4BO 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[June 4, 1898. 
[Days on the St» Lawrence. — IL 
From unpublished manuscript of S. H. Hammond, autlior of 
"Wild Northern Scenes." By courtesy of Mr. Hammond Van 
Vechten. 
In the preceding chapter I endeavored to describe to 
yoUj my excellent friend, sunrise out here upon the 
St. Lawrence, a phenomenon that never occurs in the 
city. True, you have succession of day and night, dark- 
ness and daylight, evening and morning, midnight 
and noonday; but sunrise never happens in a city. You 
never see the day god gather up his reins and bound into 
his chariot of fire. You never see him leap into the sky 
from his couch beyond the mountains or behind the hills, 
or awa3^ down in the depths of ocean, or under the broad 
waters of the great lakes. You may see him, to be 
sure, moving lazily in mid heaven, blazing down upon 
piled up bricks and mortar, upon glowing sidewalks, 
sending his searching rays along glimmering streets. 
You see him only in dull, heavy, burning monotony, dim- 
med in glory, robbed of brightness, by the smoke and 
haze and dust, and a thousand villainous exhalations that 
go up from your aggregation of factories, workshops, 
furnaces, and all the contrivances through which human 
labor gathers its pittance of daily bread. You feel his 
blistering heart and pant beneath the blaze of his ever- 
lasting furnace, but you never see him rise in his majesty. 
No! No! There is no sunrise in a city. 
Well, I saw the sun rise. I watched, and admired, and 
shouted, and hurrahed, and sang as of old, when the 
darkness and the night shadows vanished away, and 
brightness and glory were over all the earth again. But 
even here in the country, on the banks, and on waters 
of the St. Lawrence, the heat of the morning became op- 
pressive. The sun marched up into the heavens, and 
blazed away, sending his burning rays through a move- 
less atmosphere down upon the parched earth. Every 
living thing sought a refuge from the fierceness of his 
glare. The birds ceased their melody, and flew away 
into 'the forest depths; cattle gathered under the shadows 
of the trees; sheep huddled along the fences, and the pigs 
wallowed in the tepid mire. Who were we (I mean 
my boatman and myself) that we, alone of all the world, 
should brave the power of the sun, as he careered in his 
might across the sky? We gathered in our lines and 
went ashore. 
Toward midday, great ogre looking clouds came loom- 
ing up in somber majesty into the sky, rising higher 
and blacker, till the sun, gathering the dark and ragged 
thunderheads like a mantle around him, hid himself- in 
their gloomy folds. Anon the low growl of the thunder 
came booming over the water: faint flashes of lightning 
glanced across the face of the clouds. Blacker and 
blacker grew the heavens. A long line of storm reached 
all across the west, rising higher and higher, rolling up 
like the outer curtain that hides the stage of some vast 
theater. Louder and louder rolled the thunder, and 
fiercer flashed the lightning until, with a rush and a roar, 
the wind and the rain, the lightning and the thunder, in 
one wild uproar were upon us. Hurrah! for the strife 
of the elements! Hurrah! for the whirl and crash, the 
hissing and plashing of the storm, the tug of the wind, 
the glare of the lightning, the loud explosion, the .sud- 
den boom of heaven's artillery and its deep, jarring roll 
across the sky. For an hour the rain poured, the wind 
blew, the lightning flashed, and the thunder roared, as 
the rain, and the wind, and the lightning, and the thunder 
can pour and blow and flash and roar in these watery 
regions. And then cloitds passed on, calmness suc- 
ceeded the tempest, the sun looked out with a mild radi- 
ance, the bow of promise spanned with a circle of glory 
the retiring storm; the odors of forest and field filled 
the air, and freshness and beauty lighted up the face of 
all things again. The foam vanished from the crest of 
the waves, the billows that rolled in from the broad lake 
beat with a sullen sound against the shore as the storm 
passed away, and subsided to stillness, at last in the 
calmness that followed the warring elements. 
Three miles below Cape Vincent is Carlton Island, 
containing some twelve hundred acres, o£f the south side 
of which is the best still fishing for bass in this region. 
