Lippincott's Magazine, August, 1885

Here at the old dam the mountains close in tightly upon the narrow valley. Log cabins and a few simple frame houses nestle upon diminutive farms; the wild beauty of shoal and eddy, bouldered channel and lake-like stretches of pool, rocky walls and timber-clad peaks, begins to charm the stranger and draw him on and on through scenery as attractive as grand toss of mountains and delve of river can make it.

By dint of poling, pushing, rowing, and pulling, the boats were worked over rapids and pools for almost a score of miles, to where the last rays of the sun slid over a mountain-point and hit Colonel Bangem's hat as it spun in the air by way of welcome, while the prows clove the water of a lovely eddy lying in front of his camp. The meeting was that of old friends, with the addition of a blush from Bess Bangem and its bright reflection from the Professor's face.

Tim Price took the colonel to one side mysteriously, and whispered, "I took keer uv the Perfessor my own self: he guv me a power uv trouble, though. Shell I hitch him now, er let him run loose?"

"We'll turn him loose now, Tim; but if he takes to turning somersets, catch him, loosen his collar, take off his boots, and throw him into the river," was the colonel's sober reply.

Scientists nowadays set up Energy as the ancestor of everything, measure the value of its descendants by the quantity they possess of the family trait, and spend their time in showing how to utilize it for the good of mankind in general. Professor Yarren was an apostle of Energy: it absorbed him, filled him. From the weight of the sun to boiled potatoes, from the spring of a tiger to the jump of a flea, from the might of chemical disembodiment to opening an oyster, he calculated, advised, and dilated upon it. He himself, was the epitome of Energy: in his size he economized space, in his diet he ate for power, not quantity. To him eating and sleeping were Energy's warehousemen; idleness was dry-rot, moth, and mildew; laughing, talking, whistling, singing, somersets, and fishing, never-to-be-neglected and in-constant-use safety-valves. He regarded himself as an assimilator of everything that went into him, be it food, sight, sound, or scent, and his perfection as such in exact ratio to the product he derived from them. So when next morning he said "Come on" to the Doctor, and Colonel Bangem, Mrs. Colonel Bangem, Bess Bangem, and Martha, the mountain-maid, who were all standing in front of the camp rigged for a day's fishing, he meant that one of Energy's safety-valves was ready to blow off, and that further delay might be dangerous to him.

In the Doctor, Energy was stored in bond as it were, subject to duties, and only to be issued on certificate that it was wanted for use and everything ready for it: therefore at the Professor's "Come on" he calmly sat down on a log, filled his pipe, leisurely lighted it, and good-humoredly remarked, "I am confident that one-half of what we call life is spent in undoing what we have done, in lamenting the lack of what we have forgotten, or going back after it: therefore I make it a rule when everything seems ready for a start—especially when going fishing—to sit five minutes in calm communion with my pipe, thinking matters over. It insures against much discomfort from treacherous memories and neglect."

As the Doctor whiffed at his pipe, he inventoried guns, tackle, lunch, hammocks, air-cushions, gigs, frog-spears, and all other necessaries for a day's sport on the river. The result was as he had prophesied,—many things had been omitted. "Now," said he, when the five minutes were up, "we might venture down the bank, which, rest assured, each member of this party will have to climb up again after something left behind."

A motley little fleet awaited the party at the water's edge,—square-ended, flat-bottomed punts, sharp-bowed bateaux, long, graceful, dug-out canoes, and a commodious push-boat, with cabin and awning, whose motive power was poles. Elk River craft are as abundant as the log cabins on its banks, and their pilots are as numerous as the inhabitants. Neither sex nor size is a disqualification, for, excepting the trifling matter of being web-toed, all are provided from birth with water-going properties, and, be it seed-time or harvest, the river has the first claim upon them for all its varied sports and occupations. A shot at mallard, black-head, butter-duck, loon, wild goose, or blue-winged teal, as they follow the river's winds northward in the spring-time, will stop the ploughs furrowing its fertile bottoms as far as its echoes roll around mountain-juts, and cause the hands that held the lines to grasp old-fashioned rifles for a chance at the winged passers. When, later, woodcock seek its margins, gray snipe, kill-deer, mud-hens, and plovers its narrow fens, the scythe will rest in the half-mown field while its wielder "takes a crack at 'em." And when autumn brings thousands of gray squirrels, flocks of wild pigeon and water-fowl, to feed on its mast, no household obligation or out-door profit will keep the natives from shooting, morning, noon, and night.

