450 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[June 26, 1890. 



tartsnimt ^anrisi 



TWO AFTER TROUT. 



FIFTY years ago trouting in the streams of New Eng- 

 land 'was— But, bless us! Fifty years did I say? 

 That's a long way back. Did 1 mean to be understood as 

 saying that my memory runs back into the dimness so 

 far as that? Nay, verily, I hardly believe I did, for not 

 so many winters have sifted their snows over my crown, 

 though here and there it has begun to respond to the 

 bleaching process in an unmistabable way, I am very 

 sensitive in regard to my age, so I won't say just how 

 long it has been since first I wet my feet and line in the 

 lovely trout brooks of Vermont; but I will begin at the 

 beginning again, and say, just as though I knew all 

 about it, fifty years ago trouting in the streams of New 

 England was a perpetual delight and a joy forever as 

 long as it lasted. There were trout in those days, and 

 streams, and plenty of them, even though they were not 

 generally as large as the Nepigon or Rangeley monsters, 

 and one did not have to go into the next State or Canada 

 to get a thoroughly enjoyable day with the dashing little 

 fighters. Ah! those were the days of unalloyed bliss and 

 stone bruises, heart-thrilling anticipations and yearned- 

 for Saturday afternoons. Talk of the bliss or "love's 

 young dreaml*' Don't mention it. It isn't a circumstance. 

 A rosy flush, mingled with the odors of Araby and old 

 worm boxes, still hangs over those happy days that linger 

 in the westering sun — 



"Dear to my heart are the SGenes of my childhood." 



When I was permitted to " go a fishin' " all alone, and 

 came home with a string of trout dried stiff, and dang- 

 ling from a willow twig, the Prince who slew the Ogre 

 and recaptured his best girl was not more proud and 

 happy than I when I had thus justified the confidence re- 

 posed in me, even though I had lost that whopper in the 

 hole where the fence crossed the brook. What mattered 

 it though my line was but 3ft. long, sinkered with lead 

 twisted out of the lining of a tea chest, and tied to a pole 

 cut by the brookside. What though I knew nothing of 

 playing a fish, but jerked him incontinently as far into 

 the empyrean as my budding muscles could send him. 

 I had all the condensed happiness my cuticle could con- 

 tain, and that is all anybody can hold, though they do 

 fish with a bamabaralancewood rod and silk line and five- 

 dollar reel and sneck bend and snell and leader and 

 flask. What fishing memories are so sweet as those of 

 brook trout fishing? Go to, ye mud cat, sucker et al fisher- 

 men. Where ignorance is bliss you are welcome to it. 

 You haven't got within cannon shot of the suburbs of the 

 trout fishermen's heaven, and are filling up with an ex- 

 ceedingly poor substitute for nectar and ambrosia. 



I think of these things and many others related, every 

 spring previous to April 1, when the hens begin to shell 

 out then- fruit, carpets are taken up, the south wind blows 

 warm, the grass shows brighter green and the bluebird 

 and robin skirmishers pipe the advance of the legions 

 that soon shall occupy the land. They will no doubt have 

 many a chill and get their toes nipped as a result of their 

 eagerness, as many of the trouters do who invariably go 

 forth on April 1, whatever the weather. As for me, 

 rather than stand in a snowdrift and whip frozen streams 

 in order to tempt the fish to bump their heads, I prefer to 

 wait a few days until I can enjoy without stint a perfect 

 day along the rippling water. I would rather far utilize 

 the chilly days when the wind blows raw and the trout 

 are half benumbed, overhauling my tackle, making a list 

 of things to order which I don't need at all, and building 

 the loveliest air castles that ever were. We have all done 

 it, you know, times almost without number, and never 

 learn better. It is a provident streak in us that inures to 

 the benefit of the dealer in tackle. Some may get what 

 comfort we can out of that when the season is done and 

 we have a box of tackle to carry over. 



I had just such a streak last spring again, though I had 

 no definite idea that I should be able to go anywhere. I 

 wanted to badly enough, for years had elapsed since I 

 had had a good outing for trout, and I knew I was pining 

 away from lack of it. As the warm spring weather came 

 on, it really did begin to look as though my wishes were 

 to be realized, and I actually went so far as to make ar- 

 rangements to go down into Pennsylvania for a week; 

 but when things had got pretty nearly to a focus, circum- 

 stances over which I had no control stepped in uncere- 

 moniously and deprived me of my friend's company and 

 my dreams vanished in the never to be. I did not like 

 to give it up so, though 'twere "so near and yet so far," 

 for I had all my tackle corraled,had dug a lot of "wums" 

 (mum's the word now) and made arrangements to be 

 gone a week at least. 



