Sept. 15, 1887.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



147 



into the woods and on tbe streams during the time when 

 fish are on the move that the trout will go up the long 

 falls without trouble, but it is death for one to come 

 down. Small fish called chub or shiners are often caught 

 below the falls, but I never heard of any being caught 

 above, which would go to prove that they are not as 

 smart as the trout, and so not able to go up, and that if 

 the trout had got into the pond by some other and easier 

 way, the chub would have been there too. But it is im- 

 possible for fish to reach the pond by any other way, and 

 so we must accept the fact that they took the way that 

 nature intended. 



I have yet to learn that there is any other fish in the 

 world that can go up such small and broken streams as 

 our brook trout, and all I can learn from salmon fisher- 

 men who have been up their streams, leads me to think 

 that the sea trout will go further up the streams and over 

 higher barriers than the salmon, and that after one gets 

 up past the last salmon pool and has gone up and up, 

 there he will find our Salviofontinalis in all his glory. 



This has been written with the hope that some one 

 whose good fortune has been to go further into the woods 

 and in less frequented places than I have, would gi?e us 

 in the columns of this paper such facts in regard to the 

 ability of brook trout to climb falls as may have fallen 

 under their observation. C. D. C. 



NORTHUMBERLAND, N. H. 



ALONG THE SUSQUEHANNA. 



DUEING the days of almost unbearable heat, while 

 Sirius reigns and offices seem like furnace-heated 

 ovens, and business cares are too heavy burdens to be 

 borne, all lovers of the gen ie art are to be congratulated 

 who can leave behind, even for one brief day, all cares 

 and perplexities and go a-fishing. Such was recently my 

 happy lot, for, after days of pleasant anticipation, the 

 time at last arrives and we are off for a day afloat upon 

 our grand old Susquehanna. 



My friend Sharpe is the ideal angling companion, and 

 this is not the first outing we have enjoyed together. 

 Living very near to nature, he loves the forest and stream 

 and has a quick and appreciative eye for everything 

 found therein; and 



"Finds tonuues in trees, books in tlve running brooks, 

 Sermons in stones, and good in everything." 

 Whether afield or afloat, his enjoyment is keen and sat- 

 isfying, and ill luck or mishap never calls from him the 

 first word of complaint. 



An enjoyable ride of twelve miles bring us to the river 

 at the straggling little village of Mehoopany, and we are 

 "crossed" by the genial ferryman, ex-Fish Warden Joe 

 Briggs, who sent in his resignation because the Legisla- 

 ture refused to appropriate money to pay honest, capable 

 officers for faithful work in enforcing our fish laws. Is it 

 economy to pay members of the Legislature $10 a day to 

 enact laws that are rendered abortive by their refusing 

 the means for enforcing them? 



"Boys, you have come at just the right time; the bass 

 are biting freely," 



Joe had seen us before and guessed our errand at once. 

 With such a report our spirits rose still higher. After 

 the final preparations were completed for an early start 

 on the morrow and a pleasant evening with friends, we 

 seek our beds to dream of leaping bass and whirring 

 reels. 



With the early dawn we are astir, and not waiting for 

 breakfast we soon reach our boat. Leaders are got into 

 water, rods set up. The boat clears the beach, a few 

 strokes of the oars and we feel the current of mid stream 

 and float gently away, Past the depot with its confusion 

 of lumber piles and empty cars, past the mouth of the 

 creek that here comes roaring and tumbling over the bar 

 to mingle its colored waters with the clear river, past a 

 solitary boat at anchor containing a fisherman with a 

 very high collar and an equally high hat, on through the 

 long stretch of placid water until we pass under the wire 

 of the lower ferry and hear the roar of the rapids under 

 Maynard Hill. Crows are cawing along the water's 

 edge as they breakfast upon the shellfish the falling 

 waters have exposed. A kingfisher with jerky flight and 

 shrill note crosses our wake and alights on a dead branch 

 overlooking the water. A blue heron takes alarm at our 

 approach, flaps awkwardly into the ah - and goes off to 

 resume his wading at a safe distance. But just here my 

 observations are interrupted by an electric communica- 

 tion from below. A slight motion of the wrist fixes the 

 hook "where it will do the most good." The fight that 

 follows is sharp and decisive and my claim of ' 'first 

 blood" is allowed as the bass goes into the fish box towing 

 astern. Another "hopper" is placed on the hook and the 

 boat quickens its pace as we approach the rapids. All 

 thoughts of fish are banished for the present as we ap- 

 proach the rough roaring water and are carriel onward 

 with a speed and buoyancy that sets every nerve tingling. 

