Oct. 6, 1894.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
297 
CHICAGO AND THE WEST. 
[From a Staff Correspondent.] 
In the last issue or so of Forest and Stream I haTe 
been writing about Phantom Lake and the little village of 
Mukwonago, 86 miles north of Chicago, on the Wisconsin 
Central road. I have always had the idea that the word 
Mukwonago had in its meaning something to do with 
frogs, but Mr. Dan Camp, of Mukwonago village, son of 
one of the old settlers, is quoted to a different effect in a 
late issue of a Chicago daily. Mr. Camp's remarks are as 
follows: 
'•How this village came to be called 'Mukwonago, 1 which means in 
Pottawatomie 'the place of bears,'' I have heard my father relate 
many times as we sat before the great fireplace in our old log cabin 
not tweuty rods from where now stands the Chief officB. My father, 
H H. Camp, came to Mukwonago in '36, riding an Indian pony all the 
way from Hamburg, New York State. He with two others were the 
only 'palefaces' here in the spring of 1836, but the Indian village, Muk- 
wonago, contnined 1,200 souls, and was perhaps the largest Pottawa- 
tomie Indian village in the Territory. Tho village was a straggling 
row of wigwams along what is now the main street of the village, 
some along the river banks, and the chief, who indulged In the luxury 
of four squaws, had bis tepee just north of the Phantom Inn, near 
the cutlet of Phantom Lake. This lake was called -Nifsh-ko-Tasb,' or 
clear waters. The level plateau where the Pickering cottage stands 
was a favorite camping place of the tribe. The Indians remained here 
more or less until tne early '40s, and during the winter of '38 there 
was an old Indian across the Fox River in the heavy timber, an In- 
dian whom the tribe held in high reverence— a sort of medicine man. 
He was much bent with age, the only Indian, father says, whose tiair 
was white with age. He claimed to be 150 years old. Father is cer- 
tain he must have been nearly as old as he claimed. In course 
of one conversation, and after father had made him a present 
of some tobacco and, I apprehend, a little firewater, he told 
the story of 'the place of bears.' Long ago when he was a 
young brave, there came a year when there was no rain and game 
fled the country, making it hard for the tribe to get any big game 
such as bear, elk and deer, and the tribe, or this branch of it. which at 
that time was camped near whet is now Rochester, divided up their 
hunters, sending some up the valley of the Rock River, others up above 
the portage of the Wisconsin and Fox rivers, and some even went as 
far to the westward as the Mississippi for large game for winter sup- 
plies. All came back empty handed. As the party which had beea 
sent to the north came down the trail leading from the direction of 
Waukesha they struck the highlands where this village now stands, 
which were thickly studded with great white oaks. Now these great 
trees on the highlands extend their roots straight down into the earth, 
where they were supplied with moisture. They were green and fresh 
and bore large quantities of acorns, a food that bears greatly like. 
Here they found counties* numbers of bear, fat and sleek, and they 
killed a great many with spears and arrows— in fact, they slaughtered 
so many that it was impossible to carry them to their village. So they 
piled them up— over eighty— around a b>g white oak near here and 
concluded to move their entire village to this place, which they did, 
calling it -Mukwonago,' or -the place of bears.' This was the version 
given to my father fifty-six years ago by the old white-haired Indian, 
-so that I may safely say the villa ;e has borne the name it bears tor a 
century and a half, or before Milwaukee was thought of or the name 
of Cnicago even spoken. This is why Muk-won-a-go is known as the 
oldest Indian village in Wisconsin." 
The above lends a new interest to the sleepy little 
village near which the annual Camp Forest and Stream 
has been located for several years. There are more bass 
there now than bears, however. 
Mr. F. B. Davidson, of Chicago, writes me: 
"The trip I took down the Kankakee River proved void 
of results as far as the number of fish caught, as i struck 
the stream just after the high rains we had, and found 
the water very high and muddy, and from what I can 
learn the river is still in the same condition. 
"I received a letter yesterday from Mr. C. C, Heim- 
baugh, of Momence, in which he informs me he has been 
appointed fish warden, which I was very glad to learn, as 
the services of a warden are badly needed on the Kankakee, 
and he is one man among ten thousand for the position. 
I have known him a good many years and know that he 
is a conscientious, energetic man, and I anticipate good 
results from his appointment." 
All that Mr. Davidson says in regard to Mr. Heimbaugh 
I can cordially indorse, and I hops that under his care 
the good fishing of that famous stream may be made 
better. It has always been much subject to illegal 
methods of fishing. The popularity of the Kankakee 
with Chicago anglers dates back within the past five 
years, it being; then brought into considerable mention 
by Forest and Stream. 
Mascallonge. 
Within the past week two very fine mascallonge have 
come down from Lake Vieux Desert, cauglit by Mr. W. 
