208 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
March 16, 1895. 
Saranac Lake; Thos. Redwood, Paul Smiths, Miles Ken- 
nedy, Lak^ Placid; Isaac Gabattis, Long Lake; Wesley 
Wood, Ssranac Inn; Ernest H. Johnson, Tupper Lake; 
Secretary, John H. Millar; Treasurer, Warren J. Slater 
Executive Committee, E. E. Sumner, Geo. E. Johnson, 
Thos. Healy, A. B, Moody, Douglas E. Martin, Rawson 
Hayes, Fred. Rorke, Albert Billings, Marshal) Lamoy, 
Chas, C. Robinson, Carlos D. G-ilson, "E. J. F. Den- 
mark," James Bean, Chas. McCaffery, and Daniel 
Hinkson. Wm. F. Maxim. 
ANGLING OLD AND NEW. 
The followers of Izaak Walton, at both sides of the 
Atlantic, look to the Forest and Stream for guidance 
in the "gentle art," nor do tbey look in vain. Skilled 
writers, -with facile pens, lead us pleasantly through 
its columus to pastures new and vistas fair — so pleasantly 
that the busy man, whatever his profession, whatever 
his daily task, or the man of leisure, whatever his 
hobby, is brought, in imagination, to happy fishing 
grounds. The filling in of details in the picture, the 
choice of rod and fly, the mode of bringing to land this 
fish or that, the whole picturesqueness of the scene in 
forest and stream is written indelibly on his mind. 
My present object is in another direction, viz. , by giv- 
ing an account of results of experience in old days in 
the old country to show that, while we, in modern 
times, in new lands may have to go far afield for sport 
we can get it abundantly and on reasonable terms. 
One has to go back to early boyhood, to the "bent pin" 
stage "for sticklebacks, " or to the more advanced period 
of angling with float and line with worm or other bait 
and rough, unbending rod, for perch or chub to show 
how deep-rooted, how intense is our love of fishing. Or 
may we not refer to the less creditable plan of campaign, 
in summer days, when these means of capture failed — 
the "tickling" trout as they lay on the gravel bottom 
of some secluded brook; or "snaring" pike as, asleep in 
their moss bed in some dreamy lake, the wire noose was 
gently placed over their heads. 
How I remember a monster pike, when I imagined I 
had him firmly noosed behind the fins, with, a wag of 
his tail and a dash from his place of rest, shattering my 
fondest hopes as he swam forth to freedom in the broad 
waters of the lake. 
More creditable and more effective was the trout fish- 
ing in mountain stream and clearing water after rain, 
with rod and '* bramble, " worm or caddis bait. What 
monsters, in our young eyes, we took ! Far advanced, 
we considered we were in the gentle art, when, on the 
well-earned holiday, we waked from dawn till dark in 
search of a heard-of, distant stream in Southern Ireland, 
its deep pools, the "summer resort" of trout ; its banks, 
the home of the otter, the secluded haunt of the water 
ousel and the sedge warbler. How eagerly we climbed 
each hill, expecting as we reached its top, to see the 
long-sought stream I How frequently were we disap- 
pointed I The sun was sinking fast, when on inquiry, 
a "hedge school-master" informed us that "there was a 
'pearly rill' in yonder valley. " 
Those were the days when the "itinerant pedagogue" 
taught his apt scholars the "three R's" under the vil- 
lage hedge, hence the name. 
This to us, however, was no time to use the poetic 
words, ' ' pearly rill. ' ' Our well-earned holiday had 
almost ended before we could ' ' wet the line. ' ' One 
small trout was our total "take. " As the weary school- 
boy counted the Irish miles — every mile being ' ' a mile 
and a bit" — on our return journey. 
Bacon says that ' ' travel in the younger sort is a part 
of education ; in the elder, a part of experience. ' ' May 
we not hope that, in this day of ' ' travel" and ' ' travail, ' ' 
our education was not neglected. 
Our mentor and guide, in those fishing days, was the 
village tailor — tailor by trade and Tailor by name. He 
tied the "killing fly, " spliced the hroken rod ; he ad- 
vised as to the time and place of our venture, whether 
to use the "natural" fly (by "dropping — a local term), 
or the artificial ; whether up stream or down — and he 
was strong on the subject of giving the pool a "rest" 
after the capture of each "monster" — a monster in those 
days was a half pound trout. The object of this rest 
was to enable our Tailor guide to drink our health and 
his own in the ' 1 wine of the country, " " potheen. ' ' He 
was also an advocate for evening fishing with the white 
moth fly. This afforded him opportunity by daylight 
to repair the breaks in our nether garments resulting 
from the previous night's fishing. 
