Terms, Four Dollars a Year. 
Ten Cents a Copy. 
NEW YORK, THURSDAY, JUNE 6, 1878. 
Volume I O — No. 18. 
No. Ill Fulton Hi., N. V. 
For Forest and Stream and Rod and <?un. 
THE KING-FISH OR BARB— 
way through a hroad expanse of low meadow, till it joined 
the equally sinuous hut more rapid Passaic. 
(Umbrina nebulosa). 
O FT where the Blender lighthouse soars, 
Like sheeted ghost above the surge, 
Casting Its warnlDg flames at night, 
Far to the dim horizon's verge ; 
Round sunken reel and hidden rock, 
Where shells and sands Inlay the floor 
01 ocean, huogry king-fish glide, 
And the deep's mysteries explore. 
Resplendent with their russet head, 
Their silvery and azure sides, 
They dart like meteoric shafts 
Across the salt, tempestuous tides ; 
There anchor'd, when the tides are low, 
When first the young flood bubbling flows, 
The flshcr far his spinning Hue, 
Deep down with hopeful ardor throws. 
Seek them where roars the tumbling surf, 
Along the Inlets of the shore ; 
Where swift between the sandy banks 
The tides thro’ deepen'd channels pour ; 
Go where Fire Island opes Its gate, 
To let the flooding currents In ; 
Or where the surf at Barnegat 
Mingles Its hoarse, Incessant din ; 
And there within the Inlet Jaws, 
Where deep and darkest (lows the tide, 
Feeding In vast echools, numberless, 
The greedy klng-flsh gleam and glide. 
When upland pastures swoon with heat, 
And red midsummer fires the air ; 
Wheu breezeleBS Is the city street, 
And dome and spire are all a-glare; 
How pleasant to pass forth and taste 
The salt airs of the watery waste, 
And In the sparkling ocean brine 
To dip the hook and cast the line ! 
Isaac McLellan. 
For Forest and Stream and Rod and Oun. 
Xife. 
EXPLORATION OF THR UPPER PA9SAIO. 
H AVING previously forwarded our canoes to Chatham, 
Morris County, N. J., as the most convenient point along 
the line of the D. L. & W. B. R. from which to reach the head- 
waters of the Passaic River, my companion and I took cars early 
on a bright October morning, and within the hour were inspect- 
ing our pets. Rejoiced to find them uninjured by the journey, 
we busily pursued our preparations for the trip. Paddles, 
sails, aprons, cordage, etc., were overhauled, and our provis- 
ions, blankets, waterproof coats, cartridges, cooking utensils, 
together with white lead, putty, tacks, screws, tin and nails 
for the repairing of any damage our canoes might sustain, 
were snugly stowed away below decks. 
A rustic genius named Miller, who happily possessed a 
wagon, not over large, and an apology for a horse, agreed, for 
a consideration, to transport our boats across country to a 
place on the map where a road from Meyersville crossed 
Great Brook. The canoes beiDg properly loaded and securely 
lashed, we started. Chatham and its wondering inhabitants 
were soon left behind. Up the not very moderate slope of 
Long Hill we crawled, our caravan presenting this appear- 
ance : Miller pulling the horse ; the horse dragging the wagon; 
Fred and I, gun on shoulder, occasionally lending assistance. 
In this manner, at a funereal pace, enlivened now and then by 
a trot, where a fair slope and a pressure behind encouraged 
the 6leepy quadruped, we proceeded, till at 4 p. m. the long- 
wished-for stream was reached. The talkative countryman 
was a beaver at work. We had the canoes unlashed and on 
the bank in a twinkling, and presently afloat. The native 
wagoner, much astonished at the behavior of the little craft, 
followed, in rattle-headed admiration, along the shore. It 
was sport to see him stare, as we, purposely, after receiv- 
ing lus noisy admonition, would dash upon a stone. Being 
unable comfortably to keep pace with us along the bank, he 
would dash along the bends and halloo as we passed in child- 
ish delight. At length he reluctantly bade us farewell, evi- 
dently determined to be charmed no further. Great Brook, 
some twenty feet broad where we launched and rifted, soon 
narrowed to a five foot channel, and serpentinely threaded its 
An hour and a half after our launch we entered the river, 
and shortly passed under a substantial-looking, whitewashed 
arrangement, spanning the stream, labeled in hugo black 
letters, “ White Bridge." We could not satisfactorily 
determine whether this glaring announcement of the 
structure's hue was intended as a work of art or a 
stupendous joke on the traveling public. To state 
that the affair was a bridge was all well enough. A traveler 
familiar with modern architecture and engineering would cer- 
tainly never have arrived at that conclusion unaided unless 
possessed of a strong desire to cross the stream. But to de- 
clare the color of a thing so manifestly white, to us, seemed 
quite unnecessary. 
