406 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



LDec. 10, 1891. 



TO JOHNNY-A DOG. 

 T'LL write a tribute to thee, faithful friend. 



While yet you live and rest you at my feet; 

 Full many a line— aye volume— hRs been penned 



On subjects of less merit than I'U treat: 

 Perrihanoe I'll write mere words, which one may do, 

 And even rhyme, and then gay nothing, too. 



But then I'll do my best, as you have done 



In all the duties falling to your share; 

 If I as fairly wi'ite as you have won, 



There are no words of. praise the world can spare— 

 Tor fewer they than other words you know 

 As weU as 1; but then 'tis better so. 



Ab, me, I've thought some time there is no end 

 To all the myriad words of onrs, mute, air, 



Aad of them all I write you, faithful friend— 

 I of them fill those two plain words prefer. 



If honor can be thus to you convey'd, 



In gold and granite be those words ii)l*idl 



Thro' all the lapse of time what earthly race 

 Has served as humbly faithful, or as trneV 



Unswerving— dauntless still in grief or grace, 

 Oousistenoj I ah, is't not found in you? 



What reck you if in rob' s or rags he go, 



Your master leads, let follow joy or woe. 



Ah, Johnny! as you slumber there and dream, 

 Wii h fitful start of foot and prick of ear, 



Vm thinking all things are not as they seem 

 To us, who dimly see and faintly hear— 



Ju<lging more feebly still of all we mark— 



Our longest strides are stumbles in the dark. 



Else why ihese cherished virtues sl\ould be thine 



I cannot guess; their nobleness alone 

 Lifts your poor tribe so higii I blush for mine. 



And dread the. weaker Impulse of my own! 

 The faults you have let those less ardent name, 

 My pen would fail or nature get the blame. 



Ab, Johnny, in thy darker mind or brain 

 Doth Reason never throw her brighter light? 



'Tis sure you feel, and cry for joy or pain; 

 You know that this is wrong or that is right; 



Your other senses quick and normal seem. 



So, If you do not think, how can you dream? 



Cannot you tell a better coat from mine? 



Some one of happier mood? of quiclfer tread? 

 Do you not see some easier lots than thine— 



Som" luckier dogs, and prettier, better bred? 

 Why plod you then, in unambitious joy. 

 And wae your tail content, a poor man's dog? 



Ah-ba. old doggie, have you no reply 

 But just a joyous shake and wag of tail? 



Or am I dull to fail to read thine eye, 

 And know thy answers, though thy tongue doth fail? 



Methinks I Itnow or guess them, and I sigh. 



To end my effort here. Charles L. Paige. 



A TRANS-CONTINENTAL RUN.-Il. 



[Concluded from Page S67,'] 



WELL, at the end of a week I bade good-bye to Mr. 

 Kaight, his brother-in-law Mr. Dunbar and other 

 jolly good sportsmen, with mine host Dipman, and hired 

 the Clara Brown to transport me to Oly mpia The trip along 

 these tentacles of this d^vil fish of a sound is very pleas 

 ant. The scene is constantly chansing, ducks are flying 

 continually (or such a matter), the wooded shores rise 

 boldly as a rule, the air is delicious, a place where 

 "every object pleases and only man is vile." At Olympia 

 I changed boats, taking the Potter, one of the swiftest 

 boats on the sound, and after a quick trip, during which 

 Mt. Rainier, 60 miles away, showed himself from base 

 to crest in unapproachable style, we saluted Tacoma at 

 5:30 P.M. At this city, near the confines of the huge 

 Tacoma Hotel, I saw the largest black bear it was ever 

 my good fortune to inspect. He was a monster, as big 

 as the oft-quoted "steer" and as good natured as big, 

 kept for the delectation of the guests of the hotel. ' 



After staying here a few days (during which I dis- 

 covered an old army comrade with whom I campaigned 

 many a day during the troublous times of '61 to '65, 

 whom I had not seen for 20 years, and enjoyed the inter- 

 view as only old soldiers can), I left for Victoria, B. C, 

 stopping at Seattle and Port Townsend, making the tor- 

 tuous entrance to the 6x8 harbor of Victoria in good 

 shape after a thoroughly interesting and pleasant trip 

 over the beautiful waters of island -studded Puget Sound, 

 lovely beyond compare. After looking over the cityj 

 and concludinar not to purchase it at present, I set sail, 

 or paddle, for Vancouver, where I tarried several days, 

 absorbing the lovely scenery which was revealed across 

 the charming Burrard Inlet, and as I looked time and again 

 and thought of the goats wandering among the peaks 

 which rose rank UDon rank, snow-clad, into the empy- 

 rean, I recalled "Yo's" fascinating stories of sport among 

 those very mountains, and wished, oh! how I wished, I 

 were with him among the "eternal hills." But no. ' 



Sauntering along the principal street of this enterpris- 

 ing city of twenty thousand people, which had been 

 razed to the ground, with exception of one pingle house, 

 several years since by fire, but now risen in power and 

 fuU of pluck, I saw in the window of a little watch re- 



Fairer's den some fishing tackle. That was plenty. In 

 went. Hadn't been there two minutes before two men 

 came in to get some hooks to go fishing out to a lake 

 three miles away. Asked me to go along. Of course. 

