101 466
Bears, Bibles and a Boy
At the tarn erf the oeatury, Jesse I>avid
Roberts ws a small boy growing up at
New York, ao isolated Adi-
iity. The nearest general
mj&pMg away, and to the
fifty thousand acres of
J^sse Oairid was the tifaaard son of his
father, a Bible reader and a noted Adiron-
dack bear trapper who could set a trap
to ontwifc tibe wariest bear. In Bears,
Btibie* wi & B&y* Mr. Roberts tells of his
father's liv<dy caqpedfera^oes, aiad admits the
fears of a small boy who was not quite
sure that fbe bearskins in the woodshed
would not come alive again. Tbere is the
story erf I?atib^s first eooounter with a
bear, when he was armed only with an
ax; rf lie searcto or the elusive ghost
bear; of old Yellow Tusk; aaad of Father's
gallant dogs. Mr. Roberts tells also of
Paibear^s unswerving devotion to God; of
Ms admiration for tibe mighty men of the
Bible; and of the morning prayer and
Bible-reading which no earthly business
Eteot eveaa tine pursuit of marauding
bears could
Tbis is, as well, a book about a closely
knit family living in a small frame house
which jet managed, like Noah's Ark, to
accoxumodate Father and Mother and
dyOdifos, Mr. Roberts recalls the
of boyhood, the pleasures of fish-
~ fee maple-sugar season, and the
F>esnieidies of l^erbs and barks. Most
of aM, he recalls the guidance
on bach flap)
AUG 71979
Beax-s, BlJbj.es cuiu
MAIN
and a Boy
MtdtaU fy (jtl Watte*
NEW YORK
cwul
a
MEMORIES OF THE ADIRONDACK^
jeM&
W. W. NORTON & COMPANY, INC.
Copyright 1961 by W. W. Norton & Company, Inc.
Edition
Library of Congress Catalog Card No. 61-7482
Printed in the United States of America
for the Publishers by the Vail-BaHou Press
123456789
CONTENTS
Bears in the Family - 9
The Lure of the Adirondacks ' 21
Father the Bear Trapper 28
The Power of a Book 36
This Is the Way It Was 46
The Ghost of the Forest 54
Father and Prince - 60
The Big Catamount 75
Lion, the Bear Dog - 81
The Blizzard of '88 90
Making Maple Sugar - 97
Home Remedies 101
Our New Dog Gyp - 108
My First Testimonial - 112
Chores and Making Money 116
School Days and Distractions 125
Fishing: The Favorite Pastime - 133
Good Neighbors 142
Bible Problems * 147
The Lord's Prayer in a Runaway Cart - 157
Bee Lining 160
The Move to Chestertoton 164
Teaching a Country School 169
Bell Hop at Chester House 177
OZd Mutton Glutton * 183
Glens Falls Academy - 189
First Steps Toward the Ministry 193
Summer and Fall, 1905 205
Moody Bible Institute 213
A Sorrow 219
A Certain Danger * 222
Confusions and Convictions: Wesleyan
University, 1906
Hearts and Prizes
TTie Best Pnse o/ AZZ - 237
My Ftrs* Full-time Church
Honeymoon at Pharaoh Lake 247
T/ie SoZe of t/ie Farm 251
BEARS IN THE FAMILY
ARLY one morning in the spring of
1886, there was a loud knocking on the back door of our
Adirondack home. A neighbor, in great excitement, ex-
plained that during the night bears had killed several of
his sheep. The man had come to our house because Father
made it a part of his business to keep black bears thinned
down to a point where sheep-raising could be made
profitable.
We lived near the head of Brant Lake and close to
the northern boundary of Warren County, New York.
Ours was a small valley, hemmed in by mountains and in-
habited by a half-dozen families who made their living by
fanning, lumbering, and keeping a few cattle and sheep.
To the north of us lay a wilderness from which bears
frequently came forth for an easy living.
Urgent as our neighbor's appeal for help seemed to
be, I recall that Father did not go to investigate the
9
Bears, Bibles and a Boy
slaughter of the sheep until, in unhurried manner, he had
finished the morning devotion of Bible-reading and prayer.
He knew that the marauders were by then digesting their
food in the remote recesses of the forest, and felt that the
most important business before the house was that of turn-
ing our hearts and minds toward God. If the chapter for
the day was the one that lists the names of all the fathers
who begat and all the children who were begotten from
Adam to Moses, I am sure that it was carefully read
through to the end. The prayer that followed the reading
was likewise of no brief duration.
After completing the family worship, Father put a
leash on our husky dog, Lion, and went off to find the
tracks of the bears and the uneaten portions of the man-
gled sheep. A few days later I was afraid to venture into
our woodshed, because two large black bears were hang-
ing up out there. Being a small boy, I was not quite sure
that the sheep-killing monsters would remain dead.
While the pursuit of these particular bears was a mat-
ter of routine for Father, some of the bears that were
caught during the period from 1865 to 1895 provided
lively experiences. To any hunter the successful tracking
and killing of these big bears would seem great sport, and
there is no doubt that Father enjoyed the challenge of a
good hunt However, to the people of our region bear
hunting and trapping was part of the very serious busi-
ness of survival It was vital that the small flocks of sheep
and cattle in our valley be protected, and Father knew
this welL
Father came naturally to bear-trapping; you might
II
Bears, Bibles and a Boy
say that encounters with bears ran in the family. My
Grandfather Roberts was one of old Vermont's famous trap-
pers. Having acquired the hunter s zeal from his ancestors,
he found exciting satisfaction in tracking bears and other
wild animals to their lairs. He knew how to smoke bears
out of their dens, and at times when they were slow in
moving, he went in after them. On one occasion he even
got up from what people thought would be his deathbed
to pursue a big bear.
It was unusual for a man as hardy as Grandfather
was to take to his bed, but at this time he had good rea-
son. Night and day for two weeks he had been caring for
two elderly people who had been stricken with a malady
known in those day as "black diphtheria.* Because the
disease was so feared, it had been impossible to find any-
one to go to the aid of these unfortunate men. On hearing
of their plight, Grandfather, who had never been afraid of
anything except the wrath and scorn of his wife, had
volunteered as nurse and attendant. Taking with him a
Bears, Bibles and a Boy
few home remedies consisting of oils and herbs, he had
gone boldly to the quarantined house and offered his
services.
All efforts to save the lives of the sufferers were in
vain. The men's throats became so swollen that they could
not take nourishment, and medicine ad not give any re-
lief. When the men died, Grandfather prepared their
bodies for the undertaker, assisted in their burial, and
started for home. On the way, he realized that he was not
feeling well Chills were causing him to tremble, his heart
seemed to flutter at times, his throat was getting sore, and
he felt dizzy. He thought that these symptoms were due
to his lack of sleep and his exposure to the cold wind in
the cemetery. As he turned down the last stretch of road
which led to his gate, Grandmother, who was at the win-
dow, noticed his unsteady walk and went out to meet him.
She helped him into the house and put him to bed.
Until long past midnight Grandmother tended her
patient. She kept his feet warm with hot bricks, and ad-
ministered potions of steeped herbs and barks. Finally,
after thrashing about with alternate chills and burning
fever, Grandfather dozed off from exhaustion. Grand-
mother also lay down to rest, but had hardly gone to
sleep before she was awakened by an impatient pounding
at the door. A man's voice shouted, "I've found the tracks
of a big bear, and need your bear dog."
Grandfather had now been aroused from his slumber,
and when he heard what the neighbor wanted, he called
out, ''Wait a minute, and lH go with you." Suiting his
actions to his words, he got up and began to put on his
clothes. Grandmother rushed into the bedroom, but in
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 13
spite of her entreaties and the uncomplimentary words
that she used to try and beat him down, Grandfather per-
sisted in dressing.
In behalf of Grandmother, I should state that she was
no weakling in the art of persuasion. Father often spoke
about her great strength. He said that she could pick up
a full barrel of cider and drink out of the bung hole.
When an ugly ram came at her in a sheep pasture, she
caught him by his horns, threw him to the ground, and
pounded his head with a stone until he was ready to be-
have more like a gentleman. Disgusted with a braggart
who called himself the champion of Ireland, she took him
by his coat collar and the seat of his trousers and threw
him over a six-rail fence, humiliating him to such an ex-
tent that he left town. It is an Indian saying that one
should never disturb a bear in a berry patch, but when
Grandmother found a bear eating blackberries in a patch
where she intended to fill her pail, she drove the animal
away and then picked the berries. Father claimed that
she could take two ordinary men by their collars and
bang their heads together. But Grandfather was no ordi-
nary man, at least not when he was bent on a bear hunt.
All that Grandmother could do, as he pulled on his cap
and took his gun from the wall, was say, "If you are deter-
mined to be so stupid and stubborn, one of the boys
should follow you, just as you do the bear, and bring your
body home when you fall dead in your tracks."
Striving to overtake a bear was always such an ab-
sorbing venture for Grandfather that he forgot all other
interests; and in this case, when he saw how large the
tracks were, he seemed to tap a reservoir of reserve
^j Bears, Bibles and a Boy
strength that carried him forward so rapidly that his com-
panion had considerable difficulty keeping up with him.
Racing through the woods, descending into deep ravines,
and circling mountains, they trailed the bear all day.
When darkness overtook them, they made their way to a
barn, crawled into the hay, and waited for the morning.
