Jan. So, 1897.] 
After the tournament at Coney Island Endicott and I or- 
ganized the FoKEST AKD STREAM anglers' tournament, 
which held its only contest on Harlem Mere, Central Paris, 
in 1882, and then became the JSfational Rod and Reel Asso- 
ciation, and held tournaments until 1889, 
He kept the lithographing firm running for many years 
after the death of his father, but soon after losing his wife 
his children left the Staten Island home and moved into the 
city, but he took a room in a very unpretentious hotel and 
remained on the island, where he could tish when inclina- 
tion agreed with the tide. His room was a museum of arms 
and fishing taclcle, as well as the library of a scholarly man, 
and alter a day*s fishing we often sat looking out on the 
bay, where we could see the ocean steamers from the 
Narrows until they were lost in the direction of the great 
city and exchange stories of fishing and shooting, or smoke 
in reverie. He seldom fished in the Bay above the Nar- 
rows; his favorite grounds were in the Lower Bay and the 
Great Kills, taking boat at GrifEord's and going out far or 
fishing near, as he thought best. Our fishing there was 
mainly for weakfish and kingfish, but sometimes we tried 
for bluefish in Raritan Bay. He knew the grounds for 
miles around, and his knowledge of where to find the weak- 
fish, whether the smaller school fish or the big yellow-finned 
tide runners, in all kinds of weather and stages of tide was 
remarkable. 
Mr. Endicott, like his friend Gen. Arthur, was an epicure; 
perhaps net "of the first water," let us say of a prime vin- 
tage, for they were connoisseurs in wines as well as in all 
other things which are esteemed by the hon uvant, and in 
the two last months of each year, while he lived, we met at 
a little French restaurant and ordered a roast grouse, chic- 
ory salad a,nd Burgundy; the grouse to be in the oven 
only twelve minutes, and the chapon in the salad to have 
an extra rub of garlic. This chicory was not the kind 
which grows like a carrot, but the French sort, sometimes 
called endive; and while we are talking of this salad I. will 
tell you what I learned from Endicott about it. The chapon 
is a bit of dry bread Sin. square that has been rubbed with a 
clove of garlic, and then the latter is thrown away and the 
chapon is tossed among the leaves, which have been treated 
to salt and oil only. Most persons get enough garlic from 
this slight contact with the bread, but we saved the chapon 
for a hon bouche and divided it fairly. Whenever I wander 
up Fulton street, especially in the grouse season, it seems as 
if Frank Endicott must be coming to meet me at the little 
cafe, which is now no more. 
From him I not only learned much about salt-water fish- 
ing, but also how game should not be cooked. At our first 
grouse dinner he noticed that I was a little shy of the very 
rare interior, and he overcame my crude ideas and taught 
me that the bird was cooked to perfection, and then I came 
to know how not to cook some birds. This is a thing which 
requires education, and I was a long time in getting mine, 
and have been longer in trying to educate a few household 
cooks who may appreciate rare beef, but draw the line on 
rare birds; but let me tell it as my mentor told me, as near 
as his words can be remembered : 
"In the cooking of game birds," said he, "it is necessary 
that all the white-meated ones, like our Northern partridge 
and quail, should be well done, so as to show no bit of rare 
meat, just as a turkey or chicken should be cooked. But, 
my boy, with the dark-meated birds such cooking is ruin, 
the distinctive flavor of the meat is lost You know, of 
course, that the ruffed grouse is called a 'partridge' in New 
York markets, while the prairie chicken of the West is the 
only 'grouse' that the market and the cafe knows. Well, the 
first of these birds needs to be cooked to the bone, and 
the latter only well browned on the outside, just as fish 
should be thoroughly cooked and beef lightly Ordinarily a 
French chef hm little knowledge of cooking game birds; he 
may cook venison well, because it requires the same treat- 
ment as mutton; but his idea is to devise some sauce with a 
flavor that will destroy the individuality of a game bird. 
Don't trust him to cook one without special instructions un- 
less you know he understands this." 
I was getting some new ideas about good cooking of game, 
and somehow they seemed to accord with the plain cooking 
of my hunting and trapping life, when it often seemed that 
there was a lack of "dressing" and sauces. 
He continued: "Take a canvasback duck, for instanc3. 
