AIBILI28, 1894.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



jpportunity offered, to give greedy Ned a "Roland for an 

 Oliver." I smiled, though with a sickly cast paled o'er 

 it, at the cunning tactics that here gave me no chance for 

 the finny brood whatever. 



There I was, flogging away at the rippling waters with- 

 out a rise, while Ned hung one at the first cast, which he 

 soon duplicated a moment after. Now, I am not an en- 

 lyious angler at all, but you can wager your wealth that 

 P love to keep my record somewhere near the head of the 

 hist, and I knew it could not be done at my end of the 

 irocks, so I concluded to change base and commenced a 

 ■tramp along the rough and ragged shore in hopes of bet- 

 Itering my fortune, which I soon did in making a double 

 ■catch from some overhanging rocks about 15ft. above the 

 ■water. I sang lustily for Peter to bring the landing net 

 ■when I had the trout in play, and by the time he arrived 

 ■had the twain so completely exhausted that it required 

 ■neither skill nor care to land them. This satisfied my 

 ■angling aspirations for the afternoon, and in a great 

 ■measure reconciled me to Ned's cunning coup. I, how- 

 lever, kept in view the balancing of the account with him, 

 ■simply as a remedial, not in revenge; for no better camp 

 ■companion than dear old Ned ever fluttered a fly in 

 ■wandering brook or along the rugged shores of the great 

 ■lake. 



I On reaching Ned, after arduous climbing over the sharp 

 | edged rocks, I suggested a return to camp, as the object of 

 lour outing had been satisfactorily accomplished. He ac- 

 I quiesced, and we at once embarked and headed for our 

 [quarters with the sun sinking among clouds gleaming in 

 ■ gold and crimson, and amid the infinite freshness of 

 I nature in all her grand and impressive beauty. Here 



"The trees to every crevice clung, 

 And o'er the dell their branches hung; 

 And there, all splintered and uneven, 

 The shivered rocks ascend to heaven." 



But here is the famous red-wing-coachman with which I 

 caught a 71b. trout, the largest I ever killed," and then a 

 pleasant smile radiated over his bronzed face, as if the 

 sight of that particular fly refreshed his memory with the 

 exciting events of the grand battle, which gave him the 

 grand prize. 



"See what a stout sproatupon which tbey are mounted. 

 I tell you they are dandies and double discount the pretty 

 playthings they now make." 



And so he went on until he had about gone over his en- 

 tire fly-book, and then he closed it and put it away as 

 carefully as if it were a treasure beyond purchase. The 

 opening of the book had so filled him with the early 

 recollections of the gentle art that he commenced a dis- 

 course on the subject, which, if not sustained by authori- 

 ties, was one that led to a long discussion between us. 



Referring to the antiquity of the gentle art, he affirmed 

 that Adam was the first angler and taught the art to his 

 own Seth. Job was also well up in angling, and the 

 prophet Amos alludes to fish hooks. So you see, angling 

 comes with the first creation of man. Even the old ser- 

 pent was an angler, but he landed his game, to the griev- 

 ous lament of the human family, with the historic apple. 

 Sir Walton, honored above all, has beautified the art and 

 "sings its beatific praises" in his pastoral production. He 

 has really "made fishing the type of the gentle mind that 

 finds, even in the midst of hot and angry tumults, a 

 refuge for quiet hours, a haunt of peace by happy river 

 sides." 



"That is all perfectly delicious of the 'Immortal Master,' 

 Ned, but how would he rank with our accomplished ang- 

 lers of the present day? Is not his theory of a different 

 fly for each month a fallacy? Take even the authorities 

 of the present day, and see how they antagonize on the 

 subject as to the best-taking flies for our game fish. I 



waters, notwithstanding the most reasonable arguments 

 to be adduced per contra.'— F. F. Manley. 



'"Asa general thing it is a waste of time to be forever 

 changing your flies. If the fish are not rising it is entirely 

 useless to fling an assortment of flies at them.' — T. S. Up 

 de Graff, M. D. 



" 'Of winged flies I use only the brown-hen and the 

 coachman; of hackles, only a brown, a black and a gin- 

 ger.' — Thaddeus Norris. 



