UC-NRLF
MY BOY
and
THE
fcr
I
I
GENERAL
LIBRARY
UNIVERSITY Of
CALIFORNIA
ME
MY BOY
and
THE BASS
BY
RICHARD SYLVESTER
of
GAME 7WD riSH PROTECTIVE ASSOCIATION
DISTRICT Or COLUA\BIA
Illustrations bv
C. K. BCRRYMAN
BOOK for the Bov and for the rather of the Bcv
COPYRIGHTED 1915
BY
RICHARD SYLVESTER
DEDICATION
These lessons, rhymes and misfits were prompted
by experience within the basin of the beautiful
Potomac River, which, with its magnificent and
attractive tributaries, drains the wonderful Blue Ridge
Mountains.
This effort is dedicated to my piscatorial friend
WALTER S. H ARE AN
and his fellow associates
of the
Blue Ridge Rod and Gun Club:
Each and every one of whom is a hunter or a
fisherman, and, all of whom have done much to
preserve the beauties of the Potomac.
M844771
My Boy and the Bass
INTRODUCTORY.
My son, according to well-known authorities,
fishing with rod, hook and line was first undertaken
immediately following the flood. It was common
pastime in the Trojan age and prevailed in the time
of the Romans.
Several hundred years ago the jointed rod, wooden
reels, and home-made lines were used by those devoted
to the art of angling. There were not so many
enthusiasts then as now, our ancient friends having
among them the humanitarians who decried the
killing of fish. As the world progressed and man
became broader in his ideas and students of the art
gave out the virtues which it possessed in book form,
the devotes became more numerous. As their number
increased and the interest in angling became more
intense, it was established that long life, pleasure and
skill, followed its indulgence v and improvements in the
implements employed were manifest. In this advanced
age, when the individual is inclined to live at a rapid
pace, endeavoring to do in a day what was formerly
accomplished in a month, the exhaustion, nervous
depression and impaired condition physically which
follow, prompt him to seek for that relief which will
rejuvenate. The desire to shun the crowded city, to
drive away business cares, to play wth nature in her
simplicity, has, in fact, enlisted a mighty army of
anglers. They camp by the river, lake, or sea, and
include men, women and children. The mother of
invention has provided material alike for the use of
those skilled in the art and the novice who "fishes for
fun." Rods of many kinds are available, and the
clock-like mechanism of the modern reel makes some
of them luxuries to own. Experts provide fish hooks
of wonderful strength, beauty and finish. Lines are
braided from the poorest linen to the costliest silk,
and even baits which would deceive the trained eye
are manufactured.
If you would grow up a strong, courageous,
intelligent, generous, honest man, I invite your earnest
attention to the few simple lessons bound within this
little volume. They may include some things which
will afford you comfort to that end.
Isaak Walton
DE CLICKIN' OB DE REEL
I's hear'd de bullfrog bellow,
De fatty 'possum squeal,
But dat's no music like unto
De clickin' ob de reel.
Fs hear'd de locus' singin',
De Kildeer's noisy peal,
But dat don't wake de heart up
Like de clickin' ob de reel.
I's hea'd de farm bell ringin'
De call fer fiel' han's meal,
But dat don't have no 'traction
Like de clickin' ob de reel.
I's hear'd de fox houn barkin'
He'd scent de rabbit's heel,
But dat wer' mighty dullness
'Gin de clickin' ob de reel.
Is yer eber bin aboatin'
In de ship widout de keel,
And seen de rod abendin'
To de clickin' ob de reel?
De trow dey call de "castin"',
En when dey strike ye's feel
De line she go a sizzin'
To de clickin' ob de reel.
Ye begin ter wind 'er in den
Wid all ye's nigga zeal,
Fer ye's like ter cotch'd a bass
Wid de clickin' ob de reel.
From ebery nook en corner,
Natur's mel'dies roun' me steal
But non' ob dem ain' in it
Wid de clickin' ob de reel.
RICHARD SYLVESTER, 1905.
Clicking of the Reel
ME, MY BOY AND THE BASS.
THE upper Potomac and its tributaries flow
through deep gorges and mountain passes,
sandy and rock bottom alternating. My son
and I were happily located near the confluence of
the former river and the Shenandoah. Rocky walls
standing almost perpendicular, with lofty layers and
rugged croppings on the surface all the result o'f
some great convulsion of nature, on the faces of
which were pictured fantastic designs bearing the
names ascribed to them by the natives of the locality,
hemmed in the clear, swift and sparkling waters of
these two streams. The former presented a dark
blue tint the color of the sky, the latter a greenish hue
caused by the reflection of the verdure which grew
along the upper mountain sides. Innumerable rocks
and boulders lifted their heads above the surface of
these waters, the romance of the picture broken by
artificial dams and runways which harassed the power
of the streams for milling purposes. Along in the
fifties, so the legend goes, a locomotive engineer
transported several thousand small-mouthed black bass
in the tank of the engine tender to the head
waters of the Potomac, and there gave them their
freedom. These multiplied, increased in numbers to
thousands more, coupled with time, caused them to
develop not only in size but in extreme viciousness
as well.
Nowhere in the world can there be found a fish
which possesses the fighting qualities, the gameness,
15
the brilliant marking and delicious flavor of the
small-mouthed black bass of the Potomac and its
tributaries. No such perfect development of this
species has been attained elsewhere by those engaged
in the study and propagation of fish, though one or
two writers give the large-mouthed black bass
credit for possessing the same attributes under similar
environments.
Yearly the government contributes a new supply of
miniatures to these rivers which have so roundly
proved and proclaimed themselves as the best adapted
of all others for the propagation of the most perfect
specimen of fish for the sportsman and the epicure.
The small-mouthed specimens inhabit these upper
streams, while below the falls in the Potomac River,
on south below Mount Vernon, the large-mouthed
variety are captured in great numbers, but they are
sluggish as compared with the variety with the small
mouth, are not as desirable food, and do not demand
that skilled attention of the gentleman who handles
the rod while being taken into captivity. Actual
experience prompted me to explain this contrast to my
son and to teach him the several "points of the
compass" regarding the small-mouthed bass, that he
might readily distinguish the same. I took occasion
to locate for him the dorsal fin on the back, pectoral
fin on the side, ventral fin at the rear of the breast,
anal fin underneath, the caudal fin at the extreme of
the tail, cheek behind the eye, snout, breast, and lateral
line, and to inform him of the readily distinguished
features in the smaller mouth of the gamiest species
their characteristics are striking; that the small-
mouthed is slender, the larger deeper through, a
heavier fish for its length; that on the latter may be
16
counted from sixty-five to seventy scales along the
lateral line between head and tail, while from seventy
to eighty are inclined in the same distance on the
smaller subject. Between the dorsal fin and lateral
line but eight horizontal lines of scales are included in
the larger fish, eleven in the other. The scales on
the breast of the upper river fish are smaller than those
of the lower, and the rays of the spinous portion of
the dorsal are higher and more even than on the
large-mouthed. The small-mouthed bass is not always
black, but the color changes according to the shade
of the water, condition of the weather and extent of
the field wherein the fish may domicile. I gave it to
my son as a fact that while these things were known,
the more the small-mouthed bass was studied the less
was known about it, for no rules laid down for finding
the fish, how and when it will take a bait, what
will be its color and appearance, have, as a general
proposition, held good. Here is where one may exert
his patience, science and skill to ascertain a knowledge
that no other fellow possesses. Every boy and man
will have his own distinct experiences, and yet
Benjamin Franklin is attributed with having said that
fishing consists of a rod and line with a bait on one
end and a fool on the other.
THE FIRST LESSON.
The rising sun was just breaking the outlines of
Maryland Heights, a moderate mountain breeze fanned
the leaves of the trees and the blades of grass glistened
with the early morning dew. The hammock I occupied
was actively manipulated by my ten year old son,
who was equally brisk and energetic with his tongue
17
in propounding questions. While thus engaged, the
old wooden gate, which furnished the only entrance
and egress through a picket fence surrounding several
acres of lawn, swung to with a bang which attracted
our attention and a handsome specimen of young
manhood appeared, carrying a grip and bait bucket
in one hand and a fishing rod in the other. He was
quick of action and <wore a look of pleasant anticipation,
a "new arrival" at our mountain inn. He nodded and
smiled a cheerful "fine morning/' and sought out
the landlord to secure board and lodgings. As he
disappeared my boy remarked, "another fisherman."
"Yes," said I, "and when you see a fellow come
through the gate with a fishing rod over his shoulder,
always remember there's something good in him."
"Why do you say that, father," came from my son?
It would not do to fail of response to such a question.
All boys ask them, and should do so, for it is in
that wise they become informed, and the answers given
by older persons should always be accurate, clear
and satisfactory. Misleading information given to an
inquisitive boy in the earlier days may result in
embarrassments, if not discouragement, later in life.
"Well," said I, "the study of nature is the primary
incentive for action in the field of the true fisherman,
and when I say fisherman I do not mean the man who
plows the sea or draws the stae to replenish the stalls
of the market or fishers of men, but that individual
who for pleasure, recreation and general improvement
wades the mountain stream, crosses fallen trees,
scrambles through briars, pulls a boat on the open
river, investigates as to depth, clearness and temper-
ature of water, predicts the weather, experiments with
different bait, judges hooks, reel and rod, learns the
18
haunts and species of fish, their habits and seasons,
who believes and practices in their propagation and
growth and who does not endeavor to capture them all
at one sitting. The fisherman thus inclined must find
contentment in the music of the water, joy in the
warbling of the birds, beauty in the coloring of the
leaves, grandeur in the rocks, rest in roaming through
the woods, refreshment in the trickling spring, delight
in all about him. Trials, tribulations and burdens
incident to the hours of daily labor must be forgotten.
His mind must be in the abstract, the air that he
breather pure, the food consumed be plain and his bed
rugged and one whereon he must early to rest and
early to rise. While the average fisherman may not
embrace all these qualities or enjoy all these gratifying
experiences, the majority of them do, and if so, there
follows some good in them. My son, the tendency of
the age is to excess in everything, but the chances
for it in this direction are fewer than in any other.
Athletic exercise should not be depreciated, but to
believe that padded pants, a wind bag and broken
collar bones are essential as part and parcel of a college
education cannot be argued to a correct solution. The
old astronomer teaching geometry once said, when the
pupil was in fault, "You may put such ideas in
a basket and they will all leak through." Golf is
commendable sport, but when contest for supremacy
involves great expenditures of time, money and wager,
it must in a measure detract from the simplicity which
involves all the real values in outjdoor recreation. I
do not wish to be misunderstood. The game itself
is clean elevating and helpful, builds the physical
man, and, as a general proposition, the participants
are loth to indulge to that extent which demoralizes,
19
but it is readily susceptible of being carried about the
circuit professionally. Baseball is the American game,
but during the past score of years it has been placed
on the stage with all the embellishments, settings
and accompanyments which draw large audiences,
transform the contests from friendly matches to money-
making affairs with high-priced actors managed by
financial syndicates. Men skilled in twirling the sphere,
with muzzles to save their noses and spiked shoes for
leg security, have reduced the sport to mechanical
perfection. The aim of the school boy who is enthusi-
astic about the game is to become a professional tosser.
As a result the participant is inclined to excess, wagers
wax warm, and shattered heads and fingers as well
as bats become prominent features. Foot-ball embraces
all the characteristics which lead to over indulgence
and risk. I do not mean in that sense which detracts
from the moral standing of those who make up the
teams, but the rushes carry with them injuries which
at once make the undertaking hazardous. Fractured
jaws, legs and heads, demanding the attendance and
attention of corps of well-trained doctors and efficient
nurses and comfortable ambulances are interesting
accompanyments of this delicate pastime. The anxious
mother with a son on the college team is frequently
in evidence. The ambitious boy, whose desires run
to foot-ball, as a usual thing makes life a burden for
those nearest and dearest to him, and who are disposed
to the belief that a diploma must depend upon his
ability to tackle.
The pool room should not be reckoned with as a
proper place to gain what some fathers believe are
accomplishments. To be sure skill is required to make
plays which win, but it is far better to acquire such
20
skill after the boy has become a man than to expose
him to the influence which predominate about the
average pool room in our towns and cities. The
summer gardens and country clubs, with their many
alluring attractions, profit from the patronage of the
boys, but the round table and dancing pavilion belong
to both, and the company and amusements which charm
the patrons are not always of the kind which tend to
long life and prosperity. The boy in the city has
opportunities of this kind which, it is to be regretted,
are far too numerous, inviting and accessible. Such
indulgence does not develop the mind or the muscle.
The world is full of enticing pleasures for the
boy which should not be fostered by his patronage,
because his body will be dwarfed and his mind retarded
thereby. It is the disposition of boys to concentrate.
Association is their natural bend. This should not
be discouraged, but when it follows older heads
should throw around those safeguards which will
maintain the higher principles and influences. Nature
provides for these when the boys would 'a fishing go/
Now, my son, take the grub-pick and a tin can, go
into the stable yard, raise an old log or a board,
where the ground is black and moist, dig a couple of
dozen red angle worms and then return and I will
prepare to go with you to the river."
21
Fishing for Henry-Small-Mouthed.
DISAPPOINTMENT.
Dat pick, dat spade,
Dem he consult,
Dat can, dat worm,
Dem am result.
Dat rod, dat reel,
Dem bes' he wish,
Dat hook, dat line,
Dem he did fish.
Dat s-.var, dat walk,
Den he did took,
Dat grub, dat sleep,
Wid ugly look.
THE SECOND LESSON
My son, it does not add to a fisherman's luck or
ability if he attires himself in a fishing suit, although
there are people who will tell you that clothing made
after the coloring of the rocks and trees is not liable
to attract the attention of the bass. The hunting
jacket, with pockets for everything, facilitates the
pleasure, but does not necessarily add to success. Those
who would, prefer knee breeches and stockings, and
for the feet have laced shoes with hobnails in the
soles, or cloth-topped shoes, which lace tightly, fitted
with rubber soles to prevent slipping. As to head gear,
a cap or felt hat is to be preferred, or for boat fishing
the best adapted is a cambric hat with broad brim,
green lined for protection to the eyes and which folds
up for the pocket. Woolen goods should be worn in
the shape of a shirt and a belt is preferable to sus-
penders, it allowing freedom of action and relief for
the shoulders.
