July ii, 1903.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
27 
Paid a boy fifteen cents down the road here fur a lot o' 
hulled wild strawberries. Git now, you lazy! You made 
a fool o' me last night, an' then snored till momin'. 
Looks like a good day fur fishin!" 
A chuckle and gray head emerge from the tent to- 
gether. 
"So it was no dream. You really did kick me in the 
side. Never mind — I'll tie knots in yer shirt when we go 
in swimmin' after dinner." 
Tent mates ! Their fondness for each other is strong 
as ever ; but it will be held in check, and not permitted to 
run riot, as it did last night under the stars and beside 
the witching camp-fire. Not many more leaf-falls before 
they will have a longer sleep, side by side, in the center 
of that long reach of the double family lot in a Brook- 
lyn cemetery where two little, white head-stones already 
stand at either end. L. F. Brown. 
The Brook/' 
Tennyson never got his inspiration to write "The 
Brook" in Pike county, Pennsylvania. "Lawns and 
grassy plots" are singularly missing, while "sweet for- 
get-me-nots" would have consisted largely of black and 
blue spots with "now and then" a fracture. More 
"like the giant refreshed with wine" are these streams 
at high tide, majestic in their beautj^, dangerous in 
their fancy. Yet here are found the luscious trout 
and "now and then" an angler. 
Up there "we slumber under moon and stars" (only) 
one needs X-rays in addition to "netted sunbeams" to 
be anywhere sure of his footing, and even then he 
would find that gay and festive colorings are some- 
times deceiving. 
Mr. Kenneth Fowler and I had talked about the 
Levis Bi-anch, the Broadhead, Goose Pond Run and 
tributaries over our lunch for two weeks, until our 
meat tasted fishy, and we determined that there was 
but one cure for the well-known disease, so we went. 
In Hoboken he introduced me to Mr. Henry 
Chesebro, his brother-in-law, a factor at home, a fac- 
tor at the Chester Military College, and the real thing 
on a fishing trip. En route this little soldier showed 
his indifference to excitement and dangers hy going to 
sleep, while we of more tender discipline though riper 
years, examined flies, reels, lines, rods, and allowed 
our imaginations to distance a fast train. 
Henry, my old guide, met us at Cresco, and here 
was discovered a duplication of names, which in a 
party of four would never do. Somebody had to as- 
sume an alias, and it was up to the two Henrys. Hen, 
Henry, Hank; certainly a pretty bunch to choose from; 
imagine Hen or Hank in the Hall of Fame or on a 
tomb stone; it would never do; so we called our sol- 
dier boy Colonel, and our good Henry remained en- 
tirely himself. 
Monday morning, June 22, was really notorious for 
its sunbeams, a novelty rare; it gladdened the heart 
and quickened the pulses, it hurried our footsteps over 
craggy paths and cover toward Long Meadow three 
miles away. A glad and rollicking song brol.e forth 
from Fowler, the birds chirped in gladness as we 
"hiked" along Indian file behind Henry. The Liurel 
in full bloom hemmed our passage, assuming all its 
natural beauty, and more, a frightened frog plunged 
from a foot bridge, bidding us go on, go on, until 
with a charge sufficiently brave to annihilate any array, 
we break from cover and storm the meadow. 
"With many a curve my banks I fret. 
By many a field and fallow." 
It was here we had introduced to our creels the 
perverseness of things. I whipped that brook at long 
distance for three mortal hours without a rise^ while 
Fowler did the same thing at the other end with like 
results, while the Colonel in his "freshman" experience, 
let float along a squirmer. 
We met at the bridge, and smoked and watched the 
sunbeams penetrate the bottoms, while Henry told of 
taking six trout that weighed five pounds from that 
brook only four days ago, but it was a rainy day 
then. Oh, that the canopy of heaven would engulf 
us once more. 
"Well," said Fowler, "we'll give it one more try." 
"Back to your stations," says the Colonel, and we 
scatter. Shortly Fowler is seen struggling and Henry 
going to his rescue. I am just far enough away to 
hear, "Fully a pound." "Yes, that much, sure." and 
then I see the Colonel pulling for the woods with rod 
erect and teeth shut, and I hear a line of talk I have 
just forgotten, and— "he got oif in the grass." 