T. Holley and his party. One fish weighed 354-lbs. and 
ihe other 31Jlbs. The smaller fish was a beauty, a per- 
fect specimen of its kind. It had been packed in moss 
and had not wen near any ice, so that the colors remained 
as fresh and distinct as in life. 
From now on until the snow comes the mascallonge 
will be at its best in the Wisconsin lakes. I have sent 
three parties up for October trips, and if with the deer 
and mascallonge they cannot have sport enough to satisfy 
the most exacting taste, I am sure I, do not know where 
they can fiud what they want. E. Hoogh. 
909 Security Building, Chicago. 
THE PRIEST. 
'•William, fetch the priest!" 
It was Admiral Sir John Hopkins of H. M. steamship 
Blake who thus commanded his canoemau. 
It was an altogether strange and unexpected request for 
such a vigorous mau to make, and under such circum- 
stances. He certainly seemed to be in no immediate need 
of a spiritual adviser, for he was at the moment skilfully 
landing a fine salmon toward a convenient place for gaff- 
ing; hence I interposed with the query: 
"Wnat on earth do you want with a priest?" 
Sir John's benign countenance lost for the moment its 
look of anxiety, and his eyes twinkled merrily as he re- 
plied: 
'•Why, to administer the last consolation, don't you 
know? We call the club with which we stun our salmon 
'the priest.' " The point was obvious. 
As the fish was being tenderly placed in the canoe I 
asked another question: 
' Why do you gaff the salmon at all when you have a 
priest handy?" 
This time Sir John was at a loss to know why I asked 
such a question, so I explained. 
I rarely have my salmon gaffed; it is a disagreeable 
sight and a cruel operation, and it badly disfigures what 
Is otherwise the most beautiful object the angler ever 
sees; the gorgeously brilliant silvery-purple king of fishes 
as he appears when first taken from the water. The fish 
also keeps much better when not torn by the gaff. 
I have found that with a little extra care and patience 
the salmon may easily be led past my assistant, who wades 
into the stream a short distance, and stands ready with a 
short, slightly curved club; the fish is carefully raised to 
the surface of the water, and a little tap on the nose does 
the work in a trice; the victim instantly turns on his side 
without a strugle, a finger is placed beneath the gill cover 
and all is finished. It is better than either gaffing or net- 
ting, and is practicable in all except very swift water. 
The following is an extract irorn a letter sent to me by 
Flag Lieut. H. G. Sandeman of the Blake, under date of 
July 20, 1894, and from the Restigouche; Lieut. Sande- 
man had also been fishing with us earlier in the season 
on the St. John at Gaspe, I quote: 
"The Admiral and myself have just come down from 
the Restigouche after five days of splendid sport, The 
Admiral killed fifteen salmon, and I killed twelve, bpsides 
a goodly number of grilse. I have followed\\our plan of 
forsaking the gaff and using the 'priest,' and I did not 
lose a single fish by so doing, although some of them were 
pretty heavy, from 24 to 311bs." 
However, every salmon angler knows with what grim 
delight the old "gillie" puts the steel into his victim, and 
I presume my plan, if adopted, would lose, lots of pleasure 
for him who plays second fiddle to the fly-fisherman. 
J. F., Jr. 
Boston, Mass., Sept. 24. 
DOWN THE BAY. 
"Hello, 1953?" 
"Yes, what's wanted?" 
"Is H. there?" 
"Yes, eight here. Who is this?" 
"Scott." 
"Oh, yes. What's on your mind?" 
"Well, Bill and I are going down scup-fishing to-mor- 
row, will you go?" 
"Will I? What's the use asking such a question!" 
"Well, meet me at the store as early as possible." 
So I met "Scotty" at "the store," and a little while 
after we were on the car bound for the "shanty " 
Now, the shanty is a neat little cottage situated on the 
west bank of Pawtuxet Cove, and fortunate is the fellow 
who gets an "invite" to come down and spend a day or 
two. Things are done up brown. We found the shanty 
still there, and after straightening up a little, took one of 
the boats and rowed up to the "village" for supplies. 
When we went down to take the boat again, one to see us 
would have thought we were going on a week's cruise, 
but we knew what a hole there is under a fellow's belt 
after a day on the water, and then Bill is a terror for 
stowing away grub. 
When we reached the cottage S. started a roaring fire 
in the little stove, while I overhauled the tackle. Pretty 
soon S. asked if I wasn't about ready to eat, and looking 
up saw him sitting at the table calmly eating our clams. 
"Look here! What have you done, cooked the clams?" 
"That's what," said he, "and they are pretty fine at 
that." 
Supper over and the dishes washed, we took the lantern 
and went after shrimp, but as the tide was nearly out, 
had poor luck, and decided to wait till morning. We 
went back to the sbanty, told yarns and waited for Bill. 
