Oct. 14, 1886.J 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



22 



New Year's Eve in Camp. 

 October. 

 My Attic. 

 Lotos Eating. 

 For tlie Times. 

 Drawers and Hewers. 

 All Things Come Round. 

 The Smiths. 

 To Gen. T. L. Young. 

 Woodland Princess. 

 Ballad of the Leekhook. 

 Remembered— L. K. 

 Mother and Child 

 A Summer Night. 

 That Trout. 

 New Year's Ode. 

 Stalking a Buck. 

 Greeting to the Dead. 

 Bessie Irelon. 



To John BuU on his Christmas. 



Desiluoao. 

 May. 



Isabel Nye. 

 Puir Buffle. 

 Watching the River. 

 The Banshee. 

 An Arkansas Idyl. 

 Miah Jones. 

 Tropical Scrap. 

 Haste. 

 At Anchor. 

 Deacon John. 

 Temperance Song. 

 O'Leary's Lament. 

 Wellsboro as a Temperance 

 Town. 



Crusading the Old Saloon. 

 The Cavan Girl. 

 From the Misanthrope. 

 Wliy I Love Hiawatha; a Tale. 



DEDICATION. 



TO MY BHOTHEB CHARLES. 



T^OT that the gift of poesy is mine, 

 ■^^ Nor that I claim the poet's meed of praise. 

 But in remembrance of the golden days 

 Of youth, have I inscribed these simple lays 

 To thee, my brother, and to auld lang syne. 



The roUing years have thinned our locks of brown 

 To a scant fleece of salt-and-pepper gray; 

 More rapidly tbe seasons pass away; 

 With steadier, slower beat our pulses play; 



We like the country rather than the town, 



And have a strong dislike to noise and riot. 

 The Are of youth no longer warms our veins; 

 And, being subject to rheumatic pains. 

 We grow prophetic as to winds and rains. 



And like tO be well fed, well clothed, and quiet. 



That we are past our yotith is all too plain; 

 And nearing rapidly the Dark Divide. 

 Oil, passing weary is this middle tide 

 Of life, which I would give, with aught beside, 



To live one year of boyliood o'er again! 



It may not be. The wrinkles on each face 

 Are past erasure: and not many years 

 Can glide ere one of us ^vith blinding tears 

 SbaU stand beside the marble which uprears 



Above a friend the world cannot replace. 



MY NEIGHBOR OVER THE WAY. 



T KNOW where an old philosopher dwells, 



A bearded cynic, of wit and sense. 

 In a broad, white web, with curious ceUs, 



On the sunny side of the garden fence. 

 He passes the days in ^-irtuous ease. 



Watching the world with Ms many eyes; 

 And I think he is sorry when he sees 



How his web entangles the moths and flies. 



I have a neighbor, a legal man— 



We meet on the sidewalk every day. 

 (He is shrewd to argue, scheme and plan. 



Is my legal neighbor over the way.) 

 He talks, perhaps, a trifle too much— 



But he knows such a A^ast deal more than I. 

 We have in our village a dozen such, 



Who do no labor— the Lord knows why. 



But they eat and drink of the very best. 



And the cloth that they wear is soft and fine, 

 And they have more money than all the rest, 



With handsome houses, and plate and wine. 

 And I ponder at times, when tired and lame. 



How strangely the gifts of fortune fall, 

 And wonder if we are not to blame, 



Who have so little, yet pay for all. 



Alas for the workmen over the land 



Who labor and watch, but wait too long; 

 Wh.0 wear the vigor of brain and hand 



On trifling pleasures, and drink, and song. 

 Alas for the strength too much diffused. 



And the sights that lure from the better way. 

 For the gifts and riches we have not used, 



And the true hearts beating to swift decay. 



Alas for the twig, perversely bent, 



And the tree of knowledge, to wrong inclined. 

 Alas that a dollar was ever spent 



Until the dollar was earned or mined. 

 But my neighbor is one who understands 



All social riddles; and he explains 

 That some must labor with calloused hands. 



While others may work with tongues and brains. 



Though he doesn't make it so very clear 



"Why he should fare much better than one 

 Who does more work in a single year 



Than he in all of his life has done. 

 But he argues me out of all demur 



With logic that fogs my common sense. 

 And I think of fclie old philosopher, 



WTiose "shingle" hangs by the garden fence. 



MICKLE RUN FALLS. 



■ppRONT-FACING the east, where the Falls are downpouring, 



A fairy-like rainbow is formed on the spray. 

 Beneath it the watei's are rushing and roaring 



To the pool, where by moonlight the brown otters play, 

 Are rushing and roaring, and dashing and roaring, 

 Away to the vale where the eagle is soaring. 



And the blue Susquehanna sweeps dovm to the bay. 



By the point of the rocks, at the foot of the mountain. 

 Foaming over a boulder moss-covered and gray, 



Is bubbling and gushing a crystalline fountain. 

 Where the x'ed deer are browsing the long summer day. 



Are daintily browsing, are warily browsing. 



Above the deep pool where the trout are carousing. 

 And the slide of the otter is moist with the spray. 



THAT TROUT. 



