208 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Oct. 4, 1888. 



when fishing was prevented by high winds, which were 

 unusuallv numerous during August, and the number 

 taken will average four per day. The size, as well as the 

 number of the fish, lias been remarkable. The heaviest 

 was a ol-pounder, and others weighed 40L 89, 38, 37-^, 32 

 and301bs., andsoon. a very few of those taken being under 

 151bs. To afford you ocular demonstration, so far as a 

 photograph will do so, I send herewith a representation 

 of Mr. Joseph D. Clarke of this city, and his nephew, 

 Master F. Wallbridge, with their string, which was taken 

 in a. day and a half with the troll. The largest measured 

 54in. by 24£in. and weighed 391bs. The weight of the 

 five nsh was 1381bs. 



I may add that pike are numerous and large in Mos- 

 quito Bay, that black bass are also to be had there incon- 

 siderable numbers, and that sheepshead are occasionally 

 caught. R. S. Bell. 



Belleville, Ont. 



SWORDF1SHING OFF BLOCK ISLAND. 



IT was a new experience tor your correspondent to go 

 sword fishing; to step out of his birch bark canoe and 

 walk the gang plank of this little black prppeller; to lay 

 down his bamboo rod with its silken line for the heavy har- 

 poon and its hundred fathoms of hempen rope. I am sure 

 our experiences are the more sharply cut and made to stand 

 out the more by comparison and by contrast. The pat- 

 tering of the rain upon the roof sounds pleasantly as from 

 eosy shelter by the fireplace we listen to the driving 

 storm outside; "the shadow of a great rock in a weary 

 land" is the more grateful as we look back, adown the 

 rugged path we have climbed while the hot sun beat 

 against the mountain's side; it is sad to look into the 

 beggar's face who for fifty years has sat by the wayside, 

 blind, deaf and dumb, while across the salt meadows 

 comes the merry laugh of the bathers. 



As I sat on the deck my thoughts flew far away. With 

 the swell of the ocean came the remembrance of the 

 quiet, still lakes far off in the Canada woods. Here, 

 across the billows I could see their rugged outline as it 

 seemed to cut into the blue sky and the ragged edge of 

 the hazy curtain shut out all beyond. I remembered 

 how from some tall mountain I had looked across the 

 hills that rose like waves of green, one beyond the other, 

 and had watched the clouds as they lifted themselves 

 from some great valley beyond and like white sails 

 floated quietly out of sight. The fretting tide as it 

 crawled up among the great boulders was in strong con- 

 trast with the spring that bubbled out of the white sand 

 close beside our camp, now deserted. Here, the roar of 

 the surf; there, the song of the winds in the balsam trees. 

 There, the still water reflected the white birches along 

 the shore until they looked like coral branches; here, the 

 black rocks shook their matted coats of seaweed as the 

 great waves struck them. 



''Keep a sharp look out now," was the cry that woke 

 me from my revery. We had reached the fishing ground, 

 twelve miles out at sea. All eyes were scanning the 

 water, trying to get the first sight of the black fluke or 

 fin of tho swordfish, for to the lucky one went the sword 

 if the prize were seemed. A few moments and I saw the 

 tij) of a sharp black tin cutting the crest of a wave. 

 "There he goes!" I call out. 



Henry, from his seat in the "crow's nest;," asks "where?" 

 "Might yonder! There he is!" 

 "Hard aport!" 



As the little steamer swings round, "Come on, R.," calls 

 the captain, and as he runs by me with Ms harpoon and 

 crawls out to the "pulpit*' on the bowsprit, "come on and 

 have a shot." But the rough sea that sometimes made 

 the boat dip its prow in the waves told me that a lands- 

 man had better stay where he was. Slowly the great 

 fish moves along, lik'e a water-soaked log, just beneath 

 the surface. Henry, from his lookout, by his calls to the 

 helmsman, skillfully guides the boat until the fish crosses 

 her bows: a quick, savage thrust is made, and the water 

 is red with blood. Down, down he goes, and the rope 

 runs out fathom after fathom, so swiftly that the rail 

 smokes where it crosses. Soon the last coil is reached, 

 and overboard goes the buoy. From the deck we watch 

 it as the angry fish drags it through the water. Henry 

 from his lookout sees that the game is thing out: and hur- 

 rying down he jumps into his boat and pulls for the buoy: 

 he draws it in and takes in a few feet of the fine, when 

 the) fish feels the sting of the harpoon and with new life 

 starts off. Henry holds on, and a lively race it is as the 

 strong fish drags him along. Close behind follows the 

 steamer, dashing the water from her bows as she plows 

 through the waves. A two hours' fight follows, and then 

 the ship's blocks lift him on the deck; 4001bs. he weighed. 

