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.

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.

[A], [B], [C], [D], [E], [F], [G], [H], [I], [J], [K], [L], [M], [N], [O], [P], [R], [S], [T], [V], [W].

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.

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?”

CHAPTER II.

In the northern part of Minnesota is the greatest elevation of what geologists denominate the eastern water-shed of our continent; lying almost exactly in the centre of North America, here the streams that flow to the north, east, and south, find their source. Lake Superior, that adjoins this section on the east, is the chief of those magnificent lakes that empty from one another into the St. Lawrence, and finally wash the coast of Labrador. The Mississippi, taking its rise in the same region and but a few miles away, flows southward with ever increasing volume to the Gulf of Mexico, and then sweeping around Florida and through the Atlantic, rejoins the waters of Lake Superior off Newfoundland; while the Red River of the North, pursuing a contrary course, empties into Hudson’s Bay and thence into the Northern Ocean. These waters, starting from little rills and springs scarcely more than a few steps apart, after wandering thousands of miles asunder come together and commingle in the Northern Atlantic Ocean.

Here were the famous Indian portages. One from Lake Superior through Pigeon River, Sturgeon Lake, and Rainy River into the Lake of the Woods, has served to locate the boundary between two great nations, and is the native highway between Hudson’s River and Hudson’s Bay. Another through Brulé River leads into the head waters of the Mississippi, and thence, by ascending the Missouri, to the rivers that empty into the Pacific Ocean. These portages were traversed year after year by the aboriginal inhabitants, who have left their tracks in the well-worn paths that are still followed by the voyageurs, and are suggestive of easy grades to those who wish to bind our country together by paddle-wheel and railroad track.

Lake Superior, with a surface six hundred feet above, and a bottom three hundred feet below the level of the sea, stretches out in vastness and splendor five hundred miles long by nearly two hundred broad, and holds in its bosom islands that would make respectable kingdoms in the old world. On the southern shore its sandstone rocks are worn by the waves and storms into fantastic shapes, imitative of ancient castles or modern vessels, or are hollowed out into deep caverns; on the north the bolder shore rises into rugged mountains whose face has been seamed by the moving ice-drift of former ages. In the country bordering upon the south are located inexhaustible mines of copper and iron of immense value; and along the northern coast are found agates and precious stones.

A hundred streams pour their contents into the great lake which, from its enormous size and depth, retaining the temperature of winter through the summer months, empties its clear, cold, transparent waters into the river Ste. Marie. Not producing a large variety of fish, those that dwell in its bosom are the finest of their species. The speckled trout, the Mackinaw salmon, and the black bass are large and vigorous; sturgeons are plentiful, although valueless except as an article of food; and the white fish are the daintiest fresh-water fish in the world.

The forests are mainly composed of the sombre evergreen trees, relieved frequently by the beautiful white birch, and along the low lands by a considerable number of other varieties; the shore on the north is a bold bluff five hundred feet high, but where it descends to the water it forms occasionally tracts of fertile interval; on the south the coast is more level and apparently more sterile. Both shores are as yet totally uncultivated, and from the severity of the winters will probably long so remain.

Immediately upon our arrival at the Sault we made our preparations for a campaign against the fish, and engaged as guides Joseph Le Sayre, a Melicete chief, and Alexis Biron, a Canadian half-breed. Old Joe, as we called him, though he did not seem over forty, was a fine looking Indian with an erect graceful shape, and pleasant open countenance; Alexis, though apparently a good man, was not so prepossessing.

We embarked in a large, stout canoe, and paddling across the broken water at the foot of the fall, commenced fishing the streams into which the river is divided by numerous islands near the opposite shore. A small, brown caddis fly, or, scientifically speaking, phryganea, covered the water in myriads, was wafted along in clouds by the wind, and settled upon the trees and rocks everywhere. Knowing that they changed from a species of worm on rising to the surface, we selected clear, calm spots and endeavored to examine the process. It was too rapid for human eyesight; a spot of transparent water would be bare one instant, and the next there would be upon its surface two or three little creatures dancing about and trying their wings preparatory to a bolder flight. We never managed to see the larva, but invariably beheld the perfect fly appear instantaneously.

Their number was incalculable; living ones filled the air, were blown along like moving sand, were carried into our faces so that we could scarcely face the wind, and settled upon our boat; dead ones covered the water in all directions, were devoured by the fish, especially the lake herring, and were collected by the current in masses resembling sea-weed. They were nearly the color of common brown paper throughout, legs, wings, and body being of much the same hue. They arrive every year at the same time and in about the same numbers. They last a week or so, and although we found them the entire length of our subsequent trip, their favorite locality seemed to be the Sault. They are used as bait for the lake herring, which I believe is identical with the cisco, an excellent fish closely resembling, and in my opinion equal, if not superior to the white fish.

The trout usually begin taking the artificial fly in the early part of July, but although we had been warned that they were not as yet rising this year, we had no anticipation of the wretched luck that awaited us. Notwithstanding the water seemed promising, and deep, dark holes, beautiful eddies, and lively pools indicated success; and notwithstanding continual changes of our flies, we only killed three small fish. Perhaps the numerous natural insects, or the larvæ from which they were metamorphosed, proved a sufficient and preferable food; we could not induce the trout to rise, and did not even see them breaking.

Exploring all the little streams of the Canadian side, hoping at every cast to improve our luck, we worked our way slowly and arduously, for the water was unusually low, against the current, and steadily ascending with the strenuous efforts of our canoe men, who used stout poles for the purpose, we at last emerged above the islands and at the head of the rapids.

Here the water of the lake, confined to the narrow channel, chafed uneasily in tiny wavelets, as though conscious of the approaching struggle. Above, the river stretched away to the westward, evidently from a considerable elevation but comparatively smooth; nearer, it was rushing like a mill-race; below it was broken into white waves, huge cascades, and seething rapids. How wonderful is the change in the appearance of water lying calmly in the lake, hurrying rapidly but silently down a smooth slope, lashed into billows by the wind, toiling among rocks or leaping over falls—but above all is it peculiar and terrible in passing through broken descents! See it glide so deceitfully smooth, but with such resistless power toward the rapids; notice its tiny innocent ripples and childlike murmurs at your feet; see the pretty rolling undulations. Trust yourself to its seductions. Now it has you in its fearful current, now it drags you along, it clasps you struggling and shrieking in its fierce embrace; it throws its white arms around you, lashes itself into a fury, whirls you about in its powerful eddies, sinks you down in its mighty whirlpools, dashes you against the rocks, drags you along the jagged bottom, tosses you over the cascades, and finally flings you torn, bleeding, disfigured, and lifeless to the bottom of the tranquil pool at its base.

In the sunlight it resembles liquid crystal; flowing along placidly, transparent as the diamond, it sweeps upon the rocky shoals and flies up in a shower of purest pearls, alternately revealing or hiding some monstrous gem to which it lends its reflective brilliancy; over the limestone it is opal, over yellow rocks it becomes onyx, over the red, ruby or garnet, over the green, emerald.

Bending and waving in ever varying beauty of form, but carrying in its bosom or reflecting from its foam the sunlight fire, a thousand times intensified, of precious stones.

As the day was well advanced, we determined to trust ourselves to the unreliable element and run the rapids, which is one of the favorite amusements of the adventurous. This can be made as dangerous as desirable, according to the selection of route, either near shore, where there is only the chance of an upset and a few bruises, or through the centre, where it is certain death. We chose a middle course, but as near the centre as our guides, who were not venturesome, would go. Crossing over above the broken water to the American shore, the large, high-sided, but fragile canoe was headed down stream, giving us a view of the prospect before us.

Great ridges of white foam stretched at intervals almost from shore to shore, while the darker water was broken into heavy waves, curling up stream and ready to pour into the boat as it should rush downwards through them. At first the canoe settled gently, making us plainly feel that we were going down hill; then it gathered way as the current increased, and went plunging on its course. The waves flew from our bow or leaped over in upon us, the rocks glided by racing up stream, whirlpools twisted us from side to side; we sprang over tiny cascades or darted down slopes deep and dark, or shallow and feathery white with foam; we rushed upon rocks where inevitable destruction seemed awaiting us, and the shore, trees, and houses went tearing by; past the little island at the head of the rapids, past the main fall, through foam and spray, we dashed headlong, till the few minutes required for the entire descent being exhausted, we glided calmly and quietly into the water below.

