354 
Sept. 11,1875. 
LITTEBS FBOM BPOnimtH. 
Lake Neplgron, Wis., A^ain. 
[The glories of Lake Xepigon have already been 
painted by the pen of a reverend angler, Myron Reed; 
the following is from the pen of Congressman Burchard, 
who seems no less ardent than his reverend compeer.] 
Xepigox Falls, July. 
Our eyes linger with a true sportsman’s pride upon 
the beautiful victims of our rods and reels, as they lie 
upon the rocks before us; but there is sadness, too, for 
we are surfeited with trout, and still the choicest of our 
trophies are untouched, save by the fingers of death. 
What shall we do with them? Louis, fertile in expedi- 
ents, solves the problem, and a piece of birch bark, 
inscribed with cabalistic signs full of meaning to the 
hungry Chippewa, informs the “brigade,” expected up 
to-day, where they lie stark and pale in the cool waters 
which they graced while living. Relieved of a sense of 
guilt which reckless slaughter brings, we strike camp, 
and again listen to the ripple of the downward current 
playing about the bows of our canoes. We have just 
crossed a portage of a hundred rods, where we camped, 
and a half mile further we reach the second long port- 
age of two miles. Three fourths of the distance across, 
a trail leading to the right brings us to a fine camping- 
ground, fronting an eddy known as “Hamilton’s Pool.” 
We camp here to fish the stream and study its beauty. 
The waters rush down the rapids, over a fall of say 
twenty feet to the mile, white and noisy. An island of 
rocks just at the mouth of a gorge separates them, and 
two hundred yards below, as though loth to leave their 
mountain home, they eddy and return past our camp, 
again to join with shout and song the wild proression. 
Where the current of the eddy and the white waters of 
the downward current meet is Hamilton's Pool. Stand- 
ing on a jutting rock at this point the water .seems 
alive below you with trout. You see th'-m with tremb 
ling fin poised as I have seen an eagle poised in the air, 
and then they dart into the white foam. Here lie a 
half dozen in plain view, lazily loafing in the still wa- 
ter, which requires no effort, and apparently watching 
the gambols of the young chaps of a fool to fifteen 
inches in length. Drop your hook before them baited 
never so carefully — no! they spurn your hospitality. 
Trail it along past and from them — “in vain is the net 
spread in sight of the bird.” But toss it out in the 
foam; allow the current to carry out a hundred feet of 
your line, and two to one some enterprising, roystering 
bi-auty will contest with you the ownership of the hook, 
and pit his skill and strength and fin against your sci- 
ence, braid and steel — the stake with him bis life. 
Just as the shadows were at the longest and the bluffs 
were bathed in the crimson of the dying day. we began 
fishing. Forty of the most even-sized and finest trout 
captured answered to our roll-call. Mr. Hall sketched 
and painted on canvas three of the fish we caught that 
evening; life-size he painted them — nineteen inches in 
length. 
A misty, drizzly morning kept us again in camp until 
about noon, when we returned to the trail, completed 
the portage, and pushed on up the stream. Three or 
four miles above the river widens and forms three appa- 
rent channe's. The one to the left is a lake which ex- 
tends to within a short distance of Lake Xepigon, in 
still water the entire distance. Thi-; is the route taken 
by the supply canoes of the company, and they portage 
into Xepigon Lake a short distance, striking it one 
day’s canoe travel west of the falls. The middle chan- 
nel is the ma^n river, impassable just here for canoes 
bound up. The right hand channel is a bay following 
parallel with the main river, and we cross the narrow 
strip of land which separates them, carrying baggage 
and canoes. It is early, and a threatening sky induces 
us to camp. Hardly is our tent pitched before the rains 
descend as they did in answer to the prayers of goo* 
old Elijah. Just before sunset the sky became clear, 
and we paddled back through the bay, round the point, 
and landed on a smooth platform of rock which just 
out into the swift water of the main stream. 
I do not recall the number of fish caught here, but 
mention it as the plnce of Germain’s triumph, for here 
he landed the “ boss ” trout of the trip, twenty-three 
inches long and thirteen inches girth. Reed and myself 
in a canoe, prospecting the eddy further up, fish from 
the birch, while “Wassi” holds us in position with the 
paddle. The ticking of Reed’s reel, the taut line and 
trembling rod, advertise success, but the glistening eye 
of that preacher, the mute eloquence of those firmlv 
set lips, the straining muscles of his whole body, tell 
to me the story of his triumph, and I am glad even in 
the shadow of mv own eclipse. I have seen him on 
the platform, when he told the wonderful story of “Fere 
Marquette;” have heard him talk to soldiers bn Decora- 
tion Day until the big tear-drops filled their untrimmed 
beards with diamonds dug from the wealth of their 
hearts’ best impulses; I have heard him tell the old, old 
.story of the cross, and have wondered at the lights and 
shadows that cha.sed each other across his face as he 
held men entranced by the voice of his eloquence, but 
I have never seen him when he looked so grandly 
“Reed,” as when, at sunset on that day, he felt the 
quiver of his rod as it twisted and bent with the strug- 
gles of this, the largest speckled trout he ever caught. 
