The
Celebrated Sporting Works
OF
ROBERT B. ROOSEVELT.
I.
The Game Fish of the North.
II.
Superior Fishing.
III.
The Game Birds of the North.
⁂ _All published uniform with this volume,
handsomely bound in cloth, price $2.00.
Sent free by mail on receipt
of price, $2.00_,
BY
Carleton, Publisher,
New York.
SUPERIOR FISHING;
OR,
THE STRIPED BASS, TROUT, AND BLACK BASS
Of the Northern States.
EMBRACING FULL DIRECTIONS FOR DRESSING ARTIFICIAL FLIES
WITH THE FEATHERS OF AMERICAN BIRDS; AN
ACCOUNT OF A SPORTING VISIT TO LAKE
SUPERIOR, ETC., ETC., ETC.
BY ROBERT B. ROOSEVELT,
AUTHOR OF “THE GAME FISH OF NORTH AMERICA,” “THE GAME BIRDS OF
OUR NORTHERN COASTS,” ETC.
[Illustration: colophon]
NEW YORK:
CARLETON, PUBLISHER, 413 BROADWAY.
M DCCC LXV.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by
GEO. W. CARLETON,
In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States for the
Southern District of New York.
R. CRAIGHEAD, PRINTER,
_Caxton Building, Centre St., N. Y._
INDEX.
Achigon, 71.
Agates, 108.
Agawa, 91.
ascent of, 104.
canoes for, 99.
Indians at, 92.
mouth of, 59.
American Anglers’ Book, 269.
Anthony, John, 151.
Apostle Islands, 122.
Artificial baits, 272.
flies. See Flies.
bait-fishing, 246.
fly-fishing, 246.
minnow, 273.
Bacon, fried, 295.
Bass. See Striped Bass.
Batchawang Bay, 65.
falls, 82.
fishing, 79, 82.
river, 77, 110.
Bayfield, 122.
Beans, 296.
Beaver, teeth of, 115.
Bergall, 160.
Birch canoe, 126.
Black bass, 10.
where found, 11.
in Lake Superior, 71, 75.
Blue fish, 160, 274.
Brulé river, 122.
Buzz, 212.
Cakes, griddle, 299.
Camlet, 200.
Casting fly, 263.
contest, 266.
distance, 265.
rules of New York Club, 271.
for striped bass, 139, 140, 142.
Casting menhaden, 139, 144, 145, 147.
line, 261.
shrimp for striped bass, 143.
Catch, 204.
Chippewa, 78.
house, 36.
Chowder, clam, 289.
Scott’s, 300.
Webster’s, 298.
Chum, 153.
Clams, baked, 289.
broiled or fried, 290.
chowder. 289.
stewed, 290.
Cleveland, 23.
Close time of fish, 187.
Cock á doosh, 48.
Cookery for sportsmen, 279.
in the woods, 285.
materials for, 286.
Copper mines, 109.
Corn starch, 114.
bread, 299.
Cot, 155.
Cypress, J., Jr., 18.
Deacons’ quarrel, 171.
Dead river, 122.
Detour, 33.
Detroit, 28.
Dining by Americans, 29.
Duck, roast, 296.
Dyes, 240.
yellow, 240.
orange, 240.
scarlet, 240.
crimson, 241.
brown, 241.
blue, 241.
purple, 242.
violet, 242.
claret, 242.
black, 242.
lavender, 243.
blue dun, 243.
green, 243.
gray drake, 243.
gut, 244, 245.
Eggs, fried, poached, or scrambled, 290.
_Esox boreus_, 77.
Feathers, preserving, 213.
for fly-making, 201.
Fish, protection of, 183.
close time, 187.
baked, 293.
boiled, 291.
broiled, 292.
chowder, 289.
fried, 292.
potted, 297.
stewed, 293.
diminution of, 184, 185.
importance as food, 184.
spawning season, 187, 189.
Fisheries, value, 190.
Fishing grounds, 15, 16.
Flies of Lake Superior, natural, 117.
salmon, 202,
salmon from Scrope, 215.
trout, 210, 211.
Flies, 215.
alder fly, 231.
August dun, 235.
black gnat, 228.
black palmer, 238.
blue bottle, 237.
blue dun, 220.
brown palmer, 238.
cinnamon dun, 236.
fly, 236.
cow dung, 222.
dark mackerel, 232.
downhead fly, 228.
fern fly, 230.
grannom or green tail, 225.
gold-eyed gauze wing, 233.
gravel bed or spider, 225.
great red spinner, 223.
great dark drone, 221.
green drake, 231.
hazel fly, 232.
iron blue dun, 226.
Jenny spinner, 227.
Kinmont Willie, 215.
Lady of Mertoun, 215.
little dark spinner, 229.
yellow May dun, 228.
March brown, 223.
meg with the muckle mouth, 216.
meg in her braws, 216.
Michael Scott, 216.
oak fly, 228.
orange fly, 235.
peacock fly, 222.
projecting bodies, 217.
red ant, 234.
red palmer, 237.
red spinner, 220.
Ronald’s flies, 219.
sailor and soldier, 230.
sand fly, 224.
silver horns, 234.
stone fly, 224.
toppy, 215.
turkey brown, 229.
water cricket, 221.
wren tail, 233.
yellow dun, 226.
sally, 230.
Floss silk, 199.
Fly-book, 262.
casting. See Casting Fly.
making, 196.
bodies, 199.
buzz flies, 212.
catch, 204.
double hackles, 210.
gut loop, 202.
hackles, 200, 209.
hooks, selection, 197.
