88« 
FOREST AND StftSA&t 
{Oct, 7^, i$m, 
_. -o^x: 
bv a heavy casting trout leader 3ft. long, a slendef, 
tough Aberdeen hook baited with a silvery minnow 
properly attached, a light, tapered lead sinker, and troll 
if it be mid-summer in the deepest waters of the lake. 
When the strike comes and the fish is fastened, reel 
steadily until the line is nearly perpendicular, then stop 
and let the trout get his breath and take his time. The 
sport, nine times out of ten, will prove very satisfactory. 
Under such methods a 4lb. trout, in fairly cool water, 
will usually fight vigorously for at least fifteen minutes; 
and a iolb. trout will demand and use a full half-hour 
of time, and test the skill of an expert. 
When netted and sire L ched on the bottom of the 
boat, the lake trout is an attractive sight. His colors, 
markings, smooth skin and graceful shape indicate the 
aristocracy of the true trout family. J. W. Howe. 
Laurentian Club, September, 189a. 
A Sojourn in Canada, 
Like all that great host who have laid the basis of 
vigorous manhood in cozy country homes, I, with the 
rest, won the esteem of every gurgling brook that 
laughed its way down to the sea, and found favor with 
every wild thing in the region. For miles around 
every craggy dell, rich in its rosy fruitage of wild 
plums, was fully explored, and more fully enjoyed. We 
knew, as only boys can know, the hidden ways of all 
wild things. Our early fancies were nurtured in all 
the romances of catching squirrels, gathering wild fruits 
and berries; and an occasional theft of an afternoon 
down to a shady pool under the hemlocks. 
Grim destiny has long since substituted for tangled 
woods and shady dells, long, homely rows of brick and 
stone, and the trees are branchless affairs for the sup- 
port of wires. Instead of dropping nuts and rustling 
leaves, one hears the crash of coupling cars and the 
tireless moans of machinery. It is an old and worthy 
maxim that our earliest impressions longest survive; 
hence my early longing for the delights of field and 
forest come with lusty vigor when the trailing arbutus 
and the wake robins come in the field. 
When that subtle, magic influence that a vacation 
alone can call into being has set completely at naught 
the ravishes of "Old Father Time," I am a boy again 
raving in the delights that long, long ago charmed 
my childish heart. I diligently search out some wild 
region, that remains just as the Lord left it when He 
beheld everything He had created, and behold it was very 
good. If He saw some of it now this benediction might 
not be forthcoming. 
In my wandering I have visited nearly every region 
in northern Ontario reached by the Grand Trunk 
Railway, and found this wild country rich in everything 
that delights the heart of the canoeist and camper. 
Woods and water and wild things everywhere, and all 
bathed in an atmosphere so pure, clear and bracing 
as to render old rusty lungs young again. I have spent 
several very delightful seasons in various localities, test- 
ing nearly all the woods and waters from Lakes Simcoe 
and Muskoka to the wilderness region north of Lake 
Nippissing, and found all full of delightful experiences. 
Especially pleasing were journeys down the Magncta- 
wan River and up Lake Vernon to Hoodstown, and 
from Huntsville through Fairy and Peninsular lakes to 
Lake of Bays, where we caught plenty of great big 
speckled trout. All this vast region is a great public 
playground, full of pure delights to the hunter and 
angler, and no tourist can err in casting his lot in this 
lovely land. 
Early in August about thirty of our party arrived at 
Severn Station, 100 miles due north of Toronto; here 
we were met by Elijah S. Bennett, of Hamlet Post- 
Office, Ontario, who drove us to his home, one-half 
mile from Sparrow Lake, where the real slaughter was 
to begin early next morning. We found our quarters 
comfortable, our boarding was indeed excellent, and a 
kinder hearted Canadian I have never met. 
Early next morning a genial minister and the writer 
embarked fcr a swift current half a mile up the river. 
We found the most profitable way to fish these waters 
was to frequently troll with live minnow or small green 
frog for bait. We had our best luck while -drifting down 
the current, keeping our baits close to a fringing reef 
of wild rice and rushes that grew along the shore. 
