4 28 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Mat S9, 1897. 
that to my right I reached the river, and an answering 
yell told the direction of the camp. 
Said Len: "How is it that you're so hungry; I thought 
you took out grub enough for two days. Didn't you see a 
deer? I had my mouth fixed for venison." 
''Len," said I, "give me something to eat. What you 
put up was only a bite for a hungry hunter. Yes, I saw a 
deer/' 
After I had engulfed half a gallon of bean soup and de- 
stroyed half of a boiled ham 1 said: "Now that I feel like 
a giant refreshed with wine, Len, I don't mind telling you 
that I killed a deer some ten miles west of the river, and 
I'll show you where it is in the morning; bxit I feel like a 
murderer, and if you or Dan want any more butchering 
done you may do it yourselves, I am too tender-hearted to 
do it, I'll catch the cold-blooded fish, but I'll be blessed, 
I think I mean blessed, if I'll kill another deer and have 
it look at me in that way." 
Dan lay in the tent smoking, and said nothing. Len 
poked the fire, and after a while said: "Dan tells me you 
have been a soldier; did you feel as soft as that when there 
was fightin' goin' on?" 
"Not by a mill-site, Len; the case is different; in one case 
your own life is at stake, and in the other you are. safe. 
Without giving a lecture to you, let me say: In our civil- 
ization it is necessary that some men shall be butchers 
and others shall be undertakers. I have no taste for those 
respectable occupations, and can say, with lago: 
" 'Thouerh in the trade of war I have slain men, 
Yet do I hold it veiry stuff o' the conscieDce 
To do no contriv'd murder'." 
Dan raised up on his elbow and said: "Len was a soldier 
also, and if he had been with Napoleon would have been 
a field marshal, for the little corporal said that every 
soldier carried the baton of a field marshal in his knap- 
sack. But just what you and Len are quarreling about I 
don't know; you seem to have got into a sentimental strain. 
You go out one day and kill a lot of grouse and then you 
come into camp in a maudlin condition over a deer that 
you have killed. Really, I fail to understand the case." 
"Dan," I answered, "the case is not to be understood by 
explanation. No argument will reach it. When I was a 
boy I killed every living thing except mankind, and 
thought it sport. 1 valued my own life lightly. To-day I 
decline to kill a quail because my dog may bring a 
wounded bird for me to finish. I can shoot grouse or 
ducks which come to my hand dead, and I prefer to have 
a deer come and lick my hand in the Zoological Gardens 
to killing it. As we get older we think more of such 
things, and that's all I've got to say about it. The deer is 
there; I'll show Len and Babbitt where it is in the morn- 
ing, and if you w'ant any more venison for camp you can't 
get me to kill it." 
Len had listened to this talk, but the sentiment, for it 
was sentiment, was lost on him. After considering it 
awhile he said: "I s'pose you wouldn't eat any of that veni- 
son after what vou have said about it." 
"Yes I will."" 
"Well, I can't imderstand you at all. You can kill some 
things for sport and food and can kill and eat a beastly 
lizard that was never meaJit to be eaten. What's the mat- 
ter with killing a deer? Wasn't they made to eat?" 
"Let that go, Len, it's a notion of mine, and I'll never kill 
another deer. But I will not promise about lizards." 
That was my last deer, some fourteen years ago, and the 
look it gave me lingers yet. My desire to kill lessens year 
by year, and a desire to breed and preserve game birds and 
animals takes its place. For many years my flock of semi- 
domesticated wood-ducks and other wildfowl was a delight 
as I watched them hatch and rear their young, but an en- 
forced removal to the city ended that pleasure. There are 
\Yomen who kill deer. That is something that concerns 
them and which I have no right nor inclination to criti- 
cise. There is a little woman who is very dear to me who 
has taken the life of a mosquito after provocation, but I 
doubt if she could kill anything else. 
Talking in this strain to Dan Fitzhugh after the deer had 
been brought in and dressed, and we had ordered the rib- 
chops for our dinner and all the remaining chops saved for 
us, for Len, like all woodsmen, preferred the hind-quarters, 
Dan said: "As I get older I begin to feel as you do about 
taking life, especially of the more intelligent'animals, like 
deer, but to Len and all woodsmen a deer represents a cer- 
tain amount of meat. They can't understand why you 
should enjoy spring lamb and mint sauce and yet object to 
killing the lamb any more than you should decline to 
pluck the mint. There is good sound reason for their 
views, for om- ancestors, who in the pre-historic times 
fought the cave bear for tenement rights, had no such 
scruples as we have now. All this is the effect of educa- 
tion which tends to make us consider the rights and feel- 
ings of others, a perfectly unnatural state of affairs. Self 
interest is the only natural thought of aatural man or other 
animals." 
