780 
FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Nov. 16, 1907. 

The Anglers’ Conference. 
A. CONFERENCE of anglers was held in the 
American Museum of Natural History, in New 
York city, on the night of Nov. 11. Dr. Henry 
Van Dyke, of Princeton University, presided, 
and anglers from a score of States were in at- 
tendance. 
Letters of regret from President Roosevelt 
and ex-President Cleveland were read. The 
President said, among other things, that there 
are few things which a naturalist and sportsman 
should more heartily condemn than reckless and 
wasteful slaughter. To make a very large bag, 
whether of deer, or prairie chickens, or ducks, 
or quail, or woodcock, or trout, is something of 
which to be ashamed, and not to boast. 
Mr. Cleveland suggested the adoption of the 
following motto by all honest anglers: “To en- 
courage the adoption of angling methods which 
will make the wholesale slaughter of fish impos- 
sible, and increase the sport of taking a fair 
number in a fair way.” 
Dr. Van Dyke’s address was on “The True 
Sporting Spirit.’ He said: 
This is a Convention of Honest Anglers, disciples of 
Izaak Walton, who wish to promote the protection of 
game and food fishes in North American waters, and to 
maintain a high standard of sportsmanship among the 
followers of the rod and line in the United States and 
Canada. The convention has no political or financial 
entanglements, no commercial purpose to serve, no axe 
to grind, no basket to fill. It is purely a voluntar 
meeting of gentlemen who are interested in fish an 
fishing, and who have been drawn together by the true 
sporting spirit for mutual information, counsel and co- 
operation. That I have been honored with the request 
to take the chair is merely a bit of fisherman’s luck. 
It is not due to the fact that I have caught more fish or 
bigger fish than others who are present. It is simply 
because my profession imposes a strict limitation upon 
me in the telling of fish stories. 
In a company like this, which is but a small repre- 
sentation of the great fraternity of anglers all over the 
North American continent, there are men-of all trades, 
occupations and professions; statesmen, soldiers, lawyers, 
doctors, clergymen, authors, merchants, bankers, manu- 
facturers, actors, artists and artisans—all equally devoted, 
in their days off, to the ancient and gentle art of an- 
gling, That which makes them a fraternity is the true 
sporting spirit.. And as this spirit is often misunderstood 
and sometimes spoken against, I should like to open this 
convention by attempting to define it. 
The true sportsman is a man who finds his recreation 
in a fair and exciting effort to get something that is 
made for human use, in a way that involves some hard- 
ship, a little risk, a good deal of skill and patience, and 
plenty of out-of-door life. He is a survival, of course, 
of primitive man, and of uncivilized ages. He represents 


