296 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



f ApkiL 28, 1887. 



AN OUTING IN CANADA. 



"/COMMODORE," said a friend to me in January last. 



KJ when I was in New York, "Where can I go next 

 summer for a few days' fishing? I want it to be within a 

 reasonable distance from New York: I don't feel well 

 and need a change." 



Such questions are often asked by professional men and 

 others, slaves to their daily occupa tions, who have ex- 

 hausted all the well known bitters, pills and powders in 

 hope, by such assistance, of becoming well and hearty 

 again. You will hear one of them say that he has just 

 discovered the very remedy he has long been in need of, 

 that he feels Like a new man since taking such and such 

 a drag. Later, on your meeting Mm again, you cannot 

 help i-emarking. "Why, what is the matter with you, old 

 boy? you appear all broken up; I thought that new 

 remedy had worked wonders with you, and that you 

 were getting along splendidly?" "I thought so, too, for a 

 time," he answers, "but I am now more miserable than 

 ever." You suggest an outing, fresh air, wild scenery — 

 to give up, for a short time, city life, luxuries, impure 

 air, and everything belonging to such a life, assuring him 

 that he will not feel like the same man if he does so. 

 You add: "Did you ever meet in the cars or on the boats 

 men returning from such an excursion, if so, you must 

 have found them brimful of life and vigor. They were 

 coming back from the forests and streams where they 

 had spent the most pleasant days of their lives: happi- 

 ness and health pervading their entire system. Old men 

 are boys again after such outings; and around the camp 

 fire none are more boisterous than these very old fellows 

 whose faces usually wore a worried look, and the woods 

 ring with their shouts of delight." Try it, ye city slaves! 

 It costs very much less than you spend about town, and 

 is not the free life of a sportsman jolly 1 I will tell you 

 Avhat you had better do. 



Next summer get a good-sized waterproof bag. pack it 

 with old clothes, consisting of a couple of dark flannel 

 shirts with turn-down collars of same material; an old 

 cast-off coat with as many pockets as possible, they are 

 always handy to stow away odds and ends; an easy pair 

 of old pants, never mind how worn they are below the 

 knees, for they will be tucked into the legs of what the 

 Canadians call beef inoccasin boots; a well broken-down 

 old felt hat, with a blue flannel ribbon around it to hold 

 flies, which are easily fastened to or extracted from the 

 soft and yielding texture, and a rubber coat and leggings 

 for use in case of heavy rain. This is all the clothing you 

 need to leave home with, besides your ordinary traveling 

 suit. Bring your i*eel and line and a 10-Jft. piain rod, 

 either all greenheart, or ash and hickory and lancewood, 

 with two extra tips, the tips to splice, for a rod broken at 

 the ferrule is difficult to repair in the woods, while a new 

 splice can be made with a knife anywhere. Of course, if 

 you have a fancy rod bring it. Have your rods strapped 

 on a grooved board, that each length may be protected 

 against injury in traveling. Provide yourself also with a 

 well-stocked fly-book, with some of Abbey & Imbrie's 

 standards, a landing net and few of the same firm's ex- 

 cellent leaders, and you are ready for a start. 



Before bidding good-by to your family and friends, who 

 have not the same good luck that you have to get away, 

 tell them to note the color of your eyes, complexion and 

 general appearance, and compare them with your ap- 

 pearance when you return, and then take the first train 

 for Quebec. If you leave New York at 4:30 P. M., on the 

 following day at noon you will be in this ancient capital 

 and quaint old city so entirely different from any other 

 in America. Here you can procure suitable food for your 

 party. Call upon any of our first-class grocers (some of 

 them are noted fishermen) and they will supply you with 

 all you require. See that you have plenty of good salt 

 pork and bacon, sea biscuit baked purposely for sports- 

 men, tea and coffee, preserved milk, some meal in which 

 to roll fish before frying, salt, pepper and sugar, and do 

 not forget a pot or two of orange marmalade, which is 

 capital on sea biscuit (softened in water then fried in fat). 

