Am 1896.5 
FOREST AND STREAM, 
171 
miles of both the Aleck and Little Peribonca rivers, both 
tributaries of the Grand Peribonca. Ouananiche may 
often be had here, and trout are abundant. For those 
who seek for trout alone I would strongly urge at this 
season of the year the attractions of the Lac de la Belle 
Eiviere, of Lake Kenogarai, of the headwaters of the 
Ouiatchouaniche — a few miles behind Roberval — and the 
waters of the various club limits between Quebec and 
Lake St. John for those who are entitled to fish them. 
Particularly on the Triton Tract, in and about Lake 
Batiscan and the Lightning River, and in the Jeannotte, 
the outlet of Lake Edward, may large trout be looked for 
next month. E. T. D. Chambers, 
QUBBKC, Aug, 21. 
STE. MARGUERITE SALMON. 
Boston, Aug, 13. — Editor Forest and Stream: Inclosed 
find a clipping from to-day's Glohe, the record of a catch 
which, in my judgment, is of such exceeding merit and 
taken in such a sportsmanlike manner that I thought you 
might find room in your columns for a reproduction of 
the article. Observing the table, you will find an enor- 
mous total in pounds; but considering the length of time 
fished, I think these gentlemen showed great compassion 
for the salmon. There are few days in which they took 
more than one large fish, and some days none at all. I 
have seen larger scores, yet none more creditable, and I 
pronounce it the greatest catch I ever heard of. 
Though the fishermen are unknown to the writer, he 
would be proud to lift his hat to those gentlemen, two 
only of a great sect which has made Boston famous as 
"the City of Culture." A. Woodle. 
There are pools in the upper northeastern branch of the 
Ste. Marguerite, which empties into the Saugenay, in the 
Province of Quebec, teeming with salmon that may be 
induced to look at a lure if it be properly presented. The 
upper part of this splendid salmon water belongs to David 
H. Blanchard, of this city, who is widely known as an 
enthusiastic devotee of the rod and gun. Mr. Blanchard 
bought the upper part of this river a good many years ago 
from a Dominion magnate by the name of Price. It con- 
tains five likely pools, which each spring and autumn are 
filled with fresh-run salmon that come up the St. Law- 
rence, the Saugenay and the Ste. Marguerite to the wood- 
embowered preserve, where Mr. Blanchard sometimes 
takes his friends. 
It is one of the veiy best salmon waters in the Province, 
and quite as productive of good sport as the Restigouche 
and its far-famed feeders, the Matapedia, the Patapedia, 
the Upsal quitch and the Tom Kedgewick, where the 
nobles of England and the high muck-a-mucks of Canada 
wet their lines. 
Mr. Blanchard has a well-appointed camp on his pre- 
serve, and all of the well-tenanted pools are within half a 
dozen miles of his boat moorings. One of these pools is 
called the Prince of Wales Pool, that jolly sportsman hav- 
ing at one time whipped up its waters with some gaudy 
lures. 
Mr. Blanchard has just returned from the Ste. Mar- 
querite, where he has spent some very happy "salmon" 
days with his young friend, Mr. "Dick" Harding. "Dick" 
did nothing for weeks before the start but dream of 
arrowy rushes, prodigious leaps and 4ft. 40-pounder3 with 
glistening sides of silver and blue. Besides Mr. Harding 
there were in the party Mr. Blanchard's daughter, Mrs. 
Poor, and her two children. 
Camp was reached on June 26, and on the 27th, which, 
by the way, was a day sacred to great clouds and good 
fishing, the first line was wet. The party remained on 
the Ste. Marguerite until Aug. 6, and in that time they 
had twenty-five days' fishing. Only one man fished at a 
time. 
When Mr. Blanchard was out offering his mimic insects 
to the king of fish Mr. Harding remained in camp. 
Thirty-eight salmon were taken, averaging 21ilbs,, the 
largest weighing 34 Jibs. This was killed by Mr. Harding 
on July 29. 
Mr. Blanchard gave his guest a close call on weight, 
and he did it too on June 30, the third day out. Mr. 
Blanchard's record that day was one fish weighing SS^lbs. 
. He had, on the two previous fishing days, taken a 22- 
pounder on the 27th and a 25-pounder on the 29th. 
The 33i-pounder landed by Mr. Blanchard gave him a 
battle royal for upward of three-quarters of an hour. No 
one who ever felt the quick, sturdy rush of a 301b. 
salmon when struck with the barbed steel will wonder at 
the length of time required to subdue one of these lordly 
aristocrats. 
Mr. Blanchard is an adroit handler of light fishing 
tackle, but his 33^lb. fish gave him plenty to do, while 
his boatman's skill was put to the test in following the 
fierce rushes and steadying the boat when the big fish 
stopped to sulk. 