"My dear Dan,'' said I, "you are right. It has been a 
purely selfish -thing on your part that has made you pay all 
the expenses of three trips for me to fish and shoot in 
northern Michigan with you. If we only do things for Our 
own selfish benefit, as you say a man should, how can you 
justify yourself for such expenditures as you have made for 
me, Seth Green, George Dawson, Charles Hallock, Prof. 
Milner, Thad. Norris, and others." 
"My dear boy, the companionship, the communion with 
kindred spirits and other things can't be reckoned in cold 
cash. Look at Len standing there like a statue. He is in 
my employ, but no money could pay the grand old man for 
his untiring devotion to me. If he outlives me he will be 
made comfortable in his old age." 
At this time, in 1883, the actors in this comedy were men 
past the.middle age; Len Jewell was sixty-nine, Dan Fitz- 
hugh was sixty, and the writer was a mere boy of fifty. 
Therefore, there was a diffidence in pressing opinions on 
subjects connected with the killing of game; but Len had 
no sentimental objections about such things. 
Len was in the Union army over three years, but on this, 
as on all other things, he would turn the conversation from 
himself. 
Leonard Jewell died Jan. 20, 1886. Mr. E. A. Cooley 
writes: "The old man had no relatives, and few, if any 
intimate friends. The Jast thirty years of his life were de- 
voted almost exclusively to the service and companionship 
of Uncle Dan. Dan and I were with him when he died. 
When Dan and Len and I were on the Mpigon together in 
1884, about halfway between Camp Alexander and Cam- 
eron's Pool, we found (alongside the trail) a little spring of 
the clearest, coldest, sweetest water I have ever tasted. 
About half an hour before old Len died he indicated that 
he wished a drink of water. I poured out a cupful of 
Lithia water from the bottle standing by the bedside, raised 
his head, and he took a sip of it. As I laid his head back 
on the pillow, in a voice so faint that I could scarcely 
hear him, the old man whispered, "It don't taste much like 
our spring on the Nipigon." And I have no doubt that 
the old man's last thoughts on earth, as probably his first 
ones in the next world, were of some fishing excursion 
which he had had with Uncle Dan." 
Later Mr. Cooley sent me Len's militarj' record. He en- 
listed as a private Dec. 18, 1861, in Co. A, 14th Michigan In- 
fantry, and was honorably discharged April 6, 1865. Mr. 
Cooley says: 
"Len was always a very reticent and reserved man, who 
never spoke of himself or his own affairs even to those 
"who knew him best. I presume that, next to Mr. Fitz- 
hugh, I have been with the old man more than almost any 
other person here, and I never heard him speak in any 
way of himself, his previous history, family connections, or 
anything of the kind. I do not even know whether he 
was ever married, nor where he came from, nor what his 
ancestry might have been. He had evidently spent the 
greater portion of his life on the outer edges of civilization; 
had had extensive intercourse with the Indians; must have 
been a hunter and trapper for a good many years; and 
from some things which I have observed, I should infer 
that at some period he must have been employed in a 
tradms post trading with the Indians. He must have been 
a sailor, too, at some period, as he was a past grand master 
of the art of handling sailboats of all sizes and descriptions; 
and I have seen in bis possession a kit such as sailors use 
in making or mending sails, and he was very expert with 
the sailmaker's needle." 
Under the heading, "Len Jewell is Dead," a Bay City 
paper published the following: 
'"The above headline will be read with sincere sorrow 
by all the acquaintances of the deceased. He died at the 
Bay City Hospital yesterday morning after an illness of 
about ten days. Leonard Jewell was born in Rome, 
Oneida countj'^, N. Y., Feb. 25, 1815, and was, therefore, in 
his seventy-first year. He came to Bay City in the fall of 
1844, and has since resided here. He enlisted in the 14th 
Michigan Infantry, Company A, at the breaking out of the 
war, and was mustered out of service in North Carolina. 
He returned to Bay City and engaged in the business of 
looking up pine lands, which he has followed ever since. 
He was authority on pine property, showing good judg- 
ment and a remarkable faculty of estimating. He was 
very fond of hunting, and was acknowledged as being one 
of the best sportsmen in the city. He was a member of 
U. S. Grant post, G. A. R., under whose auspices his fun- 
eral will be held." 
The G. A. R. post attended in a body and fired the usual 
volley over the grave of their departed comrade. 
It is comforting to know that this grand, improvident 
man was cared for in his last days, and was respected in 
death as in life. 
"But when the warrior dieth 
His comrades in the war, 
With arms reversed and muffled drums, 
Follow his funeral car. 
