812 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Jttly 22, 1886. 



The Marquis had built himself a substantial house on the 

 point only a few rods from the well, where he lived in good 

 style, much beloved and respected by his neighbors for his 

 goodness to- the poor and his kindly and benevolent disposi- 

 tion. Bui the venture had cost him his snug little fortune. 

 Reverses came and he was forced to sell out his possessions 

 for a song. After lingering for a time around the place that 

 had made him penniless, vainly trying to stem the tide of ill 

 fortune that had set against him, he moved to Chicago and 

 went to work at any kind of labor he could get for means to 

 support his family. After a time he drifted into a gilt-edged 

 gin mill as a bartender (I tell the story as it was told me), 

 and one day there came into the place two or three of his 

 former friends from sunny France. They recoguized him 

 at once, him, a French Marquis, mixing the seductive cock- 

 tail behind an American bar. Their cold surprise seemed to 

 cut deep into his sensitive nature, and feeling keenly the dis- 

 grace of his position, with a sudden impulse he placed a 

 pistol to his head, and before any one could interfere, sent 

 a bullet through it and fell dead by his own hand. It after- 

 ward appeared that his people in France were very wealthy, 

 but having learned that he had married an American wife 

 had stopped his remittances. By the laws of France his 

 widow could not lay claim to a franc of his share of the 

 estates, nor could his eldest son inherit his title. After his 

 death his family, left to the cold charities of the world, 

 drifted iuto obscurity, and for some years their old neighbors 

 and friends at Proveinont and along' Carp Lake have entirely 

 lost sight of them. 



Such in substance was the story of the oil well, and the 

 interest aroused in us by the tale determined us so pay ft 

 a visit on our way back to camp. 



At the point as we went back we pulled the boat up on the 

 sand and walked up to the sloping bank to the level above, 

 some ten or twelve feet above the lake, but nothing was to 

 be seen of the well. In front of us and a few rods from the 

 water were the crumbling remains of an old cellar wall, the 

 only reminder of the house the Marquis built, the house 

 itself and the outbuildings having long since been destroyed 

 by fire. From here back to the heavily wooded hills, an 

 eighth of a mile perhaps, the view was unobstructed by tree 

 or shrub or bush. On the left and along the curving shore 

 of the little bay was a scattering growth of stunted cedars 

 and bushes and up to the right a heavier growth of woods 

 extending back to the hills, altogether a picture that was 

 very pleasing to the eye. 



A walk of less than a hundred yards toward the woods to 

 the right as we had been directed, brought us to the well, 

 the wonderful bore we had heard so much about. There it 

 was in a little sag in the surrounding grouud, a clear white 

 column of water not more than three feet high spouting up 

 apparently out of the earth, as the pipe had been broken off 

 a short distance below the surface and was not to be seen 

 unless by a close look. Since the first grand squirt of forty 

 feet the pressure had grown weaker till the water had gone 

 down to the height we found, but for several years past it 

 has maintained this even pressure with no sign of going 

 lower or giving out. Our philosopher said some one told 

 him there was a stone wedged fast in the pipe somewhere, 

 obstructing the tlow of the water, but the appearance of the 

 column does not bear out this supposition. ■ The water falls 

 back into a pool a foot or more in depth around the pipe, 

 from whence it finds its way into the lake a few rods away 

 in whimpering thankfulness, I had a notion, as though 

 glad to escape from the black caverns of the earth below into 

 the light of the pleasant sunshine, and lingering a moment 

 in the pool to get accustomed to the brightness, then it goes 

 laughing down the slope to mingle with the warmer waters 

 of the smiling lake. 



