July 28, 1894.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
7 - 
ON THE NORTH SHORE OF LAKE SUPERIOR. 
(.Continued from Page 5U.) 
At the breakfast hour the boy from the lighthouse, 
with the vacant expression which he never laid aside, 
went down to the shore, and taking his boat started out 
to lift his herring nets, while the girl with the shining 
dark tresses, from the same place, came along and prof- 
fered us a delicious dish of huckleberries. Ned, not to be 
outdone in liberality, gave ber several pieces of silver, 
which made her eyes sparkle and her Hps wreathe in sunny 
smiles. She was a wily diplomat, securing more for her 
berries than if ordered at a stated price. 
1 -.,We kept close in camp till noon, when the fog lifted 
and the sun came out, displaying the little steam tug 
Annie Clarke way beyond the island opposite, where she 
had been lost shortly after the fog came down. She im- 
mediately, on discovering her whereabouts, made for the 
harbor down the bay by taking the channel that led around 
the island. 
Being confident that she had some mail aboard for us, 
we dispatched a messenger from the lighthouse to her 
landing, some two miles down the bay. He went in a 
light rowboat and soon returned with an ample mail for 
us of both letters and papers. This enabled us to pleas- 
antly pass the hours of the afternoen. 
The next morning, when we looped back the front of 
our tent after another night of heavy fog and battling 
waves, the sky was disclosed wreathed in clouds of snowy 
satin, while the wind, which was favorable, gave us a 
beautiful sea of dancing waves, just; the thing for a de- 
lightful sail. 
We took immediate advantage of the situation and 
were off, plowing the waves with the the milk-white foam 
rolling from the bow in rich and shifting tints. Every 
one was in the most cheerful humor as we went gaily 
bowling over the rolling surges. Even Peter had some- 
what recovered his spirits and felt as if he had again been 
taken into our confidence. It was, however, the voyage 
home that made us all so light-hearted, for we had at last 
grown somewhat weary with our long stay on the coast. 
The wild seas, the rugged shores, the dense forests and the 
mountain ranges began to be familiar objects and though 
we still reverenced their grandeur and beauty, were sigh- 
ing for civilization with its comforts, and refining influ- 
ences, and the very dear friends we had left behind. The 
grand vision in prospective to Ned was his wife and 
children, to Kenosh a similar picture in his neat little 
helpmeet and prattling juveniles, to Peter his wedding, 
which was to come off at the Soo on his arrival, and to 
me — well, it don't matter — for as Bobby Burns says: 
"I'll be merry and free, 
I'll be sad for nae-body; 
If nae-body cares for me 
I'll care for nae-body." 
We were headed for Maple Bay, some fifteen miles dis- 
tant, where we intended to fish the big reef that had so 
oft afforded us good sport, and if we were disappointed 
in our ardent hopes, would remain there that night, break 
camp the next morning and away for Gros Cap, there for 
another night and then for the Soo. This was the time- 
table, and if you keep us company you will see whether 
we fail in it or not. 
We had a lovely sail over; the lucent waves flashed in 
crystal foam and rippled along the sides in charming 
cadence, while the sails in harmony joined in a merry 
tune with the sea fairly laughing as it gave us a dipping 
gunwale. It was deliciously gleeful, this dallying with 
wind and wave, and though, our play-fellows were wild 
at times we would smile when the snowy plumes came 
swiftly along with a familiar air: 
• "Witb chafe and change of surges chiming, 
The clashing channel rocked and rang; 
Large music, wave to wild wave timing, 
And all the choral waters sang." 
After about three hours of luxurious sailing we rounded 
into the bay, and then working along a wood-crowned 
and indented shore for about half a mile, were opposite 
our camping grounds, and then down dropped the sails. 
It being very shoal here it took some time and care to 
work toward the shore. We, however, soon got hard 
aground, and not till the boatmen jumped overboard and 
cleaned out a chaunel for us did we land. We were at 
our old quarters', and a fine camping place it was indeed. 
The Indians and half-breeds from G-oulais Bay always 
came here in the fall and spring to get their supply of 
fish. Near the lake we counted seven big reels, on which 
they repaired and untangled their gill nets. They were 
very rude affairs, but fully answered the purpose for 
which they were intended. 
