402 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
a A SSE SR 5 = IP ROSS SSE 8 ae  gee 

If spearing had not been so unremittingly practiced, I am 
confident I would have taken three times the number, but 
so disgusted was I that for days I never wetted my line. 
As to flies suited to the river, I found that at that season 
small dull flies succeeded best. Of my collection, made by 
Forest & Sons, Kelso, Scotland, who, I think, make the 
perfection of salmon flies, the fairy, fiery brown, and 
dun wing were tlie most taking, although the last salmon 
caught onthe morning T left for home was allured by a 
Jock Scott. 
I fear I have spun out this prosy letter to a tiresome 
length, but before concluding I must correct an error 
which I find in your most readable book ‘The Fishing 
Tourist.”* Your statement would imply that the west 
branch of the Margaree, that which descends from Lake 
Ainslie, is the important fishing ground, and this idea is 
confirmed by the maps, which represent the northeast 
branch as an insignificant tributary. The fact is, that the 
northeast Margarece is the main 1iver, running down near- 
ly the whole extent of the northeast angle of the Island 
from near Cape North, and is a clear stony stream, while 
the west Margaree is small and muddy, and comparatively 
unfrequented by salmon, The best fishing ground is at 
the forks. WhenI arrived there were no less than ten 
tents within a radius of ten miles at the forks, one of 
whose occupants took no Jess than sixty-six salmon with 
his single rod, another thirty-six, and another thirty-three. 
These sportsmen locate themselves there in the beginning 
of June, and await the run of the fish, and it is the under- 
stood practice that when a pool was settled upon it became 
the right of the settler, so that I was deterred from setting 
up my tent then. Before I left, however, the forks were 
completely deserted, and I tried my hand there on my way 
back from a trip to the mouth of the river. Within a 
quarter of an hour I had hooked a fish of fourteen pounds 
in what is known as Biscoe’s pool, and which had been 
regularly fished most successfully for the whole season, I 
was unfortunate in breaking the end of my rod as I was 
fishing with a long line in mid-stream, and, never expect- 
ing that a fish would lie near the shore, I drew up too 
quickly to make a fresh cast, when just then my fish struck 
and away went my tip. I was bothered, but succeeded in 
landing my fish, and as it was late I went up to the house 
to mend my rod. 
I expected rare sport the next morning, as the salmon 
were jumping in all directions in the pool, but could not 
get arise. When I went up to the house one of the men 
remarked that he feared I would not have much sport, as 
the pool had been speared during the night. On enquiry, 
it turned out that between fifty and sixty salmon had been 
speared out of that pool, which was only about two hun- 
dred yards long, so I packed up my rod in disgust and 
drove back forthwith to Eldridge’s, where I was lodging, 
and would not put my rod together until the morning I left 
for home, when, as I stated before, I took. a fifteen pound 
fish with a Jock Scott. I nearly lost this fine fellow, for 
being anxious to start, with my mind preoccupied by 
thoughts of home and dear ones there, I was mechanically 
casting away in a splendid pool where a small brook joins 
the main stream, when I was startled by the sudden spring 
of my rod and the scolding of my friend as the fish made 
hisrun. I almost lost him, but recovered my presence of 
mind in time, and after a short but vigorous fight for life 
my beauty was gaffed for me by my friend. 
Thus ended my season’s sport, and within an hour after- 
wards I was en route for home 
You are quite correct ia stating that the Margaree is one 
of the best stocked salmon rivers in the world. Notwith- 
standin the immense number taken in nets at the mouth, 
and used by the canning establishment there, the large 
numbers taken by rod fishermen during the season, and the 
almost fabulous numbers that are speared and netted higher 
up as they are spawning, still they are apparently undimin- 
ished, and this year were more abundant than for many 
years previously. 
One word as to cost of transit. From Portland to Hali- 
fax and return, $10; to Pictou and return, $6; to Hawks- 
berry and return, $6; to West Bay and return, $2; to Bad- 
deck and return, $2; to Margaree and return, $6. To these 
items add staterooms, meals, and incidental expenses, and 
an estimate canbe formed of the cost of travel. Once 
there the cost of living is very moderate. Yours truly, 
Deda ig? 