On that occasion the music of Mr, Blanchard's reel was 
sweeter to his ear than the most entrancing strains of the 
symphony orchestra. His whole frame thrilled as his 
line stretched and twanged like a banjo string. The fish 
indulged in the most prodigious leaps, vexed the water 
with acrobatic flip-flaps, and then, after tugs and jumps 
and head-shakings failed to dislodge the hook, he would 
bore straight down and curve the rod into beauty lines 
that would make an artist blue with envy. 
When at last he was brought within galSng distance 
Mr. Blanchard was content to lay back in the boat and 
reel in, un joint and go to camp. One such fish in a day's 
casting is enough for any one, while the exertion of play- 
ing and landing is sufficient to remind an old college 
man of line bucking and wedge breaking on the football 
field. 
On the 30th of July Mr. Harding got into very close 
companionship with a 261b. salmon. He hooked him by 
the tail. The big fish rose leisurely to the lure, but 
changed his mind and turned quickly to go under. His 
tail broke the water like the clip of a screw wheel when 
the stern of the boat is high. In some way unknown to 
Mr. Harding the hook was fastened deep into the salmon's 
tail, and the fun was on right away. 
The rushes made by this fellow were terrific, and at 
times the taut line whined like a jewsharp. 
The best part of two hours were consumed in subduing 
this fellow, and as Mr. Harding had landed his 34^-pound- 
er the day before, he quit fishing and returned to camp, 
Dick admits that a feeling of "goneness" passed through 
his frame when the 34i-pounder came up with open jaws 
and bulging eyes and shook his head at him. "I felt,' 
said Dick, "when he first broke water after I struck, as if 
I was looking at a ghost, and his size made me feel a little 
uneasy regarding my tackle. The sport in playing that 
fell(jw was the best I ever enjoyed, and had I not caught 
another fish I would have been perfectly satisfied." 
The St, Marguerite is indeed a delectable piece of 
salmon water, and on moonlight nights the dwellers in 
Mr. Blanchard's camp are often delightfully entertained 
by the great silvery beauties breaking water and jumping 
about on the surface. The noise is enough to drive an 
out-and-out angler to distraction, and make him pray de- 
voutly for the quick approach of morning. 
The following table will show that both Mr. Blanchard 
and Mr. Harding have built up something for winter 
rumination. The star is used to designate the fish caught 
by Mr. Harding: 
Pounds. Poundp. 
June 27 32 July 17 12K> 
June 39 25 July 20 20 ~ 
June 30 331^ July 22 16U 
Ju'yl 93)^ July 23 22iZ 
Julys 25 July 23 21 
July 2 21U July 23 233^ 
Julys 171^ July 24 i,... ....i. 22i| 
July2 23]^ July 25,...,,,,.,..;.. *16V4 
July 3 19 July 27 20 
July 4 , . . , 2214 July 28 mu 
Julys 24 July 38 24}Z 
July 10 July 29 *34i| 
July 11 1914 July 30 *36 
July 13 311^ Aug 1 +161^ 
July 14 , 14 AUR. 1 UiZ 
July 14 12J^ Aug. 1 16 ~ 
July 15 , 131^ Aug. 3 2au 
July 15..,,, 26}^ Aug. 6 *I3 
July 16,, 17 Aug.6 27- 
Total i.„,..,...T 38 
Average weight , . , , .„ , 2^4 
FLY-FISHING 
On the North Shore of Lake Superior. 
[Continxied from page IBO.] 
The dawn opened in the east with rosy evidence of 
magnificent weather for the day, while a southwest wind, 
always an angler's delight, blew from the crimson woods 
with an air of gentle intoxication. Miniature showers of 
silver gleamed on the waves as they rose and sang the 
praise of the tropic breeze; the forest warblers were out 
in joyous melody and the sky a romance in violet and 
orange. The savage shoreland that gave severity to the 
scene displayed its piles of deta^jhed and defaced rocks 
draped with lichen and moss and generously touched 
with gold from the glowing orb. A fragile bell flower 
here and there and a dipping sea gull made diversity as 
well as delight. 
We turn our thoughts to Blind River, as the Mussulman 
turns toward Mecca, for we knew that a gravelly and 
shady pool, margined in part by grasses and shrubs that 
wave in the wind like light plumes, was there to be found, 
and in which poised and played the loveliest of spangled 
spoils. 
At last breakfast is over and we are again on the open 
lake, passing the great ramparts of aged stone that are 
blazing with a silvery glare as the effulgent sun pours 
down upon them, while the cedar and birch and balsam 
that closely crowd to the shore are glistening in a luster 
of green that goes far toward destroying the charm of 
wildness. 
