FOREST AND STREAM. 


[JAN. 13, 1906. 






Angling in Canada. 
(Concluded from page 23.) 
Harry now having his tackle in good shape be- 
gan to catch fish, and declared that the gentle 
art was something of a science after all. He 
made me laugh heartily when he told me about 
his impaling and landing a big black bass off the 
dock at Bass Lodge, their summer residence. 
After he had impaled the fish every one at the 
lodge wanted to take his rod and land it. It was, 
“Harry, let me have the rod: you will certainly 
lose him,” and so on for quality. I just made 
them all stand back and give me ample room, and 
then when I had the fish reeled in to about the 
length of my rod I just lifted him square out of 
his element and then arched him over my head 
with both hands, and when he struck terra firma 
with a dull thud he was knocked silly and counted 
out.” This was before Harry had taken a few 
lessons in the gentle art. He now thinks he will 
soon have his graduation papers. After having 
about depopulated our present locality of its scaly 
habitués we concluded to seek other promising 
waters some distance below. The Governor 
again wanted to seek the grass, but as I was con- 
fident we could catch larger, better and more fish 
with a gravelly bottom, he was again given the 
marble heart. He uttered no complaint, but I 
plainly saw that he would never be satisfied until 
he had angled in the grass. 
I, however, concluded to humor him by attack- 
ing the grass as the last stopping place and there 
he should have the opportunity of winning all 
the victories he deserved and taking all the big 
and little fish as they offered themselves for in- 
voluntary sacrifice. This rejection may appear 
like naval dictatorship, but it is the only way you 
can run a system when there are four in a boat 
and each one wants to rule or revolutionize. It 
is severe on the owner, but all things obey fixed 
laws. 
Norman was in luck again, for the engine was 
promptly obedient to his desires. The sunshine 
now lay mellow and warm upon the waters, while 
the blue sky was flecked with beautiful white 
clouds, and the lights and shadows changed the 
aspect of the hills every few minutes. The shift- 
ing of the helm brought the soft winds abeam 
and the bubbles along the sides winked frostily as 
they swept past, and the wake of the boat went 
far into the dance of waters astern. Again we 
anchor and the four persistent anglers were soon 
courting the attention of the pisces. I certainly 
must have had a lucky stone in my vest pocket, 
for I again had the first bite, and a savage one, 
and then when the fatal strike was made, whizz, 
whizz, whizz went the revolving reel, till at least 
fifty feet of braided line had been unrolled and 
then I thought it high time to apply the brake 
and endeavor to check his onward career. It suc- 
ceeded admirably, for he came to the top of the 
water, rolled over, splashed the water with his 
tail, and then disclosed itself as a big pike. I 
knew then that the battle would soon be over, as 
the fish is everything but gameful. It is a fierce 
dash or two and then an ignoble surrender. He 
made the expected rushes and then came along 
like a whipped cur. On his reaching the side of 
the boat Norman reached over, and on spanning 
his hand over the head of the impaled fish with 
a finger in each eye he lifted him in without a 
struggle, but as soon as he touched the bottom of 
the boat he wickedly floundered around for quite 
awhile and came near knocking the minnow 
bucket over. A tap on the head with an oar blade 
and he instantly fell asleep. 
Harry had some luck here, but Norman again 
made the mistake of impatience and lost a fine 
black bass. The Governor again lectured him on 
his one fault, haste, and, as usual, Norman vowed 
he would never be so hasty again; but he will all 
the same, and the same lecture again prevail. 
Emerson says, “Adopt the pace of nature; her 
secret is patience.” This should be instilled into 
the ambitious youth, it should really be burnt into 
his “bread pan.” 
A dead minnow being thrown into the water a 
white-winged gull pounced down on it like a 
hawk, and then the suggestion came that it would 
be a novel plan to capture a few that way, but it 
was of so barbaric a nature that it was unani- 
mously voted down. Washington Irving, in writ- 
ing of the old Alhambra in Spain, describes boys 
as fishing from its towering walls for birds with 
flies on their small hooks and as being exceed- 
ingly expert at it. 
The wind, which was rising and fanning the 
foliage, brought the lively jingle of a sheep-bell, 
the bellow of distant kine and the lonely tingle 
of a golden bird upon a golden furze. The air 
was perceptibly cooled and the waves began to 
indulge in their rhythms, and the fish showed a 
more greedy disposition. We were now getting 
quite a string of them and it began to look as if 
we were dropping into the ranks of the despised 
pot-hunter. I thought this an opportune time to 
take the Governor to his coveted bed of grass. 
where he could exemplify the practice he had 
been presenting all the morning. With this in 
view the order went out for weighing the anchor, 
and I then resigned my position as Commodore 
and turned the command over to the Governor. 
“Well,” said he when he was officially crowned, 
“we will try the grass.” And I told him that 
“Barkis is willing.” So down to the big beds of 
grass we all went, but, sad to relate, the fish were 
found much smaller and less in numbers, and 
then the Governor crawfished on his theory and 
made grateful apology for his ideas of what he 
knew about angling in the grass. otherwise he 
is a very skillful knight of the rod. 
Time was now called for dinner and lines 
reeled up and rods laid aside. And right here 
the electrical appliances revolutionized and re- 
fused to move an inch. The young student now 
had some aggravating work on hand and it was 
decidedly much harder than studying Greek verbs 
or solving mathematical problems, for the per- 
spiration, after he had the work well in hand, 
fairly rained from his visage and ran into his 
boots sufficiently to bathe his feet. It was fully 
fifteen minutes before he had brought the 
machine into subjection, and during that time 
the Governor indulged in lurid language and de- 
clared that as soon as he could get his old 
naphtha launch in order he would send this dis- 
obedient fraud to the scrap pile. Harry and I 
took in the incidents of the aggravating repair 
like a couple of lovely cherubs. We then eag- 
erly sought the beauties of cloud life, the fasci- 
nations of shore land, the roundelays of the 
woodland warbles, and intently went deep into 
floral life. which was in evidence on every side. 
as was the tender flush on nature’s animated 
face. The Governor would fume awhile then 
Norman would hammer awhile, while we whiled 
the time away in studying the outlines that ran 
into the horizon with an occasional reference to 
the decadence of the political bosses and the 
amazing cheek of our big insurance corpora- 
tions, which surpass the wonderful fables of 
Midas and Aladdin’s lamp. At last Norman gave 
a shout of victory and then we were off with 
the snowy froth rolling from her cutwater and 
dancing along in beaded revelry. Everything 
was going along smoothly till we reached the 
steamboat channel, and then there was trouble 
without end, for a breakdown was in evidence 
and steamboats of heavy tonnage were rapidly 
coming both ways, and the ireful Governor rose 
up in grand wrath and flamed like a star-loaded 
skyrocket. Norman was working for dear life 
with the boats nearing us to a danger point. 
Harry now hurriedly took the oars and made 
strenuous exertions to get the boat out of the 
channel; he was pulling against a head wind, and 
it was a toss-up if we escaped disaster. I took 
the precaution of taking off my shoes, coat and 
vest, ready for a dive and swim, and the rest 
hastily did the same. Norman was already in 
undress, all off except pants, as the work com- 
pelled it. It was hurry, hurry, hurry, with both 
oars and machinery. Harry fortunately won the 
goal, and just in time, and then we all breathed 
easier and again made our toilets and thought 
life was sweet, indeed. 
We were now just about 200 yards from Bass 
Lodge, and just as soon as the first boat washed 
us with her big waves Norman had got his elec- 
tric steed in order, and then we ran rapidly and 
happily to port. I was to take dinner at the 
Lodge, and I knew that meant an unexception- 
able one and a popping of a few corks and good 
cheer generally. 
On landing we counted our catch and found 
thirty perch, three big pike, two black bass and 
one immense rock bass. Good enough for a few 
hours’ sport, and when we considered the de- 
lightful enjoyments, the picturesque scenery, the 
exhilarating atmosphere and a grand old talk 
with Dame Nature we infinitely felt that we had 
been near that fount of joy that leads to the 
gates of the angler’s paradise. 
ALEX. STARBUCK. 
Fish and Fishing. ° 
Death of Mr. George E. Hart. 
In ForEsT AND STREAM of Oct. 28, last, there 
was an acknowledgment by Mr. Charles Hallock 
of the receipt of a beautiful time-keeper from 
Mr. George E. Hart, superintendent of the 
Waterbury Watch Company, and a reference to 
somewhat similar ones, but each designated by 
an original sporting design, and presented by 
the same gentleman, at different times, respec- 
tively, to President Roosevelt, to ex-Governor 
Russell, of Massachusetts, to Walter M. Brack- 

