—wTeeewIegpieret ra? na w poe een Class Bok Ds Copyright N° COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT: “hh, SURE ; “ts Rie’ And the Wilderness Blossomed = Tien « CE TERRA( THE F O ORNER And the Wilderness Blossomed By. - Almon Dexter * Philadelphia H. W. Fisher & Company IgOI i THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, Two Cores Received MAY. 28 1901 CoPYRIGHT ENTRY 44,49o! CLASS Q& XXc. Ne. Copyright, T90I, By H. W. FisHer & COMPANY All rights reserved svecieie ee tN Tog tot e eco ee tee elepn ewe ee 8 ° BG Be e eee e efece € 5 a ba e . a ake eee ele e ar ee e ec fee @ coe ‘eleletanin ; e ete 0% 999 88 eo. 0 «© 0 $ . e Oya rae, ee 7S e1e—e eee co an 6%) G0 Pee Lee e . Che Bee Ce 2 eee oF Fe Sie 8 8 . ee 7 SSR le'e. S68 er 6) F 6S *e¢ ie * e °e UNIVERSITY PRESS + JOHN WILSON AND SON + CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A. TO FERDINAND W. ROEBLING, And the others who have been there. How many goodly creatures are there here! How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world, That has such people in’t! Tempest, Vv. 1. CONTENTS CHAPTER I In THE BEGINNING CHAPTER II Men or Maine CHAPTER III Tue VESTIBULE . CHAPTER IV Some Birps . CHAPTER V FLower Beps CHAPTER VI PERENNIALS AND BIENNIALS vii PaGE 32 61 89 1zO 131 CONTENTS CHAPTER VII ANNUALS CHAPTER VIII SEEDS . PosTrscRIPT Vill PaGE 189 246 272 ILLUSTRATIONS PaGE A Corner oF THE TERRACE . . . . «~ « Frontispiece Tue Oursipe as Ir HappeneD. . . . 2... 7 Pires Pamnuren ts bate. oo /sa 4 ts ae te ee there) ET Sree Cl eA PSE Trai’? hangs SEIS) ed wh hai eae ety LS SEH AMIN LGAWN Re emce | Ree bead Oa TCs 52, fal a, faded cto ee PEO EGEAR-=EROOF: GARE) ..//. 3505s phe, 3 ieee. 236 SemetaennEm Bens!) | 6.9) pel igh eo se Look) x shoo QB betmeemaressOn S CARD 6.000792 aioe) a) NE ie FOG MEE LEMIPACRVW ALBer EIS os hs) oS yal) pe Ste RZ Berens.) HHS: BEGEOM 25) ISN Se ears Sole SESS Pe wUME OR POXGEOVES 0.6 2 (P00 Pe he aaa ee ea Foran anp ‘OrienraL Porpis/ <2 .\0 2°). 9a. Ge 68 ARMOR INVOLUCRATA © 5 5) oe pues ee LRF cI OR PY a oe eI eN al aS wren ce Sade ea) GRO EIR 2 cr Spee ere Ae ge es A 1 Sour BORED PRIMEVAE) 4 !sa. . es) he fine a os 3 RO And the Wilderness Blossomed CHAPTER I IN THE BEGINNING °¢ This is the house that Fack built.’’ q DON’T see why you talk so much about | building a camp at Winnebago,” said Hortense, looking up seriously from her needlework, in reply to some observation of mine on the joys of a lodge in the wilderness. “You know I could not take the children in there; the flies and the mosquitoes would simply eat them up alive. Now, if you would buy that island we see on passing Insley Lake and build a comfortable house on it, I’d take the children there and stay all summer.” “You would!” I exclaimed, and rising from my chair went at once to my desk, and sitting down wrote to my friend Leaf, who had been going fishing in the Insley region for no end of years and knew everybody and everything there. I asked him if he knew anything about this I I AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED island, who owned it, and whether it could be bought. Now, there is no dearer fellow in the world than Theodore Leaf, and he was not only able to answer all my questions satisfactorily, but actually offered to go and see the owners, who lived in Massachusetts, and buy the property in my behalf; and he did it too, and in a brief time the island of Norinamentook was mine, or rather it was the property of Hortense, and the deeds, with careful folding, went into her stock- ing the following Christmas eve. Deeds for real estate in Maine are very small. Talking once with a Maine man about a wharf that had lately been built in an exposed situation on the lake, he remarked that it was “a terrible hard chance over there,” and I think it was “a terrible hard chance” I had undertaken when I proposed to build this comfortable house on an island covered with primeval forest, nearly twenty-five miles from a railroad, and which I had only seen from a distance of two miles across the water. Nevertheless, I resolved to take the chance and see what would come of it. In a way, its very remoteness and wildness was an attraction. I had nature to contend with, to be sure, but I was quite free from the machina- 2 IN THE BEGINNING tions of man; I would have none of his blunders to correct. It was all fresh, new, inspiring. At the outset there is a word to be said as to the locality we had chosen. Insley Lake is the head of a chain of lakes in the State of Maine, at a distance of about twenty miles from the town of Firmins, where a railroad connects the town with the outer world. The stage road, though hilly, is a good solid highway, and in clear weather the drive is an agreeable one, but gener- ally it showers when you drive in or out. Insley Lake is about ten miles long, running nearly east and west. On the eastern shore is the village of Insley; then a small collection of houses with a hotel, a general store, a blacksmith shop, two sawmills, a school, and a church. The island contains about twenty acres, densely covered with forest, and is about two miles from the eastern end of the lake. Near the western end is an- other island known as Megwamantic, quite as wild as its sister isle. On the north shore is Neseghigo Cove, and on the western point of the cove there was at the time I bought the island a small cottage occupied in the summer months by a Dr. Bringhurst from Connecticut. The eastern end of the lake, a portion of the 3 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED northern shore, and a still smaller portion of the southern shore had been partially cleared of timber, and thrifty-looking farm-houses dotted the green slopes. The small hotel in the village was frequented by travelling anglers in the sum- mer months, and almost buried under snow in the winter. Near the western end, at the lake’s outlet, was still another small hotel, and near by was a club-house owned by Boston anglers. Both these hotels were well filled in summer, for the fame of trout-fishing in Insley Lake was wide- spread, and indeed it was the excellence of the fishing that first turned my steps to this part of Maine, and on more than one occasion I had brought wife and children with me. Since start- ing to build my house, I regret to say, I have never had time to go a-fishing, so the reader need not look here for any accounts of great catches of big trout. Insley Lake, named after an early settler, had been known to the Indians as Nikowussoc. Beyond its eastern border rises the highest mountain in this part of Maine, Keespennaden- gog. AA little further north is a smaller conical peak known as Penakadensis, while parallel to the north shore of the lake is a long ridge whose 4 IN THE BEGINNING curiously marked side probably induced the In- dians to name it Psagatsitag. Beyond this latter mountain lies another beautiful sheet of water, Winnebago, on whose shores I had once longed to build my camp. At the western end of Insley Lake rises a beautiful peak known as Moosi- wadchet. The waters of this lake, after passing through the other lakes of the chain, form the well-known Nameskowhegan River, so impor- tant to the manufacturing interests of the State at Fryeburg and other points. The region is a very beautiful one, and at an altitude of about 1700 feet above sea-level one is sure of charming weather throughout the summer, —if anything, generally a little too cool, and absolutely perfect when the papers in Boston, New York, Philadelphia, and other cities are filled with stories of sunstroke and prostrations from the intense heat. Americans make annual pilgrimages to Switzerland, and rave over the beauty of its lake and mountain scenery, oblivi- ous, apparently ignorant, of the fact that our own country furnishes every variety of the picturesque in the superlative degree, compared with anything that can be found in Europe. Three strangers met one night in a anal hotel 5 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED in the West, and one was asked “where are you from?” Drawing himself up proudly, he re- plied, “I am from Virginia, the mother of Presi- dents, the home of chivalry ; and you?” «],” said the second, “am from Kentucky, the region of the blue grass, the home of the fast horse, of beautiful women, and of brave men; and,” he asked, turning to the third, “ where are you from ?” “I,” said the tall, spare man, “am from the garden spot of America.” “ Indeed,” exclaimed the others in a breath, “‘and where, pray, is that?” “ Podunk, Maine,” was the complacent answer. “ Kin I sell you a razor strop?” One only appreciates this anecdote to the full when he knows Insley. So much for the region in which we were to find a new home. The first consideration, of course, was our house; and from the start we had decided to build it ourselves, untrammelled by architects, landscape-gardeners, contractors, and the like useful but annoying artists, who are always so ready with reasons why this or that thing that you most want done cannot be done as you want it done. It always has seemed to 6 GaNaddVfFY LI Sv adISLAg) 4H, IN THE BEGINNING me that architects, when they plan a house, think first of all, and most of all, of how it is going to look from the outside. Now the outside of a house is, after all, mainly for the benefit of the passer-by, while the owner lives on the inside, and very rarely takes the trouble to go outside to view his own building, and after a time scarcely glances at it when he 7s outside. Nat- urally we went to the other extreme, and never thought of the outside at all, but planned the inside so that it should be exactly suited to our needs, and the outside had to fit itself to our requirements. We planned each room separately, and then moved them around until we got them in just the place we wanted them. First of all came the hall, which was to be twenty feet square ; then came two bedrooms, each being eighteen feet square ; then a dining-room, 16 X 20, a bathroom, 6 X 12, a pantry, 718, a kitchen, 16 X 18; and these, with a laundry and: woodshed, made up the first floor. The walls were to be built up but three feet above the second floor, and for the rest followed the slope of the square pitched roof. One thing we determined upon from the outset: the ceilings should all be the same height, so that if a picture was moved from 7 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED one room to another the wire would not have to be altered. Architects delight in getting as many variations in the heights of their ceilings as there are rooms in the house. Sometimes this is dificult, but that only adds to the labors of the architect, and sometimes it is impossible, and then you wi// get two rooms of the same height, but not otherwise. We determined upon an- other innovation also. Each bedroom should have sufficient wall space for the head-board of a bed, and also space for a bureau, which should be near a window, or, if possible, between two windows; and we so arranged the dining-room that a sideboard might be placed against the wall without blocking up either a doorway or a window. Another oddity about this house was that the pantry was to be big enough to hold the china and glassware of an ordinary family and still give plenty of room for a maid, or two if need be, to wash this glass and china when necessary. In the ordinary modern house the parlor may be imposing, and the dining-room even generous in size, but when it comes to such items as the pantry, the bathrooms, the kitchen, the closets, and the like, rooms in which the work of living is carried on, architects begin to 8 IN THE BEGINNING economize space. Nowadays when one gets a new maid she has to be measured to see if she ’ll fit the pantry. A friend of mine had a maid who actually stuck fast in the back stairway and had to be pulled out by the heels. As they could not enlarge the stairway, she resigned, and her place was filled by a new maid two sizes smaller. I know of a palace built for a merchant prince in which the choicest bedroom had abso- lutely no vacant wall space for a bureau, the whole being occupied by an enormous circular window, beautiful to look at, especially from the outside, but of no utility at all in a bedroom. The architect was an artist, of course, or he never could have thought of such a window, so he was able to design a bureau for this particular room. It was practically two bureaus in one, with two mirrors back to back, and it was in- tended to rest in the centre of the circular window, the front of one side being square and the other circular, following the curve of the window. Windows ought to be put in a building for the purpose of giving light to the occupants, but they seem to be generally arranged for the pur- pose of making a building look artistic from the outside. The municipal building of a great city 9 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED has cost more than the Taj Mahal, and there is hardly one room out of the hundreds that it contains in which business can be carried on even at midday without artificial light. If this build- ing were beautiful, one might condone the entire absence of utility in the structure, but every day men of artistic temperament lean up against near-by trolley-poles and weep when they look at it. The mayor has lately ordered the police to compel these people to move on, as they obstruct traffic. Of course in a summer home one must have fireplaces, and fireplaces are of little utility if the smoke escapes into the room instead of going up the chimney. A fire of coals in a grate does not require much of a flue, but when you have a large opening in which you expect to burn great logs of wood, the size of your flue must be ma- terially increased. A large stone fireplace was built in the lounging-room of a city club of which I happen to be a member, and though it cost a couple of thousand dollars, a fire was never built in it but once, and then all the smoke came out into the room, and the members went out of the doors. The architect had not apparently sup- plied any flue at all worth mentioning. For- 10 IN THE BEGINNING tunately for me, about this time I found an essay on chimneys and fireplaces, written a century or more ago by Count Rumford. As the Count knew nothing of coal as a fuel, the dimensions of his chimneys were based on the burning of wood, and made large enough for the purpose. The back of his fireplaces sloped forward, making a narrow opening for the smoke toward the front. This narrow opening extended up for a foot or more, and then dropped back square making a shoulder or shelf. If there is any back draught in such a chimney, the cold air strikes this shoulder and the hot air carries it up again at once, giving it no chance to get into the room and take the smoke with it. This little sketch (Fig. 1) shows the method of construction. Three of our fireplaces were arranged to- gether, back to back, with one Fic. 2. II AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED chimney, but with separate flues. One, the largest, is in a corner of the hall, and next to it is also a corner fireplace in the dining-room, the third being on the side of an adjoining bed- room. This sketch (Fig. 2) explains it. An advantage of this arrangement is that there can be no wood-work behind any of these fireplaces and danger from fire is practically eliminated. None of the timbers of either of the floors or of the roof touch the chimney at all. There is a space be- tween the wood and the brick-work everywhere. Now and then you will find a stairway up which you can walk without appreciable effort. If you will stop and measure the steps on such a flight, you will find that the riser, or elevation of the steps, does not vary much from six inches in height, and that the tread, or width of the step, is about thirteen inches. The average man raises his foot about so high, and advances it each time about so far, and any variation from this compels him to call upon his muscles for extra work with resulting fatigue. It seems to me that this ought to be horn-book law to the architects, and that long ere this the proper dimensions of a stair- case should have been ascertained and reduced to a positive law, to be followed wherever possible. I2 IN THE BEGINNING Yet how seldom it is that one finds a comfortable staircase, either in our private houses or in pub- lic buildings. Measure them, and you will find that the riser is generally from seven to eight inches, and the tread rarely much exceeds ten. In one of the largest of our railroad stations the architect designed the staircase, to be built of enduring stone, so steep that it was a daily oc- currence for people to trip going up, or to fall headlong going down. The accidents were so frequent that the company was forced to build a wooden structure over the expensive stone work, with a proper rise and tread. For such a blunder as this there could be no excuse whatever. The architect had been doing work for the railroad company for years, and had probably designed thousands of staircases, giving him ample oppor- tunity to learn the proper formula for such a structure, and in no event could want of space be urged as an excuse, as the building of the wooden superstructure subsequently proved. When this building was remodelled a few years ago, a new stone stairway was built which went, I think, a little too far to the other extreme, the risers being six inches high, and the treads fifteen and a half broad. While people neither stumble nor fall on 13 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED this stairway, it is somewhat annoying in practical use, the average man being compelled to take a longer step than is natural or else now and then to take a double step on a single tread. Another fre- quent fault in stairways is in building them in curves, and nothing could well be more objection- able, it being necessary in such cases to step carefully on the outer edge of the circle at the constant risk of a dangerous fall. Yet such stair- ways are not only built in private houses, but also are frequently found in public buildings, where peo- ple often congregate in crowds. These winding staircases have before now become veritable death- traps in burning theatres, and their use should be absolutely prohibited by law in any public build- ing, and avoided persistently in any private house. In our dwellings the stairways are almost inva- riably too narrow, rarely exceeding three feet in width, and as a consequence the walls are marred every time a trunk or large piece of furniture is carried up ordown. Three feet and a half should be insisted upon as the minimum width of a stair- case in a private house, and four feet should be secured whenever possible, even if it be at the expense of the parlor. There can be no prettier or more useful feature 14 AVMTIVE] JH J, & pees) & “6 ; . es 7 ‘ D fi a Gis 4 ih By IN THE BEGINNING in a summer home than a hallway two stories high, with a gallery running around the second floor, giving access to the several rooms. Such a room must always be comparatively cool and delightful in warm weather, and with a generous fireplace the ventilation is bound to be of the best. In such a room smoking may be indulged in freely without making the atmosphere dis- agreeable to those who do not indulge in tobacco. I bought the timber for this house in the log, and had it sawed up at the mill in the village. The machinery available was not extensive, but they could plane, tongue, groove, and bead, and make a quarter round, or a scotia. With this help everything else was done on the island, the ‘window-sash only being brought from a distance. The materials all came from the lake shore, and the men who built the house were at times car- penters, farmers, guides, or trappers. I have never seen anywhere a more intelligent, capable, and faithful body of men. I suppose I have had in past years, from time to time, more than a hundred different men in my employ, in all sorts of labor, often under exasperating condi- tions, and yet I have never heard an unkind or quarrelsome word spoken by one to another. 