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Terms, Five Dollars a Year. } } Volume I, Number 22, 
Rares raion wh NEW YORK, THURSDAY, JAN. 8, 1874. fetes 
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; for Forest and Stream. + + + ‘ , + ° A , 
f : f’. Fel 3 our camp, (six miles below Lake City) that would not 
DHE SPECTRE MULETEER. ishing ul Lake ep uy. weigh one pound less than 40 weight. The water on the 

——~—_—_- 
OHN MAULER waaa gondolier 
On Erie’s verdant shore, 
His walk was humble, but his gait 
Was something to adore. 
The locksman’s lovely daughter had 
For him a passion strong, 
And though she was quite short and small 
He vowed he loved her long. 
Love’s course is often sweet and mild, 
And like the limpid wave 
Of calm canals, whose rippling tides 
Their soft embankments lave. 
But crosses come, as freshets do, 
And cruel sires there be, 
Unfeeling guardians whose walds 
Are always under key. 
Her father’s haughty castle stood 
Beside the fair Mohawk; 
He didn’t lock her in the keep, 
But kept her in the lock. 
“Think not to wed a driver low! 
Thou art too rare a prize; 
Canalers to canaille may stoop, 
But not to wed-lock rise.’’! 
So spake her parent scornfully, 
The maiden heard in fear, 
And when he laughed his horsey laugh 
She dropped her muleteer. 
“Oh Sarah Jane!” her lover cried, 
‘“My honest love you scorn, 
And since youv’e given me the sack, 
Tl take it in a horn.” 
John Mauler’s manly heart grew weak, 
For gin and grief soon shook it, 
And when his mule kicked in his side, 
He sighed and kicked the bucket. 
The lovely maiden pined away, 
And said, with many a tear, 
Although he’s gone before, I'll stay 
And bc his pioneer.”’ 
The locksman lives a changed man 
With sorrow in his eyes, 
For every night his hair turns white, 
And every morn he dyes. 
For in the hour when nature sleeps 
And bargemen blithely swear, 
A grim procession wakens him 
And elevates his hair. 
A ghostly barge, a spectre mule, 
A phantom driver grim 
Beside the haunted lock are seen 
To pass an hour with him. 
Their purpose is a paradox 
To make the blood run cold, 
For though they go without a word 
They’re waiting to be tolled. 
And then the spectre barge departs 
Along the sluggish pool, 
Beside a fleshless driver, and 
Behind a bloodless mule. 
Past Syracuse and Utica, 
And Tlion’s ancient walls, 
And where the mighty Mohawk flows 
From Rome to Little Falls. 
a 
Till boat, and mu e, and driver fade 
Before the sun’s bright face; 
The very harness vanishes - 
Nor leaves a broken trace. 
But Richfield convalescents say 
That every morn they find 
Some extra sulphur in the springs, 
And brimstone in the wind. 
MORAL. 
To frown on humble love is wrong, 
To thwart it is a sin; 
Don’t ever fool around a mule, 
Nor mix your grief with gin. 
J. 
J. 

Minnesota, December 27, 1875. 
EDITOR FOREST AND STREAM :-— 
Perhaps no body of water exists on this continent more 
picturesque than Lake Pepin. Such wild and beautiful 
scenery, such beautiful pebbly skirted shores, I have never 
seen elsewhere. Here the angler may sit down to rest or 
lunch, and from all around him pick up beautiful agates, 
cornelias, onyx, sardonyx, chalcedony, jasper and many 
other gems that would adorn his centre table, or any cabi- 
net in the land. Right over his head rise to a height of 
four hundred fect the bluffs that skirt this lake, and which 
add so much to its fine scenery. The angler who is a stu- 
dent of natural history could not possibly find a place more 
suitable to his taste. 
Mascalonge fishing in this lake is, in good season, (a good 
season means low water) as good as in any other lake or 
river in this part of the States. They are usually of large 
size, from 10 to 40 pounds weight. Our manner of taking 
them does not differ materially from that practiced in other 
waters, except, perhaps in the fact that trolling from a boat 
is not generally successful. Oliver Gibbs, Esb., (author of 
Lake Pepin Fish Chowder) and myself have fished on this 
lake for many years, and our largest fish and best catches 
have been taken with rod and line, from the shore, or by 
wading out upon the bars. Many a hard fought battle we 
have had with these voracious monsters, while standing 
hip-deep in the water. For excitement no angling can 
compare with this manner of taking mascalonge. To kill 
in this manner a 80 pounder and tow him ten or thirty rods 
to shore requires nerve and strength, great skill, and very 
strong tackle. Many of the very largest are frequently 
lost by weak tackle and unskillful playing. The largest 
one I ever succeeded in saving weighed 294 pounds, and 
took me three-quarters of an hour to land. I waded deep 
for this fellow, and was at least 20 rods from the shore 
when he struck my hooks. He fought magnificently, but 
my long experience, springy rod, and strong line told on 
him. I have had longer battles; never one so wild and ex- 
citing. 
For years I found it very difficult to find rods that would 
stand this kind of fishing. At last I set myself up as an 
amateur rod maker for my own benefit. Obtaining some 
of our best native timber, I have made rods that have nev- 
er yet failed me or my friends. I always supply myself 
with at least half a dozen large spoons of different colors 
and styles, metals, silver, brass and copper, all dressed 
with feathers of different colors. I make all these spoons 
myself, and think I can satisfy the most fastidious “long- 
snout.”” WhenI hook a mascalonge cr pickerel and lose 
him, I at once rest the pool for a few minutes, (there is no 
danger of his leaving) then changing my spoon to another 
color, I wade out and commence casting again. And in 
nine cases out of ten I will get my fish. Often I have 
changed my bait four or five times, and as many times had 
him on and off, but finally succeeded in landing him. A 
piece of the belly of a fish makes the best of all bait forthe 
mascalonge if properly cut, so that it wi!l spin nicely. 
They will often take it when spoons are no temptation. 
There was an old 15-pounder which laid just in front of my 
residence, (they will lie for days in the same place) and not 
having time to pay this, one of my best friends, a visit, 
several anglers did, and tried long and hard to capture him 
with spoons. He was hooked perhaps a dozen times, and 
as many times lost until he would pay no attention to 
spoon victuals. When my friend Mr. Gibbs learned how 
the matter stood, he took the situation in at once, and 
rigging up, well and strong, and cutting a piece of the belly 
of a fish, four inches long and a half inch wide, and nicely 
shaping it and putting the hook through the largest end, 
he proceeded to business. One cast was sufficient. The fish 
was securely hooked, and after a long and desperate fight 
was safely brought to gaff. He was the highest colored 
and the most beautiful fish of the kind I ever saw. Mr. 
Rooms. Gibbs and myself once saw a very large mascalonge near 