Our first cruise down the current was rewarded by a 
very vigorous strike on my hook. I, to appear un- 
selfish, turned my rod over to my very genial com- 
panion, that he might enjoy the electric thrills that bass 
was sending itp the line from the inky waters of the 
Severn River. I was thus gracious because my friend 
had never before wet a line in these waters, and from 
my observation of his art of angling I don't think he 
had ever moistened many lines in any waters; so when 
jhe assayed to land the thing he unwittingly gave him 
some slack line, and that instant the sacred tie that binds 
was broken. Before we were out of the eddies at the 
foot of the current, a mighty tug on Sawhill's line con- 
verted a straight land Presbyterian into an old-time 
shouting Methodist, and when the struggling sinner 
in scales hove to it proved to be a 61b. pickerel, an 
unusually good fish of this kind for these waters. On 
our next cruise down the current our Presbyterian 
again turned Methodist, and the vicious way he snatched 
a struggling bass into the boat was a caution. The fickle 
fates that control destinies of the angler again sided with 
Sawhill, and he ground out another jubilee of joy that 
would have done credit to a crack regiment in a Sal- 
vation Army, when his eyes feasted on the princely pro- 
portions of an 81b. pickerel. I awkwardly assayed to 
gaff the thing with a huge hook an ardent friend of 
mine had forged himself. It was constructed on the 
lines of a navy anchor, and the first blow tore it loose 
and sent it skittering over the water. 
Our exceptional luck soon attracted a host of others, 
and we soon had boats on starboard, port and beam. 
Wilder, the most enthusiastic and successful angler of 
the lot, to avoid the confusion oE boats, ran the nose of 
his craft into the wild rice. He let his line float down 
the current, and great was his reward in bass, pickerel 
and channel cat, At length there came to his string a 
Strike that was a glad surprise to us all. His silk line 
lightened with a swish that threw the waters into a 
spray. Fifty feet away arose, in the language of the 
Chippewa, Nahma-mische Nahma — the king of fishes. 
A monster muscallonge had hurled his ponderous body 
fully 5ft. out of the water and fell back with a resounding 
crash. Old Musky's shrewd maneuver had given him 
slack line; the arching rod straightened, telling us that 
the Goliath of this gorge was gone. 
None of us dreamed that a monster big enough to bite 
off a man's leg prowled around in these waters. From 
that day it was the mission of every man in the party to 
take that 'lunge. The next afternoon Wilder thrice dis- 
tinguished himself by hitching to the big one; but each 
time his snoods were wanting. In a frenzy of eagerness 
he used a soft copper wire snood, and found his line 
lacking. The next morning I shied my castor into the 
angling arena; having cut off about 20ft. of my line 
that had been wet too often to be safe. I had a wrapped 
wire snood and a strong hook, and my assurance was 
great. I had run the current several times, and was rest- 
ing in a whirling eddy under the branches of an over- 
hanging butternut. The sun was hot. and I enjoyed the 
shade. Boylike, I had to see if my bait was on. The 
line was fast, I fancied, to the roots of the butternut; 
but in an instant the line fairly zipped through the 
water, and twanged with the strain, as the noble fish 
fled to his lair to the lee of the rice bed. I hung to 
him, lessening the strain wherever I could, but was 
hampered by too little line. When my line had all • 
played out, the fish headed straight up the channel, tow- 
ing my boat with him. An old Scotchman, camped 
hard by, ran wildly up the shore, shouting directions how 
to handle him. "Fd gie twa pound for a sicht o' him. 
He'll gae at least 8 stone. I've fished here mony a year, 
but never saw a fight like than." Well, up the channel 
there was a change of tactics, the noble fellow wheeled 
and dashed down the current, No sort of tackle could 
equal the strain, and I sat bitterly lamenting. For fully 
fifteen minutes the contest had lasted, and I was tired. 
Next day Rev. Montgomery, as genial an apostle of 
the gentle art as ever wet a line, arrived from Pitts- 
burg. In due season he was informed of the crocodile 
at the current. George was a classmate of mine in the 
early 8o's, and one of those great, good-hearted fellows 
who had rendered my sojourn in that college an experi- 
ence of pure delight, He had an unusual stock of self 
assurance, natural to lrfen of great courage and ability. 
Brown, the Pittsburg tackle man, had fitted him out 
with a real gem of a fishing string for $2.50, strong 
enough to hold a bull, and guaranteed to land anything 
from the whale that had Jonah down to a sturgeon; and 
as George embarked for the scene of the recent 
riots, even the oarlocks caught his spirit of determina- 
tion, and chuckled gleefully: "We'll git him. We'll 
git him yet." In an hour or so he got back; but a 
wheen of yards of his silken string is not back yet; and 
for ought I know, the old fellow still rules at the cur- 
rent. Thirty to fifty pounds was the estimate of the 
Scotchman. 