Looking back it seemed as though we gazed upon a hill covered with water instead of up a river, and nothing but practical experience would convince a tyro that it could be navigated in safety with a birch canoe. Exhilarated with the pleasurable sensations we had enjoyed, and satisfied that the trout were not in a rising mood that day at least, we returned to the hotel.

The few fish we had killed were transferred by our host to the cook, and reäppeared on table in fine style. After discussing an excellent dinner and comparing notes with the other fishermen present, we accepted the invitation of the canal superintendent to examine the locks and visit his pond of tame trout. We found the canal an admirable structure, expensively built, and of a size to accommodate the largest steamers that navigate Lake Superior; not, however, being skilful in works of that character, we felt more interest in the trout pond.

The latter was quite small, fed by a pipe from the canal that cast up a jet in the centre, and was filled with over a hundred of fine, large, active trout, weighing from one to four pounds. They were wonderfully gentle, would feed from the hand, allow any one to scratch their sides and lift them from the water, and if one end of the food was held fast, they would tug like good fellows at the other. When we held a piece of bait between the first finger and thumb, and at the same time presented the little finger, they would frequently seize the latter by mistake; and although on that occasion they let go instantly without doing the least harm, the proprietor said when hungry they occasionally left the marks of their teeth. It was extremely interesting to watch their movements, as their appetites were never allowed to become ravenous and produce quarrelling among themselves. They were magnificent fellows, swimming about majestically, and coming to the surface in a fearless way to return the gaze of the spectators.

The trout were mostly taken in nets from the canal when the water was drawn off. They had been known to spawn, trying to ascend the jet for that purpose, and depositing their eggs where the water fell; but the spawn either was eaten by their comrades or failed to hatch. Under no circumstances, however, would the young have lived among such rapacious giants.

Having amused ourselves sufficiently with the tame trout, we turned our attention once more to their wilder brethren; but as no better success attended us than in the morning, we returned early to superintend the capture of the white-fish. Every morning and evening the Indians and half-breeds are seen by pairs in their canoes, one wielding a large net with a long wooden handle, and the other plying the paddle. Ascending cautiously to the eddy below some prominent rock, the net-man in the bow peers into the troubled water, and having caught sight of the white-fish lying securely in his haven of rest, casts the net over him. The moment the net touches the water the other ceases paddling, and allows the canoe to settle back with the current; the fish thus entangled in the meshes is lifted out and thrown into the boat. The net is about four feet across, the rim is of wood, and the handle is bent at the end so as to afford a secure hold. Nothing but the practised eye of the native can distinguish, amid the foam and spray and broken water, the dim and varying outline of the fish. Many are frequently taken at one cast, and they are sold, large and small, for five cents apiece.

Although undoubtedly delicious eating, fresh from the cold water of Lake Superior, white-fish are not superior in flavor to their smaller brethren, the lake herring. The latter, so closely resembling the former as to be only distinguishable by the sharper projection of the lower jaw, are taken with the natural brown fly that has been already described. Differing little, if at all, from the cisco of Lake Ontario, they rise with a bolder leap at the natural fly, and their break is as vigorous and determined as that of the trout. They do not seem, except on rare occasions, to take the artificial fly, but with bait not only furnish pleasant sport for ladies, but an admirable dish for the table.

The lake herring is found in many of the extensive waters of the West, but being smaller than the white-fish, is overshadowed by the reputation of the latter. It is a pretty fish, bites freely and plays well, but having to contend in delicacy against the white-fish, and in vigor against the trout, it does not receive the attention it deserves. Early in July they collect at the Sault in millions, filling every eddy of the rapids and crowding the canal, and devour the dead and living phryganidæ. Later they retire to deep water.

It being now apparent that the trout did not intend to accept our delusions as veritable insects, and as fish of three and four pounds had been taken with minnow, much to our envy, Don determined to try the bait. There are several species of minnow captured from among the rocks of the Sault in shrimp-nets, but the favorite is a peculiarly shaped fish bearing the euphonious title of cock-à-doosh. What the name signifies, either in French or Chippewa, we could not ascertain; but the broad, round head and slim tail remind one of a pollywog, which of all created things it most resembles. The cock-à-doosh is a muscular little fellow, and not appearing to mind a hook thrust through him, furnishes a lively, attractive bait.

At the suggestion of some gentlemen who were old habitués, and who recommended to us a couple of men that had accompanied them on former trips up the lake, we had determined to discard our present boatmen, although without cause of complaint, and engage Frank and Charley Biron to accompany us into the woods. We had laid in our supplies of food, all of which, except the tent, the liquor, solidified milk, and a few especial luxuries were purchased in the village stores, had made our preparation for departure in the morning, and devoted the afternoon to fishing the little rapids.

Our present men had already ascertained our intended change, and we had hardly pushed off before old Joe began upon us. He spoke French, the language of communication between the natives and travellers, and never shall I forget his reproachful tone and manner. Perfectly respectful, he pictured our enormities and unkindness in such eloquent words that we hung our heads in shame.

Never before had he, the chief of the Melicetes, acquainted as he was with the whole length of the lake, been displaced for younger men. The young men were good voyageurs—that he did not dispute; but was it reasonable to prefer them to one who had lived his whole life in the woods, or was it right to brand with disgrace a guide who for two days had served us, as we admitted, faithfully? Unusual, indeed, was it to change the men, and should he have this discredit cast upon him? He had not been engaged positively to accompany us; but had we not spoken to him and asked his advice? Was he not justified in expecting it? He was sorry and hurt that we should have done so; he had been pleased with us; he knew that he could have pleased us; but could he rest under such an imputation? Were younger men better boatmen than he? Were they better acquainted with the lake? Were we dissatisfied with him so far? Why, then, had we changed, unless indeed to offend him? His feelings were wounded, and he felt sure that we must regret our injustice. If we said that we had been advised to do so, it must have been by persons who did not know him or had some unworthy object; and should we have done so great a wrong without more inquiry? “No, messieurs; this is the first time I have been turned away for younger men.”

It is impossible to give his language, for Joe, although usually taciturn, burst forth with an overwhelming flow of eloquence, showed us our conduct in such a light that we would gladly have retracted, and compelled us to take refuge behind our ignorance of the customs of the place. Disclaiming the intention to cast a slur upon him, we expressed the fullest confidence in his abilities, and said that were it not too late we should cancel our other engagement. Somewhat mollified, the pleasant expression returned to the old brave’s countenance ere we reached the little rapids, where the excitement of fishing diverted our attention.

Don here met with his first success with the cock-à-doosh, striking and killing, after a protracted struggle of twenty minutes, a fine trout of three pounds. The rapidity of the current, which flowed deep and strong without an eddy, gave the fish a great advantage, and tried the rod to the utmost. The hook, from its size taking a better hold than the diminutive fly-hooks, remained firm and enabled Don at last to bring his prey to the net—and kill our first large fish in the waters of Lake Superior.

Having fished faithfully, but in vain, for a mate, although we saw in a deep pool quite a number as large or larger, and as my fly would still only attract the small ones, we headed once more up-stream. The two miles’ return was slower than our descent, and gave us time to admire the scenery, to watch the vessels passing through the narrow channel of the shallow river, and note the decaying woodwork of the old fort that once did good service against the Indian, but would be a ludicrous structure in modern warfare. On arriving at the Sault the finishing touches were given to our preparations for camping out, and a wagon engaged to transport our stores by land to the head of the canal, where our new men and their barge were to meet us early on the morrow. We parted with Joe, who, however, that evening and next morning heaped coals of fire on our heads by doing us innumerable little favors in the way of suggestions, advice, and physical aid.

The day following, as the last article was placed upon the cart, we were informed that neither eggs nor bread was to be had in the village. Our horror, or rather mine—for Don little knew what a dearth of eggs implied—can only be appreciated by an experienced cook; bread was a minor matter, as we had ship-biscuit, but eggs were indispensable. It appeared on inquiry that the baker had been heating his own coppers, as the fast men express it, instead of his oven, and was now sleeping off the effects of his debauch; and hens, feeling their importance in that desolate country, only lay on special occasions.