15 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED Some of these men are superb mechanics, the old-fashioned kind, who not only know all branches of their own trade thoroughly, but also much of kindred trades. I brought with me the design of a corner closet to be built in the dining- room, copied after an antique model containing those little diamond panes of glass which are so attractive. I showed the plans to Charlie Barrett, and asked him if he could build it. “I think so,” he said musingly ; “I haven’t any plane to work out those styles, but I guess I could do it.’ He did not appear at the island the next day, and I found out later that he had spent the time in a blacksmith shop making and tempering a plane to correspond with my drawing. That these people should be so skilful in the manage- ment of metals, with actually no training at all, is not less than marvellous to me. I have in my possession a steel hunting-knife of superior qual- ity and finish, made by one of my Maine friends. The blade is worked out of an old file, and the maker had no forge but the kitchen stove; yet I am quite satisfied that I could not buy as good a knife in the trade centres of either America or Europe. During our first summer one of my men came 16 IN THE BEGINNING to me and said: “ Now look here. You’re gettin’ to have quite a lot of guests, and that makes quite a lot of slop, which you don’t use, an’ that’s waste. Now Jerry Oakes has got a hog that ain’t fattenin’ up as fast as he might, an’ so Jerry wants to make a trade with you. He says he’ll weigh the hog now, an’ then send him over to the island, an’ you can feed him on the slop you re wastin’, and when you leave at the end of the season, we ’ll weigh him again, send him back, and Jerry ‘ll pay you six cents for every pound he’s gained. Ain’t that a fair trade?” And the hog came and waxed fat, and the ingenious > Yankee that engineered the “trade”’ got the profits for his perquisites, as he deserved; but that was the first and last hog that ever took up his residence on the island, the profit not being sufficient to induce us to crave the society of his kind again. Generally we have brought our household ser- vants with us, supplementing the number, when necessary, with people from the neighborhood. Every year this has grown more difficult, as from the increasing number of summer visitors there is more work to do in the village and_ possibly greater profit to be gained. Still, we have had 2 jist AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED some most capable people with us in the past. Viola was not to be excelled as a laundress, a waitress, or in general housework. She never had much to say, being fully occupied in doing. Once passing through the hall where she was sweeping, I noticed the rug was covered with some white substance, and therefore asked, “What is that on the rug, Viola?” “ Salt,’ was the laconic answer. “Salt,” I said. “Is that good for the rug?” “Tt is,’ she responded; and the woman that can satisfactorily answer two questions with a total of three syllables is a jewel to be carefully treasured. On another occasion I noticed an ugly brown spot on the lawn, a yard in diameter, near the laundry door, where shortly before had been only velvety green grass; and as Viola was the first person I met after seeing it, I asked, “ Viola, do you know what killed the grass there?” “‘ Hot water,” was her reply. “ Well, who,” I demanded, “was fool enough to pour hot water on the grass?” “I was,” she replied with perfect calmness. Utterly disarmed, I could only weakly re- mark, “Well, I hope you won’t do it again.” 18 IN THE BEGINNING Her quiet “I won’t” ended the interview. Solomon may have been wise for his age and generation, but he was not in the same class with Viola. Additional help was needed in the laundry on one occasion, and Hortense found it after break- fast in a hammock on the laundry porch. “So you have come to help us, have you?” she asked ; “and what is your name?” “ Miss Wilder,” was the response, as she con- tinued swinging. Her reign over the tubs was but a brief one. Of course I am the mildest-mannered of men, and once when a nursemaid of pure Celtic extrac- tion was leaving us, Hortense absolutely refused to give her a recommendation. Out of pure good nature (Hortense declares it was only want of conscience), I gave Nora a certificate that was worthy of framing. In return Nora came to my library to bid me good-by, but totally ignored Hortense. I can see the maiden now, dressed in her very best “afternoon-out” garments, as she stood in the doorway. “* Good-by, Misther Dexter,” she said. “Ye hev always threated me loik th’ gintleman that ye are. There may be them as says ye hev a hoi 19 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED timper, but as f’r me, I can only say I niver saw it.” Hortense always laughs at this and persists in believing that, somehow or other, the remark was not intended to be complimentary. The plumbing about the house was started by a boat engineer assisted by one of the guides, Deck Huntoon, and later Deck became boss plumber. The adaptability of these men is something wonderful. They seem able to turn their hands to any sort of work with the least possible instruction. The plumbing was well done, and we have never been troubled with leaking pipes. At first four kerosene barrels, connected by short pieces of iron pipe, did duty for a tank, and later, when a professional plumber settled in the village, he built us a cedar tank and lined it with copper; but the barrels did very well for several years, and the water, even at first, had no taint of oil. For several years we used the lake water for all purposes, — and most excellent, pure water it was, — pumping it into the tank with a force pump worked by hand. To save labor, I got a hot-air pump at a cost of two or three hundred dollars, but it was little im- provement over hand-power. It pumped little if any faster than the hand pump, and a man still 20 IN THE BEGINNING had to spend his time watching it while it was working, for if he left it alone it was sure to run too fast or too slow, or do something that it ought not to do. As time passed, I became afraid to use the water of the lake for drinking purposes, the population on the shores having greatly increased. I had bought a farm of three hundred acres on the south shore, and I de- termined to bring my water from there by gravity. I dug a well on the hillside about 150 feet above the surface of the lake and pro- posed to run a pipe from it to the island. All my friends told me it could not be done, except Bridgewater, who said it could be done easily. He was an engineer with an international rep- utation, and his opinion comforted me greatly. Unfortunately he failed to tell me how it was to be done so easily, and later when I got well into the job I wished I had thought to ask; but we did it ourselves with no tools at all except a spade, a crowbar, a wrench, an axe, and fifty oil-barrels. The distance across the water was just half a mile, for we had measured it on the ice the winter before we laid the pipe. The bottom was very favor- able, with no steep declivities, running down 21 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED from the island shore gradually to a depth of sixty-three feet and then rising a little more abruptly to the main shore. Our pipe was of galvanized iron, 14 inches in diameter, and came in lengths of about sixteen feet. The ends had to be screwed together, and I felt that this could not be done successfully on a boat constantly kept in motion by the waves, and you never can be sure of calm water on the lake for more than a couple of hours at a time. In the end we put the pipe together in four sections, each about 700 feet long, and these were laid up the hill on the farm shore. They were kept off the ground by poles, pegged down solid, so that they would not move when we started to drag the pipe down the hill. One danger which we did not dare to risk was getting the pipe jammed between rocks on the bottom ; and to avoid the possibility of this, we decided to float the pipe over near the surface. We therefore borrowed all the empty oil barrels we could find in the village, carried them to the farm shore, and tying a piece of rope around each, left three or four feet of it hanging. Then we put a plug in the end of the first section of pipe and waited for a calm day. When it came 22 IN THE BEGINNING we went over in the little steamboat, one man remaining in her with the engineer, to manage the tow line. One man looked after the barrels, another after the pipe, and three men went up the hill to ease the pipe down when we were ready, while I stood on the shore with a megaphone and gave the word of command. The tow line from ‘the boat was fastened to the pipe, an oil barrel tied a little farther up to act as a buoy, and ata word the engine started and the pipe moved easily down the hill. Every few lengths another barrel was fastened to the pipe and the whole moved out into the lake without a hitch. When the end of the first section reached the shore, the boat stopped and the second section was quickly fastened to it with a union joint. Again we started, and the two sections seemed to move as easily as the first alone had done, and so the others followed, and the end of the pipe was safely landed on the island. The floating barrels looked like the corks of a colossal fish-net, quite crooked at first, but a little steady pulling by a couple of stout men soon straightened it out. A few extra lengths were screwed to the island end to allow for the depth of water, and then we cut loose the barrels, one after another, and the pipe 23 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED sank safely to the bottom, having been laid in sixty-three feet of water, half a mile in length, in one hour and twenty-two minutes. In the fall, when we leave the island, the pipe is disconnected at the shore ends and the whole lies safely on the bottom below the possible action of ice or frost. It has worked to perfection for several years past, and water flows freely into our tank, giving us an ample supply at all times. It was a matter of not a little difficulty to turn some acres of woodland into a lawn. Of course I could have cut down all the trees, and with plough and harrow quickly graded it into proper slopes, but I would willingly do anything rather than lose my trees. They were the beauty of the island, and grass and flowers would be a poor exchange for these monarch Birches, Pines, and Spruces. Growing in the thick woods, covered with moss and ferns, the roots of even the largest trees were close to the surface. Cutting out the underbrush let in the sunlight, which killed the ferns and moss, leaving bare the great roots. So earth had to be mounded over them, and, to avoid tearing the roots, the tilling of the soil had to be done slowly with shovel and pick, instead of rapidly with plough and harrow. But it was 24 TREES AND Lawn IN THE BEGINNING worth the trouble, time, and expense to save these grand old trees, which bore traces in every limb of their struggle for existence. Twisted, turned, and crooked, it would be impossible for man to rear them thus if he would. Once I saw John Burroughs standing on the hillside gazing with evident delight upon these gnarled old trunks. He mused awhile, and then his face lit up with a smile, and he nodded his good, gray head, and said quietly, “Yes, they’re classic! That’s it! -Classic!” The first trail from the wharf to the house I spotted on the trees myself, and the men followed with their axes and cleared out the path indicated. Then the stumps were taken out, and plough and harrow levelled off the surface. This was only provisional road-making, of course. We needed earth in every direction to fill hollows, and to cover the roots of trees, and the only place we could get it was from our road-bed. We carted away the good soil and filled the holes we had made with rocks and stones, taken from the spaces we had gone over with pick and shovel, using enough of the underlying gravel to cover these rocks and make a smooth surface for our road. This gravel was what is known as hard pan,—a mixture of 25 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED gravel and clay, which when exposed to the sun became very firm and hard, making with its foundation of stone a most excellent road. It is said that it takes two hundred years of patient care to produce a perfect lawn, and judg- ing from the slow improvement of my own sod, I am almost inclined to believe it. When you attempt to cultivate a piece of land such as that on the island, you will find that much of what you thought was solid earth is in fact largely com- posed of scurf, half-decayed wood, old tree-trunks, and the like. As these decay still further, the surface falls off into hollows, and you are tempted to dig up once more the entire plot, but do not do so. You would lose thereby the effect of work already done, and go back to where you were years before. It is much better to cart fresh earth to the spot, and fill in the hollows, sowing grass-seed on the top. A very consider- able portion of our lawn is in bad condition owing to the quality of the seed which was sown. At first, being ignorant, I presumed the best seed for the lawn must be the mixed lawn-grass seed of the dealers, which they praised, so highly. When the seed developed into plants, I found to my horror that I had nearly a solid mass of what is 26 IN THE BEGINNING called Sheep’s Fescue. Now, Sheep’s Fescue is rather a fine grass which grows in a compact tuft, and in growing, its roots work up high in the centre of this tuft; then, when the lawn-mower passes, it cuts down into the roots in the centre, leaving an ugly, dead, brown spot. It may be that this species of grass is looked upon with approval by sheep, as is suggested by its name, but no animal with a higher degree of intelligence than a sheep would sow such seed on a lawn. Of late years I have bought only pure seed of a single variety, and have found Kentucky Blue- grass the best. Red-top is also good and per- fectly hardy. With either I mix Alsike Clover, which has a beautiful effect on the lawn, and gives a noticeable fragrance to the summer’s breeze. When we came to clear out the underbrush on the island, we found innumerable small trees everywhere. I insisted that the man with the axe should leave one of these young trees stand- ing within at least every ten feet, picking out the best for saving, and in case of doubt, to leave two untouched until I decided their fate myself. Of course, none of the large Birches were to be cut at all. Our principal shade-tree, either 27 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED among the old or young groups, was the Birch, of which we had two species, the Paper, or Canoe Birch, and the Yellow, or Silver Birch. The well-known Rock, or Sugar Maple, is common in this region. A few Elms are also to be found; but as we had none on the island, I transplanted a dozen young trees some years ago, and all lived and are thriving. One of the most beauti- ful of our smaller trees is the Mountain Ash, which grows freely in this part of Maine. In the forest it grows tall, and is apt to be some- what ungainly, but given plenty of space it develops symmetrically and is a most charming feature on the lawn, with its clusters of white blossoms in the spring, and its brilliant bunches of red berries in the fall. A year of profuse bearing is sure to be followed by a season of scarcity ; and when the crop of berries has been remarkably generous, we will often have two successive years with scarcely any fruit. The White Pine once covered Maine with dense for- ests, while now there are but few left in the State. We have, however, about six large trees on the island, and numerous small ones are scattered about in the woods and on the lawn. The Spruce still is present in the forests in consider- 28 IN THE BEGINNING able numbers, but the trunks are rapidly being converted into wood pulp. For structural pur- poses in building, the Spruce has taken the place of the Pine. This tree when small, if given plenty of room, looks well on the lawn, but is not equal to the Balsam Firin my opinion. The inner branches of the