May 29, 1909-] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
861 
however, finds it difficult to decide whether it 
is the fisherman or the bibliophile which pre¬ 
ponderates. The fish cannot complain that he 
slights them, for whenever season and weather 
are propitious he spends his spare moments 
in their society', but', on the other hand, 
whether he is at one of his fishing clubs or at 
“The Cliffs,” the business of adding to his 
library suffers no intermission. 
Mr. Fearing’s library measures well up to the 
dimensions of an angler’s idea of Fleaven. 
Picture a great L-shaped room, lighted by 
many windows, carpeted with soft Oriental 
rugs, and furnished with great easy chairs ana 
a club sofa deeply cushioned and covered with 
warm red leather. The owner’s desk is at the 
toe of the L; at the angle sits the librarian. 
Plalf way down the length of the room is 
the fireplace, encircled by a big brass fender 
along the rim of which is a seat where the 
privileged may rest and toast their shins after 
a day with the fish. 
If the array of books which line the rgom 
does not tempt to reading, one may reflect on 
the inner philosophy of the couplet on the fire¬ 
place: 
Whatever the wind, whate^r the tide, 
Here is good fishing by thW fireside. 
Hanging on the end of the long library table 
is one of tbe library’s, latest and priceless treas-' 
tires—the original probated copy of Izaak 
Walton’s will. Mr. Fearing _ obtained possess- 
sion of it as the result of an auction sale at 
London last January, and is, of course, prop¬ 
erly proud of it. It is a big piece of parch¬ 
ment, three or more feet square, but in good 
condition. The writing, well over two cen¬ 
turies old, is of fresher appearance than the un¬ 
learned in antique documents would expect. It 
could be deciphered readily by one familiar 
with the chirography and simplified spelling of 
the time. To protect it from the wear of hand¬ 
ling and the ravages of dust and air, Mr. 
Fearing had it framed in silver, with glass 
front and back. 
Another document -of Waltonian interest as 
valuable in its way as the will is the longest 
Walton holograph in existence. This is a bit of 
writing produced by the “compleat angler” 
some seven years before his death, and may 
be accepted as evidence that Walton acted as 
his own title guarantee company, the scrap 
setting forth the grounds upon which he re¬ 
tains possession of a piece of property. It is 
not easily deciphered in the original, but be¬ 
comes clear 'in the script transcription its owner 
has added to a reproduction he had made 
by Tiffany for his friends. There were twenty- 
five copies of this reproduction. The transcrip¬ 
tion reads: 
Note 
That I have besyde this lese, two asurances past 
to me of the land in Halfhed, since the first asur- 
ance, Mr. Walter Noell, has sould all his land in Halfhed 
and elsewhere after his deth) unt Th Martin Noell now 
note that if ever Th Martin Ndell’s heares come to lay 
dame unto my land in Halfhed this lese intytells me to 
all their land. And note that noe other can lay any 
dame to it. 
So that I think my selfe to have an undoubted tytell. 
Izaak Walton, 
Octo’r 23, 1G76. 
Note that I have now had peaceable possession of it. — 
22 yeares. 
On the mantel is a bit of statuary, whiclu 
{Concluded on page 887.) 
THE TOP RAIL. 
On one of my fishing trips I was marooned 
in a country inn for three days and nights by 
a steady cold rain. During that time my out¬ 
fit was, in the rain by day and behind the kitchen 
range at night. My heavy brogues were left 
under the big cannon stove in the office. Now, 
these wading shoes are worn over two pairs of 
thick woolen socks as well as the wading stock¬ 
ings, and if they were ever given a size num¬ 
ber, the dealer carefully concealed the fact from 
me, and I do not believe shoes of that size are 
numbered, anyhow; they should be designated 
by their tonnage, like a mud scow, for size 
numbers bear some relation to length, width and 
form. My brogues lack the last designation, and 
the thick soles and big iron nails add to the 
illusion. 
When I prepare for a fishing trip I place my 
suit case and creel on the floor and pile my out¬ 
fit alongside. First I put the brogues in the bag 
and fill the creel with wading stockings and 
small stuff. Then I try to get the brogues into 
the creel instead. With a good deal of effort 
one can be pounded in, but that is all, ^o back 
into the bag they go. Then the rest of the out¬ 
fit is crammed into the bag, which of course can¬ 
not be closed, and out it all comes. This ad¬ 
justment and readjustment generally takes a 
whole evening, and in the end the outfit for a 
few days’ fishing comprises suit case, creel, rod 
case and a bundle of brogues and other left¬ 
overs. From these facts you can gather that 
the b/ogues are not small. 
