234 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
([Sept. i6, 1905. 
he responded with great surprise at my condemnation 
strictures. 
Not deserving comparison with such tid-bits of de- 
liciousness, I simply uncovered my lovely samples, 
which were reposing on a bed of green leaves in my 
creel, and let him feast his eyes on the golden-finned 
and crimson-stained foiitinalis as if they were as sacred 
as an image in Joss temple and should evoke the same 
idolatrous treatment. He wa3 surprised at their pro- 
portions, and when I told him that I had returned to 
the stream as many more undersized ones, he was still 
greater surprised. By way of an apology for his lack 
of discrimination in statutory sizes, he stated that “little 
or no regard is here paid to size, as every trout, big or 
little, is here considered an honest trout and then the 
game warden is near sighted and carries no scale of 
inches and the best of all lives fifteen miles away and 
don’t fuss over little things anyhow. But kill a deer 
during close season and up you go.” The little briar- 
torn pleader’s presentation of the case in question was 
very artful, as well as amusing, but nevertheless, it 
expounded to a nicety the principle that custom makes 
laws, and that self-defense is the oldest law of nature. 
I was content with the catch we had made, as enough 
is as good as a feast, I thought, and suggested our re- 
turn; but as the ambitious neophyle of the gentle art 
was greedy for more, I gave way to his earnest desires. 
No Virgil was ever so enraptured with his ^Eneas as 
this mischievous little imp of the angle. Opportunities 
presenting, he will soon become a stellar light in ye 
ancient craft, and then the barnyard hackle with him 
will be a thing of the past. I will here state in justice 
to my efficient aide de camp that my piscatorial success 
was solely attributed to my having unknown and fortu- 
nately chosen the correct route that led to the best 
pools, where in generous numbers these lovely Narods 
grow golden and gameful. 
After a good rest, I arose quite refreshed, and as I 
had planned, started on a detour so as to avoid the part 
of the stream I had already angled, leaving the youth- 
ful devotee to select his own waters. I, however, re- 
pented of my afternoon’s exploit long before I had 
reached the desired locality, for it had thorjis as well 
as roses. I was, however, repaid in a measure by my 
woodland walk, as there was much to delight the eye and 
please the fancy. 
My tramp was through thick bushes and grasses and 
tangles of wild flowers crowding the open spaces where 
the sunshine fell, while ever and anon the poetry of the 
scene was all lost when I had to conquer a slashing or 
two that forbade my approach to the bank of the babbling 
brook I sought. I persevered in my just endeavor, and 
after afrightng a red squirrel that was barking in a 
slanting sunbeam on a tall elm and disturbing the soprano 
notes of a catbird, I caught a glimpse of the rippling rivu- 
let that sparkled like a stream of liquid diamonds, and 
was soon at its grassy marge lifting out marvellous fish 
of rainbow hues and graceful symmetry. It would be a 
twice told tale to give every rapture and thrill that pos- 
sessed me as I coaxed, impaled and landed these red and 
gold rovers that came from the mountain streams, where 
they caught the initial imprint of the sun’s early rays and 
the first drops of the crystaline water of the cloudburst 
ere they were tainted with the soot and grime and dust 
of the lower regions. Its birthright evidently savors of 
the celestial. 
I took one among the dozen I had captured on my sec- 
ond raid that weighed over a pound. He was poising in 
a big and deep pool and had just leaped for an insect that 
was skimming over his trysting place as happy as a lover 
when he was suddenly taken frdm his beautiful world. 
Honors, however, were even when I played a similar 
game on the irridescent denizen of the flower-lined pool. 
He had anticipated a toothsome banquet when he saw 
my dowm dropping bon-bon of deceit, but in lieu read 
his death warrant when he closed his blood red paws 
upon it. This is the sweetness of life burned in stogyian 
darkness while the little stream sang and rippled on as 
cheerily as though no tragedy had been consummated, 
where the air is sweet with the fragrance of flowers. 
Having captured all I desired of these lovely creatures 
that beautify the tinkling stream, I prepared for beating 
and breasting my way back, and, I assure you, that re- 
gardless of all floral life that beset my path, I hastened 
on to overtake the juvenile piscator who had doubtless 
ere this made another invoice of lilliputs or tom-tits of the 
stream for me to condemn and for him to eulogize for 
the spit. 