As the light of dawn enabled them to detect the bear's
footprints, the two men pressed on. They knew that the
bear was looking for winter quarters, and that he would
soon find a place to his liking. By keeping old dog Ring
on a leash and having him smell out the trail in the places
where there was no snow, their progress was rapid. The
freshness of the over-sized tracks, moreover, indicated that
their quarry could not be far ahead. In the middle of the
afternoon of that second day, as they made their way
around an overhanging cliff, they came upon the rocky
cavity for which they were looking. The excitement of
the hunters was intense. Having located their game, the
next step was to build a fire and smoke the bear out; if
this method worked they both could fire at the bear as his
head came into view. In case this strategy did not produce
the desired results, Grandfather would light a torch, crawl
into the den, and drive the occupant out. The second way
would be a last resort, for one man with only one bullet to
fire would give the bear a better chance to escape.
However, the smoke proved effective. The direction
of the wind, or a draft under the rocks, carried the smoke
for into the hidden recesses of the cave, and the bear had
to come out for air. As the men saw the outline of his
feige head they took quick aim and fired. Both bullets
lamd their mark, and the men had a f bur-hundred-pound
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 15
bear on their hands in a place far from their homes. For-
tunately, however, they had not dragged the bear very
far when they came to the cabin of a wood chopper. In
return for some bear steak, the woodsman gladly hitched
up his horses and took the hunters and their kill back to
Grandfather's house.
It was after dark when Grandmother heard the voices
of the men out in the yard. She rushed out to see if some-
one had brought her sick husband to her, and she could
hardly believe her eyes as she saw him carrying one end
of the bear, while two men carried the other end. Mixing
rebuke with affection, she exclaimed, "You dear old bear-
crazy fool, if you ever seem to be dead, I won't call the
undertaker until someone first pounds on our door and
shouts, 'Bears!' Then if you don't wake up and grab your
gun, I'll order a coffin."
When Grandfather had finished carving out some
large chunks of bear steak for the woodcutter and had
returned to the kitchen to wash his hands, he turned to
Grandmother and remarked philosophically, "Hannah,
more people die in bed than dies out of 'em. Diseases and
undertakers have a hard time overtaking a man when he's
on the trail of a bear; but I'm half-starved right now,
and your pork-and-beans smell mighty good."
Grandfather, having outdistanced the dread disease
which had invaded the community, continued his exciting
life as a hunter and trapper. When, because of the ac-
cidental discharge of a gun, he lost a leg, he hewed out a
wooden one and kept on chasing bears.
Over in the Green Mountains, Father's two uncles,
16 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
Solomon and Ichabod, also wise in the ways of bears, once
had an unexpected encounter. It happened when they
were on a mountain, gathering balsam pitch. Ichabod had
an ailment which was then known as lingering consump-
tion, and the sticky liquid from balsam blisters was mixed
with powdered alum and honey to form a cough syrup for
him. The uncles had taken their dog Major with them,
and, hearing him barking furiously, found him greatl>
agitated at the mouth of a cave on the mountainside.
Thinking that raccoon might be denning there, Uncle
Solomon suggested trying to get one or more of them for
Thanksgiving dinner. He volunteered to crawl into the
opening, while his brother was to remain on guard to
shoot the animals if they attempted to escape. Both men
were armed with ancient flintlock shotguns which were
loaded for partridge and other small game.
Bears, jBi&te^ and a Boy 17
Proceeding cautiously into the deepening gloom, Un-
cle Solomon was startled to see two eyes which apparently
belong-ed. to some huge animal. He leveled his gun and
pulled th_e trigger. There was a deafening roar and a sud-
den collision* which temporarily stunned both Uncle Solo-
mon a.ncL Major, who had been following him. The occu-
pant of the sleeping quarters was making for the exit
fullspeecl. Uncle Ichabod, hearing the noise, was stooping
down to jeer into the gloomy cavern when a large, rapidly
moving, out-coming animal knocked him sprawling.
When Uncle Solomon came out of the den, he was
alarmed to find his brother in the embrace of a huge
bear. Seizing Uncle Ichabod's gun from the ground, he
aimed to shoot the beast through the head, but the flint,
wet witLsiLOw, failed to give the necessary spark. Taking
the gun by the barrel and using it as a club, he struck
the bear with such force that the breech of the gun was
smashed; however, the blow did little damage to the bear.
In desper&tion, fearing that the commotion and pressure
might eauise his brother to have another hemorrhage,
Uncle Sol grabbed the bear by the ears and endeavored to
pull him away from his victim. At this point, good old
Major, emerging from the den and sensing the predica-
ment of his masters, attacked the bear. The bear released
the man. lie had been hugging and grappled with his new
antagonist,
Fortunately, except for being quite out of breath,
Uncle Eohabod had suffered no harm. The bear had nei-
ther mauled him with his powerful jaws nor ripped him
with, his olaws. Both men were, therefore, able to go to the
rescue of their dog. The bear, not wishing to risk a fight
Bears, Bibles and a Boy
against three, decided to retreat But Major was not fin-
ished. Catching up with the bear and biting him in the
hinder parts, he caused him to turn about.
At this point, so the story goes, the thought occurred
to one of the uncles that they might be able to drive the
bear down the mountain. Providing themselves with long,
pointed sticks, somewhat like spears, they prodded the
bear in the direction in which they wanted him to go.
Tfeey were making considerable progress in the art of
bear-driving when, as they came to a spring of water, the
bear wallowed in, lay down, and refused to move.
Realizing that two men and a dog could not induce
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 19
Mr. Bruin to leave his refreshing bath, Uncle Solomon de-
cided to go after help. He made his way to the district
schoolhouse, rushed in as if on most urgent business, and
requested assistance. He explained that his brother was
in danger of being killed by a big bear. The teacher there-
upon dismissed the older boys who, following the sugges-
tion of Uncle Solomon, ran to their homes for guns and
ropes.
When the recruited force got back to the spring
and found the bear still soaking himself in the water and
mud, they fashioned their ropes into slip nooses, attached
them to the ends of stout poles, and proceeded to prod
and pull the reluctant animal down the slope of the moun-
tain. It seemed that the men and boys were to have the
distinction of escorting a wild bear about the neighbor-
hood, but such humiliation was more than bruin could
bear. He moved along with them until they reached an
open field, but here he balked, and displayed an uncon-
querable spirit of passive resistance. When it finally be-
came clear that all the king's oxen and all the king's men
could not get the bear going again, a well-aimed bullet,
fired at close range, brought to an end the day's excite-
ment.
Many years later, when Father had finished telling
the above story to an aged Vermonter, the man replied,
'1 was one of the boys who helped to get that bear down
the mountain." As is so often the case with stories that
have been passed on by word of mouth, variations are
bound to occur. According to one version, Uncle Ichabod,
having become exhausted by his strenuous exertion, rode
2Q Bears, Bibles and a Boy
the bear part of the way down from the spring to the
clearing.
Father's own first encounter with a bear occurred
under somewhat different conditions. He had not gone
hunting on that particular day, but, with ax in hand, was
looking for an ash tree with just the right crook in it to
serve as a runner for a sled. Suddenly, as he scrutinized
various trees along his path, his attention was drawn
toward a large dark form behind some bushes a few rods
away. Before Father could climb a tree and seek safety,
an angry she-bear was coming toward him at a rush.
Father had heard from experienced guides and hun-
ters that under such curcumstances the safest procedure
for a man is to stand his ground. So he raised his ax to
defend himself, and awaited the oncoming charge. The
bear came straight toward the object of her wrath, and
when it seemed as though one more leap would bring
man and beast together, she stopped dead in a threatening
crouch. As they looked each other in the eyes, Father
dared not blink. He stared steadily at the bear and finally
in this test of nerves the human eyes prevailed. The big
bluffer turned and ran off just as rapidly as she had
charged. Thus Father saved the seat of his trousers or
more by standing firm.
THE LURE OF THE ADIRONDACK^
ICCORDING to the family record,
Father was born in Danby, Vermont on January 6, 1831.
This was during the administration of Andrew Jackson,
and was the year that Abraham Lincoln went by boat
down to New Orleans where he saw slavery in operation
and began to hate it.
Father was a twin, and was given the name Edwin,
while his brother was called Edward. His early life was
spent in the beautiful valley of the Green Mountains, be-
tween Rutland and Bennington. Like the typical people
of Vermont at that time, he attended school long enough
to learn the rudiments of reading, writing, and arithmetic,
although his love for hunting and fishing, together with
the necessary work on the farm, seriously interfered with
his education. One thing that he remembered from his fre-
quently interrupted schooling was how to compute inter-
est; and later on when his own children were in school,
21
Bears, Bibles and a Bou
2%, 7 J
he told them of his success in working out a very long
problem in compound interest.
Perhaps his knowledge of how money could increase
through interest helped to instill in him the habit of thrift,
for, as Father assisted various neighboring farmers with
their haying and wood chopping, he saved his earnings
and deposited them in the Bennington Bank. Hence when
the California gold rush occurred in 1849, he was not
tempted as others around him were to disturb his steady
habits. A bird in the hand, he thought, was worth two in
the bush. In addition, he found plenty of adventure among
his own mountains.
From the mountain peaks of Vermont, Father had
often looked toward the north and northwest where the
rugged forest-covered Adirondacks extended as far as he
oo ^^
could see. His observation, together with reports which he
had heard, indicated that trapping, hunting, and fishing
were much better up that way than in his own state.
Moreover, at the age of twenty-eight he was not married,
and was therefore free to go and come as he pleased. In
the fall of 1859, he put his personal belongings into a pack
basket, hung his powder horn at his side, shouldered his
flintlock gun, and headed for the new country. Traveling
by way of Fort Edward and Glens Falls, he proceeded
north to the ruins of Fort William Henry near Lake
George, where some of his ancestors had fought in earlier
years. After a brief inspection of the old rifle pits, stone
breastworks, and remains of the fortress, he hastened on
to Warrensburg and then along the Schroon River to
South Horicon, where he stopped for the night.
