Uct. i, i8g8.J 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
269 
Proprietors of fishing resorts will find it profitable to advertise 
them in Forest and Stream. 
"Where to go. 
One important, useful and considerable part of the Forest antj 
Stream's service to the sportsmen's community is the information 
given inquirers for shooting and fishing resorts. We make it our 
business to know where to send the sportsman for large or small 
game, or in quest of his favorite fish, and this knowledge is freely 
imparted on request. 
On the other hand, we are constantly seeking information of this 
character for the benefit of our patrons, and we invite sportsmen, 
hotel proprietors and others to communicate to us whatever may be 
of advantage to the sportsman tourist. 
Down Among the Fishes. 
One hot day in July a great and ancient pike was lying 
at his ease in the shadow of his own roof of hlypads 
and blossoms in as good humor with himself and all else 
in his watery world as was possible, for he had just 
swallowed one of his great-grandchildren a foot long 
who had recently done the same by a young perch who 
had just dined on a plump minnow, 
Having all these diners and dinners inside him and 
no room for another, he was obliged, if not quite con- 
tent to be at peace with his fellow tishes, while he waited 
oh digestion. Some of his lesser kinsfolk being aware 
of his enforced amiability, gathered about him in the 
hope of learning some useful lessons from his long and 
varied experience. Those who knew themselves to be 
too large for him to swallow ventured quite near, but 
those who were of a size that might find easy or eyen 
crowded accommodations in his maw modestly took 
back places. Even at that distance a creeping feeling 
shivered along their scales when the old pike turned a 
cruel eye upon them, as if calculating their length as to 
that of his own stomach. 
"Say, Uncle," a 5-pounder of the inner circle re- 
marked, by way of starting conversation out oi the 
channel of commonplace observations on the warmth 
and clearance of the water, "I s'pose you've had some 
prettv clust shaves one way mother?" 1 
"Glump!" The patriarch belched out a mouthful of 
water contemptuously. "You bet your gi.ls, if I hadn't 
kep' my eyes peeleder 'n some o' you young fellers does 
I wouldn't be a-layin' here!" 
"Course," said the first speaker. "But didn't them at 
was older 'n you never put you up to tilings? That's 
what we want." And the 5-pounder rubbed a bleeding- 
jaw on a lily stem that moored a purple-bottomed pad 
to the great root below. 
"Ah, I see!" The old pike grinned to the gills, dis 
closing every one of his cruel fangs. "You've been a- 
foolin' wi' some o' them cussed men's contraptions. 
Drowned 'em! I do' know why they can't torment what's 
a shore, instead o' comin' here a-botherin' us! We don't 
gp a-travelin' 'round on land arter things 'at lives there. 
Not but what I'd admire to swaller one o' their young 
ims if I could git a holt o' one 't would go down, but I 
never saw one 't was small enough. Frogs looks like 
'em, an' that's one reason why I luf tu swaller 'em. There 
is one pokin' his nose over the edge o' that hlypad up 
there," he observed casually, as his keen eyes detected 
a white chin a little beyond the purple rim of a leaf, 
it's owner quite unconscious of the danger lurking so 
close beneath it. "Now, if I was the least mite hungry, 
or had an inch o' room inside of me back o' my mouth, 
I'd just bump my nose agin the under side o' that pad 
an' off he'd jump, an' then—" he opened and shut his 
jaws suggestively, and at the hint a pike drifted upward 
from the inner circle of the audience until he struck the 
lilypad smartly with his snout. The startled frog sprang 
overboard all asprawl, and had scarcely made a stroke 
before the jagged jaws closed upon him. 
"Pretty well done, nevvy!" the old pike was pleased 
to remark, as the chief performer in the brief 'tragedy 
complacently resumed his place in the circle. "But I 
da' say you'd ha' grabbed him jes' so careless if he'd 
'a' come along past here straight-legged wi' a string 
haulin' of him?" 
The unblinking eyes of the successful frogger asked, 
••Why not?" 
"Course you would," chuckled his old kinsman, "but 
le' me tell ye, you do' want ter tech no frog 'at ; goes 
without kickin', 'cause he's got a hook in him, an' he's 
a-bein' towed, an', furder 'n that, you do' wanter never 
tech no sort o' thing— fish, frog, grub, worm, fly, nor 
bug, genawine or so seem in'— 'at's got a string hitched 
to it, 'cause you may depend there's one o' them men 
to t'other end on't a-figurin' to ketch ye, an' if you tech 
his riggin' you'll git hurt, or wus." 