While we were in a condition bordering upon despair, uncertain whether to proceed, the steamer Illinois hove in sight. Never was an arrival more opportune, for one of the numerous ventures of the bar-keepers on these vessels is to supply the country with eggs, and recollections of the baskets full that we had seen hanging from the cross-beams of the City of Cleveland came vividly to our minds. Leaving Don to purchase the eggs, I pushed on with the baggage. The former boarded the steamer as soon as she touched the dock, and, rushing to the bar-keeper, demanded eight dozen eggs. He was informed, however, that they were sold by the basket, which contained fifteen dozen, and he could have no less. Then it was that Don rose to the importance of the occasion. Others might have doubted, hesitated, or failed to make the purchase at all; but he, without a pause, grasped the basket, laid down the money, and started for the head of the canal. Fifteen dozen eggs were a perfect mine of comfort; in their golden bosoms lay undeveloped numberless egg-noggs, delicious cakes, and appetizing omelets, and Don’s character was established for ever.

The wind, strong and contrary, was dashing foam-crested waves against the piers of the canal, threatening to make our journey a slow one; our goods and chattels were safely and carefully stowed, filling the barge as nearly as was desirable; we had even cast off and commenced our voyage, when through the canal we saw approaching a tug-boat. She was called the Bacchus, and, like her jolly prototype, willingly lent us her aid; and giving us a tow, made our old boat, for that occasion at least, a fast one. She tore her way along, crushing the waves with her high bow, throwing a mass of white water from her propeller, and carrying us in fine style past Pointe aux Pins, nearly ten miles of our route.

Having left her, as our course now lay more to the northward, we managed with hard rowing, very different from our previous gallant progress, to reach Pointe aux Chênes or Oak Point, in time for dinner. Looming up at the distance of about six miles, rose abruptly to the height of five hundred feet the bold promontory of Gros Cap, its round head enveloped in driving fog. A scanty verdure of pines and firs covering its sides, it stood out a bold landmark, being the first high land of the northern shore.

About half-way between Pointe aux Chênes and Gros Cap lies a low and narrow island, covered with small trees and underbrush, furnishing an admirable camping-ground; and the wind increasing as the fog descended, crawling slowly down the mountain sides, we could advance no further.

All day long canoes filled with Indians, taking advantage of the to them favorable wind, passed us on their way to a grand council at Mitane. It was wonderful where they could all come from; the men seemed to carry their wives, papooses, and household gods, and were accompanied by numberless dogs that ran along the shore; one party consisted of a squaw seated at the bow to paddle, another in the stern to steer, and a brave amidships fast asleep; the canoe was propelled by a blanket, used as a sail. The Indians exhibit great skill in sailing so unsteady a boat as a canoe; although to ordinary mortals it is difficult to stand up in one, they manage to sail them in heavy winds and over a rough sea. This art appears to be peculiar to them, for I have never known it attempted by the Canadian voyageurs, nor even by the half-breeds.

The fogs rising from the cold waters of Lake Superior are frequent and dense; on this occasion the moisture settled upon the bushes, fell from the leaves in large drops, and dampened the boughs of which our bed was to be composed. For this latter purpose, as there was no sapin on the island, we were compelled to use oak sprouts, a substitute that Don at first, attracted by its beauty and apparent comfort, approved, but which, when before morning the leaves were pressed flat and the stems made unpleasantly prominent, he anathematized vigorously.

After supper we wandered along the shore, picking up the queerly shaped and oddly colored stones that abound on the Canadian side of the lake. No agates nor amethysts, and none of the really beautiful pebbles, are to be obtained south of Michipicotten, but everywhere are curious specimens to be found. Carried, as it is supposed, by the ice-drift of former ages from their natural beds, crushed by the moving mass, and rounded by the beating waves, the hardest only survive, while the strangest and most incongruous varieties are collected together. Meeting with novel specimens at every step, we were continually rejecting what we had just selected, till we hardly knew which were really the most remarkable.

Next morning broke with the weather the same, but towards mid-day the wind fell. Don had been gratified with his meals thus far, but on being offered rice for breakfast, said that it reminded him of his European experience, where rice was not considered fit to eat without being filled with raisins and having goose-gravy for sauce. In fact, he did not think he could eat it without these accompaniments. Before the trip was over, however, he found that in spite of European authority and the absence of goose-gravy, rice was quite palatable.

By hard work we reached the camping-ground at Gros Cap, a small island almost adjoining the main land, which is too rocky and precipitous to locate a tent, and having arranged our camp amid the driving fog, essayed the fishing off the point. Fortune did not smile upon us; and having killed one fish for supper, we were glad to escape from the cold, damp air, and return to the warmth of the fire.

The appearance of the rocks in this region is remarkable. Not only are they veined with metal and quartz, running in long seams, but they are cut up by deep furrows, at the bottom of which are strewn broken and pounded stones. The origin of the furrows, or scratches as the geologists term them, has been differently explained; some writers attributing them to the action of water, and others, with probably the correct theory, alleging they were made by the ice-drift of former ages. The ice-drift was the accumulation of snow and ice in the neighborhood of the north pole, its increasing masses forcing their way towards warmer latitudes, and carrying with them immense rocks and boulders. The drift formerly extended far beyond its present limits, pouring into the deep water of Lake Superior, and must have crushed and riven whatever lay in its course—cutting deep furrows whenever the boulders it was carrying came in contact with the unyielding native rock. The character of the rifts, which do not resemble the effects of water, their uniformity of direction, and the pounded character of the stones, confirm this view.

Whatever may have been their origin, they are troublesome to cross, forming as they do abrupt gullies running from high up the hills into the deep water, and occurring at every few hundred feet. But where they pass below the surface, they and the natural caverns worn by the waves form admirable retreats for the timid trout. For the whole length of the shore, the broken rocks lie piled up in the water, and at some places extend far out; as they furnish the best locality for sport, although generally the angler has but a short distance to cast, occasionally a long stretch has to be made. The wind is frequently adverse or across his line, and as he must reach a particular spot in spite of all obstacles, his capabilities are often put to the severest test.

To encounter and overcome difficulty is the true sportsman’s delight, almost as much so as to see the silver-sided beauties of the lake rise suddenly from their fairy caverns and seize his fly, to feel them struggling and fighting for their liberty, jumping again and again, and finally to watch their fading brilliancy enveloped in the fatal net. The trout of this region resemble the sea-trout of the Gulf of St. Lawrence in their habits and appearance. They have the same pearly whiteness on their sides and bellies, heightened by the minute specks of carmine; the same vigor and dauntless courage, the same savage voracity, and the same way of springing out of water when they are on the line. They rise unexpectedly with a rapidity resembling fury, grasp their object with determination, and on being struck, fight bravely. Their flesh, also, is equally red and firm, their fins of a pure color but not quite so delicate, and their shape identically similar. Of course they could never have ascended from the sea, but are indebted for these peculiarities to the pureness of the water of the lake, as the sea-trout are to that of the gulf. And whereas the sea-trout lose their brilliancy on ascending the rivers, so do these of the lake—a fact which we afterwards ascertained—becoming even darker colored than their brethren of the lower regions, and obtaining the reputation among the ignorant natives, from their changed appearance, of being poisonous.

Another party of fishermen had located on Gros Cap island, our tents being pitched within a few yards of each other, and we passed a pleasant evening in their society; our pipes—for I had after much difficulty persuaded Don that cigars were made for the club-house, not the wilderness—suggested inquiries about the native weed called Kinnikinnick, which the Indians in their grand peace councils used before the advent of the white man, and which in a perverted form had lent its name to the tobacco we were using. It appeared that the identical weed was growing close around us, and although the Indians of their party laughed with contempt at any one using it when pure tobacco was to be had, we induced them to collect and prepare a small quantity.

The preparation consists of drying it thoroughly by the fire until it is brown, and then pulverizing it by friction in a cloth. The operation was soon completed, but, although we tried it mixed and unadulterated both, we were forced to admit it had absolutely no flavor whatever. Perhaps it wanted more time or care in the curing, as the men complained of the dampness.

Our new-made acquaintances left next morning early, and Don and myself took a late breakfast and were joined by an unexpected visitor. A quantity of cold potatoes and ship-biscuit, intended for our men’s breakfast, had been temporarily placed on a neighboring log, and while we were partaking of warmer edibles, a few steps off a pretty little ground squirrel ran out, chirruped a merry good-morning, and proceeded as a matter of right to help himself to the cold victuals. He was sleek, bright-colored, and fat, evidently accustomed to many such repasts; and after trying a piece of potato and finding it was good, he took up a whole one in his mouth and ran off with it. It was larger than his head, and looked droll enough in his mouth, stretched to the utmost; he had not gone far before his sharp teeth cut through, and taking out a piece, let the rest fall. Not taking the trouble to pick it up, he returned with another little cry to the dish, and this time chancing on a smaller one, carried it off in safety.