Hyde’s directions, 218.
materials, 198, 199, 200, 201.
materials preserving, 213.
midge flies, 213.
palmers, 213.
projecting bodies, 217.
salmon, 202.
stop, 204.
tag, 203.
tip, 203.
trout, 210, 211.
tying silk, 199, 212.
wax, 214, 198, 199, 213.
wings, 201, 205, 209.
mixed, 208.
Garden river, 121.
General remarks, 9.
Goulais bay, 61.
Grand island, 122.
Gravy, 296.
Gros Cap, 53, 55, 61, 116.
Griddle cakes, 299.
Guides, Alexis Biron, 40.
Joseph Le Sayre, 40.
Gut, 198.
loop, 202.
Harmony river, 67, 112.
falls, 68.
upper falls, 75.
Herring lake, 47.
Hooks, selection of, 197.
Hudson’s Bay Company, 60.
Ice drift, 55.
_Isle aux Arabes_, 65.
Judith Point. See Point Judith.
Kinnikinnick, 58.
_Labrax Lineatus_, 138.
Lake Huron, 32.
George, 33.
trout, 136, 275.
spawning season, 137.
Lake Superior, Chap. I., 22.
II., 38.
III., 60.
IV., 77.
V., 102.
flies for, artificial, 40, 128.
flies of, natural, 117.
north shore, 122.
resumé, 120.
return from, 118.
route to, 121.
tackle for, 128.
trout of, 124.
map, 130.
_L’anse aux Crêpes_, 88.
Leader, 261.
Lines, how prepared, 139.
for striped bass, 147.
Lines, 260.
Liver, how cooked, 299.
Lobsters, 293.
Mackinaw salmon. See Namaycush.
Maine, 14.
Mamainse, 88, 110.
Maple Island, 65.
Marquette, 121.
Meats, baked, boiled, broiled, and stewed, 295.
tough, 297.
Menhaden bait, how prepared, 153.
Midge flies, 213.
Milk, 286.
Mines, 117.
Mohair, 199.
Mount Kineo, 101.
Namaegoose, 122.
Namaycush, 62.
baits, 134.
characteristics, 135.
color, 132.
localities, 134.
seasons, 133.
spawning, 135.
Nepecgon, 124, 91.
Oysters, broiled, fried, or roasted, 288.
scolloped, 289.
stewed, 287.
Omelet, 291.
Palmers, 213.
Pancake Bay, 88.
Partridges, 111.
Pedro Don, 22.
baggage, 83.
conversation in Chippewa, 94.
disquisition on liquors, 24.
canoeing, 102.
china, 84.
Chippewa house, 36.
refusal to get up, 112.
sugar, 80.
table cloths, 86.
Pickerel of Lake Superior, 77.
Pictured rocks, 122.
Pike perch, 10.
where found, 10.
cut, 76.
Poaching, 192.
punishment for, 193.
Point Judith, 150.
blue-fish at, 160.
porgee at, 160.
snipe at, 159.
striped bass at, 151.
_Pointe aux Pins_, 53.
_Chènes_, 53.
_Mines_, 109.
Potatoes, 294.
Port Huron, 29.
Pork, fried, 295.
Protection of fish, 183.
Potomac, 139, 245.
Punch, arrack, 302.
champagne, 302.
Frank Forester’s, 303.
fish house, 301.
nondescript, 302.
pineapple, 301.
Porto-Rico, 302.
regal, 302.
Reels, 255.
for bass, 146.
welding, 257.
Reel-bands, 255.
Rice, 296.
Rock-fish, 138.
Roast birds, 296.
Rods, 246.
for salmon, 246.
for trout, 249.
rings for, 255.
Rod ferrules, 253.
how separated, 254.
_Salmo amethystus._ See Namaycush.
_confinis_, 135.
_siscowet_, 137.
Salmon, boiled, 297.
fishing with trout rod, 251.
flies from Scrope, 215.
fly-making, 202.
kippered, 298.
trout. See Namaycush, 136.
Sault Ste. Marie, 16.
fishing at, 42.
little rapids, 50.
rapids, 42.
trout pond at, 45.
Silk for tying flies, 199, 212.
Siskawitz, 63, 138.
Slick, 153.
Smoked beef, 291.
Snapping mackerel, 274.
Soups, 295.
South Bay, 161.
Spinning tackle, 275.
Sportsmanship, 19, 20.
Squid, 274.
Stateroom, 24.
Ste. Marie river, 33.
Stop, 204.
Striking trout, 265.
Striped bass, 138, 274.
baits, 149.
casting menhaden, 139, 144, 147.
eel skin, 153.
fishing adventure, 157.
fly-fishing, 139, 140, 142.
hooks for, 154.
implements for catching, 146, 155.
localities, 148.
seasons, 151, 152.
tackle for, 142.
Superior fishing, 21.
Superior, Lake. See Lake Superior.
Tag, 203.
Thumb-stall, 155.
Tinsel, 199.
Tip, 203.
Trout, 13.
cooked on first principles, 298.
Lake Superior, 14.
Maine, 14.
preserving, 90.
Lake. See Lake Trout.
flies, 210.
_Truite du Lac._ See Namaycush.
Tying silk, 199, 212.
Trolling spoons, 275.
Buel’s, 276.
Vails, 149.
Vegetables, 297.
Veil, 21.
Venison stew, 303.
Wax, 198, 199, 213.
soft, 214.
Wajack, 97.
Webster’s chowder, 298.
White-fish, 12.
how captured, 46.
Point, 121.
Wings, 201, 205, 209.
mixed, 208.
Worsted, 199.
SUPERIOR FISHING.
GENERAL REMARKS.