I'VE watched that trout for days and days, 

 I've tried him with all sorts of tackle; 

 With flies got up in various ways. 

 Red, blue, green, gray, and silver-hackle. 



I've tempted him with angle-dogs, 



And grubs, that must have been quite trying. 

 Thrown deftly in betwixt old logs. 



Where, probably, he might be lying. 



Sometimes I've had a vicious bite. 

 And as the silk'was tautly running, 



Ha,ve been con^nnced I had him, quite: 

 But 'twasn't him; he was too cunning. 



I've tried him, when the silver moon 

 Shone on my dew-bespangled trousers. 



With dartfish; but he was "too soon"— 

 Though, sooth to say, I caught some rousers; 



And sadly viewed the ones I caught. 

 They loomed so small and seemed so poor. 



'Twas finding pebbles where one sought 

 A gem of price— a Kohinoor. 



I've often weighed him (with my eyes), 

 As he with most prodigious flounces 



Rose to the surface after flies. 

 (He weighs four pounds and seven ounces.) 



I tried him— Heaven absolve my soul— 

 With some outlandish, heathenish gearing— 



A pronged machine stuck on a pole — 

 A process that the boys call spearing. 



I jabbed it at his dorsal fin 

 Six feet beneath the crystal water— 



'Twas all too short. I tumbled in. 

 And got half drowned— just as I'd orfcer. 



Adieu, oh trout of marvelous size, -' 

 Thou piscatorial, speckled wonder, 



Bright be the waters where you rise, 

 And green the banks you cuddle under. 



MY HOUND. 



X "Wandered far in many a clime, 



And many a f aitlif ul friend have found, 

 But none who better deserves my rhyme 



Than brave old Nigger, my faithful hound. 

 For never a man on land or sea 

 Had truer ally or friend than he. 



His coat is sleek as an Arab steed, 

 He is clean of limb as a yearling deer. 



A match for the greyhound in his speed. 

 With a voice so loud and silvery clear 



You would swear, as he sweeps thro' mountain dells, 



'Twas a musical chime of vesper bells. 



Often, when tired of tliis strife for bread. 

 Have he and I wandered where gurgling rills 



In purity spring from their mountain bed 

 In the ice-cold bosoms of distant hills; 



And leaAang the world to its wearisome ways. 



Have built us a shanty and. camped for days. 



And often when night closed over our camp. 

 And he was away on the track of deer. 



Have I breathless listened to catch the tramp 

 Of his pattering feet draw swiftly near. 



I have listened till silence became a pain. 



But never yet did I listen in vain. 



I have lain by my camp-fire's glowing light. 



And lazily fingered his silken ears, 

 Till meeting his eyes, so wistfully bright, 



My own have silently filled with tears. 

 As I thought with shame of some harsh rebuff 

 To my poor dumb friend, when my mood was rough. 



OUR LITTLE PRINCE. 



' T ITTLE CHARLEY is a prince," 

 J-' So we said in joyous pride, 

 As we loitered side by side. 

 Where the roses bloomed and died. 

 Half a dozen summers since. 



He was rustling through the leaves. 

 Where the golden tassels swayed. 

 Half in pleasure, half afraid. 

 Hiding in the furrowed shade. 



Where the August cricket grieves. 



Silken tassels on the corn,. 

 Silken curls about his head; 

 "Which is which?" we laughing said; 

 While the sun a glory shed 



On the curls and tasseled corn. 



Saxon eyes and face and hair, 

 Saxon blood in every vein. 

 Cheeks like roses after rain; 

 Never shall we see again 



Childish loveliness so rare. 



When the apple and the quince 

 All their simimer fragrance shed. 

 How we miss our darling dead; 

 How we miss the curly head 



Of our lovely little prince. 



Little Charley was a prince— 

 But, somebody in the sky 

 Had more need of him than I, 

 So we laid him down to die 



Half a dozen summers since. 



AdO/ress all comnmnimt'kms to the Forest and Stream Pub. Co. 



THE SENSIBILITY OF FISHES TO PAIN. 



TO WHAT extent physical injury to fishes is attended 

 by that form of sensation which we know as pain, is 

 a question of interest to everj;, angler. An answer may 

 be sought in two ways. Either the nervous organization 

 of a fish may be studied and an answer be reasoned out 

 from the anatomical facts so found, as indeed has already 

 been done; or, an answer may be sought from the behavior 

 of fishes under conditions calculated to produce pain. 

 Each method of investigation is a check upon and a sup- 

 plement of the other; nor can the investigation be con- 

 sidered complete until both have been followed to a con- 

 clusion, and the results afforded by each have been foimd 

 to be in accord. 



