44 
t^OREST AND STREAM. 
the water, we knew that the landing we were hunting was 
just beyond. We found a charming camp ground, about 
one hundred feet back from the lake, and oil quite ail 
elevation. Our tents were pitched on a betich and back 
of us the ground rose gradually and was well wooded, 
while the gentle slope in front had been cleared of all 
but a few of the largest trees. Ferns grew all around 
our tent, while the fireplace, table and benches were in 
the center of a clean, cool grass plot. For dinner we 
had stewed onions, cucumbers, bacon, fish, bread, butter 
and tea. 
One side of the fish was skinned and the firm white 
meat carefully trimmed off the ribs and put into a skillet 
of hot bacon fat ; then the other side was treated the same 
way, the white meat never totiching water. Fish dressed 
in this way retains all its delicate flavor. The wind was 
quite high in the afternoon and evening, so we baked bread 
and rested. In two quarts of water we cooked a handful 
of rice and beans with two potatoes and two onions sliced. 
When these were well done we added eight of our soup 
tablets, making an excellent soup for supper. 
In the evening we went out to troll, and in less than half 
an hour we hooked and landed a seven and a half pound 
wall-eye. This fish was dressed, put in a bucket and hung 
as high up on a pole as we could reach. For breakfast we 
fried part of the fish and broiled the rest of it in a wire 
broiler over hot coals. The bread that had been baked in 
the skillet the day before, was split in two and the inside 
toasted brown and buttered. This breakfast would have 
been good at home, but out in the pine forest seated 
around a rough board table covered with paper napkins, 
the blue sky overhead and one of the most beautiful lakes 
in Canada spread out at our feet, with the sunlight dancing 
•upon it, is it any wonder that five people ate a seven and 
a half pound fish and great pieces of hot buttered toast? 
Loading our canoes we continued on- our way to the west. 
It was a glorious morning, and we left this picturesque 
lake with many a longing look. . A. W. C. 
The Magnetawan as a Canoe Water. 
Toronto, July s—EdUor Forest and Stream: I noticed 
the inquiry of Mr. F. L. Brown in a recent^ number of the 
Forest and Stream as to the nature of the River Mag- 
netawan, between Ahmic Harbor and Bing Inlet, and as 
to whether a trip down it would be feasible by canoe or 
skiff ; and as we have an officer at that point, I wrote to 
him for such information as I thovight would be of use to 
Mr Brown. I have this moment received his reply, in 
which he says that "the trip to Bing Inlet can be inade 
by skiff or canoe, but I think a canoe preferable as there 
are a number of portages. There are few settlers along 
the route. Supplies can be procured here (Bvtrk s i<ails). 
He ought to have a guide." „ ^ 
^ S. T. Bastedo, 
Deputy Commissioner of Fisheries. 
The Controversy* I 
Good men will differ, and it is well. 
"If all men thought as I do," said a good old brother, 
"thev would all want my wife." a ..^a\a 
"And if they all thought as I do,"^^ replied his candid 
neighbor, "no one would have her." 
No harm is done by such men as Didymus, Carney, 
et al, candidly stating their preferences m the matter 
of sport, for that they are good men and sportsmen 
we all know. That big game hunting does not appeal 
to our Nestor is his misfortune, as it loses him some 
grand sport in reality, and, in addition thereto, de- 
lightful enjoyment of the sport of others, as so often 
thriUingly and interestingly set forth in our sporting 
journal "par excellence." , 
Though some of us are, not all of «s can be m the 
matter of sport, as our Irish friend was about his fav- 
orite beverage-"Good wliisky 1 Faith! ut's all good, 
only some of ut is bhetter thin other." , 
It is the writer's blessed privilege to enjoy all spprt 
from fishing a doodle bug hole with a straw, to big- 
game hunting-barring trapshooting at live pigeons— but 
he has strong preferences. -r , ■ ^r, 
The man who really does it, even if he is only an 
amateur in the matter of recounting it, whether it is 
big or little game he hunts, will interest his brother 
sp?rtsmen in his adventures. . That Didymus pa^s the 
writer a compliment— which is believed to be sincere 
and is highly appreciated— is not due to any literary 
merit in the articles that have pleased. him, for though 
often writing, I am not a literary man m the true sense, 
but is due solely to the fact that ^vhen tellmg of a day 
afield it is the story of a real event, loved but not lust 
How much sport of any kind has there been m Spears 
"Walk Down South," and yet when has anything been 
done by the boys in the woods or on the vvater that has 
afforded such universal pleasure as has his most ex- 
cellent stories. The reason is that we have the action 
in every line and truth in every incident. 