If it has fed upon wild celery it is the finest aquatic fowl in 
the world, unless we include the redhead, which robs it of its 
■ditinty after its long dive for it; but let some cook roast it for 
half an hour and it might as well be a barnyard fowl, espe- 
cially if it is stuffed and 'seasoned' to as to destroy the deli- 
•cate natural flavor. If a canvasback is to be cooked' at home, 
•let them roast it in a hot oven full fifteen minutes if women 
.are your guests, but only twelve if they are sportsmen epi- 
'cures; but in both cases it must be served hot The oven 
must be hot and the bird heated through and served on hot 
j)lates, or it is wasted " 
Another thing which this epicure taught me was to relish 
the bitter flavor in the backbone of a grouse after there was 
little else left. This can only be had by sucking on the dor- 
sal vertebra, and it is said that in England some men carry 
this bone in a vest pocket for weeks and refresh their mem- 
■ories with a pull at it; but it is true that there is an agreeable 
bitter in the backbone of a grouse when you can't get an- 
•olher bit of satisfaction out of the bird. Yet this man whom 
I have extolled as an epicure was, or pretended to be, fond 
of roast possum, that omnivorous, fat-laden critter which 
feeds on what comes handy, just like the hog, the coon, the 
bear and man, whether it be fish, flesh, fowl or black- 
berries. 
In my Long Island home there were two permanent 
boarders who never missed a meal nor paid me a cent. 
Their names were Keno and Trouble, and their idea of en- 
joying life was to make it miserable for rats, cats and pos- 
sums. Regularly, about midnight, these terriers were let 
out before going to bed and their voices told me if they had 
treed a possum or if it was only a cat. In the latter case 
they came reluctantly at call, but if it was a possum they re- 
newed their yelping after I had pulled on bouts and started 
wiih a lantern for the game. I had told all this to Mr. 
Endicott and fold him that I gave the long snouts to the 
da-kies. Just how many I sent him or how many possum 
dinners we had down on Staten Island is not on record, but 
if not exactly feasts of reason there was always a flow of soul 
and wit. It may be possible that a disUke for all fat meats 
led me to revile the succulent possum while eating a small 
portion of it out of compliment to the host; that's the most 
likely solution, for I once told Frank, who was extolling the 
merits of a roast sucking pig, that I'd as soon eat a baby. 
Now, in justice to the taste of my friend and to the possum, 
I will say that the portion of the tongue, which he impar- 
tially served to each guest, was truly a gastronomic delicacy, 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
little, but oh, myl Frank once delivered this after-dinner 
rhapsody over the remains of a possum: 
"Oh I rare marsupial with the tail prehensile) 
Would that I had the fervid pen or pencil 
Thy virtues to deviiet -suffice for tne 
That thou hast brouKlit such guests to diu6 on thee. 
There are who say— may Satan's pitchfork toss *em - 
That none but Southern darlries eat the possum. 
But we will cling with simple faith to. thee. 
As clings tby tail to the persimmon tree, 
immovable as earth— thou pansy blossom! 
Thou, flower \ Thoii miraCle of gr(e)ase 1 Oh ! ! 
"Possum.'' 
In the last year of his life he wrote me the following, dated 
Jan. 28, 1890: "I have been very sick, weak and debilitated 
from nasal hemorrhages— have had some fainting spells and 
am somewhat weak on my pins, otherwise I would have in 
flicted you with my presence for a few days as per your 
kind invitation, I am the victim of a conspiracy between 
my children, my brother Munroe and a local physician, and 
the result is that I am ordered away to the Adirondacks for 
change of air. But what I wish to say to you, my dear 
boy, is this: The trouble in my throat is, I think, malignant,' 
and as a consequence fatal. Ever bear me in your kind re- 
membrance; I am not afraid of the grim enemy." 
As I had seen him within a month and had eaten a grouse 
and venison chops with him, and promised him a possum or 
two before long, the above letter seemed strange. He was 
not a complaining man, and he appeared to be in robust 
health. He wrote me jolly letters, and I forgot that his 
health was bad. My busy season came on, and in May I 
learned that Dr, Russell had taken him to the Adirondacks, 
and we exchanged weekly letters. On July 24 he wrote 
from Benson Mines, near Carthage, N. Y., as follows: 
"I have been here two weeks, loafing, vegetating, resting 
and blue-moulding. Have been too weak to do much fishing 
until yesterday, when I went somewhat further from the 
FRANCIS ENDICOTT. 
From a photograph sent to Fred Mather, June, 1888. 
house (half nule) and caught twenty four trout, none weigh- 
ing over ilb., most of them being about 7iQ. long. Tde 
trout are small in Little River, as they call this beautif ul 
trout stream, but are very game. However, if you catch 
nothing, fly-casting is, like virtue, its own exceeding great 
reward. The stream is delightful for casting, no overhang- 
ing bushes Dor other obstructions, and is strung with beauti- 
ful pools on whose surface you can see an occasional dimple 
made by the troutlings, or the bolder whirl of the larger 
trout, « » * Not much sport, you may say, but to me 
the brook and the trout were like a dream of past days. 