One such occasion will long be remembered. An elder 
brother and myself had sought the bank of the pictur- 
esque river magne for evening fishing. We could sing : 
When day, declining, shed^ a milder gleam, 
What timn the M iy-fly hauuts the pool or .stream, 
Waen the still owl skims round the grassy mend, 
What time the timorous here limps forth to feed, 
Then be the time to steal adown the vale. 
The tailor stuck close to the elder brother for, I suppose, 
the good reawn that he, the elder brother, carried the 
flask, I, instead, having the only landing net of the 
party Night had well set in when the loud and fre- 
quent call of "landing nef'aroused me from my reverie, 
and I set forth at a quicker pace than "the double" to 
the spot whence emanated the call. Losing the path in 
the dark, I fell headlong into a quarry, and nearly lost 
my place in the family circle. My feeble cries for help, 
happily, came to the ear of my companions, and the 
much-despised flask was needed to restore conscious- 
ness. 
Another fishery guide in those days was the well- 
known "Pat," a Curragh of Kildare celebrity. After 
the daily camp military parade, Pat was sure to turn 
up to find out the "gintlemen" who were desirous of 
"goin' a fishing" in the River Liffee, that bright, 
crystal river that flows so gracefully through dear, dirty 
Dublin. 
Of course, Pat used every argument in order to 
prevail upon his eager listeners to accompany him to the 
river bank. ' ' This is a murdering day, ' ' he would say 
— "Blood will be spilt this day!" And perhaps the 
total net result — "blood spilt" — of the flogging the 
waters of the river Liffee by many on that particular 
day would be an average of one small trout per rod. 
Having enthused his listeners and convinced them that 
this was the day for the slaughter of trout, the question 
arose as to the fly. 
A dozen flybooks were produced, but, of course, a fly 
that Pat possessed — not to be found in the books — was 
the fly of the day. The hairy worm (palmer), the 
orange grouse, or the hare's ear, each had its turn. I 
must admit that I had one good day, or rather night, 
under Pat's guidance. It was after heavy rain, in mid- 
summer. The flood was clearing. Pat and I sallied 
forth for evening fishing. Light flsh were selected. We 
drove to a remote part of the river, if such it could be 
called. For about two hours we were kept busy, in 
mid river, without wading boots, or wading trousers. 
It was before such things were considered necessary. I, 
with rod and line ; he, with landing net ; and I had 
filled my basket with nice herring-sized trout, when the 
trout suddenly ceased to rise, and we returned to camp. 
At another time and place I had equally good sport 
salmon trout fishing. A keen sportsman, a good all-round 
fellow and myself proceeded by Biancony's celebrated 
car, to the river Feal (pronounced Fail), in the king- 
dom of Kerry. After a tedious night'B journey and a 
good breakfast of bacon and eggs (a dish that never fails 
to satisfy), we commenced fishing at early morn, he 
with a salmon trout rod and special large flies; I with 
light trout rod and small trout flies. A fishing warden 
appeared on the scene, and my friend, owing to his 
superior equipmeut, had to pay for a year's license for a 
day's fishing, while I, with my less conspicuous rod 
and flies, only fishing for common brook trout, was not 
called upon to pay for a license. It proved, however, the 
old story over again, fine tackle was more successful 
than coarse. 
The warden, supposing that my friend was a bloated 
aristocrat, with lots of coin, accompanied him up stream 
and, no doubt expecting a tip, pointed out all the good 
casts I, in my humility, followed slowly, keeping at 
a respectful distance from the representtive of law and 
justice. I soon found that my friend, in his casts, had 
but "wetted the appetite" of the salmon trout, the fish 
rising short. When I cast, on the contrary, the hungry 
fish eagerly took my small flies. I had as good a fore- 
noon's sport as man could desire, and, when, the war- 
den left, on comparing notes as to size and weight of 
fish, the comparison was odious to my friend. 
On referring to fine tackle versus coarse, I must, for 
a moment, quit the soil of old Ireland and take the gen- 
tle reader across the channel, from Waterford to Pem- 
brookshire, South Wales, aland abounding in small trout 
streams. On these I soon learnt, in its minuest detail, 
the art of fishing with the lightest rod, with the finest 
possible tackle and in the most careful possible manner. 
