THERE are odd places in and around the waters of New York where the enthusiastic fisherman can find plenty of sport at his favorite pastime. One day, toward the close of September, W. E. Sibley, of this city, an angler of some repute, and a companion, Mr. Del. Ruch, of Clifford’s, Staten Island, set out to troll for striped bass in the Great Kills. After they had trolled for some time, and had landed only a few one and two pounders, the sport grew tame, and Del. Ruch left Sibley’s boat and joined another fisherman to change his luck. Instead of Ruch finding luck it came to Sibley. In a few minutes after Ruch had left, Sibley’s troll was seized, and he found himself struggling with a bass of more than ordinary fight. A lively tussle took place. The fish had no idea of surrendering, and for half an hour the fish and the fisherman had a nip-and-tuck time of it. Finally the bass, wearied and worn out, yielded slowly, and when it was brought alongside of the boat it showed up magnificently. It was a monster. Though conquered, the fish was not captured. A difficulty arose regarding the ways and means about getting it into the boat. There was no gaff-hook handy. Mr. Sibley was perplexed. The thought of losing that bass, when it was so near and yet so far, nearly unnerved him. He was equal to the occasion, however. Holding the line stiff, Sibley ran his hand along the fish, slipped it in beneath the immense gill covering, and lugged the big fellow into the boat after a great effort. When measured and weighed, it lacked just half an inch of three feet, and tipped the scale at eighteen pounds. It is said to be the largest striped bass on record caught within twenty miles of New York.
OUR THEATRICAL PLAYGROUND.
“THE PLAYERS.”
PERHAPS the most notable event in the players’ world, with which the new year was ushered in, was the presentation by Edwin Booth to the organization of leading actors known as “The Players,” of a magnificent club-house in Grammercy Park. As the old year drew to a close there assembled a brilliant audience of players and guests, and at the stroke of twelve Mr. Booth handed over the deed to the property to Mr. Augustin Daly, of “The Players.” Mr. Booth closed his presentation speech in the following happy manner: “Though somewhat past the season, let us now fire the Yule-log, with the request that it be burnt as an offering of ‘love, peace and good-will to The Players.’ While it burns, let us drink from this loving cup, bequeathed by William Warren of loved and honored memory to our no less valued Jefferson, and by him presented to us; from this cup and this souvenir of long ago—my father’s flagon—let us now, beneath his portrait and on the anniversaries of this occupation, drink: To the Players’ Perpetual Prosperity.”
Mr. Daly responded appropriately in behalf of the club, and after a general grasping of hands, all adjourned to feast around the generous board. In every way this new home is most complete, and the decorations are handsome and solid. In the lounging room are two oil paintings by Joseph Jefferson. Beside them hangs Sir Joshua Reynolds’ celebrated portrait of David Garrick. There is also a Gainsborough, and a portrait of John Gilbert by J. Alden Weir. A goodly collection of dramatic literature fills the library on the second floor, Mr. Booth having presented 1,200 volumes, and Mr. Lawrence Barrett 2,000, besides a large number of rare works from Augustin Daly, T. B. Aldrich, Stanford White and others. An excellent maxim is found directly above the great seal of the order, which is inserted in the ornamental brickwork under the mantelpiece. It reads thus:
“Good friends, for friendship’s sake forbeare
To utter what is gossip heare
In social chatt, lest unawares
Thy tongue offende thy fellow-plaiers.”