It grew late. Bill didn't materialize. We both got 
about asleep, when the door opened and in walked the 
night owl, and before we were awake began to show up a 
new lancewood rod. 
"That beats a split- bamboo all hollow," said he. 
"Right," says I, and S. said nothing, but got out Bill's old 
split-bamboo, which was broken a short time before in a 
right with a tautog. and suggested that we fix it up. 
Tnat is just like S. The more rods he can have sticking 
out from a boat, the better he feels. The rod was soon 
patched up, and S. suggested we climb up and turn in. 
Bill lulled us to sleep with tales of his trip abroad, and we 
don't know how many we missed. When I came to S. 
was prancing around and Bill was trying to find his boots 
in the dark. When we got down stairs S. had the Ham- 
burgers sizzling, and began to tell B. what he had missed 
by not being on hand for supper, but he made up on the 
breakfast, and long after S. and I had finished, kept fill- 
ing up, making the. excuse that we were in too much of a 
hurry to eat. 
Breakfast over, dishes washed, and a good mess of 
shrimp caught, we loaded the little sail boat with our 
traps, and stood away for Long Meadow. The bay never 
looked prettier. White sails dotted the surface here and 
there— cats, sloops and now and then a big schooner tack- 
ing down the channel, with the sun just coming above 
the horizon, and the clouds scurrying away, made a 
panorama of never-ending interest. The fishing grounds 
were soon reached, anchor cast and everything made 
snug. On the way down we had rigged up for scup, and 
soon had the lints over. Probably a good many of the 
Forest and Stream brothers know all about this delight- 
l ul fishing, but for those who do not know just the style 
of tackle I will explain. 
A light bass rod makes the prettiest rod, and a good 
braided linen line is the proper line. Some use a double 
leader and others none at ail. For hooks we use a. small 
Carlisle with double gut snood. S. and B. both use a 
spreader to keep the hooks apart, but I prefer to attach 
mine to a leader much in the same manner as a fly-fish- 
erman, excepting that the hooks are nearer together. 
There is only one objection to a light rod, we have to use 
a fairly heavy sinker when the tide is going out and it is 
difficult to tell when one has a bite. 
As usual S. was the first to catch, but only secured a 
cunner (or chogset as we call them here). B. followed 
with a small tautog. Then S. brought in a scup and it 
rather looked as if I was "skunked." But a little while 
after they began to run and we soon had the fish bag 
nearly filled with the handsome fellows. A little astern 
of us a chap was fishing for squit, and when he at last 
secured a strike, S. and I immediately rigged for squit. A 
large hook is needed for this fish, say a 4 0 Carlisle or a 
No. 18 Cincinnati, either to gimp or treble gut. About 6 
to 8ft. up the line is fastened a large float. The hook is 
baited with a number of shrimp, and after casting out the 
line is run out and the float left bobbing lip and down. 
Our floats bobbed up and down ail right but we didn't 
get a strike. It grew rough, too, and one after another 
the boats pulled up and stood away. It grew too rough 
to fish in comfort in a small boat, and we too pulled up in 
a little while and, before the wind, scudded away toward 
home. Now and then a heavy sea broke over us, wetting 
everything, but with reliable B, at the tiller we felt 
secure. Twice the sea "pooped" us, and poor B. in the 
stern sheets got the full benefit of the salt bath. My, how 
that little boat did pitch and roll. I began to think of 
Block Island and the seasick time we had there, when 
Bill said he was glad we had a good headway or he 
should be keeled over, but we reached the shanty with no 
mishap, and after a short smoke, a change of clothes and 
a few more yarns, I left S. and B., boarded an electric 
and "stood up" for home. Tode. 
Providence, R. I., Sept. 24. 
CAUGHT BY A FISH. 
Jamestown, N. Y, Sept. 28.— Editor Forest and 
Stream: When a person starts out to catch a fish it 
seldom happens that the fish catches him. Yet this was 
the case of Peter Willman, of Jamestown, N. Y. Chau- 
tauqua Lake, near that city, is noted the world over for 
its large and fine mascalonge, sometimes weighing as 
high as 501bs., and it was with one of these monster 
"lunge" that Mr. Willman had his experience. This is 
the story as told me by an eye witness: 
Mr. Willman and Mr. Wilson, a friend of his, went up 
the lake to troll for mascalonge. The day was fine, the 
waves were dancing in the noonday sun as these two 
friends stepped into their little trolling boats and rowed 
out on to the lake. They had fished for some time and 
were some distance apart trolling over the weeds around 
a small island near the center of the lake. Mr. Willman 
had his trolling line tied to his leg. On a sudden he felt 
a mighty pull at the other end of the line, as if he had 
hooked a mule that pulled at the halter. He hung to 
the seat of the boat to keep from being pulled over- 
board. After a time the fish eased up and Mr. Willman 
began to haul in line. The fish came along all right till 
he saw the boat, which seemed to excite him somewhat, 
and he suddenly made up his mind that he would go the 
other way, which he did till he came to the end of the 
line, when he did not stop, but towed the boat around for 
a while. He soon tired of this and Mr. Willman pulled 
him up again and succeeded in hauling him into the boat. 