They show his banners taken, 
They tell his battles won, i 
And after him lead his masterless steed, 
While peals the minute-gun." 
^Freu Mather. 
SOME ONTARIO WATERS. 
Gleason's Lake. 
Tbree of us made a trip on the Gateneau Valley Railway, 
forty one miles to Gleason's Lake, situated two miles from 
the station, and a jolly good time we had. There were G. 
B. Loveday and Fred Moore, of New York State, and the 
writer. We left Ottawa at 5:20 P. M. and reached Vanosta 
at 7 :33, where we were met by Uv. Gleason with flue team 
and comfortable express wagon, and driven to his house, 
where our hearts were made glad by the sitjht of clean beds.' 
etc., and well-spread table of goodies — as Mrs. G. remarked j 
"everything is home-made or our own raising." 
The lake is about one mile long, half mile wide and 200ft. 
deep in center. We were up at 4:30 to look out for the 
"good places." We spent some time sailing around and try- 
ing our luck, and things were (in our minds) beginnmg to 
look sort of blue, when G. B. L, had a strike, played, and 
landed a 4i\h. bass. F. M. came next with another beauty, 
and I, well, I never saw what got on to my line, for down 
he went on a rush, and after running out between 30 and 
40ft. of hue there was a snap and he was gone, having 
broken a double salmon gut leader. Luck ! "Well call it 
what you like. G. B. L. and F. M. had not been idle, hav- 
ing landed three more beauties. Then I had a pull and knew 
I was fast to something good. It proved to be a 2ih. 
maskinonge. We went back at 8 o'clock for breakfast and 
a rest. 
Out again in evening (5 P. M.) we look three more bass 
and one maskinonge. We kept this up for three days, and 
(having kept our fish alive in a box) we counted up-^thirty- 
tive bass and five maskinonge— the best string my com- 
panions (G. B. L. and F. M.) had ever seen. Bass run very 
large in this lake— 2 to 51b9.— and we only had one less than 
31bs. It is a very handy place to reach, with fine scenery, 
clear water in the lake and pure fresh air. Several other 
lakes near at hand where both speckled and large gray trout 
abound. 
Wilson's Corners. 
Wilson's Coiners are about sixteen miles from Ottawa, 
and are reached by either G. V. R. R. or vehicles. There 
are at least fifteen lakes within five miles, and good trout 
fishing in them all. There is a fine brook of pure crystal 
water at the Corners, where I spent three hours one fishing 
day. I walked up the road for about two miles, when 1 
looked into the brook, which makes a long circle around the 
mountains before it strikes the Corners. 
It is a pleasant walk when one is properly equipped. I 
wore hip rubber boots, a cool, light-fitting coat and short 
pants (just long enough to connect with boots) and did not 
exert myself, so making it a pleasure instead of hard work. 
When I reached the Corners I counted my catch of sixty- 
seven trout between 8 and luin. in length. Of these I took 
thirty-four out of one hole and fifteen out of another; the 
rest were stragglers from under logs, stumps and banks. 
I hooked quite a number of smaller ones, but put them back 
into the brook for another time. 
McGary's Lake 
is situated twenty-five miles from Ottawa and two and a half 
miles from the station of Wakefield. From a distance of 
half a mile this lake looks like a mud pond, being sur- 
rounded by rushes, and the water is of a darkish color, but 
there is fish there, as I found out. It was a warm, balmy morn- 
ing, with indications of rain. I breakfasted at The Shanty, 
and went down to the lake with my gun, where we shot two 
gray ducks and one very large black duck. Then we built 
a float of old logs, and going out on the lake fished for 
about three hours and only got two trout, when it began to 
rain. I went on shore, assumed long rubber boots, a rubber 
coat over all, and slouch hat, and went out again^ Noticing 
a spot at the mouth of the creek where there was some rising 
and commotion in the water, I paddled over to ttie spot and 
started in. I have had sport before, but this surpassed any- 
thing I had ever seen or heard of. In two hours and five 
minutes I landed 104 trout, and lost several through not 
being properly hooked. Largest one, l^lbs ; smallest one, 
9oz. ' E. T. L. 
MASCALONGP, PIKE, PICKEREL AND 
PIKE-PERCH. 
From the Report of the New York Commissioners of i^isheries, Game 
and Forests. 