When I had at last reached our base I there found the 
youthful rodster idolizing a pound and a half brook 
beauty, the colors of which no painter’s brush ever 
matched, nor did a sculptor’s chisel ever trace such per- 
fect symmetry. He had, he excitedly stated, caught it on 
the “yank ’em out” principle with the result of a broken 
rod, though not a very costly one, and which he imme- 
dictely replaced by one from nature’s vast storehouse, 
which, he declared, would land anything from a minnow 
to a maskinonge. I showered generous adulations upon 
him for the blue ribbon capture, and as a peroration to 
my eulogy stated that he was really deserving of a crown 
of gold. After the blushing effects of my panegyric had 
passed away he turned to me, and with a significant look 
and opera bouffe mannerism, announced: “If I did catch 
the smallest fish I also caught the largest.” And then he 
felt the sweetness of piscatorial glory and his sparkling 
eyes and swelling pride proclaimed it to the warbling 
birds, the whispering pines and the fragrant flowers 
which so lavishly environed us. 
The long silent shadows were now changing the bright- 
ness of the earth and Phoebus was putting on her royal 
robes for her luxurious couch, and as we had a long drive 
over the highway we hurriedly prepared for our departure. 
Our road was solely through a pastoral country in which 
the woodman’s ax had almost eliminated the forest. A 
few small groves, however, were left standing that gave 
shelter to the cattle in hot and stormy weather and also 
served most happily as a nesting place for birds. The 
roadway was dusty, but the sky which had enriched itself 
since morning with the colors of a painter’s palette, was 
now supremely magnificent. 
These were marvels in grays and white, and blues were 
never wrought in such matchless splendor, while the gold 
and crimson, never inseperable frorn a western horizon 
when there is no entire obliteration of sunshine, were 
just ravishingly lovely. Such pinl<s and bronzes never 
tinged the ragged edges of the rolling clouds, and never 
did the snow banks ever look so intensely white and so 
transparent and etherial. They were an absorbing study 
for anyone who possessed the slightest love for the fas- 
cinations of cloud life, even the adolescent angler would 
frequently take his keen eye from the roadway and the 
innocent game he was always looking for and gaze in 
raptures upon the grand mise en scene that nature was 
then so enchantingly presenting in the arched dome. 
The few trees that we saw along the road looked in 
the declining sun as if they had a sash of gold and crim- 
son wound about their rugged loins, the bushes that 
clustered here and there where some son of the toil had 
kindly spared them, stood in silent beauty with quiet 
tents, a field of daisies and buttercuns would suddenly en- 
chant with impressive seas of color which boldly defied 
imitation, and then a tiny purling brook in shimmering 
silver that ran between grassy banks would flash upon 
you, and to give poetic enchantment to the truly pastoral 
scene some wood sparrow would start his sweet vesperian 
chant while the locust’s song filled the measure of melody. 
After we had gone quite a distance I noticed Albert, 
the alert, looking very eagerly in advance as if he were 
fairly aching to shoot off that stinging whip he held so 
firmly in his clenched hand. By way of admonition I 
here said to him in as solemn a tone as a divine: “That 
man is born barbarous, and ransomed from the condition 
of beasts only by being cultivated and obeying the laws 
of both God and man ; and I sincerely hope that you will 
bear this in mind and endeavor to check your evil pro- 
pensity for striking at every living thing you pass on the 
road.” The brief sermon amounted to nothing and was 
as sounding bra'ss and tinkling cymbals, for he at once 
responded : 
“Certainly, but bear in mind that the mail must not be 
delayed.” 
This bon mot was the Alpha and Omega of all his witi- 
cisms. He doubtless had picked it up on the road when 
his spavined and rheumatic steed was carrying some 
humorist who valued time as money. 
Amid the deep tranquils which prevailed we made 
meritorious advancement, as the steady pace the equine 
was going was doubtless the result of the vesperian ban- 
quet of oats and hay which awaited him at the final ter- 
mination of our drive; The whip and wit ( ?) and guide, 
and so on, kept his musical oleo in full blast, as if run 
by a threshing machine, as we sped along, as he was ever 
whistling, humming or snapping his long-lashed whip 
with which he affirmed he could hit either a fly or pin- 
head at a reasonable distance, and to convince me of his 
assertion, he at once snapped off the head of a dainty 
daisy that charmingly enriched the roadside. Caesar had 
his Brutus and Charles I. his Cromwell, but to the irre- 
pressible Albert it was given to pose as the royal cracker- 
jack of the empire of the far-reaching highways, and that 
without fear of dethronement or assassination. 
