June 19, 1890.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



436 



flowing jubilee from the warblers of bush and brake. 

 These sweet singers of nature are ever a delight, and it 

 seems to me as if there must be a soul in every song of 

 the birds, just as there is gladness in the merry notes of 

 the cricket and the happy hum of bees. As I thought of 

 all the happy years tins merry brook had run tbrough 

 deep forests and the bright meadows, I saw a little bird 

 in rainbow wings and breast of gold fly to the water's 

 edge, and with his bill sportively toy with the crystal 

 drops, and then fly to the top of a sedate alder and trill 

 a song to the vernal airs that was "the hidden soul of 

 harmony" itself. The aria ended, it rose on wings and 

 darted through the bending bushes to dispense its sweet- 

 throated roundelay in some sylvan grove near by. 



Mike, who was sitting on a log a few feet distant, was 

 not at all enthused with the attractive surroundings, but 

 was just then deeply intent on watching some interesting 

 event that was going on in the insect world. He called 

 me to his side and pointed out what so absorbed him. I 

 noticed on approaching that it was a lot of black ants, 

 that were attacking a large grasshopper and were making 

 sad havuc with him . They were bent upon the dismem- 

 berment of their prisoner; at each leg a little workwoman, 

 in a black bodice, pulled and worked with all her might; 

 the rest held the body in place. I never saw efforts more 

 fearful, and at times it looked as if the struggling victim 

 would escape, but they were tigerish and held on with a 

 death grip. It seemed, however, that he must soon suc- 

 cumb to the swarms of infuriated warriors. 



With such savage murderers, forever prowling among 

 the shadows, with the nets of the spider spread on every 

 hand, and hungry toads and snakes with their prying 

 eyes seeking out every nook and cranny, it would seem 

 that life among our singing meadows were anything but 

 a round of pleasure. "While 'for our gayer hours nature 

 has a voice of gladness and a smile,' here we look upon 

 her joyless face — an expression grim and mysterious as 

 the silent Sphinx. But to the devout listener at those 

 lips there have been revealed occasional whispers, and to 

 him who reads the book of nature as he runs it verily 

 would seem as though the mark of Cain appeared in 

 every page. Science tells us, and observation lends its 

 verity, that this wholesale slaughter, not only among the 

 insect tribes, but throughout all animated nature, is but 

 the wise ultimatum destined for the preservation of him 

 who bears 'the image of his Maker;' that these profes- 

 sional murderers are but nature's potent allies in her 

 great vital scheme of universal equilibrium— harmony 

 born of discord."' 



"In the brake how fierce 



The war of weak and strong! i' th' air what plots." 



"Not even the fluttering butterfly is safe, but is pounced 

 upon in mid air by the great sand-hornet, its wings torn 

 off in mockery, and, thus shorn of its glory, is lugged off 

 to some dark hole in the ground, and the bee returning to 

 its hive, is waylaid on the wing, its body torn open by 

 this armed mignon, whose progeny would seem to have 

 heldin perpetuity the death warrant from Queen Titania,'' 

 "The honey bags steal from the humble bees, 

 And for night tapers crop their waxen thighs." 



Mike, having a merciful soul, picked up a twig and 

 drove the attacking ants away, and then taking the 

 wounded grasshopper in hand, threw it in air, that it 

 might sail away from its numerous enemies; but it was 

 too badly wounded, and instead of going into the bushes 

 in our rear, it wheeled around and fell in the brook, 

 where with sputtering wings it went along with the cur- 

 rent. Soon there was a vigorous splash, and the grass- 

 hopper had made a banquet for some lusty trout of the 

 vermillion dye. 



"Great Scott! did you hear that?" says Mike. 



"Yes, and saw it, too." 



Directing Mike to get me a grasshopper, I joined the 

 savage wanderers of field and forest, eager to stain my 

 hands with the crimson gore of that hungry trout that 

 had dined on the helpless grasshopper. Mike soon secured 

 one, and then impaling it on my hook I gently sought 

 the bank, and measuring the distance with my eye, 

 where the poor insect was grabbed, I sent the fluttering 

 bait with a light throw to the very spot. A silvery 

 gleam, followed by a sudden splash was the result, and 

 then the bend of rod and music of whirring reel com- 

 menced. I was at once made aware that it was no baby 

 trout, and so I was alert for the victory. He tried every 

 trick he knew to escape. In his efforts he made for some 

 gnarled roots on the opposite bank, but I held him too 

 taut for the trick, and then he broke for some tangled 

 brush that intruded in the stream, but in this he also 

 failed, and had to fight the battle in a fair field. He 

 made a gallant struggle, but it was of no avail, and soon 

 the dandy of the "crimson stars and golden gleam" was 

 imprinting his symmetrical form against the meshes of 

 the net. He registered in the scales If lbs. Mike said it 

 was one of the largest ever caught so far from the mouth 

 of the brook. I felt assured it would be the prize trout 

 of the outing, though my friend had choice waters in 

 which he was pursuing his pleasures, which harbored 

 speckled beauties of a larger size. 