On clearing away a place for our tents, we turned over 
some large stones, unearthing a regular nursery of big 
black ants. What a commotion they made when their 
nests were uncovered. Hither and thither they frenziedly 
ran, taking their large white eggs with them, and not one 
of them that we noticed deserted its ovum. So much in 
sympathy were we with this interesting colony that we 
pitched our tents elsewhere rather than further disturb 
them. 
It is said there are at least a thousand species of them, 
no two of" which have the same habits. Sir John Lubbock 
says: "When we see a community of ants working 
together in perfect harmony, it is impossible not to ask 
ourselves how far they are mere exquisite automatons, 
how far they are conscious beings. When we watch an 
ant hill tenanted by thousands of industrious inhabitants, 
excavating chambers, forming ^tunnels, making roads, 
guarding their homes, gathering "food, feeding the young, 
tending their domestic animals, each one fulfilling its 
duties industriously and without confusion, it is difficult 
altogether to deny to them the gift of reason; and all our 
recent observations tend to confirm the opinion that their 
mental powers differ from those of men not so much in 
kind as in degree." 
We have digressed a little from the subject proper, but 
the history of the ever industrious ant is always interest- 
ing, and a few fines here I hope is not amiss. 
It was nearly 3 o'clock when we had our quarters per- 
fected and the dinner dispatched. In the meantime the 
wind had lulled and the lake became almost a glassy sur- 
face. It was a change such as the wand of any Prospero 
might have caused, so suddenly did it transport us from 
fierce winds to gentle zephyrs. Ned said it would militate 
against the angle, for the reef we were to fish was quite 
shallow, and with a placid sea and bright sun our every 
movement would be fully observed. We, however, were 
eager to begin the work of beguilement, and so took to 
the boat and were rowed to the center of the bay where 
the reef was located. 
Although we had bright skies and quiet waters, the 
weather was perfectly delicious, having a soft balm in the 
air — the aroma of the wild balsam — that was exceedingly 
exhilarating. Every one was in the best spirits. The 
boatmen chatted in their foreign tongue, Ned sang rol- 
licking sea songs, while I kept up the hurrah of applause, 
edging in something when I could get a chance that I 
thought would add to the mirthful festivities that per- 
vaded the boat from bow to stern. 
When we neared the reef Ned commenced delivering 
his flies, hoping, he said, to find some of the dandy tribe 
sporting around the ragged edges of the extensive reef. I 
held my flies in abeyance until we were well on the reef 
and then I sent two first-class flies, a Montreal and a Hen- 
shall, in search of the hidden beauties. Ned was endeav- 
oring to coax them with a tinseled-ibis and white-moth, 
leaving his own creations in retirement. With willing 
hearts and hands we worked for a long time without a 
rise, until finally Ned struck a novel lead in warbling a 
few impromptu verses much to the delight of all, He 
would cast and then sing a verse, ending it by the time 
the flutter of the flies was over. I subjoin his original 
song, which he calls "Tempting," as near as me mory will 
permit: 
First Oast. 
Stealthily I come for you, 
With a rod and line for you; 
And a red and white fly for you; 
Brilliant beauty, you. 
Second Cast. 
By the dark chasm I cast for you. 
And then there's a flutter for you; 
Then I lift and drop them for you; 
Dazzling beauty, you. 
Third Cast. 
The feathery lure will not bring you; 
The downy drop not arouse you; 
Pray tell me where I'll find you? 
Peerless beauty, you. 
Fourth Cast. 
Red, white and blue I've sent to you; 
Will nothing but a worm do you? 
You haughty and greedy thing, you; 
Rainbow beauty, you. 
Fifth Cast. 
Ah! you have come at last, have you? 
Now, fight for your life, will you? 
Ah ! into the net I have you; 
Captured beauty, you. 
If the songstev had not soon caught his trout, which 
was a noble one over 31bs., he would doubtless have spun 
out his jingle to an unlimited length, something akin to 
the "Battle of the Nile." The boatmen were wild with 
delight at Ned's amusing antics and gabbled and laughed 
so heartily that it became infectious. Kenosh, as soon as 
he subsided, got off his old chestnut "No fliee on him" 
and then they both roared again. 1 suggested to Kenosh 
anew version on the "fliee" by substituting microbe, as 
the other was getting entirely too ancient for further ap- 
plication. 
"What a microbe?" he quickly inquired. 
"A microbe is a microbe," I answered seriously, by way 
of pleasantry. 