what is left of man’s ancient necessity to use the bow 
and the spear and the hook and the line to obtain the 
food which nature had put within his reach, but not 
into his possession. Nature said to him: ‘A bird in 
the bush is worth more to you than one in your hand; 
a fish in the sea is worth more to you than one in your 
basket. Go out and get them. Learn to help yourself” 
The courage, the skill, the perseverance which were de- 
manded by this effort counted for much in the develop- 
ment of the human race. And the same qualities which 
were brought out under the spur of necessity in the 
primitive hunter or fisherman, should be developed in the 
civilized sportsman by the influence of the true sporting 
spirit. He should not be a coward or a shirk; he should 
not be a bungler; he should not be a quitter or a luxu- 
rious idler. He should love a hard day’s work, and do 
his best to learn the mastery of his craft, and take steep 
trails, rough water and rude weather as they come, and 
be glad of the hours that he spends in the chase, and 
grateful for the spoil, large or small, that he brings home 
at night. 
One thing, I think, is essential. The true sportsman 
will never kill for the sake of killing. His object will 
always be to get that which is meant for human food‘or 
service in a way that gives'a chance for the exercise of 
personal pluck and skill. So long as he follows this 
rule he is in the line of common sense ethics and the 
development of healthy manhood. 
It may be that in the distant future, this line will be- 
come obsolete. It may be that men of coming genera- 
tions will get their exercise in the form of massage, and 
take their food altogether in compressed tablets. But in 
thé present stage of human evolution, while it is good 
for men to tramp the woods and follow the streams, 
while venison and trout are desirable objects of human 
food, the sportsman has his place in the social order, as 
a survival of primitive needs and an exponent of manly 
pursuits, He can afford to smile good-naturedly at the 
abuse of the sentimentalists, who cry out at the cruelty 
of ‘this sport while they feast on lamb stew and fried 
codfish balls. All he need concern himself about is to 
prove that he is a survival of the fittest by governing his 
recreation by the true sporting spirit. 
He must be an advance on_ his 
barbed arrow and the pronged spear. 
must be shown in three points: 
I. The true sportsman must recognize that the supnly 
of food which nature provides in the woods and waters, 
is something to be guarded and protected for human 
ancestor with the 
And this advance 
use. He must favor the enactment of wise and stringent 
laws to prevent the waste and extermination of these 
natural resources, either directly or indirectly by the 
pollution of waters and the destruction of the forests. 
He must favor these laws and keep them himself, 
II. He must hold himself to a strict account for the 
use of his own game and fish. He must not be greedy 
or insatiable. 
fish hog. 
ITI. He must recognize that his sport is for him not 
a matter of necessity, but a recreation, and therefore he 
must follow it as a game with rules that equalize the 
chances, and make success dependent upon skill and 
good judgment and perseverance, 
The angler who has the true sporting spirit does not 
want to be sure of landing every fish that he hooks. He 
wants to reduce his tackle to that point of fineness 
which makes the contest uncertain and therefore interest- 
ing. He does not want to show how many fish he can 
haul in by main force in a single day. He wants to learn 
how to persuade a reluctant trout, how to land a dif- 
cult salmon with a light line, a steady hand, a cool head, 
in the quickest and most painless method. He does not 
even want to make a big basket, a record catch of num- 
bers. That is not his primary object. What. he wants 
is to take a fair number of fish in a fair way, and to 
have the exhilaration, the freedom, the strengthening 
and restoring joy of a‘ good long day out of doors. And 
sO we Say, success and happiness in the sporting spirit 
to all honest anglers. 
Dr. Tarleton H. Bean, State Fish Culturist of 
New York, read a paper on “Fish Culture in New 
York.” 
Charles Hallock spoke on “The Honorable 
Robert B. Roosevelt and Uncle Thad. Norris” 
and the results of the work they accomplished. 
“The Great Game Fishes of the Pacific Coast, 
and How They Have Been Protected,’ by Prof. 
Charles Frederick Holder, was read by Dr. H.C. 
Bumpus, as its author could not be present be- 
cause of illness. 
Dr. Barton W. Evermann, of the United States 
Bureau of Fisheries, lectured on the golden trout 
and Mount Whitney, illustrating his remarks 
with dissolving views. 
There was not time to read Dr. A. J. Hen- 
shall’s paper, ‘““A Plea for the Protection of Game 
and Food Fish in Inland Waters,” and the same 
fate befell Dr. David Starr Jordan’s “Grayling 
at Caribou Crossing.” 
Lack of time prevents us from publishing these 
papers now, but they will appear, in whole or in 
part, in subsequent issues. 
Dr. Van Dyke said he thought too much had 
been done for the fresh water fishermen and too 
little for the salt water anglers. Not enough 
attention had been given to the game fishes along 
the Canadian border. He thought an associa- 
tion of individuals should be organized. He re- 
ferred to the National Association of Scientific 
Angling Clubs as an organization composed only 
of clubs, and pointed out that unattached anglers 
could not become members of it. There was 
need of a body to take care of the interests of 
the individual anglers, and suggested as a name 
“The North American Association of Honest 
Anglers.” He thought a committe of twenty 
might be appointed, to meet at some subsequent 
time, and discuss ways and means. 
His call for nominations resulted in the pre- 
sentation of the following names: 
Dr. H. C. Bumpus, of the American Museum; 
Charles Hallock, of Washington; Robert B. Law- 
rence, J. Alden Weir, Perry D. Frazer, Nathaniel 
S. Smith and C. G. Levison, of the Anglers’ Club 
of New York; Charles F. Holder, L. P. Streeter 
and F. L. Harding, of the Santa Catalina Island 
Tuna Club;- Dr. ° Bean, Dr: Van Dyke, G L. 
Plimley, Dr. W. M. Vilas, Dr. Evermann, J. M. 
Kemble, S. E. Locke, Charles H. Berry, M. G. 
Sellers, Harrison Elliott, C. W. Bosworth and 
R. W, Ammunden. 
Their election was by acclamation, and it was 
decided that they should meet at the call of the 
chairman, probably early in December. 
He must not be a game butcher or a 

