April 20, 1893.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



337 



watch; barely 4 o'clock. "When had I been up before at 

 that time? What had I sacrificed for this day's sport and 

 the work piUng up on my desk at home? I mustn't think 

 of it, I sliould go crazy if I did. 



We hurried and dressed and were soon down-stairs. A 

 grateful scent of cooking met us half way. We went 

 into the "best room" and sat down on the horsehair 

 chaii'S to wait. We dared not open the front door to go 

 out, nor enter the kitchen whei-e she was, and so we 

 waited, alternately slipping ofE and pushing om-selves 

 back on the horsehair chairs. Had it been light enough 

 we might hare looked through the family photograph 

 album, which occupied a central position on the mahog- 

 ony table. We talked ui undertones, and then only on 

 topics that might not offend if overheard. 



At last we were invited to enter the kitchen, Lige had 

 already eaten, so as to get his chores done m time to go 

 with us. His time would be oars for ten hours after we 

 heard the bone miU whistle up the valley, and that blew 

 at 6 o'clock. We hastily bolted our eggs and salt pork, 

 drank the rye coffee, very weak at that, and were soon 

 ready to go down to the barn to look after our horse. We 

 wei'e told not to ' 'bender" Lige or he wouldn't get ready 

 to go at 6. We concluded not to go to the bam, for fear 

 of "hendering," but walked out over the dewy farm, and 

 when far away discussed the situation. I regret to be 

 obliged to say that we even considered the expediency of 

 leaving at once, looking up a stream for ourselves and 

 cheat the woman out of her prospective $2, but the 

 thought of poor Lige's disappointment was too much for 

 our tender hearts and we concluded to go the whole pro- 

 gramme. 



At last full and clear we heard the whistle up the 

 valley, and went back to the house. Lige was ready and 

 had a white birch pole m his hand to which was attached 

 a green grass line with sheet-lead sinkers. ' ' You'll need 

 a sinker," he said, "where we're going the water rims 

 like Jehu;" but I did not put on one for all that. 



We were off at last. Oh the exhilaration of the moment. 

 Out from a gloom and business life worse than we had at 

 home we went into the doubly blessed roving life beneath 

 God's wide dome of blue that stretched so wide reaching 

 overhead. Lige began to thaw; and discoursed learnedly 

 on fish and fishing. Was this the same man who sawed 

 and churned last night? He apologized in a meek shame- 

 faced way for treating us so meanly and for being married. 

 How he come to get married he didn't know. She had 

 evidently married him and now his cares and labors were 

 taking him to the grave. Would it be wrong for hun to 

 run off and leave her? he asked, and where could he go 

 to? We could give him no advice, no consolation, but 

 told him to drop his cares and troubles for the once and 

 have a good time. I am glad he took our advice and had 

 one day of respite for which we paid. 



We fished to our heart's content and came home hungry, 

 and with baskets well filled. We ate our supper, paid 

 our bills, gave Lige some cigars, came home, and though 

 we think of him often we never visit him. Occasionally 

 we see him drive by, baskets of eggs and a box of butter 

 in the wagon, but his wife is always with him. Once I 

 stood by the window as he went past, I caught his eye 

 and nodded; I thought I detected an answering gleam, 

 and I still think that as he flicked an imaginary fly from 

 the old mare, the motion was a signal of good will to me 

 — but I am not quite sure. Albert Lewis. 



A TWO DAYS' OUTING. 



At last the time arrives and we are off, and after a 

 railroad ride and a steep climb over a Connecticut hill 

 road we come in sight of our destination, a,n ideal farm 

 house, from which is had a beautiful view of the valley, 

 with here and there a house nestled among the trees, the 

 richly clothed Salmon Eiver hills; and far beyond, to the 

 westward, mingled with the azure of the sky, one can, on 

 a clear day, catch the darker blue of the Berkshires. 



My companion was Mr. John T. , a gentleman in all that 

 goes to make up that much abused word, a man who 

 never shoots another's birds, who, if fishing in advance 

 on a narrow stream, always leaves enough good water to 

 enable his companion following to have an equal chance 

 with himself, who believes that the inim bottle and the 

 rod never will assimilate, and who, though middle-aged 

 in years, is a boy in heart in all that pertains to the manly 

 use of rod and gun. Would that his kind were legion. 



