292 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[May 3, 1888, 



GOING TO GU1NEA.-I. 



I PRESUME the reader has some time in his life been 

 told to "go to Guinea. " It may be lie has not attempted 

 to follow the advice. I congratulate him if he has not. 

 I speak from experience. I have tried to go to Guinea. 

 This is how it happened; 



On a summer day at Sandwich, N. H. , while exhibit- 

 ing my fly-rod to a local angler and explaining the mys- 

 teries of fly-fishing, he remarked: "You had better go to 

 Guinea." "Sir?" I observed. "To Guinea Pond, I mean, 

 Parson," he replied, "where you can get trout weighing 

 two or three pounds, which I kinder calcerlate would 

 twist that little rod o' yourn into a knot you couldn't un- 

 tie." "Thank you," I responded, "I shall be glad, if ever 

 this rainy weather breaks, to profit by your suggestion." 

 "But , "continued my brother angler, "it's a mighty hard 

 place to find ; you'll want a guide. The pond is over be- 

 yond Guinea Hill, between Mt. Israel and Black Moun- 

 tain, it's a long rough way to it, but when you get there, 

 if the trout are in bitin' mood, you'll be well paid. On 

 the first fair day, if you want to go, I am the man to show 

 you the way, and will show you that an alder pole and 

 an angle worm will beat that gourd stick of a rod and 

 them flies all out, when you come to the sober business of 

 fishing." 



"My friend," said I "you are my man; the first fair 

 day — may it come to-morrow — is the time. With such a 

 prospect I wifi go with you even to Guinea." 



The next day was rainy. The day after was rainy. 

 The day after that was rainy. Sunday came and that 

 was rainy. Nine of us were prisoned in a farmhouse. 

 No blue was to be seen in the sky; there was blue enough, 

 however, in the spirits of our party. Monday came, and 

 brought no improvement in the ■weather. On the eighth 

 day my spirit rose Avithin me. 



"Friends," said I at our lugubrious breakfast, "man 

 was not born to be the victim of circumstances. There 

 comes a time when he must rise out of his unfavorable 

 environment." "What's up now?" asked one of our 

 party. "What's up?" I replied, with a touch of heroism, 

 "I am happy to tell you I am determined to conquer this 

 weather. I will this day, though another flood is coming, 

 as I half believe it is, go to Guinea." For awhile the 

 company was speechless. The silence was at length 

 broken by Johnny, aged twelve, with the question, "May 

 I go?" "Yes, Johnny," said I, "you may go." "Cer- 

 tainly, said his mother, "he may go: you will be well 

 mated: only my wonder is that a boy of Johnny's mature 

 years should wish to do so absurd a thing on such a day 

 as this." That settled it; I was now fully determined. 



After breakfast I said to our Yankee host, "Can you 

 drive Johnny and me to Guinea Hill this morning?" "I 

 can," said he, "but I kinder think — "Yes," I broke in, 

 "I know what you think; you think we don't know what 

 we are about: and really this dogged weather has pretty 

 much taken our senses away; but to Guinea we are going 

 nevertheless." Half an hour afterward we had started 

 on our four mile drive. 



"Really, now, Parson," said our host, after we bad 

 driven a mile in the rain, "really now, you don't know 

 what you have undertaken. You've a bigger job on your 

 hands than you reckon on. There is trouts in Guinea 

 Pond; but you won't find 'em. Them that professes to 

 know the way to the pond says that hunting for the nest 

 of a settin' hen is easy compared to findin' that place, 

 even when the sun shines." I own I felt a little dam- 

 pened, not in my ardor, but from the rain dripping down 

 my back under my rubber coat, dropping into my neck 

 from my host's umbrella. 



Arriving at the base of the mountain my host bade us 

 good-bye, after it had been agreed that he should come 

 for us at six o'clock in the afternoon. It was then nine 

 o'clock in the morning. 



We knocked at the door of the solitary rude farm- 

 house. I had fondled the hope within myself that I 

 should find at this house some unemployed farmhand 

 who wouldn't mind a wetting and could show us the way 

 to our destination. An old lady came to the door at our 

 knock. In answer to our question, she told us all the 

 men folks were absent, attending the trial of a suspected 

 horse thief. 



"Can you tell us the way, madam, to Guinea Pond?" 



"Bless you, no; nobody could tell you. Thirty years 

 ago I went there once, and have never wanted to go 

 since." 



"How far is it?" I asked. 



"Well, it is two and a half miles to the old mill site; 

 when you get there you are right by the pond ; but unless 

 you know how you can't find it. A party that went up 

 there last fall got lost and stayed in the woods all night, 

 and they had a guide at that, a fellow who had been to 

 the pond three or four times." 