 As I write this story, from my office wall the great empty 

 eye sockets of the inonster look down on me, and close 

 beside them hangs the sword, nicked and scarred, per- 

 haps in some fight with a "foe that was worthy of his 

 steel." This one was the largest and hardest fighter of 

 the three we took that day. 



The little steamer's head was turned toward home, and 

 soon Block Island arose from out the sea. South Light, 

 standing on those high clay bluffs, in the dark night 

 flashed out its warning light fifteen miles across the 

 water. As we came in, from the southeast we saw a great 

 bank of fog moving toward the island; soon it reached 

 the shore and pushed itself up the cliff, burying the light- 

 house in its folds; and then we heard the grea/t fog horn 

 sounding out its warning. The wind carried the fog so 

 that but part of the island was covered; half was in the 

 bright sunshine, half was hidden by the heavy mist, until 

 it moved off toward the mainland, leaving here and there 

 trailing on the hillsides little fragments of clouds like 

 wool caught on the brambles. Soon we came to anchor 

 inside the breakwater, and as the sun went down and the 

 shadows settled on the ocean, the fleet of fishing vessels 

 ran up their lights; the rocking waves made them move 

 like fireflies on the meadows: the crescent moon hung out 

 her lamp in the eastern sky, and all was still save the 

 moaning of the sea. 



T took several strolls across this quaint land. Scattered 

 over the fields were great granite boulders; at the foot of 

 the high clay cliffs they lay where they bad rolled as the 

 storm washed the earth away and the waves little by 

 tittle had undermined their resting place. No ' ' bed rock 

 showed itself anywhere. The breakwater is built entirely 

 of stone quarried in the hills on the mainland, and is 

 brought over in vessels. No forest trees are to be seen; 



winter gales must shake all good intentions out of their 

 twisted branches and the salt winds suck up all sweetness 

 from their sap. The island is dotted here and there with 

 little fresh-water lakes, many of them 100ft. above the 

 level of the sea. From Beacon Hill they looked like pearls 

 in an emerald setting. From this point far to the south 

 I could see Montauk Light; on the main land, Watch 

 Hill and Point Judith; to the north — too hazy that morn- 

 ing to be seen — loomed up Gay's Head; to the east, the 

 great waste of water. As the western sky flashed his 

 fight aslant the water I turned homeward. On my jour- 

 ney back, thankful for all the beauties of the sky, the 

 sea, and the green fields that my eyes had feasted on ; 

 with the song of the robins and the sparrows filling my 

 ears with sweet music, I came to a poor man who "sat by 

 the wayside begging." For over fifty years he had beeii 

 blind, deaf and dumb; 1 gave him some money; his aged 

 sister touched him on the shoulder, he lifted his withered 

 hand and drew it across her face that he might know 

 who was beside him; then on his fingers she counted the 

 value of the piece I had given. He turned his sightless 

 eyes toward me, a sad tired smile came over his face, and 

 the shouts of the merry bathers on the beach came over 

 the salt meadows. So our experiences are sometimes cut 

 clear and sharp by contrast. Oh how sad to be shut up 

 alone with oneself. No answering look nor word to hear 

 nor see; with dumb tongue, not to be able to tell your 

 thanks for kindly care; walled in for life; only one barred 

 window open to the world, through which to reach out 

 and feel the face and hand and by that quickened sense 

 to know a friend is near. The weary resting, the tired 

 thoughts that try to recall the bird songs, the whispering 

 winds and the roar of the sea; try to picture the blue sky, 

 the green fields and the white sails that vanished out of 

 sight and were hushed fifty years ago; oh it is sad be- 

 yond one's knowing to be shut up alone with oneself. 



Spioewood. 



Ckntralia. 



THE CHICAGO FISH DISPLAY. 



CAHICAGO, III— Editor Forest and Stream: The most 

 J interesting part of the annual exposition, now open 

 here, is the fish exhibit, which is by no means a bad one 

 this year. In the long seines of big glass tanks there is a 

 large and small-mouthed black bass, pickerel, sunfish, 

 perch, croppies, and several varieties of small bass, to say 

 nothing of ugly gars, catfish, dogfish, and other uncleanly- 

 looking creatures, which may be of a sweet and affection- 

 ate disposition , but certainly are not very pretty to an 

 off hand observer. Some of the bass run a : i heavy as 41bs. , 

 and there isabig pike which would weigh, I should think, 

 10 or 121bs. There are also some big rainbow trout, and 

 a number of our genuine brook trout. Most of the speci- 

 mens of these captives, fetcenaturcB, are normal in mark- 

 ings and conditions, and, as the transparent tanks display 

 their every motion with perfect clearness, one has here 

 an opportunity to study game fish which he does not 

 obtain when he goes fishing. 