Should each member of the angling fraternity contri- 

 bute to some common center such incidents in his personal 

 experience as seemed to bear upon the question, facts 

 probably of value and certainly of interest would be made 

 matters of record, and be rescued from oblivion. Induced 

 by the hope that others will follow my example and 

 contribute to the Forest and Stream such events of 

 Hke character as may be within theii" own knowledge, I 

 relate the following: 



On the 31st day of last July, on the Grand Cascapedia 

 River, in Canada, my fly was taken by a salmon with 

 about the average degree of vigor ordinarily displayed by 

 that fish. A swu-1 on the surface of the water, there some 

 seven or eight feet deep, first showed the presence of the 

 fish. Then the fly was dragged downward, to which the 

 usual response of thi'owing the spring of the rod upon the 

 fish was of course promptly made. As is not unusual 

 with salmon, the fish seemed to return to its lau', where 

 for some moments it remained perfectly passive. We were 

 in doubt at fli-st whether it was a salmon or a large sea 

 trout, the fish itself not having shown when the fly was 

 taken. But the drag on the line remaining steadily down- 

 ward and straight away— a characteristic of the salmon— 

 rather than swerving off to one side, as is the usual course 

 of the sea trout, we concluded it was a salmon, and, rais- 

 mg the anchor, ijrepared for battle. 



To this overture the fish promptlv responded by a dash 

 of some sixty or seventy yards, ending the run by a beau- 

 tiful leap into the air. We then noticed something red 

 on Its abdomen, and supposed some one had raked it with 

 a gaff. Upon regaining the water the fish remamed 

 quiescent for a moment or two, which interval was im- 

 proved by a;pproaching it with the canoe and regaining 

 hne._ Then it was off again in another brilliant run, end- 

 mg m a second leap into the air. In brief, the fish fought 

 tor some twenty-five or thu-ty minutes with a vigor decid- 

 ecUy up to, if not beyond, the average, leaping in all three 

 times and making quite a, number of energetic and pro- 

 tracted iiins. ^ 



But time pressed, so we put in practice a perfectly feasi- 

 ble but to me very distasteful method of abridging the 

 contest. We had by that time worked the sahnon down 

 stream mto quite deep and rather sluggish water. Keep- 

 mg up an even strain and gTaduallv shortening fine the 

 canoe was slowly brought up to and over the unsuspect- 

 ing fash. My gaffer, seizing an opportune moment, sank 

 Ins gaff beneath it, and the next moment it was flounder- 

 ing m the bottom of the canoe. When there I never saw 

 a fish display more vigor. It thrashed and banged upon 

 the bottom and sides of the canoe so that the noise was 

 heard and commented on by a gentleman fishing some 

 thi-ee-quarters of a mile above. In short, I feel confident 

 that no salmon fisherman would have charged this fish 

 from first to last with any lack of energy in its struggle 

 for liberty and life. 



Yet about four- mches in front'of the vent a pyramid of 

 flesh had been bitten out of its belly measuring about Sin. 

 fore and aft and about 3fin. in the direction toward the 

 backbone. Both walls of the abdominal cavity and its 

 contents were removed withm this area, the wound ex- 

 tending to the flesh situated between the backbone and 

 tliat cavity. I had, of course, no means of weighing the 

 missmg portion of the fish, but I then estimated that it 

 would rather exceed than fall short of a third of a pound. 

 1 have quahhed the measm-ements given above by the 

 word -about, ' because, from lack of means, they were 

 estimated and not actuaUy measm-ed. But a limit of error 

 ot halt an inch will certainly more than cover any inac- 

 curacy. J 



rM^^^^xY^^^^ perfectly raw and fresh in appearance. 

 Older than forty-eight hom-s it certainly could not have 

 been, while it looked to me as though two hours, or even 

 less, would be very much nearer the mark. It was sup- 

 posed to be the work of an otter. 



This salmon weighed 251bs. plump just as it was after 

 it had been killed. Henry P. Wells. 



New York, Oct. 8. 



Cuttyhunk Club.— New York, Oct. 13.— In an editorial 

 m your issue of the 7th inst., headed "Striped Bass," re- 

 ferring to their scarcity, etc., you say, "So far none have 

 been taken by the Cuttyhunk Club." In this you are in 

 error, as the fish taken this season comprise the following- 

 On Aug. 18, by Mr. Wm. H. Woodliull, 1 bass, ISilbs.; <m 

 Sept. 13, by Mr. Wm. McGroorty 1, 27ilbs.; and on Oct. 

 1, byMr. WoodhuU, 1, SOlbs.; in all 8 bass, averaging 

 231bs. each. When you take into consideration the fact 

 that but a few years ago our record shows that from 

 about June 10 to Oct. 10, 875 bass were taken, weighing 

 near 7,0001bs. , an average of about 81bs. each, bass fisher- 

 men may well inquu-e what has become of the bass?— 

 Henry P. McGown, 



Shad on a Hook,— Early this week Mr. D. Harris, of 

 230 Fulton street, Brooklyn, was fishing for "snappers," 

 as young bluefish are called, from the iron pier at Eocka- 

 way. He had been using the spearing {Menidia) for bait, 

 and had not been very fortunate, when he suddenly had 

 a strike from a larger fish and f otmd on landing it that it 

 was a shad. We saw the fish when Mr. Harris brought it 

 ' in to Mr. Blackford at Fulton Market and identified it. 

 The weight of the fish was If lbs. Mr. Harris left it on 

 exhibition and many anglers viewed it with interest. 

 According to old theories the shad should not be in this 

 vicinity at this time, and therefore the capture is of great 

 interest. 