Having learned at a trading post that a lumber com-
"Bears, Bibles and a Boy 23
pany at the head of Brant Lake was cutting off the prime-
val pine, spruce, and hemlock trees and selling quarter
sections of the rough land for $300.00, Father eagerly
pushed on ten miles farther, where he bought the second
farm beyond the head of the lake. This quiet valley, bor-
dered on three sides by seven mountains in horseshoe
shape, and opening at beautiful Brant Lake, was the land
of his dreams. His one hundred and sixty acres of wood-
land contained scores of old and young sugar maples, a
trout stream, a waterfall, and a never-failing spring of
pure water. Here he could build his cabin and enjoy the
peace and riches of the wilderness.
A half-mile up the trail James Leach, who was oper-
ating a logging job, lived with his family. It seemed nat-
ural that Father, in order to add to his income from
trapping and to have a place to live while building his
own house, should take a job with Mr. Leach.
Until this time Father had never seriously considered
the advantages of married life. He had not held with
Socrates that, whether a man marries or remains a bache-
lor, he will live to regret it. He had obviously not met the
right young lady. But when he became acquainted with
Ann Eliza, the oldest of the Leach girls, and saw how
helpful she was to her mother and how kind and patient
she was with her younger brothers and sisters, he began
to understand how much richer life could be if he had a
wife like her. He even confided to Ann Eliza that her
tender and tasty baking reminded him of his mother's
bread and cakes.
There was no hasty courtship and marriage, for Ann
Eliza was then only fifteen, but it generally became clear
24 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
that wooing, as well as lumbering, was going on in that
camp. When Father came in from the hills with his knap-
sack bulging with partridges and other wild game, his
pockets also contained wintergreen berries and clear nug-
gets of spruce gum which he gave to the favored one for
such sharing as she saw fit. He was thoughtful, too, in
bringing wood to fill the box by the stove. For her part,
she took pains to repeat bits of conversation which his de-
fective hearing had missed (Father's hearing had been
severely impaired in his childhood by scarlet fever), and
she mended his clothes and darned his socks.
When Ann Eliza Leach reached the age of eighteen
and Edwin Roberts was thirty-two, they were married on
May 10, 1863. They took a brief wedding trip by horse
and buggy to visit the groom's relatives in Vermont,
where the charming bride was received as a most worthy
member of the family.
Returning from their honeymoon, and wishing to im-
press his bride with the importance of cooperation, the
young husband threw one end of a rope over the roof of
their house and instructed her to go around and pull the
rope to the ground. Since they both pulled in opposite
directions, nothing was accomplished. Calling a halt,
Father made his way to his young wife's side, and showed
her how easy it was for them to get the rope by pulling
together.
"What a good illustration!" she said. "And it will be
just perfect if you always come around to pull on my side,
as you now did.*
Soon the young couple had to face a problem more
serious than learning cooperation. The Civil War had
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 2 $
been going on for two years, and many people were so
dissatisfied with its conduct that Draft Riots had occurred
in New York City. Forgetting that in time of war it is
necessary to sacrifice some things in order to avoid the
loss of other more important things, they claimed that the
draft was interfering with their liberty. Finally, however,
it became clear that Lincoln's call for men must be an-
swered, and the men of New York State responded. Father
went to the Draft Board for his examination, expecting
that because of his deafness he would be rejected; but
the examiners, having waxed very zealous, and anticipat-
ing that Father might mortgage his farm and raise the
-j Bears, "Bibles and a Boy
$300.00 required to engage a substitute, held him for the
Draft.
It was not an easy task for Father to return home and
break the news. Plans to enlarge and improve their small
house had to be abandoned, while every effort had to be
made to raise that $300.00. There was on their farm some
medium-sized pine and spruce which they intended to
use for their own building needs. However, the young
couple concluded that it would be better to sacrifice this
lumber than to mortgage the farm. Even with this sale,
and adding the few dollars they had in hand, they would
not equal half their required payment to the government.
Fortunately, another source of income would be from
trapping. The prices offered for some kinds of raw furs
had doubled and tripled, since many of the men who had
previously supplied the market were now in the Army.
It was now the fall of the year, when pelts began to grow
prime, and Father turned to his trapping. From the tracks
he had seen along the brooks and around the lake, it was
evident that mink were unusually plentiful. To escape the
deeper snows of the north, or in quest of more abundant
food, they had moved into this sunny valley. It seemed as
if the game was seeking the trapper, for as Father tended
his trap line he frequently found a catch in every trap.
By the end of the trapping season, he had sold enough of
the soft, silky pelts to meet his draft payment.
At the end of the Civil War, more people began to
move into the Brant Lake region, making it a neighbor-
hood of ten hardy families. Four families actually lived
Jest outside the valley, but were considered part of the
ndghborhood. The honest-sounding names in themselves
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 27
reflected the pioneer spirit of America: Bolton (Thomas,
Joe and Valentine), Arthur Smith, Steward Purvee, Al-
bert Griffin, Thomas Bentley, Eleazor Davis, and Ross
(Austin and Cassius).
As each family owned a quarter-section of land, the
houses were situated approximately one-half mile apart.
A tiny schoolhouse, conveniently located to care for the
educational needs of the children, was built on a con-
necting crossroad near the lake. The nearest store was
seven miles south at the outlet of the lake, while the area
back of the surrounding mountains consisted of some fifty
thousand acres of wilderness.
The four families on our rocky road, though not
blessed with so much of the morning sunshine, were more
prolific. As though controlled by a mystic rhyme, like
"Thrice to mine, and thrice to thine, and thrice again to
make up nine/' there were nine children born in our tiny
house, and nine in each of the next two houses up the
road. The other settlers, perhaps considering the raising
of a family a mere sideline, did not do so well.
FATHER THE BEAR TRAPPER
O SUPPORT themselves on their farms,
the families of the Brant Lake region would usually
buy a cow, two or three sheep, a few hens, a pig, and a
horse or yoke of oxen. As the land was gradually cleared
for pastures and for producing hay, the herds and flocks
would be increased. Corn, potatoes, and other vegetables
were raised for one's own use, although an extra supply
of potatoes was often grown for sale to those who might
need to buy, especially to the "cottage people" who came
in the summer. Whenever a farmer could produce more
butter and eggs than his own family needed, these prod-
ucts were taken to market to be traded for other staples.
The smaller families had the advantage in bartering, since
they were more likely to have the surpluses. Wool from
the sheep was sent to the mill for carding, and later spun
into yarn on the family spinning wheel. The yarn was then
dyed red or black, and wound into balls for knitting socks
28
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 29
and mittens for the family. The melted tallow from the
sheep that were killed for food served for making candles.
Gradually a flock of sheep would increase until the owner
would have surplus wool to sell at shearing time in the
spring of the year, and also some fatted male lambs in the
middle of the summer. Income from surpluses was often
needed for paying taxes, buying clothing, flour, sugar, tea,
and similar necessities. Mortgages on farms were fre-
quently paid off from such sources of income. It is easy
to understand, therefore, why it was disastrous when black
bears began to prey on a man's sheep. If the bears were
Bears, Bibles and a Boy
not killed, they might destroy an entire flock of thirty or
forty sheep in a few weeks.
To prevent such destruction and loss, as well as to
earn the extra money that came with the bounty and the
sale of the skin, Father pursued his trapping in our sec-
tion of the Adirondacks. From 1863 to 1905 he caught one
or more bears every year. Each spring, as soon as it was
time for the bears to emerge from their dens, Father
would take a day off from farm chores to look for bear
tracks far back in the forest; and on his return home the
first question that we asked was, "Did you see any signs?"
We knew that he had examined old, decaying logs which
bears tear apart for grubs and ants, and that he had ob-
served whether or not the bulbs of the Jack-in-the-pulpits
or wild turnips, as we called them had been dug up
for food. These and other indications of the presence of
bears were quickly noticed by his trained eyes.
If you have ever sampled the fiery-tasting food which
wild turnips furnish, you do not begrudge it to bears. And
yet bears, big and little, fill their empty stomachs with
these tubers as soon as they come up in the spring. When
I was old enough to go with Father to his traps he would
sometimes pause to point out the wilted tops from which
the bulbs had been eaten.
On one occasion I was greatly interested in the marks
made by bears* teeth on a tree which leaned at a slight
angle over a bears' runway. It appeared that all the mem-
bers of the bear family had stood on their hind legs and
measured their heights with teeth marks on the bark of
the tree. There were marks made by the little bears, the
medium-sized bears, and the big bears.
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 31
While the business of trapping animals seems so re-
pulsive to us that various humane laws have been passed
to minimize suffering, there is no need for sentimental ex-
tremes in the matter. The bears were predatory animals
who killed the sheep without discrimination, often raid-
ing the pastures when the ewes were heavy with their
young, or killing the lambs cruelly and wastefully. It is
not fair to ask, "How would you like to be caught in a
trap." An unbalanced feeling of compassion for one ani-
mal temporarily in discomfort should not be allowed to
result in greater distress to other animals on which it
preys.
Both skill and patience were required to set a bear
trap the way Father did it. Generally he selected a trail
where the bear would walk through a mountain pass, or
between a tree and a large rock, and where enough earth
could be removed so that the jaws of the trap could be on
a level with the ground. Since animals travel stealthily,
wishing to make as little noise as possible, two brittle
sticks were laid across the path in a natural manner, just
far enough apart to cause a bear to step over one of them
onto the pan of the trap. Another dry stick supported the
pan, and would not bend downward or break until a
heavy weight was put upon it. This assured a catch high
enough on the animal's leg to hold, and also prevented the
trap from being sprung by smaller game.