Muller was curious to see how far he could poke an old 

 handspike down the pipe and in tramping around over some 

 loose wet planks that partly covered the pool he slipped off 

 and went into the water over his boot tops. Like most other 

 water it had a tendency to fill up all the space in the boots 

 not taken up by his legs, and it is extremely doubtful if he 

 ever in his life displayed so much energy and agility in a 

 given length of time as he did in getting out of that pool and 

 on solid dry ground where he could tilt up his feet and let 

 the frigid fluid run out. Muller is willing to make a consci- 

 entious statement too that the temperature of the water in 

 the pool is only a trifle above 32°. The water is as clear as 

 crystal and as cold as the famous spring at the foot of Six 

 Mile Lake of the Intermediate chain and would, I am con- 

 vinced, if anaylized show that it is possessed of some 

 valuable medical properties. The stones and gravel over 

 which the little stream flows on its way to the lake, and the 

 boards and planks lying around the spouting column are 

 covered with a blackish yellow deposit which would indicate 

 the presence of iron and sulphur, although the water has no 

 perceptible odor. However, on drinking it a noticeable 

 taste of sulphate of magnesia (in plain camp language, epsom 

 salt) is left on the palate, but the water is so cold and pure 

 that it is not unpleasant. We drank of it, and took our way 

 back to the boat feeling as cool as a couple of walking icicles, 

 but the hot sun soon thawed us out and before we had gone a 

 mile on our way to camp we felt as lazy and shiftless as a 

 pair of summer tramps. But we had seen the wonder of the 

 Leelanau peninsula and were satisfied. 



Last year in July Col. Whitfield, Cincinnati's postmaster, 

 and Mr. J. C. Morrison, with their wives, spent a couple of 

 weeks with neighbor Couturier, and the Colonel came back 

 "jest a bilin' with enthusiasm" over the fine bass fishing he 

 had in Carp Lake. He took from twenty-five to sixty 

 pounds of bass a day, not counting the longsnouts nor tak- 

 ing into account some scores of goggleeyes and bluegills 

 that he yanked out between times to keep his wrist in play. 

 Nor did they allow a good while to elapse between drinks 

 at the "oil well, '' and they were so well pleased with the 

 water and the locality and the fishing in the lake, that Mr. 

 Morrison bought fifty acres of the point, taking^ in the well, 

 and is this summer going to build a house near it where they 

 can spend their yearly vacation from business with their 

 families, drink the water and fish in the lake to their heart's 

 content, but as he is the Colonel's father-in law, it may be 

 said to be "oil in the family." All's "well" that ends "well." 



At camp we found that preparations had mildly set in for 

 a start for home, as the next day but one was fixed on for 

 the final breaking up. This is the only part of a vacation 

 that bears hard on a lover of the woods; we can stand the 

 ills of camp, which are never many; the broiling sun, the 

 cold and rain, the few mosquitoes, or millions of 'em for 

 that matter, and preserve an even balance; but when the 

 fateful day comes at last, we stand around at first in a dazed 

 sort of way, wondering where to begin and wishing we 

 didn't have to begin at all. 



We want to stay another day ot two, another week, 

 another month; but there's the inexorable last day staring 



us in the face and there is no dodging it. We make up our 

 minds right there that life is too short, that work is a burden 

 and a calamity to be deplored, and go to packing up odds 

 and ends that come first to hand, which are sure to get into 

 the wrong place, and then we stop and rest awhile and study 

 it all over, and wonder wheTe the next camp-fire will be 

 kindled, and then we undo all the first work and begin over 

 again with a little more heart in it, for we see at last that it 

 has to be done and done well. 



With what bright visions and anticipations of rest and 

 recreation and sport do we make a camp; how reluctant and 

 cheerless the breaking up. A good deal of packing talk was 

 indulged in that evening, but little was actuallydone. A 

 few things were folded up, the store tent taken down and 

 put where it would be out of the dew, one of the stoves 

 "unlimbered," and we went to bed feeliug that a start had 

 been made toward breaking up the pleasant camp. 



At daybreak I crawled softly out of the tent, leaving Jim 

 and Muller peacefully snoring, and without disturbing any of 

 the others, took a boat, the old rod and a bucket of frogs, and 

 pulled quietly across the lake and down to the little bay 

 where I had done the first early morning fishing, a mile and 

 a half below, where I knew it was good to be while the 

 mists were yet on the water, for some bass were there and I 

 wanted a farewell solitary "fish," alone and undisturbed, for 

 the afternoon was to begin the real work of packing up. 



