Nov. 20, 1902.] 
FOREST AND STREAM 
438 
vention of panthers had broken up in a free for all fight, 
nothing 'like" it had ever been heard in that neck of woods. 
Will and \^^alter finally reached the shore and retreated 
well into the woods, where I left them examining their 
wounds and fairly blubbering Avith fright. Swimming to 
the other side I found Jim lying across a log, retching 
and groaning as he rid his stomach of the warm water 
he had swallowed on his stormy passage back to safety. 
As I paddled across in the boat to bring in the wounded, 
it occurred to me that they would now each have to bite 
me with a snake before they could even up the score. 
Both boys were painfully scratched and both positive 
and vehement in their denial of my snag theory. Even 
after I paddled to it, got into the water and stood on 
the snag, they were skeptical and urged me not to risk 
my safetj'^ in that water. 
Supper was eaten almost in silence, and our nightly 
gathering around the fire was not enlivened by the usual 
flow of conversation. 
I had a large amount of fun on hand, but concluded that 
I had best save it until next day. 
Lewis Hopkin's. 
in an artsitic manner by Miner, of Saranac Lake, and is 
to be placed in the cpllcction which the Forest; Fish and 
Game Commission is making to illustrate the fishes of 
the State. The usual weight of the fish taken in the 
pond is about 16 pounds. 
Pennsylvania Mascalttngfc. 
Waterford, Pa., Nov. 14. — In your issue of Oct. 25 
you publish a record muscalonge caught in the St. Law- 
rence River, giving the length as 4 feet 8 inches, no 
weight given. I send you photo of muscalonge caught in 
our little Lake Leboeuf last August that was 4 feet 7 
TOOK THREE MEN TO LAND HIM. 
A muscalonge of 44lbs. 20z., taken by G. B. Skiff, C. E. Fish and 
L. Z. Fish, Aug. 14, 1902. 
inches long, weight, 44 pounds 2 ounces. The small fish 
weighed 12^ pounds. These fish were caught with 21- 
thread Cuttyhunk line. It took two hours to bring the 
large one to gaff. The fish is not our record fish, but 
next to it. I have landed seventeen muscalonge this sea- 
son from SJ4 to 15 pounds. My last this afternoon, 
weighed 8 pounds 2 ounces. F. J. K. 
4i 
Not All of Fishing.^ 
If you've read your Walton you will remember these 
lines, in which is set forth an ancient exposition of the 
modern saw, "that it is not all of fishing to fish." Says 
Piscator: "At Trout Hall, not far from this place, where 
I purpose to lodge to-night, there is usually an angler that 
proves good compani^ And let me tell you, good com- 
pany and good discourse are the very sinews of virtue. 
"I'll now lead you to an honest ale house, where we 
shall find a cleanly room, lavender in the windows, and 
twenty ballads stuck about the wall : there my hostess, 
which I may tell you is both cleanly, and handsome, and 
civil, hath dressed many a one for me; and shall now 
dress it after my fashion, and I warrant it good meat." 
Ven. : "Come, sir, with all my heart, for I begin to be 
hungry, and long to be at it, and, indeed, to rest myself 
too ; for though I have walked but four miles this morn- 
ing, yet I begin to be weary; yesterday's hunting hangs 
still upon me." 
■Pisc. : "Well, sir, and you shall quickly be at rest; 
for yonder is the house I mean to bring you to. Come, 
hostess, how do you? Will you. first give us a cup of 
your best drink, and then dress this chub as you dressed 
my last, when I and my friend were here about eight or 
ten days ago ? But yoit must do me one courtesy — it must 
be done instantly." 