My wrist aches, but still the flies go whizzing through 
the air and are drawn along at a hop, skip and a jump. 
Still nothing doing. I come to the bridge and give it 
up, and in crestfallen silence await my friends. 
Fowler came in with a fine one, the Colonel had lost 
a finer one. I looked at Fowler's line to see the as- 
sortment of flies he was using, and discovered a plain 
No. 6 hook. We began "roasting" for lunch and din- 
ner right there. I was accused, but proved an alibi 
by forgetting ray hooks when I left home that morn- 
ing, but it didn't take rae long to borrow one from 
tny more thoughtful friends; they all had them. 
Henry now led the way to Goose Pond Run, two 
miles away, and here \ye took to the water. Goose 
Pond Run was above its normal condition, in its stillest 
moments. Prose should be used in describing it, and 
jspecially so from its center. It is pretty, grandlv so. 
it rushes and gurgles along over boulders and falls, 
jlunges here and roars there, forming, however, many 
lice pools for trout, but they cannot be taken by a 
Christian with flies, both- would be lost in the first 
lalf mile. 
"You slip, you slide, you gloom, you glance 
On the rocks 
At the bottom of the river. 
YoH thump, you bump, you take a long- chance 
On the rocks 
At the bottom of the river." 
Early in this game of athletics I filled my waders 
md spoiled my tobacco, yet wearied not. Occasion- 
illy a trQvit of goodly size was tak?n, ea?h of us get- 
ting his share. Through gorges, over falls we slide 
on. At a beautiful break just beyond a ravine, a trail 
crosses, and here we rest and take lunch. 
At 4 P. M. Henry tells us that it is less than three 
miles by a short route back to that meadow, and that 
he is sure that as the evening shades gather over the 
famous meadow, the trout will assume the aggressive, 
and that it will pay us to go back. We think so, too, 
and once more the line of march is taken up. Three- 
quarters of an hour later we again enjoy the peace and 
quiet of the mountain basin. The timber on the west 
side appeared in gigantic proportions in long shadows; 
the crickets clattered and chirped; the frogs croaked 
their loneliness; swallows skimmed along after their 
evening meal; the bees were leaving for home; the 
flies skimmered laxiguidly along the surface, and from 
weariness alone, I presume, we attacked that brook 
as quietly as Indians in quest of prey. 
"We wind about and in and out, 
With now and then a shiver." 
At last the stillness is broken, the Colonel has 
hitched to another big one, with thirty feet of slack 
line and a single action reel. He sticks to the reel. 
I call to him to take in the slack by hand; he mistakes 
my advice and starts for the woods. Again the rushes 
do the trick, and the Colonel loses another. Loosened 
belts and tinted skies remind us of a long day well 
done, and we pull for home. When there we discover 
that our years belong to time, our grades of fatigue 
were best measured by our years, and I was the oldest. 
Early next morning a drizzling rain set in, and while 
we \yere at breakfast some one suggested that this 
was just the morning to tackle the meadow, but I fan- 
cied the Levis branch, a half mile away, being more 
sensible than ever of life's obligations to time, and 
time's sore way of collecting its debts. 
"By thirty hills we hurried down. 
Or slept between the ridges," 
Until we were at the foot of the beautiful Levis falls. 
Here we take to the stream, the Colonel using my 
waders (they were too small for me this morning). 
The day before military breeches and baseball shoes 
had been his attire. At the top of a 6-foot fall the 
Colonel started across to reach a pretty pool opposite, 
but his legs carried too much sail, and his legs, boots 
and all swamped. He dexterously caught a rock, his 
ready smile from his submerged position assured us 
that he was quite comfortable, and he got to the other 
side and fished his pool. A bit further down Fowler's 
feet tried to exchange places with his head, and only 
the fact of his waders and "bib" being all one affair, 
saved him from walking in two barrels of water. And 
then came my turn again, and I took to the rocks on 
hands and knees, and the rest of my tobacco was out 
of business. Rain! How it rained. A ducking didn't 
hurt. We were getting it from above and below. 