At the head of the island are the ruins of an ancient forti- 
fication, built by the French long ago, when all this por- 
tion of the country was a wilderness: when the savage 
tribes lorded it over a territory reaching from the Hud- 
son River to the limitless North and West: long 
before Wolfe purchased the splendid victory of Quebec 
at the cost of his own life, or Montcalm atoned for his de- 
feat by his death on the Heights of Abraham. I call 
these ruins ancient. They are so only by comparison. _ In 
this country there is nothing ancient, save the mountains, 
the forests, the prairies, the lakes, and the rivers. These 
have been here from the beginning of time, are primeval 
things, lying back of civilization; but the results of 
human labor, ruined though they be, though desolation, 
decay, and forgetfulness have swept over them, yet they 
art not ancient, but modern, belonging almost to the era 
in which we live. And still this fort has already dropj^ed 
out of history, leaving no record of its origin, by whom 
it was erected, or by whom commanded. All we know 
is that it was a French fortification, built when all above 
Montreal and west of the Hudson was one vast wilder- 
ness, and was abandoned before the conquest of Canada 
by the English. The ditches and walls, with a few 
isolated chimneys, laid in stone and cement, from which 
everything of wood has long since rotted away, stand- 
ing in solitary desolation, defying time and decay; a 
great well some 20ft. in diameter and 60 in depth, ^ex- 
cavated in the solid rock, are all that remain of the "old 
fort" on Carlton Island. Connected with this old well 
superstition has invented many a legend; some of horror, 
which speak of dead men's bones that He away down m 
its depths, beneath the old logs and timber with vyhich 
it is partly filled, and some of treasures hidden in its 
waters from the greed of men who carried it by storm 
a century or more ago. All over the site of the "old 
fort" are lilac, rose, currant and gooseberry bushes, 
eherfy and plum trees, and various kinds of vegetables, 
now become wild and indigenous, growing spontaneous- 
ly, without care or cultivation, the originals of which, 
like the hand tliat planted them, have been dust for 
more than a hundred years. Old buttons, occasionally 
an old coin, buckles of silver and of steel, pieces of 
swords, pistol barrels, leaden bullets and iron balls, all 
oxidized and eaten with rust, have been picked up by 
the careful searchers after relics. Off a little way to the 
north is the old burying ground, with a few broken 
fragments of what once were tombstones, but voiceless, 
bearing no inscriptions, calling no names, telling no his- 
tory, save that human dust is reposing beneath them, and 
that human affections and human hopes, ambition, pride, 
glor}'', sleep quietly in that deserted citj' of the dead. 
The site of the "old fort" remains untouched, while 
all around it are cultivated fields, rich pastures, beauti- 
ful meadows, and waving grain, leaving the dead things 
of saA^age and bloody times, and the fields that bloom 
around tliem, to preach their living sermon of the glory 
of peace, and the superiority of the plowshare and the 
pruning hook over the battle axe and the sword. 
I found, in the old graveyard, a fragment of blue lime- 
stone, such as underlies the island, as large perhaps as 
a sheet of foolscap, which had doubtless once stood at 
the head of one of these forgotten graves. The inscrip- 
tion was wholly illegible save the word "Pierre." Time 
had eaten away all else, leaving even this much difficult 
to decipher. "And who was Pierre?" I inquired of the 
"dull, cold marble," and of the spirits of the dead men, 
if they hovered around where the dust which they once 
inhabited reposed. "Who was this Pierre, whose name 
alone, of all those who slumber here, has been preserved? 
Was he of a proud lineage, a scion of a noble house, a 
man linked by the ties of affection to loving hearts? 
Was he the pride of a father, the idol of a mother, the 
hope of a wife? Or was he of the baser sort, fit food 
for the wars, whose proper element was strife, and 
whose normal destiny was to die and be forgotten, above 
Avhose grave few tears were shed, and by whose death 
no hopes were shattered, no affections crushed, no home 
made desolate?" To these inquiries no answer was 
given. The grave retained its secret. No voice respond- 
ed from the oblivion that had settled down upon that 
desolate graveyard, and the silence that reigns there to- 
day will brood over it forever. The plowshare will 
pass heedlessly over these graves and the bones of these 
"dead men" will fatten the soil for the harvest. "Pierre" 
was faintlj' legible upon that fragment of stone, and it 
remains, in mockery of human research, all of history 
that is extant connected with the dust reposing beneath 
it. Sic transit, and so forth. 
CHICAGO AND THE WEST. 
The Fishing Season. 
Ctiicago, 111., May 25. — To-day is the opening season 
on bass in the State of Wisconsin, and thus one of the 
most popular fishing regions of this part of the West is 
made available for the angling fraternity, who have been 
looking longingly at their rods, and waiting for a chance 
at the Wisconsin bass. The closed season for bass in 
Wisconsin is March i to May 25, yet, in all probability, 
this does not entirely cover the spawning season of that 
fish. I have seen bass on the spawning beds in lakes of 
upper Wisconsin in the latter part of July. In ordinary 
seasons, however, the greater part of the spawning run 
is over by June i, and that date is commonly accepted 
by the craft as one at which it is proper to begin fishing 
for bass. 
