Lathan A. Crandall

“ There is a place in the pasture-lot where the brook stretches itself out in a long reach of still water. Above and below are rippling shallows. Wary as is his approach, the boy sees the shy trout darting from the riffles into the darker water. Patiently he dangles his baited hook by the side of a sunken log, and trails it temptingly back and forth before the coverts where the cunning fish lie hidden, but all in vain. They have learned by experience that the presence of a blue jumper and a blue pole spells out danger for them, and refuse to take any risks. ”

“ By a trail the eastern branch could be struck well up towards its source, and from this point down to the lake furnished just about the right distance for a day’s fishing. Bright and early the start was made, with plenty of bread and butter, a skillet, and a supply of fat, salt pork. The fisherman who could not be happy on such a stream, on such a day, whether the fish would bite or not, listening to the laughter of the water, watching the flickers of sunshine strained through the meshes of the trees, drinking in the sweet, pure air, in close touch with nature, is a hopeless pessimist. ”

“ In every meadow and pasture lot red and yellow and blue and purple, with many indescribable shades, delight the eye and the heart of the traveller. The rhododendron, with its brilliant colouring, is everywhere, and the little forget-me-not nods to every passerby. Up and still up we climb, and every turn of the road brings new exclamations of delight as the wonderful panorama of mountain and valley unfolds before us.
But now we have reached the summit, and the tired horses are brought to a halt in front of the little hotel where we are to have our mid-day meal. ”

“ He could not see the painfully anxious face of the Preacher endeavouring to balance himself on a peeled log and haul a big trout out of the brush by a sheer pull. He had no knowledge of the fervour with which the Preacher embraced him, or of the perilous journey to the shore along that treacherous pathway. He could not see the comrade of the Preacher when, excited by the splashing made by the Bully in his efforts to get off the hook, he jumped into the stream in his anxiety to be of help. ”

“ Few good trout streams flow past the front door of a summer hotel. It is necessary, as a rule, even on Prince Edward Island, to journey beyond the dooryard before coming to the favourite haunts of that festive fish. The walking is good? Yes, but the Preacher found a way that beats walking all to death. Have a man at the hotel where you are stopping, who keeps his own team and coachman; who counts that day lost in which he catches no trout; who is intelligent, genial, unselfish; who invites you daily to share his buggy in trips to streams that swarm with fish. ”

“ Regret being born in the country? Do you know that I can shut my eyes and see the hills and meadows and orchard, fairer than any ever put in colours on the canvas? I can see the oriole’s nest swinging from a branch of the big elm in the corner of our yard and the nest of the pewee under the bridge. Just across the road in the meadow are glorious masses of violets, and mother’s peonies and sweet pinks beat anything I’ve ever seen since. When I’m dog-tired from the day’s work it rests me just to think of the quiet and calm and beauty of the old home among the hills. ”

“ At four o’clock the next morning we are awakened by the chugging of the tug. Day is just breaking, and the lake is as smooth as the floor of a bowling alley. Three hours later we are tied up to a sandy beach on the west shore of the lake, and vacation has really begun. Not a house is to be seen except two or three in the distance on the opposite shore. Ten rods away, to the north, a mountain stream comes rushing down the canyon and goes billowing far out into the lake. At the south end of the beach a giant mass of bare rock lifts itself into the air, while the mountains are all about us. ”

“ But it takes more than a heavy dory and an unappreciative passenger to discourage men who are firm believers in the perseverance of the saints, and the Judge and the Preacher hauled their burden through a mile of mud and water, and live to tell the tale.
Fair Prince Edward Island! Across the years the Preacher sees your smiling fields and sober woods and hears the beat of the surf and the tinkle of silver streams. Land of trout! Land of peace! ”

“ The woods are calling to us and the waters tempt us. The trout are jumping in the pool just beyond the big stump, and a deer is feeding in the meadow yonder. Great herons fly lazily along the shores of the bay, or go on frog-hunting expeditions among the rushes. Surely, there is something better to do than to loll on the porch, and the first important task is to interview those impertinent trout. Leaders are brought out and soaked, flies selected, the Leonard rod jointed and everything made ready. ”

“ To be sure, there are spots of green where fruit-trees have been planted and water from the river or from some irrigation ditch is led in and out through the orchard. But to one who has seen the beauty of an eastern landscape, before whose eyes comes a vision of stately trees and luxuriant meadows and babbling brooks of clear, cold water, those little dabs of green in the midst of wide stretches of dreariness awaken pity and not admiration. ”

“ Not a few experiences are more amusing when considered in retrospect than at the time when they are going forward. When the guide proposed to the Preacher that they visit a little lake a couple of miles from the cabin, try for trout at sundown and then float for deer when darkness had fallen, the proposition was greeted with applause. Although the trail was not an easy one, the guide carried a canoe on his shoulders and the Preacher trudged on behind with the guns and rods, his mind filled with alluring visions of mighty trout and at least one big buck. ”

“ It is the voice of the brook. It gurgles and laughs and pleads. It says, “Ha! ha! ha! Isn’t this a beautiful world, and this the finest day ever? Come on, little boy, and play in my ripples. I’ve some nice peppermint growing on my banks, and all sorts of pretty pebbles that I have washed for you. Look sharp, now! Do you see that trout lying at the head of the riffle? Do you know that I counted thirty-seven as big as he is between the bridge and the Deer Pond? Come and catch ‘em!” ”

“ The evening of that day found us on board a vestibule Northwestern train, bound for Duluth and the Nepigon. At Duluth we exchanged rolling for sailing—by steam. If the weather had been at all nasty, we should have combined rolling with sailing; for the little tub which plies between Port Arthur and Duluth was evidently designed to exemplify all the possibilities in the way of tumbling about. But Lake Superior was on its good behaviour, with its face as smooth and calm as that of a sportsman when he has just landed a five-pound trout. ”