I hunted up another of my acquaintances who liked to 

 wet a line in a trout stream, and after some argument 

 prevailed on him to go with me. Smith was not what 

 you would term a finished artist with the rod any more 

 than I; true, he did like to swarm off by himself and 

 enjoy lonesomeness, and I knew he wouldn't bother me to 

 death. Of course if I could have made him to order, I 

 think I would have had some kinks different, but he 

 agreed with me on most points, and I knew that he would 

 always be on hand when wanted. He would use worms 

 when flies wouldn't do, but I have done the same thing, 

 and I could not do much criticising. So we fixed it up 

 that we'd go up into Canada somewhere for a week or so 

 if we could ascertain which was just the very best place, 

 and in order to ascertain we looked up maps and wrote 

 ticket agents and referred to old Forest and Streams 

 and other papers until were tired. Then we cast off the 

 home lines and squared away for Buffalo, where we laid 

 in some more hooks which we never used, and a few flies 

 which we never needed, and a patent jointed, folding, 

 collapsing circumdicular fore and aft landing-net, and a 

 creel that was too small, and divers and sundry other 

 articles deemed indispensable. All this in smiling May, 

 about the middle. ' 



Then we interviewed the Grand Trunk ticket agent, 

 who cheerfully agreed to let ub ride to North Bay, Ont., 

 and back again for $14.75, but would deduct $3.74 if we 

 would wait untilJune 1, when he would inaugurate the 

 annual excursion business. His bid not being high enough 

 we closed with him on his first offer, and in an hour 

 were trundling along toward Suspension Bridge, whither 

 the Queen had sent a special agent to see if our valises 

 were equipped with the regulation underclothing for the 

 trip, the weather being much cooler up toward Hudson's 



Bay. This thoughtfulness arouBed our deepest gratitude, 

 and S. said that from this time forward memories of the 

 Stamp Act would be a shade less bitter. The said agent 

 aforesaid said that it would have been more in accord- 

 ance with instructions governing such proceedings if the 

 underwear had been colored red and properly stamped, 

 but as this was clearly an unintentional oversight he 

 would pass us. He toyed with our rods a moment, asked 

 how old they were, and whether they had been used, 

 said something about values, looked as over, hefted us 

 financially, concluded it was a hopeless case and left us. 

 He was a good-natured chap, and I hope to meet him on 

 the other shore again. 



Now we were off and away again, kicking up a dust 

 and putting the miles behind us until 5 o'clock P. M-, 

 when Toronto sent her suburbs out to meet us and con- 

 duct us to her busy center. We lost no time in hunting 

 up the Assistant Comissioner of Crown Lands that we 

 might procure a permit to fish for trout in the Nipissing 

 district, there being no restriction in the Dominion ex- 

 cept on trout fishing. This being very pleasantly ar- 

 ranged I bethought me after supper that I might need a 

 rubber coat, likewise some pocket scales to weigh the 

 monsters we should catch, also some flies, the like of 

 which we had not, so we set out on the search, only to 

 find to our disgust that places of business except cigar 

 stores were almost invariably closed at 6 o'clock smack. 

 Did you ever hear of the like! But after brisk trotting 

 up and down King and Queen, and Princess, and Duke, 

 and other streets we did manage to find one solitary 

 gents' furnishing store open, or partly open, that the 

 authorities had overlooked in some unaccountable man- 

 ner when they locked up the rest of the city, and here, 

 though I thought it rather queer, I found a rubber coat. 

 The proprietor said he was out of flies and scales and 

 other hardware, but he had noticed a light just now in a 

 hardware store down the street, which was perhaps yet 

 open. You see it was such an unusal thing, he had 

 noticed it. We tacked at once, carrying all sail, and 

 luckily found a man in, just about to pull out, who didn't 

 know what I meant by pocket scales. I explained, when 

 he said he had some spring scales but he couldn't sell 

 them. I looked at S., he looked at me, and we both 

 looked at the man. "For why?" said I. "Do we look too 

 scaly, or aren't you permitted to sell after dark?" He 

 hesitated a minute, and then said he'd show us what he 

 had, but was not allowed to sell them to be used, or 

 something to that effect, I didn't just comprehend what. 

 S. said to me that if they were what we wanted we'd be 

 responsible for the using. However, they were too large, 

 and being in a hurry we didn't stop to get the true in- 

 wardness of his meaning, to have the scales removed 

 from our mutual vision, as it were. But what the man 

 meant has always to this day puzzled me. Maybe he 

 suspected us of a design to purchase the only pair he had 

 and set up an opposition shop, or may be he had a corner 

 on scales and was bound to enjoy it. Perhaps he spotted 

 us for Yanks and remembered Bunker Hill, or perhaps 

 the scales were't just on the square. They were spring 

 scales and this was in May, so that was all straight. Can 

 any one enlighten me? It causes me considera ble anxiety 

 and bad dreams, and I wake up in a peck of trouble a 

 way, way off in the wilderness catching huge trout with- 

 out any scales. 



