2 
FOREST AND, STREAM, 
IJfULY S, 1903. 
Old Plainfield Days. 
"On revient totijoiirs a le premier amour." This 
proverb is as true in English as in French, llow we 
snperannnated old people do inevitably hark back in our 
waning 3'ears to the old haunts and the old homes ! And 
every old memory stands out as a beacon to light the 
way. 
It is this homing instinct which leads me back every 
year, nowadays, to this delectable corner of northwestern 
Massachusetts, where I was baptized in the living waters 
of the Plainfield Mill Stream. Its alder-shaded pools and 
sparkling riffles were then alive with speckled trout, and 
we boys basketed cvcrj'thing that came to the hook ; but 
at present there are few fish in it legally worth the taking. 
F;ngerlings under the six-inch limit are tired of being 
caught, and put back over and over again, while larger fish 
keep shy. Consequently my rods are hung up under the 
baby act, like Jewish harps by the waters of Babylon. 
But, satis super que! I shall go to Sunapee Lake ere long, 
where I am told there are eight varieties of entertaining 
fish, including the much-discussed saibling, or Sunapee 
Lake trout, so signally exploited by Dr. John D. Quacken- 
bos, of New York, some twelve years ago. No person has 
done so much as the good doctor to bring this delightful 
summer resort to public notice, and to make it attractive. 
As to Plaintield now. I wish that your readers could 
realize the sylvan charms of these terminal hills of the 
Green Mountain range. The venerated Bryant knew 
them of old, and weaved his dulcet rhythms over all the 
pleasant places, like summer cobwebs in the morning 
lights. From every simimit there is a sweeping view, and 
in every vallej'^ there is a sparkling stream, a grateful 
shade and a winding drive. Ice-cold springs gush from 
every hillside and are caught in great log troughs at the 
roadside for the comfort of panting beasts which climb the 
steeps. The very hilltops are saturated with the limpid 
waters which percolate through the stubble of the hay 
fields and find their way to noisy brooks that clatter 
through the woods and stony ravines in their haste to 
join the main streams in the valley below. Rocks and 
spreading ferns are distributed with charming effect all 
over the pasture lands, while wayside and woodland 
flowers — Solomon's seal, Jack-in-the-pulpit, Indian pipe, 
pitcher plants and moccasin flower,s — are in number and 
variety sufficient to cram an herbarium. The whole coun- 
try is like a park. Since it was first cleared it has been 
in great part reforested, but there is no primitive forest. 
Every acre of land has been cut over and cropped over 
during the past centtiry, and whatever woods there are 
have sprung into a luxuriant and sturdy growth from old 
clearings long since tilled and run tO' waste, There is 
everywhere a continuous interchange of rounded emi- 
nences and abrupt slopes^ crossed in all directions by 
stone walls and inter.sperscd with big boulders, granite 
otUcroppings, apple orchards, cornfields and potato 
patches, with here and there a farmhouse, too often desti- 
tute of paint, and frequently abandoned and left to decay. 
Some elevations exceed 2,100 feet in height, and look into 
five States, Prof. Charles Lyman Shaw, who died last 
month at Astoria, L. I., Avas a famous mountain climber, 
and knew the altitudes of all the hills and knobs and 
higher elevations in this region. It was through him that 
Bryant Hill. Mt. Warner, and several other eminences 
received their present names. At the date of his death he 
was engaged on a descriptive and topographical chart 
of thera. ■ ' , I* ' «li 
In early geological times a big squeeze took place right 
here, while the earth's crust was cooling off, which up- 
ended large areas of laminated schists and gave to some 
parts of these slopes quite a graveyard aspect. Ledges 
of sedimentary rocks crop out from the hillsides in all 
directions: great dykes cross the lines of upheaval, and 
huge boulders are grounded on summits furrowed with 
glacial striae, which will be legible to the end of time. 
When I was a boy I used to climb these crags to salt 
sheep whose matutinal bleating resounded from near to 
far. On these altitudes there is always a vitalizing atmos- 
phere, so that the summer temperature is never too warm 
at night. One point in particular is called the "Bellows' 
Nose," where it is said one can always get a breeze, even 
if he has to blow it himself. 
But in winter ! Well, I do not see why even the New 
England winters .should not be charming in their boreal 
aspects, with every one snugly housed and little to do, the 
winter supply of wood cut, and no one compelled to go 
out into the inclemencj' of the weather except the doctor 
and the stage driver. But my ! to think of these heroes 
of the hills turning out every morning before dawn and 
returning with the mails three hours after dark, dodging 
snowdrifts and following the uncertain trail over stone 
walls and across wind-swept pasture lots under blizzard 
conditions, for such are the hyemal diversions of rural 
delivery ! The bare thought provokes a shiver, suggests 
an ugh-ugh-ulster ! 