Fir die off as the tree grows old, and unless these are carefully pruned away, the tree soon assumes a ragged appearance. It is found everywhere in this part of Maine, and its tender sprouts are eagerly gathered by summer visitors to make into pillows, which preserve their delightful fragrance for years. The best time to gather the balsam tips for this purpose is in June or early in July, when the young sprigs have just started out from the ends of the branches. They are tender and soft then, and, it always seemed to me, of more delicate fragrance than if gathered later. The trunk of the Fir is of little value for timber, as the heart is apt to decay before reach- ing a very large size. An important tree here is the White Cedar, which grows everywhere in moist grounds. It is attractive on the lawn if planted out when small, and all are familiar with it when used for hedges under the name of Arbor Vite. The wood is the most valuable now 29 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED standing in the forests of Maine, being largely used in the building of boats and for shingles. The American Larch, Tamarack, or Hackma- tack, grows in moist lands in this region, and its timber is valuable; the curved trunks from the swamps making excellent knees for large boats. The young tree is handsome, and will grow well even in comparatively dry situations. I have tried a number of other shade-trees, reputed to be hardy, but without much success. A row of Weeping Willows planted at the shore of the lake lived for two or three years, and grew rap- idly, and then an especially severe winter killed them all. All these trees may be successfully transplanted, with proper care. The first necessity is to save as many of the roots as possible; and in this you will find your native hard to manage, for if you leave him to his own devices he will simply thrust a bar under the young tree, and wrench it loose, getting only such roots as may happen to come with the trunk. Maples taken up in this rough way often live, but it will take several years for them to recover after such a rude mauling and show signs of growth. First of all, then, take your tree up carefully, and get with it every pos- 30 IN THE BEGINNING sible root. Before re-planting, trim back the young branches freely, remembering that a branch should be cut back for every broken root. In setting the tree out, let the hole dug for it be of ample size, so that the roots may be spread out to their full extent. See to this carefully, and don’t permit the roots to be doubled back in a bunch. Make the earth snug and firm about the roots, and then if you will keep the soil well moistened for a few days, you will find that your tree will take kindly to its new home. It will be necessary to exercise greater care than ordinary in getting all the roots of Pines, Firs, or Spruces, if you would not lose a large portion of your trees. All these trees may be transplanted in the fall; but the spring is the proper time, just as the buds begin to swell. With ordinary care I find I lose scarcely any trees transplanted in May, while, of those moved in September, fully one half died, not getting well rooted before the ad- vent of cold weather. 31 CHAPTER if MEN OF MAINE “« What a piece of work is man!”? HE late James G. Blaine once asserted that the purest bred of Anglo-Saxons on earth to-day was to be found in northern Maine. ‘This was scarcely an exaggera- tion, for Maine was peopled by the Puritans from Massachusetts Bay, and since then the migration of different races from Europe has swept by ina stream, flowing ever westward, and no Celt, Latin, or Teuton has ever apparently penetrated these wilds with the exception of now and then a French-Canadian from over the northern border, or a Blue-Nose from the eastward; and to-day the blue-eyed, light-haired type of man predomi- nates, — the original Simon-pure Yankee, child of the Pilgrim. A chapter of the Colonial Dames, if it were established here, would be forced to take to its bosom every adult female in Insley, if the tracing of one’s descent from those who founded 32 MEN OF MAINE a nation was the real qualification for member- ship. Many a silk-gowned matron of our cities would give much if she could claim a genealogy showing such a host of colonial celebrities as can that good woman of Insley who gains an honest livelihood at the wash-tub, or by repairing a watch or a clock at odd moments. Of course I know she is not eligible as a Dame; the wash- tub may be at the other end of the line, but not this. ‘“ Kind o’ curious, ain’t it?”’ Both the men and women of Insley show an odd combination of thrift and shiftlessness. One guide, when out of employment, simply sits down in a corner and smokes, while his neighbor chops wood and works in his garden from dawn until dark, and then, lighting a lantern, picks up worms for bait until bedtime. Passing through the vil- lage almost any day in summer, and at almost any hour, you will see a quartet of able-bodied men busily playing croquet, though there may be wood to chop or grass to cut. Like all Yankees, they are keen on a “trade,” and never willingly let a dollar pass by without getting a percentage out of it; yet on one occasion a steamboat-captain, having brought a party to the village from a hotel at the foot of the lake, absolutely refused to take 3 33 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED them back until he had finished a series of games of croquet, and he paid no attention to them, as he saw them prepare to drive back by the road, though this meant a loss of several dollars to his boat. The reverse of this picture is that of a good old farmer who on his death-bed sent for his sons to come that he might bid them good- by, and, after having pressed the hand of each, he sank back wearily on his pillow, murmuring feebly, “ Boys, when I’m gone, you’d better get in that hay ; I reckon it’s goin’ to rain.” Some of the women are tremendous workers and need restraint rather than urging, while others, unless you tell them of each particular thing you wish done, will sit for hours in a rock- ing-chair. If they would read or write or go to bed, I would not mind it, but this everlasting rocking drives me wild. I know of a storekeeper in northern New York who, when asked for “ turkey-red,” replied, “J did keep it, but every one got askin’ for it, and I was always a-gittin’ up to take it down off’n the shelves, so I quit keeping it.’”’ Not so in Insley. Go to the general store and ask for a brass bedstead, a steam whistle, a side-saddle, and half a dozen lobsters, and the telephone, telegraph, 34 MEN OF MAINE and express company will be pressed into service at once, and you may expect to receive any or all of these articles by the next day at the furthest. It has been a common saying amongst us, that if Harry Furbish could not get what you wanted, Charlie Barrett could make it. It is true, too,— absolutely so. I have had the shattered cast-iron legs of a sewing-machine repaired by these people so that the places of fracture could not be seen, a main spring supplied to a watch, and a new can- vas cover, bound with leather, made for a trunk. That these people are “ cute” and “ cunnin’” in a “trade” goes without saying, being Yankees. To them business is a game to be played for all there is in it, and they strive to win as much for the real pleasure of winning as from any motive of gain. Sentiment has no standing at all here in business, and a man will sell his home or his occupation without hesitation, if he thinks he can make a good trade, or with equal readiness will buy out a business of which he at the time knows nothing. Offer the blacksmith “a right smart chance” at a watch, clock, and jewelry establish- ment, and he will take it in a jiffy, and undoubt- edly make a success of it. Deck Huntoon had a fine horse on the island one summer which he 35 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED called “ General.”” Fasten the General to a stump ora rock and yell “ Hike there!” and the obstruction had to come if the harness held. The following year I found a sorry-looking beast on the island in the General’s place. “Why!” I exclaimed, “that’s not the Gen- eral !”’ “No,” said Deck, “I sold the General.” “Sold the General!” I said with surprise. “Why in the world did you do that?” “Well,” drawled Deck, “I calculate that if any man wants anythin’ I’ve got more’n I want it, he’s goin’ to git it.” Notwithstanding an obvious ease of conscience when it comes to a trade, the Maine man is con- spicuously honest. I have known an angler to leave a case of expensive rods on the public wharf for several days, and they were there when he returned, just as he left them, only some one had stood the case under shelter so that it might not be damaged by rain. When our house was being built, I lived in a log cabin alone on the island, and, unprotected by lock or key, kept by me several hundred dollars in small bills and silver, for convenience in paying off the men. I left my camp tenantless for hours in the daytime, 36 FAVS AOOAd -AVTOIAG V ; Al .- 4) hd a 7 — Ae . = 5 v hi 4 + Pe i! MEN OF MAINE and slept there soundly at night, without suffer- ing the loss of a penny or ever having a feeling of uneasiness. Speaking of this to Deck once as something remarkable, his big blue eyes opened wide in astonishment as he asked, “ Why, how is it down your way?” “In the city,” I responded, “I dare not go out of my door without seeing that it is locked behind me, for fear some one may slip in and carry off all he can lay hands on.” “My!” said Deck, shaking his head, “I ’d hate to live in a town like that.” A business man may “fail up,” and compound with his creditors for so much on the dollar, in the regular course of trade, without losing caste among his fellows; nevertheless, by far the greater number of people are frugal and eco- nomical, never spend what they haven’t got, pay their debts in full, and therefore don’t “fail up.” Talking with Aaron Soule once on the expense of living, he remarked, “I tell you, you can’t live and bring up a family on less’n about two hundred and forty dollars a year ;” adding hastily, “ No, not in right good shape.” A thrifty lass is Mary McManus, who makes af AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED a comfortable living caring for the finger-nails of many a fair woman. Calling one day on a client whose father had lately died, she heard a member of the family ask, “ What sha// we do with this piece of bombazine?”’ it having done its solemn duty, hanging by the front door. “Oh, do give it to me!”’ said Mary. “Mercy, child, what would you do with it?” “Oh, I’ll find some use for it,’ answered Mary, evasively. She got it, and taking advantage of a similar opportunity later, from the two she made a most attractive black petticoat, and now goes about her work serenely with those mourning emblems draped about her slim figure. Mary is not a Maine woman, but she could give a Yankee girl points on economy. Maine for half a century past has had a series of laws, of constantly increasing severity, prohibiting the sale of intoxicating liquors within her borders. Yet I have travelled from New Orleans to northern Maine within the space of a few weeks and never saw an intoxicated man until I got north of Portland. I do not know that I ever passed north of Portland without see- ing at least one passenger much the worse for 38 MEN OF MAINE liquor. Once at Lewiston, when the State fair was in session, the car fiJled up with men going home from the fair, of whom quite one half had evidently been drinking too much. A chatty old man of the party who took a seat beside me told me that on the fair grounds there were not less than twenty booths in which liquor was openly sold. ‘That’s our Depity Sheriff,” he said, with a smile, pointing to a big fellow with flushed face and bloodshot eyes, who seemed to be mak- ing for the platform. “Sit down, Jim,” he yelled. “Do ye want yer neck broke?” As Jim sat down, the old man turned to me confid- ingly and whispered, “ About Monday Jim’ll snake in some fellow up our way for sellin’ liq’r.” An investigating committee at Lewiston re- ported that there were not less than fifty places in that city where liquor was being openly sold, and of these fifty the names of not less than thirty-nine of them appeared on the court dockets under indictments in the year 1899, against whom 182 complaints had been made, out of which sixty-nine convictions, followed by fines, were had, only one dealer having been sent to prison. The fines averaged $324, and the committee 39 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED declared that none of these men stopped busi- ness for a day, the bar-tenders continuing to serve liquor while their employers were receiv- ing the sentence of the court. No man need go thirsty in Maine, even though he never touches a drop of water. Order what you will at almost any hotel or restaurant, and the chances are that you will get it, though your champagne may be served in a teapot and your Bass’s ale in a coffee-cup. Tell the first man you meet that you want a drink, and it is quite possible that he will lead you into a side- street, and there extract a whiskey bottle from his capacious pockets. In our forest town there are not less than four men who have taken out United States licenses to sell liquor. This does not give them the right to sell in a State where selling is prohibited, but without such a license the seller has the Federal as well as the State authorities to contend with. Under the law a Deputy Sheriff has the right to visit the office of an express company, and if he simply suspects that a package contains in- toxicating liquor, he has the right to open and examine it. If he finds nothing, he simply closes it up again, while if he finds liquor he takes it 40 MEN OF MAINE into his possession, and notifies the consignee to appear before a magistrate and prove, if he can, that he proposes to make a proper use of it. The magistrate may then, in his discretion, return it, or destroy it, or hold it under advisement in his own cellar. The Maine man will not willingly interfere with the traffic if such interference means a loss to general trade. The large hotels in the cities keep open bar, and the place is raided only often enough to make the fines count as a fair license fee. As a stranger I stood by the clerk’s desk of a city hotel and heard a gentleman complain loudly of the quality of the gin cock-tail served at the hotel bar. “ Front” was summoned and quickly brought the white-aproned bar-tender to the desk, where complaint and answer were volubly gone over in my presence, the bar- tender contending that the true source of com- plaint was that the gentleman only desired a larger measure of gin. ‘“ He wants his cock- the artist declared. There was not the slightest attempt at conceal- ”» tails mixed in a beer-mug, ment of the traffic. The large summer hotels supply liquors of all kinds to their guests, and wine is served at meals in public. To stop this 41 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED would drive visitors elsewhere, and this Maine will not do. Such hotels are not raided as long as the proprietors confine their ministrations to the guests of the hotel and do not sell liquor to the natives. Packages may come, by freight or express, to summer visitors, and though billed as wine or liquor, with even the name of the beverage stamped in bold letters on the box or barrel, the sheriff never sees them. The native has to be more careful, and either has his box consigned to a stranger, or he has an innocent barrel of flour sent to him with a demijohn concealed in the centre. Once this liquor is in the hands of the owner it is promptly consumed, even though the effort reduces him toa state of stupefaction. Beer and other light drinks take up too much room, so that those who crave stimulants of any kind are forced to obtain them in a highly con- centrated form, and whiskey and rum, of a poor quality, are the ordinary beverages. The diffi- culty and delay in getting the liquor, and the danger in keeping it, are such that once in hand it is promptly consumed with the effect of making drunkards of the very men the law was framed to protect, The temptation of the open saloon, 42 MEN OF MAINE with its bright lights and comfortable surround- ings, has never been a factor in Maine life for quite two generations, yet I know of no part of the United States where drunkards are so com- mon, in proportion to population, as in the rural districts of Maine. Looking over a list of divorces granted at a single term of a county court, I found that in four out of seven cases the cause alleged was habitual drunkenness, though all of the parties had been born since Maine had adopted her prohibitory laws. As far as my observation goes, I am con- vinced that prohibition in Maine does not pro- hibit, and though it undoubtedly reduces the number of moderate drinkers, it does not reduce drunkenness, but rather tends to increase it, and I feel quite sure that a wide-spread and persistent violation of any law must have in time a disas- trous effect upon the character of the people of the State. Notwithstanding the evils of intemperance, I am ready to confess to a great fondness, coupled with not a little respect, for ‘‘ Cal,” who for so many years held undisputed claim to the title of “Village Drunkard.” My good opinion of Cal was not gained by reason of his inordinate 43 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED consumption of strong liquor, but in spite of it; for Cal, to tell the truth, was usually drunk, — not stupidly drunk, but brilliantly so; never fighting drunk, but invariably good-natured. Sober, he was quiet and retiring; half-seas-over, he was genial and sociable ; while drunk, he was a genius. In the latter condition he compiled his weekly half-column of local items for the county paper, and.much of it was as amusing as any of the work of newspaper wits with a national reputation. Many years ago Cal walked unsteadily up the village street, and seating himself upon the steps of the little hotel, gazed about him upon the people waiting for the stage. A quiet lad in an armchair caught his eye, and then, gathering himself together for a moment, he broke out with, “ Willie, you’re a good-hearted boy, but you can’t whistle worth a d—n.” Having set- tled Willie, he turned upon the assembled sports- men, and after examining them carefully for a moment, remarked philosophically, “ Well, after all, folks is very much like other people.” Then he discovered me, and said pleasantly, “I believe this is the first time I ever saw Mr. Dexter.” “Ts that so, Cal?”’ I asked. “It’s not the first time I ’ve seen you.” 44 oe ie MEN OF MAINE “Well,” said Cal, “did you ever see me drunk before?” “Yes,” I answered, “‘ I think I have, and I’ve seen you half drunk, and, unless I am mistaken, I ’ve seen you sober.” “Well, maybe you have, and maybe you ’ve got a vivid imagination,” was his parting obser- vation. I recall his announcement for the paper of the arrival of one of the prominent summer visitors on one occasion. It was as follows: “ Dr. Bring- hurst arrived last Tuesday, accompanied by his little dog, Tippy, who during the past winter has acquired seven new diseases.” Here is another item : — “About seven acres on the island have been painted red. This includes the roofs of all of Mr. Dexter’s buildings.” Once a sportsman asked after his wife, to whom Cal was invariably kind and devoted; and he replied cheerfully, ““ Oh, she’s gettin’ so shift- less she won’t even cut the wood.” He was sitting in the store one night with his head in his hands, apparently oblivious to all about him, when the door opened and a stranger entered. ‘“ Howare you, Fuller?’ said some one. 45 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED At that Cal raised his head, looked at the stranger inquiringly and asked unsteadily, “ Are you Fuller?” “Yes,” said the man. “Well,” said Cal, with a benign smile, “if you ’re fuller ’n I am, God help you!” I think Jim Brown could, and would, drink more strong liquor than any man I ever saw, and, no matter how much he took, it never seemed to affect him in the slightest degree, in looks, in gait, or in speech. I never had Jim for a guide, but there were few in the region with wider knowledge of the habits of fish and game. He studied the wind, the weather, and the sea- son, and the sum of them all sent him to a certain spot at a certain hour, and he always got fish. If you supplied him freely with strong drink, you could get the best there was in him, otherwise not. Once starting for a week’s camping trip, the sportsman turned over to Jim a gallon of whiskey, informing him that this was his allow- ance for the week. Before nightfall Jim had taken every drop of the liquor, and left the empty jug beside the trail. Yet all day Jim kept up steadily with the party, with seventy pounds of luggage on his back. Once when in 46 SE MEN OF MAINE camp two sportsmen had a bottle of claret be- tween them, and Jim expected much when his turn at the table came. To his disgust, when his employers had moved to the doorway and Jim was ready to sit down, he found the remain- ing half bottle had been corked up and put back on the shelf. After taking in the full significance of the situation, Jim turned to his fellow-guide and said, “ Billy, do you know, this is the first time in three year I’ve sat down to my dinner without my claret.” While the house was being built, we lived for a time at the little hotel in Insley, and one of the interesting characters of the region, Squire Burke, made the hotel his home. He took great interest in our operations on the island, and one evening while sitting with him in the office, he asked me impressively, — “What, Mr. Dexter, do you propose to do about guests ? ” “Do aboutthem? I hardly understand you.” “Well,” he continued, waving his hand now and then with a peculiar little jerk with which he invariably punctuated his sentences, —‘“‘ Well, I suppose you will have guests at times.” “Yes, I answered, ‘ undoubtedly.” 47 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED “ Well, I should suppose,” said the Squire, “that they would feel more comfortable if they were allowed to bear a part of the expense of keeping up the house.” “] hardly know about that, Squire,” I said with asmile. “I’ve had guests elsewhere, and they never seemed troubled from that cause.” Our first dinner-party was given one day at high noon, to some of our acquaintances at the Insley Lake House, and the Squire was an ap- preciative guest. As he mounted the steps of the hotel on his return, one of the villagers re- marked to the old man: “ Rather a windy day for ye to be out, Squire. Ye hain’t ketched cold, hey ye o”’ “No,” said the Squire, drawing himself up to his full height; “I have been dining, at the Island, and the flushed appearance of my face, comes from the wine, we had at dinner.” That dinner-party was evidently quite an event in the old man’s life, and he talked it all over afterwards with one of the ladies who had been present. | “T got that letter, inviting me to the dinner, and at first I thought it was from Mr. Dexter, but I found out afterwards, it was from Mrs. Pas: MEN OF MAINE Dexter, and a very, remarkable, letter, it was. I will keep that letter ;” andthe Squire paused and mused awhile. Then he asked, “ Did you notice that soup?” Yes, the lady had noticed it. “I have dined, in the past, 1 presume, at some of the best hotels in all New England, and that was very, remarkable, soup. It was good! Then there was that lettis! I couldn’t eat it at first, because I only had a fork, so I asked for a knife. Did you hear me ask for a knife? Well, I asked for a knife, and then I got along first-rate. Now lettis, is not a very good tastin’ vegetable, natur’ly, but this lettis, had a sauce on it, that was good. Then, did you notice those /if-el cups of coffee, and those /z-el spoons? Well, I asked Mrs. Dexter, and she told me, that those it-el spoons, were just made, for those Af-el cups.” The old Squire rests in the graveyard by the brook, and his tall form, with that face so like to Emerson’s, is seen no more upon the village streets. His graceful courtesy and his kindly greetings are but a memory. Peace to thy ashes, gentle Squire! Ned Grant was a famous trapper in the region years ago, and his quaint phrases, slowly drawled 4 49 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED out, were often very amusing. Once going into Winnebago, the road seemed to divide, one trail making off more to the left. We took the right- hand trail, and as one of the wheels of the buck- board mounted a rock as big as a tea-table, I asked Ned where the other trail went. ‘“ Oh,” he said, “that’s the old trail, They abandoned it because it was a leetle mite rough.” Passing a clearing in which there was a dilapi- dated barn and a ruined house, the surrounding land being remarkable solely for the number and size of the rocks on its surface, I asked Ned what had become of the tenant. ‘ Oh, he’s retired,” answered Ned, “made his fortin’ and retired. Ye see that wasn’t hard for him to do, for his farm was good strong land. It had to be strong, or it could n’t ’a’ held up so many big rocks.” Once after a successful day, Ned and I hada pint of champagne together, drinking it out of tin cups, —a horrible profanation. Ned smacked his lips over it and remarked critically: “ That ain’t a bad sort o’ drink. . I should think that ’ud be first-rate to drink at meals instead o’ tea.” Every one who has fished in the Insley region during the past thirty or forty years knows old Richardson. A number of years ago I was down 50 MEN OF MAINE on the lower lakes with a party, and we stayed at a hotel of which he was then the proprietor. In the evening one of my friends was looking over the register, and the old man was peering over his shoulder. Suddenly his long bony finger was stretched out and rested on a name on the page before him. “ What do ye make that out to be?” he asked. “That, said my friend, “why, that’s very plain. It’s ‘W. H. Ramsbottom.’” “* Well, that’s what I thought it were,” said the old man, with a relieved expression. “ But, do you know, all the time he was here I was afraid to call him it, for fear he’d think I was sassin’ him.” Sitting around the camp-fire one night, the conversation turned on odd things to eat, and from the common rat, bird’s nests, and the musk- rat the extreme appeared to be reached with skunks and snakes as a diet; but one of the guides was ready for a deeper plunge, and as- serted in rather a sceptical tone, as if he hardly expected to be believed, that he had heard “ that there ’s places where they eat mushrooms.” There is n’t a kinder-hearted fellow in the region than Frank Philbrick, a good guide, and 51 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED always a faithful workman. He was handling a pick one day on the island when a hornet, who seemed much disturbed, came buzzing about, and Frank made two or three vigorous passes at it with his hat. ‘“ You ben’t afraid of hornets, be you, Frank?” asked Deck Huntoon, who still continued to wield his pick near by. « Al] I mind’s their sting,” said Frank; “I like their looks first-rate.” Driving once through a neighboring village with my friend, the Deputy Sheriff, I asked him what churches they had there. ‘ Two,” said the Deputy. “One is the Congregational, and the other a sort of a Union Chap-el.” “ And what denominations worship there?” “The Universalists, the Unitarians, and the Free Will Baptis’.” “ That’s an interesting combination,” I ob- served. ‘To which body do you belong?” “To none of ’em,” he answered ; “I’m what they call a Christian Baptis’.”’ “ Indeed,” I said, “are there many of your faith up here?” “ No,” he answered solemnly ; “ I am the only one.” I have often wondered how my friend the 52 MEN OF MAINE Deputy ever found out that he was a “ Christian Baptis’.” Many of the words and phrases in common use are of special interest, and some are easily traced to a local birthplace. For instance, many years ago a French-Canadian by the name of Boubier settled in an adjoining township, and the scattered houses thereabout became known as Boubier Town, to be finally corrupted into Boobytown, and the inhabitants are now uni- formly known as Boobies. A guide in the re- gion claims the name of Ex-a-ve-ra, a puzzle at first, but quickly solved when its owner was asked to spell it. The spelling made it Xavier. The mother had read of the Saint and named her boy after him, she and her friends pronouncing it as they would. The waterways running up into ‘the marshes are uniformly referred to as “ logans,” while the little insects that live there in summer and greet you so cordially when you intrude upon them are always spoken of as “ minges,” and the flat, bottom land in the valley is called the “ medder ground.” Now, this is not at all remarkable. It is their mode of pronunciation and it suits them, and that is the end of it. Boston gives herself full liberty in such matters, 53 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED and pray, why not Insley also? The Hub is distinguished for a wonderfully good grocery- store of which Mr. S. S. Pierce was the founder. Now, all the English-speaking world know per- fectly well what the letters P-i-e-r-c-e spell, ex- cept Boston, and she serenely declares that these letters spell Purse. That she may be consistent, she also insists that it was Franklin Purse who was fourteenth President of the United States. Doubtless they carry this to the bitter end, and a business man of Boston is pursed with regret if he misses an opportunity to put money in his pierce. But what do Boston people do with their brows and their lips? Purse them or pierce them? One hard-worked word in Maine is “ trade.” All sorts of buying, selling, exchanging, or, so far as ] can understand, entering into any sort of a contract, is to “ make a trade.” The Deacons of the Church make a trade with the clergyman for his services, and when I told Al Wilbur that Mrs. Landell’s French maid was engaged to be married to one of the guides and that she could not speak a word of English, Al remarked with lively interest, “‘ Well, I don’t see how they made the trade then.” When these men go off into the woods, they 54 MEN OF MAINE carry their luggage in a sack on their backs, and from this they have coined the verb “to sack,” meaning “ to carry.” In its application it is usually confined to comparatively light burdens. Thus I never heard a man say he would sack off a load of rocks, but they do “‘ sack out”’ the underbrush when they take up an armful. One of these men once said to me, “‘ Did you see that little bird? He pulled the fibres out of that door-mat and sacked off all he could carry.” Another Maine man speaking of a stormy night in winter said, “Tt was awfully doin’ outside that night.” I have not dwelt on many expressions peculiar in a large degree to New England as they are familiar to all. Many are not Americanisms, but are survivals of old English expressions, which, disappearing in the old country, have been preserved in the new. An interesting ex- ample of this was noted at the time of the death of Ralph Waldo Emerson. A biographer stated that the Emerson family came to America in 1630 from the Parish of Woodhill, in the valley of the great Ouse. This statement, repeated in the London Atheneum, was challenged by a local historian, who declared that there was no such Parish as Woodhill in the valley. More careful 55 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED research, however, disclosed the fact that in 1630 theré was a Parish of Woodhill, in County Bed- ford, in this valley, but that the name had been gradually contracted until nothing but “ Odell” was left of it, the original name surviving in the traditions of the Emerson family. The Maine man dislikes to receive commands, and is therefore chary about giving them, even when clothed with ample authority, and instead of bidding another to do thus and so, is apt to reduce the command to a question, saying to one, “ Ain’t it pretty nigh time to feed the horse?” or to another, “ How’d it be to try your bar on that far corner?” The Maine man has the American dislike to commands in a superlative degree, and the way they avoid giving direct orders to each other is interesting. There is something in the mountain air, the vastness of the woods, that begets independence and a love of freedom. During the Civil War a couple of stalwart lumbermen came from Potter County, Pennsylvania, to Harrisburg, with the intention of enlisting. Walking out to Camp Curtin, they watched with interest a sergeant drilling a file of troops. As the full import of the scene dawned on their minds, one turned to the other, and said, 56 MEN OF MAINE “Come on, Jim! I’m goin’ home. I’ll billy be d—d if Ill walk in two rows for any man.” It did not, however, take this class of men long to learn the necessity of discipline in an army, and once this lesson was learned, they made the best troops in the world, as was seen in the career of the famous Buck-tail regiment of Pennsyl- vania, and was proved on many a field by the lumbermen of Maine and Wisconsin. It is only fair to add that the most unpleasant experience these men had was when they met face to face the mountaineers of North Carolina. The Maine man is not only chary of his words, but is cautious in his statements. He rarely asserts a fact positively, but is inclined to guess that it may be so, and prefers, indeed, to put a statement in the form of a question, asking another if he does not think or guess that it may beso. This caution of speech was well illustrated on one occasion when my family were moving off from the Insley Hotel, on their way to the island. After watching us a moment a careful woman from Skowhegan turned to a companion and said pleasantly, “‘ Nice people,” and then in a moment, possibly fearing she had been too positive, added quickly, “ As far as we can see.” 57 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED Down on the “ Big Lake” there is a colony of camps presided over by a withered little man by the name of Hewey. One of the Judges of the Supreme Court of Massachusetts came there one season to spend a portion of his vacation, and Hewey showed him to his quarters, a detached log-cabin, which he was to occupy by himself alone. His Honor gazed around doubtfully and seemed somewhat disturbed by his surroundings. “I do not know that I quite like this. It seems very lonely. What would one do, for instance, if one were taken ill at night?” “Oh, that’s all right,” replied Hewey, cheer- fully. “All you ’ve got to do is to come to yer door an’ yell ‘ Hewey ’ like h—1.” It may as well be confessed that Hortense is not a large woman, and her son, as is natural and proper, takes after her. As for myself, I never was remarkable for the robustness of my figure, so that a large and bulgy wife would have been quite inappropriate for me. We went down through the lakes one summer and stopped to inspect these camps. While chatting pleasantly with Hewey, my son passed, and he asked, “’S that your boy ?” “Yes,” Trephed: 58 MEN OF MAINE “Well,” said Hewey, sympathetically, “he’s awful pore, ain’t he?” I acquiesced with a smile, for the adjec- tive only indicated spareness and absence of flesh. “When I saw him last summer,” continued Hewey, “I thought maybe, he wa’n’t well. Thought p’r’aps the region didn’t agree with him, but I guess it’s nat’ral. Hey? That his mother?”’ he asked in a whisper, as Hortense passed ; and to my affirmative answer he replied with a relieved smile, “Oh, well, then, you couldn’t expect much out o’ such a pore couple.” The following year we were down again with a party, my boy not being of the number. As the boat stopped at these camps, we saw Hewey on the wharf, and he greeted us cordially. “ What do you think of my boy this year, Hewey?” I asked. “Why, I don’t see him,” said Hewey, peering about. . “ Here he is,” I said, as I laid my hand on the knee of a young friend of mine who was at that period holding up the dignity of the Yale foot- ball team, with six feet three of stature and some 59 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED two hundred odd pounds of bone and muscle, at left guard, — “ Here he is.” Hewey gazed at him in astonishment for a moment, and then slapping his leg with delight, remarked, “So ’tis. O Lordy! but ye must ’a’ fed him well!” CHAPTER: Ill THE VESTIBULE “© For books are not absolutely dead things.’’ E. decided that the most convenient \) \ place for us to put our book-shelves was in the vestibule, so there the shelves went. And why should they not? Can there be a more cheerful wall-covering than shelves full of books? This passage-way was seven feet wide, and if we had put an ordinary bookcase on either side, we would have found the space much contracted, for an ordinary book- case is fifteen inches wide, though an ordinary book rarely exceeds six. Some of my books were large, so I made the lower shelves ten inches deep, and then, about four feet up, dropped back to six inches in depth. The shelves are immovable. How far apart they should be placed depends upon the character of one’s library. In our case, I found the fol- lowing dimensions convenient. On one half, 61 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED beginning at the bottom, the first shelf was 18 inches above the base shelf, and the other spaces were 11, g4, 83, 83, 8, and 72, and in the other half 11, 103%, 10, 94, 8, 8, and 8. No shelf should be much longer than three feet between supports, for if it is, the shelf will sag in time. There should be no openings behind supports to hide the books from sight. I put no doors at all on these cases, as we have scarcely any dust on the island, and anyway I would rather bear with the dust than be pestered with the doors. When we came to select our books, we con- sulted all those lists of “ A Hundred Best Novels in English,” and the like, and our first purchases were selected from them. Adding to it in after years, we got much that was worthless, all of it highly commended by the reviewers, or insinuat- ingly included in our packages by the too oblig- ing bookseller. In attempting to give a list of books for a summer library I approach the task with becom- ing modesty and cannot hope to please all tastes. None of us would of course make exactly the same list, but in this task I have been materially aided by the friends who have been with us in past years. They have been urged to note on 62 ' : 4 f : ; 3 R ? * THE VESTIBULE the fly leaves their views of the books they read, and thus our lists actually embrace the likings and dislikings of a large number of people, and are not the views of the writer-alone, pos- sibly in some cases not his views at all. It seems to me that first of all we should select books that the average girl or boy, woman or man, will read, generally rejecting those books that every one /as read, unless we believe them to be worth reading again. Onsuch a basis this would be then our I. First CuHoice or Books ror a SUMMER LIBRARY ALLEN, James Lane.— A Kentucky Cardinal; The Reign of Law. Batzac, H. pe.— Le Pére Goriot; Duchesse de Langeais ; Eugénie Grandet. Barr, A. E.— The Bow of Orange Ribbon; Jan Vedder’s Wife; A Border Shepherdess; Friend Olivia. Barriz, JAMES. — The Little Minister ; Sentimental Tommy; Margaret Ogilvy. Besant, W., and Rice, J.— The Chaplain of the Fleet. ; Bydérnson, B. — The Fisher Lassie. Brack, CLEMENTINA.— The Princess Désirée. Biackmorg, R. D,— Lorna Doone. 63 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED BLounDELLE-Burton, J.— The Hispaniola Plate; The Clash of Arms. Browne, C. F.— The Works of Artemus Ward. Butien, F. T. —The Cruise of the Cachalot. Butwer-LyTTon, Sir E.— My Novel. Bunner, H. C.—Short Sixes; Love in Old Clothes. Butter, Sir W. F.— Charles George Gordon; Sir Charles Napier (*‘ Men of Action” Series). Case, G. W. — Old Creole Days; Strong Hearts. Castie, A. & E.— The Pride of Jennico. CHITTENDEN, L. E. — Speeches and Letters of Abraham Lincoln. Criemens, S. L.—Recollections of Joan of Arc; In- nocents Abroad; Following the Equator. Ciopp, Epwarp. — The Story of * Primitive Man” ; The Story of Creation. Cotes, E.— The Story of Sonny Sahib. Cotiins, Witkie.— The Woman in White; The Moonstone. Cooper, J. F.—The Spy; The Last of the Mohi- cans; The Pilot. Corsett, Juttan. — Monk; Sir Francis Drake (‘¢ Men of Action” Series). Crane, STEPHEN. — The Red Badge of Courage. Crawrorp, F. M.— Saracinesca ; A Cigarette Maker’s Romance. Crockett, S$. R.— The Raiders; The Lilac Sun- bonnet; Kit Kennedy. Curtis, GEorce W. — Prue and I. Dana, R. H. — Two Years before the Mast. Detanp, Marcaret. — Old Chester Tales. Dickens, CuHarves. — Pickwick Papers ; David Cop- perfield; A Tale of Two Cities. 64 THE VESTIBULE DisraELi, B. — Coningsby. Dorie, A. C.— The Refugees; The White Com- pany; Micah Clarke; Memoirs and Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. Dumas, A.— The Three Guardsmen; Twenty Years After ; Count of Monte Cristo. Dunne, F. P. — Mr. Dooley in Peace and War. EcGcLeston, GEoRGE C. — Southern Soldier Stories. Exiot, Grorce. — Silas Marner; Adam Bede; Mid- dlemarch. Emerson, R. W.—Essays; Representative Men. FEuILLET, O.— Romance of a Poor Young Man. FreLp, EuGEnE. — Poems of Childhood. FreLtpinc, Henry. — Tom Jones. Fower, Exvren T.— Concerning Isabel Carnaby ; The Farringdons. Freytac, G.— Debit and Credit. Gasoriau, E. — File No. 113. Gautier, T.— Captain Fracasse. GRAHAME, KENNETH. — The Golden Age. Grant, RosBert.— Reflections of a Married Man; Opinions of a Philosopher. Gras, Fétix. — The Reds of the Midi. Green, A. K.— The Leavenworth Case. Hate, E. E.— The Man Without a Country. Harévy, L.— The Abbé Constantine. Harris, J. C. — Uncle Remus. HawtTuHorne, N.— The Scarlet Letter. Hervey, M. H.— Amyas Egerton, Cavalier. Hewett, M.— The Forest Lovers. HockinG, JosepH. — The Birthright. Horr, ANTHony. — The Prisoner of Zenda. 5 65 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED Houmes, O. W.— Elsie Venner. Hornunc, E. W.—lIrralie’s Bushranger; A Bride from the Bush; The Rogue’s March. Howe ts, W. D. — Their Wedding Journey. Huco, Vicror. — Les Misérables. Jackson, H. H.— Ramona; Saxe Holm Stories. Jewett, 5. O.— A Country Doctor; A Native of Winby. KeIGHTLEY, S. R.— The Crimson Sign; Heronford. KINGSLEY, CHARLES.— Westward Ho!; Hypatia. KincsLey, Henry. —Geoffrey Hamlyn. Kipitinc, R.— The Jungle Books; Soldiers Three; Plain Tales from the Hills. Latino, S. — Modern Science and Modern Thought. Le Saceg, A. R. — Gil Blas. Lever, CHARLES, — Charles O’Malley; Harry Lorrequer. Lire. — (Bound Volumes.) Lover, S. — Handy Andy. Lyatt, Sir A.— Warren Hastings (“ Menof Action ” Series). McCtiovup, N.— The Starling. Maruitt, E.— The Old Mam’selle’s petted Marryat, Captain. — Mr. Midshipman Easy; Peter Simple; Japhet in Search of a Father. Martin, E. S$. — A Little Brother of the Rich ; Wind- falls of Observation. Mason, A. E. W.— The Courtship of Morrice Buck- ler; Lawrence Clavering. MeEInuHOLD, J. W.— The Amber Witch. Merriman, H. S.— With Edged Tools; The Sowers. 66 THE VESTIBULE Mitcuett, D. G.—Dream Life; Reveries of a Bachelor. Mircue tt, J. A.— Life’s Fairy Tales. MrircHett, S. Weir. — Hugh Wynne; The Adven- tures of Francois. Moutock, D. M.— John Halifax, Gentleman. “ Noblesse Oblige.” Oxtivant, A. — Bob, Son of Battle. Pace, T. N. —In Ole Virginia. PaRKER, GILBERT. — The Trail of the Sword ; When Valmond came to Pontiac; The Seats of the Mighty ; The Pomp of the Lavilettes. Parr, Mrs. — Dorothy Fox. PemBerton, Max. — The Little Huguenot. Pyrz, Howarp.— The Rose of Paradise; Men of Iron, QuiLtER—Coucu, A. T.— The Splendid Spur ; Dead Man’s Rock. READE, CHARLES. — Peg Woffington. Rirey, J. W.— Rhymes of Childhood. RocueE, J. J. — Her Majesty the King, RusseLL, W. C.— The Wreck of the Grosvenor, Sanp, GEoRGE. — Consuelo. SAINTINE, J. X. B. — Picciola. SaMuELs, S. — From Forecastle to the Cabin. Scott, Str Water. — Ivanhoe; The Bride of Lammermoor; Antiquary; Rob Roy; Waverley; Quentin Durward ; Guy Mannering; Talisman ; Kenilworth. SEAWELL, M, E.—A Virginia Cavalier; Lady Betty Stair; The Loves of the Lady Arabella. SHAKESPEARE, W. — Plays. 67 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED SIENKIEWiIcz, H. — With Fire and Sword; The Del- uge; Pan Michael; Quo Vadis. SPENCER, HERBERT. — Aphorisms (selected by J. R. Gingell). StepMan, E. C.— A Victorian Anthology. STEVENsoN, R. L.— Treasure Island; Kidnapped ; David Balfour; The Master of Ballantrae; The Wrong Box; Saint Ives. Srockton, F. R.— Rudder Grange; The Casting Away of Mrs. Lecks and Mrs. Aleshine. Stowe, H. B.— Uncle Tom’s Cabin. SwiFT, J.— Gulliver’s Travels. Tarkincton, B.— The Gentleman from Indiana; Monsieur Beaucaire. Tuackeray, W. M.— Henry Esmond; Vanity Fair ; The Newcomes; Pendennis; Barry Lyndon. Wattace, Lew.— Ben-Hur. WarREN, SAMUEL.— Ten Thousand a Year. WaterR_oo, S.— The Story of Ab. Watson, Rev. J. — Beside the Bonnie Brier Bush. Wescott, E. N.— David Harum. Weyman, S. J. —A Gentleman of France; The Man in Black. Wituiams, J. L.— The Stolen Story. Witson, Str C.—Lord Clive (“Men of Action” Series). Yeats, S. Levert.— The Chevalier d’Auriac. But the above list of books does not by any means embrace all that we should have. In the country in summer we must have near at hand a few good books on nature, and I have gathered 68 THE VESTIBULE them together here in separate classes for con- venience of reference. II. Out or Door Books. 1. General. Aszsot,T. C. C.— A Naturalist’s Rambles about Home. ALLEN, Grant. — Flashlights on Nature; Falling in Love. BurrouGcHs, JoHn.— Wake-Robin; Winter Sunshine; Birds and Poets; Locusts and Wild Honey; Pepac- ton; Fresh Fields; Signs and Seasons; Riverby ; Squirrels and other Fur Bearers.} Gisson, W. H.— Highways and Byways. Tuoreau, H. D.— The Maine Woods; Walden. Waite, GiLtBert.— The Natural History of Sel- borne. 2. The Garden. Gray, Asa.— School and Field Book of Botany. BaiLey, L. H.— Cyclopedia of American Horticul- ture. Rosinson, W.— The English Flower Garden. Dana, W. S.— How to Know the Wild Flowers. THAXTER, CeLt1a.— An Island Garden. Warner, C. D.— My Summer in a Garden. 1 If any one refuses to buy nine volumes of a single author, then let him get <¢ A Year in the Fields,’’ which is a selection from the essays contained in the volumes named above. If, however, one really loves nature, and therefore John Burroughs, he will get the nine volumes, and “¢ A Year in the Fields”’ also. 69 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED 3. Birds. Coves, ELtiott. — Key to North American Birds. CuHapMaNn, Frank M.— Bird Life; Hand Book of Birds of Eastern North America. Brancuan, N.— Bird Neighbors; Birds that Hunt and are Hunted. Wricut, Maser Oscoop. — Birdcraft. BaskeTT, J. N. — The Story of the Birds. All these are desirable. If a choice is to be made, I commend them in the order given above. 4. Fish. Guntu_er, A. C, L. G.— Introduction to the Study of Fishes. Jorpan and GiLBertT.— Synopsis ot the Fishes of North America. Marsury, Mary Orvis, — Favorite Flies. Norris, THADDEUS. — The American Angler’s Book. Van Dyke, Henry. — Little Rivers; Fisherman’s Luck. Watton and Corton. — The Complete Angler. We ts, H. P.— Fly Rods and Fly Tackle. Yate et al. — The Out-of-Door Library — Angling. 5. Shooting. Caton, J. D. — The Antelope and Deer of America. Mayer, A. M. (Editor). — Sport with Rod and Gun. SETON-THompson. — Wild Animals I have Known; Biography of a Grizzly ; The Trail of the Sandhill Stag. 7O THE VESTIBULE Equally indispensable is the children’s corner on the shelves. In the lists already given there are many books that will interest young people, and the sooner they are introduced to them the better. I remember when my own boy was passing through the inevitable “Henty” age I handed him the “ Hoggarty Diamond.” He read it, and as he handed it back to me, asked reproachfully, ““Why didn’t you give me that before?” Practically the following list is in- tended for a childless family, but a family that loves children, and now and then welcomes the little ones to its circle. With these books you will have something to give quite as wholesome as doughnuts and lemonade. The family with children will have to add to this little library books varying in character according to the age of the youngsters, but in any case this list will prove, I hope, useful as a foundation for III. THe Cuitpren’s Liprary. Esop’s Fables. Atcott, L. M.— Little Women; Little Men. ANDERSEN, H. C. — Fairy Tales. Barnes, James. — For King or Country ; Midshipman Farragut. Bepe, CurHsert. — Verdant Green. 71 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED Be.tiew, F, P. W.—Chip’s Dogs. Brooks, E. S.— Chivalric Days. Burnett, F. H. — Little Lord Fauntleroy. Busco, W.— Max and Maurice. CarroLi, Lewis. — Alice’s Adventures in Wonder- land. Criemens, S. L.— Tom Sawyer; Huckleberry Finn. Cooince, Susan. — What Katy Did. Cox, Parmer. — The Brownies: Their Book. DeFoer, Danrte.. — Robinson Crusoe, Frost, A. B. — The Bull Calf. Grimm’s Household Stories. HABBERTON, JoHN. — Helen’s Babies. Hucues, IT.— Tom Brown’s School Days; Tom Brown at Oxford. Kempse, E. W.— The Billy-Goat. Lanc, ANDREW. — The Blue, Red, Green, and Yellow Fairy-Books. NEWELL, P. S.— Topsy’s and Turvy’s. Pyite, Howarp. — The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood; Otto of the Silverhand. Raspe, R. E.— Baron Munchausen. SEAWELL, M. E. — Little Jarvis. Slovenly Peter. (No family can be properly brought up without ‘‘ Slovenly Peter.’’) Wysz, JoHann Davip.— The Swiss Family Rob- inson. A few good books of reference are necessary, of course, and all of the following will be found useful. If you have the Century Dictionary, you will not need Worcester, and while Allibone 72 THE VESTIBULE is desirable it is not essential in such a library as this. IV. Booxs or REFERENCE. Jounson’s Encyclopedia. Century Dictionary. WorcesTER’s Dictionary. Atlas of the World. TxHomas’s Dictionary of Biography. WHEELER’s Familiar Allusions. Av.izone’s Dictionary of Authors. To these four essential lists of books I append the following so-called “ classics” which are uni- formly commended by almost all lovers of good literature. Select from it what you will, but I would put none of these books in a summer library, because I feel assured from experience that few of them would ever be read. Those that are of real interest have been read already by most, if not all, of your friends, while the others will continue to be left alone, notwithstanding the weight of authority in favor of them. V. C.assics. ANDERSEN, H. C.— The Improvisatore. AvERBACH, B.— On the Heights. AusTEN, JANE. — Pride and Prejudice ; Sense and Sensi- bility. 73 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED Beckrorp, W.— Vathek. BronTE, CHARLOTTE. — Jane Eyre. Brown, C. B. — Arthur Mervin. Browninc, Rospert. — Poems. Bunyan, Joun. — Pilgrim’s Progress. Burns, Ropert. — Poems. Cervantes, M.— Don Quixote. (To me the saddest book in all literature.) De Quincey, THomas.— Confessions of an Opium Eater. De Start, Mme, — Corinne. FirzGERaLp, E.— Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. FouquE, La Morre.— Undine. GaskELL, E. C.— Cranford. GorTHE, J. W.— Wilhelm Meister’s Apprentice- ship. Go.psmiTH, O.— Vicar of Wakefield. (Mr. Clem- ens heartily commends one ship’s library because it did mot contain this book.) GrEviLLeE, H.— Dosia; Sonia. JoHNnson, SAMUEL. — Rasselas. Jupp, Syivesrer. — Margaret. A Kempis, THomas. — The Imitation of Christ. KENNEDY, J. P.— Horseshoe Robinson. LamarTINE, A. DE.— Graziella. Lams, CuHar.es. — Essays of Elia; Tales from Shake- speare. LoncFELLow, H. W.— Hyperion. Manzoni, A. — The Betrothed Lovers. MetvitteE, H.— Omoo; Typee. Mitton, JoHn. — Paradise Lost. Por, E. A.— Poems. Ruskin, JoHN. — Selections. 74 THE VESTIBULE SAINTE-PIERRE, B. pE.— Paul and Virginia. Scort, M. — The Cruise of the Midge; Tom Cringle’s Log. SHEPPARD, E. S.— Charles Auchester. Smo.tieTT, T. G.— Humphrey Clinker. Souvestre, E.— An Attic Philosopher in Paris. Tennyson, ALFRED. — Poems. Toxrstroy. — Anna Karénina. TurcEneEv, I. S. — Smoke. Ware, W.-— Zenobia. Werner, E.—She fell in Love with her Husband. (Good Luck.) WintuHrop, T.— John Brent. To the foregoing lists I add a further selection of books which I would buy having both space and money. VI. SEconp Cuorce oF Books. AtpricuH, T. B.— The Story of a Bad Boy. Bancs, J. K.— The House-Boat on the Styx; Paste Jewels. Beti, Littian.— Love Affairs of an Old Maid. Burnett, F, H.—A Fair Barbarian; In Connection with the De Willoughby Claim. Butter, W. A.— Mrs. Limber’s Raffle. Caine, Haryi.—Capt’n Davy’s Honeymoon, Catvertey, C. S,— Verses and Fly Leaves. Cuampsers, R. W.— The Red Republic. CHoitmonpELey, Mary. — Red Pottage. CHURCHILL, WINsToN. — Richard Carvel. 75 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED Coretit, M.— Thelma; Romance of Two Worlds. Davis, Repecca B. Harpinec. — Silhouettes of Ameri- can Life. Davis, Ricoarp H.— Van Bibber; Gallegher. Dickson, Harris, — The Black Wolf’s Breed. Demo.ins, E.— Anglo-Saxon Superiority. Ewinc, J. H. — Jackanapes; A Flat-Iron for a Far- thing. Farconer. — M’lle Ixe. Freperic, H.— The Damnation of Theron Ware. Grascow, ELLen. — The Voice of the People. Grant, Rosert. —A Bachelor’s Christmas. Ha.isurton, T. C. — Sam Slick. Hampsien, H. E.— On many Seas. Harte, B.— The Luck of Roaring Camp. Hornuno, E. W.— Young Blood; Dead Men Tell no Tales. Hyne, C. W.— The Adventures of Captain Kettle. Janvier, T, A.— The Uncle of an Angel. KEIGHTLEY, S. R.— The Cavaliers; The Silver Cross; The Last Recruit of Clare’s. Kinc, Ben. — Verse. Kinc, Caprain CuHar.es. — The Colonel’s Daughter. Lya.t, E,— Donovan. Masiz, H. W.— Essays on Books and Culture. Macruper, Jutia. — Princess Sonia. Mayor, C.— When Knighthood was in Flower. MatTHeEws, BRANDER.— The Royal Marine. MEREDITH, Owen. — Lucile. Pace, T. N. — Santa Claus’s Partner. PueEtps, E. S.—A Singular Life. PHILLPOTTs, EpEen. — Children of the Mist. QuiLier-Coucu, A. T.— Adventurers in Criticism. 76 THE VESTIBULE READE, CHar es. — Love me Little, Love me Long ; Never too Late to Mend. Ripce, W. P.—A Clever Wife; Secretary to Bayne, 1 a Sace, W. — Robert Tournay. SaAINTSBURY, GEORGE. — Corrected Impressions. ScHREINER, Oxive.— The Story of an African Farm. Stosson, A. T.— Seven Dreamers. STEPHENS, R. N. —An Enemy to the King. Stockton, F. R.— The Lady or the Tiger; The Christmas Wreck; The Adventures of Captain Horn; The Girl at Cobhurst. Stuart, R. McE.