cast.

But there is nothing so tests a salmon angler's skill and patience as to cast in an eddy or whirl. No matter how carefully or at what distance one casts, the moment the fly touches the water it begins to come back upon you, compelling constant casting if you cast at all. The result is a great deal of hard work with very little effect, because to keep a straight line your fly must be lifted almost the very moment it finds a lodgment on the surface. In such a pool one soon becomes weary with his efforts to place and hold his fly in the desired position, for it is not often that he is rewarded by a rise. Since my first experience in such a pool I have never hankered after its counterpart. And yet it was a sort of success in this wray: Having become tired casting I allowed my fly to go as it pleased. It was soon out of sight, having been drawn down by one of the whirls, and in reeling up to prevent its being twisted around the rock I presumed to be the primary cause of the whirl, I found myself hooked to a fish which had taken my fly at least ten or twelve feet below the surface. When I first felt him he came up as easily as a six-ounce chub, and I supposed I had nothing heavier than a medium sized trout. But as soon as he felt the hook and saw my canoe he showed his mettle, and gave me just such a fight as I might have expected from a twenty-pound salmon, as he proved to be. That was the first and last salmon I ever took with the fly so far under water. The rule with some anglers is "to let the fly sink a little"; my rule is never to let it sink at all. When a fish strikes I want to see him. There is no movement that so thrills and delights me as the rush of the salmon for the fly. To me, half the pleasure of a rise is lost if I don't see the head and shoulders of the kingly fish when he leaps for the lure.

The manner of casting is almost as varied as the casters themselves. You will seldom see two salmon anglers cast precisely alike. Some cast with a straight backward and forward movement, without the divergence of a hair. Others secure a half sweep to the line by giving the backward movement over the left shoulder and the return over the right, or vice versa. Still others almost invariably cast sideways, or "under" as it is called, seldom lifting their rod perpendicularly. Some stand as erect and motionless as a statue when they cast. Others sway to and fro as if they made their body rather than their arms do the work; and others still push themselves forward as they cast, as if they were not sure their fly would reach its destination unless they followed it. These, however, are simple mannerisms. Each may be equally expert—that is, equally successful in placing his fly just where he wants it and just at such distance as he please. My own preference and practice is, a slight sway of the body and a nearly straight backward and forward movement of the line. There are, of course, occasions when a semicircle sweep of the line, or a lateral movement, or an under cast is necessary to reach some desired objective point. All these movements, when they are deemed necessary, will come from experience; but for unobstructed waters I prefer a straight cast, and only such slight motion of the body as will give occasional respite to the arms; for it is no boy's play to so handle a ponderous salmon rod for hours in succession as to give the needed sweep to an eighty-foot line.

The flies used for salmon are more numerous and varied than those used for trout, and quite as uncertain and puzzling to those who use them. I have taken salmon, as I have taken trout, out of the same water within the same hour with flies of directly opposite hues, and of shapes and sizes which were the counterpart of nothing "in the heavens above, in the earth beneath, or in the waters under the earth." There are, however, standard flies which experience has shown to be generally more "taking" than others, and for this sufficient reason are always found in salmon anglers' fly books. But no expert deems any fly or any dozen flies invariably adapted to all waters and all conditions of wind and weather. It is superlative nonsense, therefore, to multiply varieties indefinitely. It is only necessary to have an "assortment," gaudy and sombre, large and small, but plenty of them. It is very unpleasant to run short when you are two or three hundred miles away from "the shop." Those who have had any considerable experience know just what they want, and the only safe thing for the novice to do, when ready to lay in his stock, is to seek advice of someone who knows something of what may be required in the waters to be visited.

And then let him go to the quiet and roaring rivers where salmon congregate, experiment with such flies as he has, lure the fish by his skilful casts, strike quick, fight hard, and be happy.

Albany, Dec. 7th, 1882.

THE SALMON AND TROUT OF ALASKA.

By L. A. Beardslee, Captain D. S. Navy.

F rom the great salmon of the Yukon, to the tiny fingerlings, which in innumerable quantities throng in the various creeks of Alaska, and are as ambitious to seize a single salmon egg as are their larger brethren to appropriate great masses of the same, however illy the bait may cover and disguise the hook which impales it, there is not, I am convinced, an Alaskan fish, which through any merit of its own, is entitled to an introduction to the angling fraternity through the medium of this volume, and to the companionship of the beautiful fac-similes of the flies, which in life they scorned.

From personal observation and collected information, I am prepared to accuse all of the salmon family which are found in Alaska, of the grave offence of utterly ignoring the fly, either as food or plaything, and of depending upon more gross and substantial resources.

They are odd fish, and require peculiar treatment both in catching and discussing. And it is to this cause alone that they are indebted for the honor of being made honorary members of the gallant band of game-fishes of which this volume treats.

I have selected them as the subject of my contribution, because a single glance at the array of well-known names of those who are to be my co-contributors, convinced me that if I wished to present any new, interesting, or valuable facts upon any icthyological subjects within my range, I would have to travel well out of the ordinary tracks, and go prospecting in some "far countree."

This I have done, and I feel confident that I alone of the contributors have been forced by circumstances over which I had no control, into a situation where the obtaining of my notes became pleasure instead of toil.

The notes which will be woven into this paper are not all of them entirely new. Some have entered into a series of letters, which over the signature "Piseco" have appeared in the columns of the Forest and Stream, during 1879-80-81. Through the courtesy of the editor of that journal, I am permitted to again make use of them.

I have preferred a grave charge against the salmon and trout of Alaska; it is but just that I should explain the basis upon which it is founded, and endeavor to establish my claim to be somewhat of an authority on the subject.

From the middle of June, 1879, to the latter part of September, 1880, I, as the commander of the U. S. ship of war Jamestown, was stationed in the Territory of Alaska, with general instructions to restore and preserve order among the incongruous collections of Whites, Creoles, and Indians of which the inhabitants of that forsaken country was composed.

My command was moored in Sitka Harbor, but during the two summers and autumns of my sojourn, my duties called upon me to make frequent trips of from ten to two hundred miles, to various portions of the Territory.

These trips were made in small steamers which I hired, steam launches and boats of the ship,