The grasshopper proving such a delicious tid-bit for 

 the dappled quarry I tried another, but only captured a 

 half-pounder, and then we wandered along the crystal 

 stream, which taking up its melody, sang — 



"And here and there a foamy flake 



Upon me as I travel, 

 Wi th many a silver waterbreak 



Above the golden gavel, 



"And draw them all along and flow 



To join the, brimming river, 

 For men may come and men may go, 



But I go on forever." 



The noonday sun is now beating down and sending her 

 golden shafts upon the rippling brook, its banks of ver- 

 dure, its aerial flowers, and its mosses which seem as if 

 awakening under the first caress of the glowing orb. 

 Rosy hues of inexpressible softness steal through the 

 forests, and when the open fields are reached it is as if 

 the air is filled with life and joy. The angler's reverie 

 must not allow the quarry tolie in fancied security, and 

 therefore we thread our way along this translucent 

 stream and decoy trout after trout, "that strain at a gnat 

 and then swallow a lady bug." We had just turned a 

 graceful bend in the river when Mike threw up his hands 

 in holy horror and cried out: "There's a young half- 

 breed catching trout." And, on looking, I nqtice4 on the 



bank ahead of us, perfectly immovable and with stolid 

 feature, a young half-breed of about 12 years, so intently 

 fishing that he did not observe our entree on the scene. 

 Mike strode hastily forward, and on reaching him in- 

 quired, "What are you doing here?" 

 "Fishing." ' 

 "Got any?" 

 "No." 



"You lie, you little savage." 



And then Mike commenced looking along the shore to 

 see if the boy had any concealed. Finally he heard a 

 splash by some brush, and on going there found and 

 pulled out a string of about twenty that had been hidden 

 in the drift. About two-thirds of these were under the 

 legal limit by an inch or two, and these Mike released, 

 and handing the boy the remainder told him to "git." 

 The boy did "git," knowing full well that he had violated 

 the law and was amenable to punishment, provided it 

 was meted out to boys. Mike said they seldom came 

 here, as it was too far from town; but sometimes they 

 made a raid on the stream, and then everything that i3 

 caught, no matter how small, goes into the pot. 



It is the hour now when the trout bite the least, and 

 we, therefore, very leisurely proceed, occasionally pick- 

 ing up one, and then gathering the ripened fruit from the 

 raspberry bushes, which are here in great abundance. I 

 now suggest to Mike that it would be a good plan to clean 

 what trout we have and place them amid cooling grasses 

 in the creel. Proceeding with the work, it was com- 

 pleted in a short time. A count showed that we had 

 forty-five, among which was the prize trout, two of one 

 pound each, four half-pounders, and the remainder run- 

 ning from six inches up to those of the last figure. 



We were now about a mile from the house, and this 

 distance we fished carefully, resulting in a catch of 

 twenty-five more, which completely filled the basket, and 

 which we cleaned as soon as we bad ceased from the 

 sport. We now started for the lodge, arriving there 

 about 3 o'clock, where we found Albert and Tom, who 

 had returned about the noon hour. Albert said he had had 

 enough of the stream, for he had fallen into it early in 

 the morning, and in consequence was rendered quite un- 

 comfortable the greater part of the day. He had caught 

 about thirty-five, among which were several of good size, 

 and one in particular that was but a fraction in weight 

 below my largest. 



The good mother had the meal ready in a short time 

 and then we took our places at the table. Henrietta, the 

 torment of the household, was on hand with her leafy 

 branches ready to make war upon that single fly that 

 loved the "shiny place," and which glistened so like a 

 billiard ball under an electric light. I cautioned her as I 

 sat down to let that particular fly rove to his heart's con- 

 tent on the bald area. 

 "I done go fa him if he get dar." 

 "Then I done go for you." 



Notwithstanding the warning, she did go for that 

 "shiny place" out of pure unadulterated devilment, and in 

 defiance also of Mike's threat, to feed her to the trout in 

 the big pool. She was a decided character, patterned 

 after the famed Topsy, and required about as much mis- 

 sionary training to bring her to a standard of ordinary 

 Christian civilization. 