"That's so," he of the wounded jaw affirmed, very 
emphatically, "It hain't more'n two hours sen' I found 
that out to my sorrow. I was hungrier 'n a mud turkle," 
he continued in reply to the inquiring eyes turned upon 
him, "an' there wa'n't so much as a drowned bug or a 
worm 'at had got adrift. I was as holler as an' ol' caddis 
shell, when along come a boat wi' some men in it an' 
scairt me int' the weeds. I noticed they was a-draggin' 
a string behind, but didn't think nothin' on't, an' then, as 
I lay, I see somethin' 'at looked like a shiner, an' when 
it got ag'in me I just lit out for it. Great gars! When 
I shet on to it, it was harder n a clam shell, an' broke one 
of my best teeth short off, an' next I knowed there was 
a hook snagged in my upper jaw, an' I was a-bein' yarned 
along spite of all my back-finnin' an' crookin' my tail, an' 
takin' water into my mouth faster 'n I could pump it 
out o' my gills.' Then I see it was that plaguey string 
that was a-fetchin' of me towards the boat, an' I could 
see one o' them men a-haulin' it in slow and steady. I 
changed ends, but it wa'n't no use. I was keeled over 
or turned 'round every time, an' so when I was most 
busted an' choked to death wi' more water 'n I could 
hold I gin up an' let 'em haul me, a-cussin' my foolish- 
ness every inch I went. When the man pulled me up 
alongside an' both of 'em grinnin' like two clams— it 
didn't seem as if there was a wiggle left in me— an' I 
thought it was all up with me, when the man h'isted me 
out o' the water by the hook. It hurt so tormentedly 'at 
I give a kick wi' my tail, an' happened to hit the side 
o' the boat, an' the hook le' go, an' back I come. You 
may scale me if I didn't hustle for the bottom, an' here 
I be." 
The old pike grinned unsympathetically, whereat the 
other with evident pique said, "Wall, I heard the feller 
'at had a holt o' the string say, as I was a-goin' down, 
'That's the biggest fish I ever see, an' I've lost him!' " 
The patriarch laughed till the water boiled around him. 
"You big! Oho, my gills. That's what them men 
always says when they lose a fish, if it hain't no more'n 
a minny." 
"You are about as big as they make 'em,'' said another, 
admiring the proportions of the aged patriarch. 
"Well, I hain't exactly a minny," said the old pike, 
swelling his sides a little more, "but you'd ought to 
seen my grandfather." 
"Bigger 'n you be?" 
"Glumph! he could ha' swallered you as easy as I 
could a shiner. There was lots to eat them times, an' 
a pike had a chance to grow afore he run ag'in some o' 
them men's devilish contraptions." 
"What come on him?" the younger pike inquired. 
"Oh, he got half-blind an' kinder childish when he 
was about fifty year' old, an' he went an' got ketched 
m a seine. Oh, them men is the worst enemy we've 
got. Kingfishers an' herons an' fish-hawks, minks an' 
otters, all hain't a chaw of a ininny to 'em, an' they get 
thicker every year. I wish 't there'd come a flood an' 
drowii'd the hull bilin' oi 'em! They hain't got me yet, 
but I spect like's not they will some time, always a-study- 
in' some new devilment. Long ago, as when I wa'n't 
more'n a Hoot long, they didn't troll wi' nothin' more'n 
a rag o' red cloth an' a piece o' pork rinc or a strip o' 
pickeral's belly, wi' one hook, Ol' humpback grannies a- 
paddlin' log canews an' a-smokin' their pipes slow an' 
comfortable. 
"Then they got up shiney contraptions, some 'at wob- 
bled an' some 'at whirled. They didn't look like nothin' 
we'd ever see' afore, but you'd wanter ketch a holt on 
'em an' find out what they was, an' one thing you allers 
would find, an' that was a hook hitched to em', jest as 
ye will now to every consarn they drag 'round in the 
water. Now they've got sham frogs an' sham minifies 
'at looks nat'ral as life, but there's hooks to 'em all, 
like as not half a dozen to ketch ye by both jaws. 
"There hain't only one safe way, an' that is to steer 
clear of everything that's hitched to a string. Then 
there's nets, an' they're made o' strings too. ihey've 
had a slap at rne wi' most all them fixin's, an' so's all 
the critters that goes for us, but they hain't got ol' 
Long Face yet," and the old veteran looked wise and 
self-satisfied, smiling complacently to the corners of his 
jaws.~ 
"Now say. Uncle, you Lell us all about your scrapes, 
won't ye?" entreated one of (he larger of his audience. 
The garrulity of age was upon the old pike, and he 
needed little coaxing to become reminiscent. So after 
a few preliminary gulps to clear his throat he began, 
while those about lent attentive ears. 