Although the shores of our northern coasts, both along the Pacific and
Atlantic Oceans, abound in numberless varieties of the finny tribe, and
myriads of striped bass, cod, mackerel, tautog, herring, shad and
blue-fish in the Northern States, and salmon, sea-trout, and capelin in
the British Provinces, visit us in their season; the inland States, with
the reservation of certain restricted localities, produce few varieties,
and with a single exception, inferior kinds of fish. Throughout that
vast region west of Pennsylvania, bordering on the great lakes, and
stretching westward to the Rocky Mountains and northward to the Canadian
boundary, as well as the centre of British America not communicating
immediately with the sea or the immense bays of the Arctic Territory,
there can be found but one, or at the most two kinds of fish that are
worthy of the attention of the epicure or the sportsman. It is true that
savage pickerel, immense mascallonge, and gigantic cat-fish lie in wait
amid long weeds, and embedded in deep mud, a terror to their smaller
brethren and a prize to the unrefined fisherman who looks to the profit
to be derived from their heavy carcases; and that other coarse and
ill-shapen creatures are taken in the net; but the only fishes that the
true angler can regard as objects of sport are the pike-perch, and the
black bass.
The pike-perch, which is variously termed the pickerel, pike of the
lakes, glass-eye, big-eyed pike, and pickering, is taken in immense
numbers in Lakes Erie and Huron, was formerly numerous in the Ohio, and
inhabits to a greater or less degree the ponds or sluggish waters of
that section. It is a savage fish, biting voraciously at bait or
trolling-tackle, and where better fish are scarce, is regarded as a
piscatory delicacy; but its play is weak and dull, and as it is taken
with strong tackle, its capture requires neither the skill nor
experience that lend the principal charm to angling; and by comparison
with sea-fish, its flavor is coarse.
Captured mainly with the all-devouring net, it is salted and packed for
winter use as our cod or mackerel are preserved, and constitutes at
Sandusky and some other places an important object of commerce.
The black bass, a fish that, from its abundance in their country,
Americans may claim as peculiarly their own; a fish that is inferior
only to the salmon and trout, if even to the latter; that requires the
best of tackle and skill in its inveiglement, and exhibits courage and
game qualities of the highest order--fairly swarms in the upper central
portion of North America.
In all the lakes, large and small, that dimple the rugged surface of
Canada; in the sheets of pure water embosomed in the gentle swells of
the western prairies; in those inland seas that are enveloped by our
extensive territory; and in the numerous rivers of the west--the black
bass is found by his ardent admirers.
From the confines of Labrador, throughout the Canadas, in British
America, the Western States, and far beyond the Mississippi, there is
scarcely a stretch of water, whether it be the rapids of the St.
Lawrence, the sluggish bays of Lakes Ontario and Erie, the cold depths
of Huron and Superior, or the lakelets of the interior, that does not
abound with this splendid fish.
In dull weedy bays he becomes lazy, ugly, and ill-flavored; but in cold
or rapid water, or upon stony bottom, he acquires a vigor of body and
excellence of flavor that place him in the first rank of piscatorial
prizes.
Although not abundant, if even indigenous in the Middle States, he has
been extensively introduced; and finding many of the clear, transparent,
rocky, eastern ponds admirably adapted to his health and propagation, he
is populating waters that have heretofore produced little besides perch
and sun-fish. By a fortunate provision of nature, most ponds that are
not suited to trout are favorable to black bass; and being a hardy fish,
able to endure long journeys, he is readily transported from place to
place. The time will soon come when the worthless yellow perch will be
supplanted by his noble congener.
He has been imported even into that semi-detached point of New England,
Cape Cod, and thrives wonderfully in Lake Mahopac, adding much to the
attractions of that favorite watering-place of fashion-jaded New
Yorkers, and is being generally distributed among his eastern friends.
If not exposed to a hot sun, he may be carried a long distance out of
water, and will often revive when apparently the last spark of vitality
is extinct. But his natural home is north and west of the Middle and
Eastern States; there his name is legion, his fame deservedly great, and
he may be almost said to be the one game fish.
It is true that among epicures the famous white fish of Lakes Huron and
Superior, which is also found in a more flabby condition in Erie and
Ontario, ranks before either the black bass or the pike-perch; but as he
is deceived by neither decoy nor bait, he is not worthy of the
fisherman’s regard. To be tasted in perfection, the white fish must be
eaten fresh from the rapids of Lake Superior, where, lying in the eddy
below some immovable rock, he is taken by the sharp-eyed Indian in the
long-handled net from out the foaming water, brought immediately to
land, cooked and placed steaming hot upon the table before he has lost
the delicious freshness of his native element.
The black bass, however, is in the west what the trout is in our
eastern brooks--the principal source of the angler’s enjoyment.
The rivers that empty into Hudson’s Bay are ascended by the migratory
salmon, but from their peculiar character do not furnish fly-fishing
except for trout. The latter are found in Lake Superior and the streams
that empty into it, in the tributaries of the Upper Mississippi, and in
the brooks of the Alleghany and Rocky Mountains; but are not generally
distributed through the weedy streams of the Western States.
The flat expanse of Ohio is not favorable to the existence of that lover
of the noisy brook and tumbling torrent; and streams flowing through
marl deposits are supposed not to furnish proper food; so that the
beauty that we in our eastern homes entice from every stream or brooklet
from Maine to Pennsylvania, is found rarely, if at all, in Illinois,
Indiana, Ohio, western Kentucky, and southern Wisconsin; but in the cool
depths of Lake Superior and its amber-hued tributaries he absolutely
swarms.
In the Upper Mississippi there are black bass and mascallonge; in the
brooks that, rising amid the hills of that region, swell its current,
there are trout; in neighboring lakes black bass and perch abound; among
the Rocky Mountains are found several species of trout; and in the
waters of Oregon and California salmon are plentiful.