With due respect to the gregarious element of the brother- 

 hood, I have a notion that to enjoy to the full the contem- 

 plative man's recreation, the angler should have no com- 

 panion but his rod, no one to disturb his meditations, none 

 to bother him with needless suggestions, none to feel a twinge 

 of envy at his triumphs or dole out scanty sympathy at his 

 defeats. The angler and his rod are always the 'best of 

 friends, and no dissensions mar their companionship. 



By the time the sun was half an hour high I was off the 

 point near the bay with four large-mouthed bass and five 

 longsnouts, a fair morning's fishing if I got no more. Just 

 at the head of a belt of bulrushes a few rods below the point 

 I took the first and only small-mouthed bass that fell to my 

 rod during the trip. A good many had been taken by the 

 others, but my luck had run to big-mouths, and I was so 

 elated over the capture of this game fellow, a 31-pounder, 

 that I would not have exchanged him for a score of the other 

 variety, and a boat load of longsnouts thrown in. 



The small-mouth is king, and I stand up for him to the 

 last. 



Along the rushes for a couple of hundred yards and back 

 I took six more big-mouths and lost a small-mouth at the last 

 that took a turn around an old sunken log standing on end 

 just below the top of the water, and he broke away with the 

 hook, gimp and a yard or more of line. The performance 

 took place in plain sight, as the boat was within a few feet 

 of the log when he dashed around it, too close in fact to hold 

 him away from it, else the mishap might not have occurred. 

 It would be a waste of words to try to tell the glories of that 

 brief fight and how big that bass was, and it is not necessary 

 to speak further of the log, for it would require an intimate 

 knowledge of several languages to do it proper justice. 

 With a simple but vehement "Great Scott!" I wilted down 

 on the seat of the boat, tied on another hook, and headed up 

 lake toward camp, for the calamity had given me a backset 

 that it would take days to get over, and I was ready to go 

 back and assist the others in the preparations to break up 

 and go home. At the point near the old log road another 

 bass fell a victim to the wiles of the seductive speckled frog 

 and I pulled across to camp with twenty fish, having taken 

 three more longsnouts coming up. The summer's work of 

 the faithful old rod was over and it was to be laid away, to 

 do no more trusty battle against the bronze-backed warriors 

 of the northern waters for another year. Write it down, ye 

 younger fry of the rising generation of anglers, that an 

 honest rod is a priceless friend, whether trimmed with luster- 

 less brass, or resplendent in burnished silver. 



None of the others had been out to wet a line, and now 

 the re3t of the day was to be devoted to packing up every- 

 thing not needed for the night and an early breakfast. 

 After lingering around the camp-fire in the evening till late 

 bed time, listening to the last of the series of open-air con- 

 certs given nightly by our friends the mosquitoes, the circle 

 broke up in silence, feeliug that doubtless this would be the 

 last night the happy family, "the Joneses," would pass to- 

 gether with all the present members ready to answer to roll 

 call, it might be for years and it might be forever. But 1 am 

 sure the memories of that delightful summer vacation will 

 be a bright spot in the lives of "our girls," that will live 

 with them to be talked of till their locks are turned to silver, 

 and the old friendship more firmly cemented, and the new 

 ones formed there in that pleasant Camp of the Kingfishers 

 will endure till old Father Time flourishes his scythe as a 

 signal that w^e are wanted in the happy hunting grounds. 



By 9 o'clock in the morning everything was packed except 

 the tents and fly, which were left to the last that the sun 

 might drive out the last dew drop hiding in the canvas to 

 start a mildew; and when they were at last folded and in 

 the boxes, the signal whistle of the little tug away down the 

 lake warned us we had finished none to soon, for we had 

 decided to go out by Leland, and Captain Dunkelow had 

 promised to call for us on his way up to the big wood pile, 

 and give us a ride back on the forward end of a loaded wood 

 scow. 



At the Narrows going down we slowed up a minute below 

 the bridge to cast off neighbor Couturier's boats, which were 

 towing astern, and waving him an adieu as he stood in the 

 back door of the store [Bob said she'd like to stop and get a 

 chunk of maple sugar], we were soon out of sight of the 

 sleepy little hamlet and into the widening lake below. 