"Is it hard to find the old mill site?" I asked. 



"Well, I guess you could find that, it is an open road 

 all the way; it used to be traveled a good deal before the 

 mill was burnt. When you are there, the pond is not 

 far." 



I then held a council with Johnny. "Johnny,' 1 .said 

 I, "I am afraid we are in a pickle. I would rather give 

 an honest man an honestly-earned dollar than not find 

 Guinea Pond, but I have a suspicion it is going to be a 

 hard thing to do. What do you say; shall we wait here 

 till night, or go on?" "Go on," he said. There was in 

 htm the true spirit of boyhood. 



We started. Our way led first through a field, then in- 

 to a pasture; up 'through the pasture into woods; through 

 woods and through brakes and briers to an opening, 

 which proved to be an old orchard. There oiu' road ended. 

 We reconnoitered. We found the cellar of an old 

 house; then we understood the situation. We were on a 

 long-deserted farm, fast going back to its primitive state. 



The rain had held up thus far on our foot-journey; it 

 now began to pom 1 again. We might have mused awhile; 

 we might with our imaginations have rebuilt that house 

 and peopled it, and followed with our mental eye the 

 struggles of the occupants against their hard surround- 

 ings till their hope was broken and some died and others 

 fled. We didn't, however. We wandered around the 

 opening for half an hour trying to find the way out. 

 We found a path; it looked like a cattle path; it was the 

 best we could do — we took it. Presenty the path forked; 

 we followed the bigger branch. It forked again. A fog 

 came down; presently we had no path all. We wandered 

 on, trying to find som& trail, I began to realize how the 

 lost babes in the woods must have felt. "Johnny," I said, 

 "we are lost. Sit here on this log with me and rest a 



bit; then we must pick our own steps backward." At 

 that moment, however, the fog lifted a little; we saw a 

 clearing, and soon found ourselves back at the orchard 

 at the precise point where we had left it. We had spent 

 am hour on our detour. Then we searched for another 

 path, determined not to get on a cattle trail again. At 

 last across the orchard, we found a road into the woods. 

 Once more we started. Through brakes and brush and 

 water; sometimes through running streams; with the 

 spruces and hemlocks dripping their burden of rain-drops 

 upon us — we waded and tugged. It had long since 

 ceased to be play with us; it was wearying work. Up, 

 still up. I looked tp see Johnny yield in despair; I al- 

 most hoped he would, but when I asked him how he 

 liked it he said: "Oh, it's as good as going in swimming." 



"Johnny," said I when I had pulled through a stretch 

 of 'mud, "comehez'e; do you know what tracks those 

 are?" He looked and thought they might; be a cow's 

 tracks. "Look carefully, Johnny, did you ever see a cow 

 have such claws as made that print? Johnny, there has 

 been a bear along here this morning." "A bear!" and 

 Johnny did look a little pale. "Do not be afraid," said I 

 "there are bears in the mountains, but you need never be 

 afraid of them. If we should see this one — I hope we 

 shall — he wall run from us; there is something in human 

 na,tui-e, even in a boy, that strikes terror to every wild 

 beast, bears included." I had a new admiration for 

 Johnny when he did not even even propose to turn back. 



Weli, we arrived at last at the charred remains of an 

 old mill. We had begun to think we should never find 

 it; we had been three hours in search for it; we breathed 

 a little easier when we sat down on a wet log and made 

 fresh calculations. 



"Johnny," said I "according to what we have been 

 told, our difficulties are now to begin. Guinea is not far 

 from here, but the way to it is a mystery. Now I have a 

 theory. You see this stream, it appears to me it must 

 flow from or flow into the pond. We had better follow 

 this stream one way or the other; there is no path to help 

 us, as we were told; now which shall we do, go down the 

 stream or up?" 



"Up," said Johnny. 



We began the climb. The brook was well stocked with 

 darting trout, but I had started for the two or three 

 pounders; I would have those or none; so my rod re- 

 mained in its case. We came to walls hard to scale; we 

 were scratched and tangled in the brush; we leaped dan- 

 gerous precipices. An horn- we kept on; the way, if pos- 

 sible, grow worse and worse. The stream, as we neared 

 its source, lessened in size, till I was reasonably sure its 

 source was some spring on Mt. Israel, up which we were 

 in fact climbing. Then Johnny from, sheer exhaustion, 

 began to falter; he made no complaint, but I saw some 

 signs of discouragement on his face. 



"Johnny," said I, "we should have followed the stream 

 down instead of up; we've made a mistake this time. 

