July 14, 1894.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
27 
it was absolutely necessary to stop because my arm was 
2in. too short, the fish would make a splurge as though 
some one had turned a pail around just under the water, 
and off he would go. This is more likely to happen in 
the middle of the day. Then, too, is the time when they 
play with the flies, leaping over them or nipping at the 
feathers lightly as they follow up the cast. Usually the 
ouananiche is a savage biter, and his leaps from the water 
are astounding after he is hooked. 
The scenery here is the scenery of virgin forest of fir, 
spruce, larch and white and yellow birch, disposed upon 
rocky islands in the midst of rapid waters or upon flat 
marsh land or rolling hills. There is no end of other fish- 
ing to be had. Dore and brochet are abundant. Lake 
trout are to be found in certain places, and brook trout 
swarm in almost all of the streams and small lakes. 
The country is intensely ^French and few of the "hab- 
itans" speak any English. Yesterday I found one who 
could. I was fishing for trout on the Ouitchouaniche and 
asked one of the natives, who came down to look on, if 
there were large trout in that stream. He said, "Hyes, 
sir. Ze summer last, one Eenglishman name Meesty 
Thompson come up from New York and she cotch trout 
weigh two poun', prob'ly poun' an' a 'alf law baw." 
In 8'ime of the large streams there are very large trout. 
It is a common thing to catch them weighing more than 
41bs. apiece with the fly in the spring fishing, or on par- 
ticularly favorable days in summer. The ouananiche 
that we are catching weigh from £ to 51bs. each. The 
smaller ones, ranging up to ii^lbs. in weight, are taken at 
almost any time, on any sort of day. The largest ones are 
caught when the conditions are best for catching big 
trout. I am told that the ouananiche do not remain con- 
tinually at the surface a little later in the season, but since 
I have been here there has been hardly a moment when 
they were not somewhere visible in their haunts, either 
leaping or rolling like porpoises in the great circling 
beds of creamy foam at the foot of the roaring, spray- 
flying rapids. ROBERT T. MORRIS. 
Lake St. John, Juds 24. 
A DRIVE ON THE " SAULKETCHE." 
I spell, the name as it is locally pronounced. On my 
chart the stream on which I have just passed a delightful 
day is spelled Salkahatchee, that is at a short distance 
from its source not far from Aiken, S. 0., but after a 
winding, crooked course to the southward and eastward, 
transforming on its way thousands of acres of sand lands 
into fertile ootton and grain fields, and great forests of 
oak and pine, and furnishing backwater for the irrigation 
of square miles of rice field*, when it empties into the sea 
at St. Helena Sound, its name is the Cambahee. 
As the only fresh- water river of any importance 
traversing this section of the country and emptying 
among the channels of the Sea Islands in this vicinity, it 
is naturally the favored resort of anadromous fishes of all 
kinds in their season. In early spring the shad seek it, 
and in turn sturgeon, striped bass, squeteague (called 
trout here), mullet, and at all times perch (red-breasted), 
bream, catfish and others, with a fair stock of fresh-water 
cooters and a few alligators. Thus all tastes are met, and 
the people in the vicinity have at least one unfailing 
source of food. There are undoubtedly many routes to 
the stream; one is per the Charleston & Savannah Rail- 
road, stopping off at Salkahatchie station, and driving in 
a short distance; another reaching about the same part 
of the stream, by leaving the Port Royal & Augusta train 
at Yemassee, thence by a five-mile drive to Rum Bluff on 
the river. This is the route by which I reached it. 
The C. & S. and P. R. & A. roads cross each other at 
Ypmassee, and with their sidings and dependencies form 
a bewildering tangle from which the unwary traveler, 
landing for a short constitutional, is lucky to escape by 
the train he meant to take. Detention means a weary- 
ing wait of many hours. For to the stranger there is 
little of interest at Yemassee. He may tramp down to the 
big artesian well or through the piny woods and get all 
the fun lie can out of the small darkies who peddle water 
lilies. But he will be mighty glad when train time 
comes. There is a trick in the trade of water-lily ped- 
dling. Evidently there is a lily~trust, for not a bunch can 
be bought while the train is in at less than a nickel; they 
are too scarce and hard to get. But hardly is the train 
off before the boys are pelting each other with the left- 
over bunches, for which a cent each will be gladly taken, 
for in the ponds, unfortunately too close by, are millions 
of them. I say unfortunately, for it is these ponds and 
the rice marshes which have prevented in Yemassee the 
development usual to railroad influence. Malaria — and 
formerly country fever — keep it down to a few hamlets. 
