283 
Sept: 1 6, 1905.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
"1 routing in Ontario. 
Sea Gull, Ontario, Can., September, 1905. — The 
gentle art is a very old theme, coming- to us from a 
date we little dream of. ^lianus has clearly demon- 
strated that fly-fishing was practiced in a rude way 
upward of fifteen hundred years ago. In England, 
thirteen centuries later. Dame Juliana Berners was the 
first to teach that angling inculcated patience and good 
will. But by far the most attractive treatise on the 
science, previous to Walton’s, if indeed it is not the 
equal of the “Complete Angler,” is the poetical idyl 
entitled “The Secrets of Angling,” by John Dennys, of 
which four editions were printed between 1613 and 
1632. The possessor of a still more rustic touch than 
Gay, and reeling off his piscatory fancies at far greater 
length than either Gay or Thompson, he is the Spenser 
of the water side, and has been justly termed the laureate 
of the craft. From his smoothly-flowing lines one may 
become familiar with all the secrets of the sport as it 
existed then, and find in him the bond par excellence 
of the joys of running brooks. 
The poetic and thrilling sport of the angler is now 
sung throughout the entire land, and in such stately 
and graceful manner as to command the admiration of 
every lover of the pliant rod and singing reel. What 
more tender and beautiful piscatorial character is drawn 
than that of Kit North, the author of “Noctes Am- 
brosianae,” when he was a helpless invalid. His devoted 
daughter limned the charming picture, and it is a gem 
that should always endure. It thus sings its way into 
your heart: 
“And then he gathered around him, when the spring 
morning brought joy jets of sunshine into the little 
room where he lay, the relics of a youthful passion, one 
that with him never grew old. It was an affecting sight 
to see him busy, nay quite absorbed, with the fishing 
tackle. about his bed, propped up with pillows, his noble 
head, yet glorious with its flowing locks, carefully 
combed by attentive hands, and falling on each side of 
his unfaded face. How neatly he picked out each ele- 
gantly-dressed fly from its little bunch, drawing it with 
trembling hands across the white coverlet, and then 
replacing it in his pocketbook, he would tell, ever and 
anon, of the stream he used to fish in of old, and of 
the deeds performed in his youth.” 
If any student of nature, or lover of the contempla- 
tive man’s recreation, after realizing on the above, is 
now alive to the delicious tenderness and mild, soothing 
peace that hangs over the most delicate and most ex- 
quisite romance, I will endeavor to enlist his earnest 
attention to my piscatorial pursuit of the loveliest and 
most game fish that cleaves the mountain or valley 
stream. It is unquestionably the purest and most price- 
less gem of life that earth can show. No bird can 
compare with it, though some may surpass it in intensity 
of color, but none in beauty. Nowhere is there such 
another condensation of equal energy and quickness 
in equal compass. He is evidently sui generes. 
This elevating recreation, the impassioned luxury and 
elixir of perpetual youth, of which the idolized beauty 
with resplendent stripes of orange and blazing stars 
is the crown jewel, I recently enjoyed along the serrated 
shores of a picturesque and poetic brook some eight 
miles from “The Rainsmere” at Sea Gull, Ontario, 
Its pelucid waters ran and rippled in graceful curvatures 
and fanciful wanderings, like a soulful rhythm of ex- 
quisite melody, 
"By many a fiel t anJ fallow 
And many a foreland set 
With willow, weed and mallow.” 
I intuitively knew what patient toil lay in wait for me, 
and what rare fascinations would delight both vision 
and heart in thus practically exemplifying the gentle 
art. Dense and shadowy woodlands where the blue 
sky is shut out and the grasshoppers’ drone is faint and 
where tangled thicket and savage slashings had to be 
confronted and conquered, while the open fields, bathed 
in sunshine and dotted with wild flowers and alive with 
satin-winged butterflies and silver-throated warblers, 
would compensate me for all toil and loss of vigor in 
so earnestly seeking the finny spoils. 