Although the largest trout in the United States are taken in Maine, in
the Umbagog region, the greatest number and the most vigorous are found
in Lake Superior, where fish of two pounds weight can be captured to
the heart’s content. The fish of Maine are of rich and strong color,
while those of Lake Superior have the bright sides and delicate tints of
the sea-trout. All brook trout, however--the genuine _salmo
fontinalis_--have the peculiar bright vermilion specks that distinguish
them from kindred species, and these are distinctly visible upon the
silver sides of the fish of Lake Superior.
The innumerable rivers of the State of Maine are interwoven together in
such a manner that the fisherman, urging his silent canoe with dripping
paddle or stout pole, gliding beneath the arching boughs that shade in
gloom the narrow stream, or pushing boldly into the open lakes, can pass
from one region of waters to another, and, making short portages,
explore in a continuous trip rivers that run north, east, and west. To
the true sportsman, armed with pliant rod and feathered hook for the
seduction of the merry trout, and trusty rifle loaded with heavy ball
for the destruction of the lordly moose, nothing surpasses the intense
enjoyment of wandering amid the forest wilds from river to river,
threading the uninhabited groves, or following the unknown and unnamed
stream, and leaving to whim or chance, or the influence of luck, to
determine his final destination. Alone with his single guide he is
content; accompanied by a friend, still better pleased; in a party of
associates perfectly happy; blessed by the society of ladies--real
ladies and true wood nymphs--he is in Elysium.
Or, he may coast the shores of our western lakes, where the bright sun
sparkles on the rippling surface, and only seek the shade upon the land
to avoid its heat; there he may kill the black bass, the mascallonge,
and in Lake Superior the trout; fleeing from the approaching storm to
some sheltered nook, he partakes the inland ocean’s varying moods,
passing the days upon its surface and the nights amid the neighboring
forests; stopping occasionally to use the light shot-gun and kill a few
woodcock or partridges, and now and then slaying a duck upon the route.
In the wide world there is no other country so propitious to the
fisherman as the northern part of North America; it furnishes every
variety of sport, from the delicate refined fishing of the transparent
ponds and over-fished trout-preserves of Long Island, to the coarser and
easier sport of killing with large flies and heavy rods the countless
hosts of Maine, the Labrador coast, or Lake Superior; from the casting
the menhaden bait into the boisterous ocean for striped bass, to the
trolling amid the Thousand Isles of the St. Lawrence for the ugly and
powerful mascallonge; from the capture of the noble salmon to that of
the spirited black bass. In fact, there is so much and so good fishing
everywhere, that it is difficult to give a preference or lay out any
specific directions. You may go by railroad to Cape Vincent, and thence
by steamboat to Clayton or Alexandria bay, and fish the St. Lawrence; or
take the ocean steamer from Boston to Eastport, and thence to Calais,
and explore the St. Croix River for land-locked salmon; or continue on
to St. John, and by railroad and stage or steamer to the Nipisiquit, and
kill the true salmon--_salmo salar_--king of fish; or you may take the
railroad from Boston to Bethel and cross by stage into the Umbagog
region of Maine, and visit its innumerable lakes with unpronounceable
names, or may embark on the steamboat at Cleveland, and wake up, after
two days’ tranquil voyage, at the Sault Ste. Marie, the outlet of Lake
Superior; or you may stop anywhere on any of these routes, even out in
the ocean, on the way to New Brunswick, if you please, where there are
pollock or haddock, and have good fishing. There is excellent fishing
close to New York city, and better still the farther you recede from it.
It is true the fisherman will not find those refined comforts that the
more cultivated and densely peopled districts of Europe afford; but he
will receive a hearty welcome and wholesome entertainment at the country
tavern or the farmer’s house. If, however, he have youth and tolerable
hardihood, he should look for no such reception; but, carrying his
canvas-home, enjoy the luxury of unrestrained independence, kill and
cook his own dinner, and sleep in the pure air of the wilderness. He
will have to surrender a few necessaries that habit has made so, but he
will be repaid a thousandfold by increased happiness and improved
health; he will not have servants to wait on him, nor desserts or wines
to pamper him; but he will have his guide to instruct, and abundant
food to support him. He will acquire an insight into the mystery of
woodcraft, and learn a few of its wonders and delights; he will come to
rely upon his own stout muscles and sharp eyes, and return to the city a
renovated being. Or, if he have sufficient enthusiasm and high courage,
he may cast aside all trammels, and taking his rifle or rod, salt pork,
and hard bread, strike off into the trackless forest with no covering to
shield him from the rain or sun, no floating thing of beauty to bear him
in its bosom over the water, no store of provisions to fall back upon if
fish do not rise and the bullet flies astray; but bearing bravely up
against heat and weariness, sleeping, amid the rain and storm, wrapped
in the heavy coat, catching or killing game sufficient for daily food,
or going hungry till better luck shall interpose. This, indeed, is
manhood; and our country, with its vast solitudes, its unbroken forests,
its network of water-courses, its endless chains of lakes, its vast
mountains and limitless prairies, offers inducements for such a life
that no other land possesses.
As pretty full instructions have been given in the _Game Fish of North
America_ to aid the learner in commencing his experiences of camp life,
the reader who desires such information is referred to that work; but
whether he shall go into the solitary wilderness, away from man and
human habitation, or can only tear himself from business for a few hours
for a flying visit to some quiet preserve near the bustling city, he
should never forget that he is a sportsman, and owes the duties of
moderation, humanity, patience, and kindness under all circumstances;
that he cannot slaughter or poach; and that, from his profession, he
should ever be a gentleman. He should never forget the words of that
most amiable of our fraternity--the splendid shot, the skilful angler,
the genial companion, and the graceful writer, now long since gathered
to his final resting-place--who was known to the public under the name
of J. Cypress, Jr.:
“No genuine piscator ever tabernacled at Fireplace or Stump-pond who
could not exhibit proofs of great natural delicacy and strength of
apprehension--I mean of things in general, including fish. But the _vis
vivida animi_, the _os magna sonans_, the _manus mentis_, the divine
rapture of the seduction of a trout, how few have known the apotheosis!