There are many kinds of rods, and while there are
those who will tell you of the wonderful catches made
by the plain country people on common poles cut for
the day, these fishermen lose as many bass as they
catch. The bass must have some leeway and elasticity
in order to turn and take the bait, therefore a rod
without guides and a line to run from a reel, is not
the most desirable. There are many varieties of rods
manufactured and there are fishermen who are adepts
in their construction. The bamboo is most generally
used. It is made short, long, stiff or elastic, and is
perhaps the most delicate in workmanship. It is
usually made of three joints, with a fourth or extra
tip for use in case a tip is broken. The lancewood
26
rod is employed by many fishermen and is similarly
arranged as to joints, guides and tips as the bamboo.
These rods are employed by experts as they afford that
opportunity for delicate work which cannot be realized
or accomplished by any other. For shore fishing a
long rod is required, measuring from nine to ten feet,
while in fishing from a boat a much shorter rod should
be employed. This opinion is ventured from the stand-
point of bait fishing for bass. The modern rod for
boat fishing is made of steel with three joints, trumpet
guides and agate tip. Its length should not be over
seven feet and great care should be exercised in
observing that it is of proper weight and balance and
not too elastic. The steel rod should at all times be
kept well cleaned and dry and the joints be oiled
before and after use. Of reels there are many makes
and patterns, skillful mechanics exercising wonderful
ability in the construction of the parts. There are
reels in use which possess the intricacy and delicacy
of a good watch, every part hand made, with the
capacity of multiplying many times in taking or giving
out the line. These reels have drags and clicks, some
on the side, others in front, for the purpose of regulat-
ing the lines and giving alarms. In casting the line
from a reel, the effort should be made with the right
arm and over-running or back wind of the line should
be prevented by the right thumb. Every fisherman has
his own peculiar method of casting, however, and
practice alone will establish proficiency, which is
made up in distance and accuracy. Reels may be
bought for a small price or a high figure. A reel
should always be kept in good condition by rubbing,
oiling and tightening of rivets and screws. A dark
silk braided line, from seventv-five to one hundred
27
yards in length, is proper for use in Potomac bass
fishing. Besides a good rod, reel and line, an assort-
ment of hooks should be included in the well equipped
outfit, and there is no question but what a four or
six foot leader gives live bait a freedom for play which
adds to its alluring features. A double nought hook
with dark snood, for spring and summer, and a three
nought hook for fall fishing in the small-mqtuhed black
bass waters, are favorites. Above all things, next to
frequently replenishing your live bait with running
water, my son, give close attention to the care of
your rod, reel, line and! hooks. Keep them clean and
dry when not in use. After a day's sport oil rods and
reels, and expose your line from pillar to post until
all moisture is gone. Carry your hooks neatly arranged
in a pocketbook, where they -will be readily accessible
and where they may be quickly replaced. Have a
separate place for your leaders. In arranging your
rod for work first join the tip and second joint, being
careful to align the guides, then join to the butt or
handle. It is a safe rule to carry your rod over your
shoulder, otherwise you may break your tips. See
to it that you have a stringer or two in your pocket,
and string the fish through both the lower and upper
lips. A pair of pincers, water-proof box of matches,
thread and bottle of witch-hazel are good things to
carry on a trip. If you carry bait^ in a bucket, have
it so large as to give them plenty of room to move
about. If helgamite or worms you use, a tin box with
punctured tight-closing lid is convenient to carry them
in. All these things you have. Well, you are duly
prepared for business and we will get in a good night's
rest and take an early start for the river in the
morning.
28
Yon Can't Hood Wink Me.
THEY ARE BITING.
Git dem tings a' ready,
Fer we's gwine ter take er trip,
Dey am bitin'.
Be'n workin' mighty ste'dy,
Ter cotch 'em in der lip,
Dey am bitin'.
Ye's can take no seat,
All owin' to der heat,
Dey am bitin'.
Golly we 'ill fetch 'em,
See da how we catch 'em,
Dey am bitin'.
What? M'SKEETERS!
v:f/' Ai ^
I Had A Great Many Bites Tumulty.
ME, MY BOY AND BAIT.
MY SON returned in a short time, his broad-
brimmed straw sitting on the back of his head.
The prespiration rolled down his rosy cheeks
their color somewhat marred here and there by the
barn-yard dirt which formed diminutive puddles about
the dimples in his chin .where the small rivulets of
perspiration came in contact with it. Said he, "I've
got a can of angle worms here, supposin' you wanted
to catch chubs for bait." "Yes," said I, "worms are
good for chubs, but in this latitude where the sun
shines warm and swift running iwater races over
thousands of loose rocks, you find plenty of helg^a-
mites which afford a better bait for chubs and a very
good morsel for bass." My son crossed his legs and
began a discussion of the bait question. I had to
enter into a full explanation. "The helgjamite," I
explained, "is an insect varying in length from a
quarter to three inches, with a pair of pincers for
defense- It is made up of a succession of joints
with a rim or collar immediately back of the head, and
a body gradually diminishing in size to the tip of the
tail which is pointed. He moves rapidly upon small
crawlers and is very evasive of the light. The proper
manner to handle the little subject is to pick it up
just back of the head between the thumb and the
forefinger, and to bait with it the hook is passed
directly under the collar. The easiest way to capture
this kind of bait is to take a yard of mosquito netting
35
and sew either end about a broom stick, the net
stretched between the two sticks, the handles of the
latter serving as such. With the net stretched the
full length, one party places it into shallow swift
water below a large well-planted rock, which a second
person displaces. The rapidly washing current conveys
sand, mud, and helg^amites, which usually rest under-
neath the stone, into the net which is quickly raised
and the captured insects are taken from the meshes
to which they adhere. When the weather is clear
and the water warm the helgjamite makes an excellent
bait for bass, but it should always be alive and
kicking and not allowed to remain on the bottom of the
stream, as it will make for the rocks or rubbish and
hide itself securely. The idea is to keep it moving
by using a line with a very light sinker, if any, while,
if conditions are good, it can be used for casting as
with the fly. The best all-around live bait for the
Potomac bass is the chub, a small scale fish, keen of
vision, and as wild and difficult to capture as the
brook trout. At the shade of a rod or shadow of a
moving figure the chub will dart away or under the
stones. This pretty and hardy little fish makes up
stream usually in the morning or evening in shallow,
rippling, swift water, hence the name "Swift Water
Chub." An expert with a short elastic rod, thread
line with small shot sinker and the most diminutive
hook made, a joint of hel^amite or piece of worm
for bait, will catch a dozen chubs in a short time.
Great caution must be practiced to hook them. The
bait should be moved from place to place, just beneath
the surface of the swift rippling water^ the sports-
man being quick to snag the fish when it strikes at
the hook. The chub is long-lifed and very active,
36
and is an excellent bait for bass at any season of the
year. Minno.ws are used by most of the Potomac
River fisherman because they are plentiful. They are
usually caught with the old-time bow net, fed with
corn meal or dough, attached to the end of a long
pole. They do not survive captivity any length of time
and easily succumb to the piercing of the hook. When
used they should be run through the tail. The smelt
are taken in large numbers in the lower Potomac and
transported by rail in buckets for bass fishing. They
perish rapidly, requiring frequent replenishing of
water to keep them from dying, although if a piece
of ice is allowed to melt slowly an'd drip into a bucket
it tends to keep up the supply of oxygen and maintains
the fish alive. There are buckets made with air pumps
attached for reviving this delicate bait, but they are
not a general success. In the fall of the year the sand
toad, which comes forth in great numbers on sandy
bottoms after sundown, makes an excellent bait for
the still fisherman. That is the individual who sits
on a rock and waits for a strike. The toad must be
weighted with a sinker in order to keep it beneath
the water. There are periods when the river is clear
and low and fly fishing may be had, but opportunities
for this kind of sport are not many and it is not
readily taken ^by the younger class of fisherman of
the Potomac. The man who casts has generally
abandoned the spoon with its gang hooks. It is
regarded as unfair and unsportsmanlike. The single
hook and spoon are used to some extent. The most
modern device invented by the man who casts, is made
from fat pork, the rind of the pork furnishing the
outside of a bait cut in the shape of a minnow, the
eyes and fins being marked thereon in ink. A small
37
puncture is made through that part intended for the
head of the bait, where the hook is inserted. This is
thrown with great effect by the enthusiastic wielder
of the rod and some creditable catches have followed
its use."
My son listened attentively to what I had to explain
regarding bait for the bass, which he amusingly said
reminded him of the experiences of Uncle Scott
Lightner, who always had a hard time getting bait.
On one occasion the latter had gone fishing with a
bucket of toads for bait. He had waited and watched
the greater part of a long hot day for the bass to
strike, but was not rewarded by any captures. Taking
a board from a farmer's fence, Uncle Scott drove
four nails into it, to each of which he fastened a
fish line two feet long. On the end of each line he
tied a hook and baited them separately with toads.
Placing the board thus prepared into his boat, he
pulled out into the middle of the broad part of the
river and put it overboard to float down stream,
expecting surely that each toad-baited hook would
have a bass on it when the board had floated down
a couple of miles. Uncle Scott then proceeded far
below the point of starting and waited until nearly
dark, when, tired and discouraged, he rowed the boat
out to meet the floating board .with its lines, hooks
and fish. Instead of finding a bass on each hook
as anticipated, as he approached the object of his
genius he spied the four little toads, with hooks and
lines attached, all sitting up on the raft happily and
contentedly floating down the placid river. With the
light heart and gentle nature that belongs to the
true fisherman, Uncle Scott laughed heartily at the
funny sight which met his gaze, and in the face of
38
disappointment hastily beat a retreat for home. My
son wondered how it was that so good a fisherman as
Uncle Scott should have forgotten to place sinkers
on those short lines to keep the toads from taking
passage on the upper deck of the plank. While the
boy's story ; was laughable as it was true, it was not
half as serious as another experience had by Uncle
Scott some weeks afterwards, which my son fully
appreciated. Uncle Scott is a charitable, Christian
gentleman and frequently enjoys himself when
fishing at the expense of others by ridiculing the
younger enthusiasts, so one day the boys determined
to have some real fun with him. He started out iwith
rod, reel, bucket, and a sandwich, for an afternoon's
bass fishing. After much difficult wading and climb-
ing he found himself on a large rock in the middle of
and when ready for a bait picked up an old
canteen, which was represented to contain a choice
selection of helgamites. Uncle Scott methodically
took off his coat and hat and laid them gently aside
on the rock, preparing his rod and line for action,
and when ready for a bait picked up the old canteen
to extract one for his hook. He pulled out the stopper,
shook the vessel a minute, when, to his horror, an
army of vicious yellow jackets flew out of the muzzle
of the receptacle, and alighting on his head and hands
made him dance to his heart's content on that lone
rock in the middle of the river. Though somewhat
worn and excited, with several respectable swellings
as a reminder of his experience with the new bait the
boys had provided, he ha-ha-ed at the practical joke
and carried it home with him that evening as the
most enjoyable part of the afternoon's trip.
39
I Will Bait My Appetite Stellwagen.
WAIT AND WAIT.
E'se guine down de ribber
To try en git some bait
And fro dis line o'board,
En wait, en wait, en wait.
E'se guine to tie the boat loos,
And straddle cros de sete,
Den fro de line en hook out,
En wait, en wait, en wait.
De cat fish, he gis nibble,
Den run at libely gait,
Dis nigga den '11 pull 'em
En wait, en wait, en wait.
Jis den de line am en dar,
De hook it hab no freight,
Dat fish, he laf en stay dar,
En wait, en wait, en wait.
Dis Nigga's feelin bad den,
En go home very straight,
For eas'r ter get der chicken-hen,
Den wait, en wait, en wait.
43
PATIENCE AND BAIT.
THE rising sun induced us to move a few feet
further under the shade of the locust for con-
tinued discussion.. "My son, you take that can
of worms and hide it under the steps and we'll use
them for catching chubs in the morning. The other
sun is now high up in the heavens and bass don't
bite well after nine o'clock, during August. We'll
postpone going to the river until tomorrow, and
arrange our equipment." These words I addressed
to the boy and they fell heavily upon his high hopes
and anticipations. He didn't care for the heat and was
quite willing to test the theory that the bass ceased
biting after a certain hour. He was obedient how-
ever and after depositing his can of worms according-
to instructions, returned to find consolation in talking
more about bait.
I began to realize that my son was undergoing a
disappointment and so proceeded to impress upon him
the fact that poor success attends any undertaking
incomplete in preparation and understanding. That
as we journeyed through life our way would be made
rugged by greater or less obstacles and that the
obstructions would be fewer if they were clearly
understood as we proceeded. I endeavored to have
him comprehend that patience is a great virtue which
is more firmly impressed by the gentle art of fishing
and preparing for it than in any other way. When
it was explained that the instructions and information
44
advanced regarding bait was not only intended in
that light but also to serve as a lesson in patience and
to realize the monotony of the study, it was happily
and fully appreciated. It was important too that my
son should become enlightened as to the truthfulness
or falsity of fish stories, and to this end I explained
that they were generally told in a spirit of fun, to be
accepted with many grains of allowance. That there
were fish stories that were true and fish stories that
were never intended to be accepted as truth. That
they were more generally repeated to kill time, to
add merriment and interest to the sport; a harmless
diversion, throwing aside of seriousness, proper trim-
mings for the recreation they always accompany.
What better antidote for "the blues" and melancholy,
and what more glorious food for tired and worn out
man can there be than a wholesome, clean, interesting,
fish story properly delivered ! They should come from
gentlemen, be untarnished wtth vulgarity, free fromj^y
profanity and unaccompanied by rudeness.
