FOREST AND STREAM. 
[JUNE 23, 1906. 

Massachusetts Anglers in Maine. 
Boston, June 6.—Editor Forest and Stream: 
Dr. L. T. Foss, of Boston, who has been passing 
several months at his cabin, the “‘Witherlick,” 
on Cupsuptic Lake, was a welcome caller upon 
your correspondent yesterday. When he left 
Boston for the lake, he felt obliged to give up 
business for a time on account of impaired 
health. He looks brown and strong, but says 
he must put in a few more weeks in the woods 
before resuming work. The doctor tells me the 
opening of the season for fishing was late, and 
until within the last ten days or so has the 
weather been such as to promote the taking of 
good catches. But now things look bright, and 
prospects of the usual life about the lakes are 
encouraging. Billy Soule, at Pleasant Island 
camps is the doctor’s near neighbor when at his 
camp. 
Mr. John G. Wright, the well-known wool 
merchant of Boston and a member of the State 
Association, with three other Bostonians report 
excellent fishing while at Grant’s Camp for a 
week. Mr. Frank C. Brown, of Boston, with 
friends from New York city and Worcester, are 
also enjoying the sport at Kennebago. 
The fishing records at Rangeley compare favor- 
ably with those of last year. The guests of one 
hotel in the first two weeks of fishing in 1g05 
registered 53 trout and salmon that weighed 
from 3 to 84% pounds. During the same period 
this year the record shows 74 fish from 3 to 9 
pounds—of these the largest square-tail was 
taken by a New Yorker and weighed 5% pounds. 
The 9-pound salmon was caught by W. W. Lee, 
of Malden. Five of the salmon ranged from 
6 to 9 pounds each. 
Mr. and Mrs. W. F. Medding, of Malden, are 
the guests of Mr. and Mrs. C. P. Stevens at 
their private camp. Mr. Medding is one of 
Beausant Commandery of Knight Templars, 
who, to the number of 100, made an excursion 
from Malden to Rangeley last Saturday. 
Prof. W. A. Packard, of Princeton, and his 
brother, Dr. C. W. Packard, of New York city, 
are making their yearly trip and enjoying good 
sport. 
Dr. S. O. Baldwin, of South Framingham, 
with Ed. Hinckey as guide; Mr. Taft, of 
Whitinsville, with Emery Haley as guide; H. 
H. Chandler, of Boston, with John Wilbur as 
guide, have all brought in handsome trophies 
of their skill. 
Rev. and Mrs. Fred A. Noble and their son, 
P. F. Noble, of St. Louis, as is their custom, 
will spend much of the summer at the Rangeleys. 
Mr. Willard Nye, Jr., of New Bedford, re- 
cently returned home from a trip to Kennebago 
much pleased with his outing. 
It is difficult to imagine anything that would 
prevent Alexander Jackson from making his 
annual pilgrimage to the lakes. He has Jess. 
Ross for his guide, and is taking his share of 
fish, 
Mr. James A. Baker, of New York, was so 
much pleased with his trip last year, that he 
takes his family, and will have his own launch 
this season. 
Mr. M. B. Damon, of Fitchburg, has returned 
home, having made a record of 11 salmon from 
3 to 5% pounds, and a 3-pound trout. 
It is a favorite side trip for Rangeley visitors 
to the Oquossoc Hatchery, and Superintendent 
Briggs shows them every courtesy. When asked 
what was the largest salmon he ever saw, he 
replied that he weighed and returned to the 
water a pair, the male weighing 18% pounds and 
the female 17%. Possibly this may explain why 
leaders, lines and rods are often broken by big 
fellows that are not landed, and gives some color 
to the oft-told tale of the biggest fish getting 
away. 
Mr. J. B Watkins, of New York, with Ernest 
Grast as guide, has taken a 9-pound salmon and 
one of 6 pounds at the Upper Dam. 
At Sweet’s Pond, New Vineyard, Mrs. F. L. 
Dyer is high line with a 7-pound salmon. 