The bass and pickerel are mostly presented by Col. 

 Lippincott, and were taken from Fox Lake. The Colonel 

 also has a tank devoted to the exhibition of the fry and 

 small specimens of young game fish. 



It so chanced, while I was wandering about the tanks, 

 that the small fry tank, owing to some neglect or un- 

 favorable condition, was proving disastrous to its occu- 

 pants, about two-thirds of which were dead or dying. 

 No police officer or other guardian appearing, I hastily 

 gathered up a handful of the little fellows and going 

 over to the big tanks I began in a stealthy way to in- 

 dulge in an amusement which always possessed charms 

 for me — that of feeding game fish. I popped a minnow 

 in front of the big pike, but he only sneezed at it, in a 

 dull, muffled way and declined to rise. A tear trembled 

 in his soft blue eye, as he mused on the difference be- 

 tween his artificial rock grotto and the former bed of 

 lily stems where his fair haired babes were wont to 

 prattle about his knee. He had no appetite, he was so 

 lonesome. Besides, there was a tail or something or 

 other sticking out of his mouth. 



I tossed a small dark hackle minnow, with yellow ab- 

 domen, into the trout cage, but the trout viewed it with 

 a sarcastic stare which made me hasten away. 



Going up to the den of bass I flirted a fine fat minnow 

 over into the tank and gazed innocently up toward the 

 skylight as a policeman came by. When I had opportu- 

 nity to look at the tank again, there was a vacancy 

 where my offering was lain, and near by lay a green- 

 sided old bass who winked pointedly at me and asked 

 me to do it again. 



I did it again, and so did the bass. It was just as easy. 

 The bass would scull along, slow, steady, till within a 

 few inches of the bait, then with a flirt of the tail, which 

 with one motion drove him upon his prey and downward, 

 would seize it, always head first. A fish as long as my 

 finger was swallowed at one gulp. There seemed to be 

 no second effort or second thought about it. The bass 

 does not chew the cud, as does the gloomy pickerel. 



In another bass tank the big fellows ranged themselves 

 below my wares, looking at them suspiciously, but mak- 

 ing no effort to bite. All at once one unfortunate min- 

 now moved his tail, and in a flash an enterprising bass 

 engulfed him. That was the signal for the others, and 

 in a moment not a minnow remained, while the bas3 cir- 

 cled round and round in a wild search for more. 



I went over to the small fry tank and loaded up again, 

 and soon had the water boiling with the repeated rises of 

 the bass. A crowd gathered about the tank, and, seeing 

 an officer coming, I thought it well to absent myself. It 

 seemed plain, however, that the captive fish showed the 

 peculiarities which mark them in a state of nature. 

 They were suspicious of the presence of man, not eager 

 for a motionless bait, and all anxious to bite if one bit. 



Of course tilings in the Exposition are mighty fine. 

 They have a terra cotta fisherman on the edge of the big- 

 fountain lake, who is a good specimen of a fisher in the 

 terra cotta line. The trouble about him was he didn't 

 catch anything, although there were plenty of fish in the 

 lake. This seemed rather hard, so some of us made an 

 examination of his outfit for him, and found out what 

 was the matter with him. He didn't have any hook on 

 his line. "Why, of course you can't expect to catch very 

 many fish, if you haven't got any hook," said some one 

 to him. but the terra cotta man didn't let on that he 

 heard. 



had a rousing strike and hooked a big pickerel, which at 

 once had business over by the fountain. 



There never was such a fool way of playing a fish as 

 the way that terra cotta man did. "He just held on and 

 pulled, and didn't show any more judgment than a 

 wooden man, not a bit. At last the pickerel got tired of 

 it and pulled the terra cotta man square into the lake, 

 and would probably have drowned him if an officer 

 hadn't come along about then and helped him out. There 

 wasn't anybody around that saw the teira cotta man tie 

 the hook on his line. E. HoufiH. 



CHICAGO AND THE WEST. 



/~1HICAG0, 111., Sept. 28.— There is no place in the 

 \J United States which to-day is a better central point 

 for fishing regions than Chicago, and so far from her 

 prospects deteriorating, it looks well as if they would 

 bid fair to brighten under the intelligent action of the 

 authorities who have in charge the interests of the fish 

 supply. Especially noteworthy is the work of the Illi- 

 nois State Fish Commission, whose methods have attracted 

 the attention and admiration of the National Commis- 

 sion, and are apt to be fruitful of imitation elsewhere. 