*The ‘Fishing Tourist” has selected the route via Ainslie Lake as the 
most practicable and avoiding tedious journeys by stage, and not because 
the fishing of the West Branch is the best, We prefer to take the Port 
Hood route.—En, 
SS 
MAY SHOOTING AT ATLANTIC Cay New: 


Eprror Forest ayp StREAM:— 
There isa period of the year when the sportsman has 
nothing to occupy him until July when woodcock are 
sought for, (unless he bea lover of the “‘gentle art,”) and 
this period is May and June. There is nothing now in 
Season excepting ‘‘baybirds,” and under this head are in- 
cluded the curlews, godwits, tattlers, and rovers, the only 
true snipe in the region being the scolopax noveboracensis, or 
quail snipe, grayback and dowitcher, as it is called in differ- 
ent localities. 
When the greater portion of these species which visit 
our coast in the spring have passed north to their breeding 
grounds, last of all comes the red-breasted sand piper, or 
robin snipe,as I will call hin for familiarity’s sake. 
After I have ‘‘wet my line” in my favorite trout stream 
to abate the fever w 
pare for a short shooting trip either to Atlantic City, West 
hich May always brings to me, I pre- 

Creek or Long Branch, and about the 20th to the 25th of 
the month find the robin snipe ‘have arrived and taken up 
their quarters on the innumerable bars and meadow islands 
for which the New Jersey coast is noted. 
Last May having invited my friend George C—n to join 
me, I determined to initiate him into the mysteries of robin 
snipe shooting, when the sun was pouring down his rays 
to be reflected from the meadow, and making it anything 
but pleasant for a man of florid complexion. We had en- 
gaged Joel Conover as our baymen, by letter, and reaching 
Atlantic City, stopped at Shaufler’s hotel, the headquarters 
for sportsmen, and found two parties of gentlemen bent on | 
the same amusement as ourselves, and from them received 
very flattering accounts of what we might expect on the 
morrow. 
At early dawn we were awakened and found breakfast 
awaiting us, and Joel fully prepared. The inlet being but 
a short distance from the hotel, we were soon under way 
witha good breeze, and shortly found ourselves at the 
shooting ground. As the sun rose, we saw countless num- 
bers of robin snipe and bullhead plover, moving from the 
‘bars and flats which they had been “using,” as the baymen 
term it, the rising tide driving them to the meadows to 
feed. UHadit been low water, we would have shot from 
the bars, but as the tide would soon cover them, we col. 
lected together a quantity of sea weed and formed an oval 
blind sufficiently high ‘to hide us when on our backs 
awaiting the near approach of the birds. Spreading an 
india rubber blanket in our hiding place on which to lie, our 
stool birds having been artistically arranged ten or fifteen 
yards from us, we prepared ourselves for the robin snipe 
which were passing and repassing, and showing every inclin- 
ation to “use” the shallow pond near by on the meadow. 
We were scarcely settled side by side when seven plover 
came to us, and all but one were killed, C—n and Joel 
doing the shooting, as I had not as yet fully prepared my- 
self. Flock after flock of robin snipe were whistled up to 
our decoys, and great havoc was made each time in their 
ranks. And here let me describe a whistle I use for calling 
plover and robin snipe, with which a most perfect imita- 
tion can be made. It is nothing more than the school 
boy’s penny whistle of tin, two pieces of round shape, an 
inch in diameter, soldered together at the edges, leaving a 
space in the centre, and two small holes punched through 
the sides at the middle; this is placed in the mouth, and 
the drawing in of the air and expelling it with some modu- 
lation “of course, resembles the note of the bird you wish to 
call, and it can be heard at a great distance. 
Before evening we were glad te start for home, and could 
count our game by scores. The sun, however, punished us 
fearfully, and my friend presented a sorry appearance in- 
deed, but was not prevented from trying a second day. 