A peculiarity we all noticed was that when the big 
fish carried away a hook and some line he usually 
ran into the wild rice bed, and fairly lashed the water 
into a foam. The old Scotch camper assured ,us the 
fish was trying to rid himself of the hooks. 
I have read in Forest and Stream Gol. Mather's 
"Men I Have Fished With," and who, having read, did 
not enjoy them? But the man I fish wi h is a woman, and 
she knows to a nicety just how fishing ought to be 
fished. The angling is never so alluring as when my 
lady, in a gown of gray, graces the stern of the boat. 
On one of those most delightful Canadian evenings in 
August, all our party were out fishing from boats. Just 
as twilight began to fall, the guard in gray gleefully 
called out: "I have a big bite." She had. The reel 
fairly screamed, until all the line payed out and the fish 
began to tow us hither and thither. Everybody got 
excited, and I believe our party had reached the supreme 
point in angling where each enjoyed seeing his friend 
catch large fish almost as well as to catch them him- 
self. 
For full twenty minutes he kept up this gamy fight 
before he showed any signs of weakening. Thirty 
minutes after he was hooked I called to a friend on the 
shore to bring a lantern and a gaff. He came and lifted 
into his boat a mighty channel catfish. The post- 
master weighed it — lO^'lbs., and it surely must have lost 
over half its flesh in its last battle. This was the largest 
catfish caught in the Severn last season. Several years 
ago I saw one caught of ia^lbs. 
In every neighborhood there is a type who seems to 
combine the best there is in each particular locality, and 
at Sparrow Lake Reeve Stanton answers the call. He 
runs the passenger boat to and from the station to 
the lake. Kind of heart, keen of eye, strong of hand 
and brain, he rules his little realm as completely as the 
Czar of Russia. On Thursday he brought his steamer 
around to tow us on our way down the Severn to the 
end of navigation at the first portage. 
Here we carried our boats and baggage looft. or 
more over rock, and dropped them into the calm waters 
below the falls. This lower Severn region is as wild 
a country as one could wish to see. The river above 
the lake is prosaic enough ; but down below, ah! down 
below things are different. At each succeeding bend 
the river outdoes all preceding efforts to enchant the 
tourist. At one place the river spreads its ebony waters 
out in broad and beautiful bays, whose long reaches of 
circular waters form delightful pictures framed with 
towering pines, hemlocks and balsams. At another 
place this romantic river gathers compactly its scattered 
trees for a mad flight down some gorge; thus in round- 
ing bays, overhanging granite rocks, waterfalls and 
foamy rapids doth this noble river enchant its pathway 
down to the sea. 
At 9 o'clock we reached McDonald's Falls, where we 
found the bass fishing excellent, and when bass fishing 
is good, could any fishing be better? Ingenious, the 
bass of this river, veritable Yankees among the other 
fish in vivacity, in cleverness, in the telegraphic move- 
ments of his body; his peer may nowhere be found. 
We fished in circular pockets down along the shoot, 
and found bass waiting to take the bait almost as soon 
as it touched water. Just at the top of the rapids we 
could see dozens of bass as plainly as in an aquarium; 
I baited with minnow and cast above, letting the current 
bear the bait down to them. Several darted for it; but 
a large one cut it off at the head as neatly as a tailor 
snicks a bit of cloth; but didn't hook himself. Thrice 
was this performance repeated. I then hooked the bait 
in the back, and landed several fine bass and some 
pickerel. 
Here was a splendid opportunity given to observe the 
r^thods these north country bass pursue in biting. 
They don't take the bait with a mad rush, as many 
suppose. If one fish is present he cautiously takes the 
bait and slowly moves off, and sometimes remains 
ruminating until the barbed hook causes pain, and then 
startled he begins his rushes. If numerous fish are pres- 
ent, the bait is greedily snapped up and made off with. 
In the clear water at the falls I have caught many 
fish; most of which I saw take the bait. We fished just 
above where the water makes its bend down the steep 
declivity of the gorge, and the water fairly flies by, and 
the wonder is that fish could stay in such turbulent 
waters. We stood as entranced, watching the rush- 
ing, beating waters, although we knew each succeeding 
moment would bring the same eternal grind of rushing 
waters, still be stayed; reminded of the lines from 
Southey: 
"With splashing and dashing: and clashing-. 