Coming to a very comfortable and neat cottage that had 
an air of prosperity about it, we noticed at the front door 
a sweet looking girl of tender years, with the sunshine 
playing with her auburn curls and creeping down her 
dress like a caressing hand of light. Her cheeks — the 
very ideal of symmetry — were in a deep and roseate glow, 
and would have won the admiration of a praxitiles, while 
her pinkish lips rivalled the coral of the south seas. It 
was an exceptional picture, really a violet in a desert. 
Albert, who had doubtless seen the innocent figure long 
before I had, with the ardor of a Romeo threw her a 
graceful kiss and then immediately after excitedly ex- 
claimed: “I know that girl.” 
“Your sweetheart?” 
“Can’t say yet.” 
On looking around I saw the sudden tell-tale radiate 
on the lovely maiden’s face, and that was surely the 
affirmation. 
As we again ran across the fateful purple cow who had 
got a stinger from the whipster on our trip out, he quick- 
ly gathered himself together for a repetition of the same 
shameful act. Coming abreast of her he raised his whip 
on high to give her a gentle reminder relative to the 
mail, and as it was about to descend on its cruel mission, 
I alertly caught it on the fly and then laughed in his sur- 
prised face, thus spoiling ^his prospective tableau. He 
cheerfully joined in the laugh, saying: 
“That cow has been pestering me for a long time, and 
1 never meet her but what I feel like making a red mark 
on her. Hang a purple cow, anyhow, I say.” 
We finally brought up at the hotel and on parting the 
reckless and audacious little lad who, despite his idiosyn- 
crasies of the whip, I learner to like so much on the trip, 
turned, and with glowing pride on his expressive face and 
a mischievous twinkle in his eye, piquantly inquired : 
“Who caught the biggest trout?” 
“Who caught the most fingerlings?” was my significant 
response, and then with simultaneous laughter that loud- 
ly and cheerfully rang out, the song of the brook and 
the trout was ended, and the picture of the old angler 
and his young and frolicksome guide in the piscatorial 
exploit completed and so concludes one of the most de- 
lightful trouting trips I ever experienced on St. Joseph’s 
Island. Alex. Starbuck. 
Salmon on a Spoon. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
The anglers who fish the Ristigouche and tributaries 
are beginning to find out that salmon will take a spoon. 
A friend of mine constructed a copper spinner this sum- 
mer and caught a salmon in the Matapedia. He uses it 
generally for sea trout fishing, but thought he would try 
the salmon, which he did with the above result. I have 
often thought of trying a spinner in the channels of 
Bathurst Harbor when the salmon are coming in, and I 
believe it would take. I understand grilse have also been 
taken in the St. John River, below Fredericton, with bait 
and spinner. This is another confirmation of Hallock’s 
“Salmon Fisher.” C. H. 
The current edition of the Game Laws in Brief, sold 
everywhere, contains all the fish and game laws a sports- 
man ought to know, It is complete, accurate and up-to- 
date. 
Newfoundland Experience. 
On returning from an outing of two months from 
Newfoundland last Saturday, and on buying Forest and 
Stream, I saw on your title sheet “Report your luck 
to Forest and Stream,” so it is up to you to do what 
you wish with this article, written for the benefit of 
brother sportsmen intending to shoot and fish in that 
almost uninvaded country, where it costs nothing for 
the privilege of catching all the fish you can, only pay- 
ing for your guides and camp outfits (including food 
and boat) about $6 a day, viz., two guides $1.50 each per 
day, $3 per day for camp outfit and grub for three. 
This is the price asked by the Bay St. George Hotel, 
Stephensville Crossing, and the Log Cabin, Spruce 
Brook, either by the day or week. I found by a 
month’s camping out I could cut down the grub ac- 
count by buying it at St. Johns, or at Stephensville 
Crossing, or the Bay of Islands, by less than one-half, 
as canned stuff cost about $1.35 a dozen and most of the 
guides will procure you a camping outfit with cooking 
utensils at a small cost, or none, if they have their own. 
I should advise taking your own tent, say 7x9, in your 
personal baggage. It will do nicely for two or three, 
as in my case. I had only one tent of this size and two 
guides. Get a fly with your tent, as it is warm in the 
middle of the day and the fly is most useful in heavy 
rain storms. Also I should recommend taking a piece 
of canvas, 4x7, with grummet holes on edge, so it can 
be attached by a lacing cord to poles raised from the 
ground on forked sticks, which insures you a dry bed. 
This is also useful in doing up your stores. It might 
be made double and could then be used as a bag for 
your blankets and extra traps. Take a rubber pillow. 