My chum, Dr. Russell, has just returned from a little stroll 
to the inlet of Cranberry Lake — sight or ten miles. Wish I 
cou d have been with him! He reports the fish much larger, 
but the accommodations bad. He brought home a troui 
wnich weighed lilbs. dressed, and we promptly had it boiled 
for suppar, with egg sauce. Alirgetrout is a sublimited 
salmon! * * * i have gained soraewha* in strength, 
but my throat still continues to be painful, and does u it 
yield to the balsamic odors of the hemlocks, nor the tc'nder 
ministrations of the black flies, punkies, mosquitoes and 
deer flies, which are very assiduous in their attentions." 
This letter alarmed me. Between the lines I read that my 
dearest friend was really in danger of passing away in some 
lingering manner. If he were killed by any accident of 
flood or field, there would have been a shock devoid of pity. 
Few men care to be pitied, a brave one never does. As his 
most intimate friend I had seen many exhibitions of his 
moral courage, and now came that display of the highest 
quality of courage, the unflinching facing of the enemy who 
bsars "Victory" on his banner, without the excitement of 
battle or "the pomp, pride and circumstance of glorious 
war." 
Then I tried to be funny and fired letter after letter at 
him, filled with such conceits as I could muster, and hope 
they did him some good. The summer passed aud the doc- 
tor brought him back to Staten Ijlaad. Lite iu Seplembjr 
he dictated a letter saying that his troubles had increased, 
and wouud up by saying: "I did intend to so down witu 
my friend and chum, Dr. Russell, and see you, but cannot 
I must have misrepresented you to him iu some way. for he 
seems to want to know you; come down sooa " Evidently 
his sense of humor had not left him, but the fact that the 
letter was dictated was alarming, and 1 would go at once 
On looking at the letter agaia there was a marginal note 
from Dr. Russell, saying: "If you want to see your old 
friend again in life, come at once " 
He was very weak, and as I kissed him ha asked his son 
George to raise him up while he told me a funny story of the 
woods, at which he laughed so heartily that he dropped ba"k 
in a faint and we feared he had gone. Brave fellosv! He 
never complained, and he retained his pleasant manner dur- 
ing several visits. Early in October he was removed to the 
Hahnemann Hospital, in New York city, where he died on 
Nov. 14, 1890. 
Francis Endicott was born in Baltimore in 1834, and was 
a descendant of the Puritan, John Endicott, "who in 1638, 
91 
with his wife, Anne Gower, and that determined company 
of a hundred or . so, followed the .Plymouth pilgrims and, 
founded Silem, in the New World, the famous Massachu- 
setus Bay colony." Hawthorne, in his "Twice Told Tales i 
Endicott and the Red Cross," vividly pictures the old Puri- 
tan Governor slashing the red cross'from the. flag with his 
,sword and resolutely ordering: "Beat a flourish, drummer, 
in honor .of the enaign of New England, Neither pope nor 
tyrant hath part in it now." The famous Endicott pear 
tree, planted in Danvers in 1632, is still standing on the old 
farm. Gilbert Endicott, .grandson of the Puritan, located in 
Stoughton, now Canton, Mass., and there on the old farm 
Frank's grandmother lived, and in his young days he fre- 
quently went there for trout fishing and shooting. 
Spice forbids writing many anecdotes of this genial 
sportsman, which not only show the turn of his mind but 
would be interesting to the general reader. Perhaps ,they 
may be written next week, but in closing this the sad lines 
of Eugene Field come up; 
"O trees and liiliS, and brooks and lanes, and meadows, do you knoiV 
Whei-e I shall find my little friends of forty years ^go? 
You see, I'm old and weary, and I've traveled long and far; 
I'm looking f'or my playmates; I wonder where they arel" 
F.RED Mather, 
ANGLING NOTES. 
John Mowat. 
Many readers of Fobest an1> Stream will learn with un- 
feigned regret that the grand old man, John Mowat, is no 
more: that, as he would have expressed it himself, he 
''crossed over the river" on the 14th of this month. On that 
day I received a telegram from Mr, Archibald Mitchell':' 
"Our friend, Mr. Mowat, died this morning at 8:15, Wiis 
conscious to the last." "• - 
The last letter Mr. Mowat wrote me was dated in OcXohet, 
and contained some MS. for this journal, which was printed 
soon after, being his last contribution to Forest aIstb 
Stream. This column has told of the accident to Mr. 