Having stowed that away, he returned, and being satiated with potatoes, tasted the biscuit, which had been soaked in grease and was tender. The piece he selected had a larger piece hanging to it, and to see him pull the latter off with his fore-paws was highly amusing. The biscuit, on trial, proving acceptable, with a little flirt and another cry, he seized quite a large piece, and with a glance at us as much as to say, “I am only taking a fair rent for the use of my land,” he ran off with it in the same lively, confident way. It was a beautiful sight, and we stopped our meal to watch his pranks.

CHAPTER III.

Gros Cap is the first of the rocky hills that form the northern boundary of Lake Superior, and which, with the higher chain of mountains further inland, divide the streams that run to the southward from those that empty into Hudson’s Bay. The Hudson’s Bay Company, that wonderful commercial undertaking that had stretched its arms across our continent, and which, after the destruction of the beaver, has lost its influence and been shorn of its power, has stations along the coast of Lake Superior at the mouths of the various rivers of importance. At the Sault on the Michipicotten, the Pic, and the Neepigon, they have planted their trading posts, and although their glory has departed, they are still kept up and do some business. These stations were convenient stopping-places for the voyageurs, and were located at the mouths of rivers, of which the fountain-heads communicated by a portage with a different system of waters. For instance, the Michipicotten is the Indian highway to Hudson’s Bay, and both on it and on the rivers adjoining that empty into the latter, has the great Company its stations. The study of the results that that purely commercial undertaking has achieved, from the Saguenay River throughout the British Provinces to the far West, is an instructive evidence of the power of man unrestricted and untrammelled. In various ways it has left its mark for ages.

Gros Cap is a perpendicular bluff, shooting straight up from the water, and with its rocky clefts just furnishing foothold for the active fisherman; pieces of rock seem to have been broken off and thrown into the water at its base, and among these trout are numerous. No place furnishes a pleasanter camping-ground, although not directly at the fishing ground, and few spots afford better sport. As fortune was not particularly propitious, and our journey was indefinitely extensive, we took advantage of a calm that had settled down upon the lake to push on across Goulais Bay, which lay as calm as a mirror, bathed in the glorious reflection of a cloudless sky.

Farther out, Isle Parisienne seemed floating on the water, while inside of us the bleak sides of the abrupt hills were reflected in long wavy lines. The sun had climbed the eastern sky and poured down a flood of warmth and light in strange contrast with the tempestuous weather of several days. The atmosphere, instead of being dense with impenetrable fog, was exquisitely transparent, and the water, that perfect ornament to every landscape, stretched away as far as the eye could reach.

“Dark behind it rose the forest,
Rose the black and gloomy pine-trees;
Rose the firs with cones upon them,
Bright before it beat the weather,
Beat the clear and sunny water,
Beat the shining Big-Sea-Water.”

Such a day is admirably adapted for taking lake-trout, and no sooner had we entered the bay than our lines were arranged for the purpose.

The Namaycush—pronounced more nearly like Namægoose, with the accent on the second syllable—the Salmo Amethystus of our ichthyologists, the Truite du Lac of the Canadian, and the Mackinaw Salmon of the American, inhabits Lake Superior throughout its length and breadth, is captured along the shores and in the bays, and when smoked, furnishes the principal food of the Indian. It prefers a rocky uneven bottom, where the water is neither excessively deep nor very shallow, and during the summer months bites readily at any of the ordinary trolling-spoons. An ivory imitation-fish is especially attractive; and an old-fashioned bowl-spoon, elongated with bright tin on one side and red on the other, is in general use.

Whenever the Indian is paddling in his canoe over any of the favorite localities, he trolls with the latter bait, which is sold at the stores in the Sault; and to make it imitate more accurately the herring it is intended to represent, he attaches the line to his paddle. By this means a peculiar darting motion is given to the spoon which is said to be very fatal. Buel’s patent spoons, whether with feathers or without, are successful; and so little particular is this voracious fish, that he will bite at a white rag attached to the bare hook.

Once struck, however, and he surrenders without an effort, appearing even to swim gently forward, which conduct, although natural in a man under similar circumstances, is not expected in a fish. So slight is his resistance that it is difficult at times to tell whether he is on the line or not; and although, of course, on approaching close to the boat he flounces and struggles a little before he can be gaffed, he affords the sportsman no excitement whatever. He may also be taken in deep water with a long line and sinker, with the lake-herring for bait, and is thus during the fall captured of enormous size.

He is found occasionally to weigh seventy pounds, and perhaps more; a handsome fish to look at, he is also excellent to eat, and with the peculiar conformation of the trout, he combines its elegance and the rich redness of flesh of the true salmon. He is rarely taken by trolling to exceed ten pounds in weight, and on the north shore more frequently of five or six; but of that size is an invaluable addition to the fisherman’s larder. He may be either boiled or broiled, and makes a capital foundation for a chowder. He must by no means be confounded with the siskawit, which is only taken in the upper part of the lake, rarely exceeds seven pounds, and is so fat as almost to dissolve in the frying-pan—at least we were thus informed by our guides, for we took none ourselves.

The best time to take them is in calm weather, because on such days they rise nearer the surface and are able to see the bait farther. If the wind is strong or the boat moving rapidly, they will not bite; in fact, the boat should not be sailed or rowed faster than three miles an hour, and a common hand-line of fifty or a hundred yards is sufficiently good tackle. They are persecuted by the aborigines, who capture vast numbers for winter use; but we never caught more than a dozen in a day, as we never fished exclusively for them.

Goulais Bay is one of their favorite haunts, and we were soon made aware of their presence. I had the pleasure of striking the first, and felt some anxiety, it being a new species to us, till he was safely gaffed and landed. He weighed four pounds and a half, and we fairly feasted our eyes over his beautiful shape. Don soon had one still larger, and we took six while crossing from the headland of Gros Cap to Goulais Point. They differed a little in size, the largest being six pounds, but not in shape or appearance, and were in their way as exquisite a collection of fish as ever were taken.

We could doubtless have killed many more if we had wished to remain for the purpose; but the Harmony River, our destination, was a long way off, and the sun was running across the sky at a rapid rate.

We stopped to dine at Goulais Point, and took advantage of the opportunity to bathe; the water, close to the shore where it was shallow and had been heated by the sun’s rays, was warm, but occasionally streaks cold enough almost to freeze the blood were encountered. The Namægoose, on being prepared for the pot, were found to contain spawn well advanced, and were exceedingly fat.

The dinner being over and the men rested, our slow progress was resumed, and we passed Maple Island—Isle aux Arabes—into Batchawaung Bay. The sun in his downward course marked out a broad golden path upon the still surface of the lake, vividly recalling to our minds that most exquisite picture in “Hiawatha” of the chieftain’s departure for the “land of the Hereafter;” which now had the charm of a peculiar interest, as we were floating upon the very waters where the scene is laid:

“And the evening sun, descending,
Set the clouds on fire with redness;
Burned the broad sky, like a prairie,
Left upon the level water
One long track and trail of splendor,
Down whose stream, as down a river,
Westward, westward Hiawatha
Sailed into the fiery sunset,
Sailed into the purple vapors,
Sailed into the dusk of evening.”

Thus dreamily murmured Don, as with his back against our biscuit-barrel, and his feet upon our butter-tub, he gazed upon the dying glories of the orb of day; and now, as the last glimmering spark sank below the horizon, the strange pale light of the north crept over the sky; the stillness of death brooded upon land and water, and ephemeræ, issuing from their larva state, burst into winged life and followed the course of our boat. Fronting us was the long island called by the same name as the bay beyond it, and towering far above were the mountains of the mainland, cleft in two places where the Harmony and Batchawaung Rivers had broken their way to the lake; to the right extended the bay for many miles, and to the left stretched in its immensity the trackless “Gitche-Gumee, Big-Sea-Water.” Darkness approaches slowly in northern latitudes; our oarsmen were weary, and our pace was moderate, but we had to make a long detour to reach the river beyond, and it was determined to camp on the island. Reaching the upper end, we landed, and our men searched for a favorable spot. One peculiarity of a voyageur is his antipathy to camping at an unusual place; warned by his experience of the inconveniences that attend such a course, the difficulty of making a comfortable bed, properly securing the tent, and arranging the fire, he will endure considerable extra labor to reach a spot with which he is acquainted. Therefore we were not surprised when Frank reäppeared and announced the impracticability of establishing our camp.