The entire space between the open jaws of the trap
was filled in with moss and leaves. Usually Father also
pushed ferns and Jack-in-the-pulpit plants into the earth
around the trap in order to make the area look as natural
as possible. Then, to deter human beings and deer from
3 2 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
going through that particular part of the trail, he bent
small trees across the way at the right height. Care was
taken to leave no human odor. Even though bears have
such a keen sense of smell that they can detect and avoid
a poorly set trap, Father knew how to outwit them.
Hunting bears with a gun would, on the surface,
seem more humane than trapping them, but before
modern repeating rifles were invented, killing bears with
a gun was more difficult than some people might think.
It took time to reload the old muskets; while you were
engaged in this process, if your first shot had merely
wounded the animal, you might be attacked and muti-
lated, or even killed. Or the injured beast might escape,
and perhaps die a slow death.
When Father first began to trap bears he carried an
old muzzle-loading gun, which was cumbersome and
somewhat dangerous to handle. ( His father had lost a leg
as a result of the accidental discharge of just such a mus-
ket.) As soon as it was possible for Father to secure a
more modern firearm, he bought a Smith and Wesson
thirty-two caliber, fifteen-inch-barrel pistol for which he
could secure loaded cartridges and which required only a
few seconds for reloading.
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 33
While this new gun was rather light for shooting such
huge animals as bears, it had its advantages. It had the
accuracy and velocity of a rifle combined with the con-
venience of a pistol. If necessary, Father could use the
gun with one hand. In addition, it could be put in a large,
inside pocket of a coat, thus leaving one free to carry a
fishpole, traps, and other duffle. When he did not find a
bear in his traps, Father would line honeybees, look for
ginseng, and fish for trout.
Father had the good vision and quick, steady hands
that are so essential for accurate shooting. By observing
the dried skulls of bears which he had shot, he learned the
vulnerable places at which to aim, and could usually dis-
patch a bear with a single bullet.
Killing a bear in a trap was not always as simple as it
is to tell about it. The chain of a bear trap was not fas-
tened to any stationary object, but to some small, tough
tree which had been cut down and stuck lightly into the
ground near the trap. If available, Father preferred a
short beech tree of from three to four inches in diameter
at the butt end. This tree served as a clog or hindrance
which would not hold too solidly and cause the chain to
break when a bear began his first lunging efforts to escape
from the trap, but which would restrain him enough to
tire him gradually. Usually as the bear dragged the clog it
would catch on a root or tree before he moved very far;
but sometimes both trap and clog would be dragged so
far that a careful search had to be made for the impeded
animal.
While searching for a bear that had dragged a trap
34 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
away was always an exciting experience, it was even more
exciting to find a bear unhitched, for then he might
charge his pursuer. On one occasion Father came upon a
large bear that had just got into his trap and was thrash-
ing about so violently that it was impossible to stop him
with a single shot. The bullet found its mark in the mas-
sive, bobbing black head, but the wound did not bring
immediate death. Instead of falling to the ground, the
bear made a mad rush at Father, who was reloading his
gun and, incidentally, retreating to gain time. One more
leap and the cruel jaws and powerful claws would have
torn human flesh as they had previously torn helpless
sheep; but reloading this new gun took only a fraction of
the time that was formerly required to ram powder and
ball down the barrel of the old muzzle-loader. Father
turned, and with hands which never trembled leveled the
pistol and fired. This time powder scorched the coarse fur
right between the angry-looking eyes, and another bear
had killed his last sheep.
I recall the first time that I accompanied Father to a
trap that had a large bear in it. The pistol was handed to
me for the execution. While both my older brothers were
crack shots, I had never had much practice with a gun
and my hands were so shaky that I continually missefc
Father remarked that if I was going to waste ammunition
we might have to finish the bear off with a club. Such a
person-to-bear encounter did not appeal to me, and I
gladly returned the gun to the one who knew how to
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 35
handle it so much better than I did. With one bullet the
big bear fell stone-dead. I must admit that I never again
attempted to win the honor of becoming a great bear
hunter.
THE POWER OF A BOOK
\ LTHOUGH he had lived a good moral
life before his marriage, Father had never paid much
attention to religion. He had heard people argue about
the Bible, and he knew that the various denominations
had been formed because of differences in beliefs, but
none of these things had particularly troubled him. So
far as he could see, he was as good as most church
members were. Two factors delivered him from his con-
ceit. One was the beautiful girl whom he had married,
and the other was the Bible. It is surely not good for man
to live alone, if he can have the love and companionship
of a virtuous woman. Father was fortunate in his mar-
riage, for Mother was a most wholesome Christian. She
read her Bible daily and lived it in her gentle, unpreten-
tious way. One day when Father went to the store for
supplies he purchased a small, inexpensive copy of the
Bible for his own use. He had heard of a spirited young
36
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 37
evangelist named D. L. Moody who was preaching from
the Bible to large audiences; and he knew that Abraham
Lincoln had read the Bible, and had frequently quoted
from it in his speeches. He decided, therefore, to examine
the book for himself; and to be thorough about the matter,
he began his readings at the very first chapter of Genesis.
Not having had many grades of schooling, Father was
a slow reader. He had to pause to grasp the meaning of
sentences, and often halted as he attempted to pronounce
some of the Biblical names. Mother could read much bet-
ter, but because of Father's poor hearing it was agreed
that he should do the reading, so that they could enjoy
the stories together. They began at the first chapter of the
Old Testament, and from the verse, "In the beginning,
God created the heaven and the earth," they proceeded
from chapter to chapter and book to book. They read one
chapter immediately after breakfast and a second right
after supper.
Since Father was unusually strong, and had wrestled
with the boys in his youth, he was especially interested
in the stories of mighty men, men who overcame great
difficulties. He was spellbound by the account of Noah
who built himself an ark and outrode the flood; of Abra-
ham who, like himself, left the land of his fathers and
dwelt in a new country; and of Jacob who, having fled
from his angry brother, found romance and prosperity.
The nocturnal wrestling match between Jacob and the
mysterious stranger was read with rapt attention. The
trick of getting a man on your hip and throwing him was
well known, but how could Jacob, with a hip out of joint,
, Bears, Bibles and a Boy
hold out until hie gained his blessing? Surely, there was a
man of steel.
Reading on through one fascinating story after an-
other, and because of the way in which God related Him-
self to all the characters and events, it became increas-
ingly clear to Father that the Bible was no ordinary
history or volume of literature. Moses, though powerful
enough to knock a cruel Egyptian into perpetual uncon-
sciousness and put to flight a band of rude shepherds
singlehanded, was utterly unable to deliver his people
from bondage until after he had met God at the Burning
Bush, And there was the spellbinding story of long-haired
Samson, who killed a lion with his hands; and, armed with
the jawbone of an ass, slaughtered a thousand Philistines
but finally came to a tragic end because of a broken vow.
As the ways of God were expressed through the beau-
tiful Psalms, the teaching of mighty prophets, and the
matchless words of the Master, the seed found a place of
growth in good soil. Father became an ardent lover of the
Bible and of the God who inspired those who wrote it.
One Sunday morning, while he was absorbed in reading
the Sermon on the Mount, the room in which he was sit-
ting was suddenly filled with a light more dazzling than
that of the sun. The glow that penetrated that simple
room with its cooking pots, water jugs, and traps hang-
Ing on the wall could not be explained, nor did it need to
be. From that moment on, no urgency of work on the
farm, and no call of the forest to go after bears was ever
permitted to interfere with Father s systematic habit of
reading from The Book and kneeling afterward in prayer.
Day after day, and year after year, family worship was
Bears, Bibles and a Boy $g
held in our home, until eventually the Bible was read
from cover to cover thirty-five times. Father became as
noted for his knowledge of the Bible as he was for his
skill in catching bears. Like Nimrod of old, "He was a
mighty hunter before the Lord/'
Father was known also for his integrity and stability.
In these respects, some people thought that he carried
his rules of righteousness too far. He would never draw
hay into the barn on Sunday, even to keep it from getting
wet, nor would he gather sap on that day, even though
the buckets were running over. He preferred to read his
Bible, or to walk long miles to some church, keeping the
Lord's Day as he felt the commandment indicated he
should. He found special pleasure in expounding the
scriptures to people, and when he went to market he in-
dulged in this joy so fervently with some of his friends
and neighbors that he often returned home long after
dark. At times Mother worried when she had his supper
ready and he did not get back as soon as she thought he
should. She would open the front door, and listen for the
familiar rumble of the heavy cart wheels on the bridges
down the road.
Some people who did not know the Bible very well,
and held contrary ideas about its teachings, would get
provoked at Father, claiming that he liked to argue. Ac-
tually, he merely wished to explain what the debatable
subjects meant to him. In such circumstances it is natural
for us to behave like the Quaker and his wife who were
having a firm discussion about a difference of opinion.
Turning from reason to abuse, he said: "Thou art stub-
born." She replied: "Nay, nay, but thou art stubborn. I
JQ Bears, Bibles and a Boy
am just strong-minded/' It has been said that the only
people who accomplish anything are those who are cock-
sure that they are right. To be fair, when we claim the
right to think for ourselves, we should grant the same
privilege to others who may think somewhat differently
from us.
Fathers inflexible habit of reading a full chapter
from the Bible and following this with a substantial
prayer of thanksgiving and supplication after breakfast,
and again after supper, seemed at times too rigid; but it
was probably better to keep first things first, rather than
to become lax about them. Anyway, I never heard Mother
complain because of the rest periods after meals, and none
of us ever missed a train because of them.
