no 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Feb-. 5, 1898. 
race, iir its last plunge to the wheel, and walk for a 
half mile up the path on the race bank, plastered against 
the face of the side hill far above the river, It is beauti- 
fully wooded, and has long been a favorite picnic 
ground. The venerable steamer, the Mary Washington, 
in days long gone used to carry regular excursions here 
from the capital, but more fashionable resorts, with su- 
perior artificial attractions, have lured the crowds m 
other directions, and on our fishing days this is always 
matter of self-congratulation to us. We reach the dam, 
and here the fun begins. If it is during the spring run of 
fish, we clamber 'out over the huge granite ledges and 
peer cautiously over the edge into the shallow basins 
in the rock below, where the waters are tumbling with 
a roar and scattering into millions of bubbles. Here wc 
nearly always find a bass or two and hundreds of mul- 
lets a foot long, for as there are no fish stairs over the 
dam, this is the head of navigation for them. In the 
pools a little further down the natives and professional 
fishermen, with long-handled hoop nets, dip bushels of 
shad, herrings, mullets, lampreys and large-mouthed 
bass. 
Bass as a rule are not migratory, but the efforts the 
gravid bass make to get up this stream, in company with 
and dipped in the same net with herring and shad, seem 
convincing evidence that, with all other life, environ- 
ment would change an otherwise fixed type. The Po- 
tomac gets brackish as far up as this, and while the 
adult bass thrive below, they evidently prefer sweeter 
water in which to spawn. That they find some place good 
enough is easily established by the fact that increasing 
quantities of young bass are taken here every year. 
The bass above the Falls are mostly small-mouthed, but 
lately some large-mouthed bass have been introduced 
above, and both kinds may be expected throughout its 
course hereafter. 
At low water one may cross the river on the ledges 
in scores of places, and easily fish the whole stream, but 
at ordinary stages only one side of the great pools may 
be_ reached, and fording is oidy possible at one or two 
points. 
Wolf Trap, Shoal and Sandy runs, with one or two 
smaller tributaries, are feeders, too small for bass and 
too warm for trout. 
Our usual trip is a five-mile fish up the river and back 
again, devoting niost of the time to favorite pools. One 
trip our host drove us twelve or fifteen miles, a round- 
about road to a point on the stream far above, and we 
worked down; but there was so much new water and so 
many new rocks that we were wofully tired at night — one 
of the party, indeed, in a state of collapse before we 
reached the inn. 
The pedometer only registered fourteen miles, btit it 
felt like forty. There are places where you walk a fur- 
long to advance a rod, and the stones are piled in such 
confusion as to resemble nothing so much as a worked- 
nut hydraulic mine. It takes effort, but it is worth it. 
there is no house in sight; you may hear a wild turkey 
call, and when the}' are within hearing the madding 
crowd is not apt to disturb you. 
Our first year here we caught a few bass on any but- 
a black fly, raven, crow or hawthorne. The next year 
the Parmachenee Belle was so much more successful 
than anything else that we would have risked a trip with 
no other fly in our books. 
' This last year the water never came into condition, 
and our fishing was mostly done in lakes, where the 
Yellow Sally was the only certain killer, though silver 
tinsel on any fly seemed to make it more attractive for 
the pickerel. 
We are not close enough students, or at any rate 
have not stumbled on any plausible explanation, why 
one fly should be better one year and some other the 
next, but we are firmly convinced it is true in Potomac 
waters. We use two flies, and when we catch all our 
fish on one pattern cannot resist the conviction it is 
something more than accident. We certainly tried a 
hundred flies last year, and as certainly caught a score 
of fish on the Yellow Sally to one on any other fly, and 
this whether it was used as a dropper or at the tail of 
the cast; whether bass or pickerel; from early spring 
to frost ;_ with the water clear or cloudy. 
Experience has established a fact; some Newton must 
formulate a theory of explanation. We have seen the 
apple fall, and that's all we know about it. 
In one particular our experience was different from 
that of Cholmondeley-Pennell, of blessed eyed-hook 
fame, who says: "For some reason which I have not 
succeeded in fathoming, the yellow fly always seems to 
kill best in the position of dropper or bob-fly." We 
found it equally as good as tail fly, and as either better 
than any other, all of last season. 
