242 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
tSEPT. 1903. 
— # — 
AJl communications intended for Forest and Stream should 
always be addressed to the Forest and Stream Publishing Co., 
Mew York, and not to any individual connected with the paper. 
The Game Laws in Br ic J 
is the standard authority of fish and game laws of the United 
States and Canada. It tells everything and gives it correctly. 
See in advertising pages list of some of the dealers who handle 
the Brief. 
Camping on the Manistee. — IL 
Monday. 
This Monday is a yesterday of the past in actions and 
deeds only. We who have known these yesterdays are a 
privileged lot; there are many incidents found there that 
re-occur to us as the months and years roll on, furnish- 
ing mental masterpieces that prohibit dull hours as well 
as aid the digestion; the sunshine is brighter for our 
having known such days ; and our daily behavior in all 
things is made better by them. 
_ Until noon on this day each hour furnished its sensa- 
tions ; always, however, sufficiently far apart not to wreck 
the nerves completely. Mr. Widdioomb entered the river 
above camp, and Mr. Lockwood at the camp, while I 
entt red it a few bends below. Here the boat waited until 
Mr. Lockwood reached it; then he was carried past me, 
and behind us both came Mr. Widdicomb. 
To the casual observer it would naturally appear that 
in this most generous arrangement of things, always 
directed by Mr. Widdicomb, he. in his distribution of his 
guests, had furnished himself with dry picking. I thought 
so, too. Mr. Lockwood insisted on balking, but was over- 
ruled and ordered into the river. It does not detract in 
the least from the spirit with which Mr. Widdicomb 
placed us for me to say that in his age of wisdom and his 
knowledge of men he was "on to us," as was seen when 
we came to one of those places of rest seemingly put 
there on purpose — a grassy spot surrounded by alders and 
soft maples; one of those little plots of ground that are 
half sunshine, half shade, where the wind does not blow; 
but the si i gill breezes meet. Here Sherwood was cooking 
the coffee as we came in one at a time. When Mr. Wid- 
dicomb arrived it was found that his creel contained as 
many trout a' ours combined. The sage of the stream 
was "on to us," indeed. 
To those who have eaten of this dinner in the woods, 
consisting of trout, bacon and fried potatoes, all out of 
one skillet ; coffee, bread and butter and pickles, and a 
jar of cheese, I have nothing to offer except congratula- 
tions. But to those who have not, my advice is to go 
bef(jre the snow flies; then draw on the boat for a 
"poncho," spread it half in the shade, half in the sun, 
with your feet to the west, lie down with your pipe well 
filled and watch' the light clouds form ruined castles 
and snowcapped mountains. In just one hour the sun 
in your face will wake you up, and it's only your sur- 
roundings that keep you from being sorry. 
What we felt and saw and knew at that dinner by the 
riA'er was repeated at supper, made different only by the 
change of time. Here long shadows were created by the 
camp-fire which made the heavens look black and the 
stars like yillow gems. It was shortly after that the 
candle on the box was blown out, good nights were said, 
and I Iiegan fishing all over again. I have often thought 
■ since that it was mean of my tent mates to envy me the 
plerisure niy dreams gave me. 
Tuesday proved so exact a repetition of Monday, with 
one exception, that it should be the basis of perpetual 
motion. 
This exception to me is dear; to my friends even 
dearer. In their ever apparent desire that my trip should 
be a whole and wholesome success they hoped daily that 
I might catch a grayling. I, too, hoped that this might 
prove true; to take one of those pretty game fishes that 
will soon be but a vigne memory was but a natural de- 
sire. It was in the afternoon that T came to a long sweep 
in the river where the foliage was scant by the edges, the 
bottom one bnnk of gravel, and the current swift. I was 
just a bit fatigued, and in making my casts I let my flies 
drift, and sink, following them down stream. In draw- 
ing for a fresh cast it occurred to me for an instant that 
my line was caught, but only for an instant. It tightened, 
then slackened, and then shot into view fifty feet down 
stream, a streak of silver — a grayling! The ensuing fight 
was a careful one ; the responsibility of a steamship cap- 
tain in a storm seemed no greater than I felt. I won, 
however, and thus handled the first grayling I had ever 
seen. It is needless to add that this fish has been care- 
fully preserved ; and, in addition to this specimen, Mr. 
Russell W, Woodward, of Elizabeth, N. J., has presented 
me with a reprodnction of John L, Petrie's painting of 
the Montana grayling {Tliymallus signifer montanus) as 
a souvenir of my luck. 
Vsitofs, 
It was on Wednesday that the river above camp was 
visited, and o"r collection of trout was nicely increased 
in numbers and size. It was on Wednesday th?t I cast 
by a red flower on the margin of the river again, and the 
tro"t thai I had heard of for twenty-five years and looked 
for for the same amotmt of time, cqme forth and "did 
me" atnio-st tn the extent of tears. This mi^nster struck 
from under the Avater and T .strnck at the same time; and 
it's a question in my mind which struck the hardest, or 
which received the greater shock. The fisrht didn't last 
lout?: the only thing T can liken that trout's actions to 
is the propeller of an ocean steamer as it leaves the water 
when ih- how is down in a troubled se^ ; or a doff fig^ht 
hetxvren 'wo fox terriers. He never did stop fiahting. 
