e open to a few practical hints. There are possibly many
fishermen like myself, who, while not unfamiliar with salt-water
sport with rod and line, still know and fully appreciate the pleasure
of fishing for the fresh-water black bass.

Salt-water fishing is grand sport, but there are many denizens of a
city who have been reared in the districts of fresh-water streams,
lakes and ponds, who have not had the opportunities of cultivating
salt-water sport, and who even when surrounded with every facility
for its pursuit, would still be elated at finding some well-stocked
stream near at hand. Anglers, as a rule, are unable to go far a-field
in search of fresh-water fishing, and for six years past it was a
continual thorn in my flesh, mortifying me considerably, that no
information could be obtained of any good fishing that did not
necessitate an absence of several days.

Last season, entirely by accident, I ran upon a magnificent place
within nineteen miles of New York City. It is a beautiful spot,
easily reached without much expense or trouble and within an hour's
ride by rail. In all my search, this is the one spot I care to
recommend to my readers. Take the cars from Jersey City to Rahway, N.
J., and upon arriving there walk to a small village called Milton,
half a mile west of Rahway; pass through this, continue half a mile
further west, and you will reach Milton Lake. An hour and a half's
time covers the distance. I generally take the one-thirty p. m.
train, and return in the evening; but trains run almost every hour to
and from Rahway.

Milton Lake is a body of water about a mile square, with two outlets,
one falling over a picturesque stone dam twenty feet high into a
stream about ten feet wide; and the other outlet, a small stream
flowing through a mill-gate to the Milton Mills. In each of these
streams there are plenty of bass, but in the lake proper and in the
little brook that flows into the upper end of the lake, they are in
abundance. I pass the lake itself and follow the little stream for
about half a mile until I come to White's Farm. This I have found to
be the finest fishing ground. The stream is about eighteen feet wide
at the narrowest part and from fifty to sixty at its widest. It rises
miles upon miles back in the country somewhere, and runs rippling and
chattering over the shallows, surging silently over the pools until
it empties into the lake. I have never fished higher than White's
Farm, being wel