But to return to the dam. This has been until now 
the dividing line between the small-mouthed and large- 
mouthed bass in this river. Some thirty years ago a 
consignment of bass from Cuinberland was sent around 
by the Relay and Ellicot's Mills through Washington 
for the Kanawha River. On arriving at Clifton it was 
noticed that lots of them were dying, and at the bridge 
this side oi Manassas so many were found to be dead 
that the intelligent engineer took the responsibility of 
durnping them into Bull Run, and thus Occoquan was 
accidentally stocked, for which we are not yet done 
thanking that engine driver. 
The lower river was stocked with larg"e-niouthed bass 
from Illinois, at least one consignment of which was 
discharged from the High Bridge on to a thin skim of 
ice, which deservedly lost the attendant his job. 
Bait fishers find their best sport among these fish of 
the lower river, at the Mullet Hole and other pools below 
the Falls. The water is deep, the fish move about, and 
the still-fisher maj' spend his day on any of the great 
rocks with a fair chance of success. But the fly-fisher 
goes above, and from the dam up every pool may harbor 
a giant', every stone may hide a hungry bass. 
Bass may be found in very shallow water, hardly 
enough to cover his dorsal, but he will always be in 
eas3' reach of some big pool. Our favorite spots are the 
Big Rock, a half mile from the dam; Selectman's Ford, 
a mile beyond, and the Rapids, another mile further. 
But the bass are everywhere — only as we have taken most 
at these points we like them best. A single fly has 
captured nine fine fish from one of these pools at the 
Rapids, and such a record will endear it to the heart of 
the angler who owned the fly, the one lucky enough to 
be a witness, and indeed to any sportsman not too in- 
credulous Henry Talbott. 
Among the Fly-Casters. 
The nine days of fly-casting which ended on Jan. 22 
were very large days for most of us who are interested 
in that sport, for it was a sort of reunion of those who 
took part in similar events in Central Park years ago. 
I saw each of the seventeen contests, and judged, or ref- 
ereed, in the afternoon, part of them, and each day there 
were dozens of old friends who dropped in for tliat occa- 
sion only, as well as those who sat out the game; and 
my arm felt sore from handshaking before the tourna- 
ment was half done. Of course I enjoyed it beyond 
measure; but I don't want to be President of the United 
States and have to shake hands with a procession not of 
friends, but of uninteresting people, as he does, and I 
reached that conclusion on the evening of the third day. 
At least, I resolved that if I accepted the nomination 
for the job, it would be upon a platform of "no hand- 
shakes." 
The first contest was black bass casting, open to those 
who never cast more than 75ft. The distance had a 
charm for the committee, for when there was a limit of 
distance, as on Jan, 14, 8 P. M.; 15, 3 P. M., and 18, 3 P. 
M., it was open only to the 75ft. class. It struck me 
that a class for those who have never cast 60ft. would 
bring in a new lot of young casters. Of course there 
must be a limit in some classes in order to keep out 
the experts who have won in former contests, and I 
would suggest that next year the committee publish the 
records of all men who have public records. The ques- 
tion of records came up when one man entered for a 
class, and the committee very unwisely referred it to 
me for a decision. 
"Where did he make a record?" 
"At the Club." 
"Was it 'open to all,' or merely a club tournament?" 
"Just a club affair, but it was published in Forest 
.^ND Stream." 
"Then, gentlemen," said I, assuming as judicial a look 
as I could do without a wig and a make-up box, "the 
man is entitled to enter here. A club record is only 
valuable for club purposes, and is a' private record so 
far as we are concerned. The Central Park tournaments, 
the Chicago, and other tournaments which are open to 
the world, are the only ones which we can recognize. 
Yesterday in some practice casts Reub Leonard cast 
115ft., but it can't go on record, and if we attempt to 
keep records of all club contests, even though some 
are reported in Forest and Stream, we will probably 
miss many, and have more on our hands than we can 
get off with all the soaps which the magazines advertise. 
As j'ou have left this question to me, I will decide that 
only the contests which are open to all are public rec- 
ords." 
This was the greatest effort of my life, and after its 
delivery there was such apparent exhaustion that my old 
friend,, T. B. Stewart, applied some restoratives and the 
game went on. 