The Megantic club house at Spider Lake and 
the numerous other camps on the preserve have 
been put in running order by Superintendent 
A. A. Berry, and are fast filling up with mem- 
bers and their families and guests. At the club 
house dock one of the guides landed a square- 
tail trout recently that weighed 5% pounds, and 
one of 34% pounds. Good luck fell to a New 
York angler and his wife, who took 46 trout 
one day on Baker Stream, 62 another day on 
Spencer, besides quite a number on King and 
Bartlett lakes. 
Clearwater records show for C. S. Robertson, 
of Boston, a 13-pound laker and for another 
Bostonian a 10-pound salmon. 
Persons particularly desirous of netting big 
salmon will do well to put in a few days at 
Lake Auburn, where fish have been taken weigh- 
ing 10 pounds and upward. 
Some very good catches are reported from 
Newfound and Asquam lakes in New Hamp- 
shire by anglers from several towns and cities 
of Massachusetts. 
Col. E. B. Parker, a Civil War veteran and 
member of the State Association, is spending a 
few days at his Vermont farm and getting all 
the trout he needs from % pound to a pound 
each from his private preserves. Through the 
courtesy of the Vermont Congressmen and 
former Commissioner J. W. Titcomb, of the 
Fisheries Bureau, the Colonel has been able 
to keep his brooks and pond well stocked for 
several years. Besides what trout he receives 
from the Government, he has been in the habit 
of buying liberally from the Plymouth Rock 
Hatchery for stocking. 
Last Monday evening was a gala night for 
the Middlesex Sportsmen’s Club, which held a 
strawberry festival in the elegant house of the 
Calumet Club at Winchester. President Edward 
S. Barker was master of ceremonies, and kept 
things moving at a lively pace throughout the 
evening. The members and their friends turned 
out from the neighboring towns to the number 
of 300 strong. Former President N. J. Hardy 
showed a large number of pictures on the screen, 
being from photos taken by him on various 
trips to the North Woods, which elicited much 
applause. Dr. J. C. Hindes gave several songs, 
and Messrs. W. G. Ailman, E. H. McHugh and 
Stanley Nichols gave pleasing specialties. This 
club is rapidly increasing its list of members. 
During the past week the State Association 
has sustained a great loss by the death of two of 
its best-known members. Hon. R. B. Roose- 
velt, of New York, has been on the list of 
honorary members since the formation of the 
society, and Hon. Roland C. Nickerson for some 
fifteen years or more. The names of such men 
are pillars of strength to any organization, and 
their places will not easily be filled. 
H. H. KImMBALt. 
On the Neversink. 
NEVERSINK, Sullivan County, N. Y.—I was be- 
ginning to grumble that the water was becoming 
warm and that the trout would soon get lazy, 
losing their splendid sporting proclivities, when 
a storm swooped down upon us on Sunday after- 
noon. The air grew much cooler, and on Mon- 
day night light frosts occurred in some of the 
valleys. Jt is not pleasant to be so cold in the 
morning when one jumps out of a warm bed, but 
this change in the weather should prolong the 
time of good fishing and reduce the temperature 
of the water considerably. I was having a de- 
lightful time on Saturday afternoon, when a 
frightful storm of wind and rain came up behind 
me and drenched me to the skin before I reached 
home, a mile away. No one was near to bother 
me, and I was so much interested in several trout 
that were rising, that I did not notice the dark, 
angry clouds gathering at my back. A big nobby 
dead weed grabbed my fly as I was skurrying 
over rocks and stones in the drenching rain, and 
held me fast for several minutes. I would not 
sacrifice that fly, no, indeed; the hackle (legs) 
is too rare and hard to get. I love our beautiful 
native brook trout, but have to acknowledge that 
the fishing is far better, much more interesting, 
since the brown trout has been introduced into 
these mountain streams. The fish average much 
larger than in the old days, and there is always 
that chance of hooking something immense that 
adds so much to the sport. As to game qualities, 
the brown trout is the peer of any fish that 
swims as long as the water is cold. I admit 
that they become lazy in summer. Twenty years 
ago a pound trout was a big fish in the Never- 
sink; the largest I ever heard of was 2lb. 50z:, 
taken by hand in a_ bennie-kill. The biggest 
native trout I ever saw here was a female, 16 
inches long, taken in July, 1898, by myself. 
