104 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Sept, a, 1905, 
“got licked” just now — anything, if you could only be 
out of doors where you belong. 
In the midst of these vain longings, the boy across 
the room catches your eye and immediately holds up 
the fatal two fingers. The bargain is made then and 
there. What matter if the Power with authority vested 
in himself over your individual person has commanded 
you to come straight home from school, and perform 
some menial task, like weeding the garden or some 
such thing? The swimming hole is calling you with 
all its Siren voices. 
The school room now becomes an institution es- 
pecially devised for the torture of all those who would 
swim, and when the reluctant hands of the clock at last 
announce your freedom, you can hardly restrain a shout 
of joy. The mandate of the Power has no weight with 
you now, and you seek the swimming pool by a 
devious route to avoid detection. With the first plunge 
in the water the cares of the day are washed away and 
forgotten, and happiness reigns supreme. 
And in the evening, just at supper time, when you 
return and would fain efface yourself, and avoid un- 
welcome attentions from the family circle, but without 
success, what do you care after it is all over? You 
had your fun, and the aftermath can be considered in- 
versely in the nature of a quid pro quo. 
The “crick” or inlet that flowed into the pond pos- 
sessed swimming features not to be overlooked. There 
was a bend in the stream which appealed to us strongly. 
Why, is another question. We had to walk a long way 
to get to it, but once there we were satisfied. It 
abounded in blood-suckers, and mud turtles were not 
unknown. There was not much room in which to 
disport oneself, and we alwaj's came out of it dirtier 
than we went in. I fail to remember what its attrac- 
tion was unless it was the dirt, but at times we pre- 
ferred it to all other swimming holes. It was the 
innocent cause of many a misunderstanding between the 
Powers and ourselves. 
There always came a season of the year when certain 
fishermen wanted live bait for lake fishing. At such a 
time they would approach us with fair sounding words 
and the air of philanthropists, and engage us to supply 
them with minnows at the munificent sum of one-half 
a cent a piece. Enough minnows at half a cent a piece 
will make a man wealthy, and naturally we always 
figured “enough” as the limit to the number we pro- 
posed to catch. 
Hopefully would we sally forth the next morning. 
Hopefully would we spend all of the wealth-to-come be- 
fore we reached the fishing grounds. Patiently would 
we toil all day long, lugging the pails that grew heavier 
and heavier as the hours slipped b}^, and what would 
be our reward? After fishing like Isaac for three days, 
if we caught a hundred minnows we were in luck. That 
meant 16 2/3 cents apiece for the three of us. 
The recollection of this enterprise— for strange to say 
it was of frequent occurrence — is very painful to me, 
because it shows a sad lack of judgment on our part. 
Why, w'e could earn half a cent a shoo for brushing 
flies from the horses at the blacksmith shop, and the 
work was easy and instructive, not to mention per- 
quisites in the form of horse-shoe nails and such things. 
Surely we should not have allowed ourselves to be led 
astray by this dream of riches the fishermen created 
for our undoing. Vanity of vanities! What need had 
we of wealth with only a small portion of our own 
vast kingdom as yet explored. 
Did we ever explore all of our kingdom? No, we 
never did. Such kingdoms are never fully explored. 
It would take much longer than the oolden days allotted 
to us in childhood to discover more than a tithe of 
our possessions. It is only when the golden days have 
fled that we realize, with a sigh, all the good things that 
were ours which we failed to garner in. But the old 
mill pond yielded much treasure trove to us, and the 
half can never be told of all its possibilities. Probably, 
nay, assuredly I should lose my bearings if I went 
back there now and attempted to live the joyous past 
anew, or even to discover one of our many beautiful 
ships that sailed our untroubled seas. I have forgotten 
how. We all forget, more’s the pity. 
Like voices in a dream come the echoes of those days 
when all life was very real to us, and when faith in all 
things was our sacred creed. Blessed is the man that 
has saved one link from the broken chain of years to 
connect him with that good time, for it may serve him 
as an open Sesame to a half forgotten world where 
even an old mill pond may become a mighty ocean, and 
a dead leaf on the water a white-winged shallop ready 
to bear him wither-so-ever his heart desires. 
Fayette Duelin. 