Some day in the near future a railroad will be built "up Elk," and then, while commerce and civilization will get a lift, the loveliest of rivers will be scarred; her trout-streams, carp-runs, bass-pools, salmon-swirls, deer-licks, bear-dens, partridge-nestles, and pheasant-covers will be overrun by sports-men, her magnificent mountains will be scratched bald-headed by lumbermen, her laughing tributaries will be saddened with saw-dust, and her queer, quaint, original boat-pullers and "seng-diggers" will wear shoes in summer-time and coats in winter, weather-board their log cabins, put glass in the windows and partitions across the one room inside. Woods-meetings will creep into churches, square sousing in the river will degenerate to the gentle baptismal sprinkle; no picnics or barbecues will delight the inhabitants with flying horses and fights, open fireplaces and sparking-benches will give way to stoves and chairs, riding double on horseback, with fair arms not afraid to hold tight against all dangers real or fancied, will be a joy of the past, "bean-stringin's," "apple-parin's," "punkin-clippin's," "sass-bilin's," "sugar-camps," "cabin-raisin's," "log-rollin's," "bluin's," "tar-and-feathering," and "hangin's," will be out-civilized, and the whole country will be spoiled.

"It looks like a good biting morning for bass," said Colonel Bangem, while he was distributing the party properly among the boats. "But, in spite of all signs, bass bite when they please. It is a sunny morning: so use bright spoon-trolls, medium size. If the fish rise freely, twenty-five feet of line is enough to have out on the stern lines; and, as the ladies will use the poles, ten feet of line is enough for them. Don't forget, Mrs. Bangem, to keep your troll spinning just outside the swirl of the oar, and as near the surface of the water as possible. You know you will talk and forget all about it. Now we will start. If we get separated and it grows cloudy, change your trolls for three-inch 'fairy minnows;' and if the wind ripples the water, let out from sixty to eighty feet of line. Take the centre of the river, and you will haul in salmon; for bass will not rise to a troll in the eddies when the water is rough. Salmon will. Tim, take the lead with the Professor, that the other men may see your stroke and course. In trolling, the oarsman has as much to do with the success as the fisherman."

Off they went, three to a boat, the fishers seated in bow and stern, the ladies in front with their fishing-poles, and the oarsman in his proper place, rowing a slow, steady stroke, dipping true and silently just fifty feet from bank, or sedge, or shelf of rock, steering outside of snags and drift and where overhanging trees buried their shadows in the water.

The boats had hardly reached their positions—two on each side of the stream—when a shout from the Professor announced a catch, as hand over hand he cautiously drew in the swerving line or held it taut, as the diving fish sought the rocky bottom or the friendly refuge of a log drift. With unvarying stroke Tim kept his boat in deep water, away from entangling dangers. There was a flash in the air and a jingle of the troll, as a fine bass shot out of the water to shake the barbs from his open mouth; but the hooks held firm, and the taut line foiled the effort to dislodge them. Down came the fish with a splash, to dart for the boat at lightning speed and leap again for life; but this time no jingle of troll announced his game. He leaped ahead to fall upon the line and thus tear the hooks from their hold. Successful fishing depends upon two things,—the presence of fish and knowing more than fish do. At the instant of the fish's leap the Professor slackened his line: down came the bass on a limber loop, defeated in his strategy and wearied by his effort, to be hauled quickly to the boat's side and landed, wriggling and tossing, at Tim Price's feet.

"You've cotched bass afore, Perfesser. You ez up to their ways ez a mus'rat to a mussel, er a kingfisher to a minner," exclaimed Tim admiringly, as he loosened the troll from a two-pound bass. "Hit's p'intedly a pity you're out uv your head 'bout picters."

"Oh, I have one! I have one!—a fish! What kind is it?" screamed Bess Bangem, who was the Professor's companion, as her light trout-pole bent from a sudden tug, and the reel whirred as the line ran off.

"Stop him, hold on to him, wind him in, and I will tell you," answered the Professor, laughing.

Bess was a practised hand, and loved the sport; but, woman-like, she always paused to wonder what she had caught before proceeding to find out.

"It will be the subject of a lecture for you, whatever it is," replied Bess, with a saucy shake of her head, as she wound in the line and guided the playing fish with well-managed pole. Her fine face flushed with the excitement of the run and leap of her prey, as it came nearer and nearer, until Tim slipped the landing-net quietly under it and landed a beauty in the boat.

"Poor fellow! I wonder if I hurt him?" said Bess.