At it the two went again with chatter and laughter, 
until Peter, who could speak English very well, turned to 
me and said, with a smile on his lips: 
"We thought it something else." 
"First knock down for Peter," chimed in Ned, and then 
the laugh was on me. To relieve the boatmen of any 
suspense and to regain my standing in the court of Momus, 
I explained to their confusion that a "microbe is of the 
genus bacterian, and is supposed to be an animal organism 
of the lowest grade." 
"What are you giving the boys?" said Ned. It is a 
contemptible and malignant insect so blanked small that 
it takes a microscope to find the impish thing. That's 
what it is." 
"Oh," said the boys, with a broad grin at Ned's explana- 
tion, and then the bacterian subject was instantly dropped, 
for at that particular moment I had a glorious response 
to a cast and hung the inquisitive intermeddler. 
You all know how gallantly the trout battle, and I 
have explicitly stated this more than once in this letter, 
but this particular one seemed to have a new method of 
warfare, for he made for one especial point, which was 
a cluster of rocks with many cavernous chambers, and 
one of these he frenziedly try to reach. The water was 
so clear and the reef so shallow that we saw his every 
movement. 
"Hold him away," said Ned, "for if he gets in one of 
those yawning openings he is gone sure." 
I did securely hold him with my little Chubb rod that 
never did better service than just then. The stricken 
trout, now rendered desperate, would suddenly swerve, 
but only a few feet, and then again as suddenly struggle 
to reach his rocky lair. Oh, but he fought frantically 
and heroically, and home never seemed so near and yet 
so far away, as did that little cavern from whence he 
had sprung for the delusive fly. Twice was the tip of 
that little invincible bamboo on a parallel with the butt, 
yet the strain endangered it not. Never did I have more 
confidence in it, and never did it behave more hand- 
somely. Thomas A. Chubb, you are an artist in the 
creation of a rod, and no angler who has ever had such a 
rod as this in his hand under the same circumstances 
could do less than make a public acknowledgment of 
its merits as I do here. It is the rod of rods, and can be 
depended upon not only for hard and active service, but 
for its exceedingly fine action in delivery and recovery. 
Well, to abridge the fight, will simply state that the 
trout at last fell a victim to the rod and rodster, and 
when the scales were placed in his lacerated jaw he 
pulled the indicator down to the 3-pound notch. A more 
beautiful prize could not be coveted. He was perfection 
in symmetry, blazing in celestial hues, every spot a 
radiant jewel, every bar purity itself in gold and crim- 
son, silver and vermilion, with a deep shading that as it 
advances blushes and finally loses itself amid the daz- 
zling and delicate tints that form its robe of beauty. 
Here were two lovely captives, and if no more came to 
our industrious efforts we would be supremely content. 
We continued the casting, however, till it was time to 
return for the evening meal, but no rewards coming we 
headed to the shore where, on arriving, we were greeted 
with clouds of flies and mosquitoes that were buzzing 
and humming in anything but falsetto notes. The warm 
sun of the afternoon had been exceedingly favorable for 
their raids, but it was little gore they extracted from us, 
as our liquid preventive was as an unimpenetrable wall 
of adamant to them. This was not all, for after supper 
when we were around the camp-fire it seemed to draw 
from every bush and shrub a very army of ephemera, 
while many insects of grotesque shape were flying and 
darting about on all sides with resonant sounds from 
"More hideous foes than fancy can devise, 
With helmet heads and dragon scales adorned." 
We could outline many of them with positive distinct- 
ness. Noticeable were the owlet moths in their somber 
colors, numbers of which singed their wings and in the 
fire perished. Then a host of flies and midgets would 
frequently dash in our faces as the light attracted them, 
and by way of variety a few beetles of the raptorial and 
tiger class, out sight-seeing, would venture within the 
bounds of the flaming circle, as woidd also a species 
called the lantern flies, which have very luminous bodies, 
while a step or two in the shade would develop a vast 
army of fireflies that beautified the night with their flash- 
ing radiance, as did some small, bright-colored bugs 
called "tree hoppers," belonging to the same luminous 
family. Nearly every morning, when shaking our blan- 
kets, we would see numerous little agile creatures spring 
and jump away. These are called springtails and are de- 
graded, nerve-winged insects, unable to fly. 
