.TtlNE 24, 1899.1 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
489 
fact, I believe Frank is responsible for the death of more 
trout, big and little, than all the fishermen that ever 
visited the locality. The rig he uses is entirely different 
from anything I have ever seen, and a brief description of 
it may be of interest. Frank tells me he got the idea 
from a rig used by the Siwashes in trolling for salmon, 
using herring for bait, but he has improved on the 
original. Presume that you are using 150ft. of black silk 
braided line. Cut two lengths from it, one say 3oin. long 
and the other about pin. Take the 3oin. length and loop 
it at both ends. To one end secure a .swivel and to the 
other a plain ritigcd hook of good size. Now take the 
gin. length, loop at both ends and to one end fasten a 
hook a size or two smaller than the one already used. 
Make a running noose on the vacant loop and pass it 
over your 3oin, length, securing it so that it can be passed 
up and down at pleasure. Adjust the upper hook so that 
it will hang about the length of a minnow above your 
lower one. Below your swivel two or three split buck- 
shot are necessary in a strong current to act as a sinker, 
and when you have secured your swivel to your line you 
are almost ready for business. 
Take a live minnow 3 or 4in. long, pass the lower hook 
into its mouth and through the body, bringing it out un- 
der the belly as far down as possible. Secure the upper 
hook point upward through the minnow's head, adjust 
the slip noose on your line till you have the minno\v 
stretched out full length, both lines being perfectly taut. 
Cast well out into the current, allow your bait to be 
carried down stream some distance from you, then draw 
in gradually, working your minnow. The life-like action 
of that minnow in the water will surprise you and its 
death-dealing qualities cease to be wondered at. 
Frank and I had planned several times to go out on the 
river together, but some business always intervened. He 
came to town the other day with a photograph, which I 
inclose, of four trout, three of which he had caught dur- 
ing one afternoon — the small one on the left a rainbow of 
5lbs., standing to the credit of Mrs. Robinson. The other 
three weighed lo^, 10 and 5J^lbs., all Dolly Vardens. 
The sight of these and a warm invitation from Frank to 
join him for a day or two, was all that was necessary to 
set my appetite on edge. 
Next morning found us on the steamer, and by 2 
o'clock we were in Brinnon. We started to fish at the 
mouth of the river almost on salt water, where Frank had 
caught the big ones a few days before, and fished carefully 
up stream. Evening found us at Rocky Point, a mile 
up, without a single trout. Here at a sharp bend where 
the river runs against a high rocky bluff is- a famous 
hole, and in it we surely would find them. But even 
Frank's skill failed to meet any response in the shape of a 
strike, and starting for home we discussed the situation, 
both equally at a loss to account for it. The river was in 
splendid fishing condition, owing to the cold weather. 
Making an early start next morning, we fished over ex- 
actly the same ground with the same result, and meeting 
at Rocky Point about 9 o'clock we decided they were 
higher up, and determined to follow them till dark. Very 
shortly after I was rewarded by a strike, and landed the 
first trout, an innocent who weighed only 3lbs. or so. 
This was altogether too small to make any fuss over, 
so I yanked him out without ceremony. 
About I o'clock we reached Roselle's Hole, the furthest 
up point T had previously been, and as this pool can be 
fished only from one stand, Frank sat down and invited 
me to go ahead. 
Casting Avell above, I allowed the current to carry my 
bait down to the end of it, then starting to draw it in, I 
get a telegraphic communication that makes me stand 
up straight. Jabbing it back — whizz — ^away goes the 
line, a big one by the heavy pull, and I am fast to him. 
He stays by the hole and cavorts around it like a Siwash 
on a jamboree, but the automatic keeps a steady strain 
on him, and slowly he is brought to shallow water. Here 
he makes some rushes that take my breath away, but after 
a long struggle I slide him out on the bank. Six pounds 
at least is Frank's verdict. A close guess, for the scales 
at night show 6^1bs. A second one of slbs. is hooked by 
Frank a few minutes later, and safely landed. 
We feel we are doing better, and contented we rest 
here; eat our lunch and smoke the pipe of peace. 