"We chatted over stony ways. 
The speckled beauties to discover, 
Until those days, of all our days. 
Were too soon past forever." 
"Wet to the skin" is sometimes a misnomer, but it 
was not in this case; even our hats were leaking. But 
the ardor of our party was not even damp. We plunged 
on, the Colonel blue around the gills; but still he sang 
"White Wings" and "Home, Sweet Home," while the 
streamlets trickled behind his ears. Fowler sat on a 
rock and rendered a selection from "Toreador," while 
Henry seemed to understand the screetching of my 
soul, "Let's go home," and suggested the danger of 
pneumonia. 
I like to recall the spirit of my companions on this 
occasion, singing "There's no place like home," while 
climbing these wet and slippery mountain sides; the 
Colonel only ceasing in his melody when he fell down, 
and Fowler never lagging for any cause. Times were 
a trifle disappointing but never dull. 
Sensations intensify in retrospective moments. More 
vividly each day do I recall lying on my back close to 
a tall tree and putting my waders up its 'trunk to empty 
them of water. I'll take 'em off next time. 
T. E. Batten. 
Sewage Effluents and Fish Life* 
In a lengthy and important report on certain experi- 
ments carried out to ascertain the best methods of 
sewage disposal applicable to the county of Worces- 
ter, which was laid before the council of that county on 
Monday, several pages are devoted to the effect of 
crude sewage and the effluents of three systems upon 
fish life. Trout and gold fish were first placed -in a 
glass vessel (capable of holding 10 litres of water) with 
a known volume of sewage or sewage effluent as the 
case might be. In the crude sewage and water the 
trout were nearly dead in about ten minutes, the gold 
fish suffered less. Similar fish placed in the mixture, 
which had been first well shaken to aerate it, suffered 
less, going to prove a statement often made of late 
years that it is absence of oxygen rather than the 
poisonous properties in sewage which is so iniurious 
to fish. At the same time fish can be and are poisoned 
in the ordinary sense of the word by discharges from 
chemical works and the like. 
The next experiment was to place the fish in effluents 
from the three systems known as the septic tank sys- 
tem, the upward anaerobic bed system, and the con- 
tact bed system. As regards the first effluent, which 
was very deficient in oxygon, the effect in each case 
u^as more injurious to fisli than the crude sewage. 
The trout, if only left in it for a few minutes, were 
apparently dead, and attempts to revive them in- fresh 
water failed. The gold fish suffered less. However, 
in what is termed the "final effluent" of the three- sys- 
tems, provided the bacterial beds were in good order, - 
trout existed in the effluent for some time. Gold fish 
existed in a- mixed effluent coming from the three sys- 
tems for over one month without any ill effect. The 
conclusions drawn are that (i) The final effluent of the 
three systems may not destroy fish life so far as gold 
fish were experimented on, if the beds are in. good 
working order; (2) that the jnjurjr to fi^sl] ]ife is, usually 
owing to the lack of oxygen in the effluent; (3) that the 
salmon family require more oxygen than the carp 
family; (4) that it is unsafe to allow an effluent from 
a sewage system dealing with domestic sewage to pass 
into a river containing salmon, trout of any kind, or 
char, which is stated to be innocuous to fish life unless 
the facts of the case and the kind of fish experimented 
oil are known. It is interesting to note that the com- 
mittee responsible for the report show a preference for 
the septic tank system, and consider that domestic 
sewage, i. e., sewage which contains no waste materials 
from manufactories, can be satisfactoi-ily purified by 
its means. — London Field. 
A Mysterious Monster, 
Seattle, Wash. — Editor Forest and Stream: While 
operating a fishery on Admiralty Island, southeastern 
Alaska, last summer, my attention and the attention 
of the fishing crew were almost daily directed to a 
large marine creature that would appear in the main 
channel of Seymour Canal and in our immediate vicin- 
ity. 
There are large numbers of whales of the species 
rorqual there, and the monster seemed to be their nat- 
ural enemy. The whales generally travel in schools of 
two or more, *fend while at the surface to blow, one 
would be singled out and attacked by the fish, and a 
battle royal was soon in order. 
