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Ten Cents a Copy. 
NEW 

, For Forest and Stream. 
ENOCH ARDEN. 
, —_—_+—_—__ 
HIS LETTER. 
O you’ve ‘found I’m alive,” and you tell me 
You’ve doubled up agin? 
Thought the old man had petered? 
Which allow me to say is thin. 
You say how I never writ you, 
As is true enough I allow, 
Being busy one way or another; 
No matter—I'm writing now. 
Thadn’t no sort of notion, 
When I started fust out here 
That I shouldn’t a seed you sooner 
Than four and twenty year. 
But the cards they was stocked agin me, 
And the best of luck will fail; 
Was down of aguey and typus. 
and part of a year in jail. 
Which was simple parsecution, 
For the corpse wan’t robbed or stript! 
Then I lost an eye at a party, 
But his widder allowed I whipped. 
Yes, I hey had a gay experience. 
But I allus sighed for hum, 
Allus did pine for the fireside, 
And the old New England rum. 
You kin sort out the cubs of the stranger 
And gin a good fair start; 
I might be called weak to spare ‘em, 
If I hadn’t a parent’s heart, 
I’m glad he’s made over his plunder, 
And done the square thing by you; 
I could almost forgive the critter 
If his name warn’t Number Two. 
Tell him I’m coming easy, 
Me and asmooth-bore gun: 
Tell him to pack his coffin, 
And look out for Number One, J. J, Roonz, 

For Horest and Stream. 
Slotes Srom Cape Breton. 
SALMON FISHING ON THE MARGAREE, 


| Dieeace succeeding number of your most welcome paper 
reminds me of my unfulfilled promise to give your 
readers some notes of a trip made last summer to the island 
of Cape Breton which may be of interest to some who 
may be already laying out their plans as to how and where 
they will spend their next summer vacation. Last July I 
would have eagerly welcomed a plain, unvarnished tale, 
such as I now propose tc give, as a great assistance in en- 
abling me to decide the question, ‘Shall my vacation be 
spent at Cape Breton or not?” 
I left Toronto in company with two friends on the 
_., morning of Monday, July 8, reaching Portland on Tuesday 
‘ afternoon, a few hours before the departure of the steamer 
Falmouth for Halifax. We ought to have made Halifax 
the next night about 11 o’clock, but in consequence of a 
heavy fog which came on during the afternoon, we had to 
: lay to outside until the morning, and therefore did not get 
into Halifax before the departure of the morning train for 
Pictou, and this lack of connection caused us to miss the 
Thursday’s steamer from Pictou to Hawksberry, and threw 
us over until the next Tuesday. This was a serious disap- 
pointment, but we made the best of the situation by taking 
a carriage next morning from Pictou to the west branch of 
the St. John river, about eighteen miles distant, where we 
camped out beside the little rippling brook until the fol- 
lowing Monday afternoon. Here we had a most enjoyable 
time. Our tent was pitched on a knoll about two hundred 
yards trom a farm house, whose occupants furnished us 
most kindly with daily supplies of bread, delicious butter, 
’ milk and porridge, with occasional feasts of wild straw- 
, berries, “‘smothered in cream.” In this little retreat we 
, took somewhere about 400 or 500 brook trout with the 