The casting took place on a platform made over the 
first tier of raised seats, and was about a dozen feet 
above the main floor. The great Garden is roofed by 
iron arches made in the usual truss form, wath support- 
ing columns on the side. At Soft, from the casting plat- 
form a column stood, and Reub Leonard was practicing 
with a frog for the coming bait contest, and gradually 
getting the batrachian a few feet further at each cast, 
when, nerving himself for a supreme effort, he landed 
the frog over the arch at Soft., and fully 40ft. above the 
tank! If there had been no ironwork there, that frog 
would have gone through the upper tier of boxes, and 
only stopped at the eastern wall of the Garden. When 
Leonard cast in the bait contest on the evening of the 
19th, his 5 casts were: 97, 88, 106, 87, 82. A man can 
always make greater practice casts than he can in con- 
tests" Reuben won, and the best casts of his 4 competi- 
tors were: Goodsell 95, Levison 92, Peet 86, Bel- 
lows 79. Last week I scolded the committee for compli- 
cating this record with one for accuracy at 6oft. and 
adding points for accuracy with distance. Under the 
rule the winners were: Leonard, Levison, Bellows, Peet 
and Goodsell. There should have been two contests. 
A lady said to me: "I came up to see some gentle- 
manly sport, but this is horrible." 
"I beg pardon, madame, but to what part of it do you 
refer? Is it to the delay in getting entries and the conse- 
quent lack of promptness in calling the events at the 
advertised hour?" 
"Not at all! It is to the casting of those frogs, and 
while I am surprised to see men who appear to be gen- 
tlemen engage in such a barbarous contest when they 
are not fishing, I wonder that the Cruelty Society does 
not stop it. How can you do it?" 
Leonard's frog had somehow been brought down from 
its lofty perch, and I brought it to the lady. "Madame." 
said I, in my society voice, "if you will please look at 
this frog, you will see " 
"But I do not care to see the poor, mangled beast; 
take it away." 
"I was intending to add, that you will see that the 
frog is made of rubber, and the Cruelty Society — ;-" 
"Oh, thank you ever so much; now I will enjoy the 
contest this evening," . 
I had said to Mr. Thomas B. Mdls: This practice 
on the tank sometimes scares a man from entering the 
contests; he sees what the other fellow can do, and 
declines to enter." 
"That's one point of view," he rephed, but the people 
come up and sit in the chairs and are interested m the 
practice, as vou see. The management growls because 
there is no more money coming from entries, but they 
entirely overlook the money taken at the door from those 
who only come to see the casting." 
A/line ancient antagonist. Mr. W. C. Harris, came up, 
and after shaking hands, as the Marquis of Queensbury 
rules require, said: "Fred, let's you and I go on the 
platform and have a friendly set-to; I believe that 1 
can beat you." , ... f 1 j 
"No doubt of it; but I will cast with you for a cold 
bottle, and I'll pay for it whether I win or lose.' 
That seems to be a tolerably fair offer, but many 
generals have lost battles because they did not grip 
the key before it was turned in the lock. Harris merely 
said: "We will talk about that when the Press contest 
comes on." For a score in this contest, see the report 
last week. I withdrew after a couple of casts. 
The platform for the casters was about 4ft. square and 
ift. high, as I guessed it, and it suggested the old con- 
troversy about the advantage of an elevation. In the 
old days of -great records in Central Park, our English 
brethren, who were astounded at the records, thought 
that the elevation was a great advantage. A consulta- 
tion with Leonard, Hawes, Mills, Levison and others re- 
sulted in their united opinion that they would as soon 
stand on a level with the water, if that was the rule. 
Reub Leonard said; "There is no advantage in an ele- 
vation; your cast is against the resistance of the air, 
and that's all there is in it." 
I suggested that next year a contest be held in lake- 
casting, where the caster shall sit as in a boat, and it 
was approved. The late Reuben Wood once challenged 
Harry Prichard to cast in that manner and keep his 
elbow on his knee, as we sometimes do for casting short 
distances; but the trial never came off. 
A friend asked: "How is it that the records of the 
experts now exceed their scores of ten years ago? Is 
it improved rods, practice, or indoor existing where there 
is no wind?" 
"Wind," I replied, "often hdps a cast as well as hin- 
ders one, and as for indoor casting, watch that man on 
the platform; he does not snap off a fly on the back 
cast, in fear that it wilf catch in the grass behind him. 
