FOREST AND STREAM 
[[July 16, 1904. 
that he attributed the decrease in the catch to ihe hatch- 
ing houses, although he has indubitable facts in his pos- 
session which, in some cases, point very straight to this 
conclusion. Dunk River furnishes some of these facts, 
and Grand Lake Stream in Maine others, to which I 
would direct Mr. Samuels' special attention. The writer's 
contention has been that if half the expenditure the hatch- 
ing houses have entailed had been devoted to the reduc- 
tion of excessive fishing, longer close time, and careful 
protection of the fish on the spawning grounds, better 
results would now be visible than any the hatcheries have 
produced. 
Against Mr. Samuels' negative argument above, which 
the context shows was drawn principally from hearsay, 
not from his own knowledge, The Old Angler would state 
the following facts: Under his personal direction "eyed 
ova" from the Restigouche house have been transferred 
to the Miramichi and St. John houses, there hatched and 
planted in these rivers ; but never has a Restigouche grilse 
or salmon been caught in either. Under his personal 
direction salmon fry from the Restigouche house were, 
for several seasons in succession, planted in the Nepes- 
siguit, but never has a Restigouche fish been taken from 
its waters. Under his personal direction salmon fry from 
the Miramichi house have been planted in the Richibucto 
and Shediac rivers, but a Miramichi salmon has never 
been caught in either. Under his* direction have salmon 
fry from the St. John house been planted in Skiff Lake 
in Canterbury, but never has a Salmo salar been caught 
in its waters, though landlocked salmon (ouananiche) 
are plentiful there. Under his personal direction ova 
from River Philip in Nova Scotia were transported to the 
Miramichi house, hatched there, and planted in the North- 
west Branch, but a River Philip salmon has never been 
caught in Miramichi waters. Since his retirement from 
the fisheries service, planting salmon from the various 
hatching houses has gone steadily on, but no evidence of 
any practical results can be found after careful inquiry 
among the fishing officers of the Province. 
I commend the consideration of these facts to Mr. 
Samuels and to all who are interested in the question. If 
he or any reader of this letter can produce facts that tell 
a different story, no one will be more pleased to read 
them than The Old Angler. 
Playing a Musky to the Gallery. 
It was at Wrenan's Lake, up near the Leach _ Lake 
Reservation. The day was already spent, the sun sinking 
in a sea of golden glory, leaving'the lake now to revel in 
a mass of blues and purples that come with the twilight 
in this northern country. The day had been so calm that 
luck proved poor, and all the boats were in and the ladies 
and gentlemen, to the number of twenty-five, were in the 
camp dining room at their supper. 
Around the bend (without the accompaniment of iron- 
shod canoe-poles) came Mr. G. and his son, Walter the 
guide propelling the boat slowly along the deep water off- 
shore. They had thrown out their heavy spoons, hoping 
against hope of a musky. Within a hundred yards of the 
landing stage, the unexpected happened, a maskinonge that 
weighed, when landed, 29 pounds, and measured a good 
4 feet, struck the spoon of the elder Mr. G. Away went 
the fish for deep water, striking a high C on the reel and 
keeping it up for a run of fifty feet or more, only to come 
to the surface and fly into the air like a catapult With 
a splash that sent the flying water in a wide circle, it 
took an extended run straight in line for the landing- 
stage. This was a fortunate omen, for this was a fish that 
would dodge the gaff and needed a rifle ball to prepare 
him for safe landing. To the right and left, now deep 
down, now out of the water, the monster fish made his 
play. Mr. G. was not over certain of his tackle, and at 
the first signs of the fish remaining still in the water and 
submitting to being towed, instead of performing that 
office himself, Walter began to work the boat toward the 
landing stage, and sent up' a shout for "Help ! A rifle ! 
that brought every diner from the table, some with nap- 
kins tucked in their necks and others carrying them 
trailing in their hands. The cry of "help" portended 
nothing less than a drowning accident, and naturally the 
tables were instantly deserted. 
The landing stage was at once a rendezvous for a chat- 
tering, excited group of men and women, their presence 
starting the nervous fish to fresh attempts at freedom. 
Up he went into the air, and from a dozen throats came 
as many different kinds' of volunteered advice as to the 
proper thing to do. And amid the din and confusion 
Walter yelled, "Won't someone get a rifle?" Now, Mr. 