Susquehanna Bass Fishing* 
Sayre, Pa., Aug. 25. — Bass fishing on the Susquehanna 
River at all points where bass are usually taken has been 
excellent of late, and many fine creels of black, and the 
locally known yellow bass, have been taken. At Union 
Springs, on Cayuga Lake, I hear black bass are being 
caught in goodly numbers. In fact, the bass fishermen 
are now enjoying a fine harvest of sport, with a promise 
of good fishing to continue for some weeks to come. 
M, Chill. 
"A Flying Trip ” 
Ossining, N. Y., Aug. 2$.— Editor Forest and Stream: 
-In the little article printed this week under the heading, 
“A Flying Trip,” sorhe one has changed the distance 
from Daytona to Ponce Park from 14 to 64 miles. A 
trip of 64 miles in a small launch in less than , two hours 
; would be a flying trip, indeed. Chas. G. Blandford. 
Genesis of the Ouananiche. 
Sussex, N. B., Aug. 20. — Mr. Chambers’ paper in issue 
of iQth inst. on “The Genesis of the Ouananiche” is an 
excellent one, and I am quite in accord with his opinions. 
It contains much valuable information. 
^W. H. Venning. 
THE MANY-USE OIL 
Oils gun locks, revolvers and reels. Just rigM.—Adv. 
Newfoundland Notes. 
Since last writing, your correspondent has been along 
the whole length of the railway line from end to end, 
and has seen some angling and anglers. The number 
of American visitors is increasing each year; the present 
season has been a record one up to date. The visitors 
included all kinds and classes, from the Hon. Elihu 
Root, Secretary of State, to the young angler with_ his 
brand new “dux-back” outfit, bent on for the first time. 
It is really surprising the numbers who came along 
this season. Twenty anglers got off at one station, the 
day 1 was coming through. At another station six or 
seven American gentlemen got on to run seven miles to 
a salmon pool along the line, and there were three tirnes 
as many ladies and children on the little station seeing 
them off. The ladies and children were all brown and 
bareheaded, and seemed to be in the ruddiest health and 
the highest spirits. The fun and the banter and the 
various injunctions from car to station, and vice versa, 
enlivened the whole train, and when the mighty hunters 
got aboard the train, willing hands were stretched out 
to take their traps and duffle upon the brakes, where 
they rode till they came to their salmon pool. 
Secretary Root, and his two sons, and Col. Sanger 
spent several days among the salmon pools and got 
good sport. 
Numbers of other professional men from various parts 
of the United States fished at different places along 
the line. 
We stopped off at Nardini’s for a couple of days, and 
while there Peter Benoit, the guide, came down with 
twenty-one salmon and grilse as the result of a day and 
night’s fishing. Next day I went up for a couple of 
hours with Peter, but as I had to catch a train, I was 
in a hurry and did not get up to the best pools. We 
succeeded though in getting seven grilse and salmon, 
and had a good morning’s sport. 
Our next stop was at Bay of Islands. Here we met 
several parties, who were outfitting for a trip along the 
line. Among others were Mr. and Mrs. P., of Lake- 
ville, Conn., and Capt. G., C. I. V., England. We spent 
a very pleasant day with the former, and were present 
with them at a very interesting luncheon on Wood’s 
Island, and regretted very much when the time for 
parting came. They camped up on Sand Lake River, 
and enjoyed the sport. Capt. G. was a veritable nimrod. 
He had shot and fished in nearly every part of the 
world^ — killed a bigger elephant than Selous in Africa, 
was familiar with Norway, and had shot wapiti and 
mountain sheep in the United States. Like a good 
Englishman, he held up his end in the Boer war, and, 
judging from his height and muscle, hardened by in- 
cessant outdoor exercise, must have proved a tough 
proposition to many a guileless South Africander. His 
prowess as a hunter was only equalled by his modesty, 
and your correspondent is indebted to a gentleman who 
knew him very well, for these and other particulars. 
We took the Reid, N. F., coastal boat Glencoe and 
went down the shore. Among the passengers were two 
parties of American ladies and gentlemen. They were 
delighted with the trip. The running into the different 
little sea ports, the variety and beauty of the scenery, 
supplied interesting subjects for conversation, and for 
the large number of cameras that were brought into 
requisition. ' 
A trip on one of these coastal boats is a great treat. 