He gives it full time to settle down on the floor, from 
which it is easily lifted. If there was water behind him, 
he would be careful about letting 6oft. of line into it, 
for he would not lift it and make such casts as he is 
making now of 90ft. To lift a line from water and from 
the floor are very different things. It is not the absence, 
of wind that makes the improved records, although the 
floor behind the caster may help in a way; but there is 
another reason." 
"What is it?" 
"Improved casting; for there has been no marked im- 
provement in rods within the past ten years. In our 
old Central Park days the trick of shooting the line was 
hardly known, and while Leonard, Hawes and Mills 
did a little of it, they had not perfected it, and few 
attached any importance to what they did with their left 
hands." ' . , , .t 
My friend thought a moment, and then remarked: 1 
know the old Patrick's Day song which had for a chorus: 
'It's down Broadway I marched so gay. 
Wid Cornelius, Barney an' Pat; 
An' the geurls would cry, as I passed by : 
Will you ever shoot that hat?' 
"And I've heard of shooting rapids and shooting craps. 
Well, go on; I'll bite at your bait. What is shooting a 
line?" 
"My dear boy!" (he is some months younger than 1. 
and months begin to count on both ends of a fellow's 
life) "there is neither bait nor shot on the line when 
an expert fly-caster shoots it. There goes Hawes to 
the score. Watch him. Wait till he gets out about Soft,, 
and see him shoot the line. There! After a cast he 
pulls in about 10 or 15ft. with his left before he lifts 
the line from the water; he retrieves, and has that much 
less line on his back cast. Now, as the line is hurled 
forward, see how his left hand lifts the line from the 
floor and it is shot through the rings; a portion of 
line which never went behind him. That is shooting 
the line, and is quite a late practice, and is perfectly le- 
gitimate. It differs, of course, from shooting craps, 
rapids and old hats, as nauch as those things differ from 
each other." 
The ladies' contest pleased all the old boys. It is a 
neat, clean game for ladies, and I dearly love to see a 
woman handle a rod, but am a little shy of her when 
she takes to the gun. It may be womanly to shoot — it 
is womanly to fish. The distinction may be a fine one, 
but it is based on the difference between the killing of 
animals with cold or warm blood. I could not love a 
woman who could kill a deer, and to better illustrate 
the feeling I will tell you a story. Two friends stood 
at the roadside when a man went by, driving a hard- 
headed, high-spirited horse which taxed his strength and 
skill. Said Jack: "That's more'n I'd want, to drive 
that boss." , . 
"Oh, I dunno; I know a. woman that ken drive that 
boss." 
"That's all right, my boy, perhaps she can; but ill 
tell you — I wouldn't like to marry a woman that can 
drive that boss." 
But fly-casting is really, from my bench, a sport suited 
for womanlv women, and next year let us hope that there 
will be more entries in this class, or rather m several 
classes, for Miss Leonard's cast of 73ft. will scare many, 
and she should go into an expert class. The cast of 
62ft. by Miss Stoddard was a good one, long enough to 
catch a trout on the farther side of an Adirondack spring- 
hole in July; and she was roundly applauded for it. 
and Mr. H. W. Martin presented her with a reel in 
token of her skill. . , . , , 
There was one feature of the Exposition which longer 
lingers in memory than some others. Mr. Robe't B. 
Lawrence was asked how he enjoyed it. He shrank 
his thought beneath its dome, and after ctmcentrutmg 
ii. replied: "The fly-casting is the great attraction, with 
its gathering of old friends. We miss, however, the 
silence of the Harlem Mere, in Central Park, because 
when that blaring brass band is not tooting. and_ its 
members go out to beer up, there is another thing, just 
opposite the horseless carriage, that wakes up, and lhat 
is a horseless piano, which iterates and reiterates the 
same old tunes over and over again. It goes with a. 
spring, or like a chainless bicycle, and if by chance it 
stops before the band begins again, we get a chance to 
hear the moose-call, the only melody that is to be tound 
in the Exposition." . . 
An Adirondack guide, who, having no moose 111 his 
region and consequently not caring for the moose- calls 
from the Maine camps, said: "I think that the m.-ose- 
call is the most mournful sound I ever heard, but 1 love 
that band and the piano," 