On reaching the mouth of the little stream we pushed 
over its shallow mouth and were soon at the desired pool. 
The choice seat in the boat again fell to Ned, and as he 
was the first to reach the preserve, he without delay had 
his red-headed terror, the "dusting brush," sailing 
through the air like a lurid comet. It struck the water 
with anything but downy lightness, but it nevertheless 
aroused a poising trout that went with savage fury for his 
dropper, a silver-doctor. Ned was on the qui vive for the 
response and gave him the cold steel in a most admirable 
manner. The angler at once realized that he had no Sand 
River babe to deal with, and after the boat had backed 
away from the pool and the snags that lined the shore he 
had an open field for the battle and started in to win the 
laurels. Being out of the reach of the basin, I of course 
watched the struggle with deep interest. Not a word was 
spoken during the strife and the only murmur was in the 
soughing waters, the rustling branches and the lisping 
birds, Ned was remarkably cool and alert, and when the 
leap into the sunshine was made the startling proportions 
of the jeweled beauty were made manifest. 
"Big one," said Kenosh in a low voice, and then deep 
silence again prevailed and the battle went on with savage 
fury. The royal beauty at last weakened and then the 
happy angler forced the fighting, and in a moment or two 
he was drawn to the boat and netted and held aloft for 
inspection, with his ruby-tinted robe gleaming in the 
bright sun. 
"Weigh that scarlet darling," says Ned. Kenosh at 
once secured the indicator, and hooking him through his 
red-lined jaw drew the steel point to the 5ib. notch, the 
largest trout we had yet caught. He, however, had dis- 
dained the "dusting brush," and that gave us all much 
pleasure in humorsome diatribe at the fortunate angler's 
expense. Ned took it all good-naturedly, for he had cap- 
tured the blue ribbon trout, and like an armor-clad war- 
rior felt impervious to all cynical or humorous assaults. 
His joy was too supreme to heed the foils that were thrust 
at him so constantly. 
The boat again being placed in position, I have a fine 
chance at the pool, and at the very first dropping of my 
flies I had a splashing response and with it came a de- 
licious aria from the reel. Again the boat retreated from 
the pool and again a flerce battle, and another victim of 
the glittering spangles. It was a full 3-pounder and had 
given me much solid pleasure, the pleasure indescribable, 
that neither gold nor precious stones can purchase. 
Cautiously working back to the little preserve, Ned got 
in the first drop, and another courageous Hector of the 
scarlet robes sprang upon his silver-doctor with the im- 
petuosity of a bounding panther and then dashed for the 
snaggy bottom, but the skillful angler swerved him away 
and compelled him to fight over the shallow and gravelly 
bed. Here he was soon robbed of his tenacious vitality 
and made another victim for his enticing foe. 
The failure of Ned's red-headed terror to attract the 
trout was a picnic for us, for we lampooned him right 
and left, advising him to take the "dusting brush" out of 
the water and retire it for the season. It was simply in 
evidence that the vagaries of the trout are beyond the 
ken of the human family. One day the attractive fly is 
somber, the next bright, then again red, violet, yellow, 
brown, gray, and so on to the end. I frequently, in 
selecting my flies for the leader, have a strong contrast in 
color. If one is repellent the other is doubtless attractive, 
but it is always best when trout are hard to tempt to 
make frequent changes, not only in color, but in size. 
The little frolic with the fiery fly being over, we ven- 
tured once more to the lovely pool, and as soon as luck 
favored me with a fine command of the pool I got the 
drop on Ned and snatched the next radiant trout from the 
translucent waters, and then there came a cry of enough, 
and the shady pool was not again disturbed by falling 
flies. We were loath to leave the transports of the charm- 
ing stream, where the air is balmy and sweet and blue- 
eyed violets peep o'er the bending grasses, while the 
waters, so like a mirror, reflect the loveliness of a painted 
sky. We hoist the sail on reaching the great lake, and 
little rolls of snowy beads drop from the bow of the speed- 
ing boat as we pass shores of gloomy jagged rocks, so 
savagely and anomalously sculptured as to excite your 
most fervent admiration. Groves of pine and cedar push- 
ing their way to the mighty waters are ever in view, 
while dismantled and wave-washed blocks of flinty gran- 
ite, which have toppled down from the ragged cliffs above 
and whose tops are streaked in silver and gold and gray, 
add commanding interest to the picturesque coast line 
that reveals itself as a standard show of nature's great 
workshop. 