Only warm, thick woolen clothes are needed; also rub- 
ber boat, wading stockings, and canvas shoes with nails 
to tie over same. A good salmon rod, 14 feet, weighing 
about 1)4 pounds, I found suitable for both grilse and 
salmon, and light enough to handle most of the day 
without exerting any extra muscles. A good reel, hold- 
ing 100 yards of line, and about four dozen small-sized 
salmon flies — none larger than a good-sized trout fly. 
I do not advise the use of the double hook fly, as 
I found, on the fish working against the rod, one hook 
was apt to back upon the other and break off or work 
out. The flies most successful on all the rivers this 
year were the old patterns, Jock-Scot, silver-doctor, 
black-dose, black and brown-fairy. Durham-ranger, 
silver-gray. If the fish will not take these, ask some 
friend to give or lend you one of his special kind, and 
if you keep them you will have a dozen unknown and 
mostly unnamed varieties to the good or bad, as you 
find them. The fact of the matter is when grilse are 
taking, more so than the full-grown salmon, the fish 
rushes the fly as if he wants it, call it Jock-Scot or 
silver-doctor; otherwise he w.ll come and take a pick 
at the feathers, which I have seen him do on a change 
of three flies with no better success. I took several 
large salmon by changing and putting on a fly of the 
same kind, a size smaller than the one I was using, 
after having had several swdris or breaks with no take. 
It is no use fishing with flies the size of those generally 
used on the Restigouche River, or in New Brunswick 
w’aters. 
I was camped on the Dump Pool, Harry’s Brook, 
and had to leave three days prior to Capt. Gillet’s kill 
of the 25-pounder. I vms after that fish for weeks, and 
W'hile seeing him frequently, could never get him to 
take, although I rose him several times. I killed one 
of 22V2 pounds, which measured 38^4 inches long and 
a girth of 22 inches. Also one 39^2 inches long by 18 
inches girth, which weighed just under 16 pounds, and 
was much the gamiest and handsomest fish. I killed 
the first in 22 minutes and took half an hour to land 
the other. How about guessing the weight of salmon 
from measurements? I was fortunate in killing thirty- 
six salmon, fourteen of which were large ones. 
As to rivers to fish and best time to fish them, mak- 
ing allowance for wet spring after heavy falls of snow 
like last winter, or dry season like 1904, I found them 
by accounts given by gentlemen sportsmen and guides 
on the west coast, to be as follows: The Grand 
Cordroy, the earliest, commencing June i in the lower 
pools from the tidewater pools to the overfull pools. 
After July i the big salmon pool, the forks pool, and 
others higher up, are good until Aug. i. Get off at 
Doyle’s Station, about an hour’s ride by rail from Port 
au Basque. Mr. Doyle has a comfortable farmhouse, 
and either he or his sons will give you reliable in- 
formation as to fishing and guides. Little River, three 
miles south from Doyle’s, is the best Aug. i. It is a 
good sea trout river in June. There is a fair house, 
Tompkins’, on Little River, which is generally filled 
with sportsmen. Two hours further north by rail you 
come to Crabs, on Crabs River; good grilse, sea trout 
and some salmon here; time, June 15 to July 15. Next 
above on the railroad is Fishel's, then Robinson’s, both 
good rivers, July is to Aug. i, with sea trout, grilse 
and some salmon. Then comes Stephensville Crossing, 
at the head of Bay St. George. Here the Bay St. 
Ueorge Plotel is good and comfortable, Martin pro- 
prietor. From this point you have the choice of 
Harry’s Brook, Bottom River, Southwest River, and 
others emptying into St. George Bay. Guides and 
camp outfit may be secured at Bay St. George Hotel 
or Martin’s. The fisherman can make private terms 
with local guides for two or three weeks’ trip on these 
rivers at a much reduced rate. 
Next comes Log Cabin, Spruce Brook, twenty miles 
further up, on Harry’s River, Chas. Dodd, proprietor. 
The Log Cabin contains about sixteen rooms, very 
home-like, good food, and host who is most energetic 
in getting you good sport. It is at this station that 
the caribou hunters find their paradise — best time to 
hunt. Sept. 15 to latter part of October. The license 
for visitors to hunt deer is $50, which allows the hunter 
to kill or take out three stags only. The proprietor 
guarantees, in a week’s hunt, to give the shooter a 
chance to kill his three stags, or no charge for outfit. 
Duck and snipe are plentiful about St. George Bay 
from. Sept. 15 to Nov. i. I saw quite a number of bay 
snipe in August, and understand that the English or 
Wilson snipe are found in large numbers on the bar- 
