230 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Oct. 9, 1890, 



MEMORIES OF MELISSA. 



IN your issue of Sept. 4, Mr. A. B. Goshorn talks enter- 

 tainingly of "The Pike (perch) of Lake Melissa," or, 

 to be more accurate, the pike (perch) of Buck's mill pond. 

 The subject possesses peculiar interest to me, as these pike 

 are old .friends of mine, and many a gallant light have I 

 had with them in which it would have been impossible, 

 I think, for any one to have told whether a pike or a bass 

 was the other party to the difficulty, until the test of the 

 landing-net was applied. 



In the summer of '83, I think it was, some half-dozen 

 of us, lovers of the rod, formed the "Casselton Fishing- 

 Club," purchased an acre of land from good old Father 

 Corbett on the shores of Melissa, and erected a simple 

 shanty, which we dubbed "Gamp Comfort." We nattered 

 ourselves that we had secured a retreat, "far from the 

 maddirjg crowd," where we could "loaf and refresh 

 our souls" undisturbed by the stream of summer idlers 

 that were already beginning to flow into Detroit city, 

 We were six miles from the latter place, and our friends 

 there wondered at our queer taste in going so far into 

 what many of them seemed to think a howling wilder- 

 ness. Whether we set the fashion or not, I don't know, 

 but now (I haven't been there since '88) I am told cottages 

 have sprung up to right and left of "Camp Comfort," 

 dams have been bull t, and outlets deepened between Lakes 

 Detroit, Sally and Melissa, and the whistle of the steam- 

 tug, and the laugh and chatter of the summer tourist, 

 have taken the place of the "loon's low laugh" and the 

 wood- duck's note. The charm of the place has gone, and 

 I am glad I left before it bad all vanished. Ah, well! one 

 consolation we have — though 'tis but a selfish one — we 

 had the cream of the fishing. 



Never again, I think, can two anglers, as did Langdon 

 and I in that halcyon first summer, anchor their boat on 

 the bar just at the inlet into Melissa, and catch small- 

 mouth bass so fast that it soon impelled Doc to exclaim: 

 "This is sheer slaughter!" And by mutual consent we 

 reeled up and quit, though we had been at it less than 

 half an hour. Ah, what days those were! Days when 

 Langdon. McLeod, Rutledge and myself had Lakes Sallie, 

 Melissa, Fox, Meadow, Witch and the mill ponds practi- 

 cally to ourselves, and when we were as sure to catch a 

 fine string of bass when we wanted them, as to find a 

 match in a smoker's pocket. Once in a while, indeed, 

 some adventurous spirit from Detroit wovdd boldly pene- 

 trate as far as Melissa, but such visitors were rare. We 

 were often for weeks at a time without seeing a boat on 

 the lake save our own. 



As I look over my old "Angler's Score Book" (for after 

 the first summer. Langdon and I at least, never were 

 found without that in one pocket and a pair of standard 

 scales in another), what memories it recalls! Take, for 

 instance, this entry: "Date, 6, 26, '86, Buck's Mill Ponds: 