The only drawback to the stream is that there are very 

 few places where one can use a fly. It fell to me to make 

 the first cast and scarcely had the squirming temj)tation 

 touched the water when it was seized, but the extradition 

 papers were in my charge and were speedily served on 

 his lordship, and he soon reposed on the bottom of the 

 creel. It was only an Sin. trout, but it was a beauty, and 

 hopes were high as the weather was perfect, a southwest 

 wind and a cloudy sky, and we knew that in previous 

 seasons many a lordly specimen had battled in vain for 

 his life in the very section of the stream we were enter- 

 ing. So we waded on, taking here and there a fish, and 

 often retm-ning them to the water, for the brook seemed 

 to contain plenty of fingerlings and very few that war- 

 ranted keeping. On we went with varying success until 

 warned by the watch that it was time to retrace oiu: step. 



On comparing creel we found that out of all we had 

 taken only nine had been retained, and none of them 

 would weigh over a half-pound. But 'tis not aU of fish- 

 ing to catch fish. Rather is it the sense of absolute free- 

 dom from the cares and worries of every-day life, the 

 laughing stream, the intangible, yet subtle, aroma that 

 floats on the air, with here and there a dash of spruce or 

 hemlock. 



Waking with the birds and with hope still in our hearts 

 we started the next morning for a more distant and less 

 axjcessible section of the stream, containing also the big 

 pool, always good for at least a half dozen of the spotted 

 treasures. But we soon saw that the day would be 

 against us, as a cloudless sky and no breeze portended a 

 sS-try day. StUl we bore in mind the early bird proverb, 

 and, jointing rods, we set about our sport in a manner 

 that deserved a better reward than we received. We had 

 fislied all the way to the head of the pool with the same 

 unvarying reward — ^nothing. I had carried this pool in 

 my mind's eye for a month previous to our pilgrimage, 

 and I will describe it as it should have looked, but not as 

 I foimd it. The whole fall is about 15ft., composed of 

 about fift^con steps, and as the water comes leaping from 

 ^tep t;o st^ it makes one mass of spray, which, struck by 



the sunbeams, reflects the colors of the rainbow. The 

 pool that catches and imprisons all the loveliness is oval 

 in shape and dark and deep, with one side overhung by a 

 high bank and shaded by massive hemlocks. Who can 

 blame the spotted monarchs of the stream for making 

 their home under its deep shade, from whence they dart 

 %vith a tiger-like ferocity upon any luckless cricket that 

 hurries by. This is the pool as I had it in my mind, but 

 alas! the change since last I had seen it. Tlie water 

 barely rippled over the steps and the bottom of the pool 

 could be clearly distinguished, except under the ever- 

 green-lined bank. Walking down the steps we made three 

 or four casts into the pool without a rise. This influenced 

 my partner to move on down the stream, while I planted 

 myself on the middle stair of the faU and concluded to 

 "bide a wee" for one of the trout that I was almost sure 

 lay under that bank. 



Taking the one lonesome cricket from the bait box, I 

 carefully impaled it on the lightest leader I had, and after 

 making one or tAvo preliminary casts to get length of line, 

 I dropped it gently at the lower end and on the bank side 

 of the pool and commenced slowly to reel in. I had per- 

 haps reeled in 5yds. when I got a rise that almost precipi- 

 tated me into the pool, as my footing was anything hut 

 secure. He had fastened himself, however, and after a 

 short struggle I had him exhausted at my feet in the pool 

 below ms. Now comes the foolish part of it. In the ex- 

 citement of the moment, instead of walking down the 

 steps and towing him to solid ground where I could have 

 a good foothold, I attempted to pifll him up to me where 

 I stood and was just about to lay my hand on him, when 

 with a flip of his tail he disappeared in the pool. How 

 big was he? I never attempt to give the weight of escaped 

 fish, but I will say that I should have had to have lifted 

 the cover of the creel to get him into it. I fished that pool 

 for the next half hour in the ^^ain hope he or some of his 

 compauions would make me another call, but the reward 

 was one 8in. trout caught in the riffle just below the pool. 

 Regaining my partner, who had ca.ught but one above the 

 Umit, and the sun by this time showing brightly, we con- 

 cluded to reel up and make for the house. 



And now for the sequel: My host, commenting on our 

 joor luck, said in a casual way that he guessed we would 

 lave better luck if one Rich had not been netting them 

 below the mill dam, as he (Rich) had taken over lOOlbs. of 

 trout and shipped them somewhere. Here is the Avhole 

 thing in a nutshell. If Mr. A. C. Collins will write me I 

 think I can give him the name of a man in that vicinity 

 who will give him proof of the above statement. Any- 

 way, we had a very enjoyable time, and returned home 

 with hand and nerve steadier to take up the old I'outine of 

 hf e where it was broken off, A. F. D. 



INDIANS AND THE BIG GAME. 