— The Golden Wedding ; Carlotta’s Intended; Solomon Crow’s Christmas Pocket ; Sonny. Taytor, M. I, — On the Red Staircase. THANET, Octave. — Stories of a Western Town; A Missionary Sheriff. VERNE, JuLEs. — Around the World in Eighty Days; Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea; The Mysterious Island ; Michael Strogoff. Warp, H.— History of David Grieve. Weymaw, S. J.— Under the Red Robe; Sophia. Wuarton, Epiru. — The Greater Inclination. Waite ey, I. N.— The Falcon of Langéac. Wuirteinca, R. — No. 5, John Street. Wiccan, K. D.— Timothy’s Quest. Witkins, M. E.— A Humble Romance. In reading the frank criticisms of some of our readers, as recorded on the fly leaves, I have been often surprised, and always amused, at the 77 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED way they have frequently disagreed with the verdict of the critics, and are at times also quite at variance with the estimate of the general pub- lic, if enormous sales be an indication. Here, then, are a few books upon which some people have positive views, with no advertising space to sell. A.ttan, James Lane. — The Choir Invisible. One critic writes briefly, ‘‘ Very able;” while another says, “T can’t agree with you. If this book has one merit, it has escaped my careful search. ‘The scenery is as unreal as that on the stage of a theatre. The people are manikins, who play the fool without reason. The hero is a chump, and the heroine an impossible doll. Amy, the other woman, is coarse, vulgar, and slatternly, and yet the book has been compared to Esmond!” Barinc-GouLp. — The Broom Squire. ‘* The events described in this story may be possible in England and amongst English men and women, but would not be possible in America. A most unpleasant story of brutal people.” BLouNDELLE-BurtTon. — Across the Salt Seas. ‘ In- teresting in the main, but marred by its impossibility. What sane man would dream of going over-land to Flanders, after Vigo, when the ‘Salt seas’ were open to him?” Brapy, C. T.—For the Freedom of the Sea. “Readable, but it makes one long to be profane in thinking of the English of 1812.” CasTLeE, E.— Young April. ‘In the main an in- 78 THE VESTIBULE teresting story. Here and there it drags a bit and is dull.” CastLE, E.— The Light of Scarthey. ‘ An absurd story without one sane character in the book.” CrockeTT, S. R.— Joan of the Swordhand. ‘“ Just a story, and by no means a good one.” The Black Douglas. ‘‘ Simply horrible! With this book Mr. Crockett and I part company.” Daupet, A.—Fromont, Jr.,and Risler, Sr. ‘¢ Char- acteristically French. Unpleasant, but readable. Clever, but neither great nor proper.” Ezers, Georc.— Uarda. ‘Very dull at first, with more of interest in the latter half. A historical romance of the time of Moses, not quite successful either as history or romance.” Forp, P. L.—The Great K. and A. Robbery. “‘ Quite impossible, but fairly entertaining.” The Honorable Peter Stirling. ‘ Amateur- ish. The love making between Peter and Leonore is nauseating.” Janice Meredith. ‘An utterly worthless book. A man might resign from the British army and em- igrate to distant lands because he did not approve of his mother’s conduct, but with plenty of money at his command, he would zot sell himself as a slave. Again, George Washington never had on his staff an officer who was fool enough or knave enough to announce in a dark stable, within the enemy’s lines, to the daughter of a Tory, that his superior officer was sleeping in an exposed place and might easily be captured. The heroine, Janice, is an insufferable piece of baggage, that every man apparently, for some unknown reason, wants to marry, and she at times is evidently ready to 79 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED marry any or all of them. By the most clumsy and inartistic methods the author carries his heroine across country so as to make her present at nearly every engagement of the Revolutionary War, Bunker Hill being almost the only prominent exception. We are duly grateful to Mr. Ford, however, for not putting Janice in the hold of one or another of the vessels in Paul Jones’ famous sea-fight.” Gras, F£t1x.— The Reds of the Midi. ‘A first- rate story, well told.” The Terror, ‘Interesting, but at times it drags. Would have been improved by the slaughter of little Clairet, early in the story.” The White Terror. ‘I for one have had enough of these Frenchmen. All fools or knaves by the testimony of their own people; and the book is dull.” GILBERT, W. S.— Songs of a Savoyard, and The Bab Ballads. ‘* Very depressing.” Horrt, ANTHONY.— The King’s Mirror. “I did not suppose that Anthony Hope could write a dull book, but he can.” Jounston, Mary.— Prisoners of Hope. ‘Should have been bound in paper and sold for five cents, for messenger boys to read. Absurd all the way through.” To Have and to Hold. “ Another worthless dime novel, sold for a dollar and a half. Appeared as a serial in the ‘ Atlantic,’ and selling by the hundreds of thousands. It’s amazing!” Joxar, M.—A Hungarian Nabob. ‘‘ Jokai is said to be great, and this the greatest of his novels. If this be so, I have had enough of Jokai.” KEIGHTLEY, S. R.—The Cavaliers. ‘*A good 80 on THE VESTIBULE story, but in the name of peace and quietness, how many bands were there who tried to save Charles I., and in how many different ways was it to be done?” MarcueEritTTE, P. and V.—The Disaster. ‘* Not only dull, but absolutely unreadable. Are all French- men mad? Their writers never seem to tire of trying to prove it.” Mason and Lanc. — Parson Kelly. ‘‘ Mr. Mason did much better work alone.” MowncrirFrF, F.— The X Jewel. ‘‘A most incon- sequential attempt at a romance. You finish won- dering what in the world the author has been trying to do.” Munro, Nett. — John Splendid. ‘‘A Scotch story with the descriptions as well as the conversations in dialect. Think of it! ‘No thruadh!’ but fortune was a ‘dour jade’ when this ‘sculduddry tale’ was put in my ‘silvered loof” It is ‘a long strath’ and ‘stoury marching,’ more than a ‘ meridian daunder,’ through its pages, and oh! but ‘it is heartsome,’ here at the ‘ cruisie light’ of my ‘tack house’ (‘a trig little edifice, not a bigging, but snugly thacked and windowed,’ in a ‘ pleas- ance walled by whin’), to feel that I have emptied the author’s ‘girnel and toomed his last basin.’? Let this be a ‘ prickle at the skin’ of those who would follow after ; let them know that ‘here is drool, and the smell of mort cloth,’ ‘a smittal plague ;’ though I am willing to acknowledge at the same time that ‘I never heard that a put on gant was smittal,’ for every one knows that if a gant was at all smittal it could not be put on. “Tam neither ‘ pernicketty’ nor ‘ perjink’ about my summer reading, but you may notch it on the ‘ yett’ that though the author be a ‘ gleg man’ and ‘ have repu- 6 81 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED tation among the snoods,’ yet ‘in his eld’ he will not only look back upon this story ‘ pawkily,” but still realize that he has been wandering ‘on the wrong airt,’ and that ’t would have been money in his purse had he ‘dighted his blade’ and ‘ swithered for a moment,’ with ‘dour-set jaw,’ and then burned or translated his manu- script. Some day he will sound his own ‘coranach’ for this book, his tears will fall not in a ‘ smirr,’ but in ‘runnels’ on his ‘sark,’ his locks will be ‘towsy,’ and he’ll have ‘the slouch of the grangel,’ as he sits in his ‘byre’ and reflects. There are, to be sure, some charming touches in the story, as where we read of the ‘braes and corries in Argyle that whisper silken to the winds with juicy grasses,’ ‘among the bog-flower and the connoch,’ where a ‘space-wife’ and ‘ladies with broidery and camisole and washen faces,’ witness the “tinker’s death in the sheuch,’ while the ‘winds blew snell,’ and there was heard ‘the snorting low of the stirk.’ “The beauty of the scene is qualified by the fact that ‘only in its season the cannoch tuft, and that itself but sparsely ; the sturdy gall itself finds no nourishment here,’ which will be a surprise to most of us, as it has hitherto been supposed that ‘ sturdy gall’ found nourish- ment in all Scotland. “This story may be ‘snod,’ but the ‘ dule of it’ all is that it is ‘tapsilteerie’ to a degree, and, at the best, has no ‘swither’ about it. Of course, in ‘ Lochow of the bosky isles and holy,’ where ‘a scent of wet birk was in the wind,’ and ‘the river glucked and chattered and plopped most gaily,’ one is not surprised to learn that ‘the fluff of the wing was heard’ as ‘the londubh parted his beak of gold,’ the ‘ howlets mourned ’ and the crows Called with ‘roupy voices.’ 82 THE VESTIBULE “¢ At times our author philosophizes; as witness the following : — “¢¢ For ordinary our women keen but when they are up in years and without the flowers of the cheek that the salt tear renders ugly ; women who have had good practice with grief, who are so far off from the fore- world of childhood where heaven is about the dubs of the door and they find something of a dismal pleasure in making wails for a penny or two or a cogie of sol- dier’s brose.’ It seems to me that ‘a cogie of soldier’s brose’ is enough to make anybody wail. * But think of this: “¢To walk by a lake and hear grief’s chant upon neighboring isles is the chief of the Hundred Dolours,’ This sentence may be a bit obscure, but then obscur- ity is the spice of Scotch literature. “There is some feeding and more of starving in the tale. Once ‘the straw was burned to dry the grain, the breeze win’d it, the quern ground it, the fire cooked the bannocks of it,’ yet, after all, the hero in winter weather with bare legs and but scanty covering else- where, was compelled to eat his ‘chack’ in default of ‘bolls of meal.’ On one occasion John Splendid find- ing a ‘ yeld hind’ ‘despatched and gralloched it with his sigan bubh in a twinkling,’ which is interesting, but not surprising, as even a brachiopod might be expected to yell at least once before being gralloched with a sigan bubh. “The author tells us also of ‘the profound gorges of Stob Dubh belching full to the throat with animus,’ which will be news to most of us, for while we know Scotland to be fairly full of animus, we did not dream it 83 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED was as full as that. Yet if the gorges of Stob Dubh are as profound as the author hints, why don’t they control their animus instead of belching it? “This book may or may not be ‘ umquahile,’ but if any one would ‘ homologate’ this estimate of its beauties let him ‘belt in his breeks,’ ‘pull up his hosen,’ seat himself in his ‘ chair-haffit,’ and read the book for him- self.” PEMBERTON, Max.— Queen of the Jesters. “An odd book which it is possible to read.” The Phantom Army. ‘ Not much of a story.” Kronstadt. “I think I am about through with Mr. Pemberton’s stories.” The Impregnable City. ‘ Utter folly. Not a trace of either wit or wisdom.” RuoscomyL, O.—For the White Rose of Arno. “Very poor.” Stimson, F. J. S.— King Noonett. ‘Only a fair sort of story.” Pirate Gold. ‘Not worth reading.” Taytor, M. I.—A Yankee Volunteer. ‘ Rather thin in spots.” Warner, Susan. — The Wide Wide World. “An extraordinary book, based upon an analytical synopsis of lamentations. Miss Warner is evidently impressed with the fact that this ‘ Wide, Wide World’ is ‘ but a vale of tears.’ The heroine, Ellen Montgomery, was but a child; but she shows a precocious genius in giving vent to her woe. Mark the variety of her lachrymations which for convenience of comparison are arranged alphabetically. 84 THE VESTIBULE “Ellen ‘almost shrieked,’ ‘answered with another gush of tears,’ and her ‘ agitation was excessive.’ ‘She ‘began weeping again,’ and ‘ broke forth in an agony of tears.’ She ‘burst’ on twelve different occa- sions, nine times ‘into tears,’ and once each into ‘an agony of tears, ‘another fit of sorrow’ and ‘un- controllable weeping.” Once she ‘almost burst into tears,’ and on another occasion ‘a burst of tears re- lieved her.’ “She ‘could not help shedding some tears’ and she “covered her face with her hands and sobbed out.’ ‘She cried’ without qualification, and also ‘a great while, ‘as if her very heart would break, ‘as if she had never cried before,’ ¢ bitterly,’ ‘ heartily,’ ‘ heartily again,’ ¢ very heartily,’ ‘ for joy’ and ‘ over her letter.’ Also she ‘ had been crying,’ ‘had had a good cry,’ and ‘ Pilgrim’s Progress made her sometimes cry.’ “She ‘drew long, sobbing sighs,’ and something or other ‘drew streams of tears down her cheeks.’ “Her eyes ‘filled’ (twice), ‘ filled fast again,’ ‘ filled with tears,’ ‘shone through tears,’ ‘ watered’ (thrice), ‘ were gathering tears very fast,’ ‘ were glistening,’ ¢ moist- ening, ‘red,’ ‘swimming,’ and ‘ watering,’ while her ‘ eyelashes were wet’ but twice. “She ‘fell upon her knees ina perfect agony of weeping ” and ‘ flung herself on the ground to let sorrow have full sway.’ “« She gave way to a ‘burst of tears,’ ‘a good bit of crying, ‘an overwhelming burst of sorrow,’ and ‘a violent burst of grief.’ “She ‘hid her face in the towel to cry instead of 85 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED making the ordinary use of it,’ and through it all ‘joy kept company with bitter weeping.’ “She ‘ mingled bitter tears with eager prayers,’ was ‘moved even to tears,’ while something or other ‘ opened the sluices of her eyes.’ “She ‘poured forth her whole heart in prayers and tears” and ‘ quivered from head to foot with convulsive sobs.’ ‘She ‘spent a good part of the afternoon in crying,’ ‘silence was only broken by her sobs,’ and she ‘ shed bitter tears now andthen.’ She ‘sobbed,’ ‘ sobbed more gently? and ‘sobbed aloud and even screamed,’ ‘ her sobs went nigh to choke her,’ and ‘solitude saw many a tear of hers that week.’ “She ‘threw herself on the floor ina passion of grief,’ while something ‘threw her back into fresh fits of tears.’ “Her ‘tears almost choked her,’ ‘began to drop again, ‘brought no relief, ‘came faster than her words,” ‘ dropped into the water,’ ‘ fell faster,’ ‘ fell from the eyes,’ ‘ fell much too fast for eyes to do their work,’ ‘ flowed,’ ‘flowed faster than ever,’ ‘ followed in a flood,’ ‘gushed forth,’ ‘had to be wiped away,’ ‘ kept coming all the time,’ ‘knew no measure,’ ‘ mingled,’ ‘ poured,’ ‘ran down her cheeks,’ ‘ ran down her face and frock,’ ‘ran fast again,’ ‘ran fast down her face and fell into her lap,’ ‘rose to her eyes,’ ‘rushed to her eyes, ‘ sprang to her thoughts,’ ¢ started,’ ‘ streamed from her eyes,’ and ‘used to flow abundantly when they could, unseen.’ Besides this, her tears were ‘ blinding her’ (twice), ‘choking her,’ ‘ fast coming,’ were ‘in 36 Boe. Rican. THE VESTIBULE her eyes’ (twice), ‘many a time there,’ ¢ poured out fast,’ ‘running down her cheeks,’ ‘ wet upon her cheeks,’ were ‘wrung from her,’ and, worst of all, ‘ would drop down on her Bible.’ “<¢ Unspeakable tears were shed,’ ‘violent tears burst forth,’ and indeed ‘it seemed as if she would pour out her very heart in tears.’ ‘¢ She ‘watered the rock with tears,’ ‘wiped away a few tears,’ and also ‘ glad tears,’ ‘went to sleep with wet eyelashes,’ ‘words were spoken with a sob’ and ‘washed down with bitter tears,’ and all this time she ‘wondered, waited, and wept.’ She wept, ‘bitterly,’ (twice), ‘violently’ (twice), ‘with all the vehement passion of her childhood,’ and finally ‘ wept herself out.” She ‘was weeping,’ ‘as she answered,’ ‘as she spoke,’ ‘afresh,’ ‘very much,’ ‘with mixed sorrow and thankful joy.’ She wept over a ‘letter again and again,’ and over another twice a day for six days. Besides this she wept ‘on her pillow,’ on a rock, on Alice’s neck, on her lap, on her frock, on the Bible, and on ‘poor pussy,’ and converted Van Brunt with one applica- tion on the back of his hand. On one occasion she ‘ yielded helplessly to grief, and on another ‘ the tempest of tears seemed to gather force as it flowed.’ “¢ Although ‘now and then the old fit of weeping would come,’ ‘many were the bitter tears she had known,’ and ‘many were the silent tears that rolled down and wet her pillow, ‘while even her thoughts resolved themselves into ‘tears,’ still she was insatiable, and ‘wished to be where tears could burst and her heart could break unseen.’ 87 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED “She was a pale, delicate child, and while ‘she would weep till she wept her eyes out,’ ‘her whole frame quivering with hysterical sobs,’ ‘ her heart flowing away in tears,’ ‘the pent-up tempest bursting forth with a fury that racked her little frame from ,head to foot,’ we are told that unfortunately ‘ convulsive weep- ing only exhausted her.’ After all this, it is difficult to see why any one should be ‘surprised to see several large drops of tears’ on her person. “‘Tt would be unjust to assume that Ellen was always in this maudlin condition; and, in fact, Miss Warner takes special pains to point out more than one occasion when she did not cry, although no obstacle apparently offered. Thus we are told that ‘she almost burst into tears,’ ‘ was almost crying,’ ‘ was in constant danger of bursting into tears, and ‘was in question whether to give way to tears.’ On other occasions there was no room for doubt, for we are told explicitly that ‘there were no tears,’ ‘tears did not come,’ ‘tears could not come then,’ ‘she did not shed tears now,’ and once ‘ she was too weak for violent weeping,’ so of course it was useless to begin. ‘“¢ After reading this extraordinary book, one is forced to the conclusion that the author could only have secured so great a variety of expression by first preparing such a list as the above, and then checking off each phrase as used.” 88 CHAPTER IV SOME BIRDS “© Hast thou named all the birds without a gun?’ ornithology of the island, but simply to tell something of the familiar feathered friends who spend the summer with us; and of them all, none is more welcome than the Robin. For the first year or two of our life here we never saw a robin, and with good reason, for | DO not propose to write an essay upon the there were no grassy lawns, and not a worm to furnish food. I feel quite sure about this, for as we dug the land over, we never saw a trace of one; so finally we sent over to the mainland and got five or six quarts of squirming redmen, which we planted in various places on the island. I confess this was not done with a view to attract- ing the robin, but solely for the benefit of those “Anglers with the Fly’ who were beginning to visit us in ever-increasing numbers. These gen- tlemen all spend hours arranging and re-arranging 89 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED their fly-books, but sooner or later, before start- ing to fish, are sure to remark carelessly, “ Oh, by the way, Deck may just as well dig us a few worms, don’t you know.” It is curious, but in this paradise for fly-casting, worms are a regular article of commerce ; quotations on the exchange vary with the weather, and range from fifty cents a quart in June to more than a dollar in the dry weather of August and September. It was to supply this demand conveniently, that we planted these worms on the island, but it had the un- looked for result of populating our home with robins. To-day, I believe, we would willingly part with every fish in the lake rather than with our robins. They come in increasing numbers every year, and if a large percentage of them did not fall victims to the gunners in the Southern States, the increase would doubtless be even more rapid. I feel quite sure that the same birds return to us every summer, and that the robin (like so many other birds, and fishes too) wishes to build her nest near the place of her birth. As no birds of any kind are ever shot at on the island, ex- cepting only the birds of prey, like hawks, owls, and king-fishers, these robins become ever more familiar and confiding. It is curious how quickly 90 Oe SOME BIRDS wild creatures learn that you will not harm them, and how willing they are to be friendly. In the past season one pair built a nest on the porch roof, just under the overhanging eaves of the house, and so close to a window that one could reach out and touch the nest. They take posses- sion of the woodshed even, and more than one nest has been built therein. One year a pair raised two broods in a nest built on a window-sill, and one could stand inside the room and watch the mother at her work. A few little firs were planted last spring close beside the studio, and though they were scarce two feet in height, a robin built her nest in the branches of one and reared her brood successfully. The robin lays four eggs, but I have never yet seen the mother with more than three young, and two is the usual number, though a single youngster is frequently seen. A pair will rear two broods in the same nest in one season, but I have never known a nest to be occupied a second year. This is not so strange, for the robin naturally wants a clean nest to start with, and evidently prefers to build a new home rather than clean up the old one. Many people manage housekeeping in much the same way. They are always moving QI AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED into newly built houses, and when one gets dirty, instead of cleaning it they move to a new one. The robin is an enormous feeder, and, it is said, will devour half again as much as his weight in twenty-four hours. What a task. the mother has, not only to satisfy her own appetite, but also to fill those hungry little stomachs in the nest! I am glad to say, however, that the father helps in this work, and in wet weather one will cover the little ones, while the other forages for food, and then they will change places. After the young have left the nest, they must still be fed for a time; but I have never seen the male help in this task. The young birds follow the mother about, and are eternally crying for more, more, more. She feeds them generously for a day or two, and then cuts down their rations, trying all the while to teach them to help themselves. She will point out a worm to one, apparently urging him to pick it up, and if he fails to do so in a brief time, the mother pulls it out and eats it herself. The youngster scolds and cries the more, and then sometimes the mother will turn and present to him a bit of stick or straw, which he seizes eagerly, and drops promptly, as the mother flies away, evidently laughing. 92 SOME BIRDS I delight in watching these birds on the lawn. One will hop or run about for a time, then stop, peer this way and that, and suddenly bracing him- self, look intently at a certain spot for a second. Down darts his bill, catching the head of the worm as it protrudes from its burrow, and then comes the tug of war. If he has got hold of a big fellow, his back straightens more and more as he pulls, until suddenly the worm loosens his hold and Master Robin has to recover himself quickly to avoid tumbling over on his back. If the birds are still in the nest, and small, the robin is apt to drop the worm on the hard path near by, and cut it in pieces of what he deems a proper size, before flying away to his nest. ‘The robins start South, I think, almost as soon as they are full grown, and in August we see only the ones who have remained to rear a second brood, while by September these, too, are nearly all gone. Even late in the month, however, one is apt to see a solitary belated one, and now and then flocks of a dozen or more will stop at the island for a day’s rest, as they pass from breeding- grounds farther north. You are pretty sure to see them then on the gravelly beach taking a bath, as a refreshment after their flight. They 93 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED do not then apparently scatter over the lawns to feed, but are satisfied with a hasty lunch on the ripe red berries of the mountain ash. A few of these birds spend the winter in the severe climate of northern Maine, seeking shelter in the thickets of fir and spruce. Too much cannot be said of the beauty and variety in the song of the robin during the nesting-season, and it is a constant source of delight to me. Quite the reverse is his sharp, scolding note of alarm. His confidence in you evidently has its limit, and if you approach too near his nest, he kicks up a fuss that will dis- turb every feathered inhabitant of the island, bringing the timid ones to the verge of nervous prostration. Under such circumstances the robin gets mad all over, taking no pains to conceal his feelings, and, indeed, if he does not actually swear, no bird ever did or could. The White-throated Sparrow, or Peabody Bird, is not so conspicuous in his ways as is the robin, and unless you look for him, you will rarely see him by accident, though he does not appear to be at all timid. It is his beautiful song, however, that impresses itself upon you, as it rings out on a July day, and be the gossip on the porch ever so interesting, some bird-lover is sure to hold up 04 SOME BIRDS a warning finger, and smilingly ask, “ Did you hear that?” “I, I, Peabody, Peabody, Pea- body,” he is supposed to be saying, or in Maine it is, “ All day, Whittling, Whittling, Whittling ;” but translate it as you will, it gives one a very great pleasure to hear it. A friendly little fellow, with his bright orange and black markings, is the Redstart (German, Roth Stert, or Red-Tail, though its tail is not red at all), and from early May till July he is in evidence. He alights on the rough bark of an old birch near the corner of the porch, peers about this way and that, chirps cordially, and then flirts over to the porch rail, hops along it, turns a somersault in the air, and lights upon a near-by bush. He peers under the leaves for insects, and then darts away, only to be back again ina moment. I called Al Wilbur’s atten- tion to him one day, as I sat reading on the porch. “Yes,” said Al, “those birds were over here on the island when we first came. We found one of ’em dead, an’ another was livin’, but he was terrible slimsy.” Poor little fly- catcher, you might well be “slimsy” with ice and snow still covering the waters of the lake, and never an insect ready for business. 95 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED Our big chimney was barely built before the Chimney-Swifts came to occupy it. Although in May and June we have fire almost constantly in the three hearths below, these birds seem to have no trouble in nest-building or rearing their young in the midst of the smoke. We hear the muffled flutter of their wings at night, and the cheerful chirpings as they feed their young by day. Now and then one falls on the hearth, and seems too confused by the novelty of its situation to fly up again, but makes its way into the hall, if the fire screen is far enough out for him to escape. Then it beats its wings against the window-panes until taken in some gentle hand to the free air and sunlight. I remember an enormous colony that used to occupy one chim- ney at Firmins some years ago. Towards dusk they would begin to gather, not by scores or even hundreds, but literally by thousands, circling around the chimney, till at last, all having appar- ently joined the flock, the circles grew closer and the mass resolved itself into a gigantic funnel through which the birds were seemingly poured into the chimney top. Of course it was im- possible to estimate accurately the number of these birds; but the funnel, when formed, 96 eae SOME BIRDS seemed to be fully thirty feet high, and as much in diameter across the top, the birds circling about in a dark, compact mass. Just as you must have a chimney if you would have the swift, and angle-worms if you want robins, so, too, the flower-garden must come before the Humming Bird will visit you. We had had our flowers for a year or two before I noticed the first humming-bird, and it was for some time a rare event to see them; but the increase of late has been very marked, and last season the terrace was simply alive with these beautiful little fairy-like birds. You could not walk along the head of the upper terrace on a bright day in July or August without seeing a dozen or more of them at a time. In August it was curious to see them perching on the trees on the edge of the terrace, pruning their feathers, and then darting off like a flash of light. Doubtless these were young birds, who had not yet attained their full powers of flight. Some young nephews of mine caught a pair of these birds, and kept them in their ‘rooms for several days, the birds seemingly quite contented with their surroundings, feed- ing freely out of a vial of sugar and water, 7 97 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED and perching confidingly on the shoulders of their care-takers. One of the most entertaining of little birds is the Chickadee. He is so familiar and jolly that you cannot feel offended at him no matter what he does. I had tied a bit of worsted about the stalk of the first sunflower to bloom one year, and on passing the bed I found quite half of the still unripe seed had disappeared. Looking at the blossom in surprise, and scarcely two feet from it, I was startled suddenly by a bird who flew by my shoulder and perched on the top of the flower. He looked at me and I at him. I scolded, and he scolded back, and right before my eyes, within reach of my hand, he plucked out another seed and swallowed it forthwith. “Why, you miserable little—” “ Chickadee- dee-dee,” he said, and finished the sentence for me. It was my introduction to the little fellow, and I could not take offence at his thievery. He may have all the sunflower seeds he wants, and he comes every year to get them. I was walking around the island one day with John Burroughs, and as the path followed the head of a steep bluff, we were suddenly startled by the sound of a watchman’s rattle as a King- 98 Tue Garpen Beps SOME BIRDS fisher sailed off over the waters, from apparently beneath our feet. Had I been alone, I would doubtless have passed on with but a casual glance at the disappearing bird, but not so Mr. Bur- roughs. “There’s a kingfisher’s nest here,” said he, with unerring instinct; and leaning over the bank a moment, exclaimed, “ Here it is ; now let ’s see where it goes.” It was a hole in the bank he had found, and cutting a birch wand and trimming off its leaves, he gave it to one of the lads who were with us, and he probed the opening with the lance. The direction being known, and the distance carefully measured (and it was quite three feet in depth), we marked the probable location of the nest. Pick and shovel were quickly brought, and after digging down in the path about a foot, we un- earthed the nest, and one young naturalist’s col- lection was the richer by two highly prized kingfisher’s eggs. The boys had permission to practise shooting on the kingfishers for the sake of the young trout and salmon, and the mark is a harder one to hit than any clay pigeon. You think you have him absolutely motionless, as he is poised for a dart at a fish, but invariably the moment you fire he has dropped like a shot on 9 L.of C. ? AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED the fish below. A number of these birds are shot every year, but they seem to be on the whole quite as plentiful as they were several years ago. I love to watch the kindly little Chipping Sparrows, and the mother’s care of her brood is a lesson for the rest of bird-life, and for human beings also, for that matter. They huddle so closely about the mother, teasing for food so loudly that she always gives it to them, even when they are quite full grown. The English Sparrow, that noisy, quarrelsome fellow, has as yet never landed on the island, and may a kind Providence still continue to keep him away! Both the Red-headed and the Hairy Wood- pecker are residents of the island, the latter being by far the more common of the two. Every year we have at least one noisy nest of Crows, and the Cuckoo is to be seen and heard at times, though not frequently. I saw the Scarlet Tan- ager but once, while the Red-eyed Vireo, the Red-breasted Nuthatch, the Kingbird, and the Olive-backed Thrush are common, as well as a number of other summer visitors with whom I am not so familiar. When we began the building of the house, I 100 SOME BIRDS found the nest of a Black Duck within thirty feet of where the men were at work. It was built at the foot of a large birch-tree, sheltered by brakes and dwarf hemlock. The nest was but a rude affair, but it contained nine eggs. Some of the men tried to capture this wary duck, but she was too quick and cautious for them, and on every occasion she escaped, returning to her nest when she could do so unobserved. She was there for more than a week after we had begun work, and though driven off many times, she managed to hatch her brood successfully. I saw the nest one morning when there were seven newly hatched ducks in it, with two eggs still unbroken, and as I approached all the little ones darted out of the nest and hid themselves beneath the leaves. I found it almost impossible to dis- cover the hiding-place of any of them, yet when 1 drew away from the nest they one after another returned to it. When I saw it the next day, it was tenantless, the last two eggs having been hatched. This nest was fully three hundred feet from the nearest water, and fifty-five feet above the level of the lake. Since this time I have never seen a black duck on the island, though many nest in this region. IOI AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED The Shelldrake is very common, and breeds freely on the lake shores and up the various streams. The Broad-bill and the Blue-winged Teal also breed in our neighborhood, but are by no means so common as the Black Duck or Shelldrake. To me the Loon is one of the most interesting birds we have about us. The beauty of his plumage and his skill as a swimmer and diver are unrivalled by any other water-bird in the north. His cry is like the wail of a lost soul, rising out of the darkness of the night. I have heard his call distinctly for a distance of quite three miles, though the bird itself was not visible without the aid of a glass. These birds are hard to kill on the water, as they dive at the flash of the gun, remain under for a long time, and generally appear again far out of range. It is useless to try to get very near to them; so a rifle must always be used, and I suppose that more than a hundred shots are fired at loons in the State of Maine, for every one that is killed. Three loons having been seen on one occasion, the little launch we were on bore down upon them, and firing began as soon as we were within range. Finally the birds came to the surface within pos- 102 SOME BIRDS sibly seventy-five yards of the boat. The two younger birds dived promptly, but the mother remained longer on the surface, undoubtedly for the purpose of attracting the shot to herself and away from the young ones, and as a result she was in another moment stretched dead upon the water, a deliberate sacrifice for her young. Al- though the loon eats many fish in a season, I still do not permit it to be shot at from the island. It is decreasing gradually but certainly in the region, and it will probably not be long before this bird disappears before the advancing ranks of the summer visitor with a gun. The female lays but two eggs, but sometimes raises more than a single brood in aseason. The nest is very rude, scarcely more than a hollow in the moss, and is close enough to the water for the bird to slide into it with little effort, for she is but a clumsy and helpless traveller on land. When the young birds are a few days old, the mother pushes them into the water and forces them to swim. They will crawl upon her back, and with them as passengers she will sail out into the lake ; then, when she wishes to give them a swim- ming lesson, she has but to dive, and they are compelled to make their own way on the water. 