On this subject good Father Isaac Walton said:
"He is not to me a good companion, for most of
his conceits were scripture jests or lascivious jests;
for which I count no man witty, for the devil will help
a man that way inclined to the first ; and his own cor-
rupt nature, which he always carries with him, to the
latter; but a companion that feasts the company with
wit and mirth and leaves out the sin that is usually
mixed with it, is the man, * * * * but for such com-
pany as we heard last night, it infests others ; the very
boys will learn to talk and swear as they heard mine
host and another of the company that shall be nameless.
I am sorry the other is a gentleman, for less religion
will not save their souls than a beggar's. I think
45
more will be required at the last great day." Walton
would be seen in no man's company twice he did not
like, and he liked none but such as he believed were
honest and clean.
The bait subject, not being a limited one, was
resumed. MusStes, cock roaches, worms of all kinds,
branch minnows, stone rollers, cat eels or wall-eyed
cats, small cat fish, sun fish, locusts and soft crabs
were each mentioned an acceptable food to the black
bass. The cat eel is a favorite in clear water during
warm -.weather and is usually used after his horns and
fins are clipped. This bait has a habit of going to
the bottom of the stream and often a cork, just
sufficiently bouyant to keep him from lodging among
the rocks, is attached to the snood a few inches above
the hook. The soft crab is quartered after being
fresh killed and the meat being stringy is frequently
and properly tightly tied about the hook with sewing
thread. When I spoke to my son of cats, he laugh-
ingly remarked "You dont' mean to tell me that cats
real cats are used for bait? I made reply, "I can't
vouch for the story, but it was told me. Tom Dawson
was a railroad employe, and when not braking on the
road spent his hours on the river fishing. He took
an early start one morning and as he was about to
leave home, carrying his rods, bucket and lunch
basket, his good wife remarked, 'Tom, as you are
going to the river today, take that small litter of
kittens our cat gave birth to yesterday and drown
them.' Tom did as requested. He carefully placed
the kittens in his pockets and proceeded over the
railroad bridge and up the tow-path to the island
for a quiet days sport. Arriving on the ground, he
located on a rocky projection and in the course of an
hour landed several nice bass, which he placed upon
his stringer. These he caught with minnows for bait.
Just as he turned around he spied two city sportsmen
in full regalia, standing within a few feet of where
he was. The gentlemen had new rods and tackle
and in fact every modern device for luring the bass,
but they lacked experience as will be shown. One of
them addressed Tom, wishing him a 'Good morning,
what luck?' Tom replied, 'Oh, not much, got these
're,' at the same time showing his string of bass. The
city lads were charmed and ventured to ask, "What
bait did you use?/ 'Kittens/ replied Tom, at the
same minute thinking of the kittens his wife had
charged him to drown, and pulling one from his
pocket. Said he, see, these is what I use/ The novices
eyed each other and then looked at Tom, perfectly
dumbfounded. 'You don't mean to tell us you use
kittens, said the principal spokesman, 'Yes/ said Tom,
'got 'em all on kittens/ With this the city lads, with
less enthusiasm than they had started out with, moved
on in quiet to first try the worms they had provided.
They had no success, and after an hour's absence
returned and said, 'Mister, where did you get the
kittens?' 'In Harpers Ferry/ said Tom, emphasizing
his words by pulling up his line and apparently placing
a kitten on the hook, which he threw out into the
stream. 'Well I'll be dog on/ said one of the unini-
tiated, and with lowered spirits the two proceeded to
Harpers Ferry, a mile away, and enlisted some of the
small boys to hunt up kittens, for which they rewarded
them. What success followed may be well imagined.
Suffice it to say that Tom went home with a big
string of bass, he had disposed of the kittens, and
Mrs. Dawson joined him in enjoying the practical
47
joke he had played on the innocents from the city.
The small-mouthed black bass, it has been well
established, is so ravenous at times that any moving
object in the water will tempt him to an attack. Many
instances are known where the fish has jumped into
open boats, where he has pursued a bait for long dis-
tances to make a lunge for it close under the oars. On
one occasion, while fishing in the Potomac just below
the mouth of the Monocacy, at a spot where the
branches of the trees overhanged the quiet waters,
I surprised my boatman, George Walter, by landing a
pound-and-a-half fish from the mouth of which pro-
truded a tail which at first sight looked like that of a
rat. We were both of us puzzled and proceeded to
make a close examination, and forced the fish to
disgorge a field squirrel. It was partially digested,
the acids of the fish's stomach having eaten away most
of the hairy covering of the animal. There was
enough of it intact, however, to enable us to identify
the creature, which had evidently fallen into the river
from an overspreading tree and been devoured by the
bass. At another time during a visit to Shenandoah
City, situated on the river of the same name, I captured
a bass with a half swallowed water moccasin protrud-
from its jaws.
To more fully illustrate the savage propensities of
the fish, and to show that he will partake of its own
kind, a specimen may be seen in the National Museum,
which was placed there through the courtesy of Col.
Richard J. Bright, where a small-mouthed bass is
hanging to the hook while a few inches above on
the snood is a more diminutive specimen of the same
species, and preceeding that a minnow bait. The
Colonel reasoned that the smaller bass had jumped
at the minnow and hanged itself, and that the larger
bass had struck at the smaller bass and landed on the
hook. If the Colonel's theory is correct, there remains
no doubt but what the species will destroy its kind,
and the several experiences conclusively establish the
fact that the small-mouthed bass will endeavor to
capture anything alive that comes within his reach,
even if it chokes him to take care of it. No less
startling was the discovery made by my boatsman
Walter, when, while dressing a bass, he took from
its stomach the perfect shell of a small turtle, which
in time the fish would have disgorged as it is fully
capable of doing.
49
Patience of the Kauffmann Kind.
REAL LIFE.
He casts the bait,
He strikes the hook,
The distance well is measured,
He winds the reel,
He bends the rod,
The prize he lands is treasured.
He wades the stream,
He climbs the rocks,
With nature's charms delighted,
He loves the flowers,
He knows the woods,
All earthy cares are blighted.
53
ME, MY SON AND UNCLE SCOTT.
BEFORE retiring my son had carefully arranged
his fishing clothes on a chair, while a pair of
rubber-soled tennis shoes peered out from under-
neath. The short bamboo rod with reel, line and
hook, the last mentioned hanging from a swivel, which
he was to use on the morrow, stood up in the corner
of his room at such angle from the pillow on which
he lay his head as to be the first article to meet his
gaze on awakening. As a precaution against noise
which might disturb the household at the early hour
we proposed to go a fishing, he placed a tin bucket
close to the foot of the bed where he might not fall
over it on arising.
The near-by barn-yard rooster gave the break of
day alarm which aroused my son, who, full of happy
anticipations and with that boyish energy which
follows undisturbed rest, jumped from his couch and
fell over the tin bucket which had been so well placed,
its rattling over the bare floor arousing the sleepers
throughout the house, including myself. This unin-
tentional disturbance caused us both to giggle until
dressed, when on tip-toe we gathered up rods and
sought the kitchen, where Mary gave us each a fried
egg, warm cakes and coffee, together with a pocket
lunch. Mary was the colored cook who merrily wished
us "good luck" as we hastily and enthusiastically
started on our mile walk to the river. It was down
hill and through a street of an old town which had
54
stood the brunt of the rebellion. I answered innumer-
able questions, whistled broken melodies and hummed
familiar tunes, and my boy did exactly as I did,
except that he asked questions, didn't answer them.
The birds were chiming and flitting from cedar to
cedar, and the roar of the Shenandoah River as it
rushed over a bed broken with immense boulders added
to the music of the bright crisp morning. At the foot
of the trail, beyond the town limits, we came to the
water's edge and underneath an overhanging brush
pile we found a bucket of bait. The bucket had been
placed there the night before in sucli position as
permitted the water to percolate through the holes
which had been punctured in it. My son opened the
tin bucket with which he had awakened the family
that morning and into it I transferred the wiggling
chubs. This done we proceeded to the dam, a half
mile away. There we climbed down the stone wall,
crossed over through the willows, stubbing a toe on
projecting rocks here and there which tested my son's
endurance and capability to suppress bad words.
Crossing over the river on the dam, we were joined
by an old fisherman, Uncle Scott Lightner, who ac-
companied us along the path which skirted the
mountain until we reached Bull's Falls. Here our
companion waded out onto a high rock which lifted
its head above the swift raging water and proceeded
leisurely to fish for the small-mouthed bass, while
my son and I trudged on across an island covered
with tall oaks and entangling undergrowth, until we
reached a narrow branch of the river known by the
mountaineers as "Sylvester's Run." It ran over
shelving flat rocks, the water now deep and the next
step shallow. We waded up stream. I led the way
55
and my son followed dragging his bait bucket through
the water by a string. As I proceeded I cast my
bait ahead, and at every throw nearly it would be
jumped at by the bass that lay hidden behind the
ledges of the rocks. It was only necessary to cast
eight or nine yards of line right, left and to the
center. As the bass were reeled in they were run
onto the stringer which soon became burdensome for
my son to carry and I was compelled to relieve him.
One end I fastened to the ring in my belt while the
bunch of pretty creatures would swim around in my
wake. So ravenous and vicious did the fish become
that I captured as many as three on a single bait.
My son laughed and halloed until the mountain
chain fairly echoed with his delight. After landing
nine bass, I proceeded to instruct my son as we
retraced our trip down the stream. The strikes were
less frequent of course, but we picked up one now
and then in pools which we had missed on our upward
trip. Relieving my son of the bait bucket, I cautioned
him to place his thumb on the reel so as to gauge the
play of line, and casting with two hands he was
enabled to add to our already heavy string. It was a
pleasure to instruct him. "Give your line a slight
jerk. Now you have him. Let him play. Keep
your line taught. Reel it slowly. Be careful. Raise
your rod so as to keep the line tight. Reel again,
Rod up a little. Now I'll get him." These were some
of the directions. Then reaching down I would get
the fish between the gills and mouth with thumb and
forefinger, dislodge the hook and string it. Said I to
my son, "We have taken a big catch, let us not be
hoggish. A man should not continue to fish when he
has enough. There is reason in all things." Tired
56
and hungry, we waded onto the island and devoured
our pocket lunches. We selected a swift running
place to drink from, which we did by lying flat on our
stomachs and dipping our noses into the water. Our
bucket we emptied, and taking our reels and lines
from the rods, the latter were unjointed and put in
their coverings. Procuring a six foot sapling, the
string of nearly twenty pounds of fish we tied to it.
My son took one end of the spaling and I the other, and
thus carrying our catch between us we journeyed
through underbrush under the broad spreading trees
across the island in search of our companion whom we
had left on the rock in the morning. Emerging
through the thickly wooded highland with some dif-
ficulty, we crossed over a deep fall on the trunk of
a dead tree to reach the mammoth rocks, which made
a natural dam two-thirds of the way across t he
Shenandoah River. Through crevices here and there
the water rushed into the basins below with the
appearance of a great boiling stream from so many
hot^ water pipes. Doubled up on the rocks, his rod
resting on the forks of a willow stick planted in the
sand, his line set for a bass, Uncle Scott awaited the
clicking of the reel. We startled him by our quiet
and unheralded arrival, only broken by my son hallow-
ing "What luck?." Leisurely he looked around and
replied, "Bad luck, only one fish and no lunch, 'cause
you fellows carried it with you." So we had. The
extra bite for our friend we had carried off with
us in the morning. When Uncle Scott sighted the
fine string of fish we carried he was startled. Though
not given to excitement or enthusiasm under any
conditions, he marveled at the catch, asked all kinds
of questions, and sorrowed because he had not gone
57
with us over the island. Throwing the string into the
bubbling stream to keep the fish alive, we expressed
our regrets at his poor luck and apoligized for allowing
him to go hungry. We gave him a left over sandwich,
however, and during the devouring thereof he
philosophized to my son. "It only goes to show that
a man should think twice before he decides upon a
place to fish, and even after that, in order to be
successful, my son, there must be some work done.
Like makin' a living, the more pluck, energy and
intelligence you put into it, the better off you will be.
Patience is a good thing, but there are other ingre^ 1
iients such as I named should go with it. A wise
man, attired in fisherman's clothes, was discovered
sitting on the bank of a small muddy pond one day by
an ignorant colored boy. The man was fishing,
watching the movements of a float which showed as a
brilliant buoy upon the dusky water. Said the boy,
'Mista, what is yer got fer bait?' 'Patience,' replied
the man, 'En wha' is yer fishin' fer?' the boy asked,
'.Kor recreation' came the response. 'Ugh!" grunted
the boy, "pay-chance may be er good bait, but yer can't
ketch no recreation in dis yer pon' kase dere's nothin'
but er tader-poles en frogs in er heah! M Like me,
you see, my son, the man had patience and had the
judgment to select a spot where he couldn't catch
even 'recreation.'" Uncle Scott had now begun to
reel in his line and my son and I arranged our fish and
in a few minutes we three were plodding homeward
along the narrow mountain trail, which was grown
over with willows and high grass. We were tired and
wet, and by the time we recrossed the dam were quite
hungry. Having to rest our catch every now and
then made our return trip a slow one. My son was
58
light hearted over the sport of the day and the bag
of beauties he could show and talk about. Before
making the final slow climb to our domicile, I took
occasion to remind him that the true sportsman should
be charitable, and it would not be becoming in him
to criticize Uncle Scott before others on his poor
luck fishing. I told him the rule was to divide the
string among the party, and to speak of them as
l 'Our fish." This instruction he followed out in the
presence of his mother, sisters, and friends who
crowded about the front porch on our return to view
the specimens and to take "a snap shot" of them.
He did not, however, in thoughtless glee neglect to
tell them all how he had protected the sandwiches
intended for Uncle Scott and as to how the latter
went without his lunch.