It is the nature of the rorqual to make three blows 
at intervals of from two to three minutes each, and 
then sound deep and stay beneath the surface for 
thirty or forty minutes. 
As a whale would come to the surface, there would 
appear always at the whale's right side and just about 
where his head would connect with the bodj^, a great, 
long tail or fin, "judged by five fishermen and a num- 
ber of Indians after seeing it about fifteen times at 
various distances," to be about 24 feet long, 2^/2 feet 
wide at the end, and tapering down to the water, where 
it seemed to be about 18 inches in diameter, looking: 
very much like the blade or fan of an old-fashioned 
Dutch windmill. This great club was used on the back 
of the unfortunate whale in such a manner that it was 
a wonder to me that every whale attacked was not in- 
stantly killed. Its operator seemed to have perfect 
control of its movements, and would bend it back till 
the end would touch the water, forming a horseshoe 
loop, then with a sweep it would be straightened and 
brought over and down on the back of the \^hale with 
a whack that could be heard for several miles. If the 
whale was fortunate enough to submerge his body be- 
fore the blows came, the spray would fly for a distance 
of 100 feet from the effect of the strike, making a re- 
port as loud as a yacht's signal gun. 
What seemed most remarkable to me was that no 
matter which way the attacked whale went, or how fast 
(the usual speed is about 14 knots), that great club 
would follow right along by its side and deliver those 
tremendous blows at intervals of about four or five 
seconds. It would always get in from three to five 
blows at each of the three times the whale would 
come to the surface to blow. The whale would gener- 
ally rid itself of the enemy when it took its deep 
sound, especially if the water was 40 fathoms or more 
deep. 
During the day the attack was always off shore, but 
at night the whales would be attacked in the bay and 
within 400 yards of the fishery. 
I do not know of any whales being killed, but there 
were several that had great holes and sores on their 
backs. 
Questioning the Indians about it, I was told that 
there was only one, that it had been there for many 
years, and that it once attacked an Indian canoe and 
with one stroke of the great club mashed the canoe 
into splinters, killing and drowning several of its occu- 
pants. 
Will some interested reader of Forest and Stream 
name and classify this marine monster for me? 
Cal. H. .Barkdull. 
Black Bass Fishing in Walker Lake. 
San Francisco, June 27. — Walker Lake lies in 
Esmeralda countj-, Nevada. 10 miles north of Carson 
City.- It is about 30 miles long, with an average width 
of 8 miles. On the south and west sides of the lake 
is the Mount Cory Range, a range of mountains from 
10,000 to 12,000 feet high. On the east and north lie 
the Gillis mountains, from 6,000 to 8,000 feet high. 
During the hot summer weather thunder storms are 
prevalent in the Mount Cory Range, and the wind 
comes down the canyon in severe squalls, which makes 
it at times somewhat unsafe for small boats to be on 
the lake. 
Black bass were first discovered in the lake about 
thirteen years ago, their presence there being due en- 
tirely to an accident. Some sixteen years ago a farmer 
in Antelope Valley had a private pond, in wliich he 
planted black bass, a cloud burst occurred in that 
canyon, which washed out the pond, and carried the 
fish to Walker River, thence to the lake, a distance 
of 50 miles, where they have increased most wonder- 
fully. The fishing season commences in June. June, 
Juljf and October are the best months. August ami 
September being out of the question on account of the 
heat. The fishermen who fish in this lake are princi- 
pallj' the residents of the neighborhood. The lures 
used are trolling spoons, the artificial minnow painted 
to look like a trout, and the P. & S. ball-bearing bass 
spoon. Fly-fishing is almost unknown, probably for 
the fact that' the fish taken are more for food s'upply 
than for sport. . A few, however, have been taken on a 
fly in the first week of June, fishing from the shore 
where the water is deep. 
Dr. C. E. Reed, of Hawthorne, writes to me as fol- 
lows: "I almost hate to give you the record of catches 
made here, for you will say it is a fishemian's yarn. 
When fishermen go out for the afternoon fish they 
never think of taking a fishing basket along, they take 
a barley Sf^ck with thenv, and it is nn unusual' thing 