 Bring as few articles of luxury as you can possibly do 

 with; you will be greatly benefited in digestion, and con- 

 sequently in health by entirely setting aside such trash. 

 What you require is what the 6ailors call "hard tack," 

 but rather more softened than they get. Do not forget 

 to procure from Mr. Roderick McLeod, druggist, a phial 

 of his mosquito oil and preparation to allay the stings of 

 these pests. When you have all your traps together, you 

 will naturally say, "Where am I now to go?" as good 

 guides and canoes can be easily procured anywhere. 



The choice of the many places will be the subject for 

 discussion. Much will depend upon how long you can 

 remain away from home or business. Would you like to 

 fish for winninish or landlocked salmon? Can you spare 

 ten or fifteen days? If so, this true little salmon, ranning 

 up to 5 and Klbs. in weight, is abundant, and is the most 

 gamy fish in our waters, and will afford you all the sport 

 your heart can desire. They readily take to the fly, and 

 also the small-sized trolling spoon. If you are moving 

 about in a canoe at the foot of the rapids of the great dis- 

 charge of Lake St. John, where you must go for this fish, 

 you will often see them show their dorsal fins while look- 

 ing for insects in the froth around the eddies. Just cast 

 your fly 3 or 4ft. ahead of where you saw the fin disap- 

 pear, and nine times out of ten you will be rewarded with 

 a sudden tug at your line, and your reel will be set spin- 

 ning. Watch him well for he is a hard puller and tugs 

 desperately, but hold him tight w^ith just enough tension 

 to feel him. The fine slackens, reel in quickly, lower 

 your tips: out he shoots 4ft. into the air; off he dashes 

 again, out he leaps, down he rushes for the bottom, not 

 an instant does he stop there, up he comes again, another 

 leap and a dash for the other side of the pool ; instantly 

 back he turns, out of the water again and again, until he 

 becomes so exhausted that he can be reeled in and is 

 picked up with the landing net. Look at your fly — it is 

 all right. What fly did he take? It is an ordinary red- 

 hackle, and not injured. Two more casts and another is 

 fast. What pretty fish! They are perfect dwarf salmon 

 of the true Salmo salar type. The best season for this 

 fishing is from July 10 to Sept. 1. Try it and I will 

 guarantee you will thoroughly enjoy it and come again. 



Will trout of from i to 1, 2, or 31bs., and occasionally 

 4, 5 or Gibs, suit you? Such Salmo fontinalis we have in 

 all our lakes and rivers within two hours ride of the city, 

 and also further off. East, west, north and south, are 

 lakes innumberable, while there are several excellent 

 rivers all surrounded by grand scenery. 

 Of course all fishing is subject to vicissitudes, Some 



days fish will rise splendidly, at other times it requires 

 the most patient whipping of both stream and lake to 

 coax a trout to rise; or, during a portion of the day the 

 fishing may be very good and suddenly stop. I believe 

 our lakes and rivers possess as ravenous fish as any in the 

 world, and one is pretty sure of a fair catch if he goes 

 out at the right time, and knows how to handle a rod. 



A capital plan to fish some of our best rivers not far 

 from Quebec is to put your canoe and provisions on a 

 haycart and send your guide with the driver as far as the 

 nearest road to the river will allow them to haul it. When 

 you think they have had a sufficient start, follow them in 

 a caleche or on a buckboard until you overtake them at 

 the end of their journey. As the road usually terminates 

 at the last house or some lumbering shanty, you may 

 have to drag your canoe some distance to the river. This 

 is easily managed through Borne old pathway, and you 

 will have your two drivers to help you. Once on the 

 water you can pole or paddle up the river as far as you 

 wish to go, making a cast here and there on the way. 