We are sure now the big fellows are higher up, and 
determine to follow them. Soon we come to the first 
canon. Here for a mile the water rushes through narrow 
rock-bound walls, and we are obliged to clamber up hill 
to the road and follow it, the river entirely hidden, but 
the roar it makes constantly in our ears. Again striking 
the valley, we find a wide reach, where, with hip boots, we 
can just manage to wade over. The objective point is a 
long, deep, shady riffle, where we are likely to meet our 
game. Frank soon reports a heavy strike, which he 
misses, and as I am close by he allows me to try for 
him. Letting out more line, the minnow drifts down ; 
then as it is drawn up I see a long brown body shoot along 
the top of the water, and even before I feel the strike I 
sock it to him with the butt, and "there she blows." The 
circus is going again in full blast. But here is an ideal 
place to play a fish. Clear, shallow water, no hidden roots 
or logs to give him vantage. I jet him have his own way 
inall things, till finally, completely played out, he is brought 
to shore, a sight for the sons of men to_ rejoice and be 
glad over. Seven and three-quarters this one, and the 
largest for the day. 
Keeping on till evening, fishing only the likeliest pools, 
7 o'clock found us six miles from home with fifteen trout. 
Of these Frank had killed nine, after invariably allowing 
rae to fish the best places ahead of him. Dividing the 
catch and strapping them over our shoulders, we started 
for home, tired, hungry and happy. 
We had planned a trip to the Duckabush for the next 
day. This river is only three miles from the Dose- 
wallups, just over the divide, is somewhat smaller, and 
the fishing in it is just as good if not better. But we had 
already all the fish we cared for, save my big fellow, and 
decided we should go still higher up our own river and 
spend the day in search of him alone. 
Before retiring we cleaned our catch, and the conteirts 
of their stomachs was quite interesting. In one we found 
a frog little the worse for his experience, save that one 
leg was chewed up considerably, smaller fish of various 
kinds and sizes, a very little salmon spawn and any 
quantity of periwinkles, a small shell bug found all over 
the river bottom. Laid out side by side, they made a 
most imposing show, and cleaned, the catch weighed ex- 
actly 52lbs. Next morning before we started Frank 
took a shot at them with his camera. 
And now comes the story of the big fellows that got 
awaj'. They always do. Taking Frank's mules, we rode 
up eight miles, then tied them up, took to the trail for 
two miles more, and struck in to the river. We fished 
down stream for almost an hour without result. Then 
we came to a deep pool overhung by maples, and in all 
respects an ideal spot for the object of our search. My 
companion declared at once that here, if anywhere, the 
whale would be found. Casting in, slowly the current 
carried my line to the end of the swirl, then as I lifted 
.the tip to work it back, it came. A strike so fierce and 
sudden that it sent a thrill through me, and only Frank's 
loud halloo brought me to my senses. "There! Now 
you've got him at last. That's a big one sure. Hang on 
to him. Hang on to him." "I'll hang on if I have to fol- 
low him to salt water." 
But this big fellow wasn't built that way. He sulked 
and I couldn't budge him. Then he'd take a saunter 
round the pool, and I'd try to lift a little to get a glimpse 
of him, but I might as well have tried to lift a tree. Now 
thump, thump, thump would come along my line, and it 
felt as if he were smashing his head on the rocks away 
down at the bottom of the pool. I kept all the strain on 
him that I dared, and still every once in a while I could 
feel that thump, thump, thump, just like the screw of a 
big steamer. Then suddenly I felt my line slackened, and 
my reel being open it came toward me in a helpless can't- 
help-it kind of style that made me sick. He had worked 
himself loose. I laid my rod down and felt like . 
Well, no language that I had any knowledge of could do 
the situation justice. Frank at sight of my face was in 
convulsions of laughter, but it was some considerable time 
before I could join him. 
It took a large portion of cold chicken, many slices of 
home-made bread and butter and copious draughts of 
river water to restore my balance. My companion mean- 
while had amused himself landing one or two little fel- 
lows of 5 or 61bs., but I could not pretend to take any in- 
terest in the proceedings. Starting out again, we kept on 
down stream, Frank occasionally landing a trout. 
We reached a small caiion where the water entering 
diagonally made a tremendous swirl at one side. It was 
very deep and looked promising. Clambering down, I 
cast in, and in a minute or two was fast to a fair-sized 
fish, lie put up quite a fight, but presently gave signs of 
quitting, and when I got him to the fop of the water — 
there — ^riglit behind, following his every movement, was 
the largest trout I had ever seen dead or alive. I lost 
all interest in the one I was playing. "Holy Jonah," T 
yelled to Frank. "Come and see the whale." He cau- 
tioned me as he came down to keep quiet. I slid my 
fish in to him. which he unhooked, telling me I would 
get the big fellow with the next ca.st. Putting on a fresh 
minnow, I dropped my line in, but for a fe\y minutes 
there was no response. I think the water at this particu- 
lar poiiit must have been 20ft. deep, and the river not 
over 15ft. wide, making the swirl so short I had to fish 
almost straight down. Suddenly in moving my line I felt 
it stop gently. I wasn't sure it seemed like the nibble of a 
small fish. Then a little pull, and hesitating no 
more, I socked it to him good and hard. Quick as 
thought he came back at me with a jerk so strong and 
sudden that my rod snapped in two like a pipe stem, just 
above the butt, and I was left standing with about a foot 
of the rod in my hand, to which my reel was attached, and 
the rest of my rod was down in the river. Recovering it 
quickly, I found he had added insult to injury and taken 
my tackle along with him. Evidently it wasn't my day. 