"Not much, if any," remarked the Professor. "I never was a fish, and consequently never was foolish enough to jump at a bunch of hooks; but, as the cartilage of a fish's mouth is almost nerveless, there is but little pain from a hook diet. Bass, salmon, pike, and other gamey fish will often keep on biting after they have been badly hooked."

"So will men," said Bess, as she threw her troll into the water to do fresh duty.

"You're p'intedly keerect," said Tim Price. "I got the sack four times, an' hed right smart mittens, afore I cotched a stayin' holt on my old woman."

Shout after shout waked the mountain-echoes, as fish were held up in triumph, and as the boats glided over the smooth water of the eddy. Ahead was a mass of foam and a long dash of water down a shoal.

"Yere's where me and the colonel catches 'em lively when I pull him," said Martha to the Doctor. "They bite yere ez lively ez a stray pig in a tater-patch. Whoop! I've got him! He pulls like a mule at a hitchin'-rope. Keep your boat head to the current, Alec, an' pull hard, er we'll drift down on him an' I'll lose him. Whoop! May I never! A five-pounder! I'll slit him down the back an' brile him fer breakfast. Whoop! In you come!"

The boatmen pulled hard against the fierce current at the foot of the shoal, crossed and recrossed, circled, and at it again, until a score or more of noble bass were hooked from the swirl, and Colonel Bangem led the way up the rapids. Then the oarsmen leaped into the water and towed the boats through the wild current, until the eddy at the top of it allowed them to take oars again.

"Preacher, kin you paddle?" asked Tim Price of the Professor, as he drained the water from his legs before getting into the boat. "Ef you air a hand at it, take an oar an' paddle a bit astern: there'll be white peerch an' red-hoss lyin' yere at the head uv the shore."

The Professor took an oar and paddled, while Tim Price poised himself in the boat, spear in hand and the long rope from its slender shaft coiled at his feet. He peered intently into the water as the boat moved slowly along. Presently every muscle of him was set: he bent backward for a cast, pointed his spear with steady hands to a spot in the river, and quick as a flash it pierced the water until its ten-foot shaft was seen no more. As quickly was it recovered by Tim's active hands catching the flying line to haul it in; and on its prongs squirmed a monstrous fish of the sucker tribe,—a red-horse,—pinned through and through by his unerring aim.

Shoal and eddy, swirl and silent pool, yielded good sport and harvest, as haunts of bass and salmon were entered and passed, until the inviting mouth of Little Sandy Creek suggested rest for the boatmen and a stroll for the fishers. A neat hotel, clean and well kept for so wild a region, harbors lumbermen, rivermen, and those who love the rod and gun. There are many such attractive centres along the banks of Elk, with charming camping-grounds, where neighboring hospitality abounds, and chickens, eggs, milk, corn, and bacon are abundant and cheap, and the finest bass-and other fishing possible, from Queen's Shoal—four miles away—to the old dam above Charleston. Above Queen's Shoal the region increases in wildness and attractiveness for traveller or sportsman. Trout in plenty find homes in the mountain-tributaries of Upper Elk; deer abound, and all manner of smaller game. Where nature does her best work, man is apt to do but little. Nature farms the Elk country.

Bright moonlight, the early morning after the sun is up, and from a couple of hours after mid-day until the mountain-shadows strike the water in the evening, are the best times to troll for bass. If so minded, they will rise to a fly at such times in the rapids; but no allurement excepting the troll will bring them to the surface in still water. When the river is rising, or the water is clouded with mud or drift, bass scorn all surface-diet; but the live minnow or crawfish, hellgramite or fish-worm, will capture them on trout-line or hook attached to the soul-absorbing bob. A clothes-line wire cable, furnished with well-assorted hooks baited with cotton, dough, and cheese well mixed together, and stretched in eddy-water when the river is muddy, will give fine reward in carp, white perch, catfish, turtles, garfish, and sweet revenge on the bait-stealing guana.

After nooning, lunch, and a quiet loaf, the party sped homeward with the current, handling rods and trolls as salmon and bass demanded lively attention. Shooting a rapid, and out into a deep pool at its foot, the Doctor's boat struck a snag, and he, having a resisting power equal to that of a billiard-ball, put his heels where his head had been, and disappeared under the water, to pop up again instantly, sputtering and spitting, like a jug full of yeast with a corn-cob stopper.

"Oh, Hickey! Whoop!" exclaimed Martha, as she went off in wild screams of laughter. "Kin you swim?" she asked, with the coolness of the mountain-maiden she was.

"No, no," sputtered the Doctor.

"I reckon you'll tow good. Jest gimme your han', an' keep your feet down, an' me an' Alec 'ill tow you ashore to dreen. Hit's like you're purty wet."

