of advice, might 

 read. When you go a-fishing take all the conveniences and 

 comforts you can get there with, and if you can get there 

 with only a few, or none, go a-fishing anyhow. 



The morning of July 80 finally crept around, and Kit and 

 I were off by ourselves, Muller being detained by some office 

 work until two days later; At Hamilton, O., we were joined 

 by Jim and his wife and sister-in-law, and as soon as the 

 girls were introduced and had fairly settled into the inevita- 

 ble "chattering match," Jim and 1 hunted a quiet seat and 

 discussed Carp Lake and swapped fish lies till the agreeable 

 pastime was cut short by a change of cars at Richmond, Ind., 

 to the G. R. and I. R. R. 



At Fort Wayne, where old Dan, Ben, and his niece Miss 

 Cora R — w, were to join us, Jim and I got out, prepared, 

 however, for any kind of joke old Ben might attempt on us — 

 like the one he played on the writer the year before— but 

 Ben had somehow forgotten to concoct any new scheme with 

 which to astonish "old Hickory," and we were at once in the 

 midst of a vigorous hand shake in which I am sure each 

 one's heart reached out further than the finger ends. 



In the smoker the talk drifted back to old camps on stream 

 and lake, bringing up many a pleasant memory that had 

 been sleeping for years; camps on the Wabash, the Tippe- 

 canoe and the Kankakee; Black Lake was again visited in 

 fancy, and the later camp on Cental Lake the same year was 

 told about and Dan was easily cajoled into telling Jim about 

 Old Ben's great fight with a '23-pound maskalonge, his first 

 one while in that camp, and about the many quaint and 

 side-splitting remarks Ben made to that fish while the never- 

 to-be-forgotten struggle was going on ; how Ben swore that 

 "the fish jumped out o' the water twenty-seven foot high 

 seventeen different times, an' the last time he went straight fur 

 the bottom an' I thought he'd never stop till he got plumb 

 through into Chiny," and how when Ben got home and went 

 up the streets of Decatur with the skin of the old warrior 

 hanging over his shoulder, one of his friends saluted him 

 with, "Hello, Ben, where'd ye ketch that gar?" and how Ben 

 withered him with, "That's a muskaluuge, you sweet-scented 

 idiot; any fool kin ketch bass an' pickerel, an' suckers an' 

 gars, but it takes science an' a scientifick fisherman to ketch 

 a muskalunge, an' don't you forgit it." And then to keep 

 his end up, Ben told how "Old Hickory" lost the "helrack- 

 inest big bass in Michigan, up around the pint above John- 

 son's, on one o' them cussed no 'count barbless hooks, made 

 out o' piauer wire, a straightenin' out on him. When that 

 bass" — after a few vigorous whiffs at the briar root — "broke 

 loose an' made a bee line for the bulrushes, the line flew back 

 over our heads an' Hickory thought it had broke; but when 

 he reeled up an' looked at that pianer wire hook with the 

 pint turned an' about the shape of a new moon, he jest 

 wilted down on to the seat o' the boat an' made a few remarks 

 that wouldn't hev oncouraged the feller that made that hook 

 to persevere in their manufacture. I'm always willin' to 

 chip in and help a feller out witen be gits stuck for a good 

 word in a pinch like that was, but on that special occasion 

 my services was not needed. Hickory jest scooped my 

 vocabulary clean an' left me a settin' there a blinkin' through 

 the smoke." And then Jim and Dan and I laughed till we 

 disturbed everybody in the car, while Ben fired his briar- 



root for the ninth or tenth time and smoked in solemn 

 sileuce. 



Carp Lake was again discussed, and I had to tell all over 

 how the calamities were shipped, the cook seemed, boats 

 engaged, how a request had been made to have the "men- 

 agerie box" filled with frogs, etc., and we wondered what 

 kind of a camp young Mossman had selected and what kind 

 of trout fishing we would find, and planned out the general 

 outlines of the lake as we imagined they ought to look from 

 a careful study of the map and what we had been told of its 

 features by brother Foulds. Did you ever go to a new lake 

 or stream, oi' brook without first having fixed in your mind 

 just how it would look or ought to look, and did you ever 

 find it very much resembled the mental picture you had 

 made of it? The general outlines may have been correctly 

 traced, but when you come to face ine reality there is usii 

 ally something lacking. The little bay nestling behind the 

 headland, the noisy stream tumbling' into the lake there 

 where the water is carpeted with broad lily leaves, the bold 

 ledsre of rocks overhauging the stream just below the' 

 riffle where the deep water promises good work for your 

 rod, and the deep pool at the sharp angle of the brook w'here 

 the "big trout" lurks under a labyrinth of gnarled roots ini 

 serene_ security — all these that you have spent days in paint- 

 ing with colors of green and russet and autumn brown, have 1 

 flilted away into the shadows of your picture to be seen no> 

 more. The real picture of ten exceeds in rugged beauty or 

 quiet loveliness the sketch penciled in the mind, but 'tis a 

 pleasant pastime to the lover of the woods to weave these 

 fancies into unreal pictures and set them in unreal frames of 

 evergreen forests and gray rocks, and soft, mossy banks. It 

 is a part, and a most pleasant part of the contemplative - 

 man's recreation. 



