. 
JAN. 27, 1906.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 

too, upon the praise and the excellencies of. 
angling, but though its style is a rather poor 
imitation of Walton’s, there is much of it that 
is, as Mr. Samuels has intimated, quite quotable. 
The author was a keen observer, and his hints 
as to the avoidance of shadows cast upon the 
water by the sun, etc., are of considerable in- 
terest to anglers. 
Fly-Casting at the Sportsmen’s Show. 
In common with all angling visitors to the 
recent Sportsmen’s Show in Boston, I was very 
much interested in the daily exhibits of fly-cast- 
ing over the artificial pond. Unfortunately, 
however, this feature of the exhibition was very 
far from being. what it might have been owing 
to the limited size of the pond. Messrs. R. C. 
Leonard and Ed. Mills came over from New 
York purposely to enter in the long-distance 
fly-casting competition, and upon their arrival 
found that the total length of the trout pond 
was one of 100 feet, while each of the would-be 
contestants just mentioned have records of some 
128 feet. It was therefore impossible for them 
to do themselves justice in this class. I was 
rather surprised at the youthful appearance of 
Mr. Mills, notwithstanding the fact that I was 
familiar with his appearance as depicted in the 
English sporting papers last year, when he won 
a number of prizes for America in the London 
fly-casting competitions. The fly-casting exhi- 
bitions of Mr. Lou. Darling interested a large 
number of spectators. Perhaps the most in- 
teresting events in the various competitions, 
however, were the contests for delicacy and 
accuracy in fly-casting on Friday night, Jan. 5, 
at which Dr. F. M. Johnson and Dr. Heber 
Bishop were judges. 
It was quite amusing to notice the freedom 
with which the captive trout in the pond would 
rise at times to the casters’ flies. Once or twice 
Mr. Darling’s casts were spoiled by the holding 
on of the fish to the fly while he was with- 
drawing his line from the water. Of course 
whenever a fly was used at all upon the end of 
the line, the point of the hook was broken away, 
so that no fish which rose should be retained, 
but even so, some of the trout held on quite 
bravely to the barbless hook and fly. Those 
trout were no more prevented from rising at 
the fly by the visible presence of hundreds of 
people around the pond than are the captive 
salmon in the retaining ponds at Tadoussac, but 
what was rather surprising to me was the readi- 
ness with which the fish rose as well under the 
electric lights at night as in the daytime. 
E. T. D. CHAMBERS. 
A Notable Quartette of Anglers. 

Z. Joncas, Geo.: E. Hart, Walter M. Brackett 
and E. T. D. Chambers. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
1 send this interesting photograph of notable 
anglers, Joncas, Hart, Brackett and Chambers. 
Two of the four have passed away. Walter 
Brackett “skips the gutter’ at eighty-two. Per- 
haps I have given him a year too much, but it 
won’t take long for him to catch up. He and his 
brother, E. A. Brackett, of Winchester, Mass., 
who is still State Fish Commissioner after a ser- 
vice of thirty-six years, are remarkable examples 
of lusty longevity. Walter, wielding the heavy 
salmon rod by the hour at eighty-one, and the 
elder writing and publishing essays and poems at 
eighty-four. He is now eighty-six. 
We did not anticipate so immediate a call for 
Mr. Hart, though his correspondence has been 
done in pencil strokes for months. Vale! amici. 
CHARLES HALLOCK. 
NorFo.ix, Va., Jan. 13. : 
BozEMAN, Mont., Jan. 16.—FoREST AND 
STREAM in its new form cannot fail to please 
every reader of that favorite journal. In its 
new dress and make-up it is equal to the best 
journals of the day. The big tree on the front 
page of the last issue is extremely interesting. 
J. A. HENSHALL. 
Winter Fishing on the Jersey Coast. 
Aspury Park, N. J.. Jan. 13—Nct in many 
years has winter fishing been equal to the pres- 
ent along the New Jersey coast. The remark- 
ably mild weather of late autumn held the weak- 
fish until well along in November; and as a 
curious incident, they were still here in limited 
numbers when the early run of cod and other 
winter varieties made their appearance. While 
the whiting have been fairly plentiful, and good 
catches have been made periodically, still they 
have not been with us in such prodigious num- 
bers as the cod and haddock. The fishermen 
have reaped a rich reward. 
It has been my good fortune to pay many 
visits to the favorite grounds and watch with 
deep interest the setting and lifting of the trawl 
lines, each one holding anywhere from 500 to 
1,500 hooks, each hook baited with a clam. The 