" 'The flies used in lake fishing are larger than those for 

 rivers, and I have frequently observed that the winged 

 flies answer better than palmers.' — T. ,C. Hofland. 



" 'Imitate ever so closely the form and general charac- 

 ter of the fly at which the fish are rising — if the color be 

 wanting you will have no sport.' — Hewett Wheatley. 



" 'The angler, on making a lengthy tour for sport, can- 

 not have too great a number or variety of artificial flies.' 

 — Genio C. Scott. 



" 'There are times when the sorriest conglomerate tied 

 on a hook in the most barbarous manner, will take trout 

 as fast as presented, and why this is so no one has yet 

 solved; when they will take a "chunk of old horse," or any- 

 thing else, and that thrown at them with a splash loud 

 enough to wake the dead; and then again, the choicest 

 specimen of the fly-tyer's art, the very darling of his im- 

 agination, cast with the practice of years and as light as 

 thistle-down, will cause S. fontinalis to scurry to his 

 friend in the next county and cause all thinking anglers 

 to argue, "why is this thusly." '— Z>. S. Kimball. 



Salvelinus fontinalis is the most "curious cuss" that 

 poor tired humanity has ever been called upon to tackle 

 and he who gets the art of fly-fishing "down fine"deserves 

 to wear a No. 9 hat, have a soft, soft cushion in his every- 

 day chair, be buried beside some babbling brook of his 

 choice and have upon his tombstone, "When this man 

 walked the earth Salvelinus fontinalis' s 'name was Den- 

 nis.' May he never have wet feet any more; may he 

 always be warm, not too warm, but just warm enough; 

 may he have a little cloud for his very ©wn, and may he 

 'among the angels stand,' a creel upon his shoulder 

 and a fly-rod in his hand. Requiescat in pace." 



And so we might indefinitely continue to the utter con- 

 fusion of the guild. "Now, your own experience tells 

 you that the varying moods of the trout are a thing 'no 

 feller' can find out, and that if he won't take a fly of one 

 construction, give him another, and so on, till you finally 

 have him down fine." 



"Your authorities are worthy of great consideration," 

 replies Ned, "but, at the same time, I beg to have an 

 opinion of my own on the subject, and that is that the 

 cast, the flutter and size of fly are just as important as the 

 construction, combination of feathers, tinsel, etc., and I 

 sometimes think decidedly more important." 



"That is all O. K. and I hope you will practice what you 

 preach; drop your fly with airy lightness, and flutter it as 

 if the thing were about to take wing and fly away." 



Ned looked up a little surprised at my critical remarks 

 and then quite pertinently said: 



"There are some anglers who, in casting, dwell so long 

 between the recovery and the delivery of the fly, that there 

 is apparent danger some day of a trout being taken in the 

 rear and lifted over the shoulders." 



"All of which means that I am not on exact time in my 

 return cast." 



* 'Nearly so; quite so, sometimes." 



"Thanks for the information, and as I am a candidate 

 for a premium at the World's Fair Casting Tournament, 

 will at once endeavor to make the correct time." 



With this the fly talk and good-natured badinage ended, 

 and then on Ned putting away his tackle we strolled out 

 on the gray rocks in our immediate front and made a 

 favorable forecast of the weather. A bright sun was 

 showing up on the rim of the western horizon and a few 

 birds in the thickets along the shore were making the air 

 melodious with their sweet notes, all of which confirmed 

 our diagnosis of the atmospheric elements. 



Alex. Starbuck. 

 [to be continued.] 



Trouting at Parkside, Fa. 



Parkside, Pa., April 16.— Though 13in. of snow had 

 fallen it had had almost disappeared by opening day. 

 There was still a little left in the woods, but the trouting 

 was excellent. 



At the Park House a number of fishermen from New 

 York and Philadelphia, among whom were Mr. J. Steele, 

 Mr. Wm. H. Ziegler and wife, Mr. and Mrs. J. R. Reich- 

 ert, Mr. Geo. R. Fleming, Mr. C. A. Bragg, Mr. A. 

 Marble, Mr. D. A. Keyes, Mr. J. A. Seeley. The day was 

 perfect, and toward evening the fishermen came in. Mr. 

 Keyes and Stimson had thirty-seven nice fish, Mr. Ziegler 

 took twenty-seven. Mr. Bragg and Marble also made 

 good catches. 