 When you have decided to turn back and quietly float 

 down the stream, fish every rapid, pool and eddy you 

 come to. When you reach a small stream of cold spring 

 water emptying into the river, here on a hot day, you are 

 sure to find plenty of fish congregated, enjoying a cold 

 bath; fish it carefully. Now drop a fly into that froth 

 collected near some corner or old log. You have him and 

 a beauty. There are more, try again and again; at every 

 cast a fish rises. Do you see that alder or willow, bent 

 over toward the pool; reel in some of your line; now it 

 is just long enough, try and cast your line well in under 

 the bush; take care not to touch the branches. All right; 

 capitally done! You may be sure there is a big fellow 

 lurking there, well in the shade, ready to seize any poor 

 insect which may fall from the branches or fly down for 

 a dip in the cool water. Try again. Take care not to 

 hook that limb. All right. Now bring your fly over 

 that old log you see lying on the bottom! Well done, 

 old boy; you have him! Be careful or he may carry your 

 line around that projecting limb. That is right. * He is 

 now in clear water. How he struggles! Reel him in. 

 Take care not to give him any slack of the line or he 

 may make a sudden dash and part your leader. He is 

 safe now. Bring him to the surface and let us look at 

 him. There he is! See how broad his back is! Now 

 work him this way and I will sink the landing net; bring 

 him over it; I have him. And there he lies in the bottom 

 of the canoe, a beauty of 41bs. weight — and so this often 

 turns out to be. 



Just look at that city man! Who would fancy Mm the 

 same New Yorker! Did you ever see more health and 

 happiness depicted in a countenance than that which 

 shines in his? See that manly chest and tliroat laid bare 

 to the balmy breeze— no choking, stiff, fashionable collar 

 and starched shirt front, nor stiff linen cuffs, but every 

 limb and muscle free. Ask him the simple question, 

 "How do you feel now, old boy?" He turns upon you his 

 bright clear eyes and smiling face beaming with 'happi- 

 ness, and answers: "Feel, did you ask? why, I feel glori- 

 ous, and oh, so hungry! Commodore, have I had any- 

 thing to eat since last week?" "Yes," answers his com- 

 panion, "youhad a hearty breakfast notthree hours ago." 

 "I can't believe it," he says, "I am ravenous." 



"Hallo, there, Baptiste! Allons d terre preparer le 

 manger, ou creve defaim;" and the angler claps his hand 

 over his stomach and tries to make Baptiste understand 

 that it is a vast empty cavern. The good-natured guide 

 lx>stirs himself, and while making the fire quietly says: 

 " Monsieur a toujoui'sfaim." 



The kettle is boiling, and another fire is made upon 

 which Baptiste places the frying-pan well covered with 

 slices of nice white pork that soon begin to fizz. Mean- 

 while the cook is at the river side cleaning and preparing 

 slices of trout, which, after being rolled in meal, are to 

 be fried in the boiling hot fat. Oh, just smell that! Did 

 ever anything so savory hover around you! Now the 

 pork, cisp and delicious, is removed from the pan, and 

 the hot fat is bubbling up ready to receive the soft tea 

 biscuit which has been, for some time, soaking in water. 

 Baptiste carefully drops it, piece by piece, into the boil- 

 ing fat, where it remains until browned, and then takes 

 it out and puts it on a plate; a slight coating of marma- 

 lade covers it. The guide brushes off the top of a large 

 flat rock which serves for a table. Baptiste whispers, 

 "Regardez done, Monsieur?' You turn round to find your 

 friend with his pocket knife whitthng a stick to a point; 

 he quietly steps up to the dish and harpoons a large piece 

 of fried fish, gives a yell and disappears behind a tree 

 where he is found devouring the prize. "I couldn't help 

 it, old fellow," he cries, "I never was so hungry in all my 

 life, and I had to steal or die, and never did I taste any- 

 thing half so good." Yet it was scarcely more than 

 three hours since he had eaten a breakfast consisting of 

 as much food as would have satisfied a small family. 