 That's the way fishermen do. But my tramping togs 

 were in my trunk, and they wanted to make the next 

 car (electric of course), as their time was short, to get out, 

 fish, and get back by dark. So I thanked them heartily 

 and got directions from the watch man to go out a cer- 

 tain street back of town until I came to the bridge across 

 an inlet from the bay where I could probably have some 

 sport with trout with the fly or beef. Thither I repaired 

 myself, but naught responded to my wiles excepting one 

 trout and quite numerous bullheads, different from any 

 beautiful fish of that euphonious name I ever saw. They 

 had a variation of horn or spine on. each jaw as usual, 

 and a lovely flufc©4 collar just underueathre^^shing down- 



ward and backward, and could steal bait with neatness 

 and dispatch like any good for nothing. A fisherman 

 came down toward evening to whip the inlet, who said 

 that some evenings he had very good sport with trout of 

 a pound or two. From him I learned that across Bur- 

 rard Inlet was the mouth of a stream called Linn Creek, 

 where trout were wont to be taken, that there was a 

 ferry to Moody ville near by, and that it was as good a 

 stream, accessible, as he knew of. He had my unfeigned 

 thanks for this morsel, and I determined that the next 

 day, my last in Vancouver, should see me investigating 

 the properties of said Linn Creek aforesaid. 



It was 8 by the clock, and when I stood by the side of 

 the dock where the little propeller lay emokinsr, and 

 when some quarters of beef had been contemptuously 

 dumped on the bow, the whistle shrieked one heart- 

 breaking shriek and we backed out. After a pretty half 

 hour's trip in the cool air, the sawmill village of Moody- 

 ville was reached, where gangs of hungry saws chew up 

 timber and spit out lumber for the yearning bowels of 

 big ship?, I had sampled the beef for bait, and betook 

 myself to the creek via a plank road the first half mile 

 and a plank walk the last half, through a fine old moss- 

 hung forest, and then I struck the lovely, brawling 

 stream, but clear as the air above it. Such limpidity did 

 not augur well for success. But the scene was charm- 

 ing. The almost impenetrable, undefiled woods stood 

 guard on either hand, an unbroken array. There were 

 reaches of game and boulders, by the side of which sang 

 the sparkling waters. There were convenient drift piles 

 and isolated logs, above and below which were fine hid- 

 ing holes for possible pounders. The day was perfect, 

 the air just comfortably invigorating, and'l couldn't have 

 improved the toxit ensemble if I would. I rigged a cast 

 and cast the rig, and continued to ditto in some of the 

 loveliest reaches of water that ever were, until I grew too 

 tired. Then I rigged a piece of beef and caught a little 

 foolish dog salmon, the fin of which I took and caught 

 a small trout. Then I caught another larger and poked 

 along up stream, crossing here and there as logs were 

 handy, for I hadn't the necessary wading boots. I sur- 

 prised a mink sneaking along jtist around a bend, saw 

 some wildcat tracks, obtained occasional delicions vistas 

 throuah the overhanging branches of rocky mountain 

 faces and glistening peaks ahead, lunched by" the track of 

 the babbling brook, after which a quiet smoke I took, and 

 so loitering along downward, I let the sweet influences of 

 this soul satisfying day soak into me without let or hin- 

 drance. But you can't describe it, you know. The de- 

 scription of perfect bliss was lost long ago, irrevocably. 



I reached the little sawmill hamlet as the day was 

 drawing to a close, gave my dozen fish to an Indian boy, 

 sailed across the wimpling waters of Burrard, glinted 

 with the slant rays of the setting sun just dropping behind 

 the headland at the foot of the inlet, and concluded that 

 I had had a royal day of it. 



The next morning I filled a tolerably good sized lunch 

 basket with a pretty good a.8sortment of jam and things, 

 inspected the steamship Empress of India, the pioneer of 

 the C. P. R. R.'s Trans Pacific fleet to Liverpool, took my 

 seat in the "Great Overland Flyer," and amid the huzzas 

 of the assemblage, I modestly acknowledged the compli- 

 ment, bade good-by to the Occident and rolled off home- 

 ward. 



