F 
A BIG CHAUTAUQUA MUSCALLONGE. 
Frank W. Cheney, of Jamestown, New 
York, while fishing in Chautauqua Lake be¬ 
low Bemus Point, about seven o’clock in 
the evening on the 30th of October, caught 
a muscallonge weighing 42 pounds and 
two ounces. The length of the muscallonge 
was 53 inches, width 33 inches. Mr. Che¬ 
ney landed the fish within ten minutes after 
he hooked it. The weight and dimensions 
of the fish are supported by affidavits. 
LIVE FISH 3,800 FEET DOWN. 
CORRESPONDENT, writing to the 
current issue of the “Fishing Ga¬ 
zette,” describes the taking of live 
fish from the bottom of a Transvaal gold 
mine. “The fish,” he states, “were found 
in the catchment at the 900 ft. level, and 
also at the. bottom of the shaft. The par¬ 
ticular shaft from which they came is ver¬ 
tical and 3,800 ft. deep. The fact that they 
were found alive at the bottom as well 
shows, I think, that they must have been 
merely spawn when they fell. The fish I 
have seen were barbel, very light in color, 
and from 6 in. to 12 in. long, and up to 
% lb. in weight. They were not nearly as 
“black as the river barbel we get here. What 
•on earth they find at the bottom of a shaft 
in the way of food I can’t think. How¬ 
ever, they apparently thrive. Frogs and 
water-snakes are much' more common than 
fish. In exceptionally dry weather small 
bull-frogs have been seen to distend them¬ 
selves and deliberately jump down the shaft, 
apparently in search of water.” 
OREST AND STREA 
FISHING TIME IN FLORIDA 
W. Livingston Larned. 
The white sands dance and shimmer as the 
smoqth tide covers them. 
The cool lagoons lie dreaming in a sunlit 
diadem; 
And, through the tropic splendor there are 
sudden gleams of red, 
And birds of magic plumage light the green 
heights overhead. 
My rod and reel are ready, 
My day is all my ozvn. 
The fish are fine 
For any line, 
Th’ bow-sprit is a throne. 
Flirtatious breezes blowing, 
Capricious Whiting there, 
Up North, I guess it’s snowing. 
In Florida it’s fair. 
A Sportsman’s life is sunny—it’s the way 
he looks at things. 
You’ve GOT to be good-natured when 
you’re after fin or wings. 
Old Mother Nature loves ’em, and she 
opens wide th’ door 
When Man and Rod and Rifle beat a path 
to wood and shore. 
How is th’ bait there, Sonny? 
The shrimp is prime, you say. 
Then fix th’ hook, 
And have a look 
I see a trout at play. 
The air is sweet as honey, 
( They’re bitin’ at my line.) 
No mood for makin’ money: 
In Florida it’s Fine! 
I read th’ New York papers—and I’ve seen 
that “Sleet or Snow.” 
But I’m knee-deep in flowers while your 
blizzard breezes blow. 
Send down my hot-wave raiment—tell the 
coal man “Never mind.” 
I’ve left Old February and my woolen mitts 
behind. 
Lift anchor—lefs go snooping 
Down yonder-way awhile. 
I rather guess, 
We’ve got a mess 
T0 make th’ Missus smile. 
Oh, joy of lazy fishing, 
Oh, bliss of Summer sun. 
Just hear that string a-swishing! 
In Florida it’s fun. 
HOW TO WEIGH BIG FISH. 
HAT a great fight the slim little lady 
who smiles at us over the northeast 
corner of the big sting-ray in the 
October issue must have had with her 
dangerous antagonist! And what a shame 
that she hasn’t the satisfaction of knowing 
its weight. 
Next time, Mr. B., that you find your 
sixty-pound scales inadequate for your 
wife’s fish don’t despair. 
Just lay the fish on a board or shutter. 
Block up one end of the board and weigh 
the other end. Then reverse the process 
and weigh the second end of the board. 
The sum of the two weights minus the 
weight of the board is the weight of the 
fish. Keep the board as near level as pos¬ 
sible when weighing. 
It works. Try it out with a couple of 
scuttles of coal. 
Switch Reel. 
M 63 
“Waken, lords and ladies gay, 
To the greenwood haste away; 
We can show you where he lies, 
Fleet of foot and tall of size; 
We can show the marks he made 
When ’gainst the oak his antlers fray’d; 
You shall see him brought to bay; 
Waken, lords and ladies gay!” 
THE HUNTER. 
By Edgar A. Guest. 
Cheek that is tanned to the wind of the 
north, 
Body that jests at the bite of the cold, 
Limbs that are eager and strong to go forth 
Into the wilds and ways of the bold; 
Red blood that pulses and throbs in the 
veins, 
Ears that love silences better than.noise; 
Strength of the forest and health of the 
plains ; 
These the rewards that the hunter enjoys. 
Forests were ever the cradles of men; 
Manhood is born qf a kinship with trees. 
Whence shall come brave hearts and stout 
muscles, when 
Woods have made way: for our cities of 
ease ? 
Oh, do you wonder that stalwarts return 
Yearly to hark to the whispering oaks? 
’Tis for the brave days of old that they 
yearn: ' 
These are the splendors the hunter in¬ 
vokes. 
—A Heap 0’ Living. 
You are reading “Forest and Stream” 
and enjoying it. Why not furnish some of 
your friends who may not be acquainted 
with the good things in this issue, an hour 
or two of similar enjoyment? If you will 
take the trouble to send us the names of 
any of your circle of acquaintances, we will 
see that they are supplied with a sample 
copy with your compliments. 
