May 10, 1888.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



311 



Sussex Game Protective Association.— Hamburgh, 

 N. J., April 30. — Through the efforts of several members 

 of the Hamburgh Gun Club a game protective association 

 has been organized in compliance with the laws passed 

 by the Legislature in 1879, and is known as the Sussex 

 Game Protective Association. The officers are: Presi- 

 dent, John Linn; Vice-President, II. W. Edsall; Treas- 

 urer, John P. Walling: Secretary, Frank Kimble, Coun- 

 sel, Col. M. P. Kimble; Directors— John Linn. EL E. Pucle, 

 Noah H. Margarum, Wyatt W. Pierce, R. S. Edsall. 

 Amos Farber, C. D. Hoffman, Win. J. Williams, H. W. 

 Couplin, D. B. Ross. Until several years ago any good 

 sportsman visiting Sussex county was sure of a fine 

 string of fish or "large bag of game. It is not the case 

 now. The game laws have been unheeded and never 

 enforced against offenders. Resident and non-resident 

 hunters have shot everything at all times, and fykes, nets 

 and dynamite have been freely used in every lake and 

 stream, until it is almost an impossibility to catch a 

 decent-sized fish or shoot a bird in a three-days' outing. 

 Short-billed woodcock (young partridge) dinners are 

 greatly relished by campers at Greenwood and Wawa- 

 yanda lakes. At Stockholm, a famous retreat for sports- 

 men, 200 young partridge were killed and taken from the 

 vicinity last year by hunters who were out "woodcock 

 shooting." The leading sportsmen of this vicinity have 

 resolved to stop the slaughter of the game and enforce 

 the laws of the State. All the large land owners have 

 joined them, and the association proposes to make it 

 very uncomfortable for the first offender caught.— Suss ex. 



"The Rock Climbers."— The author of "The Rock 

 Climbers" series has received a very pleasant letter from 

 the Corporal of the Mounted Police who pursued and 

 captured "Yo" and Appekimny, as related by "Yo" last 

 week. The Corporal writes from Banff, Nor thwest Terri- 

 tories, and pays a tribute to the interesting character of 

 the series: "Early in January, from cold and exposure, 

 I got acute and inflammatory rheumatism, from which I 

 have been a helpless cripple ever since. I have been at 

 the Hot Springs for this last two months, and have com- 

 pletely recovered from the rheumatism, but I am a mere 

 skeleton and too weak to stand up. This is my first at- 

 tempt to write since I have been laid up. All through 

 my sickness and misery Forest and Stream was my 

 greatest comforter, above all the 'Rock Climbers' pleased 

 me best; and I longed for the week to pass so that I could 

 hear more of a place that I am so well acquainted with." 



"That reminds me." 

 232. 



IONCE heard my grandfather relate a "bear story" 

 which has ever since slept in my memory until last 

 night, when the effort to tell my share of hunting tales 

 recalled it to mind. My grandfather was one of those 

 pioneers who settled in parts of Oswego, Jefferson and 

 Lewis counties when that region was "a vast and howl- 

 ing wilderness." Into that wilderness he went with axe 

 and oxen, and near what is now the village of Lorraine 

 built his humble log cabin, and cleared several acres 

 of the rich forest land for cultivation. His first crop 

 was corn, and when autumn came he proceeded to gar- 

 ner the luxuriant teaseled grain. With the help of his 

 industrious wife over one-half of the corn was cut and 

 shocked the first day;, but that night a bear paid a visit, 

 to the harvest field and made sad havoc with the golden 

 sheaves. Next day the work of harvesting was finished 

 and all the corn was drawn close up to the house, except 

 two shocks winch were left down at the edge of the 

 woods for bait. When evening came, the musket was 

 heavily loaded for bear, and my ancestor in revengeful 

 spirit proceeded to watch for bruin's return. Snugly 

 secreted he watched through the long cold night, and not 

 until day had fairly dawned did he lose hope of bagging 

 the game, and return to the house. When he arrived 

 there, however, an aggravating sight met his eyes; his 

 valued corn lay torn and strewed over the ground and 

 half ruined. Bruin had been there regaling himself, 

 while grandfather had been patiently waiting in the cold 

 for him to show up where he ought to have appeared; 

 awake all night in mortal terror of the brute, which 

 several times sniffed through chinks between the logs. 



The animal never reappeared; and though my grand- 

 father grew old in that country, he never saw a real, 

 live, wild bear. D. F. IL 



Oswego, N. V. 