Retiring to our room, wet shoes, stockings, under-
drawers and breeches were soon off and swinging
on the porch in the mountain breeze to dry. This
move was followed by cold sponge baths and clean
linen, as well as a careful putting away of materials
and implements. Our good cook Mary prepared the
fish for our breakfast and after a hearty supper my
son and I prepared for that night's rest which should
follow a laborpus day's sport. Our eyes closed to
the world after going over the details of the trip
with Uncle Scott, who finished a cigar, not forgetting
the ridiculous features, arid my boy had his eye teeth
cut in bass fishing. After thanking God for bed,
the boy made a last remark in slow, measured, half-
distinct words, "Fa-ther to catch bass you've got to
hustle, haven't you, and so you must do to make a
success at anything." We both of us regretted in the
morning that we had not seen the cook bleed the
59
fish the evening before by cutting their gills, and at
not seeing her hang them up one by one on a hook,
cut them through the skin around the back of the
head, carve out the dorsal and other fins and then pull
the skin off with a pair of pincers. This would have
been a new lesson to each of us. No less interesting
was the way the old negress told us how to prepare
and boil a bass, by sewing it up tightly in a linen
cloth, then covering with water and allowing to boil
slowly in a biscuit pan on the top of the stove.
60
RED ROCK.
Ise gwine down ter Red Rock,
Wha de water's smoove en deep,
Wha de shoa am low en sandy,
Wha de bluff am high en steep.
De ribber et makes en da,
En runs er mighty ben.
It's de place dey call de eddy,
Wha all de colors blen.
Hea' ol folks lub ter picnic,
En sing de low Ian' songs,
De gal en beau dey pull da,
De place ter dem belongs,
Bu' when de leaf am fallin'
En de fros' et glis'en roun,'
De fish'man he drop in da,
En call et lucky groun'.
Da de bass dey gedder,
En make er mighty flock,
Ef wan'ter know wha's fishin',
Jis try de ol' Red Rock.
61
BIG MEN AND BIG FISH.
AMERICAN history is replete with anecdotes of
distinguished men, who not only cleared the
forests, fought the savages, and established
boundary lines as pioneers, but who for scientific and
commercial purposes followed the trail, hunted the
forests and fished the streams. These citizens of
early and modern times have contributed much to the
history of our country and the welfare of civilization.
It is a great fortune that we enjoy today in being able
to hold out to the growing boys the example of their
industry, perseverance, hardships and principles as
most worthy of emulation. It has become firmly
established as a fact that hunting and fishing, the
study of nature in mountains, meadows and streams,
are prime factors contributing to the betterment and
years of mankind. Grover Cleveland, statesman and
citizen, embodied those qualities of heart and hand
which placed him in the front rank of American
sportsmen. He upheld the good there was in it and
was always ready to condemn the wrong. High-
minded and honorable in the conduct of affairs which
effected his country, he was likewise forward in
protecting the interests of the game and fish, and in
so doing enjoyed the advantage of long practical
experience.
I have hunted in the mountains of West Virginia
where the mountaineers laid down to that distin-
guished sportsman the law, "if you miss your shot at
the first deer which crosses your path, you must
suffer the penalty of having your shirt torn into
62
strips and divided among your colleagues." The
penalty, happily for the distinguished guest, was not
enforced.
It was Mr. Cleveland's pleasure and that of his ac-
companying friends to fish for small-mouthed black
bass in the Potomac River. Mr. Cleveland made
several trips for such sport upon that stream during
the years he was President. On one of them he
encountered rainy, inclement weather, yet, true to his
character, he stood up in a boat, covered with a
rain coat, and cast, with rod and reel ,until satisfied
that he could catch no fish. Mr. Cleveland no doubt
encountered that disappointment which follows to
any devotee of the rod who fails of success after a
hard trial and, appreciating what must have been his
feelings while on a trip to the Monocacy the day
following, I told my son that we would have to catch
the President a big bass because of his ill luck the
day before.
The river was clear, the wind calm, the water just
right as to temperature and depth, and anticipating
everything pleasant my boy and I were boated up
that stream, which of all others gets muddy the
quickest and clears the slowest. The day had long
been spent and our spirits drooped like the limbs of
the willows along the shore. I had told Boatman
Walters to take us home. As we trolled along indif-
ferently, with nearly every foot of line out, there was
a splash and a great commotion, which brought us to
realize that I had struck a large fish. Such it proved
to be, after ten minutes struggle in bringing it into
the boat, being without a landing net. My boy was
proud; so was I, and the boatman began to feel that
he had earned his hire.
63
We reached the City with our five and a half pound
bass that evening and my boy and I had planned to
keep it alive in a tub at home all night, if it
survived the train ride of an hour and a half.
All the fresh air possible was afforded it, and it soon
had full vigor when turned under the spigot. The
water was allowed to drip upon it all night long and
to run off proportionately, so that the bass was alive
in the morning. About noon I sent a novice as a
messenger to take the fish down to the White House
for Mr. Cleveland. When the messenger reached our
home and discovered the enormity of the fish and with
instructions to "bring it down alive," he was at his
wits end how to secure it. He and the servant girl
worked for an hour trying to catch the fish so as to
lift it out of the tub. As their arms would extend
the fish would splash and dash ferociously. Finally
it occurred to the messenger to permit the water to
run out of the temporary lake. This he did and then
he had no trouble to land his fish. He brought it
to me wrapped in a clean towel, well dampened with
water all in a deep new straw basket. Thus it went
to Assistant Secretary Pruden at the White House.
Mr. Pruden told me he immediately proceeded with
the package to the Cabinet room where the President
and his advisers were seated, and that on entering
he remarked, "Mr. President, a friend sends you a
fine bird," at which the fish jumped out of the basket.
It was captured and turned over to the President's
driver with instructions to have it knocked in the head
and prepared for dinner. My son's importance was
more apparent after this catch than formerly, and I
suggested that if he lived and did not forget the
incident and Mr. Cleveland lived he might pay him
a friendly call someday and remind him of the big
small-moiled bass of the Monocacy.
While President Cleveland was an adept in the
use of the gun and rod, to President Rosevelt, the
sportsmen of America pay high tribute, but this dis-
tinguished gentleman has given more attention to the
shooting of large game than to the field and fishing.
Not that he is unfamiliar with bird hunting and
fishing, for he is an expert in all lines as a sportsman,
but as a historian and scientific writer, he has found
in the heavier pursuit the necessary material for the
entertainment and enlightenment of the student. Pos-
sessing the superior accomplishments of a great hunter,
he embodies those high attributes which go for the
protection of game and fish, forjests, and streams.
Well equipped as a man from every point of view
his work furnishes a magnificent study for every
young citizen of the Republic. His earlier years were
spent on a ranch in the Northwest and there he
learned to master the horse and the gun. The
saddle affords him the luxury of a couch and the
bigger the game the greater his delight to pursue it.
The last few years have recorded him as a "mighty
hunter" and his admirers have found him equal in
skill and Durance to any man who ever followed the
trail. Many trophies emphasize his wonderful work
with the rifle, and in bringing down big game he has
always followed the precept of giving his foe a fair
chance. History is already replete with many interest-
ing pages of the work of Theodore Roosevelt, the
hunter, the student of nature, and the boys of the
land will profit by its reading. The following fishing
experience of the President proves a delightful morsel
for any one:
65
George W. Powers and Franke E. McCourt spent
their vacations on Long Island and a fishing trip
took them to Oyster Bay. They had indifferent luck
and little to compensate them for their trouble in the
way of incident or sport until young Powers hooked
a dogfish.
Strive as both could, it was beyond their efforts to
get the prize into the boat. They exerted every means
within reach and tried every expedient in vain and
were about to give up the task when their trouble
attracted the attention of two men and a woman in
a boat. ^
They pulled overrule boys and one of the men,
encouraging the youths to hold on, coached them and
lent a hand, and in a few minutes the big fish was
splashing and flundering in the bottom of their boat.
With many thanks for the assistance given them the
boys rowed ashore.
Afterwards in talking the incident over, it occurred
to young McCourt that the face of the man who had
assisted them was familiar. The broad smile that
showed the gleaming rows of teeth, the eye-glasses
and commanding figure, convinced the boys that their
unknown friend must be President Roosevelt. Once
suggested, they determined to make conviction sure
and wrote a joint letter to Oyster Bay asking Mr.
Roosevelt if their surmise was correct. In answer to
the message this letter came back.
WHITE HOUSE, Oyster Bay,
July, 1904.
Dear Young Friends:
I am glad to hear from you, and congratulate you
upon the fish you caught the other day. I was pleased
66
we were able to help you with the dogfish. With best
wishes, believe me,
Sincerely yours,
THEODORE ROOSEVELT.
To say, in the President's favorite expression, that
the boys were "delighted" at this would but faintly
convey an idea of their pride and pleasure. Their
fishing adventure was told and retold scores of times
to companions and friends, and, of course, the part
President Roosevelt took in it was not lost in the
recounting. His personal message was exhibited in
triumph and the young fishermen were the heroes
of their part of the country in the eyes of their
associates, not to mention their proud relatives.
My son and I on several occasions after capturing
specimens of the small mouthed variety of bass were
afforded much pleasure in sending strings to the
President, and having attained the proud distinction /
of having his catches thus erjpyed my boy feels that 4f
his exploits among the streams of the mountains were
of the loftiest character. Such recognition of his
skill and industry made impressions upon him as will,
I am sure, encourage him to continue to participate
in recreative pursuits of a kind that develope the
mind, muscle and morals.
Grover Cleveland Big Fisherman.
BOATING ON THE CANAL.
John drives the mules from morn till night,
And often later when the moon is light,
His bed is hard and his food the same,
Both run short when the power is lame.
John cracks the whip and all things move,
That he's not happy you can't disprove,
No cares of business, trials of state,
No fear of collision when the ship is late.
John plods along and pushes the mule,
For he has no studies and knows no school,
The warble of the birds, the crispy air,
Give joy to his heart and curls his hair.
It's his only home and without a mother,
But a sister fair gently turns the rudder,
She delights to respond to the name of Sal,
They Captain a boat on the old canal.
The Chesapeake and Ohio Canal keeps company
with the Potomac River as it winds it way from
Washington west through the Blue Ridge Mountains
and in its day ivas a great transportation way.
A
TROUT FISHING IN UTAH.
LL boys are interested in wholesome stories
told in a manner that they can comprehend.
The narrative should always be keenly alive
to the subject, however, and select it with a view of
attracting close attention, and demeanor, manner
of delivery, and earnestness must be so studied as to
be effectual. When a young man my experiences
on the frontier afnong the Ute Indians, were of a
character that might have been woven into dime
novels, but there was much more satisfaction in giving
, them to the boys first-handed than to have them
jl prepared with embejishments and devoured through
yellow covers. They should be told in such a way as
not to make the boys want to wear belts, bowie
knives and revolvers. It afforded me much amuse-
ment to relate stories to the boys, to be followed by
explanation of disasterous effects that would detract
from the usual inclinations to go and do likewise.
A fishing experience had while going from Camp
Douglass near Salt Lake City through Strawberry
Valley to the South was much appreciated by my
son, and was re-told to him several times in order
to afford him the desired satisfaction. Our party
on that trip comprised several Government Commis-
sioners, myself, and thirty-five United States soldiers
as guard, under Lieutenant Penney. Two ambulances
and two military wagons, drawn by four mules each,
made up the Caravan. We had traveled through
Echo Canyon, crossed the Provo River, tipped over
72
our supplies, encountered Indians, and had other
adventures, when from the high mountains we looked
down upon the beautiful valley of Strawberry, its face
broken by the serpentine windings of a stream by the
same name. We were told that this stream was full
of fish and that it would furnish water for our coffee
and tired mules. When we reached the low lands
early in the afternoon we went into camp, and mem-
bers of our party sought to catch some fish for the
evening meal. There were many of them, but so shy
that with all the ingenuity we could devise but few
were caught. About this time when our pleasant
anticipations of a few hours before began to vanish, a
hearty looking ranchman appeared with a bucket full
and they were quickly purchased and almost as soon
on the fire. The native had repaired our shattered
hopes and we all wondered how he managed to provide
the trout in such quantities after our skilled anglers
had failed. Twenty years later it was my pleasure
to meet the same plainsman who had sold us the trout
by the bucket full in Strawberry Valley. He had
become a bond holder in New York. Laughingly
he related that he had engaged his cow-boys with
picks and shovels, to turn the direction of the stream
which watered Strawberry Valley. A point in the /
stream had been danjed so as to alter its course. This tHY
left the old channel below the dam barren of water
except in pools, where the trout had swarmed in
great numbers, and from which he had shoveled the
fish into the bucket which he had brought to us. This /
would be regarded as a d/stardly trick in these days & /
and it would have been condemned in those no doubt,
had we then known the truth, but we were all awfully
73
hungry and hundreds of miles from civilization.
This story of the pot hunter, while it possessed
rather a humorous side when fully learned, met with
disapproval by my boy, which should be shared in by
all modern sportsmen.
A BLUE RIDGE SNAKE STORY.
It was a night of substantial rest . A brilliant ball
of fire creeping over the mountain heights announced
the opening of another charming day and the ringirg
of the six o'clock bell on the village church awakened
us. This was to be given to reading, writing and
tales of the sport. An hour after breakfast found
our little company beneath the accustomed shade. The
seasoned hammocks and trampled grass were occupied
and lounged upon as usual. An incident which
was given publicity the day before, was related, and
it made a pleasant chapter for my boy to add to his
growing volume. It fell to my lot to repeat it as it
had come to me. Doctor Harban a well- known
expert with the rod and reel found entertainment
in the Blue Ridge section of the country, where he was
one of a party of several who owned a pleasant retreat.
Their camp, which included a rustic house, was located
near the summit of the mountains. It was a difficult
road which led up to it, and the Doctor six months
before was engaged with several native workmen
cutting, filling and making it passable for pedestrian
and team. While busily engaged with shovel and pick,
a workman astonished the Doctor and others by cry-
ing out, "There goes the biggest rattle snake I ever
saw, but he's gone." With this, the Doctor remarked,
"If you come across that snake again, you get him
74
and bring him up to the house to me and I'll give
you a five- dollar bill." The good Doctor never for
a moment thought there would be a response to his
generous proffer, and the topic was dropped and lost
sight of, until, as I have stated, six young summer
months had passed away.