On the last named point Charles Kingsley well says : 
"You will agree that there is more cunning, more 
science and therefore more pleasant excitement in "fox- 
ing" a great fish out of the stop hole than in whipping 
far and wide over in open stream where a half pounder 
is a wonder and a triumph. " As for physical exertion, 
you are able to compute for yourself how much your 
back, knees and forearm will ache after some ten hours 
of this scrambling, splashing, leaping and kneeling, upon 
a hot June day. ' ' 
It was when on a hurried visit to St. David's Cathe- 
dral, a church of intense interest historically and archi- 
tecturally, situated far from the railway and from the 
route of the tourist and globe trotter, I observed several 
large trout, in the smallest of brooks flowing through 
the cathedral grounds. I asked the berger's permission 
to fish. He replied that there was no necessity for a 
permit, he had not known fish to be caught there. In 
company with this dignitary of the church, I was soon 
ready for my first cast, with a good supply of South 
Wales flies, smoky duns, cock-a-bouddhes, screamers. 
Scarcely had my flies touched the water when I was "in 
him. ' ' I had hooked a good-sized trout, and it was 
only by holding" the now excited berger by the collar 
that I could prevent his jumping headlong into the 
stream to secure for me the well-hooked trout. When 
I had hooked and landed a dozen such trout, however, 
his excitement had abated, and before many hours he 
found that carrying my well -filled basket of trout was no 
easy task. I doubt, however, whether the bishop of St. 
David's would recognize the usually dignified and 
grave berger in the cheery little man carrying the well- 
filled basket. 
I had varied sport in these Welsh streams. As a rule, 
the trout were small and hard to get. 
It is a matter of history, the killing of a two-pound 
trout in a stream near a certain station, Whitland, on 
the South Wales Railway, and I believe that the size and 
shape of this monster trout remains to this day cut on 
a bench at this wayside station— a prudent precaution, 
it may be said, as otherwise, after the manner of men 
telling fishy after dinner stories, the taker of this 
"monster" might have added considerably to the size 
and weight of this fish, and there would be an undoubted 
exception to the rule of "history repeating itself. " 
I must add a word regarding fishing in modern times 
in this new land, North America, as a striking contrast 
to the foregoing, and give the following extract from 
my note book, as :o a day on the well-known trout 
stream in New Brunswick, the Tabusintack. Meeting 
a guide on his rounds, with a day to spare for any emer- 
gency, and he being as good a companion as he is a 
sportsman, we talked of sport in general and fishing in 
particular. Neither had heretofore experience of excess 
in quantity of fish. We had heard of the fish "jostling 
each other" like snipe in an Irish bog, in the stream in 
question, and we resolved to try our hand there. It was 
not until we reached the river bank that we discovered 
that our guide (a woodland farmer, living close by) 
had a novel sort of dugout canoe, with shafts attached, 
drawn by a horse over sand bars, up and down stream. 
But why this barrel on board? And why this bag of 
salt? It was soon explained that the barrel had, during 
the day, to be packed full of two pound and three pound 
trout (the anticipated result of our dav's fishing), the 
salt being required to preserve the fish. In our down- 
stream course ( the point of embarkation being about 
twenty- five miles from the river's mouth), we pulled 
up at each turn, or where cooling streams joined the main 
river, and more than once were our light rods put to 
the test, as two pound or three pound trout, fresh from 
the sea, tried every device, by twist and turn, rock and 
stone, or by rush down rapid or under the overhanging 
alder brushes, to free himself from the hook. It was 
not, however, until we arrived at the mouth of the Big 
Eckedellac, a favored spot, where was a deep pool, that 
we hooked and landed trout after trout in rapid succes 
sion — no delay, save the time necessary to replace the 
fly (but one fly can be used on the casting line with 
safety to rod and line), on its being worn to a shadow 
of its former self. A large grilse fly, with dark ginger 
body and wings of the mottled grey of the mallard, was 
the taking one on the occasion, anil eagerly though fish 
took this fly they would scarcely look at any other, an 
unusual thing in my Canadian experience. Suffice it 
to say that, on the welcome dinner call being sounded 
by the boss cook, the two weary fishermen, laying out 
on the bank the result of a few hours' fishing, a real 
and important fishery question arose, as to who had 
taken the largest and finest trout. As to quantity of 
fish, we had both to say ' ' enough. ' ' After the well- 
earned meal and having filled the barrel with trout, we 
climbed a tree overhanging the pool, and there a fishery 
exhibition met the eye such as would delight the heart 
and eye of any disciple of Izaak Walton. There was no 
perceptible diminution in quantity after our busy morn- 
ing's work, and we soon returned to the settlement, 
having had sport in the way of trout fishing such as is 
almost unheard of in modern times. MICMAC. 