The little ships are well fitted, with all modern marine 
improvements; the service is up-to-date, and the officials 
are courteous. For anyone wanting a sea trip in 
smooth water, with any amount of variety, a run along 
the coast in one of those little steamers leaves nothing 
to be desired. 
We camped for ten days on one of the best salmon 
and sea trout pools in Newfoundland. This pool has 
the great advantage of not being easily accessible to 
the ordinary angler out for a day or two, so we had 
the exclusive use of it just the same as if we were pro- 
prietors. We left the ship and were rowed seven miles 
up the north arm and then tramped four miles up to 
the pool and pitched our camp in an ideal spot. We 
were early for the sea trout, and got only a fair catch, 
and we were just a little late for the salmon. We 
should have gone some miles further up stream to 
get them. Nevertheless, the first morning’s fishing in 
the upper pool resulted in my hooking a gamey nine- 
pounder. I had forgotten my net and was_ by myself 
with a shelving bank and no beach to land him. I held 
him for thirty-five minutes and the only thing that 
troubled was that when I got back to the camp without 
him, I’d be . greeted with the usual incredulous smile. 
This spurred me to extra care, and eventually I killed 
my little fish and got him in a fissure of the rock and 
landed him. Within the next hour I landed, with the 
assistance of the guide, four other salmon and grilse 
ranging from 3^4 to S pounds — one fellow particularly, 
a 4h2-pounder, gave me nearly the best sport I had 
ever enjoyed. He went over the whole pool, and 
jumped ten or twelve times, and nearly exhausted the 
line on my reel. After that the weather got bright and 
clear, and the fish sluggish. We used to watch them 
lying in the pool, and tried in vain all the flies in the 
book. Hurled across their very noses they would not 
look at them. However, we used to get a few at early 
morn and dewy eve, and this kept us in good spirits. 
Just before we broke camp it rained some, and the first 
large installment of sea trout arrived. We had good 
fisfflng the last evening we were there, and if we had 
been ten days later, instead of earlier, we would have 
all the fishing we wanted. My share of the spoils was a 
large firkin of preserved salmon, grilse and sea trout. 
But if I had not caught a single fish, I would still 
have enjoyed the outing. It is an ideal place to camp, 
and we were fitted up like a modern hotel. The sur- 
roundings are beautiful, and we were in the center of 
the caribou country. The deer in winter are there in 
thousands, and a hunter camped where we were, could 
get his choice of heads or he could get easily the most 
unique photograph in America. The thought that 
struck me was that it was an ideal place for the erec- 
tion of a clubhouse, and as the gentleman who accom- 
panied me is the proprietor of 100 acres, in fact, the only 
timber land near the pool, and as he is desirous of dis- 
posing of it, I would not be surprised if some reader 
of Forest and Stream in the very near future, had a 
log-cabin hunting lodge here for the very best shooting 
and fishing on the island. It is one of the very few 
places left — that is, not overrun with the ordinary 
anglers whO' spend only three or four days on a pool 
and whip it to death. 
The reports from other parts showed that the fishing 
was good. Mr. W. Warren and two other gentlemen 
fishing on the Humber caught seventy-seven salmon, 
the largest weighing 13 pounds. They saw hundreds 
leaping the falls. There were ten rods fishing there, 
and at times they’d all be hauling fish together. 
Mr. F. I. Morris, with two others, caught 160 pounds 
of sea trout at Placentia, and had great sport. Mr. J. 
Rooney and another caught fifty-three salmon at 
Salmonier, and reported several other parties equally 
well fished. 
I append two extracts from late local papers, which 
are self-explanatory — dozens of other clippings at hand 
repeat the same tale: 
“Capt. Gillett, who is on the west coast fishing, landed 
a salmon weighing 25^4 pounds at the Dumping Pool, 
Harry’s Brook. He is charmed with the sport he has 
had and purposes sending the fish to London to show 
his friends.” 
This one is from the humorous contributor of the 
Trade Review, which sometimes descends from dis- 
cussing the price of the bag and the barrel and quintal 
of fish, to note other happenings. Incidentally it may 
induce some next year’s June brides to come along this 
way for a 12-pound fish: 
“A breezy correspondent to- a sporting journal (says 
the Fishing Gazette) thus ‘booms’ a popular Maine 
summer resort: ‘A young honeymoon pair came here 
last season fishing, and took a 6 ) 4 -pound grilse. This 
summer they are back again with a little baby of iden- 
tically the same weight as the salmon.’ If it is any in- 
ducement to honeymooners, we can safely say that 12- 
pound fish and ditto babies are more in our line in 
N ewfoundland.^^ 
Grace^s Quarters. 