It is a glorious sheet of water from the Narrows down to 

 Leland, more lovely, if anything, than the upper part, and 

 I longed to put the old rod together and make just one more 

 cast at one or two likely-looking places along the rush-lined 

 shore; but it was an idle wish, prompted only by an ingrained 

 love of the gentle sport. As we neared the village the puff- 

 ing little tug seemed to be going straight ashore, but just as 

 we were looking for her to strike she swung into a narrow, 

 winding stream, not noticed before — the outlet of the lake— 

 and in a few minutes we were at the landing, almost in the 

 business part of the town. 



Here the "calamities" were loaded on a tramcar and run 

 out on the pier on the Lake Michigan side, a couple of hun- 

 dred vards or so away, tor which we paid the modest sum of 

 $1.50" an indication that the tramway must have cost "a 

 heap o' money" if the sum paid was to be taken as an aver- 

 age rate of interest on the outlay. But "it was good enough 

 for the Joneses, fur they never was used to the very best o' 

 treatment nohow," and we were satisfied. We hurried down 

 to the pier, as the Gaptaxn was afraid the Cummings had 

 arrived on her way from Frankfort and gone by; but we 



waited oyer an hour before she hove in sight, which served 

 as a reminder of Billy G.'s experience in catching a train one 

 morning when he started to go a short distance from the city 

 for a day's fishing. As he neared one end of the depot he 

 saw the train pulling out at the other, and he just "humped 

 himself" on a dead run till he overtook it, panting and puff- 

 ing like a wind-broken horse, and utterly spent. Slamming 

 his lunch basket, minnow bucket and rod up on the rear 

 platform, he scrambled after them, and sat down on the top 

 step all out of breath, but feeling mighty good that the laugh 

 was now on his side instead of the score or more of hangers- 

 on who had cheered him in his race. In telling it, he said: 

 "After I got on the platform the train didn't go more than 

 fifty feet till it stopped, and then the cussed thing switched 

 off on another track and backed right straight into the depot, 

 and didn't start for a plumb half an hour." 



When the Cummings had made fast to the pier all went 

 at once on board, except old Ben, who staid behind to super- 

 intend the landing of the baggage and "hev some fun" with 

 the knot of village idlers standing around "sizing np" the 

 party. As the boatmen took hold of Jim's big box to slide 

 it down the gang plank, Ben said in his deliberate, solemn 

 way, "Look out boys, don't drop that overboard, fur it con- 

 tains the trapeze fixin's an' tight ropes on which Mamselle 

 Hyperboler Jones over there [pointing to one of the girls 

 standing on the upper deck] does her astonishm' double- 

 geared act o' turnin' five summersets on two ropes," and as 

 one of the camp chests was started down tbe plank, "Easy 

 now with that feller, it's got Signor Jamec Mackerel's wing- 

 less flyin' masheen in it an' his shoes that he walks on the 

 water with — when it's froze," with a solemn wink at them 

 that started a grin in the crowd, for they had begun to 

 "ketch on," as a slangy girl would translate it. When they 

 came to the frog box in which were the dog tent and minuow 

 buckets, not visible through the wires, they were cautioned, 

 "Handle that mighty keerful, my friends, fur it's got the 

 trained rattlesnakes in it an' the big Californy boa constructor 

 thats eats a bushel of frogs every day." Then a packing box 

 was rolled on the plank with, "Don't spill that box in the 

 water whatever ye do, fur it's got all the ladies' spangled 

 gyarments in it what they perform in, an' if we'd lose that 

 tne show would be busted ; " and so on till the last piece was 

 on, when be got aboard and turned with a wave of his hand 

 and "Good-bye folks," and then to "SigDor James Mackerel," 

 who looked like the roustabout of the "show," "Did ye feed 

 them snakes to-day?" 