He was soon landed by the stalwart Martha and Alec, and, while he attitudinized for draining, the Professor amused himself with taking an instantaneous photograph.

"By gum! he mought hev drownded," said Tim Price to the Professor. "The Doctor hain't a good shape fer towin', but he floats higher than any craft of his length I ever seed on Elk River."

Just as the golden light of evening cast its sheen upon the river the camp-tents came in sight, where a group of natives stood waiting the arrival of the fishers to "hear what luck they'd hed."

Colonel Bangem and Bess carried off equal honors in greatest count,—sixty-two bass and five salmon each. Martha, with her five-pounder, was weight champion. Mrs. Bangem had the only blue pike. The Professor claimed that, besides his twoscore fish, he had illustrations enough for a comic annual; and the Doctor asserted that he knew more about bass than any of them, for he had been down where they lived, and was of the opinion that he had swallowed a couple.

Bess Bangem said to the Professor, as they went up the bank together, "I had a great mind to count you in with my fish, to beat father; but I caught you long ago, so it would not have been fair."

TOBE HODGE.

ON A NOBLE CHARACTER MARRED BY LITTLENESS

As Moscow's splendors trench on narrow lanes,The wonder, brimming every traveller's eyes,To disappointment's sudden darkness wanesAt finding meanness near such grandeur lies.O human city! built on Moscow's plan,Thy great and little touch each other so,Let me forbear, and, as an erring man,Make my approaches wisely, from below,Hasting through all the narrow and the baseBefore I stand where all is high and vast:After the dark, let glory light my face,Thy shining greatness break upon me last.CHARLOTTE FISKE BATES.

THE SCOTTISH CROFTERS

It is hard to dispel the halo which poetry and romance have thrown about the Scottish Highlander and see him simply as he appears in every-day life. And indeed, all fiction aside, there is in his history and character much that is most admirable and noble. On many a terrible battle-field his courage has been unsurpassed. His brave and tireless struggle for existence where both climate and soil are unfriendly is equally worthy of respect. Then, too, his sterling honesty and independence in speech and action and his high moral and religious qualities combine to make him a valuable citizen.

Such considerations account in part for the interest which has been excited in England by the claims of the Scottish crofters. There are, however, other reasons why so much attention has of late been given to their complaints. Their poverty and hardships have long been known in England. The reports made by the Emigration Commissioners in 1841 and by Sir John McNeil a few years later contain accounts of miserably small and unproductive holdings, of wretched hovels for dwellings, of lack of enterprise and interest in making improvements, of curtailment of pasture, of high rents and insecurity of tenure, very similar to those found on the pages of the report of the late Royal Commission. While in this interval the condition of the crofters has but slightly, if at all, improved, there has been a very considerable improvement in the condition of the middle and lower classes of the people in other parts of Scotland and in England. The masses of the people have better houses, better food and clothing, while with the development of the school system and the newspaper press general intelligence has greatly increased. The accounts of the poverty and wretchedness of the crofters now reach the public much more quickly and make a much deeper impression on all classes than they did forty years ago. While these small farmers are not numerous,—there are probably not more than four thousand families in need of relief,—many of their kinsmen elsewhere have acquired wealth and influence and have been able to plead their cause with good effect. In this country "The Scottish Land League" has issued in "The Cry of the Crofter" an eloquent plea for help to carry on the agitation to a successful issue.

Another reason for the increased attention that has lately been given to these claims is found in the rapidly-growing tendency to concede to the landlord fewer and fewer and to the tenant more and more rights in the land. The recent extension of the suffrage, giving votes to nearly two millions of agricultural and other laborers, leads politicians to go as far as possible in favoring new legislation in the interest of tenants and laborers. The crofters' case has therefore come to be of special interest as a part of the general land question which has of late received so much attention from the English press and Parliament, and which is pretty certain to be prominent for several years to come.

Those who are familiar only with the relations existing between landlord and tenant in this country are naturally surprised to find the crofter demanding that his landlord shall (1) give him the use of more land, (2) reduce his rent, (3) pay him on leaving his holding for all his improvements, and (4) not accept in his stead another tenant, even though the latter may be anxious to take the holding at a higher figure or turn him out for any other reason. In addition to all this, the crofters demand that the government shall advance them money to enable them to build suitable houses and improve and stock their farms. An American tenant who should make such demands would be considered insane. No such view of the crofters' claims, however, is taken in England and Scotland.