Baltimore, Md., Aug. 23. — There is a popular idea in 
the minds of most fishermen that the further away from 
home one goes the better fishing ; in fact, many believe 
that it is absolutely impossible to find good fishing of any 
sort within miles of Baltimore, and will therefore put 
themselves to considerable time and expense each year 
journeying away from Maryland waters in search of suit- 
able fishing grounds, which, in all probability, could be 
found within easy reach of their home, did they but 
know it. “But to think of a place is one thing, and to 
know it is another,” said Mr. George Schaaf, president 
and captain of the Moonhouse Social Club. 
Every frequenter of the Gunpowder, roam as much as 
he may, will finally fix on one particular portion of the 
river as his favorite. All do not choose the same local- 
ity, for from a fishing standpoint one place is as good as 
another ; and so in this instance our members are partial 
tO' Grace’s Quarters, where they camp yearly. 
The club was formed several years ago by hard work- 
ing young business men of East Baltimore, who' yearly 
long for this week of their vacation. It is composed of 
the following members : Mr. George Schaaf, president 
and captain, and the Executive Committee of Messrs. 
George Fink, William Fehle, William Frostburg, Harry 
Miskimon, George Hannauer. Edward Eisenhut, William 
Eisenhut, George Zang, F. Quaty, William Gaffey, John 
S. Gittings, V. Gallenz and John Forster. They are all 
there, and we have “slathers” of fish when the river is in 
condition ; it’s real sport, yet fish are funny critters, and 
have their off days for biting. 
“When they will, they will, 
You may depend on ’t; 
And when they won’t, they won’t, 
And that’s the end of it.’’ 
Grace’s Quarters, Md., was the home of the late presi- 
dent of the Pennsylvania Railroad. It is beautifully lo- 
cated and admirably laid off, being within a short drive 
of Chase’s Station, on the P., W. & B. R. R., over roads 
that have a strange mixture of luxury and wildness. The 
writer had the pleasure of visiting the shore. It was an 
ideal day, when the crisp morning air sets the blood a- 
tingle and the dewy cobwebs flash like diamonds in the 
rising sun, the purple haze haloes the distance and the 
walk more than repays for the labor expended, the stride 
is longer and more tireless, the appetite keener for it 
amid such picturesque .'cen.ery, which is one of the pecu- 
liar attractions of the place ; and the greeting and the 
good time I had were a combination hard to beat. 
The boys were out amid their native surroundings, and 
there was excellent fishing that day, the catch comprising 
white and yellow perch, rock or striped bass, jack tailors, 
young bluefish, bullheads or catties, eels and soft and 
hardshell crabs. They have a well built cabin, with a 
central building of unique construction used for a dining 
room. The culinary department — presided over by a 
genial “South befo’ de war” darkey, James Chew, a." 
rugged a bit of human timber as one can find in a month 
of travel. To hear old Jim spin a yarn of Massa Thomp- 
son killing ducks and catching fish is to get a taste of 
something not yet reduced to print. He is an expert in 
such matters as cornpone, Maryland beaten biscuits, fish, 
soft crabs and chicken suppers that are a delight to critic 
and epicure. 
The glorious sunset as we saw it, transforming the 
trees and water courses, was a glowing panorama until 
it faded away. One cannot afford to miss becoming ac- 
quainted with the versatile manager, Mr. Joseph New- 
kirk. He serves to make the visitor forget that he is a 
guest, he is one of those men one occasionally meets in 
position of large responsibility, a thorough sportsman 
with both rod and gun, one whO' seems neither inflated 
by his success nor harassed by his many cares. 
Grace’s Quarters has offered hospitality to a great 
many different anglers and a most enjoyable fellowship 
pervades the angling camp. Quiet refinement is the key- 
note of this quaint, complete country home, and after a 
visit of even brief duration one fully understands why 
the members and guests return year after year. 
“It’.s a jolly old life for a w-eek or two, 
With a bunch of good fellows and nothing to do.” 
John T. Higgins. 