A Dining Car Line to the Pacific Coast.— The 

 completion of the all rail line between Portland. Ore., 

 and San Francisco gives the Pacific coast traveler an op- 

 portunity to patronize the famous Dining Car and Yel- 

 lowstone Park Line, the Northern Pacific Railroad. The 

 sportsman traveling in the West, whether a lover of the 

 rod or gun, naturally seeks this road, penetrating as it 

 does the lake park region of Minnesota, and running 

 through the valleys of such trout streams as the Yellow- 

 stone, Gallatin , Hell Gate, Clark's Fork, Spokane, Yakima 

 and Green Rivers, for a distance of fully 1,500 miles, as 

 well as lying immediately contiguous to the finest hunt- 

 ing grounds in the United States, viz.. The Big Horn, 

 Snowy, Belt, Bitter Root, Coeur D'Alerre and Cascade 

 Mountains. Information in regard to this region can be 

 obtained by addressing Charles S. Fei^. General Passen- 

 ger and Ticket Agent, N. P. R R., St. Paul, Minn.— Ade. 



The adventure ot Mr. William Lament of Towanda with a 

 broken-legged buck of Sullivan county has been given by 

 nearly all the papers that circulate in this vicinity, and is 

 now in the courts. Mr. Laurent fouud the deer near the road 

 when driving through the Sullivan forests on business, and 

 seeing it made no attempt to escape went to investigate. 

 The buck didn't wish to be investigated and made a very 

 active attack upon Mr. Lament who ran for his life. The 

 deer in following him got stuck in the snow and before lie 

 could extricate himself Mr. Lament killed him with a pocket 

 knife. He was charged with violation of the game laws and 

 recently had a hearing before Justice Codding and gave bail 

 for appearance at court to answer. The case will probably 

 be settled, but if the matter is pressed the defense will be 

 that the buck was the aggressor and was killed in self-defense. 

 Another defense, more equitable than legal, is that the in- 

 jured aniinal would have died any way of starvation, or 

 would hav*e fallen a victim to the wild cats and wolves that 

 infest the woods.— Towanda (Pa.) Reporter-Journal. 



AN APRIL DAY. 



tjMtOM the time we received our new almanac. Will 

 and I had been reading up " the conjectures of the 

 weather," and we had decided that we would start out 

 on our fishing trip on the' S8d. Why not, when the 

 "weather man" had told us that the day before we 

 would have warm rains to be followed by variable but 

 warm weather? What a deceiver ! That Monday found 

 us stowing our baggage in the carriage that met us at the 

 train while we in our overcoats wereblowing our numbed 

 fingers. Weeks before we had made this arrangement, 

 and as fishermen always tell the truth and mean all they 

 Say, we were on hand to keep our engagement with W., 

 who had been a genial companion on many a trip in days 

 gone by. Henry with bis spanking team hurried us 

 along the valley, then up the mountain. Although the 

 sun w as setting we could not resist the temptation to wet 

 our lines in the old milldam, filled with the clear cold 

 waters that hastened down from the Pocono. Here, in 

 times gone by, we had taken some beautiful trout: but 

 not a rise at this time rewarded us, and chilled with the 

 cold north wind that came down through the gorge 

 whistling a November tune, we wrapped the blankets 

 about us and hastened on. As we sat in the tavern that 

 evening the old fishermen smiled over their lager as they 

 looked around and saw our fly-rods and creels. I think 

 we were a little ashamed. Your scribe thinks he heard, 

 almost smothered in the foam of the beer, "What fools !" 

 This was particularly aggravating to him, as he felt the 

 party should have staid at home and not started out with 

 the prospect of having to cut holes in the ice. The otheis 

 tried to cheer him up by calling his attention to the pip- 

 ing of the frogs, but he insisted upon it that it was a de- 

 lusion — that the spring call of the frogs was the chirp of 

 the snowbirds as they warned us to "go quick, go 

 quick." 