There is no end to insect life here, which comes quickly 
in the spring when the sun warms the face of nature. As 
the season is short some of the small flies appear in 
swarms while the snow is yet on the ground. Many of 
these insects, strange as it may seem, hybernate under 
the snow. No wonder the northern latitudes are so 
numerously populated with innumerable insects that 
make life a misery. Even in Alaska the Indians, when 
coursing a river, have frequently to make a smudge in 
their canoes for protection against the insectivorous 
horde. 
We concluded, after we had arranged for an early start 
in the morning, weather permitting, of course, to seek 
our beds within the inclosure of the netting as the best 
method of defeating the bloody intentions of these pirati- 
cal pests who seek the silent hours of darkness to do their 
sanguinary work. 
We slept delightfully that night, indifferent to the 
noisy war songs of the vampirish tribe, who beat and 
beat in vain against the delicate woven texture which to 
us was a perfect fortification. Ales. Starbuck. 
[to be concluded next week.] 
Landlocked Salmon in Dan Hole Ponds. 
Mr. Joseph Murphy, the well-know comedian, re- 
cently made a find that will interest every disciple of 
Izaak Walton. For the past seven summers Mr. and Mrs. 
Murphy have spent the season at the Carroll House in 
Ossipee, N. H. The town of Oasipee lies five hours' ride 
from Boston on the B. & M. R. R. and affords the first 
glimpse the tourist gets of the mountains on his way 
through the White Mountain region. Ossipee is dotted 
with lakes of all sizes up to ten miles in length. Two of 
the wildest and most unfrequented of these are two bodies 
of water known as Dan Hole Ponds. They are high up 
among the Ossipee Mountains and fed by cold springs 
and one small mountain brook. The outlet is high and 
the larger lake is 150ft. deep in many places. 
About twelve years ago the State stocked these ponds 
with 50,000 landlocked salmon fry. Nothing has been 
done about them since, except by the mountaineers of 
the region. They have blown them up with dynamite, 
speared them on the spawning beds and salted them 
down by the barrel, besides going "trout fishing" in the 
brook where they have taken four and six-inch salmon 
by the hundreds. In all the twelve years not a single 
salmon has been caught with hook and line. The natives 
had fished in vain, and had told others, "They won't 
bite." 
The difficulty was that they did not use the right tackle 
nor fish during the salmon season. After listening to the 
stories of the natives for six summers Mr. Murphy deter- 
mined to try his own luck at fishing in the Dan Hole 
Ponds. In company with Mr. Hure, proprietor of the 
Carroll House, he went down to the ponds and began 
trolling. Almost at the first cast he landed a landlocked 
salmon weighing 8£lbs. and soon after one that tipped 
the scales at 141bs. Two days later he captured his lar- 
gest salmon, which weighed 15ilbs. and measured 33in. 
in length. A day or two later he took another 1 l^lbs. in 
weight. 
Mr. Murphy has fished from Maine to the Golden Gate, 
and from New Orleans to the Canadian lakes, and he 
says that these were the gamiest fish that he ever took. 
Before he could make another visit the salmon had gone 
down into deep water. Mr. Murphy had a very pleasant 
letter from Joe Jefferson, of Buzzard's Bay, in regard to 
his "find." Mr. Jefferson wrote that the largest land- 
locked salmon that he ever took weighed but 61bs. It is 
more than probable that Mr. Jefferson will visit Dan Hole 
Ponds next May and try his hand in this new fishing 
ground. 
The State Fish Commissioners met here July 15 to 
investigate the ponds and arrange about protecting the 
brook and spawning beds. 
Mr. Murphy has painted the four salmon in oil, life 
size, and they may be seen in the office of the Carroll 
House, at Ossipee. Many inquiries have been received in 
regard to the ponds and much interest shown by fisher- 
men who have heard of this new fishing ground. 
Edwin O. Grover. 
Tim Pond. 
EUSTIS, Me., July 19. — I was at Tim Pond fifteen years 
ago and had fine fishing. As they have had so many 
visitors since then I supposed the fish must have gone, 
like those of other waters; but to my surprise it is as 
good as ever. My friend Tracy and I caught, between 6 
and 8 o'clock on the 17th, 170, and on the Igfeh (6 to b) 130 
from one boat. Let me add that all but twenty -five were 
returned to the water. They ran in weight from 4 to 8oz. 
A, B. Carpenter. 