G. naturally was more or less concerned as to landing the 
fish, land with a group of guides on the landing stage 
watching every move, Walter was on his mettle. So far 
all had gone well, and the fish was well in hand, and by 
the time the man with the gun had arrived it was once 
more quiet. The man who handled the rifle became at 
once violently attacked by the maskinonge fever. The first 
shot barked the skin off the maskinonge's nose, and set him 
going once more. He leaped and dived in a staccato sort 
of a way, a kind of rag-time fish performance, and the man 
with ! the magazine full of shells began to pump: Pie fol- 
lowed the movements of the fish as one would follow a 
blue-wing teal coming down wind, or rather the flight of 
an English snipe, and considering that the maskinonge 
was on one side of the boat one minute and on the other 
the next, the bullets began to -whiz about Walter's , ears, 
and Mr. G. began to duck. Pandemonium reigned. Those 
on the dock kept shouting advice, the women folks got 
hysterical, and the guides roared with laughter over the 
Wild West piscatorial circus, Walter and Mr. G. Sr. and 
Jf yelling at the top of their voices to the rifleman to let 
up" But he was too. excited to do anything but pump 
that magazine and pull the trigger every time the musky 
Showed his head above water. _ ' ; 
One bullet went through the guides oar and another 
through the bow of the boat, and then Walter commenced 
some choice lumber-jack profanity which, for the sake of 
the ladies, fortunately— on account of the excitement^- 
fell on deaf ears. Mr. G. and his son yelling at the marks- 
man at the top of their voices, .ducked low in the boat, 
Mr. G. Sr. being equally divided in the fear of losing his 
life and the fish at one and the same time. 
It must be remembered that all this happened on the 
Fourth of July, and certainly was giving the guests a 
touch of the noise and bustle of the town carried into the 
forests primeval. A lucky shot— or perhaps to put it bet- 
ter, the musky swam into the zone of fire and caught a 
ball in his head, and forthwith rolled on his side, exposing 
his ivory belly to the gaze of the beholders, and when the 
white_ flag appeared the sharpshooter desisted, and throw- 
ing his hat well back from bis perspiring brow, struck an 
attitude of expectant praise and congratulation ! The 
ladies and gentlemen cheered as Walter now gaffed the 
comatose fish and the guides slapped their thighs and 
roared only as a group of hardy woodsmen can on occa- 
sions. Walter was white as a sheet, and beads of perspira- 
tion stood out on his forehead, for he no doubt felt as one 
who had been through a shrapnel fire, and took a long 
breath to satisfy himself that he was yet sound of body 
and limb and still lived. Mr. G. and his son allowed their 
feelings of exultation to replace those of bodily fear from 
which they had so recently suffered. 
But it was a glorious victory, and with Walter carrying 
the glistening monster upon his back, the procession 
started up the steps to the lawn in front of the camp, 
where the fish was officially and ceremoniously weighed 
and measured. 
And then Walter joined the guides, and the battle was 
fought all over again, and when Mr. G. took his seat at 
the table he. was plied with questions and showered with 
congratulations, Mr. C, the marksman, receiving no small 
part of the attention because of his wonderful marksman- 
ship. 
The fish was expressed to a taxidermist, and in due 
course he replied that it had safely arrived and would be 
mounted in his best possible manner, but as to its being 
a maskinonge — no ! It was neither a pickerel, a great 
northern pike, nor a maskinonge — it was a jack salmon! 
Now won't Mr. Hallock or The Old Angler or Mr. 
Samuels or Dr. Henshall arise and tell us something 
about jack salmon that look like maskinonge — but are not 
maskinonge? Charles CristadorO. 
Sr. Paul, Minn,, July 5. 
L. F. BROWN. 
Newfoundland Notes. 
St. John's, Newfoundland, July 5, 
- — Editor Forest and Stream: 
Many readers of Forest and 
Stream will remember an inter- 
esting discussion on Kipling's 
"Red Gods" which ran through 
several impressions last fall. 
Mr. L. F. Brown, widely known 
to readers of sporting journals 
as a graphic and prolific writer 
of descriptions of the fish and 
fishing haunts of nearly the 
whole continent, started the 
"conflagration" by a criticism of 
. his on Kipling's poem. Your 
correspondent took a hand in 
with the bigger fellows and tried to kill off the plucky 
little bunch of fighters led by the redoubtable L. F. Im- 
agine, my surprise the other day, when, responding to a 
telephone call from the railway depot, I heard : "L. F. 