It was a cool, snappish evening. The air was crisp,
the owl hooted and the distant screech of the B. & O.
locomotive sounded shrill and clear, the only sound
of civilization. A party of friends occupied the broad
veranda of the rustic club house. Their laughing and
singing was interrupted suddenly by the approach of
a tall, long, lean individual attired in humble clothes
with pants in his boots, and who carried a box under
his arm. Stepping from the gravel path onto the
porch he said, "Gemmen, is der docta hea" ? "Doctor
who," was asked by all. "Doctor 'Bin," responded
the stranger/ "Doctor Harban is here," said one of
the party, "Well, dat's der man." At this the spokes-
man for the party proceeded to find the doctor and in
a few moments returned with him. "Well sir, what
will you have? I am Doctor Harban." "Wall, doctor
I hea' yer givin' five dollers fer rattlers and I brought
yer up a couple." "Rattlers," remarked the Doctor
with emphasis, at which time the entire party of
associates and friends began to beat a retreat. "I
don't want any rattlers." "Wall, I was tol' so by der
man on der road." Explanations followed and the
Doctor compromised matters by remunerating the
stranger for his trouble and the further burden of
carrying the box of snakes as far off as he could
to complete the job by killing them.
It is useless to say, congratulations were in order
and the doctor has never been charged with having
75
acquired "snakes." This is but one of the experiences
a fisherman in the mountains is liable to meet with,
and my son and our company all begged to be excused
from such an introduction.
I said to my son that there were many unpleasant
experiences to be encountered in every walk of life,
and that they often arise as if to test the thought-
fulness, ingenuity and courage of a man. Not that
encounters or meetings with snakes are frequent, but
with other subjects, some of them far more disagree-
able. "Yes," said he, "snakes in the boots." "Well
yes, "I responded, "such are known, and they con-
stitute a most dangerous class, the most undesirable.
It is not uncommon, however, for the fisherman while
wading streams or prowling around rocky or rugged
shores to meet with reptiles. On one or two occasions
it befell my lot to kill moccasins and in the foot hills
of the Blue Ridge where some of the finest fishing
places are located, and the copperhead and other
venomous snakes are occasionally encountered. In
such a meeting the sportsman wearing low shoes is
somewhat exposed.
THE LOST WATCH.
"Difficult River" within those fields where was
fought the war of the Rebellion is a deep, winding
stream which flows into the Potomac River. Here
my boy was proud to fish, because it brought to him
thoughts of the Battle of Bull Run and the defense
of Washington. Many times he would put questions
to me regarding the scenes enacted in that vicinity in
war times. Most of the boys have an interest in such
matters and fishing was almost a secondary con-
sideration when we would make a trip to "Difficult."
There was a friend of ours who was instrumental in
stocking the stream with fish, and he had many rough
experiences along "Snake Den" and "Little Difficult"
when he went out on a recreation trip. On one of
these tours he journeyed for miles through the dense
underbrush, and up and down the foot-hills, which
make up the country through which the stream I have
mentioned flows. A plain every day citizen, not an
expert fisherman, but nevertheless devoted to the
art, he would relate with much pride his travels,
tribulations and pleasures. On this occasion he took
a vacation from his labors and fished the creek
earnestly with poor success. Not only did he capture
few fish but the morning following a hard day's trial,
a heavy gold watch which had been worn by his
grandfather was missing. Great was Mr. Hall's
sorrow and chagrin. To think that a prize relic was
gone was enough without giving thought to the bad
record he would have as a sportsman, should the tale
of the travel become public property. It can well
be imagined he was not long in returning to the scene
of his exploits. An early train, after a short run,
landed him at Hunter's Mills, and he soon had all the
boys who lived in the surrounding country, upon
promise of reward, searching for the missing watch.
His last trail along the stream was still fresh in his
memory and he earnestly followed it from start to
finish without success. With sa|d heart and tears in
his eyes he proceeded to retrace the course he had
followed. The day was nearing its close ; the warbling
of the birds had given place to the music of the frogs
and the world to Mr. Hall was said and dreary. As
he carelessly walked along he peered into the pools
he had crossed or fished. One of these was several
77
feet in depth, and the water as clear as crystal. A
mossy bank overhung it. Stooping down, with a
stick he carried he pushed away the brush and grass
which shaded the spot from the bank, and a glistening
object, or bright rock, at the bottom of the pool
attracted his attention. He went into the water and
down as far as it went and picked up the lost time
piece. It was uninjured, that is, the water had not
gotten into it. Great was his joy, in fact, so great
that he heralded the news of his good fortune and
rewarded those who had joined him in the search.
Our friend was not long in seating himself to a good
country supper, and he wears the gold watch of his
grandfather today and points to the incident of its
loss and finding with great interest. This story was
listened to with much enjoyment by my boy, who has
since had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Hall and view-
ing the watch, which for many hours ocupied a place tf
among the fishes.
THE UNSUCCESSFUL HUNT.
My boy was so persistent that I ventured to relate
to his friends, who had gathered under the usual
shade, the experience of a fishing and hunting party
that had encamped opposite Cotoctan on the Potomac
River during the preceding autumn. It was under the
guidance of my personal friend, Mr. Milton, who was
a most generous host, and being thus renowned he
had endeavored to sustain that reputation by provid-
ing every equipment for comfort and every luxury
in the shape of provisions. The party numbered eight
congenial souls, who at home were engaged as Bankers,
Lawyers, Florists and Merchants. None of them were
masters in the use of the rod and reel, and each
78
possessed a limited knowledge of fire-arms. Not-
withstanding neglected education in this regard, they
were willing to learn and partake of the disappoint-
ments which might follow a week's study in the open.
There was no lack of industry and wit in the crowd,
and attired in new hunting suits they all worked hard
in unloading their equipage and supplies from the
local passenger train and transporting the same across
the river in boats. Before the sun had set tents were
up, water was boiling and necessary camping imple-
ments unpacked. Efforts to obtain fish for the evening
meal were only partially successful, but after the first
night's rest the fishing was renewed with better
results. At an early hour of the second day out Mr.
Milton uncoupled his gun, brushed up his hunting
suit, and announced that he would proceed to bag
squirrels enough for breakfast. The remainder of the
party busied themselves about the camp. After climb-
ing over rocks, crawling through bushes, looking up
into high trees until his eyes were sore, the would-be
huntsman became disappointed at finding no squirrels
and sat down on a log to rest his weary limbs. While
thus engaged varied scenes of younger days flitted
through his mind, and, dishearted, on the verge of
retracing his steps to camp, he was approached by
three country lads. The elder carried a dozen or
more squirrels from his belt, and as he saluted the
discouraged Mr. Milton, he drawled a "how are ye,"
and asked "do ye know them thar fellows in camp
down thar, end would they buy eny squirrels." No
more joyful notes could have been wafted to the ears
of Mr. Milton. Eagerly he replied, "Do you want to
sell 'em, "and how much do you want?" A Dollar
and a quarter paid for the bunch and no time was lost
79
in parting company with the traders, But, said Mr.
Milton, I must show to my associates some evidence
of wear and tear and expended energy, and let them
hear shots from my gun ring out. This brilliant
thought was put into execution. He walked into mud
holes, besmeared his new suit, fell over logs, scrambled
down short precipices, fired his gun off a dozen times,
and finally exhausted after a mile's tramp, dropped
into camp apparently more dead than alive. Resting
his gun against a tree, he tossed the string of
squirrels onto the ground in front of his companions
and remarked, "there, I have killed food for the break-
fast." Delighted over the apparent success and smiles
of Mr. Milton all joined in complimenting him as a
marksman and a hunter. "Good boy," "Bully fellow,"
"You are no tenderfoot," were some of the expressions
freely given. The next evening long after the squirrel
feast had been forgotten, when the whole company was
quietly partaking of supper, Mr. Milton suddenly
showed signs of great agitation, which was beginning
to alarm his associates. There was shouts of laughter,
and loud poking of fun, when a moment later, the
country lad whom Mr. Milton had bought the squir-
rels of the day before walked in upon the scene and
remarked "does the man who bought dem squirrels
yesterday want ter buy eny more today?" The jig
was up and all the congratulations which had been
showered upon Mr. Milton a few hours before were
withdrawn.
The anecdote amused the boys, but carried with it
the moral, "Be sure your sins will find you out." I
told my boy and his companions that deception might
prevail in fishing and hunting for awhile, but the truth
would sooner or later come to the surface and embar-
rassment might follow.
80
What Ailes The Bass.
A PLEASANT DISAPPOINTMENT.
My boy was an attentive listener and had early
been instructed not to say anything of anybody unless
it was something good. I often told him of the mag-
nificent accomplishments of would-be fishermen, some
of whom he had come in contact with during our
rambles. If he heard of their omissions or short-
comings he would always view them from a charitable
standpoint and remark, "Well ; he'll become an expert
like me some day." My own early disappointments
while being educated in the p^catorial art afforded him
much interest and at times merriment when related by
friends or myself. An original companion was Tom
Irwin, who would discard boots and socks, roll his
pantaloons up to his knees and wade pools, jump from
stone to stone, and stand on a sun-heated rock with
perfect indifference. My legs were so much softer
than his that there were many swift places in the
river over which I would jump after he had given me
a hand, or reached me the butt of his rod. Tom was
very fatherly and instructed and cared for me as he
would a son. When wading across or through a heavy
and rapid volume of water he was always careful to
see that I was not washed down, my weight being only
about one hundred and thirty pounds. Tom was a
laboring man, but honest, active and fearless, and
possessed the best ideas of when, where and how
to fish for small-mouthed bass. Now and then he
would take a day off to accompany and instruct me
in the art. My son was all eyes and ears when I
told him Tom and I had traveled over four miles
one bright morning to try fishing at a place called
83
"Millville." There the Shenandoah came down over
several miles of rocks forming- a young Niagara,
and a race or run-way supplied abundance of water
to operate ^n old but picturesque flour mill. The
Superintendent of the mill had constructed a mammoth
and substantial fish pot in connection with it, where
he caught hundreds of eels and suckers. It was in
this direction we took our way. When within a mile
of the mill, the river changed from a beautiful clear
green to an ugly yellow color, the result of showers
along its upper course, and our spirits fell to a very
low ebb over the changed condition. We concluded to
complete the journey however, and after reaching the
mill found the fish pot full of small suckers. There
were at least two hundred of the fish jumping around
in the wooden pot. With permission from the Super-
intendent of the mill, big hearted James Gore, we
took out about a hundred of the fish and run them
on a string, arranged in the order of their size. The
neatness with which this was done made the fish look
attractive. Then refreshed with a glass or two of
good country milk and a sandwich, we made the
return trip to town, and the country hotel where
fifty guests assembled to gaze upon the mag-
nificent string of "trout," as it was given out,
that we had captured. The string was presented to
the proprietor, who with much promptness and hap-
piness accepted the mess. They were cleaned, soaked
over-night in salt, and fried brown for the breakfast
of the guests, some of whom to this day delight in
referring to the beautiful trout and treat which was
afforded them on that occasion.
I explained to my son that the guests had named the
fish, and while there was a color of deception in the
presentation, it was not an unhealthy meal, carried no
unpleasant results with it, and therefore became a
legitimate fish offering.
A SHORT SERMON.
My son you will find the fraternity of fishermen
embraces the good, the better and the best of men and
their influences tend to elevate and improve those who
partake of its pleasures, and who are not so good. A
recreation which is followed by all classes and which
works to the betterment and refinement of mankind
must be worth the while. You will find others who
decry the art of fishing, some because they do not
enjoy it, those who are ignorant of its pleasures,
and a few cranks who justify their non-participation
because they believe it cruel. A year or so ago while on
a trip with my friends Doctor Henry Fry and Rev. R.
H. McKim, the former a prominent surgeon, the latter
a talented Divine, a railroad brakesman remarked to
the Reverend gentleman "Do you not think it is wrong
to shoot quail?" The good man replied about as
follows: "The suffering of a bird when shot is
probably no greater than that of a fish when taken
out of the vital element to die; and if our Saviour,
Jesus Christ, gave his approval, as He repeatedly did,
to taking fish out of the water, it is not likely that
He would disapprove of killing birds that are fit for
food, provided the destruction be not wanton or
excessive."
This brief, but pointed, sermon should be read and
regarded by all fishermen. It means that fish are
intended to be caught for food, but not in numbers
85
more than are necessary. There are men who display
their destructive character and greed by taking all
the fish they can without regard to necessities. Such a
practice is reprehensible and the perpetrator does not
deserve to be recognized as a legitimate sportsman.
The individual who will criticize and lament such
tactics in the presence of a "pot hunter" will soon bring
him to a realization of the error of his way and
accomplish his reform. If good results do not follow,
such a sportsman should be drummed out of the Camp
of the reputable.
86
Harban Has Two of a Kind.
STORIES OF LARGE BASS
It matters not where you go along the Potomac
River and its tributaries you will meet some one
who has captured "the largest bass that was ever
seen." Those who come home with fish will often
tell you how the biggest one got away. Some times
their stories are true, not as many of them perhaps
as are those told by the class I first mentioned. Old
settlers who have lived and boated along the river
delight in rehearsing early experiences, and while
some of them repeat their tales so often that the fish
grow to enormous size, they must have occasionally
come in contact with enormous bass. George Walters,
at the Monocacy, told me about fishing off the
Aqueduct which crosses the river near his home, and
of having caught bass weighing five and six pounds,
and hoisting them with hook and line twenty and thirty
feet in order to land them.
John Miller, the Newspaper correspondent, took in
one which broke the heavy rope with which he had
the fish tied to the rear of his boat, and the bass is
estimated to have weighted over six pounds.
A year ago, in the month of October, the writer,
while fishing near the Red Rock, landed one which
weighed exactly six pounds. The fish did not take
the bait ferociously but gently, then began to "walk
off with the line. That was reeled in and then relaxed
as the fish began to make frantic efforts to haul the
boat from its anchor. By degrees the mighty specimen
was drawn nearer the boat and finally Mr. Walters
was enabled to place the landing net under the fish
and hoist him into the boat. That was the largest
fish of the small-mouthed variety that was caught
89
during the season, but thejiextjiay William Locraft,
not to be outdone, while fishing near the same place,
secured one which weighed six and a half pounds.