DR. TARLETON H. BEAN, 
State Fishculturist of New York. 
spot where the line is first anchored to pay out 
is marked by a buoy, on top of which a flag 
is attached to a 3-foot staff, each fishing crew 
having their own particular flag, which is as 
deeply respected as the ensigns of nations. 
Then on, at intervals, other buoys and flags 
are placed, so that the exact course of each 
trawl may be seen, and so the fishermen may 
avoid other lines being laid across them. It 
has been the custom in former years to set the 
trawl one day and lift them the next. It has 
not been necessary the present season to do so. 
After a wait of two or three hours, the lifting 
is begun, and it is usually long enough to have 
a fish to each hook or else the bait gone. 
While in most winters it has been necessary 
to go from four to seven miles to sea for suc- 
cessful cod fishing, the fish have worked so 
close in shore that heavy catches have been 
made within one mile of the beach. The best 
grounds, however, are now about three miles 
at sea on the mussel beds. 
While it requires a considerable amount of 
courage to leave a warm bed on a winter morn- 
ing while the stars are yet aglow, and put to 
sea in an 18-foot powerboat, seats and all ex- 
posed parts aglitter with frost, yet the bracing 
freedom it brings to the mind tired out with 
ledger columns and pay rolls is great. And 
then the happy abandon of the crew of sturdy 
men, each rigidly observing the rights of others, 
yet chaffing each other in robust terms at every 
opportunity, is relaxing. 
I do not want to be misunderstood. I am 
not going to try to make of the codfish a game 
fish in the sense that he will rise to a coach- 
man or brown-hackle; but that he will take an 
14! 

artificial lure I hereby affirm. Recalling some 
of the stories of gold watches, lamp burners and 
other more or less valuable junk recovered from 
their stomachs, I bethought me of a common 
bluefish squid and the brightest of vermilion 
paint; and the combination is a success. Two 
coats of paint and one of varnish on the squid 
appears to be the proper thing to save all bait- 
ing, which is a not very pleasant duty on a 
bitterly cold day in a small open boat, where 
no shelter can be had. There was considerable 
merriment on board the launch Raven the morn- 
ing I first displayed my innovation; but when I 
had taken five codfish and five haddock before 
either of those using bait had secured a strike, 
incredulity changed to admiration. My lure has 
continued to take at least two fish to each one 
taken by.bait since that time. It is much more 
comfortable and rapid than baiting, as one can 
use gloves and keep the hands warm. The cod- 
fish and haddock being bottom feeders, it is only 
necessary to let the squid run until it strikes the 
bottom; then reel up, say three or four feet, 
then keep the squid in motion by sharply twitch- 
ing the rod precisely as in jigging for weak- 
fish, when, if cod or haddock are about, the re- 
ward will be early. LEeonArD HUuL_IT. 

Told on the Way. 
A VENERABLE but chance acquaintance and | 
had been coloring our corncobs and_ silently 
watching the swift-moving, fleecy clouds drift 
over the full round silvery moon, but the to- 
bacco got low, my friend thumped his pipe on 
his boot and asked, “Which way are you tramp- 
ing in the morning?” 
“Thought I would try that little stream off 
east of here.” 
“Well, if that’s yer lay, I can give yer. a lift 
if yer’ll git up airly and don’t object to riding 
on a road cart, but yer must roust out afore 8 
o’clock, as I mean to start at 6 sure.” 
“Thanks, my dear sir, that will suit my com- 
plexion to a dot and match my walking apparatus 
to a charm. As for the road cart, if it is not one 
of my make I’ll chance it.” 
Five minutes past 6 the next morning we were 
on the road. The old man was a trifle criss-cross 
at first, the mare was a bit frisky, his brierwood 
a trifle stubborn. However, the sandy road soon 
dampened the ardor of one and a 10-pound suc- 
tion drew the obstructions from the stem of the 
other, then the old man’s face beamed; he was 
himself again. 
“See that house over yonder 
bunch of pines?” 
“If you mean that one where half of the chim- 
ney top is gone, I do certainly.” 
“Well, the meanest man I ever heard tell on 
used to live thare. Folks said he was so con- 
densed mean that shingles on his roof: wouldn’t 
shed rain and his one winder let in no light. He 
used to go to meeting up in the village and to 
git rid of paying anything he’d make his folks 
sit in the wagon, or, if it was cold or stormy, 
make ’em stand up in the entry during the whole 
sarvice. Never went into a pew for years. Why, 
blast him, he used to water and skim the sour 
milk he fed to his hogs. 
“The man that jined farms with him on the 
east lost a barn and a lot of grain and feed, barn 
was struck by lightning and all burned up. The 
hull neighborhood turned out and helped him git 
out new timber. Raising day we all went to help. 
Somehow or other that air cuss was there. He 
ate three good meals and carried home his pock- 
ets full of grub, then the very next day put in a 
bill dollar and a half for his work. 
“He’d a lot of bees onct. Somehow he got it 
into his leetle head that they didn’t work hours 
enough, so he’d git up afore it were daylight, take 
a club and pound on the hives to wake ’em up 
and make ’em git out and git to work. He got 
‘em larnt arter awhile so as he didn’t have to 
wake ’em up; then the leetle cuss weren’t satis- 
fied; darned ef he didn’t try to cross ’em with a 
lightning bug so as they’d work nights. See that 
air cow-path over that little rise? That leads 
into an old loggin’ road and that road crosses 
yer stream “bout half a mile from here. Hope 
you'll have good luck. Git up, Maria.” A. W. 
jest agin that 