The creative power of genius can make a feather-fly live, and move, and
have being; and a wisely stricken fish gives up the ghost in transports.
That puts me in mind of a story of Ned Locus. Ned swears that he once
threw a fly so far and delicately and suspendedly, that just as it was
dropping upon the water, after lying a moment in the scarcely moving air
as though it knew no law of gravity, it actually took life and wings,
and would have flown away but that an old four-pounder, seeing it start,
sprang and jumped at it full a foot out of his element, and changed the
course of the insect’s travel from the upper air to the bottom of his
throat. That is one of Ned’s, and I do not guarantee it, but such a
thing might be. Insects are called into being in a variety of mysterious
ways, as all the world knows; for instance, the animalcula that appear
in the neighborhood of departed horses; and, as Ned says, if death can
create life, what is the reason a smart man can’t? Good fishermen are
generally great lawyers; _ecce signa_, Patrick Henry and Daniel Webster.
I have known this rule, however, to have exceptions. But the true
sportsman is always at least a man of genius and an honest man. I have
either read or heard some one say, and I am sure it is the fact, that
there never was an instance of a sincere lover of a dog, gun, and rod
being sent to bridewell or penitentiary.... If I were governor and knew
a case, I would exert the pardoning power without making any inquiry. I
should determine without waiting to hear a single fact that the man was
convicted by means of perjury. There is a plain reason for all this. A
genuine sportsman must possess a combination of virtues which will fill
him so full that no room can be left for sin to squeeze in. He must be
an early riser--to be which is the beginning of all virtue--ambitious,
temperate, prudent, patient of toil, fatigue, and disappointment;
courageous, watchful, intent upon his business; always ready, confident,
cool; kind to his dog, civil to the girls, and courteous to his brother
sportsmen.”
To constitute a sportsman, therefore, it is not sufficient merely to be
able to catch fish; although a very important element in the angler’s
composition, it is not all that is required, nor will it alone entitle
him to full fellowship with the fraternity. He must have higher
aspirations and nobler gifts; he must look beyond the mere result to the
mode of effecting it, regarding, perhaps, the means more than the end.
Any unfair trick or mean advantage he must never take, even to fill a
vacant creel or empty pocket; he must never slay the crouching bevy,
huddled in terror before his pointer’s nose; he must never resort to the
grapple or the noose, no matter how provokingly the wary trout, lying
motionless in the clear water, may disdain his choicest flies; and, when
the nature of the fish pursued induces it to accept the imitation, he
can use the natural bait, only in extreme cases and at great risk to his
reputation. The noblest of fish, the mighty salmon, refuses bait
utterly, and only with the most artistic tackle and the greatest skill
can he be taken; the trout, which ranks second to the salmon, demands an
almost equal perfection of both, and in his true season, the genial days
of spring and summer, scorns every allurement but the tempting fly. The
black bass prefers the fly, but will take the trolling-spoon, and even
bait, at all seasons; whereas the fish of lesser station give a
preference to bait, or accept it alone. This order of precedence
sufficiently proves what every thorough sportsman will endorse--that
bait-fishing, although an art of intricacy and difficulty, is altogether
inferior to the science of fly-fishing; and that the man who merely
follows it without higher aspiration, and uses a worm equally for the
beautiful trout and the hideous cat-fish, cannot claim to be a
sportsman. Occasionally there is a person who will use the bait with
wonderful ability, and entice the reluctant fish against their will to
an unwished-for meal; but he never experiences the higher pleasures of
his pursuit--his enjoyment in making a neat and killing fly, his
satisfaction at its success, his delight in putting it properly upon the
water, and his gratification when with it and his frail tackle he shall
have overcome the fierce and stubborn prey. Therefore to his many other
qualities, the true sportsman must add a thorough knowledge of
fly-fishing, and only can the use of artificial fish or fly, or casting
the menhaden bait for bass, be termed SUPERIOR FISHING.
[Illustration: THE FIRST VEIL.]
CHAPTER I.
LAKE SUPERIOR.
Don Pedro is descended from one of what we in our young country call the
old and highly-respectable families, and having been nurtured amid the
refinements and luxuries of life, is one of the most gentlemanly men
imaginable. At the public rooms of a hotel, in the halls, on the piazza,
in the saloon of a steamboat, he can never pass a lady, though she be a
perfect stranger, without in the most deferential manner removing his
hat. To this reverence for the fair sex he adds an easy elegance towards
his own, that at once commands attention and respect.
Never having taken an active share in the world’s affairs, his
abilities, which are far above the average, have lain dormant or run to
criticising art or committing poetry; and he is rather apt to discuss
very small matters with a minuteness and persistency that important ones
scarcely merit.
He had travelled Europe, of course, had shot quail and taken trout in
Long Island, fired at crocodiles on the Nile and jackals in the desert;
and although probably the greatest exposure of his life had been damp
sheets at a country inn, and his severest hardship the finding his
claret sour or being compelled twice in one day to eat of the same kind
of game, he was now seized with a sporting mania, and determined to
rough it in the woods. An unsafe companion, perhaps, the reader may
think; but it is not always the roughest men who have the most pluck,
nor those accustomed to the commonest fare who grumble the least when
offered still coarser, and there is truth in the words of worthy Tom
Draw: “Give me a raal gentleman, one as sleeps soft and eats high, and
drinks highest kind, to stand roughing it.”