fly, surprising the natives there by our success, for until 
then they had no idea that the fish were in such abund- 
ance. . 
On Monday afternoon we returned to Pictou, and at 
noon on the following day took the steamer Princess of 
Wales for Hawksberry on the Gut of Canso, which we 
reached about 6 o’clock that same afternoon. We had ar- 
ranged that one of our party should undertake to secure 
our seats in the stage, but we needed not to have been so 
anxious as on our arrival we found fifteen or sixteen stages 
and a host of vociferous drivers soliciting fares. One John 
McIntosh, a Highland Scotchman, secured our party of 
three, and two others filling up his old-fashioned coach, 
which like all the others was built with the body swinging 
upon leather straps, as experience proves these to be better 
adapted to mountain travel than any other form. 
Away then we started about 7 P. M., the second of a 
long procession of stages, our route lying over the moun- 
tains of the west side of Cape Breton Island for thirteen 
miles to the west bay of Lake Bras d’Or. John McIntosh 
was determined to keep his advanced post, and rattled us 
up hill and down over the narrow bridges and around 
short curves of the gloomy road which appeared like a, 
long avenue between the green firs, at a pace which kept 
my hair on end until we at last reached the tavern at West 
Bay. Here we found there was no accommodation, and 
therefore made for the little steamer Neptune and took 
possession of the main cabin, (size, 15x8 feet,) which was 
soon filled up, table, seats and floor, by the tired travelers, 
until 5 A. M., when we started to traverse Bras d’Or Lake. 
We arrived at Baddeck on the north shore of Bras d’Or 
Lake about noon. Here we took dinner at the comfort- 
able inn kept by Mr. Cowdis, «nd soon after started in his 
stage for the northeast Margaree. Our route lay across 
the mountains in a northeast direction, crossing over first 
the Baddeck river, which affords excellent trouting, but 
up which salmon do not run until September; then over 
Middle river, where gold has been found in limited quan- 
tities; then skirting the western side of a little stream, and 
of a long, narrow lake called ‘‘Lug-a-low,” or Lake of Law,; 
(which name, if either, was correct, I could not determine,) 
which lay between us and the magnificent mountains on 
the other side of the valley, until by an almost imperceptible 
about a mile we descended a steep hill, and found our- 
selves at our destination in the Margaree settlement, about: 
thirty miles from Baddeck. The evening shades had com- 
menced to close around us, and right glad were we to find 
shelter from the pouring rain and the drenching mists 
which had enveloped us during our whole journey, drench- 
ing us to the skin, and much impairing the enjoyment of 
the wondrously beautiful scenery, although the clouds of 
mist rolling over the mountain tops and down the lovely 
valleys, invested them with a grandeur and sublimity 
which fair weather and sunny skies would have failed to - 
produce. The next two days, Thursday and Friday, con- 
tinued so gloomy and wet that we were unable to perceive 
the beauty of the valley, and although in our eagerness we 
several times vainly attempted to entice a salmon out of 
the swollen and muddy river, we were glad to take refuge 
from the storm, and beside the cosy fire await the subsi- 
dence of the torrent and the return of bright weather, 
On Saturday it cleared up, but the river was still too 
swollen for sport, so that we had ample time to take note 
of our surroundings. The Margaree settlement occupies a 
level valley about seven miles long and three broad, which 
is surrounded by mountains covered with evergreens, 
scarcely, if at all, marred by the ruthless hand of civiliza- 
tion. To the south this valley is closed in by a rounded 
.*‘sugar loaf” mountain, separating it from a_ settlement 
called ‘The Big Interval,” while to the nortl» it curves 
eastward, and is bounded by a narrow gorge, through which 
the river runs to join, about three miles below, with the 
western Margaree, descending from Lake Ainslee. This 
valley is dotted over-with farm houses, small but comfort- 
able, inhabited by a simple, hospitable people, mainly of 
Scotch and American descent, whose forefathers settled 
YORK, THURSDAY, FEB. 5, 1874. 
ascent we reached the height of land, after traversing which 
{ Volume I, Number 26, 
103 Fulton Street, 
here nearly one hundred years ago, and who, shut out until 
quite recently from all intercourse with the civilized world, 
have been content with mere existence, and have allowed 
their fertile plain to run to decay, until now their farms 
consist merely of broad fields of stunted grass, smothered 
with daisies and “‘rattle grass.” Here and there may be 
seen small patches of oats, but besides these not another 
crop—no orchards, nor gardens, nor roots. Numerous 
shade trees, principally elms and evergreens, stud the 
plain, and through these winds the Margaree River, the 
perfection of a salmon river, inasmuch as it presents a suc- 
cession of deep pools and shallow rapids, with pebble bot- 
tom as clear as crystal, sheltered by trees, but without any 
impediment anywhere to the casting of a line or to the 
landing of a fish, and above all, totally free from the béte 
nor of the angler, the black fly or the mosquito. 
The importance of this latter recommendation will be 
appreciated by any salmon fisherman whose enjoyment has 
been marred or nearly annihilated by the persistent attacks 
of these ferocious insects. I know of no other river on 
this continent where a gentleman can find the shelter of a 
comfortable farm house, within half a mile from a salmon 
pool, on the banks of which his wife or daughter may re- 
pose and join in the intense excitement of hooking and 
landing a twelve or twenty pounder without any alloy from 
black fly or mosquito. This is as it might be, but I am sorry 
to be obliged to add that so little do the inhabitants appre- 
ciate the advantages which they might derive from protec- 
tion of the salmon that they all, with few exceptions, are 
in the habit of regularly spearing and netting the pools, 
to the unutterable disgust of sportsmen who have jour- 
neyed many hundreds of miles in search of health and 
recreation, and who would spend in the valley ten fold 
more than is realized by the unlawful spearing. Four 
times did these stupid people, with blackened faces, launch 
their boats miles up the river and spear every pool down 
to the very end of the valley, even in the pool at which I 
was located with a gentleman who for three or four years 
had been accustomed to spend the salmon season there. .I 
tried to impress upon the inhabitants that they were ‘‘kil]- 
ing the goose that laid the golden egg,” and that if they 
would stop their unlawful practice, advertise the advant- 
ages of the locality and routes of travel, and extend a wel- 
come to sportsmen, every house in the valley might be 
filled with gentlemen whose expenditures would amply re- 
pay them for the value of the fish they so unworthily 
killed, and whose presence would stimulate them to im- 
provement in every respect. 
Some allowance must be made for the poor people, how- 
ever, for when the patents for their lands were issued fish- 
ing rights were secured to them, and as hitherto the large 
majority of sportsmen have located in tents around the 
forks of the river, three or four miles below the settlement, 
spending little or nothing among the settlers, these natu- 
rally feel that protection of the salmon in no way interests 
them, but merely protects the sport of these transient 
pleasure seekers. I urged upon them, also, to try and ob- 
tain from the government, by purchase if necessary, con- 
trol of the river, so that they might (which I think every 
sportsman must admit to be reasonable) issue licenses for rod 
fishing, and so they would have an incentive for the pro- 
tection of the fish. With these exceptions, Iam glad to 
bear my evidence to the hospitality which I received, while 
I lament the supineness which has allowed their beautiful 
valley to run into such deplorable decay. It is to be hoped 
that the opening up of the Sidney coal fields, and increas- 
ing facilities of market with the influx of pleasure and 
health seekers, will stimulate the Margarce people to make 
this valley as it ought to be—a little paradise, 
It was too late in the season for good fishing when J ar. 
rived there; nevertheless, on the Monday after the river 
subsided, so that the water reached its proper condition, I, 
a comparative novice with salmon, secured three fish of the 
respective weights of twelve, fifteen, and twenty pounds. 
I took afterwards three more, and lost several from unskill- 
ful handling, so that I had no reason to complain when 
many inexperienced fishermen are not even so successful 