 Fish caught, pike-perch 9, largest 4-Albs., total weight 

 221bs. Black bass (large-mouth) 5, largest 3 Jibs., total 

 141bs. Mem.: Day of the storm." That was the day 

 when I initiated Kemp into the mysteries of "planked 

 pike," close rival to planked shad, cooked under the big 

 tree which overhangs the race just below the old mill, 

 the day we climbed the hill after dinner for a drink of 

 cold water from the 80ft. well on the summit, and were 

 met by the lady of the house with two brimming bowls 

 of wild red raspberries smothered in sugar and cream, 

 and perfect strangers though we were to her, were fairly 

 forced to take a big bucketful back to the boat with us — 

 the day we got entangled in the floating islands on our 

 return home and spent weary hours therein, unable to get 

 either forward or back, until they opened as mysteriously 

 as they had closed and gave us an outlet, reaching the lake 

 just as darkness and the "big blow" of '86 closed in on us — 

 the day, or night rather, when we foolhardily attempted 

 the passage in the teeth of the gale, and were caught up 

 and whirled away into the darkness by the mighty wind, 

 only able, by the most violent exertion, barely to keep 

 our boat out of the trough of the seas, one bailing for 

 dear life, while the other felt every sinew crack as he 

 tugged at the oars, the night when a higher power than 

 man's drove that frail and staggering skiff straight 

 through that welter of yeasty foam, till in the blackness 

 of the darkness of that awful night its keel grated on the 

 shingle almost in front of our tent, and we, with just 

 strength enough left for the effort, staggered up the bank 

 and fell exhausted on our camp bed, there to lie till morn- 

 ing in our sodden clothes, and never a whit the worse for 

 it next day. 



Or take another entry, almost at random. "Date, 7, 4, 

 '85. Lake Melissa. 'Toiled all the day and caught noth- 

 ing.' " That was the day when McLeod, slipping away 

 from the hurly-burly of architectural work and building 

 contracts, joined me for a "quite, good old Fourth of 

 July fish." As I met him at the train the night before I 

 was able to tell him, "Bass biting splendidly, lots of fine 

 minnows for bait, we'll have glorious sport to-morro'w." 

 In the gray of the dawn we started for the "reef," about 

 three-quarters of a mile away, diagonally down the lake. 

 We had hardly got quarter of the way when a wool-white 

 fog settled down on us, so dense that Mac swore it choked 

 the rowlocks so that he couldn't move his oar. In two 

 minutes all sense of direction was lost. We rested on our 

 oars for the fog to lift, but it only settled down the 

 thicker. Then we started off, hoping to strike the shore 

 somewhere soon, for the lake is only a small one, only 

 two or three miles across, and we thought we could 

 surely row the boat straight enough to hit the shore 

 somewhere. But for what seemed interminable hours 

 we rowed and rowed, but came to no shore. 



"The witches have us," quoth Mac. "Hark! there's the 

 Banshee now." 



"Ha! that's Father Corbett's old Drive. He's chained 

 him up to keep him from following the boys to town, and 

 he's howling to get loose. If he'll only keep it up we'll 

 strike the shore near the cabin, and we can make a fresh 

 start." 



Keep it up he did, and we rowed, guided by the sound, 

 till we ran plump into a bed of rushes. 



"Hullo!" cried I, "what does this mean? There are no 

 rush beds on this side of the lake!" 



Pushing the boat to the shore, but a few yards distant, 

 we found ourselves at the head of the lake, three miles 

 above the cabin — by the shore that is. Following up the 

 howling, we found old Drive, sure enough. He had been 

 tied up, had broken the chain, had started off to make 

 some friendly visit, had tangled the chain in a olump of 

 bushes and was calling for help. Having released him, 

 we returned to the boat. 



"Well," said Mac, "we can follow tin 1 shore anyway 

 and get back to the cabin." 



So along the shore we crept, losing it now and then in 

 the fog, until we ran into another bed of rushes, and 

 found ourselves at the fool of the lake, having passed the 

 cabin in one of our momentary obscurations. While we 

 were objurgating our luck the fog suddenly cleared away , 

 and we again started for the "reef." But before we 

 had gone half way that dam-p fog settled down on 

 us again, and, warned by experience, we turned and 

 rowed for the shore. But luck was still against us, for 

 again the shores was non-findable. After rowing a while 

 in wrathful silence, Mac dropped the oars, vowing that he 



wouldn't row another stroke till that —fog lifted, if it 



took till Christmas. As I felt the same way, I did not 

 say him nay, and we both curled down in the bottom of 

 the boat to take a nap. When we woke, which seemed 

 to be at the same moment,, the fog was gone, the sun was 

 shining brightly, the boat was rocking idly on the water 

 within bowshot of the dock, and— it was 3 P. M. As Mac 

 had to take the 0 o'clock train, and the depot was eight 

 miles away, we made no further attempt to reach that 

 elusive "reef." 



