474 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[July 3, 1891. 



ON THE NORTH SHORE.-IX. 



IContinued from Page 4-55.] 



NED'S lament over his loss was tnily_ touching, lan- 

 guage being too feeble to express it. He said he 

 never was so sure of a fish before; in fact, had counted 

 him as if he had been in the boat, and was flattering 

 himself that it would be the prize trout of the trip. 

 "Don't count your fish until you have caught them" — 

 'Tor if you do you're reoiioning false. 

 Your calculation's out; 

 Within the boat you'll stand quite blank. 

 Outwitted by a trout." 



"That's cruel, but deserved, for I now believe I made 

 an awkward mistake by allowing him to get his second 

 wind, instead of making him stand up and fight." 



I agreed with Ned in this view, believing that it is 

 always the proper tactics to make a fish fight, and not 

 allow him to recover strength or composm-e by a rest. 



We continued aiternatoly fishing and resting that pool, 

 until we had caught thirteen trout that ran from 3 to 

 41bs. It looked like a bloody slaughter of the tinted in- 

 nocents, and had we only ourselves to provide for it 

 might be so considered, but Ned being desirous of sending 

 his family at the "Soo" a mess of these toothsome beau- 

 ties, it was simply a delight that seldom faUs to the dis- 

 ciple of the gentle art. Wicked waste we never tolerated, 

 for time and agaia had we reeled up and ceased our sport 

 ■when we might have quadmpled our catch. 



We took our lunch on the sandy beach near the mouth 

 of the sinuous river, and under some bright maples that 

 were casting a grateful shade, and where - a magnificent 

 landscape of wild, entrancing beauty met the eye at every 

 turn. Leech Island and the Lizard loomed up just south 

 of us, with their foliaged tops in crimson ; the towering 

 mountains of granite that range toward Gargantua were 

 regal in balsam, fir and spruce; the murmuring river 

 gently flowed along its grassy banks o'er bed of shining 

 sands; the great wreaths of snowy clouds lazily floated in 

 the blue vault, while the lights and shadows develop on 

 the high hills and in the valleys as the sun rises and 

 courses to the west. It is here, as elsewhere, that one 

 must have the great mental qualities of a good observa- 

 tion and lively imagination to enjoy such pictures as this 

 rugged coast presents. Then the perspective of these 

 mountainous ranges, the solitude of the deep forests and 

 the calm and tumult of the great lake grow upon you, 

 until you fully realize: 



"Masses of crimaon glory, 

 Pale lakes of blue, studded with fiery islands. 

 Bright golden bars, cold peaks of slaty rock. 

 Mountains of fused amethyst and copper, 

 Fierce flaming eyes, with black o'erhanging brows. 

 Light floating curls of brown or golden hair. 

 And rosy flushes, like warm dreams.of love." 

 After we enjoyed an hour or two in luxurious idleness 

 and lunch Ned, proposed that we attack the pool once 

 more, as he thought there was still a chance of again 

 deceiving that freckled monster with another of his lurid 

 flies. Making no objection, we took to the boat under a 

 burning sim and again ascended the stream to the quiet 

 pool. On arriving we both strove hard for a rise, but it 

 failed to materialize. Finally we bade adieu to the pool 

 and went up to the ripples to give Joe a chance to try 

 some of the falls about a quarter of a mile above. The 

 road was through a tangle of trees, and we wanted none 

 of it, but would await the boys' return. The crashing 

 we heard them making through the dark forest, as they 

 pushed on, satisfied us that their road was everything but 

 rosy. 



In about an hour they returned, bringing six puny 

 trout about Gin. long, which we regretted had not been 

 returned to the stream when alive. Joe said there were 

 plenty of that kind at the falls, but the flies which he 

 nsed were too large for such tender infants of the brook. 

 Not being after such Lilipubians, we again turn the boat 

 down stream, and when reaching the pool gave it our 

 last trial, but not a ripple broke the smooth surface. Ned 

 was of the opinion that the pool had been entirely de- 

 pleted of all but his escaped trout, and he probably had 

 retired to the great lake to nurse his wounded jaw. 



We found a very quiet lake and an exceedingly hot 

 sun as we coasted along. I did not attempt a single cast 

 en route, having had a sm-feit of it at the pool, and Ned 

 was inclined the same way, leaving Joe to weary himself 

 with his futile whipping of the waters. 