And what shall I say of the scenery of the next thirty- 

 six hourp? Not very much I guess. It won't do. You 

 can't describe it any more than you can bliss. How can 

 I give any adequate idea of the noble Frazer and its terri- 

 ble canon, as well as that of the Albert? How shall I 

 describe the magnificent glaciers everlastingly moving 

 and yet never moved? How tell of that gorgeous pano- 

 rama among the Selkuks, where hour after hour those 

 gigantic rock-ribbed and snow-crowned peaks ranged 

 themselves in terrible majesty that we might gaze spell- 

 bound and acknowledge Jehovah? How shall I convey 

 the awe-inspiring effect of standing in a pass scarce a 

 hundred feet wide, while on either side peaks rose almost 

 sheer into the heavens eight thousand feet from the track? 

 Describe it ? Not in the flesh. 



I state it as my conviction, that there is not on the globe 

 another place where for thirty-six hours, or thereabout, 

 a railway train runs at twenty miles the hour amid such 

 errandeur. I have seen the Rockies from Mexico to British 

 Columbia and lived among them, but I don't remember 

 any such ride as that. I may be wrong. IE so, it won't 

 hurc any one. 



We ran through a cut in a huge snow rock and land 

 slide that had pulled up right across the track at the 

 mouth of a snowshed a few days previous. Thirty feet 

 high it was, solid, of snow, ice, rocks, huge trees and 

 everything else gathered in its fearful descent. A cut 

 had been made in it for trains, and right in it we stopped 

 for steam, weather mild, snow melting and the whole 

 besom ready to start again at the drop of the hat. I 

 begged the engineer to go long with all the frenzy I had, 

 and we presently crept out of it. I creep ever since 

 when I think about the squeeze we might have suf- 

 fered. 



We rolled "along day after day until we reached Fort 

 William, on Lake Superior, where in 1867 1 saw an Indian 

 scalp dance just outside the Hudson Bay stockade, 

 where I outfitted for a trip up the Nepigon. Only the 

 H. B. buildings, three, I think, and the stockade there 

 then, and the propeller had to anchor a mile out in the 

 bay. Now there are huge elevators, wharves, round 

 houses and a city. I ran down while the engines changed 

 and viewed the old buildings that stood amid such prim- 

 itive scenes twenty-four years ago, but all was so 

 changed I should not have recognized the surroundings. 

 Tempus fugits, don't it? Near the crossing of Nepigon, 

 on a fine iron bridge, nearly 100 ft. above the water, 

 there is now a hotel. I caught a glimpse of Red Rook 

 H, B. post down the river a way, where the boats stopped 

 on our way up the river on the occasion referred to, and 

 I just ached to be on that noble river again with rod, 

 line and good company. 



Into North Bay, at the junction of the Grand Trunk, 

 we rolled on time the sixth day, and her© I left the pleas- 

 ant acquaintances formed en route, and rode down to 

 Trout Creek, where two years ago I had some very nice 

 sport with the trout and of which I informed your read- 

 ers. Two days I stopped here, having fair success, though 

 it was a little too early for vigorous biting. Still, I made 

 fair catches. I arrived there Friday evening. Satm-day 

 I fished. When I got back at evening the Gej-maa land- 

 lord, on seeing my string, remarked: 



"I got some, too." 



"How did you catch them?" 

 "Mitmy hands." 

 "I mean what bait did you use?" 

 "I don't use any bait. I catch 'em mit mv hands," 

 I looked at him with an expression of "Too thin," and 

 after a little chaff he said: 

 "Veil, I show you to-morrow." 

 "Good," said I. 



Next morning at breakfast he laid beside my plate 

 seven beautiful fish, eight or nine inches long, and as 

 much alike as "two peas." T sampled them satisfactorily, 

 and after breakfast he, my friends Carr and Bartlett, both 

 sportsmen, and I went up the creek into the woods a little 

 way, where he said he flipped the trout out with his 

 hands from beneath the rocks and roots near the bank, 

 and amid a little good-natured chaflSng he took off his 

 coat, rolled up his sleeves to the shoulder and stepped 

 down to the brink. A triangular wink went round be- 

 tween the waiting spectators. He stooped down, ran his 

 hand under one stone and another, fingered around 

 behind a root, under the bank, pulled his arm out of the 

 almost ice cold water, rubbed it, slapped it; moved a little 

 further up, tried it again; crossed over, looked wise, 

 shook his head, tried it again, and finally flipped a big 

 frog out from under a stone, at which there was a com- 

 bined shout from the audience. 



"Well, why don't you catch 'em?" 



He shook his head and replied, "I don't pelieve dey vas 

 here to-day." 



"Oh I no,'' said Carr. "Who's got a line?" 