Full fifteen minutes of skillful play, the light birch 
csnoe answering to the efforts of the fish, and only kept 
from the rapids by an occasional stroke of \Va-«si's 
paddle, ana he has him within reach of the net. A loud 
shout of triumph, and by common consent we start for 
camp. Reed's fish measured a trifle more than twenty- 
two inches in length, and was the gamiest fish caught 
by the party. 
Early the' next morning we are across the portage, 
and off for the Falls, which we reach at noon, walking 
around two rapids, up which our Indians dragged the 
canoes by keeping close in shore and wading. 
The falls over which the waters of the fake find an 
entrance to the river are about fifteen feet high — a solid 
sheet of dark water broken by the rocks below into 
columns of loam. For a hundred rods above the falls 
there is a smooth, swiff current where the waters con- 
verge, an 1 while you watch it sweeping by as though 
bid len to some sw'ift errand, a bewildering fascination 
seizes upon you. Ycu wonder if these wateis leiU ever 
pass, and whence thi y come, and listen anxiously ex- 
pecting that every ' oar of the waters below will be the 
last, and that the floods will pass away. But the=e hills 
have listened to this chant since the beginning — the 
same angry swirl of foam lias called hoarsely to the dis- 
tant rocks since the morning stars sang together, and 
will for all time to come. 
Here for the first time we suffered the annoyance of 
flies — those pasty, w.-ftery insects that Reed describes. 
Of all the fishing on the Xepigon that below the falls is 
best. Here at the outlet of this vast breeding pond the 
venerable trout, scarred with the frequent pilgrimage 
from river to lake, wa'ches over the welfare of his de 
scendanis — the trout of middle-age, the lithe, smooth 
beauty of a year's growth, and the land-'ocked salmon 
disports himself in the troubled waters of the tails. We 
camped here one day. By the rocks across the point 
where the restful waters of the eddy join their angry 
brethren from the lake, the lazy disciple of Izaak 'Walton 
may sit in the cool shade of overlianaing cedars and 
enjoy such fishing as the AdirondacKs have never wit- 
nessed. 
Standing on the rocks opposite our camp and casting 
your h.iokinto tlie rapids, you are certainiof game. Xot 
the lithe, speckled troiitlinjs of Northwest Wisconsin, 
75 of which will scarcely fill a basket, but veterans of 
the falls and foam, weighing of good, square avoir- 
dupois, two to five pounds each. 
Hard was the voy age acro'-'s the lake; hard many of 
the toilsome portages and swift currents, but to stand 
upon these rocks, j our shouts for a landing net drowned 
in the roar of the falls, your rod quivering as a reed 
with a five pound trout fighting for his life, in the 
noblest home that Nature ever provided, the verdict is 
one of entire satisfaction. Sam. 
To Ex-Uunmaker. 
Sax Fb-vncisco, Aug. 20. 
I take the liberty, as a brother sportsman, to address 
this note to you, and trust you may not consider the 
liberty as sn unpardonable one. 
I note in issue of Rod axd Gun, dated August 14, an 
article written by you, headed “Truth or Falsehood.’’ 
In this article you refer to your use of a Tolley, 14gauge, 
8 lb. gun, and of the pattern made at 35 yards, with 
Dittraar and Hazard powders, Xo. 6 shot. 
My particular reason for writing this letter is to have 
your candid and unbiased opinion on the merits or de- 
merits of your “Tolley” referred to. 
I have at this moment on order a “ Tolley,” 12 gauge, 
7-J lb. weight, 30 in. barrels, bored in the “modified” 
choke system, and I would like to have the opinion of 
one who has used their guns and able to judge of their 
qualities, as you undoubtedly must be. 1 do not know 
of the existence of a “ Tolley” in this State |at this time, 
nor have I ever seen one. The Tolleys are spoken of as 
excellent makers, and their prices seem low enough for 
first-rate workmanship and materials. If you will ad- 
dress me through columns of Rod and Gun, you will 
much oblige J. K. O. 
Blue Blood. 
Xew Yoke, Aug. 27. 
Reading “ Dogwbip’s” letter on bench shows and field 
trials in the last number of Rod and Gun, he rather 
seems to have ideas for himself alone, which only are 
supported by about the same number of gentlemen 
as there are (according to Dogwhip’s idea) blue-blooded 
dogs in America. I, for my part, am glad that the 
number of these men is so small who believe that only 
about two dozen blue-blooded dogs were born in this 
country in anno 1874. Xo, no! This would be rather 
discouraging! 