I have not fished a great deal this season, yet 
l have killed three trout of 2% to 2™%lb. In old 
times I could not have done this in the Neversink 
in ten years’ fishing. All the trout of my 
acquaintance—fontinalis, fario and irideus—are 
gentlemen of the best breeding, high-spirited and 
brave. I think it absurd to decry any one of 
them. I only wish that the angler who speaks 
slightingly of the brown and rainbow trout could 
hook a 2-pounder of either species in the month 
of May on light tackle. He would have a lively, 
interesting time, and respect the species ever 
after. The sport, when the trout lie on the rifts, 
is far better than any lake fishing can afford This 
is true, also, of black bass fishing. 
This is my last letter from the Neversink; soon 
I will see the old Beaverkill once more, but I 
will arrive on that lovely river teo late for fish- 
ing. In one respect the Neversink ranks all other 
streams. No lakes, nor swamps. drain into it, 
and the water is pure as air, bright and spark- 
ling; not a stain of vegetable matter in a course 
of many miles. Many of the streams in this part 
of the country have suffered severely from great 
freshets. The Big Indian is sorrowfully unlike 
itself. Some of the large pools in the Neversink 
have disappeared entirely; others have narrowed 
and filled up until the bottom everywhere is 
plainly visible. Why is it that the changes are 
always for the worse? The streams become more 
like moutain torrents, and partake less of that 
form where pool and rift alternate, and where 
a mile of water affords abundant scope for a good 
day’s fishing. However, no disparaging word 
should be uttered. How we love those names— 
Neversink, Beaverkill, Willowemoc. Thousands 
of anglers know them and bless them with all 
their hearts. THEODORE GORDON. 

In Memory of Jas. M. Hickman. 
WHEN the autumn winds begin to shower the 
rustling myriad of crimson aid russet leaves 
upon the forest-clad earth, and when the first 
snow flakes steal noiselessly down, we know it 
is a premonition of the death that will soon 
environ nature’s failing forces, yet we do not 
realize fully the great change till the last hope 
fades in bare trees and the dirge of the wind 
whistling dismally across the snow-covered 
slopes. 
Thus it was when intelligence of the death of 
James M. Hickman—“‘Old Hick,” “Jeems 
Mackerel” or “Kingfisher,” as he was familiarly 
known to his camp comrades—came to me a 
few days ago. Anticipating fatal result from 
his failing physical powers, the news that he 
had crossed the “Great Divide,” as he was wont 
to call it, fell as a great shock upon his camp 
comrades in this locality, and upon none more 
than the writer. 
Twenty-one years ago we made our first camp ~ 
together at the mouth of Sweeny’s Creek, on 
the Intermediate Lakes, as the result of a six- 
teen-page descriptive letter of invitation he had 
given me, a total stranger, to camp and mess 
with the Kingfishers. Of the band of six who 
then tented and fished together, Uncle Danny 
Sloan, Lou Snyder and Hickman have now 
crossed the “Great Divide.” Windler is some- 
where in the far west, if alive, and Furr and 
Old Sam alone remain. Eight others, including 
Kelpie, who were from time to time added to 
the ranks, and as Kingfishers gathered around 
the table with Old Hick, and with him fished 
the waters in the great North Woods, will all, 
save one who is dead, tell the story of his 
kindly qualities, his genial traits, his devotion 
to the angling art, and will each feel a grief that 
cannot be spoken. 
James M. Hickman was a born angler. He 
was never so happy as when busy overlooking 
his tackle boxes preparatory to a trip, or when 
seeking to entice an old bronze-back warrior 
from his home in the hidings of the lake shore, 
or when telling a tale of former battles with the 
gamy denizens of the depths. He despised a 