I tried to "play him." h"t it was liVc plnving line out to a 
dog h iving a fit. He didn't need line; he needed a club 
or an ax. When, however. T least expected it. he took 
line jusi as thouHi it belonged to him. T tried to stop 
his rush, but couldn't. He tnadc a dish directly under a 
sifunp and out the other side, then turned. T can fed 
thai <nnp yet. I waded to the opposite bank and sat down 
^d leeled in that lislle$? Uue— sick, iust sick, \'\\ v^pt 
publish even a part of what I thought. That trout was a 
buster. 
As we approached camp that evening we were greatly 
surprised to see another tent pitched in our garden, an- 
other pair of horses browsing nearby, and another camp- 
fire burning as if to give us a double welcome. As our 
team came to a stop and Mr. Lockwood let himself down 
from the wagon (it wasn't just Mr. Lockwood's time of 
day for ji.imping), he was greeted by Mr. Geo. S. Fowler, 
of Washington, a gentleman he had known for many 
years. Mr. Fowler then presented Judge J. E. William- 
son, of Evansville, Ind. ; both Messrs. Lockwood and 
Widdicomb bade them welcome, while I emptied my 
waders, which, as usual, had been full since shortly after 
noon. 
Judge Williamson. 
Judge Williamson is a man just past the divide of life 
in years only; of medium height, jolly, rotund figure, 
smooth face and laughing blue eyes. These eyes are the 
visible seat of humor; from them shines a benevolence 
that speaks peace to the world. His corduroy suit and 
cap become him well. The vest was big at the arm holes, 
WADTNG THE MANISTEE. 
where the thumb rests while the Judge is telling a story. 
In voice his tones are as soft as the falling dew and as 
soothing as the bottle to the babe. His words are 
rounded and drawn as in Kentucky, 
When Mr. Widdicomb presented me to the Judge, it was 
as the business manager of T'orest and Stream ; from that 
moment I was the Judge's friend. He assured me that he 
"had enjoyed the dear old paper for thirty-three years," 
and when I reminded huu of the fact that the thirtieth 
anniversary of Forest and Stre.\m was but a few days 
ago, his reply was thoroughly characteristic: "I wasn't 
thinking, Mr. Batten, of the years that the paper had been 
printed; T w^as thinking of the years I had enjoyed it. 
You are only recording the history of that nature that I 
have loved." 
It was after all had had supper and an extra log was 
rolled up to our camp-fire to accommodate our guests 
that we fully discovered that Judge Williamson was tak- 
ing a whole mental and physical vacation, and that body 
and mind were fully and healthily responsive to the 
DUKE. 
change. Our vplumes of laughter rolled away into the 
darkness, creating peculiar echoes; the Judge unrolled his 
repertoire of stories, many of them incidents of his own 
interesting career; social and political phases of life were 
handled by a star performer, and there were no night- 
mares that night from indigestion. Even I failed to catch 
a trout in my sleep. 
They Needed the Fish. 
In a recent conversation with a gentleman he told me 
that during some of the years he had spent in the far 
West he had many times gone fishing when he needed the 
fish ; it was a case of having to have them or go hungry. 
I didn't ask my friend his mode of catching them, be- 
lieving, as I do, that honest necessity does not drive one 
to a law library. 
It was probably three o'clock on this memorable 
Wednesday that Frank Taylor, who was fishing a tribu- 
tary to the Manistee, thus mitigating the otherwise lonely 
hours at camp, came out to the river where just above 
him he saw a strange boat, and in it were two strangers. 
Not caring to disturb the gentleman that was doing the 
fishing, he crossed lots to camp. Later it was learned that 
this fisherman was Judge Williamson. In relating the 
occurrence to Mr. Widdicomb, who in turn told Mr. 
Lockwood and me, he described the judge as sitting amid- 
ships, with a fly-rod in on^ baitd, casting his pret^ at-> 
tractions here and there with a graceful sweep of his 
powerful arm; while in the other hand he held a short 
stout bait-rod, "plunking" for trout, while the sun and 
a double expectancy shone on his benevolent countenance, 
and the blue eyes sparkled with hope and anticipation. 
It was probably nine o'clock the same night that I 
turjied to Judge Williamson and asked him what he 
thought of a man who went "plunking" for trout. "Why, 
sir," said the Judge, "he ought to get six months during 
the trout fishing season." 
"Well Judge, what do you think of a man who goes 
fliy-fishing with one hand and plunking with the other?" 
"Good heavens, Mr. Batten, did you see me?" 
"No, Judge, but someone else did." 