After placing it on view for several days he had a cast
made of the giant specimen, which has since been
colored, and which now adorns the National Museum
as an exhibit.
H. Joseph Hunter, who enjoys an enviable reputa-
tion as a fis^man, tells how he lost a big one. The
water was in good condition, and with his family
boatman, Charley, he ploughed along over his favorite
water. He had caught sixteen bass that weighed one
to four pounds, when the espied a sunken log. It was
about six inches under the water, which was four feet
deep with a muddy bottom. "Hold up Charley," he
said, "I see a log and a good one must be at home."
Dear Charley, always on the alert, brought the boat
to a standstill. They were about one hundred and
forty feet from the spot, just the right distance. He
reeled in and examined his artificial bait, made of
fat pork, in imitation of a minnow, called by him
the "Zulu Queen" and found it in perfect condition.
"Well !" as he Statesjto sooner had it struck the water
when the biggest swirl you ever saw was made. I
exclaimed, "Charley, he is at homeland at once struck,
and then a terrible lunge was made. My game not
being able to reach the log, started up in the air, and
went higher than any sycamore on the Potomac.
When it came down, off down the river it starfed,
and went through the water so fast that the suction
drew the mud from the bottom of the river and made
it so muddy jhat fishing was broken up for ten days.
This is the last I ever saw of him, but Charley said
he would have weighed as many pounds as he went
90
feet in the air. Charley and I just looked at each
other with amusement. I finally exclaimed, we'll
try it again, as there is a larger bass in the Potomac
than has ever been caught."
Mr. John M. Kenyon, of Toledo, Ohio, informs me
that in 1883 he caught a bass which was the largest
small-mouthed specimen he ever saw. It weighed
seven pounds and two ounces, and was twenty-three
and three-quarters inches long. He had been a per-
sistent fisherman, and uses the same rod for bait and
fly casting, a nine and half foot, six- ounce bamboo.
In bait casting he uses the same leader without sinker
and cast as with a fly only with slower motion.
A. F. Dressel, of Baltimore, Md., an expert with rod
and reel, some years ago took a small-mouthed bass
from the Potomac River, between Knoxville and
Brunswick, which weighed seven pounds and one six-
teenth ounce.
THE PICTURE IN THE WA/VE.
There are few fishermen who do not witness at
one time or another movements of the bass which
would induce the belief that they possess the senses
which belong to the human being. When the rivers
are clear and the wind down the bass are frequently
seen listlessly running about, and if a bait is thrown
almost within their mouths it will be avoided. Such
inaction may be observed during the spawning season,
or when the water is very warm during a heated
period. The fish have at other times been noticed
racing to overtake a minnow or in making warfare
upon the small minnows along the shore. Not infre-
quently does he jump into the open in an attempt to
91
capture a fly or bug which may be struggling on the
surface of the river.
These movements furnish food for study and should
be noted by the boy who wants to learn all he can
concerning the creatures. Of the many instances which
interested my boy and I, one occurred in the Potomac
near the Monocacy River an evening in July, which
would have made a picture for an artist, and which
will never be forgotten by either of us. The sun
had gone down and our boatman was slowly pulling
us in the direction of home. We were moving up
stream and I had run out about fifty yards of line
with a live bait at the end. The boat crossed a
ripple, about the middle of which was a continual
wave with a high crest, which, after we had passed
over, appeared like a sheet of glass rising from the
surface of the water. My trolling bait, at the end of
a modernately slack-line, reachefd the wave and was
lifted up into it so that we could distinctly observe the
chub as if in the middle of a glass in a frame, the
bait parallel with the surface of the river. At that
instant a one- pound, small-mouthed bass attacked the
chub, face to face with it, and hung to the hook. The
whole picture of the floating bait and bass, one after
the other, was clearly and distinctly portrayed as if
behind a glass on the wall. It was over in a moment,
but it could have been snapped by a camera had it
been anticipated. It was a most remarkable and
inspiring presentation, and my old boatman, George
Walters, never forgets to relate the incident to
interest willing listeners. The "Picture in the Wave,"
as we named it, was worth all the fish we had caught
and its like will never be seen again.
92
THE NET WITH NO BOTTOM.
JOHN AND THE LAWYER.
On one occasion T. Walter Fowler and several
gentlemen were fishing and the elder of them was
desirous of trying one of his inventions in the form
of a net for keeping fish alive. This net was of tubular
form and about three feet long, with a draw string at
the bottom and a wide mouth held open by a ring.
The catch that day was above the average and some
good fish were taken; and as soon as removed from
the hook the fish were dropped into the open mouth
of the net, which was hung over the side of the boat
and was all submerged except the upper end. When
the day's sport was over and the boat put to shore,
the net was lifted from the water when to the amaze-
ment of both men not a fish was to be found. The
explanation for this was apparent when it was found
that the old gentleman had forgotten to close the lower
end of his trap net when he put it overboard, and
censequently as he put his fish into the top end they
at once passed out at the bottom; and it is still a
mooted question whether the fish caught that day
represented a number of fish, or the same fish caught
a number of times. What was said when the empty
net was lifted from the water was more forcible than
delicate and should not be repeated.
The trials of a fisherman are many and varied,
and was it not for the particular pleasure of antici-
pation" the sport would lose some of its most ardent
admirers. Then again it is often the case that the
trials do not come singly. An instance of this is
well remembered by a party of adherents of Izaak
93
Walton, who went out for a few days sport to Goose
Creek, Va. Profiting by pervious experience, it was
determined by two of the party to take along with
them a supply of live bait, and accordingly a large
crated shipping can was obtained, likewise a liberal
supply of smelt; and after much care and the loss of
many fish the party finally arrived at the little country
station and "Devery" like promptly patronized a
pump, for fresh water for the bait still remaining alive.
A springless farm wagon was soon engaged for the
five mile trip across the country, over rough roads
and through thick woods. Progress was slow and
painful, but after the shipping can had bursted one
of its seams by the pressure of water and the severe
jolting which it received, and after the transfer of
the smelt to a milk can obtained from a friendly
farmer along the way, and the overturning of this can
and the spilling of the bait and the picking up of the
same from the bottom of the wagon, the tried and
somewhat disheartened party finally reached Uncle
Henry's comfortable farm house and, after depositing
the remaining live bait in a live box in the river,
were soon ready for supper. The next day two of
the party, a Doctor and a Lawyer, concluded to "lay
off" for the day while the others tried their luck.
The Doctor had brought his personal supply of bait
in his bucket and had sunken it from the stern of a
boat at the river landing, and with a satisfied calmly
air, though somewhat impatiently, waited for the
coming of next day when he would "try his luck."
As time dragged somewhat slowly for the two good
sportsmen, it was suggested by the lawyer late in the
afternoon, that they stroll down to the river to await
the return of those who had gone out to fish, a
94
suggestion which the Doctor readily assented to. After
a short walk the boat landing was reached, when,
much to the dismay of the Doctor who had tied his
bucket of bait to a boat and sunken it in the stream,
the discovery was made that boat and bait were both
missing. No greater misfortune could have occurred,
for the prospect of starting fishing the next morning
without a supply of bait was not a pleasing one,
especially when all "the other fellows" were well
supplied with this important and necessary adjunct
of a fishing trip. Prompt and vigorous search was
made for the missing boat and bucket of bait, but
no trace of either could be found; and neither of the
returning fisherman, who had spent the day on thfe
water, could give any clue or offer any balm to the
unfortunate Doctor, but with that generosity which
is a part of the stock in trade of a true sportsman,
it was arranged that some of the others would give
the Doctor a supply of bait to start out with the
following morning. Upon the return of the party
at twilight to the farm house a report was made of
the missing boat and bucket of bait, and many theories
were advanced as to their disappearance. There was
employed on the farm for various light chores a
diminutive negro, of about ten years of age, by the
name of John. After inquiry it developed that John
and a stable companion, somewhat his senior, had been
allowed a few hours off that Sunday afternoon and
had concluded to take a spin on the river. When
this fact was made known suspicion naturally rested
upon John and his companion, and to ascertain what
had become of the boat and bait, the lawyer member
of the party took John in charge and subjected him to
a rigid cross examination. John first denied any
95
knowledge of the boat, but upon a threat to take him
to Leesburg and put him in the lock-up he weakened
and tearfully admitted that his companion had removed
the bucket of bait from the boat and had hidden it in
the bushes on the shore near the landing, intending
to call for it later. Further cross examination failed
to weaken John's former statement, so the matter
was considered explained ; and upon request that John
go with the Doctor to where the bucket was hidden,
the two set out for the river with a lantern to light
their path, it being now after dark. Upon arriving
at the River bank John pointed out the place where
the bucket was hidden, but upon search no bucket was
found, and the two returned to the farm house with
negative results. John was again taken in hand by
the lawyer and further questioned, and he was taken
to the barn yard and told to get in a buggy already
there with the horse hitched, as he must go to Lees-
burg and be jailed. Here in the stillness of the night
and away from all others, John began to weep and
finally confessed that his companion in the boat had
taken up the bucket of bait and hauled it far out into
the stream, and then pushed the boat adrift and made
for parts unknown. This was the most likely tale and
was accepted as a fact and John was threatened with
all sorts of dire things and sent to bed. The next
day the Doctor had to depend on the generosity of
his other friends for bait and all hope of recovery of
boat and bait was given up. However, the farmer not
wishing to lose his boat started out the following
morning for a search of the river, and when near
Seneca he was told by a boatman that an empty boat
with oars had been seen floating down stream, but
had not been caught by the boatman because the latter
was afraid it contained a dead man. Continuing his
search, the farmer soon found his boat and hanging
over the stern was the bait bucket, with the bait all
in good shape and none the worse for the five-mile trip
with the abandoned boat. Great was the joy of the
Doctor when he returned that day to be told of the
success of the farmer's trip ; and the laugh was on the
lawyer, who confessed that John was, for his age,
the most polished story-teller he had ever met with."
97
It's Not a Fish Story I Catch 'em Everyway.
NOT INTENDED TO DECEIVE.
The late Elphonzo Young an accomplished sports-
man, related for the edification of the boys this
interesting narrative:
It is a habit with some thoughtless persons to cast
slurs upon fish, and to ridicule fishermen and fish
stories, and some even go so far as to question the
veracity and truthfulness of fish stories in general..
Having this in mind, I have always made a point of
adhering strictly to the truth in speaking of fish.
Some hold that it is cruel to catch a fish upon a
hook, and assert that to hook a fish in the mouth
gives the fish great pain, but I am convinced that the
average fish does not suffer as much from being
hooked and drawn out of the water as it does in
thinking of the lies that will be told about its size
and weight after it is dead.
Fish as a general thing are affectionate, and I
mention an incident that came under my personal
observation that proves to me that they are grate-
ful and appreciate kind treatment.
A gentleman in New York State had a large and
well-stocked trout pond, and his little daughter, six
years old, took great pleasure in feeding the fish.
She went regularly every day and threw the food into
the pond, scattering it on the surface of the water,
and took great delight in seeing the fish jump after
it., sometimes they leaped entirely out of the water,
and the little girl would clap her hands and shout
in childish glee. The fish got to know her, and when
she ran along the bank and called them, they came
to the edge of the water in great numbers, and
101
wagged their tails with delight. They would eat from
her hand, and follow her all around the pond.
One day as she was running along the bank she
caught her foot against something and plunged head-
long into the water. Instantly the fish rushed to her
rescue. They formed a solid mass under her and
held her above the water until her father ar^ved and 97
rescued her from her perilous position. Her life
was saved, and her kindness to the fish was re-
warded."
NO GOOD TO CUSS.
A short story with a big moral for Anglers was
delivered to us by my late friend, Doctor William P.
Young.
Around the bend of the deep hole near the boat-
landing of the Hampshire Sportman's Club, on the
beautiful South branch of the Potomac, four miles
above Romney, West Virginia, half-a-dozen natives
of the neighborhood watched the long poles to which
were tied their toad-baited lines. The patriarch of
the party, a sturdy six-foot septusgenarian, wearing
a long white goatee of the well known "Uncle Sam"
pattern, with pole stuck in the soil, squatted, and
chawed, and watched.
Aroused suddenly by "a big bite," he grabbed the
fifteen foot pole (not an inch less), that was bent
almost to the surface of the stream, and gave a power-
ful jerk. As a big bass floundered in the shallow
water near the shore, and broke away, we listened
from our point of vantage in a boat nearby, for the
lurid expletives which certain ( ?) city folks indulge
on such occasions. Without exhibiting the least
102
excitement, he exclaimed, in a deep, drawling tone,
"That must 'a bin a fi-pounder!;" and called to a
boy, "Aw aw Jim ! Bring me another toad."
Meeting him the next day, at the same place, we
said ; "You didn't let out a single cuss word yesterday,
when you lost that big bass." With a grim smile he
replied: "That wouldn't 'a done no good."
103
Hamilton's Short Line.
WHO CAUGHT THE FISH.
The enthusiastic Walter S. Harban, was relating
some of his remarkable experiences, and said that a
few years ago in company with several other gentle-
men, after breaking Camp on the Shennadoah, near
Bentonville, Va., he boated down the river as far as
Harper's Ferry, West Virginia, making the trip in
three days. The first night out they stopped at a farm
house ten miles below Riverton, Virginia. Upon
approaching the shore of the place, the water being
shallow for some distance, a Common Cur Dog was
standing well out in the stream. As he paid no
attention to them, nothing was thought of him until
when leaving the boat for the night, the dog appeared
and had with him a wriggling bass. The next morn-
ing while sitting on the porch talking to the pro-
prietor, the dog appeared on the front lawn, this time
carrying in his mouth a fine Black Bass, weighing
not less than two pounds. They weie then reminded
of the incident the evening before and the natural
query was, where in the deuce he got them. The owner
of the dog informed them that since a puppy, when
hungry, he would go to the river several hundred
yards away and catch fish and eat them, that it was
not unusual for him to bring in much larger fish, and
upon depriving him of them he would return to the
river and catch more. They were also informed that
a well known Angler of Washington, often visited
his place, and as this same Angler has reported many
large catches in the Shenandoah, it can well be sur-
mized who caught the fish, Angler or the dog ?