And just to think of a location so charming in summer 
and winter having no hotel, noi typical boarding house, 
no hospice for the fagged and bilious men of business 
Avho eagerly scan the advertising columns for summer 
elysiums which they fail to find; for retreats um- 
brageous and cool, where charges are not unconscionable, 
where pullets never mature, and the matutinal toast is 
enriched with genuine cream instead of watered milk. 
There is not even a stage coach here — only moitntam 
wagons — to ply to nearest railroad points^ which are re- 
spectively eleven, fifteen and seventeen miles away. But 
the roads are fair, and portions of them are _ "State 
roads," costing $10,000 per mile, which vie with the 
"vias" of old Rome. I have long inclined to the opinion 
that a well-kept hostelry here in Plainfield could be 
crammed for ten weeks in the summer season at prices 
50 per cent, higher than are asked now, and give satis- 
faction. 
It is now fifty-six years since I cast my maiden fly into 
these primitive trout stfeams. I was a stripling then, 
city born and bred, and fairly reveled in my rural en- 
vironment, like tt colt turfied out to grass. My whole 
time was passed out of doors, and I grew hardy and 
tough. I scorned a bed in summer months, and slept in a 
bunk in a rough board shanty hidden in a grove which 
crowned a knoll, under whose base wound a small rivulet. 
In this rustic kindergarten I learned the rudiments of 
woodcraft. In time I came to know every woodchuck 
hole in the township, and almost every red sq-uirrel and 
chipmunk by sight ; every log where an old cock partridge 
drummed ; every crow's nest, and every hollow tree where 
a 'coon hid away. I heard Bob White whistle to his mate 
in May, and listened to the roundelay of the bobolink in 
June. I had no passion for collecting birds' eggs, but I 
Is-ncAv where many a robin foregathered, and where to 
find the incubating: ledge of the night hawk. My elder 
cousin and I had pets of all kinds — tame squirrels, foxes 
and crows. All the live stock on the farm were our 
friends. The old bay mare which once tossed my uncle 
across the stable with its teeth, would let us crawl between 
her legs. We rode the cows home from pasture, drove a 
cosset four-in-hand, trained two Maltese cats to wagon, 
and even got the little heifer so tame that I could rest 
my shotgun between her budding horns and fire without 
alarming her. We learned where to gather all the berries, 
roots, barks, "yarbs" and huninous fungi which grew in 
the woods, and . so unconsciously became lovers of botany 
and natural objects. As to fishing, we fished whenever we 
got a day off. There were sequestered ponds cinctured by 
spruce belts, at whose outlets the hum and buzz of busy 
saw mills were heard, and whose waters were filled with 
pickerel and perch. In the solitude of the woods the 
bark-peelers stripped the hemlocks for the tannery. Of 
birch bark we fabricated no end of useful and dainty 
things. But most glorious of all, as I have said, were the 
mountain streams, foaming, purling, rippling and leaping, 
with a life and a dash and a joyousness Avhich made our 
lives merry and filled our hearts to overfloAving with 
pleasure. 
Fly-fishing was in its infancy then. It Avas an art 
scarcely knoAvn in Ncav England, and little practiced in 
Canada. We boys had no conception of the curious de- 
Adces of feather and tinsel which we afterward learned to 
• use, as I will tell you presently. To the angling fraternity _ 
at large the artifices of Thorndike, Stickler and Bethune 
were as mysterious as the occult sciences themselves. We 
used simply a Avattle and a Avorm, and whipped the trout 
out of the water vi et armis. We did not understand 
'"playing" a trout. Our sport was derived from our en- 
vironment, from the size of count, and the sense of free- 
dom in a day off. And yet Ave were the best anglers in 
the village. We caught bigger fish and more of them. 
We knew every good place in the Mill Stream. There 
was the old log just at the edge of the woods, the big 
hole where Ave used to bathe, the bridge that crossed the 
road, the rocky ledge at the pond where there Avas a .small 
type foundry, the crossing log in the ten-acre pasture, the 
eddy at the loAver falls, and so on from point to point 
through devious Avindings and turnings, aAvaj^ dOAvn 
stream three miles or more to the grist mill, the same 
Avhich the old INIountain Miller used to tend in .years 
gone by. 
Ah ! those Avere halcyon days. No bikes nor automo- 
biles disturbed the quiet seclusion of this mountain nook. 