"Well," said the Judge, "it is a whole sight different 
when you need the fish; and I quite assure you we need 
them. However," he continued, "it is hardly necessary 
for me to remind you of the prettiest, and sweetest, and 
truest ethics of home, club and camp life, which, to my 
mind, is the sacredness of their secrets." 
I quite concur in the Judge's opinion, and in deviating 
even to a limited degree from my own conception of that 
which seems true to tradition and real in fact, I am bear- 
ing always in mind the fact that they needed the fish. 
When I bade Judge Williamson a regretable adieu the 
next day, he led me by the arm in a most affectionate 
manner to one side of the camp, and, doubling up his soft 
red fist with a tension that turned it white, asked how I 
would like to meet that fist face to face. 
I assured him that his story of his encounter with a 
newspaper man the night before had impressed me at the 
time as having a moral to it; and that I was glad our 
office had a side door, but that he might just as well ask 
me to annihilate that which grief and joy alike can call 
its own, dear Memory, as to ask me to forget that they 
needed the fish ; even the palsied vein of humor in the 
dying must become active at the recollection of so rare 
and so real a sight of necessity's needs being catered to. 
Our whole admiration of Judge Williamson was best at- 
tested when Mr. Widdicomb placed his hand on. the 
Judge's shoulder and said : "Judge, I'd like to camp with 
you some time." In this he spoke for us all. I, too, 
should like to supply the Judge with trout three times a 
day and reduce his labor to one rod. 
Thatsday. 
This day is memorable to us as our last day in camp. 
Scenes and sensations were, however, unaltered : it was 
like the other days just as one stick of candy is like an- 
other, and ten sticks are better than one. This day was 
not without incidents, however, that were not on the 
daily programme. Duke smashed the monotony of camp 
life by tiirning deer hound, and he made three deer take 
to the hills while he gave tongue to the chase. Mr. 
Lockwood encountered an otter, and Mr. Widdicomb 
caught a mink. Accuracy in fly-casting made this alone 
possible; but the subsequent scrap with that mink un- 
doubtedly at times made Mr. Widdicomb regret his 
prowess. In, describing the contest he said "there were 
times I was -tempted to anchor the varmint with rod, reel 
and all, while I got a club; she actually tried to climb 
my leader to get at me." He got the mink. 
Breaking Camp. 
There is too much sadness in breaking a camp of this 
sort to dwell on it. It was here that we men learned 
to know each other as we could not in any other walk in 
life; and in this case this knowledge brought no regrets, 
an exception, I fear, not the rule. I like to pass on here 
and take up life again in the office of Mr. John H. P. 
Hughart in Grand Rapids, where I listened to his descrip- 
tion of the trout Mrs. Hughart and he had taken from 
the same waters while the care of a railroad fell from 
him with the ease of taking off a dusty coat. When later 
at the Peninsular Club I was presented to Col. Croftoii 
Fox and had verified to the ounce Mr. Hughart's catches, 
where Mr. Lockwood's many friends welcomed him back 
from the woods with remarks of his improved appear- 
ance; and later Mrs. Lockwood's dinner, where the de- 
light was shown in his outing that proclaims a single 
purpose in life — life's rarest blessing; and the next day 
when Mrs. Widdicomb's hospitality and welcome made 
me forget a home a thousand- miles away. 
Leaving Grand Rapids was like breaking camp again, 
and I will pass on and out, only adding that the waist- 
band of contentment is strained to the limit. The water- 
melon has been eaten. T. E. Batten. 
Potomac Anglers in the Muskokas. 
Washington, D. C. — When we began our preparation.; 
for a trip to this famous region, naturally our first im • 
pulse was to cast about for such literature as would guide 
us to the fishing and suggest the tackle necessary. 
The bookstalls and Congressional Library afforded lit- 
tle that we could find, and even the periodicals for a score 
of years yielded hardly anything of practical value. 
Friends in New York and Toronto were written hurry 
calls for information, but in the end railroad folders were 
nearly all that could be found bearing on the subject, and 
these cover a territory rather than a lake, and their pic- 
tures are of record catches on lucky days, without telling 
how they were made. 
Michie & Co., of Toronto, who furnish tourists with 
anything from a motor launch to a box of candy, were 
kind enough to write of the fishing, but we had not been 
explicit enough in telling of our destination, and their 
advice was principally of waters beyond our route. From 
their note, however, arose our first suspicion that the ex- 
travagant ideas we had entertained that all Canadian 
waters were alive with trout jumping for flies the livelong 
day might require modification. We found they did, and 
if this little screed will give some angler who expects to 
go up there healthier notions of actual conditions than we 
had, it will have served its purpose. 
Our fishing on the Potomac has been almost entirely 
with surface lures, fly-spoon or bait-casting, and with 
the notoriously gamy fish of northern waters we hoped 
with our tackle to make new records of delight. We took 
fly-rods light and heavy, in lancewood, bethabara, and 
bamboo, and we took a-plenty, expecting to break them 
qn the big feUoyrs we were sure wfere waiting for ysj with 