 Now let us find a place under some roof of rocks and eat 

 our lunch." 



There was, for the boy, magic in the word. He had 

 forgotten that I was carrying such an article as a lunch 

 in my new creel. His face brightened. 



That lunch! It was put up in a hurry in the morning, 

 and had not been looked at afterward. The ingredients, 

 as far as I recall them, were boiled eggs, sandwiches, 

 doughnuts, crackers, apple pies and cookies, all done up 

 in a newspaper. It was a little unfortunate that my new 

 fish basket, while sufficiently tidy, was not water tight. 

 Our lunch had been well soaked. In fact it was a hash. 

 The crackers and cookies had become dough; the pies 

 had spread themselves on the doughnuts; the wet news- 

 paper had insinuated itself into everything; the salt for 

 eggs had dissolved and seasoned the whole. Even in a 

 boarding house might occasionally be seen a more artis- 

 tic hash than that was. There was one good thing about 

 it, however—there was plenty. It was not, of course, such 

 as Heliogabalus delighted in; but I could eat another 

 such, provided I was equally hungry. One of our dis- 

 comforts in eating was the want of spoons. 



"Johnny," said I, after we had rested ourselves awhile, 

 "it is certain now we are going to be beaten to-day. My 

 only hope is that by following the stream up a little 

 further, we shall come to the pond . Six of our nine hours 

 are already gone. We shall have no time for fishing, 

 even if we find the pond. Let us go on for half an 

 hour, and then acknowledge oirrselves defeated and 

 retreat." 



For half an hour more we climbed. Now tln-ough 

 gloomy dripping gorges; now over fallen trees; now wad- 

 ing the stream. Then we turned our faces downward. 

 We both had a touch of home-sickness. At six o'clock 

 that afternoon we met our host at the base of the moun- 

 tain. There was a merry twinkle in his eye when he 

 asked us, "What luck?" "Good luck," said Johnny, 

 "we saw a bear's track and didn't see any bear." 



That night our company at the house tried to poke fun 

 at us. We saAv no point in then- joke. Going to Guinea 

 with us was a serious business. Nevertheless, after we 

 had changed our sopping clothes for dry ones, and had 

 eaten a hearty supper. Johnny and I pledged ourselves 

 we would go to Guinea yet. 



Some days later we did go. We found the pond and 

 brought home some big trout. That, however, is a story 

 yet to be told. 



I point the moral of this section of my narrative. Ad- 

 vice is cheap. To tell a person to go to Guinea is easy; 

 to go is a different thing. Oscar F. Safford, D.D. 



The Thief Might Have Returned It.— West Chester. 

 Pa., April 10.— Editor Forest and Stream: "The Angler's 

 Guide to Michigan," about which I wrote a year or so 

 ago, I sent to an official of the Canadian Pacific Railway, 

 who had his satchel stolen on the train, and my MS. 

 with its other contents. I kept no copy, and have never 

 yet mustered sufficient courage to rewrite it. — J. H. 

 [We had been looking for the publication of this book; 

 the information it contained would have been of decided 

 value, and its loss, is to be deplored.] 



The Canandaioua Anglers' Association organized 

 last January, is in a prospering condition. The presi- 

 dent is Dr. Chas. T. Mitchel, whose angling verse has 

 often graced our columns. 



Louisiana. — Gold Dust Landing, Red River, April 16. 

 —Began fishing the past week. Had fine success with 

 white perch and black bass.— G. D, A, 



THE AUTOMATIC REEL. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



It may be of interest to your readers who have not tried 

 the automatic reel to hear the other side of the question. 

 All who have reported so far advocate their use. The 

 writer has seen them in use in actual fishing, and has 

 also used one himself , but does not like them. Have 

 known, in more than one instance, of the line becoming 

 so badly tangled upon the reel that it had to be cut off in 

 consequence of it being taken in too fast by the spring. 



Also have known of many large fish being lost by too 

 great a tension on the line, for the more line a fish takes 

 out the stiffer the spring becomes, and at seventy feet or 

 more the fine comes off the reel so hard that if a fish 

 wants more fine he is very likely to break away. I also 

 object to the weight of the reel in question. The music 

 of the click reel is, to me, a part of fly-fishing, and I 

 would not sacrifice it for all the automatic reels ever 

 made. A click can be arranged on the automatic, but if 

 the click is worth speaking of it interferes with the work- 

 ing of the reel , and besides seems altogether out of place. 



After several years' actual fly-fishing for large trout in 

 Maine, where I have used and seen used all kinds of reels, 

 and also for bass here during the summer, am satisfied 

 that a good click reel is the best possible reel for such 

 fishing. N. A. Plummter. 



