458 
FOREST 
AND STREAM 
August, 1918 
TROUT FISHING IN NOVA SCOTIAN LAKES 
IN THE HIELAN’S OF NEW SCOTLAND ARE WATERS TEEMING WITH CRIMSON SPOTTED 
TROUT THAT HAVE NEVER KNOWN THE ARTFUL TEMPTATION OF A FEATHER FLY 
By W. M. BROWN 
T HROUGH a window in my office, a 
small beam of sunshine finds its way 
from beyond a narrow opening in the 
big buildings at the rear, and striking 
through a faceted glass door knob casts a 
quivering splash of rainbow coloring on the 
marble floor close to my desk. Now this 
beautiful display of color comes but twice 
a year—early in March and October—and 
remains with me but a few minutes for a 
space of two days. For the past nineteen 
years this color display has always roused 
in me, in the spring, the “Call of the 
Wild,” and in the autumn the “Call of the 
Coal Bin.” Of the latter we have nothing 
to say now, but of the former all sorts of 
visions of Forest and Stream are flashed 
out of the parti-colored splotch. For with¬ 
out doubt, the sun has moved along 
towards spring—and towards summer—and 
towards fishing. Then comes the feeling 
that it is absolutely necessary the tackle 
should be got out and over-hauled, that let¬ 
ters should be written to Ned and Bert in 
their far off Nova 
Scotia home, that plans, 
plans, and more plans 
should be made, to be 
broken up later by 
some better ones, and 
so on, de capo, till 
June and the good ship 
“Prince Arthur’’ sees 
us on our way to the 
realization of our 
springtime dreams. 
So it was with the 
writer on the tenth of 
June, and so he hopes 
it may be for many 
Junes to come—though 
he is getting to be al¬ 
most an old man. 
A delightful sail 
across the Bay of 
Fundy beginning at 2 
P. M. landed us, at 6 
A. M. next day, at the 
good old town of 
Yarmouth, where 
everyone is much in¬ 
terested in your ex¬ 
pected success, and 
much delighted (on 
your return) with the 
accomplishment of the 
same, for Yarmouth- 
ites are nothing if they 
are not friendly to all 
acquaintances, both 
old and new, and ever 
ready to give you a 
“Good Time” as long 
as you tarry within 
their gates. But the 
trip across cannot be 
passed over in this 
casual style, as in my 
estimation it comprises 
no small quota of the 
pleasure of our vaca¬ 
tion. The ship is 
the houses are so white. The summer 
homes on the long promontory you turned 
at the light house, are charming in their 
locations and surroundings, and in fact, 
everything is “Couleur de rose” for are 
we not on the verge of that “happy hunt¬ 
ing ground,” where for days we expect to 
slough the outer symbols of civilization 
and revel in that close communion with 
Nature so dear to every angler. 
After passing the Customs, whose kind¬ 
ly officers seem to be more interested in 
your prospects for a good fishing trip than 
in whether you have bombs or other con¬ 
traband in 3'our duffle, we return to the 
steamer to enjoy a good hearty breakfast. 
Should }ou feel, however, like stretching 
your legs a little, a short' walk lands you 
at the handsome little “Grand Hotel” 
where, unlike “Bailey Nichol Jarvis” in 
“Roy Roy” you CAN • “Expect aw the 
comforts o’ the Sautmarket in the hielan’s 
of (New 7 ) Scotland.” 
The train, which comes down on the 
wharf, leaves at 9:3d 1 
A. M. and a short trip-, 
by rail lands you at 
Brazil Lake. From 
this point travel is- 
entirely by horse rig, 
or “Shank’s mare,” as 
3011 move off abruptly 
at this point from the 
civilzation of railroads., 
to hear and see noth¬ 
ing of them for the 
length of your trip. 
Luckily for me a very 
kindly English friend, 
whom I had met on 
the previous 3 7 ear, met 
me at the wharf with 
his car, so that long 
before the train was 
ready to start, we were 
many miles on our wa3 7 
to “God’s own coun¬ 
try.” Arrangements 
for autos can be made 
by anyone, as Yar¬ 
mouth is well stocked 
with cars that can be 
had at most reasonable 
rates, to carry 3 r ou 
over the first stage of 
3'our trip. Roads are 
fair, but not like our 
boulevards, but what 
do we care as long as 
we are going a-fishing. 
The country along 
the road is very beau¬ 
tiful. being varied in 
lakes, streams and low 
wooded hills, and as 
we rush through the 
villages of Milton, He¬ 
bron and Caralton and 
the country becomes 
wilder and wdlder, our 
spirits soar higher and 
higher till u 7 e verily 
staunch and comfortable, the officers are 
friendly, and being good sportsmen, are 
much interested in 3 7 0u. The dinner (a-la 
carte) at 5 P. M. is good. The sea is 
(usually at this season) calm, and the 
smoke after that good dinner is good, as 
3 r ou gaze in raptures at the never failing 
grandeur of the great orange colored sun 
“going to rest in the western ocean.” If 
30U are in luck, as we were on this trip, 
a school of black-fish (small whales) adds 
to the interest of 3'our after-dinner stroll 
along the decks. Then if you like it, “Rag¬ 
time” music on the music room piano, 
rendered by the ever present female artist 
(?). Then to bed (on the usual shelf) 
and up by sun-rise in the morning to 
watch for the “promised land.” Past the 
light house, perched on its wild rocky 
promontory, and up the ba3 7 towards the 
wharf. 
The first view of Yarmouth is beauti¬ 
ful indeed—the low hills about it are so 
green (fog-fed) and in the early sunlight 
Map showing relative location of places mentioned in the story 