The country fever of late years has diminished, undoubt- 
edly on account of the substitution by the natives of 
artesian well water for surface wells — pure water versus 
microbes. 
Howpvor, if one is hungry he need not hesitate to 
patronize the uninviting shanty over which a sign of 
"Restaurant" appears. My first adventure in getting left 
at Yemassee cost me seven hours' delay; and as a perfect 
stranger I had no resource but this shanty. I most thor- 
oughly enjoyed the luncheon. To be sure, everything was 
fried — shad, eggs, ham, potatoes, rice, etc., but they were 
fried well. The night before I had come into Charleston 
on one of the Clyde steamers from New York, and after 
late hours in the smoking room, I had turned out at day- 
break to see the captain take her over the bar and into 
port. So I was sleepy as well as hungry, and fell into a 
doze in the waiting room. I slept about fifteen minutes, 
just five too many, for my train came and went. 
To pass the time I had endeavored to persuade a couple 
of negroes with carts to drive me over to the Salkahatchee, 
to see the stream, and if possible the hauling of the shad 
nets. But singularly, I thought, money as far as I could 
afford to go, wouldn't tempt them. 
Several white men, with whom I attempted conversa- 
tion, were very reserved, and even uncivil, and for some 
reason, I was apparently a very unpopular man. As I 
was new to the country, I attributed this to my Loyal 
Legion button, but I was mistaken; and for that matter, 
during the long period^nearly three years— that I have 
lived in South Carolina I have always worn it, and never 
have had cause to regret having done so. 
While I was at luncheon several white men were seated 
at a table near me, and some of them were noisily angry 
with somebody. "If any spy comes nosing around my 
nets he'll get a hole in him sure." I began to take interest 
in the conversation. The looks, as well as the remarks, 
were very pointedly at me, and it dawned upon me that I 
was the spy they were discussing. Affairs were warming 
up, and I would willingly have been out of that, when 
there entered a gentleman, evidently a man of influence, 
and fortunately a man of sense. He came over to me 
and pleasantly opened conversation, and soon found out 
just who I was, and where I was going, namely, to visit 
the officer then commanding this station Then he intro- 
duced me to the others, and in a short time the clouds 
cleared away. 
It had so happened that but a few days before, another 
man, stranger as I was, and left by his train as I was, 
attempted as I did to hire a darky to drive him to the 
river, and succeeded. As a result of his visit several of 
the shad fishermen, who were illegally hauling their nets 
on a closed day, were caught in the act, arrested and 
fined some $50 each. As the day of my stopping over 
was also a closed day, the inference that I too was a spy 
and informer was but natural, and I think the chances 
were very favorable for my being a subject for lynching 
but for the action of my then new acquaintance, and 
now friend, Captain William Elliott. My late enemies 
became friends; and had I participated freely in their 
peace offerings I should, I fear, have violated one of the 
naval regulations, for I can't stand corn whisky. 
"Come up by No. 6 on Wednesday, and we'll try the 
river," came over the wires, signed Elliott; and on Wed- 
nesday No. 6 carried me and my fishing traps, consisting 
of split-bamboo, bait rod, and large hooks, for we were to 
fish for striped bass, of which there were tales of large 
ones. 
At 2 P. M. Elliott met me with his buggy, and a short 
drive into the woods landed us at his house, where his 
wife and family made me very welcome, and provisioned 
me for the trip with a very good dinner. The young 
ladies, who are expert anglers, did not admire my outfit 
as I thought they would. They preferred their own, 
which they showed me — simple cane rods, with short 
lines, on which "bobs" were used. I didn't exactly see 
how, but waited to learn. Asked if I had ever "bobbed," 
I said yes at random, connecting the process with old- 
time bobbing for eels with a bunch of worms. I learned 
something new on this trip. 
As we drove to Elliott's house through the forest, it was 
pitiable to note the immense number of great oaks and 
pines lying prostrate in windrows, showing where the 
fiercer of the many little tornadoes, which accompanied 
the great storm of Aug. 27-28, 1893, had swept their way 
through. There was not one alone, but many such tracks, 
with wide spaces between where hardly a tree had suf- 
fered. About half way from the station to his house has 
been located a steam sawmill, which is making profitable 
business in cutting up the down thrown trees. 
The house seemed to me delightfully situated, on a high 
clearing among the pines and oaks; but the young people, 
who miss the many fine trees they have known from their 
childhood, do not now so consider it. During the storm 
many trees crushed down their fences, filled their yard 
and ruined their garden; but fortunately spared the house, 
where they sat through that fearful night in constant ex- 
pectation of death, until one of the young ladies thought 
to allay the anxiety of the youngsters by reading to them 
stories, and so quieted them. 