I had something that would answer, so he cut a limb, 

 took a piece of frog skin for bait, and soon had a trout 

 dangling, and said, "Oh! no, no trout here," and then 

 caught another one. 



"Don't give it up so," shouted I to the hand fisher, so 

 after he had once more stimulated the circulation in his 

 arm he continued the farce, trying here and there where 

 he could get under the stones without wetting his feet. 

 But he didn't keep it up long. Said it was too cold. So he 

 pulled down his sleeves, put on his coat, and we rambled 

 back to the hotel, gradually dropping the subject, for we 

 didn't wish to rupture the entente cordiale. But he still 

 maintained that he caught the fish as we saw him trying 

 to do, and that that was the method by which he and 

 others were accustomed to poach trout in preserved 

 streams in the old country. Who can tell? O. O. S. 



WINTER SPORTS IN NORTH CAROLINA. 



LETTER III. 

 Waifs from Currituck. 



CURRITtJCK SOUND, though incidentally credited to 

 Virginia, because its most direct approaches are all 

 within the territory of Virs-inia, lies geographically 

 entirely within the bounds of North Carolina. Back Bay, 

 which is a northerly projection of the sound connected by 

 a narrow arm, is wholly in Virginia, and some of the best 

 shooting is obtained there. The Ragged Island Club, of 

 which Mr. Clarence Woodward is president, and your live 

 correspondent, Alex. Hunter, the vice-president, 'is within 

 the Back Bay waters, and is reached from Pongo Ferry, 

 which is on the line of the Sound Transportation Company 

 navigating the Chesapeake and Albemarle Canal, en route 

 from Norfolk to Newbern. It can also be reached by alb- 

 mile drive from Virginia Beach, which is a popular 

 watering place accessible by rail from Norfolk. The 

 Martin's Point Club grounds are wholly within the juris- 

 diction of North Carolina, and so are the holdings of 

 most of the other prominent clubs; and these are all 

 reached by the rail and wagon route aforesaid, or by an 

 outside steamboat plying between Norfolk and Knott's 

 Island. 



Currituck Sound has been the objective point for 

 progressive gunners for the past twenty years and more. 

 I remember that the Havemeyer boys (the sugar refiners) 

 were in the vanguard of pioneers. They used to send 

 home barrels of canvasbacks, season after season, to dis- 

 tribute among their wondering friends in New York, long 

 before the rest of the sportsmen caught on to the racket. 

 Before this time, for a generation, the shooting had been 

 almost exclusively on Chesapeake Bay and its several 

 tributaries. Then Havre de Grace was a famous resort, 

 and Eo was the Potomac. Now, alas! the fowl have 

 almost disappeared from those waters, and even in Curri- 

 tuck they are less abundant than they were even ten 

 years ago. I am not convinced that congregations of 

 canvasbacks are numerically less than they have been for 

 the past ten years, but, from what I can see and learn, 

 the "use" more in other places now, especially on the 

 western or main land side of the North Carolina sounds, 

 where much hardship, trouble and expense, and some 

 intelligent coaching, is required to enable the gunners to 

 get at them. Of course the annual fusilade along the 

 marshes which border the channels and creeks where the 

 fowl feed has a positive decimating effect, but this shoot- 

 ing, in my opinion, has not driven the ducks off from 

 their old haunts so much as physical changes which affect 

 the distribution of the wild celery plants, upon which they 

 principally feed. 



Celery is a purely aquatic plant growing wholly under 

 water and it thrives only on marsh muck. Deposits of 

 sand on the beds kill the bulbs. As it is a dioecious plant 

 it may be disseminated to some extent by floating seeds 

 drifting off to other localities, but the chances of propa- 

 gation by this process are infinitesimal. When sandbars 

 and shoals form upon it, as they do constantly, the plant 

 dies. There is no doubt at all but that the sounds are 

 constantly filling up, and that land will ultimately take 

 the place of existing water areas, just as it has been doing 

 for ages past. An emergence of no more than 4ft. would 

 reclaim an immense territory which is now in the transi- 

 tion state of swamp and marsh, including not only Hyde 

 and Dare counties, but four-fifths of what are popularly 

 known as the Eastern Counties. It is hard to realize the 

 fact, but a solid substratum of sea sand or shell rocks 

 (coquiua) underlies the whole region at a depth of 4 

 to 15 ft. 



I use the word celery advisedly, because it is not locally 

 known by any other name. Valisneriais not recognized, 

 though I have heard it called eelgrass, channel weed and 

 tape gxass, from the tapelike appearance of its long 

 leaves. The scientific name {V. spiralis) is applied be- 

 cause of the spiral form which the stalk assumes in its 

 development. I find that one must use the vernacular of 

 the cotmtry 'where he visits, else interco^se will not be 

 intelligible. 