Frank had offered me the use of a cane pole on starting 
out, and advised me to take it. But I had brought my 
salmon rod with me, and felt sure of being able to handle 
anything in the river. I had used it for years trolling for 
salmon in the bay, and killed fish up to 261bs. But the 
pitcher that goes too often to the well will get broken. 
My rod was probably weakened by the unusual str^iin of 
the day before. 
After this we decided to quit. On the way back I felt 
sore and sorry over my ill luck. But a sight of the string 
already caught restored my spirits. 
An invitation from Frank to stop another day and try 
the Duckabush had to be declined. Bidding a hearty 
good-b}^ to my kind host and hostess, I was hardly aboard 
the steamer when I was busy laying plans for a return trip 
and an acti^'^e resumption of hostilities against that whale. 
John Eraser. 
ANGLING NOTES. 
Eyed Fish Hooks and Mental Telegraphy. 
It is more than likely that I shall become a believer in 
"m.ental telegraphy," as I think Mark Twain called it in 
an article in the Century some years ago, when he related 
a series of coincidences in his own experience. 
About two weeks ago I was looking for a place on Sixth 
avenue, New York, between Forty-second and Forty- 
third streets. I knew the name, but not the number of the 
establishment, being told only that it was between the 
two streets I have mentioned. I walked to Forty-third 
street, without finding it, and stood on the corner wonder- 
ing if I remembered correctly the directions I had re- 
ceived. Diagonally across the street on the next corner 
was a building, and mechanically my eyes read the sign 
over the door, "William Simpson." The name was 
familiar to me in some way, and yet I could not connect 
it with anything, until in a flash it came to me that it was 
the name of a man I had written to within a few weeks in 
reply to a query concerning a work of the Fisheries, Game 
and Forest Commission, and that I had sent the letter to 
Sixth Avenue. 
Walking across the street I entered the store and in- 
troduced myself to Mr. Simpson, and found that at the 
moment I entered luy letter was on his desk, and he was 
replying to it He was a contributor to Forest and 
Stream, and in talking of fish and fishing, mentioned 
my "first letter." I assured him that i had never writ- 
ten to him but once, and that very recently. He said that 
eighteen years ago, because of something I had written in 
Forest and Stream, he had asked me about fishing in the 
Adirondacks, and where to go, and that I had replied, and 
he had followed my directions to the Seven Chain of 
Lakes, and had spent six seasons there. But about eyed 
hooks. A short time before I found Mr. Simpson in the 
act of writing to me, I was walking down Park place 
on my way to see about having some aquaria repaired for 
a fish exhibit, and noticed Mill's sign, and went in for a 
few moments, as I had not been in the place since he 
moved from Warren street. In talking about tackle, eyed 
hooks came up for discussion, and I expressed my opin- 
ion of them to Tom Mills, and for several days after, on 
occasions, eyed hooks came into my mind. A book came 
home from the binder's, where I had sent it to have new 
binding, and as I looked through it I was impressed with 
the fact that the colored plates of flies, etc., showed them 
to be tied on eyed hooks. The inscription on the title page 
shows that the book was given to me in 1883 by the late 
Dr. Elisha Sterling, the friend, companion and classmate 
of Dr. Garlick, the father of American fishculture, and 
it was written by Hewitt Wheatley, Sr., angler and pub- 
lisher, in London, in 1849. The title is "The Rod and 
Line; or Practical Hints and Dainty Devices for the 
Sure Taking of Trout, Grayling," etc., and it is illustrated 
with steel plates, colored by hand, of flies, beetles, grubs, 
moths, spinners, etc. The book is filled with marginal 
notes and comments in the handwriting of Dr. Sterling, 
and extracts and paragraphs and whole pages are under- 
lined by the same hand. I have looked at the book dozens 
of times since I have had it, and never before noticed that 
the flies were on eyed hooks. A comparatively recent in- 
vention, it was supposed, and not to be confounded with 
the common ringed hook. Upon looking at the text to 
find if the author really meant the hooks to be eyed, I 
found on page 74 the following, undersigned by Dr. 