All the Conovers, Will, Adam and Joel are goo 1 men, 
but I am inclined to favor Will, as he is a hard worker, and 
although not so good a whistler as Adam, I would engage 
him nevertheless, for my tin toy fills the gap, and is gen. 
erally looked to as the caller. The coming May, shouidI try 
the robin snipe I shall wear a light mask of some kind to 
protect myself from the sun, which on these meadows is 
powerful, and peculiarly dazzling to the eyes, and I have 
no doubt something of the kind would answer admirably. 
In May the mosquitoes have not made their appearance, and 
the only drawback to the pleasure is the one I have men- 
tioned. In September, when the baybirds have returned 
from the north with their young, it is the middle of the 
musquito crop, and we find no enjoyment at that time. So 
if one wishes to choose his season and is desirous of trying 
Bay shooting, let hlm take May by all means. 
“Homo.” 
For Forest and Stream, 
CUPID ON SKATES. 

A PEEP AT A CANADIAN RINK. 
eo eee 
ITH love making in the tropics the majority of 
readers are doubtless more or less familiar. Vows 
are whispered in the ‘“‘balmy, soft-breathing night.” There 
are orange groves, sweet violets and magnolias; a faithful 
slave or two, and an old time plantation house. But these 
and other ‘‘properties” have figured so often in light liter- 
ature that they may be classically described as ‘‘played 
out.” Ditto with regard to stories of the war. Yet people 
must write. That iron monster, the ‘‘six-cylinder,” is in- 
satiable. His attendant minions are ever clamoring for 
“copy.” You have heard no doubt now geese are penned 
up before a hot fire to increase the size of their livers for 
the making of pate de fois gras? A somewhat similar pro- 
cess is observed in feeding a six cylinder. If you ever have 
occasion to visit a newspaper office you will notice cooped 
upin small apartments or chained to desks or tables, a 
uumber of unhappy looking men. These are the victims 
of the insatiate six-cylinder. They are reqnired to furnish 
-a certain amount of brains each day in the form of “copy,” 
with which to feed the monster; and after they become 
worn out they are thrown upon the mercies of a cold and 
uncharitable world. Far better be a goose and be killed 
for your liver. 
But I fear Iam wandering from my subject, though the 
ill-natured will readily perceive the analogy between geese 
and lovers. My intention, however, is to present some 
sketches of love-making in the frozen north. 
Do you know what a rink is? Ten to one you never 
heard the word before, unless you or your forefathers came 
from the Land o’ Cakes. There is a Scottish game called 
“curling,” which is played upon the ice with smooth stones, 
and the place where the game takes place is arink, In 

Canada a rink is a large building of brick or wood, enclos- 
ing :an artificial pond. The water is let in gradually at 
the beginning of winter, and frozen to the depth of three 
or four feet. As it is worn away by the skaters, and be- 
comes rough, more water is let on from time to time, and 
so despite rain-storms or snow-storms good sk&ting may be 
had until warm weather arrives. There-are dressing and 
refreshment rooms, and galleries and promenades for look- 
ers on, due provision being made for those who have to 
play the uneviable vole of chaperon. 
Let us enter. You pullat the bell handle; the outer door 
is opened by a servant in livery, (this is a rink frequented 
only by the ereme de la creme, and its portals are sacredly 
guarded,) and you stand in a narrow hall. A confused 
sound reaches your ears. It is as though many hundred 
scythes were being sharpened on as many grindstones, 
while other scythes were laying low heavy swaths of rust- 
ling grass. The air is damp as atthe portal of anice house. 