A half mile further down, the sky having become overcast 
and darkness gaining rapidly, we drew out at a hickory grove, 
and soon our bright camp-fire lit up the sombre woods and 
threw a glare over the darkening river. A hearty supper over, 
we arranged our canoes and blankets for the night, then com- 
fortably settled ourselves by the fire for a talk. While en- 
gaged in conversation we caught the sound of footsteps on the 
opposite bauk, and presently an angry bass voice commanded: 
“Git out of them hickory nuts !" 
Having received the assurance that we were not marauders, 
but innocent canoeists, our unwelcome visitor withdrew ; and 
we, after a look at our breech-loaders, turned into our canoe 
beds to sleep quietly till morning. 
Daylight awakened us to a gloomy prospect of rain and 
dripping woods. At six o'clock, after a hot breakfast, we 
started. Obstructions in the river, such as fallen trees, wire 
cables, cattle fencoB and jams of assorted debris, bothered us 
outrageously. Several times we were obliged to carry round 
or use the ax, not an over pleasant exercise in wet weather. 
About noon we reached the cut, where the river parts Long 
Hill. Here we landed, and with some difficulty gained the 
summit of the bluff. The magnificent view obtained amply 
repaid us for our hard climb. The N. J. West Line R. R. 
bridged the river within a half mile of us, and two stations 
were in full sight. The valley was blocked off in squares of 
brown-green grass and browner stubble, separated by stone 
walls. Further down the white houses of the village of Mil- 
lington could be seen. Great red farm barns and more cosy 
white houses dotted, at intervals, the landscape. Under a 
sunny sky we could have enjoyed the view for hours ; as it 
was, the rain soon drove us riverward. 
Relaunching, we proceeded down. The stream here was a 
succession of rapids, and every few minutes we were obliged 
to wade over some unusually swift and rocky rift. Fred shot 
a gray squirrel and went ashore to secure him, while I entered 
a mill race and soon effected a landing at Millington. The in- 
habitants, as usual, turned out, and 1 had quite a talk with 
one old rustic, who, among other things equally queer, spoke 
of hearing that “ muskrats were plenty down to Staten Island," 
and said he intended going down in his dugout on a trapping 
expedition. The old fellow evidently had no idea of the dis- 
tance or obstacles in the way of his proposed excursion. 
Portaging around the mill we put into the race again, while 
the rosy faced miller in the proverbial white hat goodnatured- 
ly started the wheel to give us water. On reaching the river 
we were troubled much by shallows, and often obliged to 
wade. After a little pleasurable excitement in the shape of a 
duck chase, which resulted only in the wetting of our guns, 
we settled down to a steady, swinging stroke. 
Faster and faster came the rain, acd more and more cheer- 
less grew our situation, as we wound through, mile after mile 
of reeking, gloomy swamp. A half hour after passing the 
mouth of Dead River— appropriately named— we drew out at 
a pin-oak wood, amid the deafening caws of thousands of 
disturbed crows. The wind being strong, we were careful to 
place our canoe bows to it, and see that they were firmly 
lashed. With the help of a sapling and rubber blanket, I 
rigged a tight tent over my well. An armful of straw from a 
friendly stack furnished us with very good beds. They might 
have been a little damp, but they were certainly very comfort- 
able. After a fair supper we turned in, and I, for my part, 
was soon asleep. 
Twice during the night I got up to feed the fire, and at four 
a. m. we turned out into the darkness and same dismal rain. 
After a light breakfast, we arranged things so as to keep dry 
as possible, then pushed off and commenced our day’s journey, 
Until noon we continued on our wet and weary way without 
incident, nothing occurring to disturb tbeunceasiDg dipof our 
double-bladers. About mid-day, feeling hungry, I ran my 
canoe alongside of Fred’s, and thrusting my hand in aft suc- 
ceeded in extracting from the provision box a score or so of 
crackers. Placing these upon our aprons till completely 
soaked, we lunched on cracker and water. 
About two p. m. we arrived at a dam. After a little recon- 
noitering we debarked on the right bank of the pond, and 
portaged forty yards to the river below. We launched just 
above a bridge, and in spite of the storm had some curious 
spectators. 
Some four miles farther down we came to another dam. 
Here we made a portage from ihe left across a road, and put 
into the race. 
Half an hour after we reached another mill, and our third 
dam. In all the rain we unloaded the canoes. Carrying them 
up a steep bank, and across a rough, stony place, we put them 
down a stone wall, six feet high, into a raceway, a short dis- 
tance above where a turbiuc wheel discharged au eighteen 
inch stream across from the left. 
At last we were loaded, and Fred, leading, made toward the 
boiling discharge, which, at a right angle, impetuously dashed 
across, and piled up white against the opposing masonry. 