It is the story that drags in the telhng or savors of 
the article manufactured out of the whole cloth, that 
we read at and conclude to leave for another day, be 
;t a tale of the .30-30, or the scatter gun; but if the 
Jition is good it Jill go. let the game be big or small 
If you never shot a rifle in your hfe nor hunted big 
game of any description, you can enjoy a hunt wi h the 
man who can really get you out, even after elephants 
If you doubt this statement turn back a itw mgnths and 
read any of the articles on big-game hunting contribu- 
ted by Mr. Carney to Forest and Stream and prove 
'^O^f Nestor enjoyed them, and others of the same kind 
that we have had from time to time, and is only ex- 
pressing his disapproval of some of the big-game pipe 
dreams that occasionally get away from the office cat 
and Tto the columns of this high-class pubhcation. He 
Inves to stir the boys up and never means quite all he 
savs except when arraigning vandals for committing 
sinful was?e of the good things of the field, forest or 
water in which noble work may be long continued. 
This-by the way-is all rather personal, but we old 
friends can be as personal as we please, ^en^re g>us^^^^_ 
Smith and Jones. 
A Contratt. 
Smith was a man whose motto was . Time. is money. 
Jones was a man whose motto was : We'll he a long 
time' dead. 
Smith, in order to live up to his motto, set to work sys- 
tematically to save time. He began by curtailing his hours 
of slumber. He got up long before breakfast was ready 
and fussed and fumed because he had to wait. When at 
length the meal was served, he sat down and bolted it, then 
seized his hat and rushed for the elevated station. If, 
after turning the corner, he saw a train approaching, he 
made an extra spurt in order to catch it. The stairs he 
took three at a time. But usually he got left. Then 
panting and exasperated, he would pace up and down the 
platform swearing at his luck and more especially at the 
management of the road which did not put on more 
trains. 
On reaching his office, if every clerk was not in his 
place and everything O. K., he proceeded to work himself 
into a state of mind, from which he did not recover for 
half an hour at least. It was suggested by a friend who 
encountered him on one of these occasions that he smoke 
a cigar and soothe himself. 
"What, sir! Smoke?" exclaimed Smith. "I never 
smoked a cigar in my life. An idle, wasteful habit, sir." 
From 8 o'clock till noon it was one continuous "hustle." 
He dictated his letters at a gallop — chopping all his Eng- 
lish — threw a word t® this visitor or to that — darted to the 
telephone with a "Who's this?" before his mouth was to 
the receiver — scolded vehemently if there was the least 
delay — rushed back to his desk, yelling orders to the 
clerks, then on a sudden thought dashed into the street 
and went flying in one direction or another — returned out 
of breath and perspiring, threw off his coat, flung him- 
self into his chair and pitphed in once more. 
The noon hour he dreaded, for he knew that he must 
interrupt his labors to eat. Why can't we eat and work 
at the same time? he would ask himself; or, Why do we 
have, to eat at all? He thought seriously whether it would 
not be possible to invent some device whereby the stomach 
could be opened and filled from the side. What a blessing 
— what a saving of time — that would be I Though obliged 
to give it up, as far as opening the stomach was con- 
cerned, he partially solved the problem by going to a 
"quick lunch" resort, where he made two bites of a sand- 
wnch and a piece of pie and away. 
His afternoon was even more strenuous than his morn- 
ing, and when he arrived home he was fagged out. At 
dinner he gorged himself to make up for his meager 
breakfast and lunch, and was stupid as a cow thereafter in 
consequence. If his wife proposed the theater, or a ball, 
he would beg to be left alone, and usually was while she 
went out with "cousin Charlie." For an hour or two he 
would dawdle over financial reports, or stock market 
quotations, and then drop off to sleep like a serpent that 
had swallowed a goat, his slumbers being visited by the 
most horrible nightmares. 