As an inner door is opened the noise increases, and be- 
comes more confused; a strong breeze, created by the 
skaters as they sweep rapidly round and round, reminds 
you of your rheumatic tendencies; while all that you dis- 
cern isa number of dusky, half indistinct figures moving 
to and fro with marvellous swiftness. In a second or two 
you regain your wonted composure and see things more 
clearly. You stand upon a platform extending from one 
side of the rink to the other, and from which open dress- 
ing and refreshment rooms. Next to the ice are wooden 
benches for the chaperones, who—bless their dear old 
frozen souls—sit patiently for hours to protect their dar- 
lings from young men who are not “eligible,” the word 
signifying money, and not applying in the remotest degree 
to brain, morals or good looks. But as we shall see here- 
after, the chaperone’s power ends where the ice begins, and 
the ‘‘flirtation boxes” are beyond her reach. These ‘‘flirta- 
tion boxes” are simply the niches between the timbers sup- 
porting the roof, in which seats have been piaced. They 
are only accessible from the ice, and are therefore nice 
places for an undisturbed conversation, As many of the 
timbers are of very considerable thickness, those occupying 
the seats are quite excluded from the gaze of the ch aperones® 
on the platform. Opposite tne entrance, at the far end of 
the rink, is a platform for the band, occupied two or three 
times a week, when quadrilles and lancers are danced upon 
skates, even more gracefully than in a ballroom. The 
costumes of the ladies vary of course, and a general de- 
scription of their toilets must suffice. On the head is worn 
a small, round fur cap; the skating jacket or sack is often 
of blue or scarlet cloth, with brass buttons, and variously 
trimmed; a grey or brown tweed dress is looped over a 
gay-colored balmoral, beneath which are Knickerbockers, 
or Turkish trousers, which, when. the wearer has clumsy 
ankles, come quite down to the stout Jaced boots (and when 
the reverse is the case, are often dispensed with)—add a 
large muff and fur mittens, and you have the costume of 
the fair skater. Such is the dress of the young lady who 
now appears at the door of the dressing-room, with her 
skates already buckled, and prepares to walk across the 
platform to the ice. She has a sweet face, and is alto- 
gether one of the most attractive ladies you have ever seen. 
At least, so thinks that lithe, slender youth, with the regu- 
lar features, black curly hair, and magnificent eyes, who is 
twirling about listlessly at the far end of therink, No 
sooner does he see the well-known figure at the dressing- 
room door than he gathers himself together as does a horse 
preparatory to making a leap, and bounds forward as an 
arrow speeds from the bow. Ina trice he is at the young 
lady’s fect, and busy over her skate-straps. They always 
do need tightening when Will Sweet appears, no matter 
how tight they may have been drawn before. Rose now 
gives the tip of her mitten to Will, (not, however, giving 
him the “mitten” in an unpleasant sense,) a few steps 
further and she is on the ice. The band strikes up a lively 
air, and away the couple glide, hand in hand, now fast 
now slow, keeping cxcellent time with the music, and dex- 
terously avoiding collisions with less experienced skaters, 
though to do this it is sometimes necessary to loose hands 
for a moment. 
Look! Now they are doing the ‘‘outside edge” inclin- 
ing at an angle of forty-five degrees, first on one skate iron, 
then on the other, the opposite foot being held in advance 
of and over the one which rests upon the ice. Both fig- 
ures move as one, and their rapid onward motion is not 
checked in the least. Not so graceful is the “Dutch ro}l,” 
which is neither bread, cake or sausage, but a performance 
on skates which baffles my powers of description. The 
same may be said of many other feats on skates, (no pun is 
intended,) in which fair skaters contest the palm with the 
ruder sex. 
As the music ceases Will lands his partner among the 
chaperones. She will not be persuaded into the flirtation 
boxes, and her chaperon on this occasion is decidedly vin- 
egarish and lynx-eyed. Besides there is Lieut. Fitz Poo- 
dles (who is “‘eligible,” having £500 a year besides his pay,) 
waiting to secure her for a partner. - He is rather unsteady 
on his pins, not being by any means an accomplished 
skater, and in attempting to salute Miss Budd he precipi- 
tates himself head first into the lap of an old lady. He 
stammers out a ‘‘beg pawdon,” as he recovers himself, and 
extends his hand to Rose with an ‘‘Aw, pleasure of skating 
with you, Mith Budd?” The young lady in question does 
not notice the extended hand, but demurely pleads fatigue. 
Fitz Poodles thinks he will wait until she is rested, which he 
is pretty sure will be when the band strikes up again. Will 
is as usual at the other end of the rink. ‘The leader of the 
band raises his baton, but before it can fall Will is beside 