Of those stopping at other houses, Mr. C. A. Boyan made 

 a splendid catch of half a hundred. He is a crack fly- 

 fisherman. Mr. R. Coleman made a good catch on the 

 second day. He has been fishing the West Broadheadfor 

 over thirty years, and knows just how to get them. He 

 uses the fly so cleverly that it is a treat to watch him. 

 There were a number of others who passed who had well- 

 filled baskets. 



The flies in use are on Nos. 10 and 12 Sproat hooks, and 

 of dark color; no bright flies are used. 



The streams have been clear and the very moderate 

 winter has left them unusually full of trout. Fishermen 

 are passing all the time, and the farmers, who charge a 

 quarter for fishing their part of the streams, must be 

 doing a thriving business. W. T. Morrison. 



A One-Armed Angler in Clover. 



Mr. Samuel Collyer sends us this note from the 

 Tacoma (Wash.) Union: 



"W. S. O'Brien, the wellknown one-armed enthusiastic 

 disciple of Izaak Walton, went trouting on Wednesday 

 up Clover Creek and brought home a large basket of 

 fine speckled beauties, the largest of which measured over 

 14in. in length. Mr. O'Brien says he lost more fish that 

 day than any day in his whole fishing experience. Just 

 as he would get a fish nearly to hand, it would drop back 

 into the water. He will use larger hooks next time. He 

 caught all the fish after 3 o'clock and came in from Brook- 

 dale on the 6 o'clock motor. Mr. O'Brien says the best 

 trouting place in the State is Round Top Lake, in Succo- 

 tash Valley Ji( this side of Mt. Tacoma." 



We had a royal supper that evening, it being reinforced 

 by a couple of partridges one of the half-breeds had killed 

 while gathering balsam at noon in the forest. I informed 

 the boys that it was a close season for the toothsome 

 birds, but they replied that there was no close season upon 

 the North Shore for the Indians, and that they killed 

 whatever they desired for their own use. 



"But you are not Indians, nor are we," I responded to 

 his explanation. 



"Half Indian anyhow, and that makes it go," Peter 

 answered. 



Ned, who was somewhat of an epicure and had an un- 

 bounded stomach, insisted in not splitting hairs on the sub- 

 ject. It was, I thought, a slight encouragement for more 

 of the prohibited game, and so Peter and Kenosh both 

 concluded, for there was an inquiry shortly after from the 

 twain as to the number of cartridges in camp. If this 

 kind of f reebooting on the forbidden game was to be 

 done under the rose, a serious question arose within me, 

 viz. , whether I was to partake of it if spread before me, or 

 whether I should hand the red-handed violators over to the 

 minions of the law when we returned. I, however, con- 

 cluded to settle that important question when the law 

 was again fractured, but Ned said it never would be and 

 so I bothered no more about it. One day I did think I 

 was eating something that tickled my palate like unto 

 the toothsome partridge. On inquiry, Ned said it was a 

 jobberwink, a bird I had never heard of before; but then 

 my education in ornithology had been sadly neglected in 

 my early days. I was simply an example of dense ignor- 

 ance on the subject, I assure you, though I was a dear 

 lover of the jobberwink. While on the subject let me 

 here state that I have never seen them quoted in our 

 market reports of game, and think they must be a rara 

 avis indeed, yet the boys declared the woods were full of 

 them. 



We arose the next morning with a southwest wind and 

 a sombre sky greeting us. It being exceedingly favorable 

 for trouting, we immediately after breakfast started with 

 the boat along the shore, casting as we went. Ned was 

 rewarded with a noble rise and hung and killed the fon- 

 tinalis. Shortly after, I received a rise from one of the 

 juvenile class that had doubtlessly strayed away from 

 parental eyes and happily missed it. Securing no more 

 responses here we went to the ' 'big rocks," but failed to 

 tempt with our clever deceits after a full half hour's 

 earnest endeavor. 