I was much interested in the formation of the rock 

 along the shore and in the water. There w^ere many 

 rounded forms of granite, gneiss and other igneous rocks, 

 massive and grand, like mighty boulders welded to- 

 gether. Several places the lake disclosed the igneous 

 rock, with the quartz veins of a few inches that ran in 

 squares and angles, making the entire mass, in conse- 

 quence of the two distinct colors prevailing, like a tessel- 

 lated floor. When the water quivered from the oars or 

 any gentle breeze, your imagination, if a lively one, 

 could picture colossal castles and panoplied knights, 

 battlements and arches, giants and dwarfs, forests and 

 flowers, groves and grottoes and the like, ad infinitum . 



It was a hot trip to camp, and more than once I bathed 

 my aching temples with the cool water. Not a ripple or 

 leaf stu-red. It was a dead calm, and the lake a looking- 

 glass. Joe, who had been industriously casting, yielded 

 to old Sol's influence with the remark: 



"It's too hot and quiet for trout." 



I was glad when we reached camp and the shade, for 

 the glancing rays of the sinking sun burnt us so severely 

 that the skin peeled from our faces a day or two after. 



The next morning we sent the boys with the trout to 

 the Lizard Island, with instructions to pack them well in 

 ice, and ship on the tug to the Soo— they being directed 

 by card to Ned's family there — and return at once. They 

 managed, Indian-like, to idle the entire time away, not 

 showing up till noon. 



In the afternoon we went to Sand Eiver, some four 

 miles distant, and fished all the way without obtaining a 

 single rise. The weather militated against us, it being 

 warm and breezeless, and consequently not a quiver on 

 the lalie. With this condition it is simply an accident if 

 you secure a trout. 



On ascending the river we were agi-eeably surprised at 

 its picturesque enchantments. It cgm^s ivom the hard 



rocks of lofty hills, flavored with the cold breath of those 

 higher regions, leaping and tumbling in rills and cas- 

 cades that go joyously through sloping forests, from ter- 

 race to terrace, until it expands and becomes a torrent of 

 no small proportions that composes itself wdth a quiet 

 murmur ere it dimples the lake. In the aggregate. Sand 

 Eiver is a poem in foam and rimple, rock and foliage, 

 and is assuredly in harmony with Tennyson's idyllic 

 bi-ook that sings its way adown the vale, "in little 

 sharps and trebles." Here the 



"Cultured slopes. 

 Wild tracts of forest ground, and scattered groves, 

 And mountains bare, or clothed with ancient woods, 

 Surrounded us; and, as we held our way 

 Along the level of the glassy flood, 

 They ceased not to surround us; change of place, 

 Producing change of beauty ever new. 

 Ah! that such beauty, varying in the light 

 Of loving nature, cannot be portrayed 

 By words, nor by the pencil's silent skill; 

 But is the property of him alone 

 Who hath beheld it, noted it with care. 

 And in his mind recorded it with love!" 



We made a few casts at the first falls a short distance 

 from the mouth of the river, and had a rise or two from 

 some of the infantile trout with which we failed to con- 

 nect. Satisfied with our experience and amply repaid by 

 the imposing beauty of the foaming river, we tm-ned to 

 camp, hoping that the waning evening which was now 

 displaying a thunder cloud in the west, might reward our 

 efforts with a trout or two. 



Coming to some declivitous rocks, we went ashore, and 

 ascending them tried hard to lure some of the dainty 

 tribe that reposed in the creviced depths below. It was 

 a flat failure, not a response being obtained. Once more 

 we depart, and j ust as we reached some magnificent waters 

 ahead, I received a feeble rise and was compensated with 

 a trout of about a pound. This was all the attractive 

 place would yield. Again we go ashore, and this time 

 Joe, who was using Ned's rod, struck a trout, which he 

 killed like an artist, that weighed fully 5lbs. In speak- 

 ing of the capture the half-breed said: 



"I send flies way out— big fellow make water — miss 'em 

 — me wait while and den me see 'im by rock. Me stoop down 

 so he no see me,, then me throw files ober 'im. He take 

 it — wait a bit— den me pull, and then away he go. 

 Me let 'im go far as he want. Den me reel up, and by j ingo 

 he cut de water worse dan ebber. Den me pull 'im in and 

 he go again. Me tink neber tire fish. Me try once more 

 and den I git 'im. Heap fun me had with 'im." 



Joe gloated over him, for he had as much pride in an ex- 

 ploit of that kind as we had, and always looked at them 

 with admiring eyes. 



I am evidently in the consomme, as my favorite flies re- 

 mained unnoticed. I soon tire of the weather-beaten and 

 moss-covered rocks, and request another move. Along 

 we go, Joe casting from the bow and I from the stern, and 

 a moment before we reached camp I struck a 2-pounder 

 and secured him, and Joe immediately after captured one 

 about the same size. This concluded the sport of the 

 day, for not another of the vermilion dye rose to inves- 

 tigate our tinsel and feathery deceits. 