So we discussed matters over a comfortable dinner, with the aid of a
couple of bottles of claret, one of champagne, and a little brandy; and
Don concluded he would as lief eat salt pork as woodcock, and ship
biscuit as French rolls. He was anxious to examine my list of camp
articles, and was quite ready to do away with a large part of them; but
finally determined to leave that matter to me, holding me strictly
responsible for carrying any unnecessary effeminate luxuries. The
discussion was not a short one, but this happy decision being arrived
at, I was perfectly satisfied.
We met by appointment a few days later at the Angier House, in that
thriving, active town of Cleveland, which seems to be drawing to itself
the business of the other cities of Lake Erie, and, cannibal-like, to be
growing fat on their exhausted lives. It is a thoroughly American city,
and, like all our cities, doubtless has the handsomest street in the
world, for so we were assured by the citizens.
A large part of the trade of Cleveland is with the mines of Lake
Superior, and steamers leave almost daily for that region, carrying a
miscellaneous assortment of the necessaries of life, and returning laden
with copper and iron ore. Not content, however, with this unexciting
freight, these vessels propose to carry excursion parties round the
lakes, and are all, if their advertisements are to be believed, supplied
with brass bands, and every luxury of the season.
In Cleveland we intended to purchase such ardent spirits as we might
require, and Don commenced:
“Now as to this question of liquor, I should like to have your views
concerning kind and quantity?”
“Well, I expect we will be in the woods twenty days, and have made my
computations on that basis; so we will need a case of liquor, and as you
prefer brandy, brandy let it be.”
“No, no; by no means,” responded Don; “do not let my predilections
influence you; besides, a dozen bottles seems a good deal. If we were
gone twenty-four days it would be just a pint a day, or a half-pint
apiece--rather severe, considering we expect to rough it.”
“You know we have to give the men some occasionally, and then we will
meet other parties and have mutual good-luck to drink. It will not be an
over-supply, though we can make it less if you say so; I myself drink
little when in the woods.”
“I believe that,” replied Don, ironically; “and considering how well I
know you, it was hardly worth while to mention it. But this is a serious
question, for we can get nothing drinkable after leaving Cleveland; and
if we have to do what you say, do you not think we shall run short? I
want plenty of everything, and it would be better to take a dozen and a
half, if there is a doubt.”
“There is no doubt; but if----”
“If you say there is no doubt, that is sufficient; but I am surprised
you should give the men expensive brandy, when they would probably
prefer a coarser article.”
“Of course, we will take a common whiskey for the men; but occasionally
while using the flask ourselves we will naturally pass it to them.”
“Ah, yes; I understand. But, really, I am not satisfied it should be all
brandy; you must not expect to have the same comforts you would in the
city, and if you will take my advice, you will have at least part
whiskey.”
“But you prefer brandy, and one is as easy to carry as the other.”
“Really, now, you must not consult my wishes; in fact, although I admit
a slight preference for brandy, many persons prefer whiskey. Before you
decide, it would be well to examine the matter thoroughly; and as we are
now at the store, you must make up your mind promptly.”
This conversation had taken place as we were walking from the hotel to
an establishment that had been recommended to us.
“Remember,” continued Don, “you must act for the joint interest, and
there are several points well worth considering. In the first place,
whiskey is much cheaper; then it is probably purer than the brandy you
buy here; if a bottle should be broken the loss is less----”
“Certainly; if you would be equally content, I should arrange it
differently.”
“How often must I tell you not to consider me, and I am decidedly
pleased at your change of views. Now, putting aside any supposed
preference on my part, what proportions would you suggest?”
“Nine of whiskey to three of brandy.”
“Ah,” gasped Don, losing his breath at the suddenness of this response,
“have you given the matter sufficient consideration? You have not even
ascertained the price;” and then turning to the clerk, he asked: “How do
you sell your best whiskey?”
“Eight dollars a dozen, and brandy two dollars a bottle.”
“Nine bottles of whiskey would be six dollars,” I calculated aloud, “and
six for the brandy, make twelve. Have them packed and delivered on board
the _City of Cleveland_ promptly at half-past seven, because she leaves
at eight.”
“But are you satisfied?” cried Don in an agony of horror at such a want
of discussion; “have you examined all the bearings of the change? Can
it be packed in time? You know whiskey does not go as far as brandy.
Are you sure you have enough? Is there no question about that being the
best proportion? Would you not prefer all whiskey? In case of sickness,
may we not need more brandy? What is the best mode of packing it? Is it
sure to be at the boat punctually?”
“That is the clerk’s affair; if it is there it will be paid for, and if
not it won’t. Let’s look at the town; come,” and I dragged him off just
in time to avoid a dozen new propositions, and as many unanswerable
questions, leaving the clerk, bottle in hand, looking the image of
despair at the avalanche of inquiries that had burst upon him.
After strolling about for several hours we reached the boat, and found
the case of liquor waiting for us, and proceeded to select our
stateroom. This matter rose at once to a serious question in Don’s eyes.
I resolved to leave it entirely to him, confident that his elegant
manner would impress the steward. He at once devoted his entire
attention to it, flitting from place to place in the forward and after
cabins with the steward at his side, pointing out defects here,
suggesting changes there, popping in and out of doors, describing his
foreign experiences and the prime necessity of comfortable quarters,
turning down the sheets, peering into cracks, feeling the pillows,
casting a suspicious eye upon blankets, dissatisfied with all, and
finally resolved to take one which could not be examined at the time for
want of the key, but which the steward, who had been a respectful and
sympathetic listener, assured him had none of the defects he had pointed
out.