 The rapids passed, we float along under Maynard Hill, 

 where the rocks rise perpendicularly from the water to a 

 height of more than one hundred feet. The remains of 

 the old Horse Eace dam now show in front. We pass 

 through the wide break in the cribbing, turn sharp to the 

 right and anchor under the wall of the old chute — now 

 but a mass of decaying timbers, rusty spikes and dis- 

 orderly stone. The lunch basket comes to the front and 

 is voted the right thing at the right time. The crimson 

 reflection on the sky over the hills to the eastward pro- 

 claims the rising sun. Out over Co?ney Flats smokes 

 rising here and there show that the farmers are astir and 

 anxious for the welfare of the wheat not yet secure in 

 barn or stack. A train rumbles past wdth lights still burn- 

 ing, looking pale and lifeless in the morning light. 



I fall to musing over the incidents I have read and the 

 stories heard told connected with the scenes about us, but 

 I am suddenly brought back to the present by a tug at 

 the end of my line some 20ft. down in the dark waters 

 beneath. The but half eaten biscuit is overboard in an 

 instant. I strike gently and the fun begins. Something 

 worth while this time by the way the reel spins. First 

 up stream, then down he dashes; but the spring of the 

 good rod each time brings him round and back toward 

 the boat. Then again he dashes out across the current 

 that comes through the break in the dam , and I lose 7ft. 

 of line. But lancewood and oil silk prevail, and com- 

 pletely exhausted and conquered he is brought alongside 

 and lifted tenderly into the boat, where he lies with 

 quivering fins and withal a beauty. I feel a little in- 

 clined to exult over my capture, for Sharpe has not yet 

 taken a fin, but he only responds "wait;" and I said, no 



more, for I had fished with him often enough to know 

 that he was very apt to "get there" before he reeled in 

 his line at night. After an hour's fishing we arc again 

 afloat with twelve bass fanning the slatted box with their 

 broad tails. We go ashore near the mouth of the Vos- 

 burg tunnel, an improvement of which the Lehigh 

 Valley E. E. Co. may well be proud. Three-fourths of a 

 mile in length, it saves rounding the "Neck," a distance 

 of five miles. The work was talked of when the North 

 Branch canal was built, and although engineers tested 

 the rock and pronounced the undertaking feasible, it was 

 abandoned and the canal built around. Sharpe, who is 

 well acquainted with the locality, went through to within 

 200ft. of the end and returned with a pail of cold water 

 that there flows from the broken rock. 



Again we seek our boat, go dashing through some rough 

 water and glide out upon the broad expanse that s parates 

 Grist Flats on our right, and the mountains along the 

 Neck at our left. 



Your entertaining correspondent W. M. Graydon will 

 bear me out in the statement that this is one of the finest 

 of the many grand mountains to be seen from the bosom 

 of the river as it flows through Wyoming county. Rising 

 almost perpendicular many hundred feet, its massive 

 rocks and beetling crags partially hidden by the dark 

 green of pine and hemlock, interspersed with the lighter 

 shades of the deciduous trees, it stands, in its beauty and 

 grandeur, a constant source of inspiration and delight to 

 the quiet fisherman at its base or the canoeist floating on 

 the peaceful bosom of the river. Borne gently on by the 

 current, taking bass at short intervals, drinking in the 

 beauty of river and mountain and the peaceful scenes, 

 with an ever changing canopy of bright blue sky and 

 fleecy clouds above, and pervaded by the same peace and 

 quiet that broods over all, we enjoy it keenly. 



Again we hear the roar of swift water and reel in our 

 lines as we dash into Horse Race Eapids, the wildest 

 water we had yet encountered. This passed we glide out 

 upon deep, dark water under the mountain that now 

 rises on our right with an island of considerable extent at 

 the left, a part of which is under cultivation. Huge 

 boulders that have rolled from the mountain above dur- 

 ing the past ages here line the bottom of the river. Of 

 every shape and in every conceivable position, they offer 

 natural hiding places for the bass. This is our objective 

 point ; we throw over the anchor close by a huge boulder 

 that projects some two feet above the water, and begin 

 our fishing in earnest. And we have not the least reason 

 to complain of the behavior of the fish. It is never long 

 between bites, and their fighting weight is fully 16oz. to 

 the pound. 



Soon Sharpe strikes something heavy and a fighter as 

 well. Some of its impetuous dashes threaten to wreck 

 everything: but there is a cool hand on the butt and each 

 emergency as it occurs is promptly met. I get a glimpse 

 of the fish as it swirls the w T ater near the boat and pro- 

 nounce it a 41b. bass. Finally it gathers all its remaining 

 energy for a last effort, and with the butt in its face goes 

 down under one of the many rocks beneath us. The 

 sinker fastens in a cleft in the stone, and in a twinkling 

 it is free, save of the hook and leader. Considerable 

 maneuvering is necessary to loosen the sinker. This fin- 

 ally accomplished, Sharpe reels in his line, ties on another 

 leader and hook, and resumes his fishing. He says very 

 little about his loss; words won't reach the case. But 

 soon his disappointment is forgotten in the excitement of 

 a hand to fin encounter with another one, which ends dis- 

 astrously for the bass; and it beats my best one by half a 

 pound — consolation, indeed. 