The day had been hard for the men; the weather had been hot and the journey long, and it gave me pleasure to hear Don propose that we should row for a time. He was rather unaccustomed to the exercise, but kept up bravely as we continued our course round the island and across towards the main shore. The pale light still filled the atmosphere to that degree that, at nine o’clock, we could read fine print; the ephemeræ still followed us with fluttering wings, and whisks extended; the death-like calmness still rested on the unruffled water. At the point of the island were four pretty little islets clustered together, lending additional beauty to the bay embosomed in majestic hills. The way seemed lengthened out amazingly, and our arms were weary, and the night had closed in darkness ere we reached the mouth of the Harmony River, the Auchipoisœbie of the Indians. Here we found an old camping-ground, almost a cleared field in size, and the remnants of several wigwams. Collecting the poles of the latter, we built a rousing fire that illuminated the surrounding forest and cast a lurid glow upon our active men. By its light we landed our stores, pitched our tent, established our quarters, and retired to rest.

We had made a long thirty-five miles, against unfavorable circumstances, felt exhausted but thankful we had arrived at last, and taking a little refreshment, drank good-luck to ourselves and the Harmony. Just as I was about closing my eyes to sublunary things, Don remarked:

“There is a serious question I have to put to you. To-day’s journey has probably been exceptionally slow and tedious, but how long, under ordinary circumstances, do you think it would require to come from New York to the Harmony River?”

Next morning early having broiled a Namægoose for breakfast and found it both well cooked and excellent, we ascended the level water that extends for some distance from the mouth of the river. The day was fair and the wind favorable, the birds sang their welcome merrily, and the trees bowed gracefully as we passed. An old duck and her young were startled by our approach, and fled, making such use of their powerful legs as to outstrip us readily. A short distance beyond the smooth water, and almost three miles from the lake, we came to the lower fall or pitch of the stream, which had become quite narrow, and there we made our camp.

It was a lovely spot; the thick trees formed a dense shade over our tent, the trembling cascade furnished continual music; opposite, a rivulet of purest ice-water emptied into the stream; in front the river spread out into a broad, quiet pool; while through intervening trees and bushes we could catch glimpses of the high falls a few hundred yards above us. Previous camps had been located at the same place, and a path had been cut to the rock close by, from which we could fish below the cascade.

Hastily disembarking such things as we had brought with us, impatient to explore the river, and tantalized by half glimpses of the cataract beyond, we crossed the stream in the barge, and guided by Frank, followed a well-worn pathway in the woods. A few hundred steps brought us to the bank, where a glorious prospect greeted us. The stream, rising among the summits of the hills, pitched down over a slanting precipice, seaming its brown face with irregular, delicate lines of silver. Issuing from a mountain gorge, so far above as to be scarcely distinguishable, it leaped over pitch after pitch, collecting in deep pools at every break, and whirling round or dashing over huge boulders in its course, till descending the last shute, the main body tumbled in one heavy wave into a dark, turbid pool at the base. From either shore the evergreen trees projected, leaning over as if to protect the uneasy river, and a heavy trunk, originally torn up and borne along by a spring freshet, had lodged upon a broad, bare, rocky island in the centre. Numerous little rills branched off from the main stream, and forming innumerable fantastic miniature water-falls, sought different paths to the lower level. The rocks were bare and mostly of a dull brown, constituting a strong contrast to the green fringing of the mountain sides, and were worn away by the immense volumes of water and ice that forced their way through in early spring and swept them clear of vegetation.

At the foot of the lower shute there was a seething cauldron, white with foam near the fall, and black from its great depth in the centre; below, the wearied stream rushed down a stretch of rapids, and sought temporary relief in a broad, quiet basin that reached to the first of the cascades, close to our camp, and in which the water seemed absolutely motionless.

Hardly giving ourselves time to note and enjoy the beauties of this most romantic spot, and urged on by the sportsman’s instinct that looks to the attractions of nature, after having tried for game, we commenced casting in the rapids. Our efforts were rewarded, and we landed some fine fish of from one to two pounds, and had grand sport with them in the current and eddies. Putting on for a tail-fly a large, full, brown hackle with scarlet body and silver twist, I at last advanced cautiously towards the black pool below the shute, and keeping well out of sight, cast it across the boiling water; it fell among a mass of whirling foam, but being swept down, passed over a portion of the dark water, and was ravenously seized by a fine trout.

Astounded at the unexpected consequence, the frightened fish darted hither and thither about the pool until, finding his efforts to free himself vain, he rushed towards the rapids below. Here the rod and line were powerless to restrain him, and he made the reel spin as I followed along the rocks. However, with care he was guided through the dangers of the foaming current, strong eddies, and projecting rocks, and was led after a long battle into a spot of comparative quiet, near an old dead tree that projected over the water.

Being myself prevented from approaching by the branches of this tree, I instructed Frank to watch a good chance and use the net; but never shall I forget his look as, after two or three vain attempts—for he was not altogether skilful—the upper fly caught in his shirt, and the trout, which must have weighed at least three pounds, made a furious dash, parted the leader, and escaped. As though it was my fault, instead of his awkwardness, Frank turned towards me with a most reproachful expression, and without a word came to have the hook cut from his shirt, intimating that if I would hook him, I could not expect to land large trout.

The fishing below the falls of the Harmony was absolute perfection; although the fish were not large, that is, not of monstrous size, and rarely exceeded two pounds, they invariably after a short struggle took to the rapids, and compelled us to follow them, at a pace and under difficulties that brought salmon-fishing vividly to our recollection. The steady roar of the falls and the picturesque wildness of the scene added to the intensity of the enjoyment, and served to occupy our minds when not employed upon our sport. Of easy access from our camp, we afterwards ordinarily visited them alone, leaving the men to attend to numerous household duties, and had the advantage of being able to wait upon ourselves.

The hours passed quickly by, and when the calls of appetite could no longer be resisted, we found ourselves with two dozen splendid trout, which were the selection from nearly a hundred. Well satisfied, we hastened back to our camping-ground which Charley had been busily arranging, and while the men were preparing dinner, we tried the cascade near by.

This was certainly a fortunate day, for Pedro soon hooked a splendid black bass and landed him, after a vigorous struggle of half an hour; he weighed three pounds and three-quarters, and was thoroughly game, and established a fact that Professor Agassiz seems to doubt—that black bass inhabit Lake Superior. The guides recognised him at once as an old acquaintance, and called him by the familiar name of achigon.

After a hearty dinner we descended to the mouth of the river for the residue of our camping articles, and while returning I trolled with a small Buel’s spoon. Unfortunately happening to espy a duck upon the water, I laid down my rod to take the gun, when a black bass struck, nearly jerking the rod out of the boat, and with a mad spring carried off my bait and casting line, while the duck, alarmed at the noise, flew away amid the confusion.

Having landed our load, and leaving the men to complete the camp, Don and myself hastened back to the scene of our morning’s sport to renew, and even surpass, our previous enjoyment; for after killing several fine fish in the strong water in splendid style, I struck one of great weight in my favorite pool. He soon took to the rapids, and stopping in an eddy, fouled the line without escaping. In vain all means were tried to clear the line without alarming the fish; it had caught on the further side of a large stone, and could only be reached from a rock that projected its smooth, slippery surface above the current at some distance from the shore. Rendered desperate, and summoning all my courage, I crept out into the rushing stream, and, supported by the handle to the landing-net, succeeded in reaching this dangerous location.

No sooner was the line free than the fish again darted down stream, taking out the line at a tremendous rate. I turned to follow, but what was my dismay to find that, although I had managed to get from the shore to the rock, the current followed such a direction that I could not return. On went the fish; in vain I sounded the bottom with the handle of the landing-net, or felt for a safe footing, or essayed to jump; the water was too threatening and the risk too great. Still the fish kept on, and I had just made up my mind to take the leap for his life or my own, when the line became exhausted and the leader parted. Slowly I wound in the line, sadly picturing the supposable weight of the escaped fish, and depressed in spirit, managed with Don’s assistance to regain terra firma. The only consolation was in the thought that we had secured full as many fish as we could use.