The immaculate stateroom was engaged, the boat pushed off, the key was
obtained, and lo and behold! if it had none of these specified defects,
it had another--one of the wooden supports, a huge beam eighteen inches
broad, passed directly up through the foot of both the berths, reducing
them to four feet six inches in length. When Don made this discovery his
face was a study for his friends the artists; anger could not do justice
to the occasion; despair, bewilderment, horror, astonishment, seemed
blended, with a lurking suspicion that the sympathetic steward had been
making game of him. He rushed to the office, could find nothing of the
steward, but was informed that all the other staterooms were engaged.
However, after supper, the officials relented and gave us another room,
enjoying mightily their joke, as I always believed it to be, although
Don never could be brought to admit that they could by any possibility
have dared to make fun of him, and insisted it was a blunder of that
“stupid steward.”
We reached Detroit by five o’clock of the following morning, and as the
boat for some wise reason remained there till two in the afternoon, we
strolled round the city. It is a promising place, and has the finest
street in the world, so the citizens assured us, called Jefferson
Avenue. The market was well supplied with fish, and among them sturgeon,
cut into slabs of yellow, flabby flesh; pale Mackinaw salmon, and
darker ones from Lake Superior; white fish, the best of which were sold
for six cents a pound; lake mullet, black and white bass, yellow and
white perch, sun-fish, northern pickerel, suckers, pike-perch, cat-fish,
and lake shad or lake sheepshead, called in French _Bossu_, or
humpback--a very appropriate appellation. These fish had been for the
most part taken in nets; but black bass are captured abundantly with the
rod in the small lakes near Detroit, and in Canada opposite. The
principal articles sold in the market, however, were strawberries and
hoop-skirts; the latter being so numerous that Don remarked incidentally
that the inhabitants absolutely skirt the market. This he evidently
intended as a joke.
A few miles beyond Detroit is situated its pretentious rival, Port
Huron, which is also a flourishing town, and has the handsomest street
in the world; and opposite Port Huron are Sarnia and Point Edwards, the
termini of the Grand Trunk and the Great Western railroads of Canada. We
touched at Point Edwards at about eleven o’clock in the evening.
America is a great place; the people are upright, virtuous, honest,
enterprising, energetic, brave, intelligent, charitable and public
spirited; they are the finest race of men and the most beautiful and
cultivated women in the world, but they do not know how to dine. To
gobble down one’s victuals, regardless of digestion or decency, is not
eating like Christians but feeding like animals; to thrust one’s fork
or spoon into the dish appropriated to holding food for all, is
uncleanly and offensive; to eat peas with a knife is bad enough, but to
use it immediately afterwards to cut butter from the butter-plate is
absolutely disgusting. No one who does these things is either a lady or
a gentleman; and no one who cannot keep his arms at his side while
cutting his meat is fit to eat at a public table.
There was one gentleman, as he would claim to be considered, who sat
near us, who, although he had a proper silver fork, endeavored
religiously to eat his peas on a knife that happened to have a small
point. This operation, always difficult and dangerous, became, from the
formation of the blade, almost impossible; the peas rolled off at every
attempt, and the unfortunate rarely succeeded in carrying to his mouth
more than one at a time, till finally reduced to despair, he seized a
table-spoon, and with it devoured them in great mouthfuls.
The dinner was quite a lively scene; the ladies, although there was
plenty of room, were smuggled in clandestinely before the gong was
sounded, and the men, dreading the horrors of a second table, rushed for
the remaining chairs, standing behind and guarding them religiously, but
politely waiting till the ladies were seated. There was plenty of food,
but each man immediately collected such delicacies as were near him, and
he imagined he might need, and transferred them to his plate or a small
saucer. There was abundance of time, no one having the slightest
prospect of occupation after dinner, and yet every man, woman, and child
set to work eating as though they expected at any moment to be dragged
away and condemned to weeks of starvation.
The waiters, like all Americanized Irishmen, were independent if not
insolent, and we overheard the following discourse between one of them
and an unhappy wretch who had come in late and could obtain no
attendance. The suffering individual began rapping on his plate with the
knife till he attracted the notice of a passing waiter:
_Waiter._--“Well, what are you making that noise for?”
_Starving Individual._--“I should like to have something to eat.”
_Waiter._--“Isn’t there plenty to eat all round you?”
_Individual._--“But I want some meat.”
_Waiter._--“Why don’t you ask for it, then? What do you want?”
_Individual._--“What kinds are there?”
_Waiter._--“Why there’s beefsteak, to be sure.”
_Individual._--“I would like to have some beefsteak.”
_Waiter._--“Why didn’t you say so, then, at first? Give me your plate if
you expect me to get it for you.”
It was their habit to empty the water left in the glasses back into the
pitchers, and when I asked one for a glass of water, he drank out of it
himself first, and then handed it to me. On another occasion he helped
Don by giving him the tumbler a stranger had just used.
These little peculiarities all round encouraged sociability; you could
hardly refuse to know a man when you had drunk out of the same glass and
eaten from the same dish with him, and a lady naturally felt at home
with a gentleman whose ribs she had been punching for half an hour. The
progress of the meal, however, was somewhat checkered, not a few of the
guests clamoring for their dessert ere the others had finished their
soup. The only explanation of this haste was from the graceful
stewardess, who was the redeeming feature of the boat, and who said the
waiters were in a hurry so as to have it over as soon as possible. It
might aptly be said of the Americans: “They eat to live.”
Beyond Lake St. Clair the land on both sides of the river is low, and,
especially on the Canadian side, adorned with cultivated farms and
dotted with picturesque country houses. A half mile barely separates the
two nations; and, in case of war, with our present improved artillery,
the intervening river would hardly form an obstacle to mutual
destruction, till the once smiling fields and happy homes would be one
vast scene of desolation.
