Aug. 30, 1913- 
FOREST AND STREAM 
2.59 
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299 BROADWAY 
RAZOR 
NEW YORK CITY 
How To Go Trout Fishing. 
Your vacation is not complete unless you 
have angled for the wary trout. 
■ You don’t appreciate your home until 
you have been on a trouting trip. 
One of the requisites is running water. 
The water that runs down a mountain 
without cost is preferable to the sort that 
runs through a faucet, too warm to drink in 
summer and freezes in winter. 
Your equipment should consist of hip 
boots. These are made of rubber and weigh 
11 pounds each. 
For wading in water anywhere from three 
inches to a foot they may seem a little too 
high, but once you have fallen over a mossy 
stone in the babbling brook and filled them 
with water, you will understand why hip boots 
are better — they hold so much more. 
You can get a nice jointed rod for $27. 
Put your hook and sinker on the line first. 
As you will do this anyway, it is better to tell 
you about it and have it done with. 
Then you will find you cannot thread the 
line through the eyelets of the rod without 
removing hook and sinker. 
Lay in a stock of flies that cost any¬ 
where from half a dollar to three dollars each. 
They are very stylish. Hook some of them 
through the band on your hat, so you can 
gouge your finger on them when you brush 
away the gnats. Then go out and dig some 
worms for bait. 
You need a fish basket. It will come in 
handy for carrying that sandwich and the 
quart. It also catches in the bushes and slams 
up against, your thigh until you acquire the 
spring halt. 
Select a nice, long, cool stream that winds 
through tangled underbrush and up over great 
ledges, mossgrown and slippery. Walk to 
the stream, joint your rod, fix the tackle, put 
on your hip boots and start out. 
Approach a nice ripple under some alder 
bushes, thrust your rod forward. The hook 
catches, haul it back; the hook remains caught, 
yank it slightly, push it, pull it, bend it side¬ 
ways, then lose your temper and give it a ter¬ 
rific yank, and it will come away, leaving 
hook and sinker hanging on the limb. 
Wade in and get it. If there were any 
fish in the ripples they have gone away from 
there by this time. They probably objected 
to your language. 
Repeat this half a dozen times, then strike 
into the up-grade. 
Now you will be all right; there is plenty 
of room to move about—no alder bushes, and 
some deep pools. 
Just as you approach one of these pools 
you step on a mossy rock and fall on your 
rod. But you cut off some of your line and 
mend the rod and proceed. 
Now come the gnats, or midges, or black 
flies, or whatever they are. They are about as 
large as the point of a pin, but they bite as 
though they were seven sizes larger than an 
elephant. They take your mind off the fish¬ 
ing for a while, and you sit down to drink 
your lunch. 
Then you proceed up stream, step on an¬ 
other mossy rock and move rapidly away from 
thence into the pool. It is only two feet deep, 
standing up. 
But you are not standing up. It is over 
your head lying down. And you are lying 
down. 
Go some distance inland and carefully 
empty your boots (the water will run out of 
your other garments by itself), but be careful 
in emptying the boots, as sometimes a fish 
gets in them, and then you are so much ahead. 
It is now time to turn back if you expect 
to get home before dark. 
The walk back would be easier, as it is 
down hill, except that the mosquitoes and 
gnats and midges prefer you wet and flock 
about you twice as thick. 
Then, again, the felt lining of your boots 
rolls up and works a blister on each heel. 
That’s all. 
The fish? 
Why, this isn't an article on how to catch 
fis.h; it is designed as a bit of invaluable in¬ 
struction on how to GO fishing. 
Going fishing and catching fish are en¬ 
tirely different matters.—N. Y. American. 
The Parson and the Trout. 
Rev. W. H. Markham, District Superin¬ 
tendent of the Methodist Church for Northern 
New York, has the honor of capturing the 
largest speckled trout of any in this part of 
the Adirondacks this season, so far as we have 
learned. While at Chasm Falls recently he 
tried the dark, swirling pool in the Salmon 
River, at the big rock, just above the Metho¬ 
dist parsonage. With a six-ounce rod, a 
white-miller and a black-gnat, he began deftly 
whipping the pool without a single rise for 
some moments. Suddenly he had a strike, 
and with a sharp turn of the wrist his flies 
seemed to be solidly fastened to a log. Un¬ 
der steady pressure the trout finally yielded 
a trifle and then for twenty minutes raced 
back and forth, leaping, sulking and in every 
way testing the skill and nerve of the parson. 
With rare judgment, Mr. Markham tired out 
his majesty, and finally succeeded in sliding 
the fish upon a sandy shore about a foot from 
the river. The fly was broken, though by 
pouncing on him with all fours the prize was 
saved. The fish weighed 3 pounds 7 ounces, 
and bore the scars of many a hard-fought 
battle.—The Malone F'armer. 