The Km^ of the Pikes, 
There is now on exhibition at the office of Mr. Ferris 
Meigs, at No. 26 Broadway, what is probably the largest 
pike ever caughtjn this State. This giant fish measured 
when caught 43.5 inches long and weighed a plump 25 
pounds. It was taken on a common spoon with a naked 
hook on a hand line in Folansbee Pond, in Franklin coun- 
ty, in September, by Miss Juliet Wilbur Tompkins. Miss 
"Tompkins, who is a short-story writer of no little re- 
noviTi, was enjoying a vacation when she had the fortune 
to land her trophy. The big fish made an exciting fight, 
•which lasted fully twenty-five minutes. It was mounted 
In conclusion, I beg to thank Mr. Brown for his gen- 
erous and most sportsmanlike kindliness toward me. If 
the opportunity ever presents itself I shall be glad to 
take him in friendly spirit by the hand and talk over our 
little differences in a gentle way, as I really feel, even 
if my words seem to be otherwise. 
Albert Converse. 
Fbctores. 
BENCH SHOWS. 
Nov. 26-29.— Philadelphia.— Philadelphia Dog Show Association's 
show. M. A. Viti, Sec'y. 
FIELD TRIALS. 
Nov. 29.— Thomasville, N. C— Continental Field Trial Oub's 
eighth annual trials. . _. , , _ . , 
Nov. 24.— Glascow, Ky. — American Championship Field Trial 
Club's second annual trials. Chas. B. Cooke, Sec'y, Richmond, Va. 
Dec. 15.— Huntsville, Ala— Alabama Field Trial Club's (member 
of the American Championship Club) third annual trials. John 
F. Fletcher, Sec'y, Birmingham, Ala. 
^'A Vermont Mode/' 
Philadelphia, Pa.— In Forest and Stream of Nov. 
8 you were so indulgent as to publish a communication 
from me on that long-debated and inconclusive hunting is- 
sue, fox-hunting as conducted in the North and the 
South. To it there have been two replies, both in excel- 
lent temper, and both bearing all the evidences of the 
writers' sincere faith in their contention and in the sound- 
ness of the views promulgated in them. I desire to say 
that, though my communication may have seemed to have 
a personal trend, it was not intended to be personal. It 
was directed more at methods than at men. 
With your permission. Mr. Editor, I will endeavor to 
show where Mr. J. H. Monson, in Forest and Stream 
of Nov. 15, and Mr. W. W. BroAvn, in the issue of Nov. 
22, present some arguments which are fallacious. 
Mr. Monson rests his chief defense on the following: 
"Now. as to digging out a fox that had been run to 
earth, while I should not like to do that, I confess that I 
can see mighty little difference between that and the Eng- 
lish fox hunting practice of sending out a man before- 
hand to stop up the entrances to the holes to which it is 
thought the pursued fox will run for refuge from the 
hounds. There may be a difference between stopping up 
a hole so that the fox cannot get into it and digging him 
out after he has got into it, but I cannot see the distinc- 
tion. To me it means just the same for the fox."_ 
I think that with a few seconds of deliberation, Mr. 
Monson will concede that there is a vast difference be- 
tween the situation of a fox blocked in a hole and one 
blocked out of it. In the one instance the fox is entirely 
deprived of all his natural powers, so far as escape is 
concerned; in the other the fox is left in the exercise of 
all his natural powers unhampered. Speed, cunning, en- 
durance, courage — all are nothing to the fox in a hole; 
they arc everything to a fox at liberty. The fox in a 
hole can be dug out and to a certainty captured ignom- 
iniously ; the fox at large may or not be captured ; but, if 
captured, he succumbs with banners flying and the honors 
of war. 
I would call Mr. Monson's attention to the fact that, in 
England, with all the burrows stopped, and an even strug- 
gle between fox on the one side and hounds and horses 
on the other on the earth's surface, the fox frequently 
escapes. 
Let us next consider Mr. Brown's argument. He says : 
"From the point of view of the humanitarian, the New 
England method is the better of the two. It lacks all 
the elements of savagery found in the English or South- 
ern hunt, where the hunters, who are well enough 
mounted, arrive in time to see an exliausted fox torn to 
shreds by the wolfish pack." 