The Cogitativé Bass Crank. 
Aspury Park, N. J., Nov. 2—Editor Forest 
and Stream: I inclosé you a copy of a short 
piece written by our fellow club member, Mr. 
Jos. B. Cawthorn, for one of the local papers: 
R. H. Norris, Sec’y. 
I’ve been thinking, sadly thinking, 
As these autumn evenings pass, 
Of my time and money wasted 
In pursuing striped bass. 
For the cash that I have spent 
On bait and tackle, I’ll be bound, 
I could buy a whole fish market 
And put in a private pound, 
Shedder crabs and bloodworms 
I’ve purchased by the ton; 
. 





I’ve stood for hours on the beach, 
Been parboiled by the sun. 
I’ve tramped the sands in rubber boots 
Till I was nearly dead, 
Digging big holes in the ocean 
With a four-ounce chunk of lead. 
I’ve fouled and ‘‘busted” rod and reel, 
And cast along the shore 
Of leaders, swivels, hooks and leads, 
A million, maybe more, 
I’ve neglected friends and relatives, 
My business, home and wife, 
I’ve bought tackle till John Seger 
Has a mortgage on my life. 




















































































































And what have I to show 
For all the waste of energy 
After flirting all last summer 
With this measly, stingy sea? 
Toad fish, skates and robins, 
I can aiways yank them in; 
Dog sharks, by the thousand, 
But of stripers, not a fin. 
At night I dream of zebras, 
And convicts, of all types; 
American flags and barber poles, 
Everything with stripes. 
I dream I’m fishing for them all, 
I’m a Jonah sure, it seems; 
It’s pretty tough, for I can’t 
Even catch them in my dreams. 
And then I sit and listen 
For hours at a stretch, 
While the old-time anglers ’round here 
Tell of fish they used to catch, 
“Uncle Bill’ will tell you, 
How he started out at noon, 
And by six o’clock had 
Eighty-seven stripers on the flume. 

Fenimore says: ‘“That’s nothing, 
When the wind was in the south, 
I could always drop a bloodwoom 
In a sixty-pounder’s mouth.” 
Then Jim Edge gets started, 
And usually ends the bout, 
Jim is certainly a corker, 
When he starts to hand them out. 
And so I sit and listen, 
After all they’re not to blame, 2 
When I’ve fished as long as they have, 
I suppose I’ll lie the same. 
They all believe each other, 
So there’s never any squalls, 
But they can’t say “Mississippi” 
When they come from Tinton Falls. 
The bass ran fine last summer; 
No one stopped them you can bet, 
And, from Seger’s list, I reckon, 
That they’re running somewhere yet. | 
It’s really quite pathetic 
How we fishermen hope on } 
For a year of real good fishing 
Like we had in seasons gone. 
I have sworn by all the gods 
That I will never fish again; 
Sut if I’m alive next summer 
Its a good bet, just the same, 
You'll find me somewhere on the beach, 
And perhaps you’ll hear me swear, 
As I stand and fish for hours 
For the bass that isn’t there. 
And when my time has come t 
To shuffle off this mortal coil, 
And leave behind my fishing days 
And other care and toil, 
When I cross the River Jordan, 
If it’s rough, or smooth as glass, 
I'll be sitting in the stern sheet, 
Trolling for a bass. 


Another Casting Club. 
THE anglers of Greenville, Pa., are taking the 
first steps toward the organization in that city] 
of a fly- and bait-casting club, and as they have 
a large number of anglers to draw from, it is! 
likely a satisfactory number will join with the | 
promoters in their efforts to carry the movement 
to a successful conclusion. 