After dinner we started for the river, a delightful drive 
of about three miles through the forest, passing quite a 
settlement of neat and well-kept farms, and further on 
places made memorable to the natives by the events 
attending the passage of Sherman's army, which biv- 
ouacked here. 
The country we passed through was delightfully wild 
and, except the little village mentioned, uninhabited; yet 
on all sides of us were the sites of great plantations, 
which before the war were the homes of many of the 
wealthiest planters of the South, and here and there 
among the underbrush, could we have penetrated it, we 
would have found the remains as ruins of many noble 
mansions, whose brick had gone to build chimneys for 
cabins which the woodwork had built. Living on these 
plantations in winter, in Beaufort or in the mountains in 
summer, to enjoy the sea breezes of the fox-mer or the 
coolness of the latter, these planters lost more than can 
be imagined. Poverty has replaced wealth. Who can 
wonder that bitterness still exists toward those who they 
honestly thought were wrong in despoiling them? 
About 4 P. M. we reached the banks of the river at 
Rum Bluff, where our boats, long flat-bottoms, awaited 
us. Rum Bluff is so named because in the olden days it 
was at this point that the white traders landed and sold 
rum and other necessaries to the, Yemassee Indians, whose 
principal village was in the vicinity. In the choice they 
showed good taste, for the s'tuation is both pleasant and 
picturesque — a grass-covered level plateau some eight 
or ten feet above the water, and at a bend in the stream 
into which it juts as a cape, completely encircled with 
large shade trees, which we appreciated at luncheon 
hour. 
The road by which we approached Rum Bluff was at 
one part an ex valley of the river and at many places was 
bordered by dams with no apparent purpose. But the 
Saulketche has a way of changing its channel every now 
and then, and when these dams were built they were to 
make a reserve of back water to irrigate, as required, the 
ricefields. 
At the Bluff we prepared for fishing. The stream was 
30 or 40yds. wide and here, as in many places, ran over a 
high yellow sand bank, giving shoal water, and sloping 
abruptly into a deep channel. Over the sand bank more 
or less mullet were running, some of goodly proportions, 
such in fact as would have suited the Edisto bride, who, 
seated for the first time at a dinner of one of our best New 
York hotels, discontentedly sighed for "one of them good 
fat mullets like we had at home." Now and then, too, 
there slid along the shoal, but not on it, a good-sized 
striped bass. 
I hurried my tackle together, but there came a disap- 
pointment. Elliott had arranged with a colored brother 
to be on hand with plenty of live bait and a box of worms. 
Neither materialized, and all we had to fish with was 
about a dozen worms, so thin that it was only by good 
care that they could be put on the hook. However, we 
started, he in the stern paddling, I in the bow casting, 
and as we dropped down the river the scenery was beauti- 
ful, One small strike, a lOin. catfish, finished the last of 
our bait. Then, being a believer in the good saying, "It 
is not all of fishing to fish," we drifted along down the 
river, then turned, Elliott having rigged his bob and 
taught me to use it. The bob was simply a Buel spinner 
No. 2 attached by swivel to a line 2ft, long, and this to the 
end of a cane pole. To use it the end of the pole was, by 
the man in the bow, swept to and fro across and ahead of 
the bow, skittering a series of curves as we advanced. On 
getting a strike the pole must be jerked backward, any 
upward movement forbidden. 
Well, we bobbed until nearly back to the Bluff. Then 
when I had ceased to expect, a striped bass of perhaps 4 
or 51bs. accepted the challenge, threw himself half out of 
water as he struck, and entirely back again as he promptly 
let go; for, as was to be expected, my strike was the usual 
old-fashioned upward one, and utterly wrong. That fin- 
ished the day's fishing. As a pleasant afternoon it was a 
success, as a fishing excursion rather a failure. Engaging 
from quite a number of reliable colored brethren a good 
supply of live bait for the morrow, we drove home. 
Elliott, who had more experience and less faith than I 
in the prospect of live bait, and was determined that I 
should not go home empty-handed, did his best that even- 
ing to organize a "drive" for the next day. 