That night was extremely warm, and one of the most trying I ever endured in the northern woods; not only were mosquitoes abundant and ferocious, but that terrible pest, the sand-fly, existing by myriads in the sandy soil, made merciless attacks upon us. The shores of Lake Superior are unpleasantly prolific in all the minute torments that are most dreaded by the sportsman. During the day the black-fly absolutely swarms, in the evening the sand-fly arises from the sand in invisible millions, and at night numberless mosquitoes continue the pursuit; repelled, but not dismayed by ointment and liniment, they wait till it is dried or rubbed off, and dart upon the exposed part; they far exceed in numbers their brethren of New Brunswick, where the rocky soil is less suited to them, and, in spite of all defences during hot weather, inflict much misery.

Don’s first idea was to despise their attacks, and, disbelieving the virtues of pennyroyal and creasote, stoically to endure the discomfort of the woods as a necessary accompaniment to enjoying the pleasure; but by the time tea was over he had changed his mind, and at bedtime carefully enveloped himself in his veil.

The thermometer rose to eighty-six in the tent, and being little lower at midnight, the veils were found to be rather suffocating. The moderate temperature of the northern climate is the great protection of the sportsman; ordinarily in a trip of a month there will not be three oppressive days, but when the weather is warm and insects numerous, a good chance is offered to exhibit courage and jollity. Next morning, when the heat continued, and the sun, rising above the hills, shone through the dense fog like a globe of fire, Don wore a solemn but patient expression of countenance, and fully justified my confidence in his endurance.

The weather during the early season had been warm and dry, and the lake was two feet below its ordinary level, and although its main body retained a cool temperature, the shallows were heated. The rivers, on the contrary, that flow into it from the north, taking their rise from swamps and shallow ponds, not only are tinctured with decaying vegetation and are of a rich amber hue, but had absorbed the heat, so that the fish which in our latitude are in summer accustomed to desert the lakes for the cool spring brooks, had mostly left the rivers for the cooler lake. Only where the water was cooled and aërated by a fall, or at the mouth of some trickling spring, were they to be found in any numbers.

I have said that opposite the camp there was such a rivulet, and at its mouth, crowded together, each striving to get his nose nearest to it, was a fine school of large fish. The water of this rivulet must have been not far above the freezing point in temperature, and was delicious drinking, while the main stream was nearly tepid.

Being informed by our guides that there was a second fall above the first, and good fishing near it, we proceeded, after taking a few fish and a good drink from our spring-water rill, to ascend the river. We were compelled to make our way through the brushes and undergrowth, over the dead trees, and among the rocks that covered the shore, and were hardly repaid for our labor; the fall proved to be only a small cascade, and though there was a deep fine pool at its base which Frank assured us contained trout of five pounds, we could not persuade any of them to rise. As no fish above the main fall could have access to the lake, I felt convinced there were none of large size, and the weather continuing warm, we returned early to the camp.

That evening was again devoted to the black bass, which took both the fly and spoon greedily, and which, when captured, were deposited alive in a pond-hole in the rock, where their appearance and motions could be studied to advantage. They were not handsome fish, with their broad backs, deep bodies, and thick heads; their extended fins were peculiar and characteristic, and their general form, fierce red eyes, and large mouths were more indicative of ferocity than grace. Those that we opened, although it was in the month of July, were heavy with spawn, and the ova had the appearance of being almost ready for deposit,—suggesting the possibility that these fish differ from those of the eastern country in their spawning season. It is hardly conceivable that they would carry their eggs till April or May of the ensuing year, in which month black bass spawn elsewhere; and if not, their habits must be entirely dissimilar.

The long walk through the sand and mud had made our shoes rather unpresentable, restoring along the edges the original russet of the leather; and as he was about retiring, Don suggested to me the propriety in our next trip of bringing with us blacking and brushes.

CHAPTER IV

Next morning, the weather being cooler and the wind favorable, we took our departure, after having captured some fine fish at the falls pool, for the Batchawaung River. It was but a short journey round a sandspit that projected into the bay, where we took a single trout, and we were soon in the mouth of the deep dark river. The banks were low and of course covered with trees, most of which were of the deciduous character; the water was sluggish, and the interval between the bay and distant mountain extended several miles.

We passed an Indian paddling a canoe loaded with bark, the sole occupant besides ourselves of the quiet stream, and our guides conversed fluently with him in the musical Indian tongue. Occasionally a brood of ducks, alarmed at our approach, broke the oppressive silence with their vigorous efforts to escape, and Don, trolling with Buel’s spoon for black bass, struck and landed a small ill-favored pickerel—esox boreus—of some four pounds weight.

The Batchawaung is the favorite resort for anglers who visit the north shore, and being within easy access of the Sault—not more than a day’s sail with favorable weather—is fished to excess. It is a large stream, filled with rapids and pools, and usually crowded with trout of immense size; but the water is dark and easily heated, so that the fish often desert it for the lake. There is a sameness about the Batchawaung, and a want of picturesque effect, that is altogether different from the Harmony; we missed the noise of the falling water, the sight of the pretty cascade, when we came to pitch our tent about four miles from the mouth, at the first shallow rapids, and throughout our whole trip we never saw the equal of the romantic Harmony.

There are but two rivers emptying into Batchawaung Bay that are generally laid down on the maps—the Batchawaung and the Chippewa—but the guides assured us there were four fine streams. The location usually given to the Chippewa applies well to the Harmony, and it may be they are the same river under different names. Our ordinary maps of the northern shore of Lake Superior are altogether imperfect, and even the charts of the Hudson’s Bay Company are not entirely accurate.

Anxious to explore the stream, no sooner was our camp pitched and dinner over than we embarked and continued the ascent, being poled against the current by the two guides, and trying every promising spot as we passed. Fish, however, were nowhere to be found, and disgusted with the heat that not only annoyed ourselves but had destroyed our sport, we were about giving up, when Frank stopped the boat over against the mouth of a little murmuring tributary brook. There were a quantity of small stones and large rocks where the rivulet joined the river, and the cast being a long one, I extended my line and dropped the fly just where the two currents met. It was taken instantly by a fish that, after fifteen minutes’ vigorous play, was landed and found to weigh two and a half pounds.

That inaugurated our sport, and was followed by the capture of at least two dozen magnificent trout, that were not only immense in size, averaging nearly three pounds, but were extremely beautiful and uncommonly vigorous. Their tints were rich and dark, differing as greatly from the lake fish as the trout of the Canadian rivers differ from those of the salt water. They fought with great courage and perseverance, requiring skill and patience to land; and anxious as we were to take a large one, that is to say, one of over four pounds, those of two and three pounds were so numerous and voracious that we could not effect our object.

We landed some by hand and threw many back into the water, but, notwithstanding, soon had more than we could possibly use. There being no reason for our taking any more, and Don having complained that the cast was inconveniently long on account of the imperfections of his rod, I assured him I could cast entirely across the pool, and to prove it, lengthened my line, and at the first cast hooked fast in the rock beyond. Not caring to break the line, we dropped the boat across the stream, and while passing over the pool, beheld the bottom literally black with fish. If we had been inclined to wanton destruction, we could doubtless have killed a hundred; but having no means to pot or souse them, and knowing that they are comparatively worthless salted or smoked, we had resolved not to kill more than we could eat.

On the way back to camp we took a long, lean, poor, sickly fish, that, if in good order, would have reached six pounds, but in its unhealthy state only weighed two and a half.

At supper that evening Don made a formal protest and complaint, insisting that he would drink no more tea till he had white sugar; he entered at some length into the characteristics and peculiarities of sugar in its various stages, questioned the advantage of using brown sugar at all, intimated that white was the best, most economical, and least bulky, advised me in future to take none other, and finally having disposed of every conceivable case but his own, inquired why, when we had abundance of both, he was not allowed the one he preferred, by which time I had it out and ready at his hand. He had evidently braced himself for a terrible argument, seemed somewhat surprised at the want of opposition, and after a moment or two began to call in question the propriety of opening a new package, when the brown sugar was already in use; that, in fact, although some people preferred white, and he must confess he was among the number, others liked the flavor of the dark colored; that little inconveniences were the natural concomitants of a sportsman’s life; that when a number of bundles were opened they were more exposed to dampness—a serious injury to sugar—and there were more packages to look after, and that he was decidedly of opinion it was unadvisable, and that he was entirely willing to go without his tea. By this time the tea was drunk and supper ended.