We prepared for our departure, in order to be on time 

 to meet, at the mouth of the river, the sailboat_in which 

 we were to make onr return to Bayfield. In a few 

 minutes everything was ready for the tramp, and on bid- 

 ding good-bye to the family we set our back to the An- 

 gler's Lake, and the brook, as if in farewell, sang out: 

 "I steal by lawns and grassy plotB, 



I slide by hazel covers: 

 I move the sweet forget-me-nots 

 That grow for happy lovers. 



I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance 



Among my skimming swallows; 

 I make the netted aunbeam dance 

 Against my sandy shallows," 



We were soon by the fields and the clearing, and into 

 the deep forest. Here we had not proceeded far before I 

 heard an earnest voice cry out, "Hello!" Looking to 

 ascertain from whom it came, I espied the black face 

 with rolling eyes of the little barbarian of the lodge, mis- 

 chievously peeping from some raspberry bushes. 

 "What are you after, you little imp 



with rosy spots, flights of little wandering clouds like 

 unknown birds. Sometimes they were islands of fire — 

 volcanoes— their sides running down with lava, fantas- 

 tic kinds of vegetation— lofty palms — "enormous croco- 

 diles crawling on a sand of rubj.es, or barks with crimson 

 sails, which passed like luminous shadows in the remote- 

 ness of a dream." Then the brilliant fairy scene died 

 away, the sky and the clouds paled and took on subdued 

 peariy tints, the twilight was dying. 



"flow beautiful is night! 



A dewy freshness fills the silent air; 



No mist obscures, nor cloud, nor speck, nor stain, 



Breaks the serene of Heaven." 



From the east the broad and golden moon, "smelling 

 like an orange flower bud," arises, 



"And far around the forest and the stream, 

 Bathed in the beauty of her emerald beam." 



Twinkling stars in golden feet and lambent beauty are 

 dotting the dome of blue, while the fleecy clouds 'now 

 seem to float upon an amber sea. The highway is painted 

 in weird and fantastic shadows, the foliaged sentinels 

 wrapped in solemn glow, and only the tramp, tramp, 

 tramp of the delayed anglers, with the occasional croak 

 of the frog, the bay of some restless dog, or the hoot of 

 the soft-feathered owl alone broke the deep tranquillity. 

 The dove is cradled in the silent cypress, the glow worm 

 illumes the darkened wood, the rampant fox on rapine 

 bent sneaks along with noiseless footfall, while the whip- 

 porwill and bat, the nocturnal ramblers of the air, are 

 scouring the sandy road snappiug up the buzzing insects. 



Amid these eloquent fields of nature we at last felt the 

 toil, and footsore and weary we arrived at the little vil- 

 lage in its golden glow of moonlight, with the love of 

 "the contemplative man's recreation" as deep within as 

 ever, and with the memory of the beautiful brook that is 

 still singing: 



"I murmur under moon and stars 



In brambly wildernesses; 

 I linger by my shingly bars, 



I loiter round my cresses; 



"And out again I curve and flow. 



To join the brimming river. 

 For men may come and men may go, 



But I go on forever." 



Cincinnati. 



Alex. Starbuck. 



mp of darkness?" I 

 cried, after I had recovered from my surprise. 



"Done want see if I can keep the flies off'n your shiny 

 place." 



With this amusing response she rapidly retreated, send- 

 ing forth a hearty laugh as she ran, that aroused in 

 affright the woodland warblers from their leafy haunts. 

 We. again renew our acquaintance in this wdldwood with 

 "the children of the air." The bluebird and the robin, 

 the jay and the thrush, the oriole and the bobolink, the 

 "Linnet and meadow lark, and all the throng 

 That dwell in nests and have the gift of song," 

 were spreading their painted wings or chanting a hymn 

 of praise to attest their joy. We were soon through this 

 grove, and then a clearing came in view, and that we 

 soon passed as also another small wood, and then a brief 

 walk and we were at the mouth of the Sioux, and no sail- 

 boat near the shore or in view. It was 4 o'clock, and 

 that was the appointed hour for the beat. We concluded 

 to wait awhile, for it was ten miles to town, the road of 

 sand, and we did not relish the idea of returning to the 

 Lodge, or of an attempt looking to so much pedestrian- 

 ism. We agreed, however, to make the long walk if the 

 boat did not come, rather than see the lovely and tooth- 

 some trout decay. The immortal poet says: "How poor 

 are those who have not patience," and so we thought, 

 and therefore possessed our souls with a good stock of it, 

 and endeavored to solace ourselves under a tall elm, that 

 shadowed us with its palatial arms, in looking at the 

 white-winged gulls as they wheeled in the upper atmos- 

 phere, in watching the far-away steamers and vessels, 

 and in the cadence of the rippling waves as they gentlv 

 beat against the rocky shore. 