“ Just why fish stories should be discredited so readily by those who do not fish it is difficult to understand. Why should a man who does not know the difference between a spoon-hook and an ostrich feather and who cannot tell a sunfish from a rainbow trout sit in judgment upon the solemn assertions of experienced anglers? ”

“ The checkers of sunlight are dancing all about you, a red squirrel is scolding at you from a neighbouring tree, a mink may go stealing by if you are quiet, and over all is a great peace which steals into the heart, filling it with profound contentment.
One day we followed far up the brook, so far that when the night fell and we saw a farmer’s home across the fields, it was deemed wise to seek lodging there for the night rather than to attempt the long trip back to the Point through the darkness. ”

“ No wonder that the beauty-loving trout came from far and from near to this place of assembly. If the truth must be told a majority cared less about the election than they did for the climate. Search the country over and you could not find a more charming spot. Just where a great clump of white birches made a whispering place for the wind, Blue Rock Brook came gurgling down into the river. ”

“ With all the copper wire paid out, the old man rows slowly over the deepest parts of the lake, while the tourist sits holding the handle of the windlass, ready to begin turning at the least suspicion of a strike. Now and then there is a false alarm, and the excited fisherman cranks in a thousand feet of wire only to find a piece of wood or weed fastened to the spoon-hook. When, by chance, a trout is hooked, the sensation differs little from that experienced in winding up a bucket of water from a deep well. ”

“ You have not heard of the hard tramp up the canyon, past almost innumerable cascades and rapids, back and upwards until a pool is reached where a great throng of mountain trout is assembled. That marvellous rainbow which followed the Sunday afternoon storm must be ignored. ”

“ Off come the flies and on goes a fat worm. Gently the wriggling bait is dropped into the water, just in the shadow of a huge rock, when, tug—zip—whoop—“Hello! Bring the landing net!—Quick! I’ve got him!—Hurry up!” The air is heavy with the Preacher’s cries, and the rod is springing under the mad dives of the trout, and then—it is all over, and out on the grass lies a beautiful “two-pounder,” and the Preacher is suffering from the taunts and jeers of the Business Man and the Doctor: “Caught it with a worm!” ”

“ That night as we told the champion fisherman of the village of the experience at the old mill, he poured a little balm upon our sore spirit by exclaiming, “That’s no trout, that’s a whale. There isn’t a fisherman within twenty-five miles of the old mill who has not hooked that fish and lost him.” Strange, isn’t it, how other men’s ill fortune takes some measure of the sting from our own? ”

“ Edwin Crumb’s trout is beaten with room to spare.
But now it dawns upon the boy that he has been gone a long time, and if he hopes to be permitted to repeat this trip he must hurry home. He also becomes acutely conscious of an awful vacuum in the region of his stomach which even crinkle-root and ground-nuts will not fill. He reasons with himself that he can reach home more quickly by striking through the woods to the road than by retracing his way along the brook. He is very sure that he knows the way, but his certitude evaporates steadily as he plunges his way through the woods. ”

“ We pass the neat log cabins of our guides, catch glimpses of a few wigwams on the western shore, and by five o’clock in the afternoon land at Camp Alexander, some twelve miles from Nepigon station. This camp is on a large pool at the foot of a rapid. The water comes foaming down through the narrow pass between the rocks, and then swirls and eddies and boils and bubbles before beginning its quiet journey toward the lake. It is just the place for trout. Rods are quickly assembled, flies carefully selected, and, trembling with eagerness, the fishermen make their way to the stream. ”

“ Now we have left the level road and begin the long and tortuous climb towards the summit of the Simplon Pass. Again and again we cross the brawling stream with which the road disputes the right of way. The bridges are all of solid stone. Yonder, to the left, the mountains rise in great ridges and piles of raw rock, while on the right a more gentle slope is covered with grass and shrubs. We begin to count the waterfalls, threads of spun silver hung against the dark background of the rocks, but soon lose track of the count. ”

“ Where a railroad crosses a Michigan river is a deep pool under the bridge. As a fisherman was casting in this pool one day, he had a mighty strike followed by the fierce whizzing of his reel as the fish ran out the line. ”

“ Another bait, and again the hook is lowered into the pool. No, the old fellow was not pricked the first time, for here he is again and this time firmly hooked. To balance the body on the limb when both hands are employed in tugging on the line, is no easy task, but at last the trout is in his hands and hugged to his breast. With the fingers of one hand through his gills and the thumb among the sharp teeth of the fish’s mouth, the slow journey is made back to the shore. Glory enough for one day! ”

“ Bass fishing on the Bay of Quinte is famous for its excellence. Not only is there abundance of fish, but they are exceptionally gamey. Their vigour and eagerness to be caught is illustrated by the member of this tribe that jumped into our boat. Every one has heard of the Florida mullet that, attracted by the light in a boat at night, came jumping over the sides in such numbers that they sank the boat and imperilled the lives of those on board. But a bass is no such fool fish as a mullet. If they do any jumping it is usually away from the boat, not towards it. ”

“ Where the water rushes around some rock or point of sand, where current struggles with current and a great swirl grows out of the conflict, there the rainbow-trout hold their town-meetings. We attended some of them and tried our uttermost to break them up. It was in a visit to one of these gatherings that the Junior made his bow to the inhabitants of the Kootenay waters. Behold the young man (not quite four years old) seated in the stern of the boat, rod firmly grasped, determination in his eye, while his aged sire works the oars. ”