Some people have the mistaken idea that when a per-
son starts to become a Christian, his future life should be
free from trouble and trial. On the contrary, when one
takes a firm stand for truth and righteousness in any form
he soon finds himself enlisted in warfare against strong
and ruthless enemies. Victories can be won only through
conflict; character achieved by overcoming obstacles and
learning to be kind as well as brave. It is disastrous if one
allows himself to become discouraged by mistakes, for
mistakes can also teach valuable lessons. Early in his new
life Father had a severe testing which came about from
the fact that he was so strong for a man of his size.
It happened while he was working on a lumber job.
Frequently, during the long winter months, the farmers
at Brant Lake could earn many extra dollars by hitching
up their teams and drawing logs from the rough country
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 41
north of us. Since Father had a strong yoke of oxen and
a sturdy sled, he sometimes engaged in logging after the
trapping season had ended. During the first winter that he
did this work it soon became apparent to the other team-
sters that Father must be unusually powerful to be able
to load up and unload the heaviest logs so easily and
quickly. The men talked about it, just as others in haying
time had spoken of his large forksful of hay.
On the logging job there was a man by the name of
Jack Turner, who was also noted for his strength, and he
resented the praise that was going to the little man Rob-
erts. Turner was a taller and heavier man, built like a
halfback. Jack was known to drink a bit and when he
drank he sometimes got in fights; and in every fight he
was an easy winner. The more he heard about what Ed
Roberts could do with logs, the more irked he became,
and the more he longed for a chance to prove that he was
still the local strong man. He was contemptuous of the
serious young farmer with the black whiskers, and looked
for an opportunity to put him in his place. Turner would
block the road when he met Father, and refuse to turn
out, even though his own sled was empty and Father had
a heavy load of logs. And Father, who was a man of
peace, would turn out in the deep snow to let him pass.
A bully, of course, interprets such action as a sign of
weakness, and continues his insulting behavior with
greater boldness. The showdown came a few days later.
Before telling about this, however, it might be well to
explain just how Father came by his remarkable strength.
Back in Vermont, Father had lived a wholesome,
clean life. While he held no particular scruples because of
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 43
religious convictions at this time, his observations had
convinced him of the moral value of temperate behavior.
He believed in the goodness of natural things, so that
when other men drank liquor to relax after a hard day in
the hay fields, Father drank milk. Instead of carrying a
plug of tobacco, he carried a cake of maple sugar. In basic
strength he took after his mother, whose extraordinary
physical feats have been mentioned. I have heard Father
say that he did not know what people meant when they
spoke of being tired. He could mow and pitch hay all day,
and still feel like Samson as he wrestled with his boyhood
friends in the evening. Once, after he had helped a husky
Irishman do his haying and was about to be paid for his
labor, the man said, "Eddie, before paying a man what I
owe him, I always lay his shoulders on the ground."
"All right," Father replied, and squared himself for
the encounter. When the two men had finished wrestling,
the farmer's wife chided, "I would be ashamed to let a
man no bigger than a sheep throw me around like that"
At another time, when Father was attending a coun-
try fair, he was persuaded by his friends to try wrestling
with Hi Jinks, who was said to be the champion wrestler
of Vermont. Father was not eager to have a bout with a
man who was giving exhibitions of the wrestling art, but
his friends urged him on. Three times in succession Father
pinned the shoulders of his opponent to the ground. Hi
Jinks was so chagrined when he got up the third time that
he struck at Father, but the blow was deftly turned aside,
and Jinks himself got one that knocked him flat. Father
later said that he must have struck instinctively in self-
*j Bears, Bibles and a Boy
defense, for that was the only time in his life that he ever
hit a man with his fist.
When Father settled down to the serious work of
clearing his land and providing for his family, he left the
sport of wrestling to the younger generation. Only once
did he resort to the fun that he had formerly enjoyed.
This took place when a merchant who was expert in han-
dling barrels of flour unexpectedly put his arms around
Father from behind, as if to lift him, then pulled him
down on his back and boasted, "Roberts, this is the way
I down the boys." When my humiliated father regained
his feet amid the laughing onlookers, he replied, "I'll show
you how I do it." Catching the trader by the lapels of his
coat, he gave him a quick yank forward, swung his feet
completely over the counter, and brought his shoulders
to the floor.
Father's build did not make him appear very formi-
dable. He was only five-feet-seven-inches tall, and carried
no superflous flesh. His legs were round, small, and hard
from climbing the mountain trails and working in the
fields. His chest was solid and compact; his arms sinewy
and long. Although he did not look it, his weight was close
to one hundred and sixty pounds. It was no wonder that
Jack Turner considered him an easy mark and itched to
fight him. Turner heaped abuse after abuse upon him, and
boasted to others that he would knock off Father's whisk-
ers if he ever gave him the slightest provocation.
Things came to a head one night when Father came
into the lumber shanty a little late for supper. The other
men, having satisfied their appetites, had pushed back
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 45
their benches and begun smoking their pipes, talking and
joking with each other. When Father had finished eating,
he looked about for a place to sit. The only vacancy was
next to the man who wanted to put him in his place.
Father started for that seat but as he approached it,
Turner sprawled out to block the way.
This was the last straw. Without comment Father
caught Jack Turner by his coat collar and one leg, spun
him around and sent him sprawling and rolling across the
floor as though he were a cull log. Quietly Father asked:
"Do you want some more?"
The challenge was not accepted. The men on the
benches quickly moved aside until there was plenty of
room for Father to sit down. After that the black-bearded,
Bible-reading bear trapper was accorded due respect.
THIS IS THE WAY IT WAS
*XN
N THE early days among the mountains
the settlers found that the quickest and least expensive
way to build a house was to make it out of logs, very
much after the pattern of a lumber camp. The three
houses up the road from our place were built that way;
but Father, who knew some of the rudiments of carpen-
try, constructed his house on more modern lines. It was
a frame house, with upright studding to which wide pine
boards, called sheathing, were nailed. Since commercial
insulation material was not available, the bark from white
birch trees was tacked on the outer surface of the sheath-
ing, and clapboards were nailed over all.
Following the birth of their first child, Alice May, in
1864, a new daughter arrived in the Roberts* home about
every two years, until by January, 1875, there were five
little girls Alice, Anna, Antha, Cordelia, and Clara. They
were taught to sit very still while the Bible was being
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 47
read, and to kneel on the hard floor for the prayer that
followed. As they grew, they helped their mother churn
the butter, dry the dishes, and wind into balls the yarn
that she spun for their socks and mittens. It was a special
joy to them when they could pet a new calf, or feed a
little lamb. The girls became greatly interested in climb-
ing the stairs to the attic whenever their father was skin-
ning the many fur-bearers which he had caught. Once,
when -Cordie saw him take a new-born baby into his
arms, she asked, "Are you going to skin it?"
In the orchard the girls had a wee house for the tiny
wrens who always found their way back from the south
land after the long, cold winters. The five little girls must
have made a pretty picture as, with red cheeks and danc-
ing eyes, they ran about in perfect harmony with the sun-
shine, fresh air, and blossoming trees of their mountain
farm.
Our type of house is now called Cape Cod, the up-
,o Bears, Bibles and a Boy
stairs of which is often finished off for dormitory pur-
poses. Ours was never completed, but served for sleeping
quarters just the same. Curtains were used, instead of
more durable material, to give privacy, but, as in the
lumber camps, there was always room for another mat-
tress to accommodate company or an addition to the
family. We had one bedroom downstairs and in the living
room there was a double bed, under which was a trundle
bed for the youngest member of the family.
A big chimney, made of rock from our fields and
creek, dominated one end of the main living room. The
huge fireplace was used for cooking and warmth, and also
provided light and heat for the skinning and curing of
pelts on cold winter nights. Later Father bought an iron,
woodburning stove which made cooking much easier for
Mother and my sisters.
Along one wall of the big room Father hung his as-
sortment of traps and gear, always kept in good repair
and among our most valued possessions. His guns were
near the door, as well as the strong leash he sometimes
used on the dogs when he went to track a bear. There
were pegs for our knitted caps and mittens, and for the
warm coats lined with our own sheepskin.
After 1875 there were four more additions to the
Roberts household, three boys John, Ruel, and myself
and baby sister Eliza. We three boys slept in the loft up-
stairs, which was reached by a crude, narrow stairway
as steep as a ladder. We had little furniture, but we had
deep mattresses of straw or cornhusk ticking, and we
shared an assortment of gray homespun blankets which
Mother made from the wool of our own sheep. In a cor-
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 49
ner of the second floor the furs, stretched on boards suit-
able for the various sizes of the pelts, were hung to dry
with the flesh side out. The bear skins were tacked up on
the inside of the barn.
Bathtubs were unknown to us, and the old galvanized
washtub, filled with water heated on the back of the
kitchen stove, had to serve for washing our clothes and
those who wore them. Although some people in our area
firmly believed that baths were a curse of the devil, our
parents held with John Wesley that cleanliness was next
to godliness. As it was, our baths were apt to be hasty,
rather dampening affairs, and like most children the
world over, we never quarreled over who was to have
priority for a bath.
Our house managed to shelter us all, and no one
ever had to go to the barn to sleep on the hay. As Noah
found room for all the animals in the ark, so our small
house, twenty-four feet by twenty-two, stretched to ac-
commodate eleven humans, with a place behind the stove
for our faithful dog.
Our farm bore distinctive marks of an interesting
past. On four flat sections along the brook were the re-
Bears, Bibles and a Boy
mains of beaver dams. With no knowledge of conserva-
tion, greedy trappers had exterminated all the beavers
before Father had bought the property. Fortunately for
all of us, the stream was full of large trout which it took
only a few minutes to transfer from deep pools to the
dinner table. No wonder that the Roberts boys became
ardent and expert fishermen.