Another record— "Meadow Lake. June 28, '87. Black 

 bass (large-mouth) 18, weight of largest Silbs., total w eight 

 56; pickerel 7, largest 8*, total weight 41. Mem.: Lang- 

 don caught 15 bass and 5 pickerel; High-hook on bass, 

 Gflbs." It rained all the morning, and the harder it rained 

 the more furiously bit the fish. The bass which 1 have 

 recorded as being caught by Langdon — a large-mouth— 

 (the fish I mean, not Langdon) was the largest of which 

 I have any positive knowledge as having been caught in 

 those waters, except one caught by Ike Wood, which 

 weighed 8flbs; but as this latter showed up a double 

 handful of shot on being dressed , there is room for sus- 

 picion. 



Here is the record of what I believe, on mature con- 

 sideration, taking into view the state of the weather, my 

 "personal equation," thegaminess and size of the fish, and 

 in short, all attendant circumstances, to have been the 

 most satisfying and idealistic day's fishing I ever had, nor 

 do I ever hope to have such another. Lightning strikes 

 but once in the same place : ' 'July 18, '87, Fox Lake. Black 

 bass (small-mouth) 21, largest 5 Jibs., total weight 591bs.: 

 bait, live minnow; weather, hazy; wind, 3.S.W.; rowed 

 by Dennis; time, 5:40 A. M. to 9:15 A. M. High-hook on 

 M. dolomieu.'' 



Here is a score, remarkable not so much for the num- 

 ber as for the pize and uniformity of the fish caught: 

 "Aug. 21, '88. Pelican Lake, bar at mouth of inlet. Black 

 bass (small-mouth) 7; weights, 4|, 4§, 5, 5, 4f, 5, 4f. Mem : 

 Brackett fished with live minnow on bar itself, 6ft. water; 

 caught 18, average weight 2^. H. P. U. cast McHarg 

 spinner, just on edge of bar. Big fish all came from deep 

 water.'' 



Finally, to "return to our mutton," of Buck's mill 

 ponds, I give the score of my last clay's fishing there. 

 "Sept. 23, 1888, black bass (small-mouth) 8; largest 2$, 

 total weight, 15flbs.; bass (large-mouth), 13: largest, 

 4-Hbs.; total, 42 J-lbs.; pike-perch, 23; largest O.J, lb?.: total, 

 7 lit®. Totai of all, 1294lbs. Mem.: Pike perch all bronze- 

 backers — all fierce fighters — many broke water like bass, 

 one three times. The 9^-pounder, only one I've ever 

 known caught in these waters over 61bs." All pike-perch 

 caught in open channel free from weeds; small-mouth 

 bass in inlet and below dam ; large-mouth at edge of float- 

 ing islands. All on frogs." 



Eh! What? "That's the score of a fish hog?" Well, it 

 does look that way, but let me plead: 



First, I had been laid up for over a month, unable to 

 touch a i-od while every one else was having glorious 

 sport. 



Secondly, the fish were hungry and would not be denied. 



Third, I had paid a cent apiece for frogs, and couldn't 

 afford to waste 'em. 



Fourth, I knew it was the last day's fishing I would 

 have there, "it might be for years, and it might be for 

 ever," and 



Fifth, I had rashly promised too many Fargo friends to 

 send them "a mess of fish," and wanted to keep my word 

 — and save my pocket book. 



If my action was a sin, I have faith to believe that it 

 met with the same treatment as Uncle Toby's oath: 



"The accusing spirit which flew up to Heaven's chan- 

 cery with it, blushed as he gave it in, and the recoi-ding 

 angel, as he wrote it down, dropped a tear upon it, and 

 blotted it out for ever." H. P. Ufford. 



Lake Charges, Louisiana. 