The storm which had been threatening all morning now 

 gave evidence of a sudden and terrible visitation by vivid 

 lightning and loud thunder. It was the signal of a hasty 

 retreat to camp and as there was no standing on the order 

 of going, we hustled into the boat more rapidly than grace- 

 fully. The wind, as if it desirad to take a prominent part in 

 the elemental outbreak, came bounding o'er the waters in 

 spiteful violence, and in a few minutes had the great lake 

 in curving clouds of foam. As we had about a mile to go, 

 the boys looked upon the angry sea as a mere bagatelle, 

 one of them saying: 



"We will make camp all right, andwithdry jackets too." 



Manfully they pulled the ashen blades, scattering the 

 pearly spray from the bow as if going through a roaring 

 cataract. The half-breeds seemed to enjoy the wildness 

 of the waters and laughed and sang as if on pleasure bent. 

 Around the jutting point we swiftly swept, and then hav- 

 ing the wind at our heels went into our snug harbor with 

 the snow-like froth fairly flying from the head of our 

 little craft. Away out by the Lizards we saw the Mackinac 

 of the Kentucky angler pitching and tossing at a great 

 rate and evidently making for Gravel River, the only har- 

 bor of retreat this side of Gargantua. We waved our 

 handkerchiefs as a salute and the response duly came 

 with a lively fluttering of the white linen. 



We had been in camp but a few minutes when the rain 

 poured down bounteously, but as the surcharged clouds 

 of inky darkness moved tj the east of us, we escaped the 

 worst of the storm. The atmosphere was now perceptibly 

 cooled by the shower, but the leaden sky still prevailed, 

 and it looked as if we would have to pass the remainder 

 of the day in camp. 



Ned sought enjoyment in overhauling his tackle; his 

 flies, however, being his especial delight, for many of them 

 were pleasant reminders of his outings on the famous 

 Nipigon. 



"There," said he, as he held aloft a favorite fly he had 

 taken from his spacious book, "is the most taking lure I 

 ever cast." 



It was a gray-hackle on a 1-0 sproat hook and made by 

 Mrs. McBride. 



"And here," he continued, "is another, a black-spider; 

 and still another, a red-ibis, all made by the same party. 



FLORIDA TARPON. 



Taken by Miss Bertha Woodward, near Port Myers, Fla., March 17, 1894. 

 Length, 6ft. lin. Weight 1251bs. Time 50 minutes. 



will give you a few quotations which I have, here at hand 

 from well-known professionals on the subject: 



" 'The idea that each month has its own killing flies is 

 sheer nonsense; a fly that is good on a bright day in spring 

 is good on any other bright day.' — Fred Mather. 



' ' 'It is well to have in your fly-books a little of every- 

 thing, but of gray and brown-hackles, coachman and pro- 

 fessors an abundance.' — L. B. France. 



"'The kind of flies to be used vary with the locality, 

 stream, state and stage of the water, weather, etc. * * * 

 The only way is to keep trying until the one is found that 

 does please.' — Ghas. F. Orvis. 



" 'A brilliantly-colored imitation of a fly will lure them, 

 and herein largely consists the science of a fisherman in 

 judging what style of fly is appropriate to a peculiar state 

 of the atmosphere or locality.' — T. Robinson Warren. 



" 'The aim of the angler ought to be to have his artificial 

 fly, by its form and colors, to attract the notice of the 

 fish; in which case he has a much greater chance of suc- 

 cess than by making the greatest efforts to imitate any 

 particular species of fly.' — Prof, Bennie. 



' ' 'I esteem the color of the fly's body of far greater im- 

 portance than that of the wings.' — Hewitt Wheatley. 



" 'I would advise all experts to keep a well-filled fly- 

 book.' — George Dawson. 



" 'My favorites, on the whole, are all the red, brown, 

 orange and yellow hackles, and ^the blue and yellow 

 duns.' — Frank Forrester. 



" 'The palmer hackle is never totally out of season.'— 

 Alfred Ronalds. 



" 'Good flies for black bass trolling are Montreal, scarlet- 

 ibis, brown-hackle, Cheney and grizzly-king.' — ilf. M. 

 Backus. 



" 'The trout fly is a conventionalized creation, as we say 

 of ornamentation. The theory is that fly-fishing, being a 

 high art, the fly must not be a tame imitation of nature, 

 but an artistic suggestion of it.' — Charles Dudley Warner. 



" 'To load yourself with swarms of flies is folly. * * * 

 Use a dark fly for dark waters and a bright fly for bright 