The sun had now reached its highest point; we land on 

 the island, and Sharpe procures a pail of water from a 

 well at a farmhouse just across on the mainland. I brew 

 a pot of lemonade, "and we enjoy our midday meal as fish- 

 ermen are wont to do after a good morning's sport. At 

 last our appetites are satisfied, and, throwing overboard 

 numerous empty tin cans and paper sacks, we resume our 

 fishing, and the afternoon sport is as good as during the 

 morning hours. 



So absorbed are we that we fail to notice the shower 

 gathering in the west, and only give it heed as the rain in 

 its first wild burst comes dashing down the river. No 

 time to go ashore and seek shelter. Huddled close under 

 an umbrella we watch the storm sweep down the river 

 and against the mountains at the bend below. And 

 although we are made to realize that we are getting wet, 

 we accept it as a part of an angler's experience. Here 

 my attention is called to a printed notice on a box of 

 crackers in the lunch basket that is getting severely 

 pelted by the rain. "Keep in a cool, dry place." Yes, 

 Mr. Baker, we would gladly follow your instructions; only 

 furnish the place and we will go along with the crackers. 



The shower passed as quickly as it came; our clothing 

 is soon dried by the warm rays of the sun, and we 

 continue our sport until the lengthening shadows tell lis 

 it is time we were homeward bound, Sharpe removes his 

 leader and ties on a fluted spoon. I rig a ca t of flies. 

 Heading the boat up stream I take the oars and settle 

 down to a long steady pull against the current, while 

 Sharpe attends to the rods, with spoon and flies trailing 

 50ft. astern. Whenever we encounter swift water we draw 

 up the boat by means of a chain as we walk on the beach. 



After passing Horse Eace Eapids, a squall came sweep- 

 ing up the river, kicking up waves that threatened to 

 swamp our little craft; and while it lasts the bass are as 

 full of life as the water. I try to control the boat with 

 only indifferent success, while Sharpe has more than he 

 can attend to with two rods. Two bass are quickly taken 

 on the spool. Click, click, sounds the other reel. Grasp- 

 ing the butt he commences reeling in, when the two 

 remaining flies are taken by two more bass. Three bass 

 on a single leader is too much of a good thing with the 

 boat rolling and pitching and the water boiling all around. 

 A heavy lurch of the boat, the rod straightens and the 

 line comes back minus the flies. With smooth water we 

 might have saved them, but under the circumstances 

 their escape was a foregone conclusion. The squall, like 

 the shower, soon passed, and I pull steadily along, taking 

 three more small bass as we go. We often hear the re- 

 mark that it is not all of fishing to fish, I was fully con- 

 vinced ere my four-mile pull was finished; and yet it was 

 not the least of the many pleasant experiences of the day. 



In the gloaming we swing in at the landing with forty- 

 seven bass in our box. And better still, the memories of 

 the very pleasant incidents connected with their capture 

 that will long mark it as a red-letter day among our 

 angling experiences. Bon Ami. 



Auburn, Susquehanna County, Pa. 



FLOATING FLY-FISHING. 



OF late years there has been a new departure in 

 angling, and thanks to the courtesy of Mr. E. B. 

 Marston, editor of the Fishing Gazette, I have had an op- 

 portunity of learning how to fish with a dry fly. We 

 started from London Bridge about six o'clock in the eve- 

 ning, and in about thirty minutes were landed atMitcham 

 Junction, whence a short walk brought us to the river 

 Wandle, on which celebrated trout stream Mr. Marston. 

 has some private fishing. A clear and quiet brook, some 

 20ft. across, flowing gently seawards between grassy 

 banks o'ershadowed here and there with willows or tall 

 poplars such as we see in English water-colors. The 

 river somewhat resembled in its characteristics that of 

 Smithtown, Long Island; it was from 1 to 2ft. deep, the 

 surface as smooth as a sheet of glass save here and th^re 

 where the boil of a feeding trout started circling waves. 

 On such water the old style of chuck and chance way of 

 fishing with three flies would have been useless, and so 

 the new method has taken shape. 



The leader is three yards long and made of gut in- 

 finitely finer and longer than any I have seen in America. 

 One very small fly, a wonderful imitation of a natural 

 dun, is put on the end of the leader and the fisherman 

 begins to swish his line to and fro above the water, wa'k- 

 ing slowly up stream to where he sees a trout feeding. 