Emerging into Lake Huron we began to perceive the effects of the cool
water and consequent condensation of the warmer atmosphere; a heavy fog
lay upon the surface, at first not higher than our upper deck, but
creeping up as the night advanced. On one side a beautiful fog-bow with
faint and delicate colors, spanned the sky, while on the other a
brilliant ring of sparkling silver surrounded the moon. The water that
was an opaque, milky white at Cleveland, had been growing darker,
greener, and clearer, attaining perfect purity ere we reached Lake
Superior, and exposing to view objects many feet below its surface.
Having reached Detour, which is a growing place and will soon have the
finest street in the world, at eight o’clock at night, and the channel
through Lake George being intricate, the captain announced we could
proceed no further that evening, and the passengers generally went
ashore to explore the country. The land is low around Detour, though
there are clusters of pretty islands, and here for the first did we see
the rocky northern formation and the evergreen trees.
Lake George, which is at the head of Lake Huron, or more properly a part
of it, is shallow and muddy. A channel, narrow and of but twelve feet in
depth, has been dredged and marked out with stakes; it is crooked, and
will scarcely admit of two vessels passing abreast. The shoal mud-flats
were visible in every direction, and our wheels stirred up the bottom as
we passed.
It was with a feeling of relief that we escaped from this lake into the
deeper and rapid waters of the river Ste. Marie, whose eddying current
and bold shores were a pleasant sight, to our eyes wearied with the
sameness of lake travel. We had been three nights and almost three days
caged in our floating home, and were delighted at the near approach to
our destination. We had not heard the band mentioned in the
advertisements, but supplied its place with a crazy piano strummed by
amateur performers; we had not partaken of all the luxuries of the
season, but had appreciated with sharpened appetites the substantials
that were furnished; we had not enjoyed the company of fair
excursionists from Cleveland or Detroit, but had formed the acquaintance
of one or two kind beings in crinoline; we had not had an exciting trip,
but had been transported safely and slowly, and at eight o’clock that
morning we reached the Sault Ste. Marie.
A weary waste of waters lay behind; our track lengthening into the dim
distance, stretched out to many thousand miles; we had crossed deep
streams, had burrowed through high mountains, had darted along broad
meadows, had swept across majestic lakes, had ascended mighty rivers;
less than a hundred years ago many months would have been expended in
completing this same journey; serious difficulties would have had to be
overcome and dangers encountered; we had condensed a year of our
grandfathers’ lives into three days; we had spanned one-half our great
continent, fled from the metropolis of civilization to the native haunts
of the savage; in fact, gone back from the nineteenth into the
eighteenth century. We had been carried by steam upon the track of iron
or in the moving palace; in future we were to embark in the voyageur’s
bateau, and be propelled by oars or sail. Heretofore the unnatural wants
of civilized life had been indulged and gratified; hereafter, the
commonest home, the simplest covering, the plainest food, was to be our
lot; hitherto we had been in the land where gold was the talisman that
commanded ten thousand slaves; henceforth we were to trust ourselves to
kindly nature and our own capabilities. Glorious were our anticipations
from the change. Our vessel, the unromantic _City of Cleveland_, which,
from the beginning, had been lumbering along at the moderate rate of ten
miles an hour without ever being betrayed into the slightest evidence of
enthusiasm, seemed overjoyed at her approaching arrival, and dressed
herself in her gala costume of variegated bunting. She whistled merrily
to announce to the inhabitants that once more she was to bless their
sight, and tried to get up a little extra steam for a final burst. The
travellers crowded her decks, the natives collected along shore; the
former waved their handkerchiefs, the latter, probably having no
handkerchiefs, swung their hats; and amid all this excitement we came
merrily up to the dock.
The Sault, or Soo, as the name of the village is always pronounced, is
not a large place, but proved to be larger than I expected; our dull
plodding eastern people can hardly imagine how rapidly the west is
growing in wealth and population; already our little western brother is
claiming to be a man, and if we are not careful will be too much for us
some day. This newly planted village, almost at the extreme northwest of
American civilization, included an excellent hotel, a dozen stores, and
at least a hundred houses and workshops. Already the belles of
Illinois, Wisconsin, Iowa, and Minnesota were congregating at it to
enjoy its cool temperature and invigorating atmosphere, and ere many
years are passed it will be a fashionable watering-place, thronged with
the _élite_ of western society. Its principal hotel, the Chippewa House,
is admirably kept, and doubtless is the pioneer of an infinitely more
gorgeous affair.
Don, however, who is rather particular and not much accustomed to the
free and easy mode of country life, was somewhat disappointed with our
room. It had the great desideratum of plenty of fresh air, for it was of
the whole width of the house and had windows back and front, but Don was
surprised that people who kept hotels did not acquaint themselves with
the other important requisites.
“There, for instance, you observe the water pitcher has a cracked
handle. Some time you will undertake to lift it and it will give way,
and then there is no telling what it may ruin; the trunk, even, may
receive the entire contents.”
“But, Don, that is an old crack; it has evidently stood several years,
and will doubtless last the few days we are here.”
“Not so certain; and just observe that disgusting nick in the
wash-basin, it will always look dirty even if it is not.”
“Don, you are wrong there; that is a good sign, it proves the basin may
nick but won’t break.”
“Then there is no slop-basin; now what do you suppose we are to do
without a slop-basin?”
“Why, throw the slops out of the window, to be sure.”
“You would hardly call that decent in New York; and not only may they
fall on some passer-by, but the window is too small to permit it
conveniently. Just look at this pillow; it is long, to be sure, but not
stuffed with half feathers enough; what am I to do with such an apology
for a pillow as this?”
“Why, double it up, of course.”
“I see,” he concluded, in a resigned tone, “you are making a joke of
these matters, so we will not pursue the subject; but now that we are on
shore fresh from our voyage, I wish to ask seriously your deliberate
opinion whether you would advise any one to take the trip just for the
pleasure of the journey itself?”
[Illustration]