It is a delightful thing of a cool summer evening to sit round a rousing fire that casts its variable glare upon the trunks and lower branches of the stalwart trees, and gives a ruddy glow to the white tent, the dense underbrush, and the kindly faces of the honest guides. At such times, while listening to wild stories of woodsman’s life, that are doubly interesting when repeated upon the ground where they occurred, a pipe is absolutely delicious. Every member of the temporary household selects a rock or log, fashions a seat to his satisfaction as best he may, and recalls the events of other similar expeditions for the edification of his associates. On such occasions cigars, which are cumbersome at all times, do not seem to answer, and recourse is had to the little pouch of Killikinnick which every one carries with him; under the joint influence of story and tobacco, the time passes quickly away, and the hour of bedtime arrives too soon.

Notwithstanding the summer evenings are usually cool above the line of the British Provinces, we happened to have fallen upon a hot spell; and although the fire was not disagreeable, the mosquitoes, which are benumbed by cold, were lively and plentiful. Under these circumstances our mode of proceeding was to close the tent and then with a candle carefully burn them one after another. To do this successfully requires nerve and skill; the light must be approached quickly enough to catch the nimble fellows, and just far enough not to scorch the tent; the operation gave Don decided pleasure, especially as they are consumed with a loud “pop.” In course of the proceeding he incidentally remarked: “Their galleys burn; why not their cities, too?”

Next day we ascended the river to the falls, which were about three miles from camp, and were found to be attractive neither to the fisherman nor the lover of nature. The water was warm and fishless, the shute was small and unromantic. We dined at its foot, and descending, fished the pool that the day before had rewarded us so satisfactorily. Our prey was still there, eager as ever for hook and feathers, and soon covered the bottom of our boat with their glistening forms. My line after some time happening to become fouled in the bottom, and skilful fishing appearing to be out of place, I laid down the fly-rod, and taking the bass-rod, cast the trolling-spoon with some effort and a loud splash into the pool; instead of alarming the fish, it was eagerly seized, and I kept on catching fish with it at every cast, till Don became disgusted with such unsportsmanlike procedure, and insisted upon returning to camp.

That day was made remarkable by the advent of a thunder-storm, a rarity in the northern clime, and the only one that occurred during our entire trip. It was not violent, and had none of those terrible characteristics of similar phenomena in southern latitudes, and even in our regions would have been considered a tame affair.

As, however, it drove us within the tent, and gave us a little unemployed leisure, my attention was attracted to Don’s baggage, which consisted of an incongruous assortment that would hardly have been thought of by any other amateur backwoodsman, and would certainly have astounded a professional. Of course there were abundant clothes of various colors and kinds, of which a buckskin under-jacket suitable for severe winter weather, but hardly necessary in a summer-trip, and a handsome dressing-gown, were prominent articles; also his shaving materials, very neat and elegant, that were not used till he returned; a thermometer that kept us informed as to the amount of suffering we were entitled to feel from the condition of the weather; a picture of his two extremely pretty children, set in a passe-partout frame, with a glass over it that was in daily danger of destruction, a bundle of tooth-picks that would have lasted us both a year, a new and effective patent portable boot-jack, a clothes-brush and whisp, a bottle of eau de cologne, a pair of flesh-brushes, and many other things that might be classed as “odds and ends.”

Most of these articles were jumbled together in a large water-proof bag, from which he was never known to be able to obtain any specific article without emptying the whole on the floor; but the picture, his looking-glass, comb, hair-brush, and soap he kept among the eggs. The eggs suffered considerably from the association, and their injury was felt by myself as head cook; but Don could never be persuaded to change his habits, producing abundant arguments to prove that that was their only appropriate place.

At supper he announced his firm conviction that china cups and plates were a necessity to existence, that tin was an abomination, and that on all future trips he should be properly supplied. He was indignant at a suggestion that they might be broken, and burst forth:

“You are so set in your ways that you think no one can have any ideas but yourself, or make any improvement on your plans. Here you are, drinking high-priced tea, and even brandy-and-water, out of tin cups that hold a quart,”—this was an exaggeration, as they were only pints—“have a disgusting taste that absolutely destroys the flavor, and are of such a shape that you have to dip your nose into the fluid before you can swallow any of it. With hot tea this is painful, and with brandy, or even water, far from pleasant.”

“Glass or china would be more agreeable on some accounts——” was the mild reply.

“I should think so,” he interrupted. “Allow me to ask what you paid for this tea?”

“One dollar and fifteen cents a pound.”

“And what does it taste like?”

“Tea.”

“Tea! Well, there are some people that can hardly tell wash-basin slops from the best Bohea.”

“But, then,” I hurriedly explained, to moderate his disgust, “china is so liable to be broken; I had once an entire case of liquor smashed by my guides.”

“Yes, and that liquor-case is a case in point; because that was lost you do not give up carrying liquor, do you? Then why cease using china cups, not that they have been, but only from fear that they may be broken?”

“They are so much heavier than tin,” I remonstrated.

“As if the weight of two cups, one for you and one for me, and two plates, was so serious. Let’s dispense with something else; take less to eat, if you please, but have it decently served.”

Convinced by this eloquence, I meekly promised to comply on our next expedition, but Don was not altogether satisfied, and continued:

“I do not wish you to consent to these views merely to suit my wishes. I want you to be convinced. I dare say there are advantages about tin; it may be knocked about, is always ready at hand, is light, and stores in small compass; for rough travel, doubtless, it is admirable, and, were we to make long portages, would be better than china. After all, the taste of tin must be more apparent than real; the metal cannot come off, or it would dissolve; and how, then, can it give a taste? The pots are large, but a man wants a good, long drink, whether of tea or brandy, when exhausted with hard work or exposure. After all, you will find many advantages in tin cups, and, really, the plates are scarcely objectionable; before deciding, you must look at these matters from both points of view. However, as we cannot obtain china this trip, and as we are discussing improvements, there is one thing I insist upon hereafter—we must have table-cloths and napkins.”

“What!” I exclaimed, absolutely overcome at this suggestion.

“Table-cloths and napkins. You have probably heard of such things before; they are customary at a gentleman’s table, and if a person does sleep in a tent, he need not forget he is a gentleman. Look at this table, made out of two rough boards that were never even planed, transported in the bottom of our boat, and walked over daily with dirty shoes and occasionally with bare feet, sullied with the marks of promiscuous bundles, half covered with grease, and stained with tea, bilge-water, and fish-blood gracefully intermingled.”

“That is too bad; they are two good, clean boards that Frank washes regularly, and which are in themselves an unusual luxury; for in wood’s-life we usually dine off a log or a flat rock.”

“They may be washed occasionally; but as dead fish are first gutted on them, and as tea and grease are afterwards spilled on them till they are revolting with filth, I do not see, for my part, how you can eat your dinner off them.”

“I don’t eat off them; I eat off my plate.”

“That you may call a joke; but hereafter I shall have table-cloths and napkins. You carry towels, why not napkins?”

“Because you cannot stow a large number, and if you have only a few, how are they to be kept clean? The guides have enough to do without trying to wash table-cloths with cold water and no starch.”

“If that is so, I should take an extra man to wash them.”

The next day we met with a loss. We had noticed that the Indians, when they travelled, were invariably accompanied by their dogs; these were rarely accommodated on board the canoes, and followed along the shore, swimming the inlets or crossing at the head, making often much longer journeys than their masters, who passed from headland to headland, but coming up with the camp at night to partake of the frugal meal. Sometimes, however, they strayed, and either lived on chance gleanings from travellers or perished in the woods. There were two ownerless dogs near our camp, and although precautions had been taken by our men, they succeeded in carrying off our only ham, leaving us nothing to show for it but the empty bag.

Don’s appetite had been sharpened by open air and exercise, and he expatiated at length upon disappointed hopes of fried ham, broiled ham, ham omelets, ham plain, and ham and eggs, and suggested many new and doubtless excellent dishes, of which ham was to be the principal part. His advice was valuable, but somewhat late.

Being already tired of the to me uninteresting Batchawaung and its one pool of numberless trout, and having a strong and favorable breeze, we broke up camp, descended the river, killing a duck on the way, and once out in the open water, headed for the Point of Mamainse, which is Chippewa for sturgeon. The wind, however, soon came out ahead, increased to a gale, and drove us into L’anse aux crêpes, or Pancake Bay, where we were detained that day and night.