About a quarter of a mile up the road was a crystal-
clear spring of cold water which never diminished in vol-
ume, but bubbled up summer and winter. Since our
property had no underground piping, we children substi-
tuted as carriers to bring the water to the house. We had
small shoulder yokes which Father had fashioned for us,
and these made it easier to balance a load and carry two
pails at a time. The spring was near our hayfield, and a
gourd or tin dipper was usually handy when we came to
quench our thirst. Father taught us all at an early age
never to drink directly from a pool or stream, in case we
might accidentally drink up some frog's eggs or other
foreign matter. Neighbors also came to drink at our
spring, and to fill their jugs with this splendid water.
A marvel which I never heard explained was the
large number of giant maples which stood in our sugar
grove. Many of these lordly trees were three feet in diam-
eter, and, towering into the sky sixty feet and more, pro-
vided favorite observation points for hawks and eagles
who knew that we kept tasty hens and chickens. One by
one these trees, some of them pin or curly maple, so
desired for furniture, grew old and died. We had hun-
dreds of regular sugar maples from ten to eighteen inches
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 51
in diameter, but there was a missing link between these
and the great, old trees.
For the rugged work on his farm, such as plowing
among rocks and roots, driving through the deep snow to
gather sap, and drawing in wood and hay, Father pre-
ferred oxen to horses. Yoking oxen to a sled or cart was
less complicated, and the equipment much more eco-
nomical to make and maintain. A farmer could build a
sled, and nearly all of a cart, out of timber from his own
trees. With oxen he could drive his team without reins.
To turn a well-trained yoke of oxen to the right, the
word "gee" was the signal, while '"haw" meant a left turn.
"Whoa" was used to bring oxen to a stop, just as it is for
horses. One man up our way even tried this order on his
new Model T Ford when it headed down a bank, but in
this case the magic word failed.
Strangely enough, the sound "hush," which we make
to silence noisy children, was Father's way of accelerating
the speed of his oxen. At the Pottersville Fair, when he
was persuaded to enter the ox race, Father took his place
between his oxen, grasped the metal ring in the yoke, and
said, "hush." His faithful beasts must have understood
that they were to run like the wind, for they came in to
win first prize.
On stormy days, Father found plenty of work to do
inside the house. He resoled our boots and shoes, and
made moccasins out of sheep skins which he had had
tanned. For his three sons and himself, he made sheep-
skin mittens, with the wool on the outside. It was natural
for us to think of these as boxing gloves, and we used
-2 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
them for sparring among ourselves as well as for keeping
our hands warm. In zero weather Father would put on
home-knitted socks, his handmade moccasins, and then
low rubber boots. He made his short overcoats from
bearskins and sometimes wore a coonskin cap. This made
for a picturesque and formidable outfit, but it was effec-
tive against the penetrating winter blasts that seemed to
come direct to us from the North Pole.
Mother spun the yarn on her large wheel, and knitted
all our socks and mittens until my sisters were old enough
to learn how to help. Cloth for making our clothing was
bought at the general store in Horicon. The first ready-
made suit that I had was provided by my sisters when I
started away to school in my teens. Otherwise, I was very
much like the young Billy Sunday who, when told that
he could report for work as soon as he went home and got
his clothes, replied, "I've got 'em onl"
The food at our house, as in other mountain com-
munities, consisted of plain essentials bread, potatoes,
johnnycake, pork, eggs, fish and game. Because of Father's
skill and also the fact that my brothers were such good
shots, we consumed more fish and game than neighboring
families. Our sausage, made with sage which Mother
grew in our backyard, was exceptionally tasty, and so
were the hams which we smoked with hickory and corn-
cobs.
In addition to the everyday foods, we ate cabbage,
carrots, turnips and squash, which would keep indefi-
nitely through the winter months in our cold-cellar. For
dessert we enjoyed pumpkin, apple, rhubarb and berry
pies, and the superb wild-strawberry shortcakes in season.
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 53
These were spread over with the berries, cream and
grated maple sugar. Sandwiches also had the grated
sugar between two thick slices of homemade bread.
Brown sugar is well known as a sweetening, but grated
maple sugar is in a class by itself, and not so well known.
We did not have oatmeal and similar cereals in my young
days, but breakfast often included pancakes with maple
syrup and honey, and at times we were like the boy who
said that he kept eating pancakes until he felt a pain
then ate one more to make sure. This plain, country fare
must have been healthful, for all the farmers who lived in
our valley reached the age of fourscore years, and not one
of them ever had an operation.
Incidentally, I did not have my first taste of ice cream
until I went off to school at the Glens Falls Academy.
Not storing ice, and with no freezer, we never made ice
cream at the farm. And I never saw a locomotive until I
was almost grown, although from a distance of eighteen
miles we could hear the train whistle when the wind was
right. We were back-country people and seldom got far-
ther away from home than the general store at the place
now known as Brant Lake, seven miles from our house.
THE GHOST OF THE FOREST
THERE have been haunted houses,
so there have been haunted hills and woodlands. Even
our own house was at times a place of strange noises. By
rapping on the walls, spooky squeaking and scratching
could be produced. We knew that sometimes bats found
shelter behind the boards and would emerge at night to
keep the mosquito population down to a minimum. Back
among the mountains, however, there once lived an un-
usual creature who was entitled to serious consideration.
From time to time on dark nights, and occasionally in the
pale moonlight, the mysterious object became visible to
human eyes. It even walked upright like a human being.
One farmer, awakened by the furious barking of his
dog, claimed that he saw among his frightened flock a
white form several times larger than any of his sheep.
When he took his gun and dog to investigate, the noc-
turnal apparition vanished into the shadows of the forest.
54
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 55
Another neighbor, on hearing a commotion in his pasture,
declared that in the fading twilight he beheld a tall,
white-robed man walking away, carrying a sheep in his
arms. Other men from neighboring farms had similar
stories to tell. The rumor grew that some gigantic man,
wrapped in a sheet, was stealing from the flocks.
Father had been called on for help, but all he had
been able to find were the tracks of an exceptionally large
bear and the fragments of partially devoured sheep. The
fact was that Father had had unusually poor luck with his
trapping that spring. Frequently he had found his traps
sprung or turned upside down, as if someone were play-
ing pranks on him. He wondered who could be following
him around in the deep recesses of the swamps and
woods. Finally the bear-trapping season for that year had
been terminated by the warm weather of July, when pelts
were no longer prime. Even though the bears would have
thick, shiny coats again in the late fall, it was not con-
sidered wise to trap them then, when hunters would be
wandering through the forest looking for other game.
However, in the early winter, when fresh snows would
again reveal the trails of animals, a rousing bear hunt was
always eagerly anticipated.
In late December, therefore, when the leaves had
fallen and were covered with a few inches of soft snow,
Father took long hikes among the mountains, looking for
the footprints of the elusive killer. On one of these trips
he saw large bear tracks which disappeared at the mouth
of a cave on Hague Mountain. The bear had taken up
winter quarters where he would slumber peacefully, un-
less molested, until spring. As a matter of fact, the tracks
rQ Bears, Bibles and a Boy
suggested the possibility of two bears within the cave.
With two brothers-in-law, Asa and Jay Leach, to
help, Father built a smoke fire in the opening of the den.
By waving their jackets, the men tried to force the fumes
under the ledges into the den, but this strategy proved
unsuccessful. The animals' sleeping quarters were either
too far within the side of the mountain, or else the smoke
was carried away through a vertical fissure in the protect-
ing rock strata of the cave. Eventually, it became evident
that a more daring procedure would be required. One of
the men would have to crawl into the den and attempt
to drive the occupant out. Uncle Jay, a fearless young
man who had climbed down precipices in search of
eagles' eggs, should have offered his services for this risky
venture, but his courage failed him at this time. One bear,
he thought, might not be so formidable; but if there
should be more than one, he did not relish the task of
incurring their ire. As a last resort, Father offered to
undertake the dangerous business.
Flashlights had not then been invented, and since
no one had brought a candle or a lantern, a torch had to
be made out of a pitch-pine knot. With this in hand,
sputtering and smoking at the end of a long stick, Father
proceeded into the low-vaulted cavern. Except for his
long-bladed skinning knife, he was unarmed. His task was
to drive the bear, or bears, into the open, so that his wait-
ing companions could get a chance to shoot.
His progress from the entrance to the roomy section
of the cave was so slow that the torch had to be relighted
and adjusted with additional pieces of white birch bark,
and it began to appear that, unless the objective could
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 57
soon be reached, total darkness would engulf him in this
risky spot. Father had just lighted his last roll of bark
and was holding it aloft for a better chance to see when
he beheld a startling sight. Crouched in front of him,
watching with fierce, fiery eyes, were three bears, the
largest of which was as white as a sheep.
Knowing that the element of surprise was his most
effective weapon at this point, and holding his knife in
readiness while hugging the side of the passage, Father
waved his torch and shouted. A fight was not necessary.
Confused by the gleaming torch and the booming voice,
the bears rushed past their unwelcome intruder and made
for the exit. Father turned to follow them, but since he
was on hands and knees and the light had burned out,
the way was slow-going.
On reaching the light of day again, he found two
tremendously excited and chagrined companions, but no
dead bears. The unexpected appearance of the white
mystery bear was enough to startle the boldest hunter,
and did, indeed, cause the watching brothers to pause
until the bears were well in the open. When the old
muzzle-loading guns were finally raised for action, one
of them misfired, and the other failed to hits its mark.
The ghost of the mountains was still at large.