Ten years of this began to tell on him, so at his doc- 
tor's imperative order, he took a vacation of a week. (His 
doctor wanted him to make it a month, but he wouldn't 
hear of it.) Away he went, therefore, proniising himself 
to leave his business behind, as per prescription, but it 
was no use. He did nothing but think of it all day and 
fret and worry and bore himself to death. Whether on 
water or on land, fishing or golfing, it was all one. What's 
the good of wasting time with a fool line, or a fool ball? 
he would say. When his week was up he shouted for 
sheer joy and returned to harness, vowing that he would 
never again get out of it. 
For the present we will leave him and turn to Jones. 
Agreeably to his motto. Jones had evolved a very differ- 
ent scheme of life. When he awoke he did not jump 
feverishly out of bed, but lay for a while smiling over the 
recollection of his dreams, or just "soaking," as the 
schoolboys say; and if, perchance, he closed his eyes 
again, it didn't at all matter. Breakfast was always at his 
orders, and he ate the meal deliberately while reading his 
morning paper. This usually afforded him much occasion 
for amusement. It was the record of the daily human 
comedy. After breakfast, instead of rushing to the ele- 
vated station to catch a train, he set out leisurely to walk 
down town. At the office he left the attendance of clerks 
and all such matters to a trusted subordinate. "I never 
bother with details," said Jones. Consequently he had a 
good deal of spare time on his hands, which he employed 
in talking and laughing with friends who called. He 
smoked a mild cigar in the morning and another in the 
afternoon, and once in a while he would leave the office 
with some bosom friend and come back looking particu- 
larly contented and jolly. From which it was argued by 
peeping Tom, the "wise guy" of the office— but no matter. 
His lunch he usually spent an hour over, and he always 
had a soup, a cut of roast or boiled, and a vegetable. In 
the afternoon he took things dead easy— was out in the 
open air much, but yet not idle. At 4 o'clock promptly 
he started for home — again on "shank's mare." Before 
dinner he bowled for an hour. After that meal, which was 
as sensible and as sensibly partaken of as his lunch, he 
read Forest and Stream for a good digestion. Twice a 
week he went to some play or other amusement with the 
wife of his bosom (who was never known to indulge m 
one little nagging word — so true it is that good nature in 
the husband begetteth good return in the wife). During 
the other evenings of the week he played whist, or chess 
(he drew the line at ping pong) or read some breezy 
works of adventure.- 
But what Jones did especially was this : Every now and 
then he went off on a little sporting tour. In the spring 
he went a-fishing, in the summer he went a-golfing or 
a- sailing, and in the fall he went a-hunting. Oh, the 
pleasant hours he spent in contact with nature ! What joy 
it was to play and land a great silvery trout, or make a 
=;traight drive, or reef a mainsail in a blow, or stop a 
partridge on the wing! And what joy to drink in the 
fresh air, bask in the sun and revel in the manifold 
beauties of nature ! And then what a store of health he ' 
was laying in — ^how his lungs grew deep, his stomach 
grew strong, his sinews grew supple, his eye grew clear 
and his skin grew brown and luminous ! Talk of the 
granaries of Egypt ! They were not in it with Jones' store, 
Happy Jones ! 
Now the reader is to know that Smith and Jones had 
been boys together, but had drifted apart on the ocean 
of life. It happened thirty long years ago after this event 
that the two quondam friends ran across each other. 
Neither did Smith recognize Jones, nor Jones Smith, but a 
mere chance discovered them to each other. Smith was 
being helped into an invalid chair, and Jones, passing at 
the time and seeing his feebleness, with his usual good 
nature went to assist the attendant. 
"Sir," said Smith, in a weak emasculated voice, "you 
are very kind. It would give me pleasure to know your 
name." 
"My name is Jones," said Jones. 
"Jones, Jones," repeated the invalid, "any relation to 
the family of that name of Spring Yulley?" 
"Rather," said Jones, "the worthy Ephraim was my 
parent." 
"Is it possible?" exclaimed the invalid. "But you are 
surely jesting. Ephraim had no son 'wsho could look so 
young as you." 
"Oh," said Jones, "I ain't so young. Fifty next birth- 
day, I guess." 
"You don't look forty," said the invalid. And then 
ruefullv : "Do j'ou remember your old comrade. Bill 
Smith?'" 