bar where he lay was clear and shallow, and we could see 
him very plainly. For two days we tried to coax him to 
bite at something, but he paid no attention to our plain or 
gaudy allurements. We could wade nearly up to him, and 
once Mr. Gibbs becoming disgusted with the old sluggard 
waded right up and gave him a kick. It wasan old hotster, 
and sent Mr. Esox writhing and plunging over the bar, but 
in less than one hour he was back to his old haunts again. 
Near the close of the third day, I determined to change 
tactics on him, and make a final effort to capture him. So 
going to camp I tied a gang of three large hooks, and tak- 
ing three small fish five or six inches long, I hooked one of 
them through the lips on each hook. And then wading 
out so that I could toss my bait just beyond him, I made 
my cast and commenced drawing in. As quick asa flash 
of lightning there was a rush and my three fish were in his 
gullet, and my hooks fast in his vitals. Great guns! What 
plunging, leaping and foaming of waters! What runs; now 
one hundred feet out, then fifty feet reeled, then another 
hundred feet out; another half hour of coaxing, until sev- 
enty-five feet of line is gathered on the reel. Another leap- 
ing out of the water, opening his huge jaws and shaking 
his head, and now another plunging and terrific run of one 
hundred and fifty feet. He has now all the line; it cannot 
stand the strain; he pulls like an army mule. He was held 
but a moment, the line parted, and he was gone forever, 
Sick and disgusted we reeled up and retired to camp where 
we both needed medical attendance the night long. 
During the latter part of the season just past, great num- 
bers of black bass have been taken in this lake. A friend 
of mine caught seventy in less than six hours. This was a 
big catch, but I have more than once nearly equalled it. 
A favorite method with many is to troll from a boat with 
as many lines out as can be conveniently “handled, with 
spoon or minnows for bait. But I much prefer to fish with 
the fly from the shore or by wading the bars. I make my 
own flies, of which I have a great variety. Bass are not as 
particular in their selection as trout. I do not remember 
that I ever tried a fly that bass would not take. If the 
waters are very clear, most any brown or even very dark 
fly will answer. If the water is turbid, or the waves very 
high, I then prefer a more gaudy fly. A very killing fly is 
made with red zephyr body, then first a pair of scarlet or 
red wings, then over these a pair of light or dark drake 
wings. This gives a shade that is obtained in no other 
way. Another splendid fly is made ‘by putting on first a 
pair of clear white wings, and over these a reddish brown 
or scarlet. I send youa sample of Lake Pepin bags flies. 
You will see that they are large, dressed on strong Nos. 1 
and 2 hooks. Iuse my trout bait rod; it is of the very 
best timber, light, but very springy. I rig my cast precise- 
ly as for trout, except my leader is made of the largest and 
strongest gut, always using three flies to a cast. Well sup- 
plied with a good number and variety of flies, with plenty 
of other extra tackle, and also a strong cord six or eight 
feet long, on which to string my fish, I commence business 
by casting right, left and ahead over the bars. Sometimes 
these bars are.of great extent, and will give one some wad- 
ing before he finds his fish. But the bottom is clean hard 
packed sand, so that the wading is neither difficult or un- 
pleasant. Sometimes you are so far out that to tow ashore 
and land every fish, although giving good sport, wouid con- 
sume too much time. In this case I tie the cord some- 
where to my body, string my fish on this as I catch them 
and stand my ground so long as a fish'is to be taken. In 
this way one will clear the whole school. Only once did I 
succeed in securing three at one cast; these three weighed 
10% pounds. Many times I have taken two at one time 
and if the fish are plenty and feeling well, this can be done’ 
in almost every case by playing well the first one hooked 
until another bites. When the second is on I try to pre- 
vent another from striking the third fly. Three black base 
are too much for light tackle and something will be sure to 
give way. Therefore to hook the third one is generally 
equivalent to hooking them all. Every angler knows the 