A plumber had wandered into the village one 
day, and seeing an opportunity, had opened a 
shop in which he displayed the nickeled and 
enameled jewelry of his craft. The landlord 
ordered^ an enameled washstand, with hot and 
cold water attachments, and while the plumber 
was installing it all the men within seven miles 
of the postoffice got wind of this important bit 
of news, and flocked to the inn to see the mar¬ 
velous improvement. Excitement ran high and 
the office was crowded every night and all day. 
They tried to help the plumber, but he did not 
encourage them, and he had a trying time in 
doing his work—elbow room was so scarce. 
It was about the time . that the excitement 
began to cool that my brogues were discovered 
under the stove. Were they the plumber’s shoes? 
No, he denied ownership in them. What were 
such things for, anyway? No one could say but 
the landlord, and he refrained from pointing me 
out as the owner. Then they fell to speculat¬ 
ing on the possible use of such shoes on the 
farm. One said the hobnails would be fine to 
prevent slipping while chopping a log in two. 
Another calc’lated that they might be worn on 
“s*ide-hills” when there was sleet on the ground, 
while a third thought they were for use in har¬ 
vesting ice. After they had been passed round 
the circle once more, someone suggested that, 
worn when laying by. corn, they could be ex¬ 
pected to crush all the weeds left behind the 
plow, while the soil would be so grilled that 
subsequent harrowing would be unnecessary. 
All agreed that they would make warm foot¬ 
wear, but why they were so wet inside puzzled 
them. 
About that time someone on the outside of 
the circle announced that the plumber had ac¬ 
tually tapped a supply of hot water, as he had 
said he would, and each one had to turn on the 
faucet marked “hot” to satisfy himself that the 
wizard had not proved to be a false prophet. 
* * * 
To the careful, plodding fly-fisher few things 
are more aggravating than that of the nervous, 
hurrying individual who bobs up, apparently 
from the ground, splashes into the water fifty 
yards away, follows the stream a short distance, 
then disappears, to disturb the favorite water 
of some other angler further along the stream. 
One cannot help thinking his actions are in¬ 
tended to spoil the chances of others rather than 
the result of bad taste and heedlessness. I 
passed such a man not long ago. He was fish¬ 
ing down while I was ascending the stream, but 
I did not enter it within 200 yards of him, think¬ 
ing he might turn about in time. 
I had been in the water only a few minutes, 
however, had covered less than fifty feet, and 
had had a rise from a trout beside a boulder 
that blocked a tiny waterfall, when there was a 
splash some twenty yards above me, and into 
the pool floundered this man. Three casts he 
made with worms under the overhanging bank, 
then he plunged on, casting once perhaps in 
every thirty feet of the stream’s length, alter¬ 
nately climbing out and dropping in until he 
was lost to sight among the hemlocks and laurels. 
Another angler who passed me later on said 
the man spoiled his fishing, too. This second 
angler was of a different type, for he saw me 
before I saw him, left the stream, passed below 
me by circling through the laurels, and sat down 
on a log to smoke and chat while we both gave 
the trout a rest. 
The handiness of the motor car is also re¬ 
sponsible now and then for annoying incidents 
in the angler’s day. On one occasion I passed 
a whole day in wading less than three miles of 
a swift and rocky stream. Near it ran a road, 
and up and down this road a party of anglers 
in a motor car passed and repassed hourly. Fre¬ 
quently, in working up a rift, I came on one or 
more of the party fishing down, and when I re¬ 
turned to a favorite stretch of water for an¬ 
other try, some of them were there. They hur¬ 
ried over the best water, returned to their car 
and went on to another stretch, roiled that and 
continued in this way, as if the covering of 
fifteen miles of water in a day was the proper 
way to fill baskets. Their activity did not as¬ 
sist me to any noticeable extent in the filling of 
my basket, but it put the trout down many times. 
;): * 
Recent comments in these columns on barb¬ 
less hooks were productive of good. Every 
other angler I meet has something to say of 
such hooks. Manufacturers who supply flies tied 
on these hooks are swamped with orders. The 
flies that I have examined are superb creations. 
But I do not like the snells. ■ They do not get 
along with the eyed flies in my box, and carry¬ 
ing an extra fly-book is a nuisance. 
Grizzly King. 