Mowat on the Restigouche River last year, and how a log 
on which he was sitting with Mr. Archibald Mitchell becanie 
loosened and rolled over him, injuring him internally. His 
first conscious words as Mr. Mitchell was conveying him in 
his own canoe to a nearby farmhouse, where medical aid 
was obtained— for Mr. Mitchell's canoe had been smashed by 
the log after it passed over Mr. Mowat's body— were that he 
was glad that the accident had not happened to his compan- 
ion, and that expression may be taken as an indication of hi& 
character. His last letter to me was so full of hope that I 
looked forward to seeing him in the spring. He said: "I do 
wish I could have met you in Montreal, but I was very sick, 
so much so that I had to be carried to the car. I am a gobd 
deal better, and since coming home have found out the cause 
of the trouble. The log in passing over mei bruised the kid- 
ney, but the doctor says he will have me all right before 
spring. This has put new vim into my seventy-five years, 
and I may kill a salmon yet." 
He mentioned the leasing of fishing privileges in New 
Brunswick, which will take place in March next, and closed 
his letter in these words: "I fully expect the few spots 
now available on which a fish can be had" (a "fish" with 
Mr Mowat was always a salmon) "will pass out of the 
hands of the holders this season, but I expect to meet you 
next spring on the old Restigouche." 
But this was not to be. In the death of Mr. Mowat I be- 
lieve we have lost the man best informed about the Atlantic 
salmon in Canada. For more than fifty years he has been 
familiar with the Canadian salmon rivers, most of the time 
acting in an official capacity under the Fisheries Depart- 
ment, storing up knowledge of the habits of the fish such as 
it was given to but few men to possess. Of this knowledge, 
he gave freely, and every one of his letters to the writer was 
like a fresh chapter in a book, ever interesting, ever bharm- ' 
ing, ever new and instructive, and always of the fish and 
fistiing he loved so well. Once when he sent me for Forest 
and Stream a paper on the habits of the moose I was 
rather surprised, but I believe the readers of this journal 
pronounced it one of the best papers on the animal published, 
the result of long and close observation. 
Four years ago Mr. Mowat wrote me of the circumstances 
connected with the naming of the Princess Pool on the 
Restigouche River, the salmon stream which he regarded 
with more affection than any other in Canada. For a long 
series of years Mr. Mowat escorted every Governor-General 
of Canada whenever there was a State visit to the salmon 
rivers. When Lord L^rne and H.R.H. Princess Louise 
visited the Restigouche, the stream had been reserved 
for I hem by Messrs. Fleming and Brydges, and as usual 
Mr. Mowat was the escort of the royal party, and I will tell 
ilje story in his own words: 
"When on the way down the river Her Royal Highness 
said to me, T am not yet tired of fishing, please stop the 
bjdt (Great Caesar's Ghost) where you think we can have 
some sport.' 1 did so at the mouth of Chain Rock Brook, 
half a mile or so below Indian Pool. LordLorne, the Duke 
of Argyle and his daughters left us there, going down in 
their bark canoes, leaving the Princess, Lady MacNamara, 
Carpenter (detective), two Indians, myself 'and the boat's 
crew, 
"The Princess called me and said she would be ready to 
go when I thought it time. The day was warm, with south 
wind, and toward afternoon clouds began to rise. About 4 
o'clock I called the Indians, and the Princess was ready. I 
took the stern of the boat, turning out one of the men, 
rather against her will, as she requested me to sit down. I 
told her I wanted to manage the canoe myself. We soon got 
up to the ground, about 250yds. above the fall of the Hero 
Rapids. After anchoring tne Princess handed me her fly 
book, saying: 'You know best which fly is most likely to 
kill.' Not finding a fairy, I put on a fly of my own, a mid- 
dling-sized brown. First fish broke hold before anchor was 
raised; second fish did the same before it came to gaff, and . 
this seemed to disappoint her very much. I said as the sun 
lowered the fish would take hold better, and just then we 
had a slight shower with some wind, and cooler. It was 
then about 6 o'clock, and the Princess struck a fish which 
held, and was landed in eleven and a half minutes, and was 
241bs. in weight. Next fish was foul-hooked behind the gill 
cover, and took twenty-two minutes. While playing 
her fish, she said to me: 'Don't be afraid to tell me if I do 
not handle them properly. I should have killed the last one 
quicker; he was only 22lbs., and I found he would go through 
the rapids.' I said: 'You hold very hard; your cast could 
bear no more.' Our next fish was a 26-pounder, and the 
fourth and last a 37-pounder, which I gaffed out of the 