We found tobacco stores open in plenty though, and 

 having laid in a stock of solace we betook us to an office 

 where we secured lower berths in the sleeper to North 

 Bay, and in due course of time we left the city and ram- 

 bled northward into the darkness. The next morning 

 when I raised the curtain and looked out it was raining 

 gently and we were passing through a rough country, 

 wooded with spruce, pine and birch, where granite 

 boulders had been sprinkled around quite frequently. 

 Occasionally we crossed a trouty looking little stream, or 

 kept alongside for quite a space, and here and there were 

 holes where I just knew I could "pull 'em out." At Sun- 

 dridge, Stony Lake stretches away into quite a body of 

 water. Boats were out with rods outlined against the 

 water, and I was told that trout of from 1 to olbs. in 

 weight were caught. Oh! ecstacy. Wasn't that enough 

 to set the electric afflatus scampering all over a person? 

 With much difficulty I allowed myself to be carried 

 aboard the train, my arms outstretched in passionate ap- 

 peal toward that blessed hiding piace of my adorable 

 beauties, and we slid into the north again. At 8:30 we 

 slowed up at North Bay, and there off to the left was 

 Nipissing, the beautiful, stretching away until sky and 

 water met in undefinable union. Gripsack in hand and 

 rods on the trail we sought the Pacific Hotel, where we 

 got something to fill up with, which they called break- 

 fast. In the office were some superb moose, elk, deer 

 and caribou antlers. 



Then we began our quest of a t*onveyance to take us to 

 Trout Lake, four miles further into the wildernessj where 

 the pioneer, Dick Jessup, would set us afloat tipon the 

 headwaters of the Ottawa and show us where the rnasM- 

 nonge, the pike, the bass, the salmon trouty the pickerel 

 and the speckled trout were waiting our pleasure. We 

 found a horse and wagon and an old man to drive, and 

 were soon en route to our Mecca. The driver had never 

 been out to the lake, but said he could find the way. and 

 as it was but a short drive, we thought so, too. Where 

 the road wasn't sandy it was mucky, and where not 

 mucky it was stony. After the first mile or so it was in 

 the woods, and then it was corduroy and rocks and roots 

 and spring holes and mud; bang! whang! kerchuck! slide 

 off the seat, catch a fresh hold and try it again. The old 

 man was quite chipper; and when we came to a fork in 

 the road said he didn't know which to take, but we'd all 

 guess and see which came nearest. Good fortune favored 

 us, and we struck it right the first time, soon coming to 

 a little clearing at the head of the lake where was a lone 

 settler, who said we were on the right road and that 

 Dick's was a mile ahead. That put heart into us and 

 energy into the old man's whip; so that ere long we 

 pulled up at the bars in the fence inclosing Dick's clear- 

 ing, paid our driver, turned him loose and climbed the 

 hill to the cabin that overlooked the fair Trout Lake. 

 Mrs. Jessup was at home, likewise a boy who worked for 

 Dick; Jack McKenzie, the guide, had gone to North Bay, 

 and we had met him on the road unwittingly. Dick was 

 out on the lake with two gentlemen, one from North Bay 

 and the other from Toronto. 



The cabin was small and quarters for us looked dubious, 

 but Mrs. J. said two visitors were going to town as soon 

 as they got in. So we were in luck and were soon made 

 at home. Of course the first questions were about trout 



fishing, and we were a little disappointed to find that there 

 were no speckled trout in the lake, but were glad to know 

 that there were two small brooks emptying in, one and 

 three miles below. We did not wish to lose any time so a 

 lunch was put up, tackle prepared, and with the boy for 

 guide and oarsman, we took one of the several fine boats 

 and were soon pulling down the lake, pumping informa- 

 tion out of the boy concerning everything that related to 

 fishing, hereabout, until we had him dry, and he stopped 

 to get a drink. 



•' S.," said I, as I looked upon the lovely sheet of water 

 dotted with islands, and thought of the sport there was 

 in store for us: "Will you excuse me if I explode a little, 

 I can't hold in a minute longer." "Here's at you," said 

 he, "with all my heart and lungs." 



And then we ripped the welkin until the sun ahone 

 through, the wooded shores threw back the clatter and 

 the boy at the oars began to wish that he was anywhere 

 else than in a boat with t wo lunatics. 