"About the first clust. shave I remember a-havin' was 
when I wa'n'l. more'n six inches long. I was a-swimmin' 
along in the ma'sh a-lookin' for a small frog or minny 
t' eat, when an' ol' water snake 'at was on the same 
errand popped out'n a bunch o' rushes an' grabbed me 
by the tail. My "-ills! wa'n't I scairt, an' didn't I dig 
int' the water wi' every loose fin! But his ol' gooms 
stuck like grim death, an' he started for the shore, 
which if he got me onto he'd finish me mighty quick. 
I've seen 'em since, when they'd git a fish on t' the 
shore where he hadn't no holt on the water, an' they'd 
down him in two skips of a water bug. 
"I could see the dead weeds a-linin' the shore an' the 
grass on the bank above, an' thinks, says I, 'it's good- 
bye, little pickerel.' But just then I felt his jaws slip 
a little mite, an' he le' go to git a better holt, but he 
wa'n't quite quick enough, an' I made my fins fly like a 
popple leaf an' out I slipped, his jaws poppin' together 
a scale's breadth from my tail like bustin' in an air 
bladder. Afore he got over beiu' astonished I was fur 
'nough away, an' you bet your gills I kept my eyes 
peeleder 'an a skinned eel for such critters till I got 
so big they was fearder o' me 'an I was o' them. 
"About the disagreeablest feelin' I ever had inside 
of me was oncte when I'd got to be 'bout as big as 
you be, I come acrost a water snake 'at I reckoned was 
about my fit, an' so I grabbed him by his ugly mug 
jest out o' spite for the scare one of his kind had gi'n 
me years afore. He tangled his self 'round my jaws an' 
.squirmed an' hel' back like a good feller, but I chawed 
away at him, an' finally gathered him in. He tasted 
wus'n a nest o' young stake drivers, but that wasn't 
nothin' to the feelin' of his tail, 'at kept a wigglin' in 
my throat an' a ticklin' of it till sundown, an' it was in 
the mornin' I ketched him; I never hankered arter an- 
other sech fish." 
He spat out a mouthful of water disgustedly and con- 
tinued his story: 
"Another time when I was a little feller I was a-layin' 
m a shaller a-sunnin' of me, an' the' come a blotch of a 
shadder a-skivin' over the water, an' stopped a piece 
oft from me. I looked up to see what made it, an' there 
right over me a bird was a-stan'in' still in the air a-flat- 
tening his wings an' a-lookin' down at me. 
"Then all of a sudden he shet his wings an' come 
down head first, quick as a raindrop. Think, says I, 
'suthin's killed him,' an' I gin a stroke of all my fins so't 
he wouldn't fall top on me, an' he jest missed it by an 
inch, ccmiin' ker slosh int' the water, an' pretty nigh 
scarin' on me out o' my skin. Then out he went as quick 
as he come in, a-clatterin' like pourin' gravel onto a 
rock, an' hung himself up in the air ag'in to dry, I 
thought mebby, but in a half a minute down he come 
ag'in, an' that time right top o' one o' my brothers, 
which he carried off in his mouth an' I seen him swal- 
ler, settin' top of a stake. Arter that I kep' shy o' him 
an' his kind till I got too big for their use." 
"I got chased by minks an' sheldrakes an' loons an' 
big fish an' had some mighty clust chances o' keepin' 
the scales on my back, an' the wust on't was I hadn't no 
sooner outgtowed one lot on 'em 'an there was another 
waitin' for me. When 1 got too big for a blue heron 
to spear me. one day, when sleep! u' in the sun, down 
come a broad shadder o' wings, an' afore I was half 
awake the claws of a fish hawk was sot on my back 
an' the next minute i was a thrashin' the air with my 
tail, ten foot above the water, I wiggled an' twisted an' 
snapped my jaws, but it wa'n't no use. Up I went fur- 
der and furder, our images growin' smaller an' smaller 
on the water beneath us 'til his'n looked like a swaller 
an' mine like a minny, an' then a-gittin' dizzy, I looked 
up an' see a bigger fowl 'an my fish hawk a-comin' for 
US. • A v 
"The- hawk got hi.; best flop 011, but it wa'n't no use, 
the big feller's shadder covered him. an' his claws was 
a-reachin J for the hawk's back. Havin' all he could 
'tend to to take care of hisself. the hawk le' go of 
me an' down "f went head fust, an' then it 'peared it was 
me the big chap was arter, for he gin the hawk a slap 
wi' his wing 'at sort upsot 'em both, an' then he came 
a-scootin' for me. But I struck the water a secunt ahead 
on him, an' slid down, down, till my nose struck the 
mud, an' he come down ker slosh right where I lit, 
"He gathered himself up an' went off a-rainiug like a 
cloud at every flop of his wings, till he got to the top of 
a big tree, an' there he sot a-sulkin' an hour, while I lay 
in the weeds a-nussin' my sore back, an' the scars shows 
yet. 