Then a fierce struggle took place. Some of the time Mr. 
Willman was on top, sometimes the fish. Both got ex- 
cited and capsized the boat. 
Here the advantage lay with the fish. He towed Will- 
man away from the boat and proceeded to do him up 
with the line. He swam around and round bis body, 
passed between his legs till he had him laced up like a 
shoe. In the meantime Willman had taken a death grip 
on one of his oars that was floating by. Wilson saw the 
struggle that was going on and started to the rescue. 
When he arrived on the scene Willman was out of sight. 
He saw the handle of an oar come up which he grasped, 
and pulled up and found Willman holding to the other 
end for life. His eyes were set and as he pulled him into 
the boat his head fell back and to all appearances life was 
extinct. Wilson went to work to bring him to, which he 
succeeded in doing in a short time. He unwound the line 
from Willman's body and legs and then turned his atten- 
tion to the fish which was out with about fifteen feet of 
line. He landed the fish, which was nearly exhausted by 
it9 efforts to drown Willman and regain his liberty. 
Only for the timely arrival of Wilson, Willman's name 
would have been McGinty. The fish weighed 38llbs. 
The above may read a little fishy hut this scene actually 
happened on Chautauqua. Lake September 12, 1894. 
Frank W. Cheney. 
"Surf Fishing in New Jersey." 
Morristown, N. J., Sept. zl.— Editor Forest and 
Stream: Mr. A. N. Cheney certainly gave us good measure 
when in this week's Forest ainD Stream he so graphically 
described the every-day "angling" editor ot the daily 
paper. 
It was too bad he had not made the acquaintance of 
the scribe who sent you the valuable note ot Mr. William 
W. Hart's "Surf Fisning in New Jersey," That Mr. H. 
did catch some 3lbs. bluefish we are not called upon to 
doubt, but that is not "good surf fishing." That he, 
however, cast 250ft. into the surf with a "light surf pole, 
common bass fine and reel and an 8oz. sinker," I feel 
somewhat competent to deny. 
How few people realize that the majority of summer 
fishermen who "do" their vacations on the Jersey coast 
never cast over 100 ft., and that if any one will measure 
off 250ft. accurately, he will then for the first time realize 
how much further the measured distance is than the one 
he guessed at over the water. Your correspondent was 
possibly competent to write of "plaice, a large species of 
flounder," and why, pray, did he not stick to what he 
knew instead of inflicting such stuff on an unsuspecting 
public? To me, one of the great features of Forest and 
Stream for over twenty years past has been its reliability , 
and it seems an injustice that such a report as the above 
should go unchallenged. Let this be my excuse for writ- 
ing. Big Reel. 
Oil in the Delaware. 
Newark, N. J., Sept. 28.— Editor Forest and Stream: 
In your last issue I noticed a communication in regard to 
the emptying of waste oil by the Standard Oil Company 
into the Delaware River and its tributaries. I spent a 
week in the stream when shad were running in the Del- 
aware River in that vicinity, and was surprised to nnd 
that the Ash caught in the river were unfit for food or at 
least were not palatable to any one who knows what 
shad ought to be. The flesh had a most disagreeable 
taste, although the fish were fine looking when taken 
from the water. I find upon inquiry that this was the 
experience of many who caught or purchased fish, and 
the cause was alleged to be the oils which tne refineries 
were emptying into the river. It seems to me that a con- 
dition of this kind calls for some summary action, on the 
part^of some one, as the continual, pollution of the river 
in this manner will eventually destroy the fish as an 
article of food, if not permanently annihilate them. 
L. D. H. Gilmour. 
Ouananiche Scores. 
Some recent catches at Lake St. John are the following: 
Sept. 12, at Grand Discnarge, Walter A. Wood, Jr., 
Hoosick Fails, N. Y, 12 fish, largest ±Ubs., total catch 
weighed ll91bs.; G. H. Nichoiis, Jr., also of Hoosick Falls, 
caught same day 15 fish, largest 4lbs., total weight 211bs. ; 
F. W. Rawle, of Pniladelphia, 11 fish, largest 31bs., total 
weight 191bs. , caught at Isle Maline; Dr. Wamuel Snnth, of 
Ballston opa, N. Y, 12 fish, largest 41bs., total weight 
20ilbs., caught at Grand Discharge; Sept. 14, Wm. Glid- 
den, New Castle, Me., 66 fish, largest diDs.-, total weight 
9llbs., caught at Grand Discharge. 
