Forest and Stream 
Terms, $3 a Year, 10 Cts. a Copy, 
Six Months, $1.50. 
NEW YORK, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 14, 1911. 
. VOL. LXXVII—No. 16. 
1 No. 127 Franklin St.. New York. 
Sausenhamer’s Secret 
W HEN Albert G. Hollister died recently at 
Hollisterville, Wayne county, Pennsyl¬ 
vania, he left his cousin, Squire E. B. 
Hollister, as the last male of a long race of 
Hollisters in the town named for that family. 
And it is fitting that the last survivor of a 
pioneer family should be a fisherman. 
Squire E. B. Hollister lives about ten minutes’ 
walk from the postoffice in Hollisterville. He 
walks to the town twice a day for his mail, and 
the neighbors say that if he thought there was 
a possibility of getting half a dozen trout in a 
brook five miles distant, he’d do that walk also. 
Fremont Dayton Ellis lives at Ridgewood 
Heights, Brooklyn, and he goes fishing in an 
automobile, so that, if the fish do not bite in 
one stream, in ten or fifteen minutes he may be 
six or eight miles away trying his luck in an¬ 
other creek. 
Take a train any day on the Erie road, going 
by way of Honesdale, and get off at a station 
named Wimmers. It is three miles from there 
to Hollisterville. Or go by way of the Delaware, 
Lackawanna & Western road to Moscow. It is 
six miles by the latter route from Moscow to 
Hollisterville, and it is worth while getting to 
Hollisterville even if one has to walk from 
either station. 
The little hamlet sets in a bowl, and in going 
down the hill into the place on one side a good 
horseman will keep his eye on the hold-back strap 
and will be likewise observant of the traces on 
going up an equally steep ascent to get out of 
the town on the other side. There are half a 
dozen houses and one hotel in the place. 
To this village one day in July came Ellis, and 
his delight in the hotel accommodations detained 
him. Its delightful location, its low-ceilinged 
rooms, its long-shaded porch, its inviting bath 
room 12 x 18 feet—no stingy little cubby hole— 
its bar—ah! the cutest little cubby hole! Who 
can explain why the one is desired large and the 
• other preferred small? 
And the landlord! Never standing around 
with apron on and mop in hand waiting and 
anxious to serve you. But to be sought for out 
at the barn, or up in the field, and who comes 
leisurely back to the hotel, takes the key from 
h;s pocket that unlocks the bar within which is 
a key that unlocks a drawer, which discloses a 
key that unlocks a little closet with a glass front 
within which— 
Whatever the cause, Ellis tarried in Hollister¬ 
ville, and to tarry in Hollisterville is to meet 
Squire Hollister. As to the original and first 
settlers, Ellis learned this direct from the Squire: 
By HUGH C. CURRY 
“Amasa Hollister, the pioneer, was born in 
1768, and with his family drove an ox team and 
ten sheep into camp alongside the creek that still 
runs through the village in 1815, and the first 
thing he did was to chop down trees to make 
a log house, as the wolves were very fond of 
A BOULDER-STREWN TROUT BROOK. 
mutton. The second thing he did was to build 
an up-and-down sawmill.” 
“What’s an ‘up-and-down’ sawmill?” inter¬ 
rupted Ellis. 
“Well,” was the Squire’s reply, “they’ve got 
different saws now, but in those days they used 
a vertical saw, and it was ‘up to-day and down 
to-morrow,’ as the saying went. Anyhow, as I 
was saying,” continued the Squire, “grandfather 
built a sawmill. In a few years other farmers 
with girls commenced to appear, and in a short 
time there were so many Hollisters that the saw¬ 
mill had to give way to a grist mill to feed them. 
And the old mill, as you have seen, is still in 
the village, but abandoned.” 
“Yes, I have been all around the old mill,” 
replied Ellis, “and have likewise made a circuit 
of the dam. I saw an interesting relic—a tomb 
stone, in fact—planted between two trees at the 
water’s edge, and I was interested enough to 
copy the inscription. Here it is”: 
MARY 
Wife of 
Alpheus Hollister 
Died 
July 2, 1829 
/E. 32 y’rs. 
Also 
Two twin children by her side. 
“Now, who was Alpheus Hollister, and how 
did that stone get there?” asked Ellis. 
“Well, old Alpheus was an uncle of mine,” 
replied the Squire, “and after his wife died, ’way 
back there in 1829, he got that stone made and 
brought it home for some purpose or other, and 
instead of putting it in the grave yard, he set 
it there by the two water birches, which were 
little trees then, and there it has stood ever 
since. Sometimes we don’t continue to feel as 
badly as we sometimes think we’re going to.” 
After a few moments’ silence the Squire con¬ 
tinued : 
“Yes, son, I’m eighty-five years old and have 
seen many changes, but the thing that hits me 
worst is the fish question. Why, I have to walk 
four miles nowadays if I feel as though I needed 
a mess of trout. Boy, it makes me feel sad to 
think of the then and now. Trout! Just go 
over to Salem and ask Sausenhamer about trout. 
And black bass! In those days! But there’s 
no use in going after black bass nowadays, ex¬ 
cept you just hit the times when they’re bit* 
Used to be full of whoppers,” and the r ' 
gazed reminiscently away across the 
“You said,” remarked Ellis 
moments’ silence, “that it was m 
ing unless the fish were biting 
know when that will be?” 
“The place was named 
there was no other narr 
section was just overflov 
so it just naturally bee 
the Squire. 
“Yes, I sup—” 
“I’ve been Sqi 
tinued Mr. Holli 
anyone take the 