107
QUEER CATCHES.
Henry Talbott one of the Inter State Commerce
authorities is also known to many as a sportsman of
rare ability, not only with rod and reel, but with
pen and ink said to my boy :
"A modern writer on angling commenting on the
stories of queer catches with the artificial fly is dis-
posed to be very humorous at the expense of the
awkwardness which could catch a haystack, yet it is
safe to say if the author never caught anything on
his fly but the trout, his experience had been limited
to northern rock waters and probably limited too
as to occasions.
The fly on wooden shores is like to fasten in the
back cast to an inaccessible limb and, as evidence the
occurance is common enough, there is a patent knife
on sale to be attached to the rod, to release the
tackle ; from a canoe in like waters he is lucky who
never fastens to a cat tail or ledge far behind him.
A friend walking along a retaining wall trying for a
bass at dusk heard a yelp behind him as he retrieved,
and found he had caught a favorite setter in the
nose. Birds and bats are occasionally attracted by
small flies and taken, and may often be seen to start
for the flying lure.
But the catches in front are occasionally as start-
ling. The dogfish is a bottom feeder, yet an eight
pounder has been taken in shallow water with a
number six fly. Cat fish are bottom feeders as well,
but a comrade enthusiastic enough to fish early and
late, has taken not only cat fish, but eels upon number
twelve flies.
Perhaps the strangest and most unlikely, therefore
108
hardest to believe is the statement that on more than
one occasion the common river mussel has closed his
shell upon an intruding fly and been brought to land.
Luckily the hooks are light and the feathers offer
such resistance to the air that they never have
momentum enough to sink the barb in the flesh and so
one rarely heard of anglers being injured with the
whipping bait. One occasion which is recalled was
where a friend finding his hook caught on a reed
in front gave an angry yank, and the line being short,
the spring of the rod was sufficient to set the point
of the hook in his own forehead. In his rattled haste
to release it, he evidently pulled the hook the wrong
way and buried the barb, which had to be cut out.
In ten years fishing this is the only remembered
experience of blood drawn with the fly.
A GOOD STORY.
This is an Angler's predicament said I. Walter
Sharp :
Every "Brother of the Angle" has, during his
career, a few more or less startling experiences of
which the world never hears, and which if written up,
would furnish much interesting reading, not alone
to the fraternity, but to the public at large. Usually
the Angler is the hero of his story, but in the follow-
ing incident he came out a very slow second,
humiliated, bleeding, sore, and beaten.
My old Indian friend and fellow-camper, Machel,
and If were spending one of our annual outings in the
Cascade Mountains of Oregon, on the head/waters of
the wild and turbulent Clackamas River, where thou-
sands of Salmon breed yearly, and where mountain
109
trout of several varieties fairly swarm ; in a region fifty
miles from a wagon road and where I never saw sight
of other white men. In spite of the fact that the river
was full of trout there were times when they would not
rise, so we often wanted trout when we could not
get them. Therefore fishing did not become monot-
onous, as we all know that, the uncertainty is one
of the greatest charms of the sport.
So it was on the occasion of which I am about to
relate. The trout had not been rising through the
day, and I spent several hours endeavoring to get
trout enough for supper and the following breakfast.
It was growing late in the afternoon, and the sun
had disappeared behind a lofty spur of mountains.
The "salmon flies" were beginning to feel the chill
of the evening and were helplessly dipping down on
the rapid surface of the water. This proved too much
for the sly old trout and they began to rise. I had
Creeled a half dozen or so nice ones, and feeling
comfortably about having secured the necessary "pro-
vender" was taking chances on losing a good one
which I had hooked, and who was making a very
determined fight for liberty. The water in which I
was standing was nearly waist deep and swift, while
a few steps below was a very deep pool, and it was
in thpwater that my fish was doing his acrobatic
stunt, some twenty-five yards from where I stood.
So suddenly that I was dazed for a moment, a great
eagle swooped down like a flash and seized my captive
just after he had made one of those beautiful breaks,
so characteristic of his species. Seeming entirely
unmindful of my presence, or the strain on the line,
he settled upon a big rock which reared up out
of the river. My efforts to pull the fish away from
no
him were unavailing against those great talons which
held it. The bird was about to eat his supper at
once, but was suddenly arrested, as, with a terrible
scream, another eagle shot out of the sky and attempted
to take it from him. The two birds immediately
/began to "mix things," and an awful battle was on.
The breeze earned away myriads of downy feathers
as they were torn from their roots; the air was rent
with piercing screams; first one bird was down and
then the other. I could feel the constant tugging at
the line, but could not get it clear. The fight lasted
several minutes, and then one of the huge birds
suddenly left the rock, carrying the trout with it.
The other rose to follow, but during the struggle the
hook had fastened to one of its feet. Here was a
novelty indeed. I would have willingly released him,
but of course was entirely helpless in the matter.
You may know that fishing lines were scarce in that
particular locality, and I realized the danger of losing
my best one. The strain on the line, as well as on my
nerves, was something only to be realized by a like
experience. The eagle's angry cries tore the air
wide open. The rod bent and recovered as from
time to time the pressure varied. The bird struggled
in the air for some time and then settled back on the
rock from which he had not at any time gotten ^away.
I want to say here that a fish don't put up any kind
of a fight at all as compared with a big eagle. This
old fallow then triea to free hinwelf from his
i earnestly nopeu nc uugm. ^. ^ ..
pause at this point and consider the feelings of the
man at the rod end of the line he will realize that the
eagle was not the only fellow who was in a pickle.
I did not want to break the line, nor could I reach
ill
trout of several varieties fairly swarm ; in a region fifty
miles from a wagon road and where I never saw sight
of other white men. In spite of the fact that the river
was full of trout there were times when they would not
rise, so we often wanted trout when we could not
get them. Therefore fishing did not become monot-
onous, as we all know that the uncertainty is one
of the greatest charms of the sport.
So it was on the occasion of which I am about to
relate. The trout had not been rising through the
day, and I spent several hours endeavoring to get
trout enough for supper and the following breakfast.
It was growing late in the afternoon, and the sun
had disappeared behind a lofty spur of mountains.
The "salmon flies" were beginning to feel the chill
of the evening and were helplessly dipping down on
the rapid surface of the water. This proved too much
for the sly old trout and they began to rise. I had
Creeled a half dozen or so nice ones, and feeling
comfortably about having secured the necessary "pro-
vender" was taking chances on losing a good one
which I had hooked, and who was making a very
determined fight for liberty. The water in which I
was standing was nearly waist deep and swift, while
a few steps below was a very deep pool, and it was
in th^pwater that my fish was doing his acrobatic
stunt, some twenty-five yards from where I stood.
So s ' [ ' -~
eagl ,
just after he had made one of those beautiful breaks,
so characteristic of his species. Seeming entirely
unmindful of my presence, or the strain on the line,
he settled upon a big rock which reared up out
of the river. My efforts to pull the fish away from
no
him were unavailing against those great talons which
held it. The bird was about to eat his supper at
once, but was suddenly arrested, as, with a terrible
scream, another eagle shot out of the sky and attempted
to take it from him. The two birds immediately
/began to "mix things," and an awful battle was on.
The breeze caried away myriads of downy feathers
as they were torn from their roots; the air was rent
with piercing screams ; first one bird was down and
then the other. I could feel the constant tugging at
the line, but could not get it clear. The fight lasted
several minutes, and then one of the huge birds
suddenly left the rock, carrying the trout with it.
The other rose to follow, but during the struggle the
hook had fastened to one of its feet. Here was a
novelty indeed. I would have willingly released him,
but of course was entirely helpless in the matter.
You may know that fishing lines were scarce in that
particular locality, and I realized the danger of losing
my best one. The strain on the line, as well as on my
nerves, was something only to be realized by a like
experience. The eagle's angry cries tore the air
wide open. The rod bent and recovered as from
time to time the pressure varied. The bird struggled
in the air for some time and then settled back on the
rock from which he had not at any time gotten ^away.
I want to say here that a fish don't put up any kind
of a fight at all as compared with a big eagle. This
^ was fishing predicament by pecking at the hook, which
I earnestly hoped he might do. If the reader will
pause at this point and consider the feelings of the
man at the rod end of the line he will realize that the
eagle was not the only fellow who was in a pickle.
I did not want to break the line, nor could I reach
ill
ft.
shore without doing 1 so, for the river was wide and the
line not long enough to permit it. As I stood braced
against the current on that treacherous bottom, with
its glass-smoothed- bowlders, considering the situation,
my bird once again rose into the air. It struggled
a few moments, and then seeming to realize that I
was responsible for its plight, with a terrorizing
screech it darted straight at me. I realized it meant
to attack, and tried to dodge the blow, and in doing
so lost my footing and fell, but not in time to escape
the claw which reached for me. It caught my flannel
shirt at the shoulder, curing the flesh badly. I had
lost my hold on the rod, arid the current had carried
us into deep water. I tried to sink, but old eagle
would not have it so, and savagely pecked at my
head, scoring blood at every blow. I succeeded in
getting hold of its neck once, but those awful claws
of its "off" foot embedded themselves into my hand
so that I gladly let go. There was no telling how this
strange battle would have ended had not Machel,
hearing the unusual racket, come to the rescue. He
seized a stick and waded out on the lower riffle, toward
which we were rapidly drifting, and as he approached
the bird saw him and flew off as suddenly as he had
attacked, much to my relief. He settled on a
limb overhanging the water and surveyed the
scene. He then began pecking at his foot,
and then soared away. The line had wrapped a
branch and he had torn the hook free. The rod, reel
and line were recovered intact, except the leader,
which still hangs from the branch. My^reel was
firmly strapped to me, so that I lost neither it nor
the contents. Machel the "Good Samaritan" bathed
my wounds, which soon healed, but he was not over-
112
generous in his banterings, and has many times since
laughingly prodded me in his good-natured way about
having saved me from the eagle."
STIPES' DOG.
There lived in the ancient and historical town of
Harpers Ferry a Mr. Stipes, who caught more fish
and knew more men who could and who could not
fish than any other boatman in the country. Mr.
Stipes related to the writer an incident which he
vouched for as correct, but be that as it may, it is
interesting. He said that he owned a very nice little
water dog, and on one occasion while trying his luck
in the Shenandoah, it occurred to him that a dog
might be made to fish. Fastening a short line, with
sinker and bait, to the dog's tail, he baited the hook,
tossed a stick into the middle of the stream, and the
dog true to his nature, swam out for the floating
stick. It was then a large fish grabbed the bait
which was floating suspended from the dog's appen-
dage, and the animal successfully swam shore and
landed a two pound bass. The dog, he said, was
drowned afterwards while making a similar experi-
ment.
THERE WAS NO HOLE.
My son began to doubt the value of fish stories
as they grew more doubtful, but his confidence was
most forcibly shaken after a friend had related the
incidents attending the catching of a tarpon in
Florida, which he said weighed 256 pounds. "Yes,"
said the relater, "All of my many listeners on the
hotel plaza scouted the truth of my statement on
the day of the catch, and strange to say would have
no faith in me whatever, when I invited them down
to the river to see the large hole that was left in
the water by the monster fish after I had pulled him
out."
IT IS TRUE.
Whenever the waters that contribute the fish life
exist there may also be found colonies of fishermen
who delight in displaying their accomplishments. The
individuals who comprise them take pride in contesting
for honors by displaying their skill with rod and reel
and what they accomplish is always accepted without
much discussion ; the fellow who is defeated finding
satisfaction in knowing that another opportunity will
offer to undo his rival. There is of record, a
feat performed by that earnest disciple Walter S.
Harban of Washington; which will long stand as a
leading accomplishment and it cannot be fully disputed
because the well known guide John Leipold was an
unexpected witness to the remarkable exploit. The
Doctor was casting for small-mouth black bass with
that beauty and touch which characterizes his work,
when he hooked on he supposed a tremendous fish.
Allowing ample play for security and sport, reeling
slowly and playing first to right and then to left, he
finally brought to mouth of the landing net not one,
but two good sized fish, one of which was hooked to
the two naught sproat hook and the other to the
swivel hook from which his leader was suspended.
This was an occasion when the experienced bass artist
doubted at once the wonderful luck that had come
/ to him. It was nevertheless a fact and has afforded
all his fearers to whom he relates the fact of genuine
interest. While doubt is for a moment in evidence
on the part of the listening ones, the dignified force
with which the affair is always related dispels all
doubt as to the genuineness of the catch.
114
Been A Fisherman All My Life Loeb.
THE LITTLE BROWN BULL.
The magnificent dining hall of the Blue Ridge Club,
wherein song and story have entertained some of the
most distinguished Americans, including Joseph
Cannon, of Illinois, Nathan B. Scott of West Virginia,
the members of the celebrated Gridiron Club and
others, has hanging on its walls pictures and speci-
mens from the waters, fields and woods, numbering
among them, a rich and attractive deer hide, in which
is penciled in superb large lettering, the following
lines, as musically and frequently rendered by the
owner, the late Col. Daniel Ransdell:
Oh the little brown bull
Came down from the mountains,
Shang, rango, whango, whey,
And as he was feeling salutations,
Chased old Pratt a mile by gracious,
Licked old shep and two dog Towsers,
Then marched back home with Old
Pratt's Trousers,
Whango, Whey.
117
We Are Wardens at the Club.
LEST WE FORGET.
My son, you have been an attentive listener and
become a skilled practitioner in the art of bass fishing.
You have no doubt observed that it is not necessary
to belong to a fishing club in order to be a successful
fisherman, and, it is true that all members of fishing
clubs do not fish. Some of them do not care, others
are short in patience, many don't know how ; and
fishing clubs possess other winning attractions which
too often spoil the making of a rod and and reel expert.
The sportsman out and out makes a hammock in the
forest or the near-by shore his bed, and the blue
sky his covering. He cooks by the camp fire and
washes his own utensils. Enthusiasts of this school are
not so numerous in these days as formerly, but
Vandergrift, who has duck hunted all the fields of Ohio
and, who visits many game and fish sections with regu-
larity, enjoys high rank in this class. With the gunning
season closed, the St. Lawrence River and Canadian
Lakes open up to him glorious opportunities for fish-
ing, his captures ranging from black bass to musca. Mr.