Beaver Creek, Wyoming, March 23. — Editor Forest 

 and Stream: I notice in a February issue of Forest and 

 Stream an article headed ' 'Market Hunters, Indians 'and 

 Deer." My subject is hide-butchers, Indians, elk andante- 

 lope. 



It is about 150 miles from the Shoshone Reservation on 

 Wind River, to this place. This is their main hunting 

 grounds, around the head watei-s of Green River, and also 

 some of the tributaries of the Snake River. Only five 

 years ago when I came into this country you could see 

 antelope by the thousands. Now there are not many 

 hundreds. Imagine 600 Indian himters roaming over the 

 country all summer and fall, kilhng all the game they 

 possibly can, for the hides only, for they save very little 

 of the meat comparatively. You can see their camps in 

 every direction. When "one party vacates a camping 

 ground it is soon taken by another. So the same places 

 are hunted almost continuously. Any one with sense and 

 reason can foretell what the result will be, a,nd that result 

 will be in the near future. 



The elk and deer will escape their slaughter much 

 longer, as these range in the timber in the summer and 

 fall, and high up in the mountains, where it is more diffi- 

 cult to go with their ponips, and where they cannot gain 

 access with their ponies the game is perfectly safe from 

 them, for they are not noted for their pedestrian qualities. 

 If they ca,nnot get thereon horseback it is a dead certainty 

 they have not lost any game in that direction. But in the 

 spring when the elk work up from their winter range, the 

 bulls separate from the cows, following up the mountains 

 as fast as the snow will permit them, while the cows re- 

 main in the foot hiUs among the quaking aspen groves 

 and in the willow bottoms along the streams, where they 

 have their yomig, and there they remain until their calves 

 are strong enough to follow them higher up into the 

 moim tains. If it should happen to be an early spring, so 

 that the Indians can get over the Continental Divide from 

 Wind River before the cows and calves move up, then the 

 destruction begins, for after their winter's fast they are 

 generally poor and weak and consequently stupid, not 

 using the sagacity against danger that they use later in 

 the season. 



One instance came under my observation four years ago 

 near the head waters of Green River. The Indians suc- 

 ceeded in getting over from Wind River in the early part 

 of May. I was hunting for bear and was camped near 

 f oiir lodges of Indians (that is, four buck Indians and their 

 families). I came into their camp one day and one of 

 the hunters happened to be home and could talk and un- 

 derstand English pretty well. I said to him, "How many 

 elk you kill here?" He said, "May be so twenty," count- 

 ing by holding up all his fingers four times. "How long 

 you been here in this camp?" "Six sleeps" (six days). I 

 •asked him then how many the other hunters had killed. 

 "May be so all the same," meaning that they had kiUed 

 about as many. I did not doubt his word, for on going 

 back to my camp I met another hunter returning. He 

 had a pile of skins on his pony and he was on top of all. 

 "You have got a big lot of elk," I said. "Yas, me catch 

 em heap click." I counted them and he had six hides 

 that he had got that day. They remained in the same 

 camp three or four days longer, and then started to 

 another camp to destroy more game. 



Now we may safely claim that those four Indian hun- 

 ters killed 100 .elk in that one camp. Most if not all were 

 cows. According to nature the most of those cows had or 

 would have had calves. Besides this number they would 

 wound and cripple others; for a lai'ge portion of the game 

 they kOl they never get the hides of, for they run off and 

 die." Any one that knows the condition of game in the 

 spring generally knows that the carcass is a poor excuse 



for food and the hides are almost worthless. Yet the poor 



animals die aU the same. 



The Indian Agents claim that the Indians have a per- 

 fect right to hunt on unoccupied government land, and 

 they certainly do it here, both on occupied and on unoc- 

 cupied land without restraint. The laws of the State of 

 Wj^oming prohibit any one from killing for hides and 

 also restrict to three a week. Whether the Indians come 

 imder the same law or whether the government considers 

 them privileged characters I have not been able to learn. 



One of the employees of the Wind River Agency was 

 over here last summer looking after the interest of the 

 Indians on their hunting grounds. He claimed that one 

 party had claimed the right to deal with Indians, trading 

 for their buckskin and hides on the reservation, and that 

 he can ship them off openly. It seems strange to me that 

 the Federal Government allows each State to make her 

 game laws and then privilege some to break it, when 

 the laws of Wyoming prohibit any one from buying or 

 selling or have in possession any tanned or untanned 

 game skins. If such is the case there is a kink some- 

 where that ought to be pulled out. Mountaineer, 



SAMUEL S. HAMLIN. 



A PERSONAL acquaintance with JIi-. Samuel S. Hamlin, whose death 

 occurred at his home in Elmira, N. Y.i Sunday, April 9, in the 76th 

 year of his age, leads me to say a word in your columns regarding 

 him. 