Brown, you know. You remember the Red Gods discus- 
sion last year in which you took a hand? Well, I'd like 
to shake with you." A few minutes after we were "shak- 
ing." I expected to find a lanky, atrabilious cynic; and 
behold, here was a fat, jovial, big-hearted, good-natured 
looking, fellow, chock full of fun and interesting expe- 
riences, Only for my feelings of loyalty to the gallant 
band led by Mr. M. Hardy and the venerable Old Angler, 
I fear I would have been tempted to forswear my alle- 
giance to Kipling. Mr. Brown talks as interestingly as he 
writes, and my main regret was that his stay was so short. 
He is accompanied by Doctor Doty, of New York, and 
both gentlemen are obeying the behests of the red gods, 
and are now seeking "the chosen waters, where the sea 
trout's jumping crazy for the fly." They left for Sal- 
monier that evening, and as very good reports come from 
there the last few days, it is to be hoped that Mr. Brown 
will get some fish and the doctor some photos, for which 
he is equipped with no less than three cameras of various 
sizes. After they leave Salmonier they intend visiting 
Gambo and Red Indian Lake, and if Forest and Stream' 
does not get some interesting illustrated notes from these 
places at an early date, I am much mistaken. 
I send you herewith a few clippings that may be of in- 
terest to your stay-at-home readers. 
W. J. Carroll. 
Fish and Fishing. 
The Alarming Scarcity of Salmon. 
There is an alarming scarcity of salmon in Canadian 
waters this year. In. only a few of the rivers, so far, has 
there been anything like the usual sport for anglers. ' Mr. 
Adams and Dr. Heber Bishop, of Boston, were fortunate 
in having good sport early in the season on the Moisie, 
but owing to the large volume of water and the numerous 
pools in this river, it is difficult to imagine a scarcity of 
fish there. In many of the smaller streams the fishing has 
almost entirely failed. Particularly has this been the case 
on the Mistassini and the Riviere a la Truite. Last year 
Mr. Charles Stewart Davison, and in former years Dr. 
Henry Van Dyke enjoyed splendid fishing on the latter 
mentioned river. This summer it has dwindtled down 
almost to the dimensions of a brook. The. same thing is 
true of the Mistassini, on the same coast. Mr. Bayard 
Dominick, the New York broker, and his friends, who 
were fishing it, gave it up for a bad job some time ago, 
and left for home in the last week of June. Whether or 
not the fishing would improve with heavy rains sufficient 
to. materially raise the level of the rivers, it is difficult to 
say, though there are those who believe that there must 
yet be a very large though late run of fish. That the 
scarcity of fish is, really the cause of the wretchedly poor 
fishing this season is shown by the fact that the catch of 
the net fishermen has fallen off equally with that of the 
anglers. In many instances it hae been very much less 
than half the catch of last year. Many of the Quebec 
market dealers are quite short of their supply of salmon, 
and prices are at least fifty per ceiat. higher than usual 
at this time of the year. Should there be no later big run 
of fish, we may have to accept the distressing story that 
the salmon of the North Atlantic, in common with other 
forms of fish life^ are really suffering an alarming de- 
crease in numbers as a result of the depredations of the - 
swarms of dogfish which infest the coasts. ■', There is cer- 
tainly good cause for the cry of alarm which comes from 
the fishermen of both the Maine coasts and .those of the 
Maritime Provinces of the Dominion, as to the destructive- 
ness of these pests. 
Something Like the Marston Troot. 