I was advised long before starting that the alluring 
fly would cut no figure on the stream, but that the 
ophidian of the moist earth would be the tempting tid- 
bit that would delight the dainty palate of the gallant 
knight of the spangled jacket, so emphatically the 
sportsman’s , idol of the crystal pool and the epicure’s 
dainty dish. ; Glorious were the traveling joys in pros- 
pect for me; but as I had had much experience with 
the trickling trout stream, I was ever ready to dis- 
count at a big figure the luxurious lay-out of roseate 
paths and golden victims. 
My-guide, whose- baptismal name was Albert, who was 
to convey me to this paradise, was an adolescent of 
some fifteen years, and he also sweetly sang the praises 
of the far away troutland as if he were an idylist of 
wild-wood life and shared the secrets of nature. He, 
presented himself with all the dash of a .-cossack and a 
most familiar air that savored somewhat of deviltry and 
wildness. His adjuncts were an aged roadster that 
undoubtedly would not be taken for the winged beas't 
of the Apocalypse and a demoralized and creaky buggy 
of a by-gone period, in which I was to luxuriate as I 
realized on the meadows and the fields, together with 
their flora and fauna. Our route was over a dusty 
roadway that ran as straight as a fleeting arrow before 
many vine-covered cottages and a few ornate dwellings 
of more pretentions that presented a charming air in 
their ample and lovely flower gardens that were really 
a. joy forever and a day. The morning was a pure dc'- 
Jight with a sQft breeze, the gentle W§rfPrth, of a passing 
caress that set the leaves to whispering and the yellow 
flags in the ditches to nodding, while the dome above 
was serenely azure and fleckless. 
Cattle and sheep, horses and hogs, geese and turkeys, 
with cawing crows on wing, and a hawk with a sun- 
burnt breast on a fence rail, and other loitering occu- 
pants that gave animation and diversity to the scene 
lined the road and protestingly proclaimed in their 
dumb and dead language against disturbance by our 
wild steed of Arab breed. They were evidently of a 
fraternal spirit, but our youthful generalissimo, who 
was full of expedients, gave them to emphatically under- 
stand that they could not have the privilege of the 
double parlor or the front steps, or even crowd his 
Bucephalus out of his usual line, for a severe cut of 
the whip lash impressively taught them the ethics of 
the road. There was little of the picturesque along the 
drive, but you could see, if your vision was not im- 
paired. the goldenrod and the wild carrot, the vervain 
and the tansey all erect on their slender stalks, as if to 
give greeting to admiring eyes. Butterflies with silken 
and velvet wings fluttered in clouds, hummingbirds in 
exquisite colors of blue and pink and citrine hurriedly 
kissed the dainty wild flowers, while a thrush, and a 
hermit_ one, sang sweetly in the shady brush. Such 
animation of nature’s subjects was ever a delight; but 
my guide did not take to natural history with the eager- 
ness of a student, for he was either whistling or hum- 
ming, or artfully taking a feather with his whip out 
of some indolent and gapping goose, or making a 
beauty spot on . some “purple cow” that exhibited a 
strong desire to block the road. I cliided him for his 
unreal sportiveness, but he replied quite naively that 
“The mail must not be delayed.” 
“You must temper the wind to the shorn lamb,” I 
responded. 
“Haven’t touched a lamb.” 
I then had my smile, and it somewhat mystified him; 
but he still slashed right and left and sang and whistled, 
but his reverence for Mary’s little lamb was supreme. 
We had now gone about four- miles and came to 
our first brook, which ran like a silver ribbon about 
half a mile along the public road and then fairly lost 
itself under and within a riotous tangle of criss-crossing 
logs, snarled vines and spreading vegetation of every 
sort. During the few opening days of the season some 
generous catches are here made' of the spotted dudes, 
and thus another realism of the early bird and worm 
is wove into nature’s volume. 
The ambitious knight of the whip, like a Hannibal 
in battle, sped his racer along the rough and rutty 
road with the cool air laden with the fragrance of pine 
gently blowing in our faces, as if he were in great 
haste to open the crusade against the tattooed tribe. 