What, then, are the grounds upon which these extensive claims are based? Why should the crofter claim a right to have his holding enlarged and to have the land at a lower rent than some one else may be willing to pay? The reasons are to be found partly in his history, traditions, and circumstances, and partly in the present tendency of the legislation and discussions relating to the ownership and occupation of land.

Under the old clan system, to which the crofter is accustomed to trace his claims, the land was owned by the chief and clansmen in common, and allotments and reallotments were made from time to time to individual clansmen, each of whom had a right to some portion of the land, while the commons were very extensive. Rent or service was paid to the chief, who had more or less control over the clan lands and often possessed an estate in severalty, with many personal dependants. In many cases the power of the chief was great and tyrannical, and many of the clansmen were in a somewhat servile condition; but the more influential clansmen seem sometimes to have retained permanent possession of their allotments. Long ago sub-letting became common, and hard services were often exacted of the sub-tenants, whose lot was frequently a most unhappy one. The modern cottar, as well as the squatter, had his representative in the dependant of the chief, or clansman, or in the outlaw or vagrant member of another clan who came to build his rude cabin wherever he could find a sheltered and unoccupied spot. No doubt many of the sub-tenants, even where they held originally by base and uncertain services and at the will of their superior, came in time, like the English copyholder, to have a generally-recognized right to the permanent possession of their holdings, while custom tended to fix the character and quantity of their services. The population was not numerous, and it was probably not difficult for every man to secure a plot of land of some sort.

The crofters of to-day have lost for the most part the traditions of the drawbacks and hardships of this ancient system, with its oppressive services, to which many of their ancestors were subject, and have commonly retained only the tradition of the right which every clansman had to some portion of the clan lands. In 1745 the clan organizations were abolished and the chiefs transformed into landlords and invested with the fee-simple of the land. But, while changes were gradually made on some estates in the direction of conformity to the English system, most of the old customary rights of the people continued to be recognized. The tenant was commonly allowed to occupy his holding from year to year without interruption. Money rent gradually took the place of service or rent in kind, but the amount exacted does not seem to have been often increased arbitrarily. The rights of common, which were often of great value, were respected.

The descendants and successors, however, of the old Scotch lairds did not always display the same regard for prescriptive rights and usages. In some cases the extravagance and bankruptcy of the old owners caused the titles to pass to Englishmen, while in others the inheritors of the estates were more and more inclined to insist upon their legal rights and to introduce in the management of their property rules similar to those in use in England. Early in the present century sheep-farming was found to be profitable, and many large areas of glen and mountain were cleared of the greater part of their population and converted into sheep-farms. Many of the mountainous parts of Scotland are of little use for agricultural purposes. Formerly the crofters used large tracts as summer pastures for their small herds of inferior stock. By and by the proprietors found that large droves of better breeds of sheep could be kept on these mountain-pastures. The crofters were too poor to undertake the management of the large sheep-farms into which it was apparently most profitable to divide these mountain-lands, and sheep-farmers from the south became the tenants. By introducing sheep-farming on a large scale the landlords were able, they claimed, to use hundreds of thousands of acres which before were of comparatively little value. The large flocks of sheep could not, however, be kept without having the lower slopes of the mountains on which to winter. It was these slopes that the crofters commonly used for pasture, below which, in the straths and glens, were their holdings and dwellings. The ruins of cottages, or patches of green here and there where cottages stood, mark the sites of many little holdings from which the crofters and their families were turned out many years ago in order to make room for sheep-farms. The proprietors sometimes recognized the rights of these native tenants, and gave them new holdings in exchange for the old ones. The new crofts were often nearer the sea, where the land was less favorable for grazing and where the rights of common were less valuable, but the occupants had better opportunities for supplementing their incomes from the land by fishing and by gathering sea-weed for kelp, from which iodine was made. There were, however, great numbers who were not supplied with new crofts, but turned away from their old homes and left to shift for themselves. Some of these, too poor to go elsewhere, built rude huts wherever they could find a convenient spot, and thus increased the ranks of the squatters. Others were allowed to share the already too small holdings of their more fortunate brethren, while others, again, found their way to the lowlands and cities of the south or to America. The traditions of the hardships and sufferings endured by some of these evicted crofters are still kept alive in the prosperous homes of their children and grandchildren on this side of the Atlantic. The process of clearing off the crofters went on for many years. In 1849 Hugh Miller, in trying to arouse public sentiment against it, declared that, "while the law is banishing its tens for terms of seven and fourteen years,—the penalty of deep-dyed crimes,—irresponsible and infatuated power is banishing its thousands for no crime whatever."