103 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED My friend the Professor took a lively interest in loons, and refused to be comforted unless he had one of the eggs in just the right state and could examine the embryo. After a protracted search we at last found a nest with two eggs in it, one of which we carried in triumph to the island. Instead of examining the contents that afternoon, the Professor, worn out by his exertions, insisted upon taking a nap, and postponed his work till the following day. At breakfast-time the next morning, I found him on the porch, walking up and down, singing Luther’s Hyman in his rich bass voice. ““Good-morning,” was my greeting. “ How’s your loon?” “Did n’t think to look at it,” said the Pro- fessor, mildly surprised at the question. “Well, if I were you, I would. Where did you put it?” “Why, in my trunk, amongst my underwear, so it wouldn’t get cold.” I smiled with all the delight of a boy who hears the first roll of the drum and sees the distant glare of the torches as the procession advances. “You go look at it!” I urged. My torchlight procession arrived on time, and 104 SOME BIRDS it was not Luther’s Hymn'I heard him singing the next moment. The loon had hatched in the cozy underwear, and whatever of the contents of the egg he had not needed, he just left where it was, or trailed it about in his explorations. Some years afterwards the Professor called on me at a Boston hotel, and finding no cards about him, obtained a blank one from the clerk. This was the inscription upon the card : — The Ruffed Grouse, called the Partridge (or, to be accurate, Patridge) in Maine, and known as a Pheasant farther south, was a regular resi- dent of the island some years before we owned it; but sportsmen landing there in the fall were able to kill every bird, for they could not fly to the shore, and therefore their extermination was comparatively easy and certain. For some years after our arrival none of these birds visited us; but one spring, on the breaking up of the 105 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED ice, three or four of them were fortunately left upon the island. It was lucky for them as well as for us, for they have found at last a resting- place free from their most deadly enemies, man and the fox. I fed these visitors with cracked corn all through the summer, and kept a box filled with food in the wagon-shed during the winter. They raised two broods during the summer, and we had twenty or thirty birds that fall, and though many left in the winter, when the lake was frozen over, we have always ever since had enough left to keep up the supply. Find- ing that they wished to stay with us, we built them a home of their own, with openings at different heights on the sheltered side of the house, so that they might be at liberty to come in or go out even when the ground was deep in snow. While this house was being built, a cock grouse sat on a log in full view, not more than twenty feet back in the grove, and seemed to be observing the work with interest. There was one bird that became very tame. He would sit at the edge of the woods, and if he saw one of the men going toward the stables, he would gravely follow him, waiting on the outside, and evidently expecting that corn would be tossed to 106 SOME BIRDS him, as it invariably was. Once he went up a stairway into the second story of the boat-house, and was found in the hall-way above by one of the men, who caught him and carrying him down- stairs let him go. When set upon the ground, he did not attempt to fly, nor did he seem in the least alarmed, but shaking out his tumbled feathers, walked quietly off into the bushes. One September a full-grown young bird flew out of the woods, across fifty feet of lawn, rushing blindly against the side of the house, to fall dead on the ground with a broken neck. One day Al Wilbur noticed a mother grouse cross- ing the lawn with her brood, then almost full grown. The mother, evidently a little dis- turbed, darted into a near-by thicket, and called to her brood to follow. They all obeyed except one stubborn little chap, who remained behind to attend to some delicacy he had found. The mother clucked her commands again, but still he paid no attention, whereupon she darted out after the disobedient one, and giving him a whack with her wing and an angry peck with her bill, sent him scurrying in short order to the thicket, to which refuge she herself walked back sedately. The grouse is a careful mother, 107 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED and generally rears successfully the greater part of her brood. I have counted twelve young birds in June, and the same flock contained ten healthy full-grown birds in September. Of course there are no foxes on the island, and the only enemies we have to watch for are the owls and the hawks. The latter are not numerous, and the former, from their large size, are sure to be discovered by some one, and promptly shot. We have probably seven species of owls in this region, but as far as my observation goes, only four have visited the island. These are the Great-horned Owl, the American Long-eared Owl, the Short-eared Owl, and the Little Saw- Whet, or Acadian Owl. Of course it is quite possible that all of these birds may have come to us in search of field mice, to which they were heartily welcome; but as they were all, with the exception of the little Saw-Whet, uniformly sus- pected of designs on the grouse, they were promptly shot on sight. Our success with the grouse was so gratifying that we determined to try the Ring-necked, or English, Pheasant. A New Jersey friend was kind enough to present me with some of these birds, and they were taken to the island and 108 SOME BIRDS allowed to rove at will, as free as their com- panions, the grouse. They made themselves at home at once, nested and brought forth two broods of fully a dozen birds each, the first sea- son. Of these nearly all died in early youth, for the pheasant has a bad reputation as a mother. Possibly this evil repute is gained in confine- ment, where these birds are very rarely allowed to bring up their own broods, common barn- yard hens being substituted. One might ex- pect that in a number of generations the species would, through disuse, easily lose the art of caring for their young; but, be that as it may, it is certainly true that when these birds first came to the island, they did not rear more than ten per cent of the brood, while now, after a lapse of five years, they as certainly rear successfully sixty or seventy per cent. I liberated my birds at first on the lawn, from the box in which they had travelled, and one of them went out of the opening as if shot from a gun. He sailed over the trees and out over the water at a pro- digious rate, and we could see him gradually lower, until he fell into the water with a splash, half a mile distant. A boat was quickly sent out, and the bird was picked up more dead 109 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED than alive. The water was very cold, and the poor thing was completely exhausted, being un- able to stand when placed on the ground. We carried him up to the house, and turned him over to the tender mercies of Hortense, who took him at once into the laundry and opening his bill gave him a few drops of whiskey diluted with water, and then left him to warm up in his box before the fire. Within an hour he was apparently as well as ever, and the next time he was liber- ated, he ran off into the woods with the speed of a race-horse, showing no disposition what- ever to fly. The following year I got three hens and a cock, and this time I opened the box in the bird-house, and left them there for an hour or so to stretch themselves and regain their equanimity. Then the door was quietly opened, and the birds hopped out, one after another, and looked about. Now the old cock from the year before was one of the biggest birds I ever saw, and in full plumage he seemed to be fully a yard in length, while the new cock was rather less than the average size and weight. These new birds had scarcely gotten out of the house, when the old cock gave his hoarse crow from the edge of the woods near-by, and im- 110 SOME BIRDS mediately the three hens turned in that direc- tion, the new cock bringing up the rear, ap- parently in a somewhat doubtful frame of mind. That his suspicions were well founded was quickly proved, for the party had scarcely dis- appeared into the woods before the little cock came half flying, half running back and making a mighty clatter, with the old cock in full pursuit. Once the old cock saw the intruder driven well away, he returned proudly to the three hens and promptly added them all to his own household. The little fellow wandered about disconsolate and alone for some days, but later I saw that he had enticed one of the hens away from her larger and more brilliant lord and master, and together they reared their brood. Every fall since then, I have had from twenty to thirty of these birds on the island, but in the spring only four or five are to be found. Some doubtless perish in the cold winter, others fall victims to the wiles of the fox or owl, but some I know wander to the main shore, and take up a home there, they having been seen with their broods at various points about the shores of the lake. The laws of the State protect them at all seasons, and I have no III AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED doubt that these beautiful birds will gradually increase throughout the region, if they are looked after a little, and protected by the law for a few years. The past season we had two flocks, each of eight well-grown birds, one of them being as wild and timid as birds can be, while the other wan- dered at will across the lawns and near the house, feeding like barnyard fowls while the men were at work near by. In both cases the flocks held together, the old cock always in the lead, guiding and guarding the mother and the chicks, who followed obediently in his wake. I know of no more interesting sight than watching these birds _ and the grouse, as they wander fearlessly over the lawn. To me there is a greater satisfaction in seeing near me a wild bird who shows no fear than I could possibly experience in wringing his neck as I dropped his limp, dead body into a game-bag. Indeed, asthe years pass by, I confess to taking less and less delight in murder of any kind. I was jeered at by all my friends for sending a dozen Quail to the island, and it was freely pointed out that there was not a single “ Bob White” in the State, and that as six inches of 112 SOME BIRDS snow in New Jersey meant certain death to thousands of the species, it was absurd to expect them to survive the deep snows of Maine. As soon as these birds arrived in May, they paired off and we had several coveys of young birds the first year, there being eighty or more of them on the island in September. That winter the snow lay three feet deep on a level, but as the birds always found plenty of food and safe shelter in the bird-house, they survived the storms admi- rably, and a considerable number of them were still on the island when I arrived there in May. I am quite certain of this, as I not only heard their whistle frequently, but actually saw them. They were there until the first day of June, but after that no trace of them could be discovered. Where they went or why they went, I never knew. They were able to fly from the island to the main shore at will, and had been seen to make the trip frequently from and to a shore over a mile away. While on the island the Bob White made the air resound with his shrill, but to me, delightful whistle. They perched upon the trees and bushes close to the house, and their concert began with sunrise. For some reason or other their call annoyed Hortense excessively, 8 113 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED and she kept the chore-boy busy all summer driving them away from the neighborhood of the house. She left in the fall vowing vengeance on the race, promising to eat dozens of their relatives during the winter, and declaring that she would never return to the island as long as the Bob White remained. It is a fact beyond dispute that they finally disappeared the very day she returned ; but whether it was an accidental coin- cidence, an answer to prayer, or a pure case of hoodoo, I do not presume to decide. Having no flower-beds the first year or two on the island, we had chickens in abun- dance, and they were allowed to roam at will. They chose their nests where they would, and though we had but few eggs, we had no end of broilers in the fall. George Pickens used to catch them, as he wanted them, in a landing-net, but later in the season they got too wild for that, and he appealed for help. The young fellows then used to get target practice shooting them through the head with a twenty- two calibre rifle, which did well at first, but later the chickens moved off out of range the moment a boy appeared with a gun. A larger gun was therefore used ; but soon that became of no avail, 114 SOME BIRDS for at sight of any suspicious person the chickens ran like race-horses, dodging behind every tree. Then the shot gun was turned to, and snap shots had to be taken at the flying fowl while the gun- ner himself was on a dead run. When we left in the fall we had about forty chickens, wilder than any grouse I ever saw. I suggested to Deck that he might arrange, if possible, with some farmer to board them for the winter “on the halves.” When I got back the following spring, I found the island once more well supplied with chickens, and said to Deck, “So you did get the chickens boarded ‘ on the halves.’ ”’ “ No,” he replied, “I didn’t. I couldn’t find any one that would board ’em at all. One man said he would n’t board ’em ‘ for the wholes,’ so I sold’em to Jerry Oakes. I got twenty-five cents apiece for ’em and I sold ’em on the foot;”’ and Deck chuckled quietly to himself. “Jerry an’ his boy came over to catch ’em one day, an’ they chased ’em all over the island, but they never got a feather. They tried ’em again ‘nother day, but had no better luck; so Jerry made a trade with some boys, agreein’ to give ‘em half of all they could catch. Well, the boys chased ’em all day, and did n’t get any; so they 115 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED waited till the chickens went to roost at night, and then they ’d steal out under the trees, and catch mebby a couple by the legs. Then they ’d have to wait till the chickens got settled again. They was up all night, and as it was powerful cold they nearly froze, but they got the chickens.” “ But where did you get these chickens?” I asked. “Oh, I bought ’em of Jerry Oakes; paid him twenty-five cents apiece for ’em. Jerry was sellin’ out. He ‘lowed there wa’n’t no money in chickens.” But when the flowers came, the chickens went finally. We tried ducks too, but the mammoth frogs of the region swallowed the young ones ; the old drake murdered a few, the hen got paralyzed from long sitting, and the young ones who sur- vived never got big enough to eat before we left in the fall. Then four guinea-fowls came, and they were very entertaining for atime. The little spaniel had had much amusement chasing the chickens and levying contributions on their tail-feathers, and he doubtless thought that there ought to be 116 SOME BIRDS as much fun in the guineas. The first time he tried it, however, instead of running away, the guineas lined up before him like soldiers, and advanced with their saw-sharpening cry on the cocker. He stood his ground for a moment, looking at them in astonishment, and then, before their noisy advance, he turned tail and fled. It was the only time I ever saw this little dog run from anything ; but the cheers of the guineas and their martial aspect were too much for him. Then the guineas got to dusting themselves in the flower-beds, and their doom was sealed. Next came a peacock, who was beautiful to look upon, but he had an objectionable habit or two, in the opinion of some. He would roost on a limb of the highest birch-tree he could find or upon the roof of the house, and through the night he would claw at the shingles in a way that was most alarming and disturbing to the sleepers below. This was not so bad, of course, for I happened to sleep on the first floor; but when this big bird sang, every one within a mile was forced to hear him. Al Wilbur took a special interest in the bird, and the peacock seemed to return his affection, for if he said anything un- derstandable at all, it was clearly, “Oh! Al!” 117 AND THE WILDERNESS BLOSSOMED uttered in a tone of voice as if he were sounding an alarm of fire. The bird seemed so uneasy that we finally decided that he was pining for a mate; so we sent forthwith for a hen, but the result was not encouraging; indeed, it only seemed to double the difficulty. She would perch beside him, and when he yelled, “Oh! Al!” she would give a hoarse croak of approval, encouraging him to renewed effort. The Professor arrived one night, and by sun- rise the next morning this pair of big birds were perched upon the porch railing near the natural- ist’s window, doing their best to give him a lesson in ornithology. The Professor, however, failed to appreciate their efforts, and did his best to dis- lodge them, but they refused to move, unaffected by either his threats or his blandishments. Then he leaned far out on the window-sill, wild-eyed, his night-dress flapping in the morning wind, and flung the whole contents of his wood-box at these innocent birds. He must have been a bad shot, for he brought down no game, and, his ammunition being exhausted, he was forced to return to his bed groaning 1n despair. At break- fast-time he told us that he was forced, much to his regret, to return at once to Boston. My 118 SOME BIRDS scientific friend is by no means a skilful liar, and, suspecting him at once, we finally forced from him the whole truth. That night the men, under the Professor’s enthusiastic leadership, rounded up the pea-fowl, and driving them into the woodshed, locked them up for the night, when peace settled down upon the island. But the end was near. These big birds must needs also dust themselves, and imagine, if you please, the appearance of the flower-beds after they were through with them. I waited for no formalities ; no court-martial was held, but I promptly pre- sented them to Deck, and when he accepted the gift, added, “Then they are yours from this moment; but remember, if I find them on the island to-morrow morning, by the eternal! I’ eat: tm, 119 CHAPTER V FLOWER—BEDS ‘