BASS ON THE FLY IN THE FALL. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



"Will black bass take the fly in the fall?" the question 

 referred to in Forest and Stream of the 2d inst. is one 

 that interests a good many anglers. I cannot answer for 

 October, but am able to throw some light on the Septem- 

 ber branch of the inquiry. On the 25th and 26th ult. I 

 was at the Woodmont Club house (on the Potomac River, 

 a little more than a hundred miles above Washington), 

 largely for the purpose of testing this very question, and 

 respectfully report results. Though the water was too 

 cloudy to be regarded as in good condition for fly fishing, 

 I succeeded in taking nineteen of the small mouth variety, 

 on the first named date, between 3 and 6 o'clock P. M., 

 and ten more on the succeeding day, between the same 

 horns. I may add that the thirty fish constituting the 

 catch were notably even in size, averaging about a half 

 pound each, that they were all taken in rather shallow 

 water, near the rocky or gravely banks of the river, and 

 that nearly all were taken with a large orange- colored 

 hackle. It may be added, also, for the comfort of fly- 

 fishermen, that my success both days considerably ex- 

 ceeded that of those who used bait, though one gentle- 

 man took with a minnow a much larger one than any I 

 caught. It weighed something over 41bs., while none of 

 mine exceeded a pound. K. 

 AVashington, Oct. :s. 



Pennsylvania Bass.— Towanda, Pa., Oct. 4.— So far 

 this season bass fishing in this neighborhood has been 

 very poor, owing to frequent rains and high water. Last 

 week, however, a change took place, and fishermen are 

 having rare good luck catching from twenty-five to one 

 hundred in a day from one boat, two fishermen generally 

 fishing together. Minnows seem to be the most killing 

 bait. Fi6b mostly medium size, with an occasional large 

 one.— W. F. D. 



THE G1LLAROO TROUT, 



I HAVE read with great interest the "Notes and Que- 

 ries" respecting the species and varieties of the great 

 family of the Salmonidm which have from time to time 

 appeared in the pages of Forest and Stream, and as I 

 may claim some acquaintance with those of the north of 

 England and south of Scotland, having been an assidu- 

 ous angler in those waters for over twenty years, besides 

 having assisted in several of the annual experiments in- 

 stituted by the Berwick Shipping Company relating to 

 the breeding; and growth of the Salmonidm of the Tweed, 

 I feel as if I might add a small modicum to the vast fund 

 of valuable information on this family to which Forest 

 and Stream has given such an extensive circulation. I 

 shall, on the present occasion, confine my remarks to the 

 relation of my personal acquaintance with the fish whose 

 name stands at the head of this paper. 



During my earlier piscatorial and ichthyological studies 

 I had read notices of this variety in which it was de- 

 scribed as having a gizzard like a fowl, and some dis- 

 quisitions as to whether it should be ranked as a species 

 or as a mere variety, and this excited in me a strong de- 

 sire to examine into this matter for myself. The first 

 opportunity which offered for this purpose was in 1832, 

 when paying a visit to a friend in the Perthshire High- 

 lands of Scotland. In the course of conversation my 

 friend informed me that a small lake or tarn up among 

 the hills contained a particular sort of trout which grew 

 to a large size, and would not take any kind of bait, and 

 could only be captured in September when they drew up 

 to a shallow bay for the purpose of spawning. He had 

 occasionally at that season taken up a small boat and 

 seine, with which he assured me he had taken fish up to 

 121bs. weight, and had seen others leaping which he 

 estimated at fully one-half more. I got one of the game- 

 keepers to conduct me to the spot, where I found an ex- 

 panse of dark-brown water apparently some forty or fifty 

 acres in extent, lying in a "corrie" or hollow on the side 

 of a hill some 800 to 1000ft. above the level of the sea, 

 and having no visible inlet or outlet. It being midday 

 in July and the sun shining brightly, there was nothing 

 to indicate that any living thing inhabited the dark and 

 sluggish water; but my guide assured me that if I waited 

 till sundown I would see plenty of fish leaping. 