The story the boys told of the white bear was re-
ceived with skepticism and good-natured ridicule. Albinos
with their pink eyes may appear in any animal family,
but no one in that region had ever heard of a white
member of the black bear species. It seemed extremely
doubtful that a polar bear would stray so far from his
icy, northern environment, and at that time there was no
- Bears, Bibles and a Boy
record in our area of the rare white bears that live on
Gribble Island near British Columbia. Hence, the men
who claimed that they had seen such a freak brought on
themselves much banter and derision. They were advised
not to get so much smoke in their eyes, and warned to
hold off on drinking hard cider before another bear hunt.
During the following spring, however, when Father's
traps were skillfully set and baited with honey and fish,
the white bear was caught. The laugh was now on the
other side. People came from all around to see the white
bearskin, and to hear Father tell the story of the "ghost
bear."
While it may seem to us that a museum or some
naturalist would have been eager to secure such a rare
specimen, eighty years ago no one was sufficiently inter-
ested to make an adequate offer for this unusual pelt
After having it tanned, Father kept it for many years.
Every summer, when city folk vacationed at Brant Lake,
many of them came to our house to see the skin of the
white bkck bear.
I had not yet arrived in my pinkish bare skin when
this adventure occurred, but later, when the hoary show-
piece was stored on a shelf in our loft, I suffered many a
fearful nightmare, due to the fact that my bed was near
this spookish object As I slept on my straw mattress on
the floor, the wraith would seem to come after me in hot
pursuit In fact, at one point the dread thing did come
alive, for bumblebees, finding their way into the attic,
made their home in the folds of this repulsive bundle.
Believe me when I say that I shed no tears when the
remains of that ghastly bear were taken into the garden
Bears, Bibles and a Bay 59
and burned. Let me say, in concluding this story, that
apparitions are at times difficult to dispel. A year or so
after the white bear had been caught, Father and one of
my older sisters both saw, high on the northern ledges
of a mountain, a perfect duplicate of the ghost bear. This
second one, perhaps a twin of the one that had caused all
the excitement, was never seen again.
FATHER AND PRINCE
BECAUSE of the danger involved in
settling accounts with these killers of the forest, Mother
urged Father to get a dog whom he could train to help
him, just as his father had done back in Vermont. More-
over, there were now little children in the family who
would be delighted to have a puppy. So on one of his
return trips from the Schroon Lake region, Father carried
in his pack basket a playful, black-and-brown puppy that
had been bred from Shepherd and other strains for a bear
dog. His name was Prince, a worthy name for a very
splendid dog.
Prince grew and developed rapidly on the farm, and
soon became helpful in going after the sheep and cattle
when it was time to bring them from the pasture to the
barnyard. When his master was busy with the fanning,
Prince found plenty of diversion in stalking woodchucks
and keeping rabbits and squirrels out of our garden. In
60
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 61
the fall he was trained to hunt raccoon, a task in which
he took great delight. Many raccoon skins were stretched
to dry in our attic because Prince had chased these corn-
stealing animals up trees so that they could be shot. As
he matured he had more difficult duties to perform, and
one of the first was in connection with an enormous bear
whom I think of as Old Yellow Tusk.
Farmers whose pasture lands bordered the mountains
were distressed because their sheep were being killed or
badly torn. Armed with their shotguns they had watched
for the return of the killer, who always seemed to come
around when and where he was least expected, and also
when it was too dark to aim at him. As usual, after the
owners of the sheep had failed to kill the bear themselves,
they asked Father to help them. Whether he was plowing
or planting, Father was never too busy to go after a
destructive bear.
Careful inspection of the gigantic tracks indicated
that this bear must be an unusually large one, so an extra-
strong trap was set back in the woods, where a sheep had
been dragged and partially devoured. Even though the
trap was carefully set under leaves and moss, with por-
tions of the hapless sheep hung above, it remained undis-
turbed. Evidently the wary thief considered fresh mutton
from another pasture more exciting adventure, and less
risky.
A trap was then set farther back in a mountain pass
where bears were known to travel. By using two small
sticks, Jack-in-the-pulpits and small ferns were moved
and set in the earth between the jaws of the trap. In spite
of this careful effort to avoid suspicion and all traces of
62 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
human scent, the trap was found upside down and the
tuber of the wild turnip no longer there. The bear may
have had his toes pinched by some other trap, and was
wise to the slightest odor of concealed iron and steel.
Another ruse known to trappers was next used. Fish
and honeycomb were put on branches of trees along the
runway, first where there was no trap, and then where
there was one. This bait was high enough to make a bear
walk on his hind legs to reach it, and also would get his
nose away from the scent which he feared. Success re-
sulted from this strategy, for Old Yellow Tusk, finding a
tasty lunch along his way, became careless. Evidently he
did not even feel the give under his foot until the brittle
stick which supported the pan of the trap suddenly broke
under his weight, causing the jaws of the trap to close.
Undoubtedly the big bear was not only painfully sur-
prised, but also resentful at having been outwitted. When
he had made a few attempts to free himself, only to find
that a sturdy beech clog was slowing his movement, he
turned to the impediment and chewed it until the chain
slipped off the end of the clog, enabling him to make his
way through the woods at a more rapid pace.
A few hours later when Father arrived at the scene
and observed how the earth and small trees had been
torn up and the clog demolished, he was greatly excited.
He began to follow the well-marked trail along which
the trap had been dragged, and from previous experience
knew that he might have to travel a long way to overtake
the escaping animal He recalled times when he had been
able to find the broken trap, but no bear. Presently it was
evident that he was to have more of this same poor luck,
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 63
for, caught on a protruding knot of a fallen tree, he came
upon the badly twisted trap from which the strong, bony
leg had been pulled, leaving only some black, coarse hair.
The pursuit of this most- wanted criminal of the hills
might have ended right there had Prince not been
brought along for training as a bear dog. Prince was most
eager to follow the tracks which he could smell so easily,
and since this was good schooling for a dog his master
decided to go on as long as daylight would permit. A few
miles away, in a gloomy swamp of balsam and cedar
trees, their quarry had lain down to rest. It was here that
the pursued and the pursuers finally met.
A low growl from Prince gave warning that Father
should proceed with caution, with his pistol held in readi-
ness. The situation was one of real danger, for as experi-
enced hunters know, to stop a charging bear one needs
to be armed with a heavy-caliber rifle, a .30-30, or .30-6.
While I am not sure whether the pistol used on this occa-
sion was the Smith and Wesson, or the Stevens for which
the first had been traded, I know that the gun which
Father used during the seventies and at the time of his
encounter with this huge bear was a 32-caliber, single-
shot firearm. It had a skeleton breech which could be held
against one's shoulder, but this attachment was never
used. Father preferred to steady the pistol with his two
hands. However, as he made his way into the swamp he
was holding it with one hand, and gripping Prince's leash
with the other.
Now, although wind from a threatening storm was
bending the treetops, the bear must have heard Prince's
menacing growl, for suddenly his massive head appeared
64 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
above some bushes not more than fifty yards away. Drop-
ping the leash, Father took quick aim and fired. The
bullet landed a little too high on the forehead. Instead of
penetrating the brain and paralyzing the beast, the shot
served only to infuriate him. With a hideous snort he
turned toward his pursuers, and because a jammed shell
delayed the reloading of the pistol, it seemed that he
would surely have his revenge. A small man, a tiny gun,
and an inexperienced dog were no match for six hundred
pounds of charging fury.
To gain time Father started to dodge behind some
small trees, but apparently he was too late. With menac-
ing tusks and claws, the largest bear that he had ever
seen was already coming down upon him. In a flash, he
thought of his wife and children who would be waiting
\
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 65
for him to return home, and he remembered the Good
Shepherd in whom he trusted.
Call it a miracle, or what you will, but at this mo-
ment Prince leaped at the bear and began to bite him in
his hind parts. The bear's powerful paws seized the dog
in a hug of death. Then, as one good turn deserves an-
other, Father held the muzzle of the pistol close to the
bear's head, just back of his ear, and a bullet went clear
through his head, leaving him limp, and still as a fallen
tree.
Although this initiation of Prince as a bear dog was
a rough one, he came through it with glory, and without
a scratch. He did have a temporary limp, but as he
smelled the carcass of the bear while the shiny black pelt
was being deftly removed, he quickly recovered from it,
and was soon as spry as ever. When the heavy, fatty skin
was at length adjusted on Father's strong shoulders, and
man and dog turned homeward, Prince pranced about in
great delight, as though to proclaim it a wonderful day.
It was long after dark when Mother, who had be-
come quite apprehensive, heard Prince scratching on the
back door to announce the return of the hunters. Her
fears were soon dispelled when she saw his rapturous
excitement *as he rushed in. Presently she saw her hus-
band emerging from the darkness, laden with a pack as
large as those of the country peddlers, and she heard him
announce, Tve got him!"
Our neighbors and their sheep could once more sleep
in peace. For years afterward on a heap of stones back
of our house, there were two large bear skulls. The first
had a single penetration, while the second had two, one
QQ Bears, Bibles and a Boy
in the forehead where it had been made a little too high
for immediate results, the second indicating that a bullet
had crashed all the way through both sides. As a small
boy I often played around that stone heap and saw the
skulls. And in a basket of souvenirs which Father kept
on the top pantry shelf was a discolored tusk which he
had once seen too close to his face for comfort. This
fearsome relic, which I frequently handled as a lad, sug-
gested the name Old Yellow Tusk.
To provide food and clothing for his growing family,
Father found it necessary to extend his traplines farther
north, and to be away from home sometimes two weeks
at a time. These trips were made in the fall and spring,
when the weather was often cold and stormy. Father
frequently found shelter in an abandoned shanty formerly
used by lumbermen. When such comforts could not be
found, he would camp in a cave on the mountain side, or
find an overhanging ledge. With a bough bed, his skins
to sleep on, and a glowing fire, he would be quite snug.