ANGLING NOTES. 
THE FISHERS' CLUB. 
Since the subject of organizing a Fly-Fishers' Club in 
this country, to embrace the fly fishermen of the United 
States and Canada, was first agitated in the columns of 
Forest and Stream, the benefits to be derived from such a 
club have been touched upon only briefly. Such a club 
will doubtless be modeled upon the London Fly-Fisher's 
Club in great part, and Mr. Marston and Mr. Senior have 
been quoted as to the social features of their organization, 
and the library has come in for mention, but the London 
club has recently been expanding in channels that have 
not hitherto been referred to. It is probably understood 
by this time that the London club has no club house or 
restaurant privileges of its own. It has rooms adjoining 
a hotel, and this hotel makes special rates for food, drink 
and lodging for club members. 
The rooms of the club, under lease, are similar to the 
rooms of other clubs, and constitute its permanent home. 
Very lately this club has taken up the matter of gather- 
ing together in albums or cabinets, the material used 
in making artificial flies. The honorary treasurer, Mr. 
Marston, suggested this in his speech at the annual dinner 
of the club, and the suggestion has now taken form. Two 
committees have been appointed, one to gather all the 
materials used in making trout flies, and another to 
gather the materials used in making salmon flies, and to 
arrange all for display in the rooms of the club. As soon 
as this was known, one of the best known firms engaged 
in hook-making at Redditch tendered the club samples of 
all the hooks used in fly fishing, and a complete set of 
standard salmon flies framed, and any fly material for the 
cabinets that it could furnish. 
With all the fly material properly labelled, sample 
hooks numbered and named, and completed flies also dis- 
played, the club rooms will present a complete history of 
all flies used in fly fishing, with everything that enters 
into their composition. In this country we would have 
to enlarge the list of flies to include those used for black 
bass, onananiche, etc., but just imagine what an educa- 
tional feature it would be in an American Fly Fisher's 
Club to have displayed all the flies used and endorsed by 
expert fly-fishers all over the United States and Canada. 
When 1 say flies endorsed by expert fly-fishers, I mean 
just that, for there are countless flies made in this 
country that I imagine no one will endorse. I think the 
tendency of our fly makers is more and more to imitate 
the flies of nature and to discard the flies of a fevered im- 
agination. 
Another thing proposed by the London Fly-Fisher's 
Club is to have stuffed specimens of all the species of sal- 
monidae at different stages of their growth, mounted and 
displayed. Each fish to have its scientific and usual com- 
mon name and also the name by which it is known in 
certain districts. In thip particular line, the fly-fishers of 
North America could make a display such as could be 
made no where else on this earth, as we have a greater 
number of species of salmonidae to draw upon. To these 
could be added all other species of fish in our waters 
which are taken by fishing with the fly. Now that I think 
of the possibilities in this direction, there is one objection 
to the scheme, and that is that the American fly-fishers 
would require a great number of rooms to make the dis- 
play of all our fishesvvhich take the artificial fly at var- 
ious stages of their growth. 
FORM OR MOVEMENT. 
In the last sentence of a note last week, I referred to 
the experience of English anglers with the natural and 
artificial May-f y, and sai I that the refusal of the trout to 
take the artificial fly when the natural fly was rising was 
a matter of movement in the fly presented rather than a 
question of color in the imitation. I have just read an 
angler's experience, from which I quote , as it bears upon 
this subject, in my opinion. The angler, with a friend, was 
fishing in a lake in August: "We found it smooth as a 
mirror, just a catspaw of wind playing here and there on 
the glistening surface. We set to work, employing the 
finest tackle with small flies, and in spite of the calm 
which prevailed, killed several nice trout, the fish rising 
with some freedom so long as there was no great quantity 
of natural fly on the water. Towards the middle of the 
day, a light but steady breeze springing up, we noticed 
that the trout rose more frequently to themselves, but 
were no- longer attracted by the imitation. In vain we 
changed the flies; not a trout would look at them while 
they continued to flap and splash all around the boat in 
the most provoking fashion. At last I discovered the fly 
they were taking; the lake was simply covered with tiny 
red ants, their fragile, gauze-like wings cocked up in the 
air, giving them the appearance of far greater size than 
was their due. 
I had several patterns of the fly in my book, and 
quickly attaching to the cast three which appeared most 
accurately to resemble the original, I cast over the rising 
fish. 
"But disappointment was in store for us. The sharp- 