The whirling foam, a foot high, regurgitated madly 
for a second, then sped away down channel. The ven- 
ture was an awkward one, and, to ndd to the dilficulties, 
we were directly under a mill, and double paddles were use- 
less. I watched Fred carefully, in order to turn his experi- 
ence to my benefit. Just as his bow entered the first foam it 
struck a stone, aud he was forced to take the hazard at an 
angle. In a twiukling the bow of his canoe was lifted and 
dashed to starboard. A paddle stroke, and the stem felt tho 
water's force; another, and lie was safe in the open rapid. 
Then I urged my light craft forward, and with a Btrougbalf 
shove, half stroke, sent her flying into the midst of the seething 
mass. Quick as a flash the bow was tossed in air and hurled to 
the right. But I was ready for it, and with two quick, sharp 
strokes averted the clanger and forced the canoe ahead. Then 
the stern lifted, and before I could change my paddle, or at 
least before I could take a stroke the rushing water had thrown 
it violently against the wall. As I felt the jar I seut all my 
strength into that paddle stroke, and shot out from under the 
mill, when, having the current squarely astern, I was all right. 
Resuming my double puddle I soon overtook Fred, who con- 
tinued to use his single. 
That mill race was long and swift, carrying the whole 
volume of the stream, which it resembled at its most rapid 
points. As we rounded the last bend I wus appaled to see 
how far the river channel was below us. An exclamation 
from Fred reached me, aud, looking forward, I beheld tho 
worst rapid we had yet encountered. 
“Can you do it ?" I roared. 
“ I'll try," came the response. 
With all my force 1 backed water, but my utmost exertion 
failed to keep the canoe from advancing. 
The water of the race converged to some ten feet of rock- 
flanked channel, leaped with a smooth curve at the head of the 
decline, then, torn and fretted into angry whiteness, rushed 
wildly down to join the river. 
Fred took the fall, and I held my breath. When he bad 
made some twenty yards I stopped backing, aud was hurried 
on my irremediable way. 
There is something exhilarating in rapid running. Once 
fairly in the rush, I really enjoyed it. The wild jumps of my 
canoe just suited me, requiring, as they did, promDt action, a 
steady hand and a quick eye. Half down the rift, and used 
to the motion, I looked for Fred. His single paddle was 
flashing spitefully as he endeavored to pass to the right of a 
small islund upon which the rapid divided. Suddenly, while 
I looked, his canoe struck a submerged rock with a violenco 
that obliged him, with a rolling jump, to take to tho water. 
Exerting all my strength, I passed to the left of the island 
and gained the open and quiet river in safety. Fred soon 
joined me. 
Two miles more and we arrived at Chatham dam. Here 
we completely unloaded, carried our buggage and then our 
canoes across a grassy place, over a plank, anti in at what had 
once been the cellar window of an old mill. From Ihe window 
in the stone foundation there was a steep slope to the other 
side of the cellar, where the race was situated. The ground 
was hard, wet, slippery clay, with a few half buried stones 
lying around; just enough to crack a man's skull on in ca3e 
lie should be so unfortunate as to fail, When half the things 
bad been transported to the water's edge, the ill luck began. 
Fred brought his gun and the coffee-pot containing my cart- 
ridges, which had been stowed ihere to keep dry, and de- 
posited them at the window in Buch a manuer that when he 
walked away the j irring of the plank shook them down. I 
made a bound half way up the slippery slope, and caught the 
gun as it was sliding toward the water. The coffee-pot flew 
open, and my cartridges rolled about in all directions, couting 
themselves with clayey mud, and some taking water. 
At last, with many slips and some bruises, we succeeded 
in getting the canoes fairly into the shallow race, and were 
proceeding ns fast as possible with our loading when the 
contemptible .miller lowered the gates, stopped the mill, and 
then came out upon the bridge to enjoy our discomfiture. 
We knew if we delayed it would be impossible to get away ; 
so, heaping silent anathemas upon the pusillanimous corn- 
grinder, we tumbled our effects confusedly into the canoes 
aud pushed forward. With not a little trouble, owing to tiie 
rapidly shoaling water, we reached the river. Once there we 
had clear running, save that the stream was a little inclined to 
be rocky and rapid, to the house of a farmer-naturalist with 
whom we were acquainted. 
It was dark wheu we debarked at the foot of the lane, aud 
two more weary, wet and hungry explorers never sought shelter 
of house more thankfully than we. Received with a warm 
grasp of the hand and a hearty hunter's welcome, dried by a 
hot fire and invigorated by a bountiful supper, we passed a 
pleasant evening in tbe inspection of a fine collection of 
birds’ eggs and stuffed birds. At an early bour we turned 
into a white spread bed, which, to our tired frames, seemed 
luxury sufficient. It was a fearful night. The rain had 
ceased, but the wind was up, fierce and cold. We were not 
sorry to he within doors. 
The following forenoon was spent in drying aDd arranging 
our cargo. At noon, in the warm sunlight, we started. At 