The north wind blew all night and the morning sun 

 was not able to warm up the chilly air — a poor prospect 

 for fly-fishing. Up Middle Creek we went, casting into 

 every' promising pool; at noon time, only one fish. Our 

 wagon now met us and we started for the upper waters 

 of the stream. Your scribe has the habit of remember- 

 ing old acquaintances; he remembered how on a warm 

 June day ten months ago, in yonder pool, shadowed 

 then by the bright leaves of the maple that stood on its 

 bank, a lordly trout had shaken out the stinging hook 

 and bidden him "good day." Quietly now he crawls up 

 to make a more close acquaintance; he looks into the 

 stream; but the ice and the spring freshets had torn away 

 the drift wood that made so grand a hiding place, but 

 the same strong current had laid bare the network of 

 the maple roots; forty feet away the swift water eddied, 

 and there with all his' skill he gently laid his fly. Before 

 the line had straightened he saw the flash, and with a 

 quick strike fastened the fish . To its hiding place it 

 turned, but tbe springy rod held it back; through the 

 deep water it rushed to the head of the pool, so swiftly 

 that the line fairly hissed; a few minutes' fight and Iris 

 net lifted it out; what a beauty as it lay on the polished 

 wintergreen leaves! Here and there where the stream 

 ran close under the sheltering hill we made new ac- 

 quaintances but none whose company we so much prized 

 as that of our old friend. Although the sun was high we 

 unjointed our rods and started back to our quarters. So 

 slim the chance of any sport, while the weather was so 

 cold and the waters so clear, that a unanimous vote de- 

 cided us to turn our faces homeward in the morning. On 

 the way we stopped at the old milldam where W. caught 

 a nice one. We thought that he was so stiff with the 

 frost that he could not get away, but W. assured us that 

 it was a "fair catch on the fly." On Pine Rim W. and 

 Will choose to go up stream a way, while I was to start 

 at the bridge. W. soon took a rainbow trout that had 

 grown to measure Tin. in the two years since he had 

 placed 5,000 in the little spring run that emptied into the 

 stream near by. We had poor success as we fished the 

 mile and a half, almost to the mouth of the creek. 



A character often written about in fishing stories is the 

 barefooted, tanned and freckled fanner's boy; that very 

 chap I saw coming toward me as I was peering through 

 the bushes to find a place where I could put my flies. His 

 twinkling eyes seemed to be comparing my trim lance- 

 wood rod with his birch pole, and the silk waterproof line 

 with the cotton cord that the wind was whipping in the 

 air. He watched me as I cast in the riffles, and chuckled 

 as lie saw my line come back empty so often. He thought 

 to himself, "I can beat that," and 'he did! Going back to 

 the edge of the slashing, he threw in his line; it hardly 

 touched the water when he shouted, "Look'er, will yerV" 

 and a nice trout I saw dangling at the end of his cord. 

 Not only one, but four times did he do it, and that, too, 

 in the very waters I had so carefully fished. 



Bless the farmer boy ! Under his slouched hat is ten 

 times more wood lore than many of us possess. He can 

 tell you as the warm spring days come where the pheas- 

 ant is building her nest; how many eggs the quail had 

 yesterday down in the tangled weeds in the old pasture 

 lot; he cannot tell you the name, but he knows that brown 

 bird with spotted breast sitting yonder. In the deep 

 shadows of the woods it sings a sweet song that softly 

 echoes among the great trees like the tinkling of silver 

 bells, while he sits on the moss-covered rock and listens 

 until the shadows turn to darkness; down the old log 

 road he hastens home to dream of the dark woods and 

 green meadows, of the foaming waters that rush by the 

 great rocks, of the deep, quiet pool, barred over with the 

 shadows of the alders and where the trout Mde away. 

 Bless the farmer bov ! 



At the falls below W. and Will joined me. I had been 

 fishing in a pool where the tired waters seemed to rest 

 awhile before they hurried on; it was the very place for 

 the trout to lie under the shelving rocks down in the deep 

 water, but I had only taken a few and they too small to 

 go into my creel. I" was disappointed in finding these 

 small ones, for it was a pretty sure indication that no 

 large ones were there to drive" them out. W. calls out to 

 me, "I always kill a nice one there." I gave him my 

 place and stepped down into the swift water below. Soon 

 his attractive flv had lured one and after a few casts he 

 had him safely in his creel— one of the largest we had yet 

 taken. Another large one made a single rise, but in vain 

 did W. try to fasten him. I took his place; a few casts 

 and a little black-gnat lured him to his death, and we had 



the pair. A half mile below in the swift riffle at the head 

 of a little dam Will took the largest one we had yet killed; 

 under the low bending alders he unreeled his line and let 

 it float down; as soon as he checked it a gamy fellow took 

 the fly; it was a hard fight, all the advantage on the side 

 of the strong fish, but Will waited his time patiently, and 

 at last proudly showed his prize and told the story of the 

 hard fight. A little below W. was casting in the dam 

 where a number of large fish were breaking as they 

 rushed for the little dun-millers that were on the water, 

 but they paid no attention to his flies. Close beside him I 

 made a cast, drawing my leader near a dead treetop — a 

 dash, a strike, the bent rod threw back the empty line 

 and the little black-gnat, my stretcher fly, was gone. But 

 W. was soon to have his sweet revenge. Will and I 

 hurried down to the wagon that was waiting for us; un- 

 limberiug our rods and packing up, we only missed W. 

 as we were ready to start. We called loud and long, at 

 last the answer came, with it a hearty laugh and "I've 

 got him." W T . had quietly slipped back to the dam, and 

 his very first throw brought the prize — the largest of the 

 lot. 



Six miles to the railroad and one hour for the drive. 