L’anse aux crêpes is at the mouth of a little rivulet that tumbles over scattered boulders, and occasionally contains some nice trout; but the water was low, and although we caught enough small fish for supper, we did better with young ducks, happening to get a shot into a brood, and killing with the two discharges seven plump, luscious, well-grown little fellows, which replenished the gridiron finely.

The temperature fell to thirty-seven degrees, and with it the mosquitoes—a delightful change from the oppressive heat and hungry hordes that had tormented us. We camped for the night at the mouth of the rivulet, and continuing our voyage early next morning, soon reached the bold, imposing promontory called by the Indian name Mamainse. The shore is rocky and precipitous to such an extent, that the fisherman finds difficulty in casting the fly, or even pursuing his way along the steep cliffs.

The water is filled with broken rocks, as at other parts of the coast, and where these project above the surface a good stand is obtained. At one spot the waves had worn out a deep cavern, where a dozen men could sleep, protected from the air, and often under foot could be heard the smothered rumbling of the water as it rushed into deep holes out of sight. Above the bare rocks, which are often fifty feet perpendicular, stretch the sparse underbrush, the stunted evergreens, and the moss-covered granite of the mountains, till they reach an elevation of a thousand feet. Frowning down upon the water stands the Point of Mamainse, a rallying-spot for the summer fogs and winter storms, a landmark to the voyageur, a barrier to the fiercest commotion of the lake, and the upper boundary of Tequamenon Bay, as the confined portion of Lake Superior near its outlet is called.

It is an extensive promontory, and point after point presented itself to our wearied eyes; we landed, rose, and lost some fine fish, and killed several of good size; but as the wind was adverse, we could not afford to waste time, and pursued our journey till nightfall.

Next morning we tasted a Batchawaung trout that Frank had salted and smoked by hanging near the fire; inasmuch as it was green and had not lost its original flavor altogether, it was quite appetizing; but a smoked trout that has been dried sufficiently to keep, is about as hard, unpalatable, and indigestible a morsel as man can put in his mouth. It has neither the flavor of the mackerel nor the richness of the cod, and not the slightest pretence to the delicacy of the salmon. Slightly salted and smoked, however, it will remain good for several weeks, and furnish a variety to the woodsman’s Spartan fare.

Unfortunately there is no way of preserving trout; these fish, so delicate fresh, are almost worthless pickled, soused, salted, or smoked; while those of a size to be worth catching are too large to preserve by potting, in which way alone can their flavor be preserved. They are pickled by being immersed in water that has had sugar and salt boiled in it; they are soused by being cooked and preserved in vinegar and allspice; they are smoked by being salted for a night and hung in a smoke-house or near the fire; they are kippered by being rubbed with salt and a little pepper, and hung in the sun; they are potted by being cooked and packed tightly in jars, and having hot lard or butter with spices run in and over them. Only when prepared in the latter way are they eatable, and then only when they are small.

This day we had our first really favorable wind that bellied out our sail, and relieving the men from the labor at the oars, drove us along at a famous rate, enabling us to push boldly out into the lake that was alive with the dancing, foam-crested waves, and urging us onward famously in a direct course.

When far from shore and miles from the habitations of a civilized being, we espied approaching another barge similar to our own, and which proved also to be carrying a party of fishermen.

Our sail was hastily lowered, and the vessels being laid alongside of one another, we held an interesting conversation with our fellow-travellers. It appeared they had ascended the Neepigon, and gave glowing accounts of the number of fish, but not much of the character of the fishing; saying that the trout, which were large on the average, were collected in pools as we had found them in the Batchawaung, and were so numerous as to ruin the sport. They had had a long journey, and were out of whiskey, a deprivation that we hastened to supply; and were glad to see civilized beings, and to feel that they were once more on the confines of the land of the white man.

With mutual good wishes we bid them farewell, and watched their barge after we separated growing smaller and smaller in the distance, till it was lost to view. How suggestive are such meetings of individuals who have never encountered one another before, who form an acquaintance as it were in the wilderness, shut out from the rest of mankind, and, separated, never to meet in the wide world again; like a ray of sunshine through a storm-cloud, shining for an instant across the surrounding darkness, gone in a moment, and never to be re-illumined, leaving nothing behind but a pleasant memory! Not one of the persons in either boat will ever forget that meeting, and nevertheless no conceivable circumstances can bring them together again on the boundless waters of Lake Superior.

We reached the Agawa that night. The stream was sluggish at its outlet, near which a change in its course had left a small pond in the sandy shore, and was not altogether inviting, with its shallow, discolored, heated current. It has a high reputation among those who have explored it, but flows into the lake in a commonplace manner. A neighboring swamp encouraged the growth of mosquitoes; and the black flies, which seemed to be of an unrecognized and indescribably vicious species, were annoying in the extreme. There was a small settlement of Indians near by, and hardly had we commenced pitching our camp, which had to be located some distance from shore on account of the pebbly beach, ere they appeared.

There was an old man, the embodiment of harmless idiotcy, who turned out to be a patriarch and not the fool he looked; two fine-looking, straight-featured young men; two boys, a little girl, and three dogs. The latter evidently belonged to the family, for they all, dogs included, stood in a row, the latter fully as intelligent as the former, and none of them offering the least assistance while our men and ourselves raised the tent. The old man wore a conciliatory expression of imbecility, the young men a confirmed air of vacuity, and the dogs and children seemed imbued with a few sparks of intellect.

They made no motion and uttered no word till a fire was lighted, when they instantly crouched round it. As a race, living in the rudest manner, and debased from their native simplicity by contact with the white man, they have small claims to intelligence; but to their credit, be it said, they are ordinarily honest, and unless grossly outraged, perfectly harmless.

They are readily moved to laughter, greatly enjoyed the appearance of our hats, which were stuck round with flies, and shouted with delight at the noise made by Don’s click reel, when he took a trout in the small pond previously mentioned, and throughout our intercourse with them, proved themselves pleasant, trustworthy companions.

While our guides were preparing supper, Don proceeded to explore the neighborhood, and made his way to the wigwams, where he found more of the same family. Immediately on our appearance, the women, after peering furtively through the chinks, retired into obscurity, ignorant, probably, of our high delicacy towards the female sex; and in fact throughout, betrayed a disgusting want of confidence; the three favorite wives of the silly old patriarch, wives that we were told were both young and pretty, having fled into the bush before our canoe had touched land. During our entire stay we had nothing but dissolving views of female charms—loveliness that was not arrayed in crinoline—although Don devoted every spare moment to persistent visits.

A young man appeared promptly from under the blanketed door of the first wigwam, and Don commenced an instructive conversation on the subject of numerous dogs that were howling round in unpleasant proximity to our calves.

“You have a large number of dogs?”

“Ya.”

“I suppose you use them in the chase?”

“Ya.”

“They accompany you in your journeys?”

“Ya.”

“What do you chase with them?”

“Ya.”

“I asked what do you chase with them?”

“Ya.”

“Oh, I see you speak French.”

“Ya.”

“Qu’est ce que l’on chasse avec les chiens?”

“Ya.”

Don now began to doubt whether his new friend spoke either French or English, and had recourse to Chippewa, at least as near Chippewa as he could come.

“Vat you chase, chassy, vis the doggees?”

“Ya.”

“You chase les cerfs the deer, the elks, the moose?” gesticulating freely.

“Ya.”

“The beaver, the—the—castor?”

“Ya.”

“The rabbit, the—the—ze rabeet?”

“Ya.”

“Don,” I burst forth at this stage, “he does not understand a word you are saying.”

“On the contrary, he evidently understands perfectly, how else could he answer so intelligently; of course he does not pronounce yes accurately, but is entirely comprehensible.”

“Well, then, ask him about the canoe he is building; how many it will hold, what those strings are for, and where he caught that large trout yonder?”

“You build ze canoe?”

“Ya.”

“How many it hold?”

“Ya.”

“It hold one?”

“Ya.”

“It hold two?”

“Ya.”

“You see he says it holds one or two.”

“Well, now about the strings.”

“Zese strings, what for?”

“Ya.”

“No no; what for yese strings?”

“Ya.”

“What zay use for?” raising his voice.

“Ya.”