"Why, sure," said Jones. What of him?" 
"You see him before you, Sam." 
Jones fell back in astonishment. Then he rushed for- 
ward and grasped the invalid's hand. 
"I'm so sorry," he cried, "to see you like this, Bill. 
W^hat has done it?" 
Smith leaned back in his chair wearily, like a broken 
man. 
"Making a million," he answered, with a sigh. 
Francis Moonan. 
Camp-Fire Flickerings from the 
Miami Valley. 
Who does not love to look back over the receding 
years and recall to his mind stories of the old days, days 
when the red hunter pitched his wigwam on the banks 
of the lonely rivers and the furry and antlered inhabi- 
tants roamed at will in the vast forests? Nothing is 
more enjoyable to me than to draw my chair up to the 
fireplace and listen to the stories of some old settler. 
I enjoy the acquaintance of several of these and have 
collected from them quite a number of amusing sketches 
of the frontier, a few of which I will now relate. 
At one time the early settlers of Dayton, O., were 
dependent upon the Kentucky settlers for salt. This nec- 
essary article was always brought from Kentucky by 
way of the old Mad River Trail. It was always put up 
in great bags and carried on the back of a pack horse. 
The distance from Kentucky to Dayton was sixty miles, 
and the trip was usually made in two days. The man 
generally chosen to make the trip was David Pette- 
grew. and it was from his son that I learned the follow- 
ing laughable incident: 
It was his usual custom when stopping for the night 
to turn the pack horse loose without taking off the 
packs, but on this particular night he thought he would 
take the pack off and rearrange it, as it had been per- 
sisting all day in sHpping off. 
The salt was easily gotten off and the pack saddle 
fixed securely, but when he came to put the bags on 
again he found that try as he would he could not lift 
them. Here was a predicament that, trifling as it ap- 
peared, was difficult to overcome. Again and again he 
lifted at the bags, but all to no purpose. They would 
not budge an inch. Then a happy idea struck him and 
■ he proceeded to act upon it at once. Arranging his 
bags as best he could he peeled a number of sapling, 
making ropes out of the bark with which he threw and 
tied his horse securely. He managed to throw the horse 
so that its back just fitted up to the bags. Then he 
fastened the bags to the pack saddle and cut the thongs 
with which the horse was tied. After a few unsuccess- 
ful efforts the horse gained his feet, and the difficulty 
that a few moments before seemed insurmountable, was 
overcome. 
A Beaver Skin for a Smell of "Whisky. 
One of the chief articles of barter used by the early 
traders was whisky. The Indian would pay big prices 
for a drink of "firewater," often neglecting the wants 
of himself and family to get the coveted article. In fact, 
a trader who did not carry it could not remain long in 
the business. The traders knew this and generally tried 
to accommodate the Indian with all he could drink, but 
one time a certain party drank all the whisky themselves 
before the Indian country was reached. They knew 
what the consequences would be, but their appetite for 
liquor was too strong to be resisted. Upon reaching 
the Indian country they realized that they would have 
serious difficulty in dealing with the redskins., but, never- 
theless, they unpacked their goods and attempted to 
trade without any liquor. Indian after Indian came up 
with rich packs of fur and everyone uttered a smothered 
"ugh" and walked away when he found that he could 
not get "firewater." At length some one hit upon the 
plan of telling the Indians a monstrous lie. He told 
them that the man that made the whisky was dead and 
that no one else knew how to make it, but as they had 
always liked "firewater" so well, he had saved the flasks 
in which it had been kept in order that they might at 
least get a smell of the beloved Hquid once more. The 
traders then insisted that for each senell out of the flask 
the Indian must give one beaver skin or other skins of 
equal value. The demands were complied with, and it 
is said that they carried on a thriving business as long as 
they remained in the country. It is needless to say. 
however, that the traders never ventured among those 
Indians again after the cheat was found out. 
A Farm for a Barrel of Whisky, 
In the Great Miami valley at one time lived a man 
named Fox, who was desirous of obtaining a large tract 
of land. In the same neighborhood also lived a well-to- 
do man, who had been at one time the owner of a large 
distillery in Virginia, which was noted for the fine whisky 
it produced. Upon removing to Ohio the man sold the 
plant. He found that in the newly settled section into 