The talk took a turn to wind up by old Dan knocking the 

 ashes from his pipe by tapping it on the open window sill, 

 and remarking in his quiet way, "Well, Hickory, here have 

 we two old pelicans been fishing and camping together for 

 twenty odd years in all weathers, and the love of it has not 

 died out in us yet. It seems to me the trip that is coming is 

 always to be the best, and we talk it over with more eager- 

 ness and expect more days of pure delight to fall to us than, 

 on any other one in the past. Truly, the heart of the angler 

 never grows old, and a love of the woods is a prolonger of." 

 life and makes us all boys again." 



"Correct, Danny, chimed old Ben, "goin' a-fishin' makes 

 a feller feel young again; bedurned ef 1 don't feel friskier 'n 

 a yaller pup* this afternoon, an' ef I was a equine quadruped 

 of the boss kind I'd jest give my heels a flirt an' squeal mi' 

 whinner like a yearlin' colt." 



"Hooray for Carp Lake an' goin' a-fishin'; but let's go 1 

 back an' see what the gals 's doin; 'xpect their jaws have all 

 run down an' they 're jest a settin' there makin' signs an' 

 motions." 



Bob and Kit had never been over the road before and they 

 were delighted with everything they saw, an especial ex- 

 hibition of eostacy breaking out tvhen they got a sight of 

 the lake at Rome City, Ind. 



Jim's wife and her sister had spent a part of several seasons 

 with friends in Northern Michigan, and could afford to put 

 on the airs of old travelers, and it was amusing to note how 

 wise and motherly Mrs. Jim looked when pointing out some 

 fresh attraction along the road to the two younger girls, 

 whose interest in the changing landscape never nagged till 

 darkness shut out the view. 



At Grand Rapids we were to see "old Bill Hess" and little 

 Charley Pike, who had written that they would be at the 

 depot on our arrival to have an old time shake and swap a 

 few fish lies during the hour or more our train would wait 

 for a connection. To pass through Grand Rapids without 

 seeing old Bill would seem like something was out of gear 

 with the trip, and it was a genuine pleasure to find him wait- 

 ing for us, with his broad face beaming all over with smiles 

 and featy with a hearty greeting for the Kingfishers. The 

 pleasure of the meeting was, however, marred by the absence 

 of little Pike, who was confined at borne by sickness, but we 

 sent our sympathies by old Bill, which, we trust, proved a 

 help to his speedy recovery. 



Great big-hearted, fun-loving old Bill Hess and quiet little 

 Charley Pike! I can never grow tired of writing something 

 good of you, and may the friendships formed at the mouth 

 of Sweeney's Creek with the "Kingfishers" be more firmly 

 cemented each year till we are called to make our final camp" 

 in the happy hunting grounds. 



We left him, with a promise given that he and brother 

 Lockwood, general passenger agent of the road (Lockvvood 

 is an ardent angler, hence the "brother") would look in on 

 us at camp some time during our stay in the woods if they 

 could manage to slip off for a few days, and he went off into 

 the darkness with the good wishes of our entire party to> 

 lighten his old heart. 



After we had transferred at Walton Junction about day 

 light in the morning, I went back to the sleeper to get Bob 

 and Kit out to see the new country and get a smell of the 

 pines and the hemlocks and the balsams. Kingfisher., 

 [to be continued.] 



WEST VIRGINIA BASS FISHING. 



SHOULD any of your readers desire a charming spot to 

 pass away a vacation this summer, I would advise them 

 to go up in West Virginia to a place called Hanging Rock, 

 between Green Spring Run and Romney, on a branch of the 

 Baltimore & Ohio Railroad. This place is on the south 

 branch of the Potomac River, about fourteen miles from 

 Cumberland and three from Romney. 



A few summers ago 1 went there and was amply repaid, 

 for the stream teemed with fish and gave me all the sport I 

 wanted. A more convenient place for a fisherman could 

 hardly be found. The stage landed me in front of the farm 

 house where I had engaged to board, and I had only to pick 

 out my baggage and go into the house, where I was given as 

 uice quarters as any one could wish. The house was quite a 

 large brick one, with large rooms and a delightful shady 

 lawn in front, making it cool all day long. At the end of 

 the lawn was the Potomac River, where, in a boat owned by 

 the proprietor of the house for the convenience of his guests, 

 you could roam up and down the river and get as good bass 

 fishing as any one could wish. The bass range here up to 

 three and four pounds, and can be caught with bait or fly. 

 At times the fish would jump up all around me and I could 

 not catch one, and again I would be quite successful. I 

 fished with bait altogether, as I am not an experl with, the 

 fly, but should think this would be the place for fly-fisher- 

 men, as the bass are jumping out of the water all the time,. 

 and the wading is so good that you can go out to the middle 

 of the river and have a splendid swing for your line without 

 getting it entangled with branches or snags, etc. The stream.^ 