Brattleboro, Vt., April 20. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



I notice that "Petra" does not think highly of that 

 compound of window-shade roller and fishing reel, called 

 "automatic." If the mechanism were good the principle 

 is wrong inasmuch as a spring is called in to do the work 

 of the hand. I have tried this reel and have no further 

 use for it. The spring is strong or weak, according as it 

 has been wound up by taking off line. So far we have 

 heard only its praises. "Petra" drew it very mild, he 

 might have compared it to a compound machine which 

 is liable to get out of order when wanted. Pesca. 



Salt- Water Fishing About New York.— At present 

 the flounder is the only attraction to the class of anglers 

 who can only run down to the bays for part of a day; but 

 in the course of a fortnight it is expected that sea bass 

 will appear, and then more and better fishing will be had. 

 Few not familiar with the facts have any idea of the 

 number of men who leave the city every day" for Jamaica 

 Bay, Staten Island, Sheepshead Bay and the East River, 

 most especially on Sundays, to fish for flounders. Last 

 Sunday morning we stood at the door of the railroad 

 station at Long Island City and counted the men who 

 passed to the trains during the quarter hour between 8:45 

 and 9 A, M., and they numbered 107. How many went 

 over the Long Island Railroad by earlier or later trains, 

 we have no idea. Most of these men looked like mechan- 

 ics, and had their lunches, sandworms, and were unmis- 

 takably flounder fishermen. Others, perhaps twenty, 

 looked like men belonging to seme of the numerous Long 

 Island clubs where trout fishing is the attraction, and no 

 doubt they did, as several of them were known to us as 

 club men. But the salt-water fishermen outnumbered 

 them five to one; and in conversation with some of the 

 latter we learned that the flounder season had been good, 

 but not up to the catch of two years ago, which they 

 remembered as a great flounder year. Down on the New 

 Jersey coast the striped bass have appeared, and in some 

 parts 'the fishing is good, but this is too far for the aver- 

 age city mechanic to go. 



The Niagara.— Buffalo, N. Y., April 27.— The perch in 

 the Niagara River are biting freely in certain localities. 

 Early in the week a friend tried near the head of Grand 

 Island and at Frenchman's Creek. He caught none. His 

 brother went to Burnt Ship Creek, near La Salle, and 

 returned with a good mess. Cayuga Creek at La Salle is 

 said to be swarming with bullheads. Ducks fly down 

 the river occasionally. This end of the lake is not yet 

 free of ice. — Eukn P. DORR. 



Run of Alewives on Long Island.— On Saturday last 

 the alewives began running in the streams at the eastern 

 end of Great South Bay, and great numbers were being 

 taken for food in the little brooks where they go to spawn. 

 Men and boys were dipping t hem up on most of the south 

 side streams. 



REMOVAL. 



The offices of Forest and Stream are now at In t o. 318 Broadway. 



THE MENHADEN QUESTION. 



Editor Forest and Stream. 



I have been much interested in the discussion of the "Men- 

 haden Question," and have been sometimes tempted to take 

 a hand in — more in the interest of natural science, however, 

 than in behalf of either party to the controversy. In the 

 heat of argument one is apt to* lose sight of underlying prin- 

 ciples, so that in discussing the causes of absence or diminu- 

 tion of fish life, it is well to inquire and observe, as Prof. 

 Baird and a few others have done, what effect absence of 

 food, changes of temperature, injections of hot or cold cur- 

 rents, storms, phenomenal tides, and physical submarine 

 disturbances in near or remote localities, have upon the 

 movements of fishes, their presence here at one time and 

 their absence at anofher ; and their sporadic or periodical 

 superabundance or dearth. 



We know what effect drouths, famine, and extreme physical 

 and meteorological disturbances have upon men, birds, and 

 animals, and certainly like conditions affect marine creatnres 

 quite as sensibly. It may be submitted, in general terms, 

 that it is easy to account for the erratic movements of fishes 

 on what may be called general principles, even if we cannot 

 trace direct and immediate causes. The food of fishes is 

 comprised in vegetable and animal diet, of forms gross and 

 most minute, and these sources of subsistence are liable to 

 be temporarily removed or permanently destroyed by causes 

 such as have been suggested. By similar causes deserts are 

 formed on land and fruitful tracts laid waste. Severe storms 

 will devastate great submarine areas, uprooting all organic 

 matter, and even displacing vast masses of rock, causing 

 land to disappear or emerge, and changing the contour of 

 entire regions. Temperature is a most potent co-efficient or 

 factor in the disturbance of marine life, though some forms 

 are far more sensitive than others to changes of climate 