Mr. Hamlin was a pierfect representative of that class we younger 



men delight to designate as "sportsmen of the old school." Although 

 a very busy man from his yo\ith up to the time of his retirement some 

 years ago, and a very successful man in a business way, he still found 

 time tn indulge his taste for field sports; and it was a rare treat to sit 

 down with him and listen to his tales of long ago. He was a great 

 admirer of Fobbst and Stream and I think had taken the paper from 

 its inception, and when he learned that I was an occasional contribu- 

 tor, I know he thought all the more of me. He was the Sam who 

 figured so prominently in Dr. Up DeGraEE's charming book "Bodines," 

 that so delighted the fishing world a dozen years ago, and to Mr. Ham- 

 lin was the book aflEectionately dedicated by the author, Endowed by 

 a sturdy New England ancestry with a strong constitution, advancing 

 years failed to abate his love for the field and brookside, and with 

 ample means and leisure at his disposal, he traversed a large part of 

 the United States indulging his favorite jDastime. Only a short time 

 ago he was telling me of a recent successful turkey hunt in Virginia 

 involving a long tramp, and his enthusiasm kindled like a boy's as he 

 detailed each act of the day's sport to its final culmination. 



The lakes of western New York were a great delight to him, and in 

 his Uttle steam launch on Canandaigua he whiled away many happy 

 hours with a few chosen friends. My first meeting with him was at 

 Honeoye Lake where, in company mth his favorite three nephews, a 

 couple of bright autumn days were delightfully spent. It mattered not 

 that the ducks failed to decoy, everything went well with us. 



Mr. Hamlin was a conscientious, liberal, Christian gentleman. His 

 acts of chai-ity and kindness were legion, and he has passed away, 

 leaving the example of a life well spent that none need fear to emu- 

 late. I only wish a worthier pen than mine might embalm his virtues 

 in Forest and Stream. H. W. De Long. 



DANSVttLB, N. Y., April 14. 



Song of the Western Meadow Liark. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



I ha\"e not got Audubon's, Baird's, Coues's, or any 

 standard work on ornithology, and would like to know if 

 the meadow lark of this part of the West (northwestern 

 Nebraska) is a different species from the meadow lark 

 east of the Missoiui. 



In size and color I can see no difference between the 

 meadow lark of my boyhood days and the meadow lark 

 of Nebraska, but their song is entirely different. The 

 meadow lark of eastern Iowa whistled one refrain over 

 and over, and if there was not music in this song it was 

 very cheering to hear on a March morning after a long, 

 cold winter. 



Our Western lark begins its song almost the same way, 

 and then it sounds as though it was trying to sing with 

 its throat full of water, and will whistle five or six short 

 bars and stop. But it is forever singing, or trying to, 

 both day and night. In June, when moonlight, it can be 

 heard any hour of the night. 



Why this difference of song in these birds,which as I said 

 before, seem alike in both size and color, and only a dif- 

 ference of four or five hundred miles between them. 



J. W. A 



[The Eastern and the Western meadow lark have been 

 regarded as different species or as two varieties of the 

 same species. They are similar in size and color, but the 

 Western form is duller, paler and grayer than the East- 

 ern. It is probable that the two forms grade into each 

 other. The songs of the two are certainly different, as 

 stated by our correspondent, who in eastern Iowa may 

 have heard the Eastern form, and in western Nebraska 

 certainly listened to the Western. In one of the New York 

 magazines some years ago Mr. E. E. Thompson, the artist, 

 had a very interesting paper on the "Song of the Western 

 Lark."] 



Pine Grosbeak in Minnesota. 



Ely, St, Louis County, Minn. — ^WiU say I find grosbeak 

 liere everj^ year, the entire winter. This year they are 

 not quite so numerous, but the males are more red than 

 usual. Their feed here is the seeds from the cedar and 

 spruce, with a goodly supply of buds from the aspen or 

 poplar. Who has seen our crossbills? I usually see them 

 here by the hundreds, but in all my travels this winter 

 (and I am in the woods all of the time) I have seen but 

 two of these hardy little fellows. 



One of the Unreliables. 



Michigan Bird Arrivals. 



Detroit, Mich., April 11.— The robins put in their ap- 

 pearance here March 13, bluebirds March 6, meadow lark 

 March 12, red-headed woodpecker March 11, song spar- 

 row March 12, red-wing blackbird March 12, bronzed 

 grackle March 12, Canada geese March 24, phoebe March 

 26 and killdeer March Igj, B. Swales. 