Ordinarily a drive, which is a species of aquatic picnic, 
is arranged for some time in advance, that there may be 
a good strong working force on hand, for there is lots of 
work in it. Neighbors from near and far join in and share 
the results. But there was on this occasion too little time 
to reach many of them; and of those reached many had 
other business, so it was but a corporal's guard of us who 
met on the Bluff the next morning. There were no ladies, 
for reasons which soon became evident- 
Placing the seine in one of the long batteaux, we 
paddled down the river to the mouth of Alligator Lake, 
four boats of us. This so-called lake is simply a long 
narrow bay, the remains of a former channel of the river, 
now blocked up at its further end. Here the seine was 
set, then all hands except a couple of seine tenders 
paddled up the river about an eighth of a mile, and having 
before leaving the Bluff assumed a uniform slightly more 
decollete than that of the Georgia Major — for he wore spurs 
— our men wore only hats, with in some cases an under- 
shirt to protect the shoulders from the sun; nearly all 
hands jumped overboard and sticking to the deep water 
channels which skirted the sand banks made all the row 
possible, striking the bottom with staves, the surface with 
paddles; and thus drove before them great schools of fish, 
while the batteaux paddled over the shoals to prevent 
running. It was exciting work. We could, see no end 
of fine bass, some of great size; and the seine tenders as 
we closed up were sure ©f 200 at least. But alas, one of 
the two seines was defective, the bottom leading not 
heavy enough. It lifted, and most of our flock escaped. 
We saved only a couple of dozen of from 2 to 51bs. weight, 
that had jammed themselves into the bag, or gilled them- 
selves. Two more hauls were made, with but moderate 
success. 
On many of the sand banks were seen the circular spawn- 
ing places, like ant heap rings a yard wide, of red-breasted 
perch and bream; and going to and fro from them were 
a few of the fish. It is a practice of some of the men and 
boys in this locality, undeterred by any law, to take ad- 
vantage of the habit which these fish have of removing 
all debris from their beds. Hiding in the brush near by 
they cast baited hooks into the beds, with a long line; the 
fish pick up the hooks at once, and are thus caught in 
thousands. The usual results of this system are beginning 
to appear; for some reason which they say is unknown to 
them the fishing "isn't half what it used to be." 
Although I spent this day so pleasantly— the first day 
for years that I have spent on fresh water — I was still on 
tide water, and in the setting of the seines, and in bob- 
bing, the state of the tide has to be considered. The tide 
raises the water, but at this neighborhood does not allay 
its freshness; the fresh water simply flows more slowly 
and banks up against the flood, its current increasing 
with the ebb. 
On the whole I enjoyed my outing greatly, accentuated 
as it was by the hospitable welcome of the entire family, 
who made me almost feel as if I too was part owner of 
their cosy home in the woodland. Piseco. 
STORIES OF EZRA.— VI. 
They were fishing along Coon River. Ezra saw a 
screech owl stick its head out of a hole in a tree four or 
five feet from the ground. He told Mac there might be a 
wood duck's nest in that hole, and when Mac put his hand 
in the owl attacked it with bill and claws. Mac's first 
thought was of snakes, and with a yell that made the 
woods ring he jerked his hand out with the owl clinging 
to it. Mac got quite angry over it and to pacify him Ezra 
agreed to get Mac some wood duck eggs from a nest that 
was thirty feet from the ground in a gum tree. There 
were no limbs to climb up by but he cut a hickory wythe, 
and putting it round the tree and holding the ends of the 
wythe managed to climb to the nest. But Ezra's elbow 
joint was just a little too large to go into the hole. Hold- 
ing to the tree with one arm and both legs, he unbuttoned 
his shirt wristband with his teeth, and pulled up the 
sleeves of shirt and undershirt, then managed to push the 
elbow through the hole. But getting it out was another 
matter. Owing to the shape of the elbow joint and the 
hole being smaller at its inner opening, the arm would 
not come out. He had no support except by clinging to 
the body of the tree, and this required so much exertion 
that his strength would not lasb long, and when it failed 
the arm in the hole would be broken and he be left hang- 
ing by it, till a ladder could be brought two miles. Mac 
as usual saw nothing but the funny side of the case and 
laughed, and asked Ezra if he ever read about some bad 
boys who robbed birds' nests. Ezra told me afterward 
that when his strength was almost gone he turned sick 
and was just about to faint when Mac's taunts made him 
so angry that he forgot about everything else except get- 
ting to Mac and wiping up the ground with him. With 
a desperate pull the arm came out, but the flesh was 
stripped from the protruding portions of the joint till the 
white bone was laid bare, and the ligaments so sprained 
that they never fully recovered. He held on to the body 
of the tree till half way to the ground, then fell, limp as 
a rag, fortunately landing on a pile of fine brush. 
When he came to he had forgotten all about whipping 
Mac. o. H. Hampton, 