The next morning being favorable for our departure, we 
were up early to breakfast, and made all haste to break 
camp and sail for Aguawa Harbor. We managed to get 
off by 6 o'clock with a spanking breeze, and then it was 
"Hurrah I my lads, we're homeward bound, 
We're homeward bound for freedom's ground; 
Tip with the sail, and off goes she, 
• Hurrah I my lads, hurrah! hurrah I" 
The waves were running quite high, and every crest 
was shaking its snowy plumes. The run, which was 
only ten miles, was made in about an hour and a half. 
In another hour we had the camp perfected, and then 
eagerly went in search of the tinted and tattooed tribe. 
Our outing gave us three handsome trophies, but each of 
them was bravely earned, and that is more satisfying 
than making big catches from a preserve or a mill pond. 
We did no fishing at all in the afternoon, being fearful 
of glutting the larder, and therefore passed much of the 
time in luxuriant idleness, with cards and reading coming 
in as part and parcel of our diversion. Ned in the inter- 
vals did a little work in making another flaming fly and 
tying a few leaders. The half-breeds busied themselves 
in mending their clothes and gathering an amplitude of 
firewood, which they found strewn along the shore. We 
had a charming place for a camp-fire, it being well pro- 
tected from the lake breeze, and many an hour did we 
pass there in infinite and comfortable enjoyment. After 
supper that night we had a regular carnival of fun around 
the blazing pile. Ned was at his best, and told many a 
humorous story and gave us some charming bits of mel- 
ody, while Kenosh gave us much interesting information 
about his early days on the Great Lake and along these 
bold and craggy shorelands. His tales of hunting and 
trout fishing at that period were marvelous. He could 
then catch all the trout he wanted at the "Soo," and as 
for game, the woods were full of it. Partridges you 
could knock down with a pole, rabbits were overabun- 
dant, ducks were found in great numbers in all the inland 
lakes and streams, and bears turned up in unexpected 
places, Indian had good time then, he said, as his trapping 
season was always highly profitable, Now the Indians are 
compelled to leave the shores of the lake for their game, 
and settlements are being made nearer the Canadian Pa- 
cific Railroad. Nine-tenths of the In dians and half - breeds 
have left these rock-bound shores. This has been our ob- 
servation, as also of others, during the last six years. 
Aguawa has been entirely dest'rted. Bachawaunau Bay 
is almost in the same condition, and Maimaise Point the 
same. No fish, no game, no nothing, and so Mr. Lo, who 
has assisted in all this decimation, has to seek other quar- 
ters for his dollars and his hash. It is fast becoming an 
equivalent of the Western prairies, with their disappeared 
biiff alo. 
A gentle northwest wind, bright skies and an exhilar- 
ating atmosphere were the trinity of attraction that was 
introduced to us the next morning when we arose and 
vacated our tent. Immediately after breakfast we start- 
ed along the east shore, casting our flies in every place 
that we thought a trout would lurk. We went fully two 
miles along the shore without a rise; but just as we 
struck a mass of fragmented rocks, and when we were 
on the point of returning, the carnival commenced. Here 
Ned, who had the choice seat in the bow, had a double 
strike, and I almost simultaneously a single. There was 
a little excitement in the boat when both organs were 
playing. Ned being so exceedingly anxious to save his 
battling pair, I told the boys to pay no heed to me till the 
twain were captured. After the fierce struggle had about 
exhausted them, the question arose as to safety in landing 
them. I suggested to the half- breeds that each take a net, 
and when the pair were exposing their crimson-fretted 
sides to the blazing sun for each to dip in unison. The 
opportunity presenting itself, they were both skillfully 
netted, and then there was an overjoyed angler in the 
boat. Jo now turned his attention to my wearied trout, 
which was about ready for the net. A run or two more 
and he gives the signal of surrender, and then the wide- 
awake half-breed slipped the net under him and carefully 
deposited him in the boat. He was an ounce or two over 
3lbs., while Ned's peerless pair were fully 41bs. each. 
"That like old time," said Kenosh, when he saw the 
three glittering fish lying side by side. 
"So is this," said Ned, who had just hooked another on 
his first cast. "And this also," 1 added, as I sunk the 
cold steel into the iron jaws of another scarlet Hyperion* 
We will not further detail the account of that morning; 
suffice it to say we caught ten, the largest being 51bs. and 
the smallest but a shade under 4. We were so much ex- 
cited with the sport that not till we asked Kenosh the 
sum total of the catch did we know, and then we threw 
up our hands in surprise and discontinued the war. 
"Some waste here," said I to Ned when I looked down 
upon the pile of gleaming beauties. 
"No, I salt 'em," spoke up Kenosh. 
"What for?" 
"For myself, for home." 
"They will make a small display." 
"Oh no, I got some already." 
"Where did you get them ?" 