I beg to call Mr. Brown's attenion to the fact that the 
fox frequently escapes ; that if the fox's craft, speed and 
endurance are not sufficient to preserve his body, when 
the final act comes, it is between the dogs and the fox, 
not between the men and the fox. He continues: 
"From the point of view of the sportsman— yes, but 
there is no point: there are as many points of view as 
there are kinds and conditions of men." 
I beg that Mr. Brown will permit me to differ with him 
on this point. While his statement has a certain correct- 
ness as applied to men who shoot over setters and point- 
ers, or pursue big game, it does not hold good as regards 
fox hunters. In England fox hunting is a national pas- 
time. Men in that country have been schooled in its re- 
finements from childhood to old age, as were their an- 
cestors before them through generations far into the un- 
known past. The fox hunters ride in numbers, and, there- 
fore, all their doings are constantly under the scrutinj^ 
of their fellows. 
The fox-hunting laws were formulated by common 
consent, the outgrowth restiltingr from the experience of 
generations, and the wisdom of the, ages. There is no 
point on fox hunting— and by fox hunting, I mean fox 
hunting as conducted in England and the South — but 
what is covered by law universally accepted. Bitt where 
the sport is individual, that is to say. Avhen men hunt 
solitary, as in field shooting and New England fox har- 
rying, then each individual has his own peculiar view 
point. There is all the difference between them that 
there is betAveen a rank of trained soldiers and an awk- 
ward squad. One in concert acts by- certain standards, 
the other is emphaticallv individual. 
Mr. Brown says : "With us it is a question of the pres- 
ent method, or none at all." 
Here we come to the real issue. I concede the right of 
New Englanders to hunt the. fox as they choose, but I 
object to the term bv which they designate it. Fox hunt- 
ing is a term which has a certain well defined significance 
during manj'- generations. It denotes the use of horses 
and hounds in the pursuit. It never contemplated the 
methods employed in New England. I object to the 
misuse of the term. Let the New EngJander hunt his fox 
in his own way, but let him adopt a distinct name for it. 
Call it any name other than fox hunting, a name asso- 
ciated with tradition, chivalry, hard riding and fox-hunt- 
ing law. Thys, Mr. Brown will note that I do not opoose 
his methods of hunting the fox, but I do most emphati- 
cally object to the malappropriation of an honored title, 
''Major's'' Cure. 
.There is joy once more at Eagle Lake in the town of 
Ti. Major" will hunt with his master once more, and 
all past disagreements are positively called off. I forgot 
to say that "Major" is a rough-haired yt^llow dog, the son 
of "Mary Jane," a pure blooded Irish terrier bench show 
favorite, his sire being a plucky Chilson Hill dog of no 
special pedigree. "Major" is known all over the land 
by an account of his plucky and successful trailing of a 
huge black bear two years ago in Peekinoose Swamp and 
thereabotits, published in the New York Sun. He has 
the reputation also of being the best all around dog in 
town, and A. had held him at $75 until the unfortunate 
gray squirrel trip to the Vineyard, in 1900, when he was 
"spiled," to use local phraseology. 
On that morning dog. master, and a New York man 
started for the maple and hickory groves along Lake 
Champlain, ten miles distant, and down the hill toward 
Ticonderoga. The city man, used to suburban hunting, 
suggested taking "Major" in the wagon to save his 
strength, but A. would not hear of it. It might make the 
dog lazy, etc. So the willing one was permitted to race 
ahead and behind the fast mare in the clear frosty air, 
now exploring sheds and barns with rapid pace and then 
tearing up hill and down dale as he neared some likely 
place for game or struck a particularly fresh track. On 
reaching the "flats" and nearing the "squirrel acre," a 
big bulldog had an argument with the yellow dog, who 
was quickly called to the wagon, coming in with an omin- 
ous limp in his gait. "Major" was in fair shape upon 
reaching the cover, but seemed to dread the briers where 
the birds skulked. We needed him just then and were 
impatient at his apparent indifference. So he was lightly 
switched and ordered to go .and find them. He started 
off, but soon came slinking back with his tail between his 
legs in an extraordinary manner. After a good rest we 
started in again after grays this time, and "Major" kept 
along with us, treeing a big one and stopping another 
as it fell wounded. This was training that pleased us 
all, and he seemed to like it. By and by the grape vines 
and low scrub oaks needed investigation, and he refused 
to work, whereupon a second switching was given and 
a more miserable dog or a more disgusted owner I never 
saw. 