The remaining four miles were soon gone over, and then 
we halted and stabled the perspiring steed in a barn 
nearby, with his manger well filled with 'new-mown hay 
and instructions given for watering the weary piece 
of horse flesh during our absence. The brook upon 
which the slaughter of innocents was to commence 
was at our very feet, and as we took in the introductory 
part of it we realized every thing but its extolled loveli- 
ness, but were confident and comforted with the idea 
that when we had left the old mill behind, where we had 
halted, that new delights, where roses and lillies bloomed 
and big sunflowers turned with the sun, would .gratify 
and please beyond measure. My rod, a tough and 
very pliable bamboo, was soon in readiness, as also 
that of my attentive attendant. As the stream was 
entirely too brushy and snaggy to admit of using a 
tempting fly, which would permit the highest develop- 
ment of the gentle art, we each filled our bait box with 
worms, and after belting it around our anatomy where 
the vest terminates, we started through a net work of 
shadows, through which a partridge occasionally flut- 
tered, and began to ruthlessly tramp down with our 
heavy boots the dainty wild flowers and delicate ferns 
that made fragrant and fascinating our untrodden patlp 
and which at any other tim'e would have been idolized 
as precious floral treasure trove. We, by agreement, 
took divergent paths, and then when either of us struck 
an inviting pool, where the coveted red fins poised, we 
had undivided pleasure. Sig;hting an intensely blue- 
crested and defiant-looking kingfisher that was eyeing 
the stream below from a dead limb of a once spreading 
and majestic oak, I was positive from the presence of 
this fish-loving bird that the spangled beauty was in 
statuesque poise in some pool nearby. 
The idylic stream that “sparkled out-among the fern” 
gently tinkled by a tangle of drift and just the habitat 
for the princeling of the purling brook. Here some ten ■ 
ebrous thickets and dense . alder brushes cast a grateful 
shade near where the deeper part of the pool shone up 
and where a few twittering birds gave animation to the 
inspiring scene, as well as. additional beauty to the 
basin of the dotted delights, which on such a glorious 
morn would make a poet rhapsodize or a painter go into 
ecstacies. I concluded after carefully approaching the 
nearby sunny ripples a trifle below their silver flashes 
to proffer the illusive banquet with the concealed thorn 
It quietly struck the rippling surface when I sent it on 
its deceptive mission, and scarcely had it sunk a foot 
or two before it was snapped up by some hungry knight 
of the tribe beautiful. The bite was very sudden and 
savage, the response quick and gentle, and then for a 
brief time there was an earnest struggle for supremacy' 
and, as usual, the foeman with pliant wand and singing 
reel overcame the spotted and rose-tinted denizen of 
the crystal pool who proved the first victim of the 
morning’s tragedy. He slowly and sadly ebbed his 
precious life away on the glittering sands of the rnean^ 
derinst brool? was a y?ry respectable repr^septative 
of the gameful tribe, as his weight came near being 
a pound, and I assure you a large one indeed for the 
small stream from which it was taken. No sooner was 
it laid away in shade and leafage before I heard a 
loud shout from the little ranger of ferny lanes and 
thicket avenues, that it was manifest that he had either 
captured a big victim or made a victim of himself by 
stumbling into the icy water. The dashing youth I 
thought too^ active for immersion, and thence I did 
not think it necessary to unduly alarm the ruby- 
throated warblers, or scare up a bogie, in striving to 
solve the problem of the echoing shout. It would 
assuredly explain itself soon enough, when a Robin 
Hood raid on the lunch basket came. 
Again I strove for another dandy of the dots as the 
continued presence of the persistent kingfisher was 
evidence of more maculated trophies. The response to 
my tempting menu was quickly telephoned and another 
but smaller one was consigned to the creel as a close 
companion to the one already laid away in honored 
sepulture. This was indeed encouraging, and to make 
complete the piscatorial record of the generous pool, I 
will briefly record that five more scarlet-robed divinities 
worthy an epic writer’s pen were rapidly consigned to 
the tomb of the red-coated fontinalis. The wand of 
Walton was evidently in hand, and nature in addition 
was showing the eye-pleasing beauty of foliage and 
flowers and the subtle charm of the rippling little stream 
as if it ran between banks of pearl and emerald. The 
vernal musicians, so numerous here, seemed to vie with 
one another in concert, while the flashing tints of the 
sunbeams painted each separate wild rose a different 
tint and each fern a different shade, while every single 
sceptre of grass had its diamond drop at the end of it. 