It was a long wait, and when 6 o'clock came we shoul- 

 dered our baskets, and with rod in hand, started off with 

 earnest hearts and nodding plumes on the long ten-mile 

 tramp. We would walk for a mile or so or until we 

 struck some little rill that was making music in the 

 bushes as it ran, and there rest and take a. cooling drink, 

 and then up and onward again. The sun was now de- 

 clining fast and the hills and valleys were bathed in gold 

 and purple, while the blue arch above had decked itself 



Lake Champlain. — Platts burgh, N. Y., June 13.— Sit- 

 ting here and watching the whitecaps roll up reminds 

 me of the trip in an Adirondack boat taken by your 

 Philadelphia correspondent. As I read his story it seemed 

 as if I were with him, especially as he spoke of the sand- 

 bar at Port Kent, where Mr. Seymour and friends of 

 Burlington, Vt., have such famous times with the geese 

 and black ducks, and then on down to the Four Brother 

 Islands, where one can get some great strings of wall- 

 eyed pike and bass; then down by Thompson's Point and 

 Long Point, the home of Albany's Rusbmore Club, who 

 would have entertained him in great style had they been 

 in camp when he was there. This is where Little Otter 

 and Lewis Creek run into the lake, making a- vast marsh, 

 which is quite a breeding place for black and woodduck. 

 The lake is very high, and pike fishing has been poor. 

 I was down to the mouth of Winooske River two days 

 ago, but no fish, where they usually get them by the 

 dozens. Some claim that the natives are seining nights, 

 and the scarcity of fish would seem to justify that sup- 

 position. — Dexter. 



Capelin Killed by Cold.— In the Report of the New- 

 foundland Fisheries Commission for 1889, Mr. Nielsen, 

 Superintendent of Fisheries, mentions the destruction of ' 

 capelin by cold. He finds that this excellent bait of the 

 cod and salmon is easily overcome by sudden changes of 

 temperature at sea. In cold springs, when the upoer 

 strata and the surface water are cooled down to 33°, 

 great numbers of capelin die as soon as they entr r the 

 cold area, while the large body of the fish, at" a depth of 

 three or four fathoms below the surface, will continue 

 lively and in good condition. Great quantities of capelin 

 are sometimes found floating about dead from this cause. 

 As soon as they enter the area of water at 32° they be- 

 come feeble, "struggle a little, turnover on their sides 

 and float up to the surface, stomach up and stone dead." 



East Haddam, Conn.— One of the best fishing grounds 

 in the vicinity for small fish, perch, roach, eels and bull- 

 heads, is what is known as Pickerel Lake, and immense 

 numbers of these fish, including also fine pickerel, are 

 taken from these waters nearly everyday. Bashau Lake, 

 the reservoir for the fifteen cotton mills located in the 

 town, is also fertile with pickerel, black bass and pan fish 

 of every kind. Pickerel Lake is an auxiliary to Bashau, 

 and the two offer to our home fishermen rare sport both 

 in summer and winter. — Kato. 



St. Albans Bay, Vermont.— The season for bass fish- 

 ing at Samson's Lakefield House, on St. Albans Bay, 

 opened well June 2, and excellent sport was afforded. 

 The average for each boat on the first day was nineteen 

 bass, weighing from l£ to 3flbs. each, and also eight wall- 

 eyed pike. _ On the third day there was a strong wind 

 and some sixty good-sized pike were the result. — E. 



Brook Trout in Pennsylvania — At Allentown, Pa., 

 the Little Lehigh and Cedar Creek are attracting favor- 

 able attention for fly-fishing, being almost entirely free 

 from bushes and well supplied with fine fish. The prox- 

 imity of the famous hatchery of the Pennsylvania Fish 

 Commission will explain the abundance of trout. 



The Duluth Herald offers a split-bamboo "pole," reel 

 and trout line to the citizen of the zenith city of the un- 

 salted seas who captures with rod and line the largest 

 brook trout this season, the weight to be sworn to. 



A Large Eel.— An eel 3ft. long and 9in. in circum- 

 ference was taken in a trap in Manchester-by-the-sea 

 recently. 



Sajjpy Hqok. reports are that kingfishing is excellent. 