Skirting the shore we rowed along past a little clearing 

 on the hillside where (so it seemed to me) some misguided 

 man had built a cabin and was trying to find soil enough be- 

 tween the white boulders to stick in some seed. After a 

 time we came to the mouth of the first stream, hidden by 

 thickets, on low ground. We landed and, by a short cut 

 and trail, struck the brook some way from the mouth 

 and made ready to try for trout. I had a Henshall lance- 

 wood bass rod, which, by the way, makes a very good 

 trout rod, albeit a trifle short, and ere long lifted out, for 

 the first time in many years, a speckled trout. Eeader, 

 have yoti ever been there ? Shake ! I dropped my rod, 

 took the six-inch squirmer in my hand, and looked, and 

 gazed, and gazed, and looked at his beautiful colors and 

 proportions until he had filled me full, while hosts of 

 happy memories of other trouting trips trooped to the 

 front for recognition. But I hadn't time for recollection 

 while other fish were awaiting my overtures, so at it I 

 wont, moving through the underbrush, which was too 

 utterly thick for utterance. 



After exhausting my patience and creeling a dozen or 

 so pretty fish, I called to S. that we had better try the 

 other stream, to which he was unanimously agreed, hav- 

 ing scratched his hands and face poking through brush 

 and brier until he was disgusted, We returned to the 

 boat and rested and cooled off, while the boy pulled 

 away for the next place and we ate a lunch, enjoying as 

 we rode lovely views of the beautiful lake, which 

 stretches away ten miles to the east, with numerous bays 

 and islands. Before long we ran ashore again in a little 

 bay, walked across a peninsula to another bay, and then 

 inland until we struck the stream we were in search of. 

 This was larger than the first, down which, in the spring, 

 loggers drove their winter harvest. The last drive of the 

 season was just over, and the "holes" had been pretty 

 well gouged and torn out by the logs, and many fish 

 probably had been driven down into the lake or slack 

 water near by, but in an hour's fishing we managed to 

 get enough to make, with what we already had, fifty-one 

 trout, running from 6 to Sin. With these we went to the 

 boat and rowed homeward, having spent a very enjoy- 

 able afternoon. 



Some time after we reached the cabin, and as sunset 

 drew on, a noise out on the lake, as from some one trying 

 to sing, attracted our attention, and on looking out we 

 saw a boat some distance from the shore motionless, in 

 which two of the occupants, who hardly knew whether 

 they were afloat or ashore, were endeavoring to make 

 "Auld Lang Syne" intelligible. It was for the most part 

 a lamentable and ridiculous failure. They Bpeedily gave 

 it up, and we went to the landing to see what luck they 

 had had. They tossed out one "Ion ge" of 251bs., one of 

 probably fifteen, two salmon trout of 8 or lOlbs. each, 

 handed out a basket full of empty bottles, which ac- 

 counted for the irregularity of "Auld Lang Syne," after 

 which the sweet singers tumbled ashore with consider- 

 able uncertainty, ana after their team was hitched up 

 bundled themselves into the wagon and vanished into 

 the woods, North Bay ward. We made the acquaintance 

 of Dick, had a trout supper, chatted and smoked, and 

 turned in to dream of mountain streams and jumping 

 trout. O. O. S. 



[TO be concluded next week.] 



MISS COOPER'S "RURAL HOURS." 



READING Miss Coopers "Rural Hours," too little read 

 and appreciated now, one is forcibly reminded that 

 to her were transmitted in a large degree her father's 

 love and close observation of nature and the gift Of grace- 

 ful and vivid description of its various moods. This 

 delightful outdoor book was almost the first of its kind in 

 our literature, as simple, unaffected and as truthful to the 

 phases of our rural life as was the work of White of Sel- 

 borne to that of England. 



It is a faithful record of observations made during her 

 rambles around her home at "Otsego Hall" in the years 

 1848 and 1849. Pleasantly written, her notes show not 

 only a keen interest and love for all wild country things, 

 but an acute observation of much that an ordinary ram- 

 bler would pass bv unseen. 



The lake, hills, meadows and forests contribute to her 

 pleasure and our edification, while so much of interest is 

 recorded of birds and flowers, one is fain to believe Ot- 

 sego Lake a greatly favored locality, when, more likely 

 than not, nature has impartially scattered as numerous 

 objects of beauty and interest around our own homes if 

 we only had eyes to see them. 



How many of her countrywomen would join her in a 

 "walk of several miles" over the frozen lake where "it is 

 particularly pleasant to wander at will over so broad a 

 fiela, confined to no track," accompanied by her dogs 

 who do not like "the constant succession of dull rumbling; 

 and groaning sounds" beneath their feet. The "beauti- 

 fully clear" waters of this lake, reflecting village, wooded 

 hill" and floating cloud, often appear in her landscapes. 

 Its shallower reaches, filled with a great variety of 

 aquatic plants, afford delightful study for many an hour. 

 Here is an attractive picture, "Standing on the hillside 

 within the woode, we looked down beneath an archway 

 of green branches and between noble living columns of 

 pine and hemlock upon the blue watgr& below. ' ' ' 'Several 

 boats wero- moving about gnd there was, a sparkling rip- 

 ple jn the sunshine." 