Under such a flood of music and enchantment and 
ladiance the gentle art was being most happily ex- 
emplified by many a delightful interview with the game- 
ful warriors of mottled sides and shapely mold. It was 
not all serenely glowing, for I frequently had to breast 
and beat my way through briers and brambles and many 
a slashing and tangled thick-et, and only reached the 
rippling stream that babbled into eddying pools after 
much strenuous toil and physical exhaustion. Then 
when comfortably seated by some cool and babbling 
spring that was creeping into the tuneful brook, where 
I^ realized the fragrance of peace and contentment as 
if distilled from some golden censor, did I soulfully 
enjoy .sweet converse with nature, who so grandly 
frescoes the great dome of the heaven with sunsets and 
the lovely forms of clouds and flying vapors. 
I had taken quite a number of the idolized beauties 
while quietly treading the wandering brook, and at 
infrequent intervals when not a glimmer of sunshine 
was to be seen, and then where the radiance of the orb 
w^as freely falling through barred limbs with the limping 
water disclosing radiating bars of silver as it moved 
“the sweet forget-me-nots for happy lovers.” ITere the 
trout freely leaped for the myriad insects, and the 
beetles in their steel blue mail skimmed o’er the sur- 
face_ with surpassing swiftness and dainty lightness, all 
uniting in forming a wild and vernal picture of intense 
beauty and_ repose, where the carpet of lichens and 
moss that riotously r.'ns to decay are of such wonderful 
beauty and softness which invariably gives' that soulful 
impressiveness to the scene which exalts to grandeur 
and sublimity. It was really a pleasant paradise of 
solitude and solace. 
“Ever plea,sing, ever ne-w, 
When will the landscape tire the view.” 
The sun was now blazing hot. and as I had toiled hard, 
my appetite was as keen as a woodchopper’s and crying 
out for appeasement. Taking up my creel of sunset 
trophies, which was about half full, I commenced a 
hasty advance for that particular lunch basket, where 
both I and my youthful guide were to meet at an ap- 
pointed hour. I first made my advent, as I had rapidly 
forged through the stubborn obstacles which every 
dense forest '. naturally presents, but when the little 
premier of. rodcraft made' his entree soon after he 
was a pitiful sight to behold. His face and hands and 
clothes were completely briar-torn, but the radiance 
of his countenance and the fire of his eye told a tale 
of triumph and felicity. No sooner had he reached my 
side than he impatiently began to interrogate me as to 
my catch. I desired him to restrain his impetuosity 
until he had taken lunch and then I would give him 
the mathematics of my morning’s sport. 
My little diplomatic cicerone impressed me with the 
idea that he had already won the iron cross in the 
angle that morning, and was therefore eager for the 
insignia. The raggedy, tattered and torn aspirant for 
honors in the guilt-edge guild was ravishingly hungry, 
and as a consequence the inviting lunch soon took on a 
reductive form, much like the rapid melting o-f a snow 
bank under a meridian sun. As the last crumb of the 
toothsome edibles gave mitigation to his rejoicing 
salivaries he opened his well-worn basket and emptied 
his glittering victims — the rodster’s cruel spoils — on the 
green sward, where the effulgent sun, which then pre- 
vailed, made them glitter like the precious jewels of a 
queen’s tiara, which, to him just then, were far more 
precious than a pinkish pearl, or a lavender Iflac from 
the enchanted gardens. His nimble fingers soon had the 
numerals, but, “ye gods and little fishes,” the best half 
of them were fingerlings and came under the ban of 
the law. Pointing to those I had selected' as illegal, 
I told him “they are not to be counted as being in the 
swim, as they simply will have to be discarded and 
dishonored,” 
“Oh, my! they are all, right and the choicest of the 
lot for th^ t^blg, fpr you can eat them head, |ai| 