Wisconsin does not protect any fish under its present 
law excepting bass and trout, that is to say, it allows 
fishing with hook and line in the inland waters, at all 
seasons of the year, excepting for these two varieties ^ f 
fish during their closed seasons. This law permits the 
use of spears on certain coarse fish in the daytime. It 
does not say anything about a close season for muscal- 
longe or pickerel. I have heard several gentlemen speak 
of a supposed closed season on 'lunge or pickerel in the 
State of Wisconsin, but none such exists under the pres- 
ent law. It has been quite lawful to angle for a muscal- 
longe or pickerel at any time during the spring. 
I have not heard this week of any additional muscal- 
longe news from Wisconsin, though reports come of 
three nice muscallonge, one of a^lbs. weight, taken last 
week at St. Clair, Mich., one of which was sent to the 
well-knoAvn Chicago angler, Mr. J. Frank Lawrence. I 
have earlier spoken of the fact that the muscallonge were 
beginning to rise well in the waters of the Manitowish 
chain. I should think it entirely safe, as an angling 
proposition, to start for that country now. Both bass 
and muscallonge should give good sport for the next 
three weeks at least, and longer if the season should 
prove cool, and not speedily run into hot weather. The 
month of June is, of course, the peer of all angling 
months in this part of the country. With the hot season 
of July and August comes that mysterious "bloom" upon 
the water which wa^ for so many years advanced, at least 
in this part of the world, as the reason why the mus- 
callonge would not rise. It is curious how inforrnation 
sometimes goes in waves. I must confess that in my 
own ignorance I blindly accepted the "bloom" theory 
until last year, when I first began to get track of the 
fact that the muscallonge sheds its teeth in the summer 
season, and hence has small heart for the tempting but 
hard-shelled spoon. This season I have heard two or 
three Wisconsin anglers speak in a matter-of-fact way 
of the dullness of the muscallonge when it is shedding its 
teeth It is fair to suppose, therefore, that the dental 
operations of the muscallonge are known to a portion of 
the public, and perhaps mav have been known for many 
years although I never hapnened to stumble across the 
fart myself until last year. I have heard dozens or 
scores of railroad men, resort keepers, anglers and 
guides give the advice never to go after muscallonge 
during the summer, "because then, you know, the bloom 
is on the water, and they won't bite." I have seen the 
bloom rubbed off a good many things m niy life, but i 
never saw any attempt to rub it off the Wisconsin lakes 
until the recent advices in Forest and Stream which 
indicate that it is not a case of "bloom,' but of teeth. 
How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a tooth- 
less 'lunge! 
Bass Grounds. 
Mr D J. Hotchkiss, of Fox Lake, Wis., writes me 
very cheerfully in regard to the bass fishing in Fox 
T ake It should be borne in mind that this water is not 
the Illinois Fox Lake, of which we hear so much, but 
the Upper Fox Lake, which I take to be a better and less 
overrun sporting ground, although there is very good 
fishing at times to be found in the Illinois Fox Lake and 
adjacent waters. Mr. Hotchkiss says: 
"We want the members of Forest and Stream family 
to become better acquainted with our place here, and be- 
lieve we have as fine fishing grounds as any in the State. 
The lake is full of black bass, large and small mouth 
both, and they are ready for business now. I hope you 
can be able to get away for a day or so, and come up. I 
will be pleased to show you some good bass grounds, and 
guarantee that the bass are at home. We farmers don't 
understand catching them very well, but one who knows 
how can have a picnic, and I will take great pleasure in 
assisting any member of the family to some good fishing 
any time they come up. 
_ "If any of the folks want to get out away from the 
city and lay around in the shade on the lake shore, 
swing in hammocks, and enjoy cottage life or hotel ac- 
commodations at moderate rates, that's our long suit, 
and we can fix 'em out in good shape." 
The above writer is a newspaper man himself, and 
hence can do no wrong. I think this country is very 
well worth bearing in mind, both for angling and shoot- 
ing. Some Milwaukee gentlemen, who have a shooting 
box there, nearly always meet with good luck with the 
wildfowl in season. There are squirrels and grouse in 
season, and undoubtedly bass, and very big bass, be- 
cause Mr. Hotchkiss sends pictures showing strings of 
bass some of which are nearly large enough to take a year- 
ling colt for bait. The gentlemen of this favored locality, 
who can go out fishing without the necessity of railroad 
and sleeping car tickets, are among the lucky ones of 
the earth, but as they are willing to share their luck 
generously with all the members of the goodly Forest 
and Stream family, I presume the next best thing is to 
secure the aforesaid tickets, and go up to assist in sub- 
jugating the bass before they become dangerous to bath- 
ing parties and other live stock. 