S. H. Vandergrift, who has his home in Washington,
goes beyond indulgence with gun and rod for pleasure,
adding to it by seriously and energetically doing those
commendable things which make for the protection
of game and fish in season.
There is another prominent man in the world's
affairs, William Loeb, Jr., who was private Secretary
to President Roosevelt and who would not serve in the
same capacity after his chief quit the White House.
"Billy" Loeb as he was called in early New York
state days, used to fish in the big lakes, with over a
hundred feet of line and dragging a pound sinker
around on the bottom. These boyhood experiences
121
he did not forget nor did the habit quit him, for, he
has whipped all the fine streams of Colorado, Wyom-
ing, Montana and Minnesota. Two trout at a time was a
continued occurence, but when he hooked a two pound
lake trout in the side while out on a lake in Minnesota,
which required two hours drudgery on the part ot
himself and boatsman to bring in and discover, he said,
he learned a great deal about the weight of fish fooling
people at times.
Howard Brooks a capital newspaper youth who can
write fish stories better than he can tell them and who
can excel in cooking and eating fish, persists in
using a sixty foot hand line in catching Potomac
perch. He does not believe in new methods nor
artificial bait, but, my son you must not expect every
fisherman to take your advice, because there are many
of them who would rather give it, and, John C.
Walker, said, "yes sir, and they always want to tell
you how to catch the fish when you're got him on the
hook and the advice scares him off, and for that reason,
while I've caught bass, blue fish, cat fish and other
species, I don't take much interest in fishing !"
My friend Albert S. Muhlhausen of the DuPont
Powder Company, in Delaware, is a member of the
George Washington Bass Fishing Club in Wilmington,
and, will not tell his associates any of the hundred of
piscatorial anecdotes he has treasured, because as he
puts it, "I cannot tell a lie," but he did say :
"I have six dogs and six cats,
All I could wish,
And every last one of them,
I've taught how to fish."
122
"You probably won't believe me," began Muhl-
hausen when he was interupted by a sepulchral voice,
"You've SAID something!"
"It's a fact just the same, and if the eight black
bass were alive I could prove it by exhibiting them.
It was this way, I was spending the summer up in New
York State, "
"What place?" came the interruption.
"Never mind the place, it isn't on the map. You
have to go in by stage and I forget the name anyway.
It's a queer Indian name, all full of g's and c's. You
couldn't pronounce it if I spelled it for you. Well,
anyway, I took a small cottage up on the top of a
hill opposite a big estate where an ugly cuss lived
who had a lake on his place, and this lake was full of
black bass, but this chap was so blamed selfish he
wouldn't let anybody fish there but just himself. Queer
how selfish some people are.
"Well, I decided I was going to get some of those
bass. It took me a long time to figure it out, but I
finally did it. This lake was in a little valley just at
the foot of the hill opposite my front porch, may~be
about half a mile away. I went to work and in two
days I had made one of those Blue Hill box kites
such as Arthur Rotch used to fly when he was making
tests of air curents up at Blue Hill Massachusetts.
Rotch is dead now or I'd ask him to tell you the
shape of the kite. Anyway, I built the kite, and
underneath it I rigged a little pulley and ran through
this pulley another string, separate from the one
controlling the kite. On the end of it I fastened a
bass hook with a sinker heavy enough to pull the
string down to the water. Would you believe me, "
123
Norment and a Group of Fisherman.
"We would NOT!" shouted a man in the back of
the room.
"Jealous," said Muhlhausen.
"Would you believe me, I baited that hook with a
minnow,"
"Whereja get the minnow?" came the interruption.
"Out of a pail," said Muhlhausen. Then he con-
tinued, "I sat on the front porch and flew that kite
out over the lake, let go the string and dropped the
minnow right over in the middle of the lake. I bet
you the bass that jumped for the bait went up in the
air nearly twenty feet and grabbed the minnow, hook
and all. I hauled in the kite and that bass with it,
and he weighed six pounds. He was THAT long.
I flew the kite out six times and each time I brought
in a bass. I figured I had about enough for a good
mess, for each fish weighed from four to eight pounds.
1 tried again, and that time I had a bass that must
have weighed between ten and eleven pounds, but
by this time the ugly cuss who owned the lake saw
what I was doing. He came out with a rifle, and
just as I got the bass up over his pasture he shot
and cut the string which carried the bass. It fell on
dry land and he went over and picked it up. He
swung it around and put his thumb up to his nose
and wiggled his fingers at me. It's a pretty blamed
mean man that will steal a chap's fish that way isn't
it?"
"How much did that last bass weigh?" said the
interrupter.
"Somewhere between eighteen and twenty pounds,"
said Muhlhausen.
"How large was the box kite?" some on asked.
"I don't remember," said Muhlhausen.
127
"Well, you've got a polka dot memory all right"
was the rejoinder.
"How's that?" said Muhlhausen.
"Good in spots" was the answer.
John F. Storm of St. Louis is Secretary of the
famous Jim Lewis Fishing and Sporting Club, an
organization of National repute, that holds an annual
meeting at Petoskey, where Judges, Doctors, Lawyers,
Bankers, Senators and Representatives and plain every
day gentlemen gather to fish, dine and sing. The
author in' grateful to the Secretary for attention given
by the Globe-Democrat at his suggestion and as
follows :
Sylvester's New Poem on Jim Lewis Club.
Maj. Richard Sylvester, of Washington, D. C, who
years ago was a St. Louis newspaper man, has burst
into song again. It was Sylvester, by the way, who
composed the famous fish poem, "De Clickin' of the
Reel," and it is fishing that has inspired his muse this
time. The latest product of his divine afflatus is
entitled "Storm at Petoskey," and is dedicated to the
Jim Lewis Fishing and Sporting Club of which Maj.
Sylvester is official punster. Here it is:
Hear that storm you know so well !
It scatters like the shot and shell !
It blows around here every year,
And brings the gathering luck and cheer.
It blows the hookworm on the line,
And makes one's eyeballs brightly shine.
When it comes the reel must run ;
Then the bass has lots of fun.
Look to the left, then to the right,
128
Now it's up, then out of sight.
Dips that net beneath the wave,
That mighty fish you've got to save.
For the Lewis Club has come once more,
Camping on Petoskey's shore.
That's the story you often read,
Now the storm has gone away,
To come again some other day.
Nothing but the truth it tells,
As the membership it swells,
Again the fish are fancy free,
Alone in glory, as they ought to be.
129
Bready of the Dam.
The Blue Ridge Rod and Gun Club.
This organization was incorporated under the laws
of Virginia and its attractiveness is shown in some of
the illustrations, my son, but there are some features
that the camera did not get. Located in a prohibition
state, springs from the high capped Blue Ridge
Mountains, quench the thirsty while the Potomac
washes the mountain base.
The distinguished membership limited to fifty stal-
wart Isaac Waltons or Daniel Boones, is given in these
closing pages and the names of those who are
expert with rod and gun, are marked with an asterisk.
*Mr. Milton E. Ailes
*Dr. George N. Acker
*Mr. Alexander Britton
*Mr. Conrad Becker
*Mr. Evans Browne
*Mr. Charles E. Berry
*Mr. John H. Clapp
*Mr. John M. Culp
*Mr. Joseph Cranford
*Mr. Henry D. Crampton
*Mr. G. Thomas Dunlop
*Mr. J. Maury Dove
*Mr. Daniel Eraser
*Mr. Thomas M. Gale
*Mr. Herbert A. Gill
*Mr. Frank C. Henry
*Mr. James F. Hood
*Mr. Charles E. Hood
*Mr. William F. Ham
*Mr. James H. Hayden
*Mr. Phelan C. Hawn
*Dr. Walter S. Harban
*Mr. Frank J. Hogan
*Mr. Philander Johnson
*Mr. William C. Johnson
*Mr. Rudolph Kauffmann
*Mr. Victor KaupfFmann
*Mr. Charles Linkins
*Dr. T. N. McLaughlin
*Mr. James D. Maher
*Mr. H. C. McKenney
*Mr. E. S. Marlow
*Mr. William H. Moses
*Mr. Harry C. Moses
*Mr. Benjamin S. Minor
*Mr. William A. Mearns
*Mr. Clarence F. Norment
*Mr. Harry Norment
*Mr. Wm. R. Stansbury
*Mr. J. Henry Small
133
*Col. Richard D. Simms *Mr. Irving Williamson
*Mr. Ewd. J. Stellwagen *Mr. Charles P. Williams
*Mr. Charles A. Safer *Mr. Allan E. Walker
*Mr. Theobald J. Talty *Mr. Henry L. West
*Mr. Benjamin Woodruff *Mr. E. J. Walsh
'A DREAMIN'.
I jes' set here a dreamin'
A-dreamin' every day,
Of the sunshine that's a-gleamin'
On the rivers fur away.
An' I kinder fall to wishin'
I was where the waters swish;
Per if the Lord made fishin',
Why a feller ought to fish !
While I'm studyin,' or a-writin,'
In the dusty, rusty town,
I kin feel the fish a-bitin'
See the cork a-goin down!
An' the sunshine seems a-tanglin'
Of the shadows cool an' sweet;
With the honeysuckles danglin,'
An' the lilies at my feet.
So I nod, an' fall to wishin'
I was where the waters swish;
Fer if the Lord made fishin',
Why a feller orter fish !
Frank L. Stanton.
134
A CONTRIBUTION.
In the year of Our Lord Nineteen Hundred, a lover
of Sir Izaak Walton, joined the Blue Ridge Rod and
Gun Club. He had heard so much of one Walter
Harban, of his wonderful bass fishing, and of his
wonderful catches, and how, when he got out of bait,
he would send his dog into the river to catch bass, he
determined to become a regular fisherman and pur-
chased a complete outfit, engaged a boat and boatman,
and started out. Having heard so much about these
wonderful, wily fish; how strong and sporty they
were he thought it advisable to get a rather strong
rod and line. The day was fine, water perfect, bait
good, and he had a competent and experienced boat-
man, by the name of one Riley, "one of the finest
fisherman that ever came down the pike." Mr. Riley
could not tell our subject anything about fishing.
Phelan put on a "mad-torn", and also a rather "hefty"
sinker, (only about four ounces of best lead), and then
began to cast. Things didn't run very smoothly at
first ; line would "back-lash" ; couldn't get bait out far
enough, but by perseverance and after a "good pull"
at some of the finest Braddock Spring Water,
he got up nerve and started again. The rest
of the story as told by Phelan was as follows:
I noticed my friend, Mr. Riley, was getting
nervous and would duck and dodge every time I made
a cast. It looked to me like he would prefer taking a
swim, but nothing daunted me, so I got ready and
gathered all my strength gave one mighty swing (with
both hands) and I want to tell you, that certainly was
some cast, for our friend, Mr. Riley, not being a good
dodger or prize-fighter, missed dodging that "hefty"
Bear, Deer, Turkey and Bass.
four ounce sinker. I soaked Mr. Riley with that sinker
right in the forehead ; between his two "headlights"
and he certainly was some submarine expert (don't
know which nationality) for he came up right under
my boat, amid-ship and I performed a most beautiful
"loop the loop", but the most wonderful and marvelous
thing happened ; when that hefty sinker hit Mr. Riley
it was severed from my line, recochotted and hit a
man on the canal at Sandy Hook (clear across the
river), whom I am told thought a meteor had fallen
from Heaven, but the mad-torn remained upon my
line and landing in a beautiful eddy or pool, my reel
began to sing and with one strong pull, I jerked out
of the river the most beautiful five and one-half pound
"small mouth" black bass you ever saw. / certainly
did jerk that bass. I landed him up in a sycamore
tree, dangling on my line about thirty (30) feet up in
the air, so being a "dead shot" from Tennessee, I took
out my revolver and cut the line first crack. Mr.
Riley seemed to be so highly amused ( I don't know
about what) that he fell over-board again and very
nearly drowned. He said, "You certainly are some
fisherman, but if you don't mind, I'd just as soon as
you'd keep off that there sinker, not that the like's o'
me would presume to give a sportsman like you any
advice about fishing, but these here fish up here in these
here waters don't like no lead." "Guess they have been
shot at so much they aint got over the war yet." So
I put on a fresh mad-torn, left off the sinker, and by
avoiding a back-lash every other cast, I had one of
the best days sport of my life. "On my honor as a
fisherman", I caught that day, sixty-five bass, the
smallest weighing three and one-half pounds. Of
139
course, I don't mean to brag; never bragged in my
life, but they do say all over the world that Colonel
Hawn of Tennessee, is one of the finest.
Here's hoping I'll soon meet you and some of the
boys at our beautiful club ; have an interview with
"Col. Braddock", embellished with some of Old Vir-
ginia's finest grass, and gather around the "Round
Table", where I will tell you of some of my really
wonderful experiences and adventures on my per-
sonally conducted tours on the tributaries of the
Potomac.
Mr. Rudolph Kauffmann being jealous of my repu-
tation as a fisherman and wishing to get in "my class"
was permitted to accompany me on a little fishing trip
on the South Branch. He can tell you all about it.
What I did to the fish and Mr. Kauffmann "was a
plenty." Rudolph says, "He never will forget it;
is was marvelous." Modesty keeps me from writing
more.
140
FISHIN' FEVER.
There is one disease which cannot be cured by
innoculation and that is "Fishing Fever." My
piscatorial friend R. R. M. Carpenter, distinguished
as the Director of the Development Department of
the Du Pont de Hours Powder Company has not
introduced his product to the catching of bass and
trout, but abandons the trade to partake of exceptional
opportunities at week ends, to capture "prize winners."
He is an apt scholar and sings :
"I don't go often, but when I do,
I catch the big ones,
I would go often, if I knew,
I'd always get the big ones."
No one of the Blue Ridge Club people has done
more to advance the interests of that organization that
J. Maury Dove, many years the President. He didn't
do it by fishin', but by keeping house and having
things right when the boys came in from a days
outing on the river.
141
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