The thunder cloud which we noticed in the early part 

 of the afternoon had assumed a threatening appearance 

 which indicated rain soon. The air was now stormy with 

 a southwest wind; mists were hurrying in grea,t armies; 

 a blaze of quivering light comes down upon the face of 

 the mountains and o'er the waters; while the deep blue 

 shadows cast from the wind- tossed clouds are beautiful 

 beyond compare. Along the stupendous cliffs the thun- 

 der rolls, 



"While freighted echoes, in the gorges round, 

 Waked for a moment, calling each to each 

 With fainter voices, sink again to sleep." 



The drops begin to patter, and then a retreat to the 

 tent is made, where our supper is served. After Ned had 

 sung a song or two and enjoyed a pipe of tobacco, we 

 sought the comforts of the bed, where we soon fell into 

 deep and restful sleep. 



The rain had steadily fallen during the night and was 

 tinkling away in the morning when we arose. It was 

 evident we were to be confined to camp that day, for 

 there was not a sign of blue to be seen, nor a ray of hope 

 upon which to base a foundation for bright sliies. We 

 took our breakfast in tent, and as cup after cup of the 

 invigorating beverage disappeared with the toothsome 

 dishes, we philosophized on the unpropitious weather 

 which was the rule and not the exception since we had 

 been in camp. Under such distressing conditions home 

 was talked of, and a programme made out for our return. 

 Our boatmen, after they had satisfied their rapacious 

 maws and cleaned and put away the breakfast dishes, took 

 to their tents and their blankets, and there remained till 

 it was time to prepare the noon meal. 



We had our usual rubber of crib, and then sought the 

 pages of fascinating fiction. Ned had finished his "Lorna 

 Doone," and was now absorbed in a sea novel, the scene 

 of which was laid in the frozen ocean, and develoi^ed the 

 resuscitation of a bloody pirate after having been frozen 

 over forty years. He thought it a highly absurd story, 

 but when I gave him the tangible evidence of a scientist 

 relative to the suspended animation of a frog entombed 

 in a flinty rock for a thousand years or more, he then 

 thought the forty years of the frozen slumberer a mere 

 bagatelle, and continued the work with additional inter- 

 est. I had also taken to a new work, being another of 

 Balzac's, entitled "La Cousine Bette." I must confess a 

 revolting feeling took possession of me as I waded through 

 its repulsive though fascinating pages. 



We made numerous studies of the horizon that morn- 

 ing in hopes of seeing a patch of blue or lighter clouds, 

 but the prospects gave no indications of better weather 

 soon, so we bade adieu to fronting for that day and 

 possessed om- souls with gentle patience. Ned tiring of 

 his frozen pirate, left him to his slumber, and by way of 

 relief got his little bags of tackle and toyed with them quite 

 a while, much to my infinite amusement. That morning 

 he had a row with Joe because he neglected -to make 

 some hot cakes, which were a standard breakfast dish 

 with us. 



Joe w-inced under the severe castigation, and was sxdky 

 the entire day, and no doubt only waited an opportunity 

 to balance accounts with the fiery Ned. We had the 

 arsenal, however, and stood ready to quench any incipi- 

 ent revolution he might organize. The day, however. 



wore away without the red flag being unfurled, and 

 gentle peace once more spread her wings o'er camp and 

 court. 



After dinner John came running in from the woods 

 with a rabbit in hand, being one he had caught in a 

 snare set the day before. It looked as if it was half- 

 starved, so emaciated did it appear. We concluded after 

 viewing its faded symmetry that we were not a bit fond 

 of rabbit, and the boys had arrived at about the same 

 conclusion, for they never as much as mentioned it, and 

 we never ascertained what became of poor bunny. It 

 probably was served as a midnight lunch for the raven- 

 ous twain, who were ever hungry. Alex. Starbuck. 



IN JUNE. 



"June, dear June, now God be praised for June." 



IT has always seemed to me that those fair lines must 

 have come from a true angler, and that, too, while 

 wandering rod in hand along some purling brook "aU of 

 a summer day." 