 At least, it is to be hoped that such will be the case. It 

 is only a question of a little official common sense or 

 practice against scientific theory. So marked have been 

 the results from the methods of this Commission, followed 

 now. I believe, for several years, that one of our great 

 dailies, usually above mention of any sport other than 

 base ball or racing, has thought the matter quite worthy 

 of editorial comment, and thus refers to it in the course 

 of a sensible and approving editorial: 



' 'All along the valley of the Mississippi, close to the river, 

 are long, shallow lakes and sloughs. These are where 

 once was the old bed of the stream, and every spring, 

 when the bottom lands are overflowed, they are filled from 

 the Mississippi, though in later summer they may become 

 absolutely dry. Countless thousands of fishes get into 

 these shallow places in the spring, are imprisoned, and 

 perish in shoals as the waters disappear later in the season. 



"It occurred to Maj. S. C. Bartlett, an active member 

 of the commission, that it was quite as well to save fish 

 as to hatch them, and as a result the perishing fish have 

 been taken in boat loads from their prisons and trans- 

 ported to those points in the State whence have come 

 demands for them. They have been sent in large quan- 

 tities and have thrived wonderfully. Thus not only has 

 the usual work of a fish commission in the distribution of 

 fish been accomplished, but half or full grown fish have 

 been sent instead of fry, and at the same time a great 

 accidental destruction of fish has been largely averted. 



"It is pleasant to find a public commission of any sort 

 where as much intelligence and enterprise is shown in 

 the work as in the conduct of a private business, and 

 where new departures are made with profitable results. 

 Maj. Bartlett has set an example which other officials on 

 other commissions may imitate to advantage, and is 

 doing what will prove of benefit to the people of the 

 State." 



Fishing in the Thunder River country has been good 

 during the past season. A party of six Chicago men, 

 Messrs. Arrowsmith, Cribben, F. P. Taylor, Chas. Gam- 

 mon, George Nye and John Whiting, on the first day of 

 their fishing on the Thunder last August, took four hun- 

 dred and fifty trout. The Thunder River trout run small, 

 a pound and a quarter being about the largest taken by 

 this party. 



Parties from the Oconto country report plenty of sport, 

 and trout running fully up to the average weight of last 

 season in that country. 



The whitefish near Bradford, on the C. & N. W M and 

 Trout Lake, near by, have yielded fish larger than the 

 average of Wisconsin and Michigan, running from one 

 and a half to three pounds. 



Bishop Beck with, of Atlanta, Ga., has just reached 

 this city on his return from his visit to Eagle River and 

 Tomahawk Lake, where he interviewed the muscallonge 

 militant with churehly zeal. The largest muscallonge 

 that fell to the good bishop's argument weighed 181bs. 

 He has often taken larger. Bishop Beckwith visits 

 these Northern waters often, coming up from his South- 

 ern home at least once a year and sometimes twice. He 

 is an enthusiastic sportsman, and yesterday was display- 

 ing a fine ruffed grouse he had killed on the trip. Other 

 members of the party were Messrs. E. T. Watkins and 

 Jno. N. Jewett. These inform us that the bishop once 

 took on the Nipegon River, Canada, a brook trout which 

 weighed 6Ubs, 



Game Warden Wentworth, of Wisconsin, last week 

 arrested three violators of the State fish laws, Fred 

 Boyk, C. Nelson and George Crandall, who on Sept, 19 

 were found guilty of fishing with nets in Lake Buttes 

 des Morts. These men do nothing for a living except 

 illegal fishing. They appealed the case to the Circuit 

 Court, where it is hoped the rebuke administered will be 

 sufficiently severe. 



Mr. John B. Ostell, of Spalding's, who has charge of 

 the fishing line, bewails an absence of personal experience 

 with the finny citizens this summer, as he was too busy 

 helping others get ready to get off himself. There is a 

 Barmecide feast in the fine tackle department of a busy 

 house. 



The friends of Mr. John Wigels worth, of the Union 

 Stock Yards, claim for him the championship of Silver 

 Lake and Twin Lake region of Wisconsin. Mr. Wigels- 

 worth's catch of twenty-five bass in one day is thought 

 the heaviest on record at Silver Lake this summer. 



After awhile somebody or other, I don't know who, 

 around some of their homes the farmers have planted a 1 quietly tied a hook on the terra cotta man's line and 

 few fruit trees, but I saw no sign of blossom or fruit; the baited it with a great big minnow. A moment later he 



The best bass anglers hereabout declare the split-bam- 

 boo rods a failure for bait-casting, The lancewood has 

 rapidly grown in favor this summer. 



Sept. 29.— Dr. Perkey, of A. Coulter & Co., goes to 

 Silver Lake to-day for a serious time with the bass of 

 that justly esteemed water. This lake has been steadily 

 fished this summer, but has not often failed to yield 

 tribute to those that "knew how." Chicago is fortunate 

 in having so good a water in so accessible a locality. 

 Mr, Kuhns, manager of Kuhns' European Hotel,' starts 