Some time ago a gentleman wrote me regarding the 
splendid bass fishing on the Wolf Ri^^er, near Qill's Land- 
ing. I presume that for minnow fishing for big bass and 
well-eyed pike there are few better localities than this. 
All of that chain of waters is fed by the inland sea "of 
Winnebago Lake. The latter water has been much 
fished, but the fight of protection has been most bitterly 
waged there by the energetic warden, Capt. Johnson, and 
his men. Stories of the many arrests and encounters 
have often appeared in the columns of Forest and 
Stream, but the net result of all this is a series of 
streams well stocked with bass. 
The Northern Fox River, above Princeton, Wis., is a 
good bass stream, and above all a fine stream for fly- 
fishing for bass. There is without doubt a difference 
between streams in the matter of sport with the fly 
on black bass. The angler who wets a fly for bass in 
the Northern Fox this year will be a lucky one. 
Puckaway Lake, Wis., is the location of the Neepeen- 
auk Club, of Chicago, a very good body of sportsmen, 
whose chief interest in the club preserves lies in the 
duck shooting. Yet this club is much patronized" by 
the members in the summer months, and the fishing in 
the river adjoining is said to be fine. Mr. Oswald von 
Lengerke, of Von Lengerke & Antoine, this city, will 
go up on Saturday next for a few days' fishing at this 
club. He anticipates fine fly-fishing for bass, and I 
hope his dreams may come true, for we have few lines 
of sport in this part of the West offering keener pleasure 
than that of black bass fishing with the fly, when the 
bass are really rising. A few years ago we had a great 
run of bait casting in Chicago, and indeed the fancy for 
that sort of sport has not much abated, but we begin to 
hear of more men who go after black Isass with the fly- 
rod. I have often proved, to my own satisfaction, th^it 
the fly-rod will kill about all the bass one cares for in 
almost any water where the bass will rise to any bait, al- 
though, of course, if one wished to make a very heavy 
catch, he would prefer the bait rod. 
Speaking of fly-fishing waters for bass reminds me 
to say that Chicago anglers this summer should not for- 
get the stretch of water in the Illinois Fox River, about 
three miles from Elgin. Here there may usually be found 
in the average stage of water at the latter part of June a 
stretch of river a couple of miles long where one can 
wade and take the bass on the fly. Sometimes the bass 
work in very shallow water in shore, hunting among the 
rocks for crawfish and helgramites. The water is usually 
clear, and it takes a long line to kill one's fish, but if one 
gets the knack of it he can have great sport here when 
the bass are working in the shallows. Mr. Elmer Wil- 
kinson, of this city, who has been going to this place for 
some years, tells me that he sometimes has splendid 
sport there. This is very accessible from Chicago, and 
the fl^r-fisher of this city who makes this trip will find 
many skillful lovers of the fly-rod in the pleasant city of 
Elgin. 
Mr. Otto L. Tosetti and party will leave next Satur- 
day for Little Trout Lake, Wis., on an extended trip 
for bass and muscallonge. Mr. Tosetti is an angler of 
wide experience in this country and in Europe. 
Mr. J. M. Oliver, a well-known attorney of Chicago, 
would rather go fishing than practice the most gilt-edged 
sort of law. Mr. Oliver will go to the Nepigon River 
this summer, to extend his already wide acquaintance 
with the Lake Superior country. He fished the Two 
Hearts when they were wilder than they are to-day, and 
has attended the obsequies of many a lusty trout in his 
day. This week Mr. Oliver got the fishing fever very 
badly, and concluded that he could not be happy withoiit 
catching some small-mouth, black mottled, red-eyed bass. 
Some of his friends are to start next Saturday for Ka- 
bekona Camp, in Minnesota, and Mr. Oliver will in all 
probability accompany them, although he is disposed to 
think the bass fishing will be better a little later. Mr. 
McCartney, proprietor of Kabekona Camp, is now ab- 
sent at that point, and is expected back next Sunday. 
We shall then hear how matters piscatorial are doing in 
that neck of woods. 
Minnesota Fishing. 
The bass season appears to be a red h&t onfe otl{ in 
Minnesota this spring. I see reports of very fine catches 
in Lake Harriet, Lake Sarah, Lake Waconia and other 
well-known waters. The bass are reported to be rismg 
better than is usually the case at so early a date. I note 