Next day I returned to the Dim Lochan (black pond) 

 about seveu oclock P. M., when large numbers of small 

 moths, resembling our tent caterpillar moth, were flying 

 over thepool and occasionally dipping on the surface, and 

 the fish, many of which appeared of large size, were tak- 

 ing them freely . I selected from my tackle-book a pair of 

 flies as closely resembling the moth as I could find, and 

 by casting from a prominent of the shore succeeded in 

 capturing two specimens, one of 8oz. and the other 3oz, 

 weight, the larger fish keeping toward the middle of the 

 pond, far out of the reach of my cast. On examination 

 I found that they answered in most particulars the de- 

 scription I have read of the gillaroo, resembling out- 

 wardly the trout of the stream which ran at the hill some 

 300ft. below, only heavier for their length and richer in 

 color, while on dissection I found its stomach dilated and 

 its membranous walls thickened and corrugated, its con- 

 tents consisting of the comminuted shells of fresh- water 

 mollusks mixed with fragments of moths. 



My next opportunity of examining fish of this descrip- 

 tion was some ten years later, while residing at Berwick, 

 on Tweed. In discussing with a few brethren of the 

 angle the different species of fish we had severally taken, 

 I related my Highland experience, when Mr. A. N. Steele, 

 a prominent dry goods merchant of the town, stated that 

 on his brother's farm, at Branxton, there was a small 

 lough which contained fish similar to those I had de- 

 scribed, individuals of which weighing from 4 to 51bs. he 

 had occasionally captured, and invited me to accompany 

 him on a visit to the locality. As that did not suit my 

 convenience Mr. Steele went alone, and brought down 

 two specimens of the fish in question, one slightly over 

 21bs. in weight, and the other fully lilbs. 



With the assistance of my friend. Dr. John Manners, a 

 clever operating surgeon, and an ardent and accom- 

 plished angler, I made an exhaustive po.st mortem exam- 

 ination of those fish, comparing them at the same time 

 with fresh specimens of the common trout (Salmo fario) 

 of the river. We compared them closely from point to 

 point, noticing the scales, spot3, gill-covers, lines and 

 features of the head, the disposition of the teeth on the 

 jaw, tongue and vomer and the number of the rays of 

 the several fins. In all these particulars they exactly 

 agreed, and the only external differences we could find 

 were the greater richness and intensity of the colors of 

 the Branxton fish and the greater depth and thickness of 

 their bodies, and consequently greater weight in propor- 

 tion to length over the river trout. On dissection we 

 found the internal organs alike in both varieties with the 

 exception of the stomach, which in the Branxton trout 

 resembled that of my Highland specimens, only from 

 their greater age and. size, more fully developed. The 

 containing membrane was thickened and corrugated 

 until it resembled nothing so much as a piece of wet un- 

 tanned buckskin, and the contents, like those of the 

 Highland fish, consisted of broken and comminuted frag- 

 ments of mollusk shells, mingled with a few remains of 

 insects. The stomachs of the river trout, on the other 

 hand, were inclosed by a soft and delicate tissue, as hav- 

 ing had to act upon the tender and succulent food and 

 not having been exercised upon such "hard tack" as con- 

 stituted the nutriment of the gillaroo. 



Taken in connection with the peculiar features of its 

 habitat, the Branxton trout afford a remarkable instance 

 of what Herbert Spencer calls "modification by environ- 

 ment." A small spring creek, which runs down a steep 

 and narrow cleft in the side of a hill, and which is inhab- 

 ited by numerous trout, which seldom exceed 7in. in 

 length or 4oz. in weight, has at some remote period in the 

 prehistoric ages been dammed up at this point of its course 

 so as to fill up a portion of the valley and convert it into 

 one of those fluviatile lakes so common in mountain 

 streams. In the course of time the pond became filled 

 up, partly by the silt brought down from the upper part 

 of the channel and partly with the remains of the numer- 

 ous generations of mollusks which lived and died in its 

 vt aters, until it became shallow enough for the aquatic 

 plants to take possession and convert into a bog or 

 marsh. In the meantime the stream, cutting its way 

 through the obstacle which confined it, gradually 

 drained off the surface water until it became some- 

 thing like an old beaver meadow, and offered a 