Upon raching tlie old log farm house Major lay down 
by the stove and kept so quiet that we actually said good- 
by and had gotten half a mile on our way home before 
we missed our dog. Back went A., while I stalked grouse 
among the withhazels in the pasture at the top of the long 
hill. Finally the wagon arrived. "He didn't even want 
to come home with me." said A., mournfully. We jour- 
neyed rather silently, hoping that "Major" would forget 
it in a day or two, but he did not. Nor did the long win- 
ter that followed change his mind. He thought that his 
beloved master had whipped him for hunting birds, and 
he decided to do no more of it for him in future, al- 
though he did not adhere to the rule when others occa- 
sionally took him out with the gun. A. had only to say 
"Hunt 'em out, Maje," to start the dog for home full tilt. 
I felt sorry for my two friends and hoped to fix things 
up between them. So, finally. I said prophetically: "He 
can be cured by the hair of the dog that bit him," as it 
were. "Let's take him down there again to-morrow and 
carry him under the lap robe all the way," I continued. 
"It won't hurt him and maybe he will forget the whip- 
ping of last year if he gets orders on the old ground 
again."^ 
Accordingly, one brisk morning last October, we started 
off early to repeat our trip to the old log farmhouse, and 
"Major," albeit much against his will, rode along. He 
made great efforts to jump out and rim home as usual, 
bitt the straps held fast, and after going it blind for three 
miles, he became contented and seemed to take pleasure 
in the trip, his soft brown eyes appearing from beneath 
the covers from time to time. We put away "Kittie," the 
black mare, and got out our armament, a Stevens No. 25 
rifle' and a No. 12 Baker, with the intention of getting a 
bag of game, dog or no dog. "Major" skipped and 
juniped from want of exercise, but appeared to take some 
notice of things as we passed a clump of raspberry briers. 
A. encouraged him with a word, but, alas, the old feeling 
returned, for he came crouching back toward us. I quick- 
ly sent A. on ahead, petted and encouraged "Major" and 
took him with me into a thicket at the edge of a field 
where I was sure there was a bird. So there was, too, 
for the dog at once began to trail all over the hill, and 
as I stood by, hoping for a shot, a roar of wings came 
from the other side, showing that a noble grouse had been 
aroused. The dog followed the flight with his eye and ' 
legs, and treed the bird several rods off in a big hemlock. 
I shouted, and A. came up and made a neat long distance 
kill with his .25 Stevens. More birds flew from adjoin- 
ing trees and the dog soon barked again, but the brush 
was too thick to see anything. He then chased a big 
hare into my pocket, and when his first gray was sighted 
and treed, A. seemed happy once more. I left at once 
for a big patch of woods where I thought that Betsey 
Baker and I would have some sport, but the sun was 
now very warm, and the grays, although all about me in 
the thick maples, would only "sing" occasionally, giving 
me no chance for a shot. I heard a perfect song of joy 
from the little Stevens, and a jolly obligato from "Maje." 
So I gulped down my disappointment at coming so far 
for nothing, glad to know that my old friend was happy 
in his dog's confidence once more. The shades from 
Buck Mountain were lengthening as I wearily climbed 
up the Bliss Hill over my old hunting path where I had 
carried so much game in days gone by. I found A. quiet- 
ly chatting under the big poplar with his host about crops, 
matters and things generally, and he said "The dog is 
all right. He treed and brought to me several grays, 
put up more than twenty partridges and I foolishly didn't 
hit a one." 
"Major" was glad to ride home that night, and I ani 
told that hh value i§ agaio r€St?«r^, for he aq^v xjeveir 