 You are soon seated on stones rolled up for the occasion 

 close to the rocky table, and set to with a will. 



After a hearty meal, with a cup of delicious tea black 

 as ink, you leave the table, fill your pipes, find a shady 

 nook where Baptiste has arranged some balsam boughs, 

 and lie down to rest. 



The first words your New York friend will say, "Oh, 

 how I wish my w r ife and children could see me now, or 

 that they were here to enjoy this! Is it not glorious? I 

 feel like a new man! This is real enjoyment of life! I 

 would not change this hour for that being sroent by the 

 richest man in New York city. How I would like to feel 

 in body and mind as I do now when I get back to the 

 city!" 



Such are the feelings one enjoys on an outing; and 

 when one returns home, those who noticed the sallow 

 complexion and fatigued appearance a few days before 

 will ask, "Why, where have you come from? You look 

 full of health and strength; your trip has done you ever 

 so much good; you must have had a capital time." The 

 answer is, "I should say I had, and now know where to 

 rush to when fagged out with work." And so can any 

 man enjoy the same happiness if he will make up his 

 mind to take an occasional outing. I do not mean going 

 to some fashionable watering place, or other locality 

 where there is a swell hotel filled with people who must 

 have the richest food and wine at every meal, and where 

 men spend their nights at the card table and the ladies in 

 stifling ball rooms, but I mean the real outdoor life, sleep- 

 ing under a tent on a bed of fragrant balsam boughs, 

 wearing loose old clothes, breathing pure, balmy air, and 

 living on plain, wholaesome food. 



You will naturally ask, When should one undertake 



such a trip? I answer, come to Quebec anytime between 

 the months of June and October, for fishing, and remain 

 or come later on if you want shooting. You will find 

 plenty of sportsmen ready and happy to give you their 

 advice and direct you where to go. Bring on your fami- 

 lies. Our hotels are not of the most stylish, but the food 

 is excellent, and there are several good boarding houses, 

 where for a moderate price home comforts may be had; 

 and if you choose to live a time in some of the country 

 villages, you will find the people honest, obliging and 

 very interesting, and the charges so moderate as to be 

 hardly believed. Our new railroad to Lake St. John's 

 has opened out a country abounding in lakes and rivers 

 and teeming with trout. 



Although our American cousins are not allowed to fish 

 inside of certain limits in oiu- salt waters, they will find 

 us most happy to see them and assist them to enjoy the 

 sport in our fresh waters, and none more so than the 

 writer. J. TJ. Gregory. 



Quebec, Canada* 



THE KIND OF A CHAP HE WAS. 



IT has been a pleasure to me for some years to read the 

 Forest and Stream, and I have, while sitting at 

 ease, followed your many contributors, in mind and spirit 

 at least, all over our own continent and in foreign lands. 

 I enjoy all sporting anecdotes, and especially those de- 

 scriptive of shooting and fishing excursions. Having 

 walked many, many miles and spent many pleasurable 

 days with rod and gun, I think I may, with propriety, 

 claim to be an "ardent sportsman" in the general sense 

 implied by that term. But there are sportsmen and 

 others. The Forest and Stream tells us all about game 

 of all kinds, where it is found, how it is killed or taken, 

 its haunts and habits — in fact all about everything, it 

 seems to me, that can be comprehended in its field of ac- 

 tion, except, perhaps, the sportsman himself. Of course 

 much is said of sportsmen, too, and much more can be 

 gleaned from the sportsmen themselves, your contrib- 

 utors, from which we learn something of their general 

 characteristics and natures. There are, however, 6o 

 many varieties of this animal, that it seems to me that a 

 great deal more could be said and written concerning 

 him than is, and I am stu-e it would be hard to select a 

 more interesting subject or fruitful field for discussion. 



I sometimes think that after all we only get one side 

 of the stories of forest and stream, and wish we could 

 occasionally hear from Bob White, Br'r Rabbit, The Buck 

 and the Big Trout, and get their version of affairs. As 

 we cannot hear from these worthy gentlemen, however, 

 we must make due allowance for human nature in gen- 

 eral, and remember that in all probability much remains 

 unwritten and unsaid. 