 Then he makes his cast, up stream, graduating his dis- 

 tance so that by holding the rod perfectly still the lure 

 shall float over the nose of the feeding fish. The angler 

 watches his fly and, when the fish makes for it, is ready 

 to strike. The evening I was on the water there were 

 ve r y few duns floating down, and I was not accustomed 

 to follow my fly in its course. We did take, however, 

 some handsome trout (Salmo fario), one of half a pound 

 and another of three-quarters; but as everything under 

 12in. goes back again to the water, we had no trout for 

 supper, but enjoyed in place thereof some sole which 

 hospitable Mr. McEae served us instead. This dry fly- 

 fishing is very pretty and fascinating, there is quite a lot 

 to it, you can and do fish it on perfectly still water, and 

 once our anglers have tried it they will regard it as a real 

 improvement on the old style. 



Mr. Marston and I also exchanged tips on heaving the 

 lead, he casting from the reel, Nottingham style. In this 

 method the guides and reel are on the under side of the 

 rod, which is slung very much as we do, but with two 

 hands. Either the right hand is held above the reel and 

 the left encircles the spool so that the run can be checked 

 with the touch of the tip of the third finger, or else the 

 left hand is above the reel and the right below it, the run 

 being controlled by a touch of the fore finger. Mr. Mars- 

 ton is the happy owner of $80 worth of an American 

 multiplier; some time ago he exhibited the same to a 

 congregation of anglers and essayed to display its merits 

 when fixed under the rod. Since then it has been a 

 cherished plaything for the baby, who enjoyed seeing the 

 wheels go round. I rigged up the minnow casting rod 

 and reel that I won in the tournament, borrowed a couple 

 of latch keys to serve as a sinker and let fly. In three 

 seconds those k^ys were roosting 20ft. from the ground 

 in a tree about 110ft. away. I wish you could have seen 

 Mr. Marston's face when he saw the way that we folks 

 cast. I rather think the baby won't have so much fun 

 with that reel in the hereafter, for Mr. Marston picked 

 the loiack of it up very quickly and intends to do a little 

 quiet practicing before he gets up another tournament. 



Graydon Johnston. 



MAINE WATERS. 



THE angling for the season is not yet all over, since 

 the reports of the past few days are rather pleasing. 

 At Moosehead Lake the fly-fishing is good. There are a 

 number of Boston sportsmen there, as have already been 

 mentioned in the Forest and Stream. To that number 

 may be added Mr. Steese, of the wool firm of Brown, 

 Steese & Clark. Mr. Steese is a long-time patron of the 

 rod and line. He has visited Moosehead in the fly-cast- 

 ing season many, many times. But he is one of those 

 conscientious sportsmen who cares for no other fishing 

 than with the fly. There is no season that suits him like 

 the early autumn, or possibly the late summer. Mr. 

 Steese will be followed this week by his business partner, 

 Mr. Clark. 



Mr. T. B. Stewart, of New York city, is just out with a 

 better record than ever, though previously he has made 

 some good scores in taking the Androscoggin trout with 

 the fly. Mr. Stewart has visited the Upper Dam, Eich- 

 ardson Lake, nearly every season for a number of years, 

 and almost always in the fly-fishiag season. He caught 

 on Aug. 31, at the Upper Dam, near the Union Water- 

 power Co.'s works, twenty-one trout. The largest, a 

 female, weighed. 8£lbs. and measured 23in. in length. 

 The next largest was a male, and weighed G^lbs. and 

 measured 22in. These are not the largest trout that 

 have ever been taken, at that point, bat they are very 

 large to be caught with the fly. These two trout were 

 shown in Appleton & Litchfield's window on Saturday. 

 They were beautiful specimens of the true brook trout, 

 and they drew a crowd of the curious. The many sports- 

 men who have met Mr. Stewart at the Upper Dam on 

 former seasons, will feel like congratulating him on his 

 good success. Two spor'.smen from Haverhill — I did not 

 learn their names— took from the same waters about the 

 s me time 501bs. each of trout, all that the law allows. 

 They brought them out. I don't know that they are in 

 the fresh fish business, but the taking of so many fish 

 and taking them to the city would indicate such an oc- 

 cupation. Trout enough for the camp table is true 

 angling; trout to send out by the 501b. box is slaughter 

 and taking and killing the sport that belongs to another. 



The autumn crowd of sportsmen to the Maine waters 

 bids fair to be large. The season has opened well in the 

 direction of fish already taken. One first cause is prob- 

 ably the high pitch of water in nearly all of the Maine 

 lakes. Again, the weather has been remarkably cool for 

 several days in those northern regions, the ground being 

 covered with frost on several mornings. The season has 

 opened well, but will the fishing hold out through Sept- 

 ember? It is to be feared not. It is hardly possible that 

 the supply can be sufficient, even under fishing no worse 

 than that mentioned above. Special. 



A Eed Snapper (Lutjanus blackfordii) was caught off 

 Long Branch, N. J., Sept. 7. This is far north for that 

 fish to be found. 