But probablj' only these dogs which were brought 
over fiom England inside their mother, and whelped 
here, are blue bloods? And wbat becomes of the sons 
and daughters of Rodman’s Dash, Colburn’s Dan, and 
the hundreds of other good dogs, as well on the show- 
bench as in the field, .which can be traced back to their 
great grand-parents, famous for their fine performances 
in the field and their intelligence? 
I must confess that a few gentlemen, of whom Dog 
whip is one, have done much to improve our setters and 
pointers, and we all should be thankful to them. They 
have not spared either money or trouble to secure the 
best dogs of England, and it is of course undeniable 
that these fine dogs, crossed with our good, hardy, na- 
tive setters, make, after one or two generations, the best 
dogs for our country, and many — yes, the most— of our 
celebrated dogs for fine field work are got in this waj'. 
Therefore, I think, it is very -n-rong to say that our pres- 
ent dogs will always be beaten at all show benches by 
the direct imported dogs; and as these high-priced dogs 
are only accessible to a few men of means, to write such 
ideas is more discouraging than encouraging for anj- 
dog-breeders, and will keep many a man off who really 
owns a fine deg, to take the trouble to exhibit iu 
We all know that our dogs can beat the English im- 
ported dogs cn American soil, in the field, which Dog- 
whip also confirms; but why ain’t these dogs as good 
and as well, pure and blue-blooded, when the pedigree 
is known, as their imported cousins? Justus. 
Our Paper. 
Springfield, Mass., Aug. 26. 
For one I am much pleased with the change in your 
paper, especially in cutting the leaves. It is a change 
which all will appreciate. I have no doubt. Your cor- 
respondent's letters on the Rifle Team have also been 
vety interesting to me, and I am very glad the Team had 
such good success, and right -well have they earned it. 
I hope rifle clubs will be formed all over America, so 
that we may be known as a country of good marksmen. 
Every sportsman must appreciate, and to that end should 
contribute to, the pages set apart in j’our paper for their 
especial benefit, giving us the benefit of their experience 
and adventures from time to time. It is certainly very 
interesting to me to read what m)- brother sportsmen 
have to sa)-. I have reaped much profit from perusing 
them. This week's number is full and running over. 
Permit me to congratulate j'ou again on the good looks 
of your paper. Long may it wave! F. 
A Trip up the Lake«. 
Chicago, Sept. 3. 
My last letter, embracing a few descriptive notes of a 
trip up the Lakes, was concluded as we were nearing 
the port of Chicago — beautiful, magnificent, wonderful 
Chicago. To speak of its marvelous Phoenix-like resur- 
rection is but to repeat a stoiy familiar to all, and still 
incomprehensible to all who have not seen it since the 
destroying element swept the Chicago of the past from 
the face of the earth, for no descriptions of Chicago, 
fictitious as some of them seem, ever serve to fortify the 
stranger against a feeling of amazement as he looks upon 
this glorious City of Palaces, remembering, as he must, 
that its foundation-stones were laid beneath the still hot 
ashes of another Chicago ; that but j-esterda}' it was a 
field of smoldering ruins. From its centre to its cir- 
cumference, in any direction for miles, the eye is greeted 
by a continuous succession of blocks, made up of mas 
sive structures, every one of which is a specimen of 
architectural beauty, until the very grandeur of the 
scene becomes monotonous through the absence of any- 
thing cheap or common-place. There it stands, grand 
and beautiful in its conception, marvelous in its growth. 
It is verily one of the wonders of the world — a living 
demonstration of the fact that the day of miracles is not 
past, and this is Chicago, the heart, the life-seat of the 
great IVest Radiating from this grand centre like the 
arteries from the human heart, is an almost inextricable 
system of railroads, chief among which are the lines of 
the Chicago and Northwestern Railroad Compan}'. 
Operating, as it do^, twenty-two hundred miles of rail- 
road, it necessarily extends in every direction — IFest, 
North and Northwest — giving and receiving the life- 
substance of a thousand flourishing towns and cities, 
and a vast extent of fertile territory. Over its network 
of lines the merchant is conveyed, so to speak t'^ almost 
every’ important town in the West. The visitor may 
alight at almost any threshold, and the sportsman is con- 
ducted to a thousand fields of pleasure. 
It was over this line that I was conveyed to the scene of 
my first prairie chicken hunt, I had hunted almost every 
variety of game bird common to this country, but I 
had never hunted the pinnated grouse in summer, part- 
ly because the pleasure derived from any kind of sum- 
mer shooting but poorly repays the discomforts it costs, 
but chiefly for the reason that I had always regarded it 
as “tame” shooting, affording less excitement and gen- 
uine sport than any other shooting we have, and al- 