Not many days ago I was shown a very handsome, lot 
of trout that had been taken for specimens of the beauti- 
ful variety named by Professor Garman for Mr. Marston, 
of London, England. There were several dozen fish in the 
lot, averaging from half a pound to three-quarters of a 
pound each in weight. In their long and somewhat nar- 
row shape, and still more in their gorgeous coloring, they 
certainly resembled very closely the Salvelinus oquassa 
marstonii. The deep red splash of coloring along the 
lower part of the body was present, and very much 
brighter than that which adorns the ordinary fontinalis, 
even when attired in his richest livery at the approach of 
the spawning season. But there the resemblance ceased, 
at least so far as outward appearances go. An examina- 
tion of the fin rays showed that they did not correspond 
with the description given by Garman, and moreover the 
caudal fin lacked the distinguishing emarginate character- 
istic of the Marston char. Everybody knows that differ- 
ence of coloring, especially in the salmonidse, does not 
prove a distinct variety. Yet both the shape and coloring 
of these trout were SO' different from those of the ordinary 
fontinalis that I have been wondering since whether they 
may not have belonged to one of the many Alpine varie- 
ties which are undoubtedly represented in Northern 
Canada, and have come to regret that I did not make a 
more careful examination of them when the opportunity 
presented itself. I saw the fish in the depths of the forest, 
too far away from civilization to be able to bring the 
specimens out of the woods in a fresh condition, especially 
in the absence of both ice and alcohol, and the only oppor- 
tunity I had for comparative study of them was a copy of 
-the fin formula of the Marston trout which I carry with 
me when fishing, hoping some time to secure the further 
specimens of the fish which are so. much desired both by 
Mr. Titcomb and Professor Garman. I satisfied myself, 
that the fish were not of this variety, and that was all. I 
am sor^ to say that it did not even occur to me at the 
time to make a memorandum of the fin rays of these 
beautiful fish. They were captured in a small lake not 
far from Lake Eternity, a large body of water forming 
the headwaters of the Eternity River, which in its turn 
flows into the Saguenay at Eternity Bay, between the far- 
famed Capes Trinity and Eternity. These fish would not 
look at the ordinary large trout flies used for speckled 
brook trout in Canadian waters. Mr. D'Aubigne, of Lon- 
don, England, to whose rod they fell, killed them upon 
small brown flies, next size to midgets, tied upon No. 13 
to No. 15 hooks, and with a casting-line that was nearly 
as fine as a gossamer thread. This successful fishing was 
done upon a clear, bright day in the latter part of June, 
when the uneducated trout in the neighboring lakes would 
not look at an ordinary fly, and were only to be taken 
with a troll. May not this experience suggest that success 
awaits the use of smaller flies and the practice of. dry fly- 
fishing in American waters in those midsummer months 
in which the clear chalk streams of Britain are made to 
yield good sport to the dry fly-fishermen of that country? 
E. T. D. Chambers. 
Salmon of the Moisic. 
Friday evening, July i, as Mr. J. B. Goodhue, of Derby 
Lme, : Vt, a genial sportsman, and I were on the cars com- 
ing from the Sherbrooke, Quebec, tournament, we bumped 
up against an old and dear friend I had not seen for 
nearly, if not quite, three decades of years, Dr. Heber 
Bishop, of Boston, the champion American moose hunter., 
and a genial all-around sportsman and good fellow. 
The doctor had with him Mr. Walter Adams, of Boston. 
They were on their way back from a most successful and 
record-breaking salmon fishing trip on the Moisic River 
on the Labrador coast. This river is owned by Mr. Ivers 
W. Adams, of Boston, and is without question. one of the 
best salmon rivers in the -world. The salmon are numer- 
ous, and. rival in size those of the celebrated Cascapedia. 
At the Moisic the doctor was one of a party composed of 
Hon. Ivers W. Adams, Walter Adams, B. F. Dutton, and 
Harry W. Reed, all of Boston, and Senator Aldrich, of 
Rhode Island. They fished the river from June 13 to the 
21st, (eight days, and their total catch was 184 salmon that 
weighed 4,438 pounds, an average of over 341 pounds 
each: Dr. Bishop's individual score was 31 fish that 
weighed 731 pounds; this is truly a record breaker. This 
river empties into the north shore of the Gulf of the St. 
Lawrence, well up north of latitude 50 degrees, and dur- 
ing their stay there the temperature ranged from 28 to 53 
degrees, and the mean temperature of the water in the 
river was 38 degrees. 
While Father Time has silvered the locks of the doctor 
somewhat, his love for fun is as keen as it was over a 
quarter of a century ago.- He had not forgotten many of 
the little sporting incidents that happened during the days 
of our early friendship, nor how we taught him how to 
cast his first fly; neither had he forgotten the airs that my 
then jroung son, now a clergyman, played on the violin ; 
he not , only f whistled them for us, but he added a few 
variations and cadenzas as embellishments. 
He and Mr. Adams had in the express car a box con- 
taining half a dozen fine fish, packed in snow, which they 
found in the ravines near the river. Nothing would do 
but that box must be opened, and one of the salmon— a 
24-pounder — was taken out and presented to Mr. Goodhue 
and myself, with positive instructions to present a good 
slice of it to the "Reverend," who duly received and ap- 
preciated it, remarking that the Lord loved a cheerful 
salmon fisher, and "blessed be the donor, for he - hath 
given much and expected nothing in return." 
There was a certain fish— a 230-pound sturgeon — that 
they did not bring home with them, and "thereby hangs a 
tale." The rope slipped off its tail and it departed with 
the tide, etc. Stanstead. 
Mansonvtli-e, Quebec, j u iy 5. 