 The shadows were crawling up the valley, the bright 

 waters of Big Creek flashed in the sunlight, golden cloud3 

 curtained the sun as he sunk behind the hills. The day 

 was done and our fishing trip ended. Spicewood. 



Centbalia, Pa. 



BASS IN THE POTOMAC. 



OHEPHERDSTOWN, West Vbginia.— Editor Forest 

 O and Stream: Two short letters of mine, published 

 by you last summer, brought to me hundreds of letters 

 from anglers from all parts of the Union, showing the 

 wide circulation of Forest and Stream. The writers 

 asked about routes to this point, accommodations, what 

 flies or bait to bring, etc. My answers brought some 

 eighty of the anglers themselves, many of whom were 

 accompanied by their families; and I have yet to hear of 

 the first one who was disappointed in his visit, although 

 several of them happened to hit muddy water and bad 

 weather. But even those who caught small strings of 

 fish, were so well treated by our people, that they have, 

 one and all, determined to return next season. Those 

 who had good sport were very enthusiastic and vowed 

 that all future vacations should be spent here. Several 

 parties of from four to six persons, from New York, 

 Philadelphia, and other distant points, returned several 

 times during the season. One gentleman from Baltimore 

 fished from here to Harper's Ferry (ten miles below), only 

 whipping the tempting stretches of water, and in nine 

 horns caught ninety-six good bass. He kept none under 

 lib., and a large majority were over Ulbs. He remained 

 at the Ferry, and for four days had splendid sport, when 

 he returned here, and fished a month, averaging twenty- 

 six bass per day, catching them mostly on the fly. 



I regret that I did not keep a record'of the fish caught 

 by all who came here, for I am sure the average would 

 compare favorably with any returns I have seen pub- 

 lished. 



I have just heard of a string of twenty-two fine bass, 

 that were caught in December, a mile or so above us, 

 with Uve minnows. We had a delightful, open winter, 

 which no doubt accounts for the fish biting so late. Our 

 home anglers made a host of new and genial friends 

 among our visitors, many of whom have decided on pur- 

 chasing building sites and erecting club houses along the 

 river's bank. 



I have no doubt that the next few years will see club 

 houses and cheap summer residences all along the river 

 front, as the land can be bought very cheaply, and 

 buildings erected at small cost by native builders, and 

 more beautiful sites could hardly be found anywhere 

 than the lofty cliffs that line our river for miles above 

 this village. These cliffs are high enough to afford mag- 

 nificent views in all directions, and with the finest of 

 black bass waters flowing at their feet, and a climate 

 perfectly free from malaria, and bracing in the hottest 

 weather, and with neither black gnats nor mosquitoes, I 

 can see no reason why my prediction should not be ful- 

 filled. There are many small farms in the market, and 

 one of these, owned by a club of, say, twenty members, 

 could be made self-supporting by securing a practical 

 farmer who would crop the land on shares, and keep the 

 house in order during the winter. 



It would be worth the while of anglers of moderate 

 means to consider this suggestion of mine, since by carry- 

 ing it out, they cotdd secure a long vacation at a mere 

 nominal cost. 



The paper pulp mill at Harper's Ferry has secured the 

 right from both Maryland and West Virginia to open a 

 "float-way" from Cumberland to their mill, down the 

 Potomac. This means a clearing out of all the fish pots 

 or traps that have been obstructing the river for years, 

 and will secure a clear run for the fish from end to end. 

 This is something we have wished for for years. 



E. D. Bowxy. 



ROCHESTER ANGLERS. 



ROCHESTER, N. Y., May 5.— Some very satisfactory 

 sport has been bad by the anglers who visited the 

 trout streams on the iine of railroads running from this 

 city. 



The lessees of the preserves on Caledonia Creek find 

 it well stocked this spring and numerous good days were 

 enjoyed along the stream. Old anglers, who have fished 

 the creek for twenty-five or thirty years, say that the 

 supply of water is diminishing very fast and that its 

 total failure is only a question of time. It is, however, a 

 good stream still, and is likely to witness many a lively 

 contest before the fountains dry up. I suppose that most 

 anglers in this State know that the Caledonia Creek 

 has its visible source in great springs that rise in the 

 town from which it derives its name, in Livingston 

 county, and after running about two miles enters another 

 stream and loses its character as a trout brook. The 

 State fish hatchery is situated on it, and there are also 

 two private preserves from which the lessees and their 

 guests take hundreds of fish every season. 



If it be not profanation to speak of such vulgar fisb as 

 perch and pickerel after mention of trout. I would say 

 that the season for them has opened around here and 

 promises to be a good one. Thousands of anglers will find 

 all the sport they want with the common fish, f "om 

 now till October. R» 