Perhaps I am becoming somewhat too sentimental, but 

 of late I have enjoyed those hunting and fishing yarns 

 the most which have been the least successful. Somehow 

 I feel a thrill of joy when quail do not lie well, when the 

 trout do not rise and when the big buck escapes. A story 

 of empty creels and gamebags gives me the most enjoy- 

 ment. Perhaps these sentiments have been created by 

 recalling to mind my own personal experiences and by 

 having seen many kinds of sportsmen and varieties of 

 sportsmanship. 



Perhaps they come from my having seen the last poor 

 stragglers of many coveys hunted out of existence com- 

 pletely in localities I might name; perhaps, because I 

 have seen a few scattered waterfowl, flying wildly over 

 the accustomed haunts of thousands, looking in vain for 

 a place to alight and feed in peace and finding no sanctu- 

 ary; or because the last gray squirrel has disappeared 

 from a wood, leaving his little store of nuts and acorns 

 undisturbed and untasted save by mice or woodpeckers; 

 or, it may be, because I have seen the last persecuted deer 

 of a county limp off to die in his vacant hills, The de- 

 structive gun and the death-dealing rifle, in hands too 

 eager and expert, to say the least, have been indeed 

 deadly. Sometimes I could feel content to have my guns 

 stand in their corners and rust, empty and undisturbed; 

 when visiting a trout stream, once swarming with its 

 gamy tribe, to see only a tiny finger ling come to the sur- 

 face, and then dart away with instinctive dread — I could 

 snap my rod, almost condemn the shade of immortal Ike 

 himself and all his tribe, myself included. 



One is inclined to think sometimes that anglers and 

 sportsmen are rather a bad lot anyway. But, after all, I 

 knew one once, and believe there are ideal sportsmen ex- 

 tant; may they never, like the American buffalo, become 

 extinct. 



He was a singular chap. I knew him to hunt indus- 

 triously for a week, kill nothing and then say he had en- 

 joyed himself. The next day he had a splendid chance 

 at a buck, but his gun snapped, and upon examining it 

 he found that it had been unloaded all the time; he was 

 a man who had kdled deer in many countries, too. In 

 this instance, although he did not kill the big buck,|he 

 saw him and appreciated even that as something. He 

 ascertained where the buck fed, what he ate, where he 

 watered; knew his age and the exact measurement of 

 his longest leaps. He even noticed that a tine was broken 

 from one of the deer's antlers, and remained quietly con- 

 jecturing the cause of this, when he might have followed 

 and killed the splendid animal. He was a queer speci- 

 men sportsman, indeed. He owned a prize bird dog, but 

 he kept that valuable animal so fat and lazy that the dog 

 didn't care much whether he found all the birds for his 

 master to shoot or not; when he did find them, and they 

 were well put up and all, his master did remarkably bad 

 shooting somehow — for most of them whirred away with 

 every feather intact; yet he was the best and quickest 

 shot in the State. O, he was an odd fish. He often al- 

 lowed the last few birds of a brood to escape, even when 

 he had them marked down and could have bagged them 

 as well as not. 



Sometimes he watched a rabbit break for cover and 

 reach it in safety, when he might have stayed its fran- 

 tic little leaps forever. He could see a deer, even a big 

 buck — horns and all — and yet refrain from shooting it 

 out of season. I never could teach him to carry his gun 

 cocked all the time and thus be prepared to kill or wound 

 any living thing that appeared in range. He was very 

 headstrong in this respect, and he would always observe 

 game laws when he could have violated them to advan- 

 tage and escaped the penalties easily. He was a case. 

 He was forever prowling around flushing game and qoolly 

 watching it get away alive and uninjured instead of at- 

 tending strictly to business, killing it, or at least "getting 