ett, the artist and salmon fisherman, and to the 
present writer. With what sorrow each of the 
recipients of one of these beautiful gifts, in com- 
mon with all who enjoyed the privilege of Mr. 
Hart’s acquaintanceship, have learned of the 
death of the gentle, generous angler, it is not 
easy to express. A lover of the woods from his 
earliest years, he was a frequent visitor to the 
Maine wilderness until urged to visit the Lake 
St. John country some twelve years ago by his 
friend, the late Mr. Chase, president of the 
watch company, whom I had the pleasure of in- 
troducing to the ouananiche fishing of the 
Ouiatchouan pool. Mr. Hart brought me a let- 
ter of introduction from Mr. Chase, and there- 
after we soon became fast friends. It was im- 
possible to avoid the attractiveness of that gen- 
tle soul. There was not a grain of anything that 
was sordid or selfish in his composition. His 
generous sympathy with suffering of every kind 
was such that he would have given the shirt off 
his back to relieve another’s distress. While 
confined to his home by his late fatal illness his 
thoughts were still for others’ ills rather than 
for his own. It was one of his greatest griefs 
that illness and poverty had fallen to the lot of 
some of his old Indian guides in the Lake St. 
John country. On Oct. 25 last he wrote me a 
characteristic letter in which occurs the follow- 
ing reference to one of his Montagnais guides: 
“Poor Peter! <A letter from Lake Bouchette 
says that Aimée had to bring him to his house 
from Squaw River, very sick with consumption. 
I wrote Aimée at once to give him all the 
whisky out of my locker in camp, also a pair of 
