252 
FOREST AND STREAM 
Aug. 24, 1912 
LEFEVER GUN 
WINS HIGH AVERAGE OVER ALL 
Blue Grass Championship, Winchester, Ky., July 4th 
192 ex 200 
in the hands of Mr. Woolfolk Henderson. 
Lefever system of taper boring insures the maximum 
penetration and most even distribution of shot. 
Send for catalog 
LEFEVER ARMS COMPANY .... Syracuse, N. Y 
No Shortcomings 
The Smith Gun has no shortcomings—not one. The 6 Hunter 
brothers, with inventions, precision, workmanship and experience, 
kept after shot gun shortcomings for 22 years, until they had wiped 
out the last and least important one. 
“6 Times 22 Years Experience” gives the shooter of a Smith 
Gun the fullest possible pleasure in the field, and the maximum 
game in his bag. 
Ask your dealer to show you the new L. C. Smith 20 -gauge. 
Send for Catalog. 
HUNTER ARMS CO., 90 Hubbard St., FULTON, N. Y. 
L. C. SMITH GUNS 
TEST FOR YOURSELF 
Mix the best cocktail you know 
how — test it side by side with a 
Club Cocktail 
No matter how good a Cocktail 
you make you will notice a smooth¬ 
ness and mellowness in the Club 
Cocktail that your own lacks. 
Club Cocktails after accurate 
blending of choice liquors obtain 
their delicious flavor and delicate 
aroma by ageing in wood before 
bottling. A new cocktail can 
never have the flavor of an aged 
cocktail. 
Manhattan, Martini and other 
standard blends, bottled, ready 
to serve through cracked ice . 
Refuse Substitutes 
AT ALL DEALERS 
G. F. HEUBLEIN & BRO., Sole Props. 
Hartford New York London 
FISHERMEN NEED DIXON’S GRAPHITE 
Jging of ferrules, tangling of line 
-Tael 
n P 
and is good for reeisr~--c_i! 
free sample and booklet P-5^ 
JOSEPH DIXON CRUCIBLE CO. 
JERSEV( 
believe I have discovered a tropical fishing coun¬ 
try in which the sport is far superior to that at 
Florida, Catalina or anywhere else that I know 
of, and as soon as my health is re-established I 
propose, with the assistance of one solitary 
American now resident there, who has taken 
me into his confidence, to fish this country, write 
a book about my results, illustrating it with my 
own photographs, and throw open to the world 
of sportsmen a new region of sport, for which 
I hope and believe my name may go down to 
the future as having earned their sincere grati¬ 
tude. 
I want everybody, sportsmen, manufacturers 
and dealers to understand that I am not writing 
in a spirit of malice, nor with a desire to hurt 
anybody, but in the best interests of sport, which 
means sportsmen first and makers and dealers 
afterward. My original records and correspond¬ 
ence are on file here, and I earnestly invite their 
inspection, and should any person feel that he 
has been aggrieved, shall be more than pleased 
to make the damage good. I believe, however, 
that after careful consideration, even the trade, 
of which I know the temptations, will come to 
the conclusion that I am writing in good faith 
and will accept the rule on which I run my own 
business, viz.: that a pleased customer is the 
best advertisement. 
ENGLISH SEAWEED FOR TRIMMING 
HATS. 
A rather unusual industry along the Kentish 
coast has come to public attention through a 
complaint lodged with the Kent and Essex Sea 
Fisheries Committee at a recent meeting in Lon¬ 
don, says the Daily Consular report. The in¬ 
habitants of the Isle of Grain and the adjoining 
districts of the east coast of Kent have for many 
years been collecting a white seaweed that is 
washed up along the shore, which has been used 
by London and provincial milliners as trimming 
for women’s hats. 
According to the English press this has 
grown into a profitable industry during the win¬ 
ter months when farm work was not to be had, 
but its continuance is threatened, so those in¬ 
terested claim, by the practice of trawlers, who 
attach barbed wires to their trawls and gather 
this white seaweed before it is ripe, selling the 
algae thus collected at a very low figure. In the 
ordinary way the seaweed falls off from the roots 
and is washed ashore, but the trawls pull it up 
by the roots and thus destroy the source of sup¬ 
ply as well as leaving nothing for the islanders. 
Biffed Bisbee. 
Ripogenus Lake, Me., Aug. 6 .—Editor 
Forest and Stream: Gee! Between the red- 
blooded Gill, the bilious Olive and cousin Whirl¬ 
ing, I'm having some time ! And all because I tried 
to be a little helpful. And the odd part of it is 
that the only man I directly “swatted’’ or “biffed’’ 
at, the well-meaning but twisted person who 
“went’’ “at the Beaverkill’’ most circuitously and 
by inference suggested that others do likewise, 
has so far kept hopefully silent. However, with 
your permission, I will not be so anonymously 
done. 
Just why is all this “hysterical babbling” 
(apt phrase!) about “fish hogs,” and “luring 
trout to their doom by means of spoons and even 
hand lines” and “enticing bait of some kind cast 
deftly into the favorite pool”? Not having the 
advantage of so generously buggy an ancestry as 
that avowed by the bilious Olive, I am at a dis¬ 
advantage in trying to follow his reasoning pro¬ 
cesses. Ephemeral indeed, however, must be the 
substance of any concatenating cerebration that 
leads to the conclusion that I am justly indicted 
of these offenses and of advocating a school for 
teaching “a young man to be a fish hog in one 
lesson.” The ordinary processes of rational 
ratiocination can not deduce such a conclusion 
from anything I have done, said, or written. 
Under the impression that the whirling one 
had, in some giddy moment, lost his yellow im¬ 
ported floater, I suggested a set of circumstances 
under which I advised him (in my letter to you 
of July 2 , published July 20 ), to “cast a green 
Drake dry over a rising fish.” If that isn’t the 
phrasealogy of a dry-fly purist, beat it, you brick 
heavers! 
In the face of the fact that I have used flies 
dry since 1896; that I have, so to speak, since 
that time “plucked a thistle and planted a rose, 
wherever a rose would grow”—i. e., substituted 
the dry for the wet fly wherever the use of the 
former seemed “indicated” — the bilious one’s 
smug suggestion that I “learn to use the dry-fly” 
nudges a bit my funny bone. It is a fact that I 
never saw an eyed- or a dry-fly tied true to pat¬ 
tern, until 1906, but that fact did not prevent my 
using dry such flies as I could procure, though it 
must be confessed that little of my angling dur¬ 
ing that ten years was strictly according to 
Hoyle, or Halford, for of one at least of these 
gentlemen I had never heard. 
In 1896 I lived, and had for some time lived, 
on the Pacific slope. I never carried a gun, for 
many of those about me did and they all knew 
its uses convincingly well, while the art of 
“fanning” was a deep mystery to me. My one 
weapon offensive and defensive was a devastat¬ 
ing ly ingenuous, if not vapid, grin—with oc¬ 
casionally, in a real pinch, a few well chosen 
words. Well, one day, one way or the other, or 
both, I persuaded one of the steamboat captains 
on the Columbia River to put me off at Marr’s 
Landing. I can hear now his half-smothered ex¬ 
clamation, “God help Marr,” as I floundered 
through the mud to the firmer footing of the 
high bank. For “Marr’s Landing” is, or at least 
then was, no landing at ail. It was simply a 
nice mushy mud flat, into which the boat shoved 
her nose as far as she could, and while you did 
the rest in getting yourself really landed, her 
powerful stern wheel pulled her free of the suck¬ 
ing mass. The very sound of it helped one to 