And so never ending, but always descending, 
Sounds and motions forever are blending, 
All at once and all o'er, with a mighty uproar, 
This is the way the waters come down at Lodore." 
Our party caught perhaps a hundred bass on this 
journey, most of which were carefully returned to the 
water. At 6 o'clock we heard the whistle of Capt. 
James O. Wood's yacht that had come down to tow us 
home; sorry to leave the angler's paradise, but glad 
to accept the hospitality of so genial and kindly a gen- 
tleman as Capt. Wood. In daily journeys into the woods 
for wild fruits and berries, we varied the delights of our 
sojourn on the Severn; but the most profitable and 
pleasant tour of my life was a trip through lakes Mus- 
koka and_ Joseph to Port Cockburn, with stop overs 
at ports Carting and Sandfield. The cool, balmy, in- 
vigorating breezes put our whole being in tune to the 
harmony of nature. The steamer Nipissing carries us 
down long, delightful avenues of ebony waters, scal- 
loped on either side with rocky castellated islands and 
bold promontories. 
The many flags of campers, the profusion of ferns and 
flowers call to mind Browning's 
It was roses, roses, all the way, 
With myrtle mixed in my path like mad. 
The church spires flamed, such flags they had. 
But the longest journey has its end, and the time came 
and all too soon when we were called to turn our faces 
from this north country Canaan and return to the daily 
treadmill of toil, and the call caused as much sadness 
as one that came long, long years ago. 
My earliest friend of the angle, my father, had taken 
his treasure of six stout boys down to the nearest water 
to hunt and fish and gather a goodly store of rich, brown 
hazel nuts. All day long we reveled like mad in the de- 
lights of wood and water; and finally, when the low 
descending sun had burned a serene and shining path- 
way over the sea, we heard a gentle, kindly voice call: 
"Come on, boys, come on. It's time to go home." 
James M. Norris. 
Pennsylvania. 
The Little Kanawha. 
For the benefit of a correspondent asking about hunt- 
ing and fishing on Little Kanawha, about forty miles 
from Parkersburg, W. Va., I would say, from informa- 
tion which I have been trying to obtain for some time, 
that squirrels and grouse are the only game of any con- 
siderable amount. The fishing is said to be good, There 
are green bass, lake bass and the striped or rock bass. 
As to the other kinds of fish I have not been informed. 
N. D. E. 
To Stock Greenwood and Hopatcong Lakes.. 
Game Wardens Kerr and Riley, of New Jersey, 
will stock Lake Hopatcong and Greenwood Lake with 
10,000 wall-eyed pike, the same number of white bass 
and 5,000 channel catfish. 
\mww$ to (j^arrespondqnfa. 
No notice taken of anonymous communications. 
A. R., Boston. — The first ol the series of "Confabulations of 
the Cadi" appeared on Aug. 13. The second appeared on Sept. 
3 arid each week since. 
PUBLISHERS' DEPARTMENT. 
Mr. W. J. Cummins, of Bishop Aukland, England, sends us his 
fishing tackle catalogue, which has, in addition to full descrip- 
tions of his extensive stock of anglers' supplies, numerous inter- 
est ins; half-tone illustrations of fishing waters in Great Britain 
and elsewhere. It is not all of fishing to fish; if one would know 
something of the charms of natural scenery which delight our 
angling cousins across the water he may find it here. The cata- 
logue will be sent on application to the above address. 
Publications Received. 
Bob: Son of Battle. By Alfred OllLvant. New York: 
Doubleday & McClure. 
A fox terrier broke loose from its cage in a Chicago 
bird store recently, and for more than three hours 
slaughtered the valuable and beautiful birds. Parrots, 
cockatoos, jays, finches and other screeching birds set 
up such a deafening chorus that a great crowd was 
attracted. Efforts were made to break into the store and 
stop the slaughter, but the door resisted all the attempts 
until the proprietor arrived at 7 o'clock. By this time 
the store was strewn with bodies of birds and plumage of 
every hue. Fifty canaries, a dozen parrots, a Japanese 
nightingale, a bird of paradise, mockingbirds, a dozen 
white and gray Java rice birds, strawberry and zebra 
fi-'-^s and others, numbering between ioo and 200, were 
killed. 