Rare Ben! "yer like is not on the face o' this livin' airth. " 



Captain Robertson pulled the signal bell, the screw turned, 

 and in live minutes we were steaming at full speed up the 

 coast through a soft blue haze that took the elders of the 

 "Kingfishers" back to the glorious dreamy Indian summer 

 days of years ago when, with boat and rod" they stole off up 

 the river of a Saturday, leaving the Sunday wood uncut, to 

 feast on "water grapes" and learn with patient zeal the mys- 

 teries of the gentle art. 



Rounding Cathead Point we had yet forty-five miles to 

 Traverse City, but the afternoon was so lovely and the bay 

 so quiet, barely rippled by a lazy breeze, that we took no 

 note of distance and were only aroused from the enjoyment 

 of the delightful ride by a prolonged scream of the ear-split 

 ting whistle for North port. Here we stopped a few minutes 

 to discharge some freight and a couple of Indian families 

 goiug to attend a camp meeting of their brethren then in full 

 blast somewhere back in the "bresh." At Omena, Captain 

 Robertson kindly made a departure from his time schedule 

 to allow us to have a look at Brother Fould's New Mission 

 farm, he going along to show us the farm, where we spent 

 over an hour, and were well repaid for the walk of a mile 

 from the lauding to the house and back to the boat. It was 

 dark when we got aboard again, but the little steamer was 

 put to her best speed and shortly before 10 o'clock we were 

 at the wharf at Traverse, and at 11 o'clock were on the I rain 

 and off for home, however, leaving behind Miss Fanny, 

 Jim and Mother Jim, for a ten days' further jaunt up around 

 Charlevoix, Petoskey and Mackinaw Island. 



At Fort Wayne, Ind., we parted with the old "Pelicau," 

 "Hyperboler" and Miss Bob with many regrets, leaving only 

 rive of the original "Jones family" to finish the journey, 

 after having spent the happiest vacation I think of our lives. 



And now in reeling up these "Carp Lake letters" 1 may say 

 to the readers of Forest and Stream that they have been 

 written under a good many difficulties— lack of time rightly 

 distributed and other circumstances have unavoidably caused 

 some interruptions; and if at times they have seemed tiresome 

 1 trust that this explanation may stand as a part excuse, and 

 that the brethren may have looked with lenient eye on my 

 shortcoming. They have been written with a view to please 

 "our girls," the brotherhood of the rod and all who read the 

 beloved old journal, and if anything has crept in that will 

 instruct, or any hint been given that will benefit a brother, 

 "the skipper" will be more than repaid for the writing, and I 

 close them with a kindly greeting to all who love the woods 

 and the waters and a good wish fraternal to every honest 

 angler "on the face o' this livin' airth." Kingfisher. 



Cincinnati, 0., July 15, 2 o'clock A. M. 



THE "SPEY" AND "SWITCH" CASTS. 



AT the recent angling tournament in England the judges 

 disqualified the "Spey" cast. On this subject Maj. 

 John P. Traherne writes to the Fishing Gazette as follows: 



"I have much pleasure in acceding to a request that I 

 should give my opinion as to whether the Spey cast should 

 have been allowed at the switch competition at the Casting 

 Tournament, held at Richmond on the 5th inst., and to 

 which it appears an objection was raised by one of the com- 

 petitors. In order that it may be perfectly understood on 

 what grounds my opinion is based, I propose to give a short 

 description of each, and also state the circumstances under 

 which they are usually adopted in actual practice. 



"In the case of a" switch the angler is supposed to be 

 standing on the banks of a river with either rocks or trees, 

 etc., in such close proximity to him, that to be able to fish 

 his water he must necessarily adopt this method. 



In making a switch the line is not lifted out of the water 

 in the first instance, as it is when casting in the ordinary 

 fashion, in which case the result would probably be that the 

 fly would either get hung up in the trees or smashed on 

 the rocks. What the angler, therefore, has to do is to lift 

 the line to the surface of the water by raising the point of 

 the rod, and then to drag it through the water in the direction 

 he is standing, carrying the point of the rod behind him as 

 far as such obstructions allow. Then, by a sudden down cast 

 of the rod, the line, as yet having been allowed to rest on the 

 water in front of him, is propelled with that force suggested 

 by the length required. During this process the fly has not 

 been lifted out of the water until the very last inch of the 