The scream of the locomotive was not heard within tAven- 
tj"-two miles of it. TavIcc a Aveek an old-fashioned stage 
coach dragged heavily up the hill into the hamlet and 
halted in front of the house which Avas at once post office, 
tavern and miscellaneous store, and is noAV. So little has 
Plainfield changed ! One day it brought a genteel pas- 
senger. A Avell-knit, Aviry frame he had, Avith features 
denoting quick wit and kindred qualities. He carried a 
hand bag and a fa.scine of rods in a leathern case. Some- 
thotight it Avas a telescope, but the village quidnuncs said 
he Avas a surA-eyor. I have forgotten his name, except 
that it was of tAVO .syllables and began with D. He 
allowed he was from Troy, and had "come to go a-fish- 
ing." 
F'rom that stranger 1 toolc my first lesson in fly-lishing. 
As he stood npon the tavern steps he gazed across the 
barren waste of ground to the meeting house opxiosite — 
the same meeting house Avhere my reyerend grandfather 
ministered with grace for forty years — a meeting house 
quaint and ancient, rooster-croAvned, Avith its horse block 
and rows of horse sheds at hand, and its square pews in- 
side, its lofty galleries and crimson-cu.shioned pulpit, its 
deacon scats and its .sounding board, long since things of 
the past. He gazed and seemed to meditate, then shook 
his head and remarked: "To-rhorrow will be Sunday. I 
shall have to .Avait a day. Sonny, can you tell me if there 
is any good trout fishing about here?" Trout fishing! 
To me there Avas magic in the sound. Yes ; and I Avould 
take him to the brook. "All right; it's a go!" Of course 
my Sundaj' school lesson lapsed next day. Appetite de- 
serted me. I even refused the "hunk" of gingerbread 
Avhich my aunt supplied at the nooning from the family 
lunch basket. But you should have seen that stranger fish 
on Monday ! It Avas not that he took so very many fish, 
but the cute way in Avhich he did it. In the first place, his 
rod was so constructed ip different pieces that he could 
separate or joint thern together, and it was nicely var- 
nished, too. and stiffer and more supple than our long 
hickory poles. I did not notice Avhat kind of bait he 
used — ^I didn't see him tise any — but he just gave a quiet 
twist of his arm and tossed his line every time, far, far 
be}'ond the most ambitious attempts of ours; and nearly 
every time a fish took his hook; then he let them dart 
about'for a while, as if he didn't care to save them. At 
first I thought he was just fooling, but I soon discovered 
that he had some system about him, and I watched care- 
fully, f al\Aays kneAV that there Avere big fish out there 
in that deep Avater under the alders, for Ave had seen 
them break there often. Yet Ave never tried to fish there, 
because Ave could not reach them from this side, and upon 
the other the bushes were so thick it was useless to at- 
tempt it. And it was too deep to wade. All day long while 
fishing with him, I employed my nicest art. I sought out 
my best holes, and crept up carefully, i took many fish, 
but only a few big ones. Any dozen of his Avould have 
outweighed my whole string. It aggravated me awfully. 
He said I Avas an excellent bait-fisher, but thought I 
Avould learn to prefer flies. Before he went away he gave 
rne some instructions in casting and a fcAv samples. .Since 
then T have alwciys Used flic^ in fly-time Avherever prac- 
ticable, (TpARLE.'i Haixqc^ 
.Pi.AiNpnttp, Mass,, June 36, 
The Demon Bear of Tarantula 
Rldge^ 
Recent press rdispatches, with brief but stirring detail, ! 
set forth that our beloved President of the United States 
has been invited by some brave bear hunters, who are 
coincidentally brave and chivalrous Mississippians, to fill 
the office of guest in a bear hunt to take place in some 
place in the South as yet unnamed. j 
This national event in its significance recalls a bear- 
hunting episode of my own life which took place some , 
years ago. I carried enormous pressures of sportsmen's 
egotism. As a side phase of it, I wanted some fame as a 
brave man, and to this end, concerning it, I wanted to 
establish some daring deed as of record. There then 
Avas no cheaper, nor quicker, nor safer way to achieve it 
than to invade the wilderness, kill something in some 
Avay or other, and forthwith portray the deed in proper 
flame of color, pitch of key and volume of detail, all ' 
properly spread before the public eye. 
I have intimated that I was egotistical. I know that 
I was so. but 1 also know that it Avas all in a wholesome 
way. This wholesomeness certain narrow minds could , 
not perceive or concede. A thirst for fame is not a 
novelty in the character of every well-organized man 
and woman. In every man's life there is a stage in which 
he aspires to distinguish himself favorably and pre- 
eminently in the eyes of his felloAvs. If the opportunity 
does not present itself naturally, he, if properly ingenious, 
presents it to himself. One sensational deed accomplished 
in the limelight and the trick is eternally done. A few: 
moments of sixch well-chosen forwardness are sufficient 
to color one's Avhole life with heroic diffusiveness. It 
docs not matter much in what the heroic deed consists, so 
that it is either of bloody novelty or bloodless superlative.; 
In most instances, the public must necessarily take the; 
hero's Avord as proof of his heroic deeds, and thus hia 
private fancies may become the public's facts. 