This country has long been notable for the confusion 
which exists in the common names of its fishes, and it is 
doubtful if ary amount of instruction on the subject will 
correct the evil of calling a fish by a name which does not 
belong to it, and never should have been applied to it. The 
Latin name of the large-mouthed black bass means that it 
is "trout-like" (literally, salmon-like), and it has a small fin, 
although it is not like a trout and it has not a small fin ; but 
when the fish was first classified by a French naturalist, 
Lacepede, the specimen was sent from one of the Southern 
States, where the fish is known as a trout, and as the parti- 
cular specimen happened to have a broken fin, the genus 
was baptized Mioropferus, little fin, and the name must slick 
to the fish as long as it swims, because with scientists the 
law of priority in the classification and naming of fishes is 
as unchangeable as the laws of the Medes and the Persians. 
Admitting the justice of the custom of scientists regarding 
the scientific natnes of our fishes, is there any good reason 
why inappropriate and incorrect common names should be 
applied to our fishes and persisted in when the appropriate 
and correct names are pointed out? It is not alone incorrect 
names applied to fishes which cause confusion, but a variety 
of names are applied to the same fish in different localities. 
For instance, the pike-perch is called also wall-eyed pike, 
glass eye, horn Qsb, dory, jack, jack salmon, green pike, 
blue pike, yellow pike, white pike, okow, and, of all things, 
salmon! It is known also, locally, as Champlain pike, Sus- 
quehanna pike, etc. The cousin of the pike-perch, properly 
the sauger, or sand-pike, is called gray pike, ground pike, 
pickering and pickerel. 
The rock bass is called goggle eye, red eye, and lake bass. 
The blue-nosed suntish is called copper-nosed bream, and 
dollarel. The crappie is called new light, Campbellite, 
bachelor, bride's perch, strawberry perch, chinquapin perch, 
and sac a-lai. The calico bass is called grass bass, barfish, 
bitterhead, tin-mouth, sand perch and sac-a-lai; hut it is not 
necessary to extend this list, except that I was recently asked 
to identify a fish called "silver bass, exactly like the black 
bass except in color," and found after considerable search 
that it was a name applied in Ohio to the mooneye or toothed 
herring. 
In this State the statutes even err in the common names of 
some of our fishes. Pickerel are mentioned in the Game 
Law when the fish meant is really the pike, and the pike is 
mentioned when the law really refers to the pike perch. A 
gentleman asked some questions about the pike, and I re- 
plied to him and told him that apparently he was asking 
about the pike-perch, but he insisted that it was the pike. 
However, when I asked if the fish had one or two dorsal 
fins he replied that it had two, which is characteristic of the 
pike perch, and not of the true pike. For the purpose of 
identification three figures have been prepared, showing the 
characteristics that are constant in the mascaionge (which is 
sometimes called a big pickerel and great pike), the pike 
and the pickerel. 
Without regard to color or other markings, each of the 
fishes named may be identified from the peculiarity of scale 
formation shown in the accompanying cuts. 
The mascaionge, the pike and the pickerel have each the 
same number of fins, placed in the same position on each 
fish, as will be seen in the colored drawings in this volume. 
The mascaionge has scales only on the upper part of 
cheek and gill covers, as shown m Fig. 1. The fish may be 
the mascaionge from the St. Lawrence River, with round 
brown spots on a light ground, or the mascaionge from Chau- 
tauqua Lake with blotches or splashes of brown, or it may 
be without spots of any kind, and it may be called Chautau- 
qua pike, or Kentucky River or Muskingum River pike, 
and yet it will be a mascaionge and have scales on cheek 
and opercula, as shown in Fig. 1. 
The colored drawing is made from a Chautauqua Like 
mascaionge, for that is where the State hatches mascaionge, 
and this is the first time that a specimen has been figured 
correctly. It was reported to me that some of the Chautau- 
qua Lake mascaionge were spotted like the St. Lawrence 
River fish, and I asked Superintendent Annin to investigate 
the matter, and I quote from his letter reporting to me: "I 
am inclined to think, and believe I am correct, that all the 
mascaionge of Chautauqua Lake are marked in the same 
manner. I secured three specimens, which our men thought 
were the spotted variety, as they call it, and sent two of 
them to Dr. Bean ; and he says they are the same as he had 
last fall and the same as you have for the report. You 
know that oftentimes you will find a fish coming out of the 
same lake, only from a different bottom, which will be 
marked and colored differently, one from another. This, I 
think, is the explanation of the reported difference in colora- 
tion of the Chautauqua Lake mascaionge. The only round 
brown spots on the Chautauqua Lake fish are those found 
near the tail and along the belly fine." This to me is con- 
clusive, although I was informed in great detail that the fish 
of different ages or of different sexes have been taken with 
different markings, some with round brown spots and some 
with blotches almost like vertical bands, as shown in the 
colored plate. 
The State hatches upwards of 3,000,000 of mascaionge 
annually, and there are demands for them for waters in 
which it would be unwise to plant them, and all such appli- 