"Mr. Fish-hawk's gone, but you can see that same or 
eagle 'most any day a-watchin' out from a tall tree or 
a-swimmin' the" sky above the top o' the world." 
Rowland E. Roeinson 
[to be CONTINUED.] 
Bass Fishing on the Greenbrier.— IIL 
The country is as dry now as it was wet during the 
summer, and in this the latter part of September the river 
has dwindled until the bass are in the pools, and they 
can be butchered by those who know how.' The fisher 
can stand in the water and good-sized bass come up and 
swim before him. but the motion of the rod frightens 
them, and they rarely take the bait in his sight. To 
those that fish in muddy water it may be a mystery 
how bass perform when they take the bait. I have seen 
several bite lately. The bass takes the bait by making 
motions with his fins as if he were working, and having 
got a good hold, moves off steadily, if he has no com- 
petition. If there is another bass to rob him, he will 
go off with the rush that is so exciting. 
With the waters at this stage the wisest thing a man 
can do is hunt for a pool where he can see fish swimming 
about, and then go in to catch them. If the bass are 
moving they can be caught. The first bass is an indica- 
tor of the. wealth of the pool, for all the bass which 
are ready for the sacrifice come crowding around the 
one struggling in the water, and the keen-eyed fisher is 
electrified "by the sight of a mass of moving fins, indicat- 
ing there is a lot of sport awaiting him. When caught 
the bass generally ejects the bait, which slips up on the 
leader, and is presently Hipped off in the fight, and 
nabbed by some of the pack at his heels. The bass that 
gets that bait needs to have harness on his throat or he 
will be the next victim. 
I was fishing in the Burnside Hole one afternoon 
lately, and had a bass nearly up to me, when the big 
white crawfish bait was torn loose, and one of the big- 
gest bass that ever grew flashed by and took it. This 
particular fish is no doubt hook proof, but if it is ever 
caught it will be in the papers. 
Fly-fishing is over for this year. The fish will simply 
not take a fly. in sufficient numbers to justify, fishing 
that way. I cannot endure to work more than twice as 
hard fly-fishing for the bag of fish that could be secured 
by bait fishing. It is the finer sport to take them with 
a fly, but if barren of results the man had as well be 
sentenced to penal servitude at once. I used to be 
conscience struck when I had caught fish with bait, while 
my companion had faithfully fly-fished and caught noth- 
ing. He would put on such a conscientious look of 
having done his duty, and not dirtied his hands with 
bait fishing, that he deserved to be immortalized as a 
martyr to fly-fishing. Then Francis Francis solemnly 
lays down the rule for all men, to either confine them- 
selves to fly-fishing or bait-fishing if they would be 
orthodox. He does not entirely bar the bait-fisher out 
of the kingdom. My motto is: "Get fish— with the fly 
if you can, but get fish!" and if that be treason, gentle- 
men, make the most of it. 
Is the mind of man, which has wrought such changes 
on the face of the earth in establishing the civilization 
as it exists to-day, too small to enable him to become 
proficient in both branches of this art? Can he not 
master both? The born fisherman would wile the fish 
from the water if he were a castaway on a desert island 
in overalls. The living, breathing, progressive man 
ought to take all the bass which are hungry 
for fuzz and feathers with fly, and then catch the rest 
of the family with good wholesome bait. 
There are some fly-fishers who will class me as being 
worse than an infidel to thus express myself. But there 
is a lot of fraud practiced by some fly-fishers. I saw 
a line in this journal where a gushing fly-fisher says to 
his friend: "You'll be catching. 'em with fly with the 
best of us some day." What a pat on the shoulder! 
What encouragement! What a future that man has to 
look forward to! They had me cowed once until I 
thought only the elect could fish with a fly, until one 
day when 1 had failed bait-fishing I put on an old bat 
tered bass fly, and caught fifteen before I stopped. That 
was an eye-opener for me, and I profited by it. I made 
the same discovery as .to trout, and from the first found 
that on some days I was more destructive with fly than 
bait. Now, when the aristocratic fly-fisher puts on any 
airs about me, I feel like dropping into slang and saying. 
"You ain't so warm !" _ 
These waters have recently been visited by two Lon- 
don gentlemen, who came here directly from Norway, 
where they had been trout fishing. One of them, Mr. E. 
T. G. Wilson, is an eminent lawyer of London, and 
owner of the Ormonde House, and the other, Mr. Brom- 
ley, is a gentleman of leisure. Neither had ever seen 
a bass, and I am sorry to say' that their entire catch 
was about one to every thousand miles traveled T had 