In civilized society, the law is an obstacle to heroic op- 
portunities Avhen the same are premeditated, and there- 
fore it checks the proper advancement of that commend-' 
able infant industry called heroism. 
The field of heroism perforce is narrow. The chance 
to save a beautiful, wealthy, married or unmarried woman 
from the thundering hoofs of a foaming runaAvay horse 
comes not to one man in a million. Only to the extremely 
fortunate few is vouchsafed the glorious good fortune to 
kill a riotous baby-biting mad dog; an act above heroism,' 
for it more properly belongs in the domains of the saints. 
The demand for heroic veneering is thus far greater 
than the supply. Peaceful society is a barren field from 
Avhich to extract the raw material for the making of 
heroes. Hie thee, then, to the wilderness! There thei 
man-eaters roam at large. In silence and secrecy thei 
heroic chrysalis may be wrought, thence transferred to 
the public gaze for. the emergence of its beautiful hero- 
butterfl3^ 
There being ever a close season on man himself within 
the precincts of civilization, he is not available as raw ma-' 
terial for bloody deeds ; that is to say, he is not safely avail- 1 
able, as be is dangerous in himself and still more danger-i 
ous from the mantle of safety within which the law en- 
folds him. Therefore, most of us, bent on securing data, 
for bloody literary deeds, have to hunt the Avild animals 
of the wilderness. After Ave have succeeded in killing 
one of them—bear, AvUdcat or rabbit — note that it is in 
keeping Avith the vainglorious consonance of the theme 
to depict the dreadful beast's gigantic size, irresistible 
power, boundless ferocity, lumpy skull, dagger teeth and' 
scimiter cUiavs; for by so much as these terrible attributes 
are magnified, by so much are the bravery and the glory 
of the vanquisher exalted. 
My ambition Avas to conquer a bear. , At first this am-: 
bitiim Avas merely an idea Avhich in time developed into 
an imaginary exploit, but Avhich I impressed upon 
my friends as a Avell-establishcd fact. I Avanted the bear".'> 
skin ; not a mere bear skin, for a skin of the commercial; 
world, knoAvn to be such, Avas not up to my standards or 
Illy requirements, I Avantcd this skin to be a personal] 
matter exclusiA- ely ; that is to say, I, myself, Avanted to be 
the bear's slayer first, and next to be the one Avho de- 
nuded him of his covering. At least, if I did not actu-' 
ally do all tips, circumstances required that as a matter 
pertinent to the record, I should be somcAvhere adjacent; 
to my proxy at the time of the battle, thereby establishing' 
the conventional associations so dear to the brave ones' 
who do and dare, so useful in proving the validity of 
the herioc act, and so necessary in successfully calling 
attention to one's self Avhen perched on the tip of the, 
heroic pinnacle. On that tip, innumerable heroes, mighty 
hunters before the public, have perched throughout a life- 
time merely by a tactful observance of the dramatic 
unities. ' 
As I said before, I wanted a bear skin. The more I 
talked and thought of it, the more firmly I believed that 
■A bear skin, draAvn from Ufe by me, was an essential to" 
my home and reputation. Home Avas less a home with- 
out one. Reputation minus a bear skin of my OAvn 
flaying Avas a reputation, but it was one flawA' and moth- 
eaten. Yet talking and thinking of it Avere not without 
many profound constitutional disturbances to me. I con- 
fess to varieties of spinal creepiness and cold Avaves at 
limes Avhen imagining a face-to-face encounter with the 
ferocious possessor of the skin which I coveted, the bear 
whose skull had the resistance of steel plate, whose teethi 
and claAvs Avere like chisels; whose skin— my skin— had a 
thousand lives in storage, each of Avhich required an in- 
dividual bullet to take it, and even when pierced by a 
thousand bullets, the bear would remain vigorously aliA'e; 
for days after he should have been dead. A bear pierced 
lengthwise and crosswise with one thousand bullets, rag- 
ing, roaring, bounding, fighting, glaring, gnashing, foam- 
ing, charging, blood-spurting, immortal, is a garnishment 
to a pen picture which is beyond price. 
From a mere. A'erbal want in the first place, circum- 
stances at length made it a real want. I had achieved a 
reputation which I was forced to live up to. I had com- 
mitted myself to a bear skin beyond power of recall. 
From it I derived much equivocal prestige, for, as a 
result of my friends' innumerable confabs and criticisms, 
yvhich being sacred exchanges of confidences between them, 