I think I can see the author of them letting his hackle 

 float gently down into the mysterious depths of one of 

 those gurgling caverns 'neath the alders, a second's 

 pause, an opalescent flash in the wai-m sunlight, a short 

 quivering of the rod, and the prize is his. It must, I 

 think, have been at just this precise moment the poet 

 uttered that tender tribute to our fairest month as he 

 slipped the old fellow safely into his creel, 



As I write, the battered case that has held my dufilefor 

 so long stands near me awaiting its annual filling; and 

 around about it lie scattered my old friends— my rods, 

 my corduroy coat, long ago turned to mouse color, the 

 creel with its leather backing, and last, but not least, 

 those ancient stand bys, my wading shoes— all of them 

 friends tried in many an hour of need and found true. It 

 would fill a volume to give you even half their history. 

 Many of them are getting old — worn out with hard work 

 —and yet they seem to say "Come, try us again; we will 

 bring you comfort— luck." It is after all your old things 

 which are dearest to you. The new rod, spick and span 

 in its new dress of polished metal and scarlet silk, is but 

 an experiment— a mere apparatus— until it has become 

 dear to you through day after day of faithful service. 

 It is then that it becomes your friend. It is association 

 which binds, novelty can do little more than delight. 

 And so in a few days the kit will be packc d and another 

 fortunate mortal will be on his way to wet a line in the 

 heart of our North Woods. 



Last year my good friend the State Forester and my- 

 self found food for reflection over our last summer's trip 

 to the headwaters of the Hudson and down Cold Eiver. 

 This year we intend to widen our circuit, going over our 

 old route and continuing around to Newcomb, and so on 

 back to Keene Valley. So you shall hear from us later. 



And that reminds me that there are hoiirs during the 

 long, drowsy days in camp, when the sun burns hot and 

 the big fellows seek the bottom near the cool spring. 

 When we stretch out under the shade of our slant and 

 listen to the yellow jackets droning over the remnants of 

 our dinner. When the half- burned logs lie hot under 

 their bed of ashes, and our bark roof ctirls under the 

 rays that drive even the scampering chipmunk to his 

 hole. 



It is then I say that we often feel that time is being 

 wasted and are wont to say, "Is not this forsooth a most 

 excellent time to send a line of greeting to The Stream?" 

 If you asked our excuse we would be obligtHl to own up 

 to an acute attack of pure laziness, for often before we 

 know it we are both of us snoring away, and awake only 

 to find the pond shining in the yellow evening light, while 

 here and there iipon its placid surface a widening ring 

 tells of some unfortunate wanderer. It is then we con- 

 vince ourselves that if we want a panful for supper we 

 must hustle. F. Bekkelby Smith. 



EARLY NEWS. 



The sparrow told it to the robin, 

 The robin told it to the wren, 

 Who passed it on, with sweet remark, 

 To thrush, and bobolink, and lark,— 

 The news that dawn had come again. 



— Anna M. Pratt, in July St. Nicholm. 



ABALONE AND SQUID. 



YESTEEDAY Mr. Duarte, who keeps the fish market 

 here, kindly called at my room at this hotel to give 

 me some information about the fish found on this coast, 

 when I asked him some particulars about the abalone, 

 the shells of which are found in such abundance in all 

 the shops here, and when polished are indeed very beau- 

 tiful, presenting various brilliant colors. He says: "There 

 are two varieties of this species of shellfish found on this 

 coast, commonly designatad as the red and the blue from 

 the colors exhibited when the shell is polished. The red 

 is much the largest and the most abundant here, while 

 the blue predominates further south, say iii the neigh- 

 borhood of Santa Barbara. Both are edilole when prop- 

 perly prepared, but are not in common use among the 

 Americans, who do not understand the mode of prepar- 

 ing them, while the Mexicans make of them a dish which 

 is admired by all. It is tender, juicy and of fine flavor. 

 [This I can vouch for, for I have eaten of it.] To prepare 

 this properly the abalone is removed from the shell, to 

 which it is firmly attached for a space of from 1 to 4in., 

 according to the size. It is then pounded sufficiently to 

 reduce it almost to a pulp, but not so violently as to break 

 it into pieces. It is then boiled from six to eight minutes, 

 when it is taken from the pot, cut into small pieces, 

 dressed with butter and proper seasoning and served hot. 

 If it is boiled too long it becomes tough and practically 

 not edible. 



"They are generally taken among the rocks along the 

 shore at low tide. The implement used is made of iron, 

 from two to ten and even fifteen feet long. On one end 

 a hook is tin-ned and the other is chisel-shaped. They 

 are found adhering to the rocks, sometimes on top, but 

 more generally on the sides. They adhere to these seats 

 with great tenacity. When found the shell is lifted 

 above the rock, when the chisel end of the implement is 

 thrust in under the shell and with a quick motion they 