Sterling: 
'T generally use these (artificial beetle) on hooks having 
a fine eye at the extremity of the flank. In fact, I very com- 
monly iTiake all flies, large and small, on similar hooks; 
a practice which will doubtless be scouted by many anglers. 
Nor shall I attempt to persuade any one to adopt it, al- 
though it possesses the advantage of enabling me to Use 
either fine or thick gut with the same fly. It is far more 
desirable, for when the fly is tied on gut, the gut is very 
soon so worn as to be unsafe, and the fly consequently 
valueless. Besides, in an ordinary sized round snuff-box, I 
carry to the river three hundred flies, a compression of 
the material with which I am well pleased, more especially 
as each is kept separate and available without trouble." 
This I thought to be as much of a find as when I dis- 
covered Japanese flies to be tied on needle-pointed barb- 
less fishhooks, a fishhook patented in this country within 
the past twenty years, and in use in Japan for two or 
three hundred years, and so I made a memorandurn on my 
"Angling Notes" sticker: "See Wheatley'a book 'for flies 
on eyed hooks and quote from page 74." I resolved that 
if ever I got the time to resume my angling notes in 
Forest and Stream that I would attempt to show that 
the eyed hook, whether "turned down" by Pennell or 
"turned up" by Hall, was not a recent_ invention, as I 
supposed, for Wheatley' s book makes it certainly fifty 
years old. Here is where the mental telegraphy or coin- 
cidence comes in. This morning the mail brought the 
Fishing Gazette from London, and as I opened the paper 
on the first page was an article by my friend, Marston, de- 
voting two columns to Wheatley's book, and I was so 
amazed that I went to the angling notes sticker and 
looked at the memorandum and foimd it as I have 
quoted, so it was no day dream. I would like to know 
from Marston just when he wrote the article, for I think 
I can find from the bookbinder when he sent me the book 
after binding it, although it is possible I may not have 
seen it when first it was returned. If I made the 
memorandum at about the time that Marston was writing 
the article, I would be willing to take a few shares, com- 
mon stock in Mental Telegraphy, Limited. Mr. Marston 
discovered from Wheatlej^'s book much more than I did, 
for he finds that the "red tag" and "Alexandra" flies were 
either invented by Wheatley or in use before his time. 
Another discovery I will give in Mr. Marston's own 
words : 
"Wheatley ought to have lived and fished nearly half a 
century later than he did, for he would have delighted in 
the 'dainty devices,' to use his own words, of the dry-fly 
fisher. That he was in advance of his time seems clear 
from the fact that he had eyed hooks made to dress his 
flies on ; and most beautiful eyed hooks too — small, slightly 
turned-up eyes on the most perfect of Limericks, also 
special long-shank eyed hooks for May flies, beetles, etc. 
Thanks to the kindness of one of my correspondents, Mr. 
H. Longfield, of Broad View, Mallow, Ireland, I have in 
my possession a fly and a caterpillar dressed by Wheatley 
on his eyed hooks, and given by him to Mr. Longfield in 
1856. I referred to this in the Fishing Gazette in Septem- 
ber, 1884, after there had been mttch correspondence on the 
question of eyed hooks, which, for dry-fly fishing pur- 
poses, were reinvented by Mr. H. S. Hall and Mr. George 
Bankart. 
"The caterpillar has a piece of gut still attached to the 
eye, and the knot used is the same as that which I, nearly 
thirty years later, christened the 'Turle Knot,' after Major 
Turle, who first showed it to me when I was fishing with 
him on the Test." 
This is not the first time, by the way, that I have been 
in communication with the Gazette by mental telegraphy. • 
Several years ago I was experimenting with caging 
live May flies to see if they would bear transportation 
for the purpose of transplanting, and before I could print 
the result of my experiment, the Gazette published some- 
thing upon the same subject from the pen of an Engli:?h 
angler, who had been experimenting in the same field. 
A. N. Cheney 
Calffofnia Jewfishingf* 
AvALON, Santa Catalina Island, Cal., June il. — The first 
Jewfish for the season of '99 was caught by Col. R. A. 
Eddy, of San Francisco, and weighed 24olbs. 
Dr, Jno. Gallway, of Frisco, has just come in with a 
catch of fourteen yellowtail, one barracuda, one halibut, 
the result of four hours' fishing off Avalon. W, 
The Forest and Sxeeam ia put to press each week on Tuesday^ 
Coirespondence intended for publication should reach us at tfa@ 
]«te8t QT Monday and as much earlier as practicable. 