Sometimes, however, he encountered dangers which
threatened to prevent him from ever returning home
alive. One of these, a particularly close call, occurred
when Father fell through the ice of the Boreas River,
where the country is mountainous and isolated.
There had been a thaw in the early part of March,
and so much of the snow had melted that it was a good
time for Father to set out a line of traps far up under the
highest peaks of the Adirondacks, near Hoffman Moun-
tain and Mt. Marcy. Taking Prince with him, Father left
home long before daylight, and by nine that evening he
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 67
was at the trapping grounds. The next day he set his
traps, cut some firewood with his hatchet, and made his
camp as comfortable as possible. During the night, the
weather changed to an intense cold that froze up not
only the smaller streams but also the Boreas River. As
is so often the case in the mountains, the sudden cold
weather was followed by a driving snowstorm.
As Father continued making his rounds, he saw that
a trap he had set on a low island in a broad expanse of
the river contained a valuable otter. There was a deep
springhole there into which the animal had tumbled and
drowned, all of which had been planned by the trapper
to make sure of his catch.
The ice appeared to provide a bridge to the island,
so after making a careful test, Father walked over to the
trap, secured his game, and headed back toward the
bank. When he was in mid-stream, the shell-ice, which
had become suspended because of the lowering of the
river, suddenly collapsed and he was plunged into the
rushing, icy water.
Even on such a frigid day the situation would not
have been desperate had it not been for the fact that the
ice was breaking into many large cakes between which
one could neither wade nor swim. Father well knew
that many a man had lost his life under similar conditions
with no one near to lend a hand. At that moment Prince,
whose instinct had warned him not to trust the treacher-
ous ice, realized that his master was in danger. Without
hesitation he made his way into the swift, cold water, and
swam through the cakes of ice. When he reached Father
he turned, as if to offer his tail as a towline. With the big
68 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
dag's encouragement, both man and dog fought their way
toward shallower water.
Buoyed up by his thick coat of hair, and propelled by
four strong legs, Prince surged through the floating ice
until Father was able to grasp an overhanging tree
branch and pull himself to safety. The otter, secure in a
knapsack, was also saved. Now the problem was to keep
from freezing in the driving wind. As though racing for
fun, they ran along the trail until they reached an old log
camp where Father quickly made a warm fire. Once
more, Father knew, Prince had been responsible for sav-
ing his life.
Nor were these the only times when man and dog
cooperated with and understood each other in an almost
mystical relationship. Once when Father had finished
skinning a bear and was carving out some steak to take
home, he noticed that Prince had not remained near him.
He thought nothing of this, since he knew that the dog
soon tired of smelling dead bear and would race through
the woods looking for livelier game. This time Prince
found plenty, but Father's poor hearing prevented him
from becoming aware of what was going on until he had
shifted his load to his back and started to make his way
out of the woods. He had proceeded only a few hundred
yards when he came to a spruce-covered knoll where
there was evidence of a terrific fight between Prince and
some bears. The ferns and small brush had been tram-
pled, and all around were marks where huge feet had
broken up the brown carpet of the forest. By examining
the tracks, Father could see that two bears, a medium-
sized one and a very large one, had ganged up on his dog.
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 69
Knowing the courage of Prince, but also realizing that a
full-grown bear could easily knock a dog unconscious
with a well-aimed blow of his great paws, Father became
alarmed. Blood had been sprinkled about, but neither
Prince nor the bears were in sight.
Suspecting the cause of the encounter, Father began
to look up into the trees, and presently saw two cub bears
hiding in the branches of a tall hemlock tree. With his
pistol in hand, he made another search for Prince, but,
not finding him, decided that the dog had temporarily
driven the bears off. Turning to the hemlock, Father
considered shooting the cubs and collecting the bounty,
but he disliked the thought of harming such cunning
little animals. Why not capture them alive and take them
to his children? He could imagine how thrilled they
would be with the baby cubs. Father happened to have
some strong cord in his knapsack, so he left his gun and
hatchet near the tree, climbed to the topmost branches,
and carefully tied up first one and then the other tiny
bear. As he reached out to them, each cub gave a little
cry, a message of distress that listening ears were quick
to hear.
Father prepared to come down, but at this moment
saw a disturbing sight. There at the foot of the tree stood
the glowering mother bear, on her hind feet and appar-
ently about to come up the tree after him. This prospect
was anything but inviting, especially since Father's gun
and ax were on the ground. It was evident to him now
that the bears had had a strategy. They had fought with
Prince until the cubs had a chance to get up the tree, and
then the large male bear had lured the dog away so that
JQ 'Bears, Bibles and a Boy
the smaller bear could remain near her young. Possibly
the two bears had succeeded in killing Prince or he was
lying helpless in the brush.
With grave concern in his heart for his faithful dog,
and yet with a desperate hope that he was still alive and
within the sound of his voice, Father called from the tree
top, "Prince, Prince, come here, Prince!" Almost as
promptly as he had come to Father s aid in the swift, ice-
filled river, Prince responded to the summons. Though
his shoulders and head were covered with blood, he was
stffl fuH of fight Running toward the tree where his mas-
ter was trapped, he sank his sharp teeth in the bears
haunches. Surprised and angered by this rear attack, the
bear suddenly turned away and ran for her life.
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 71
By the time Father was able to slide down the tree
and seize his pistol, both bear and dog had disappeared
among the trees. For some time Father held his gun in
readiness against the return of one or both of the bears,
but they did not appear. Finally, adjusting on his shoul-
ders the bearskin and meat of the animal he had previ-
ously lolled, and holding the cubs in his arms, Father
turned toward home. Though he looked backward fre-
quently with concern for his dog, it was more than an
hour before Prince came in sight, considerably bedrag-
gled and bloodied by the conflict but still jaunty.
It would be pleasant to be able to say that the little
girls and the cubs lived happily together for a long time,
but this was not the case. Bears grow up too rapidly, and
do so much mischief that they cannot be kept as domestic
pets. While the cubs were at first allowed to roam the
house like puppies, they soon learned how to climb up
on the pantry shelves looking for honey and sweets, over-
turning the milk and upsetting everything in their way.
At that time there was no zoo nearby to send them to,
so the time finally came when Father had to sell them to a
fur dealer who wanted them for his show window in
New York City. At Father's suggestion, the dealer put
a sign in his window which read: "Bear in mind that we
give a fair deal.'*
Meantime, we children did not grieve many days, for
our mother cat brought from a secret place in the barn
five beautiful kittens.
Just as no hunter of bears should be without his
reliable dog, no farm home should be without its depend-
~2 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
able cat. To guard our supplies of flour and meal, a family
of cats always had a welcome place in our household. Our
cats were alert day and night to protect our food inside
the house, and also to wage war against outside enemies.
Rats never seemed to find their way into our valley,
but the ever-present mice must have smelled the aroma
of Mother's fragrant bread and considered it an invitation
to dinner, for they were always looking for a chance to
steal into the house. When corn began to ripen, hordes of
chipmunks, using our rail fences as highways, emerged
from the woods to feast on the golden kernels which we
needed for our cornbread. No one would begrudge these
pretty little creatures some gleanings from the harvest;
but when, like the locusts, they kept coming to carry
away another and another grain of corn, they needed to
be kept in check.
Our cats enthusiastically sympathized with our di-
lemma and were eager to do their part, but one summer
we had a cat who appeared for a time to be falling down
on her job. She was nursing three baby kittens and
needed nourishing food, but she would walk languidly
near the fence, seemingly paying no attention to the
saucy chipmunks which were traveling back and forth
from our cornfield. As a small boy, I could not understand
such negligence and apparent indifference, though the
mystery was presently solved.
Early one morning, when I opened the front door to
go for a pail of water, I saw on our stone step three life-
less chipmunks, evidently breakfast for the kittens who
were now old enough to eat meat. It occurred to me that
their mother, in a well-laid scheme to throw her game off
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 73
guard, had been deliberately playing the part of a harm-
less foe until the right time came for supplying her family
with tasty, solid food. It was apparent, moreover, that this
cat was not only wise in strategy, but skillful at numbers
as well, for obviously she could count up to three.
While Prince recovered quickly from the bruises and
scratches which he received in his fights with bears,
raccoons and wildcats, his great heart gradually weak-
ened with age until it became apparent that he should
not be taken on long dangerous hunts. To be left behind
was difficult for him to endure or understand. When he
was kept in the house he would stand at the door and
tease to be let out, as if to tell his mistress that he was
urgently needed in the forest.
On one never-to-be-forgotten day someone opened
the door and Prince, watching for just such an oppor-
tunity, dashed out. He smelled the tracks that he knew
so well and disappeared over the hill with something of
his former speed. By exerting all the skill of his years of
experience and training, he overtook his master far back
in the mountains where there had once occurred a lively
experience with a bear Prince had helped to dispatch.
This time there was no game. Father was returning home
after setting a bear trap.
Prince, however, seemed to have no wish to go home.
Even after a good rest, he walked down the trail only a
little way, and then lay down. Father thought that the
dog would gradually follow him out of the woods, as he
had done on former occasions, so he went back to the
house and ate his supper. Then, since Prince did not show
-, Bears, Bibles and a Boy
up, Father hastily retraced his steps back to the trap,
where the sight that met his eyes was almost too distress-
ing to relate, and just as difficult to explain.
Who can tell all that goes on in a dog's brain? Did
Prince, realizing that his end was near, wish to make sure
that he would never again be left at home? Or, fearing
that he might not be present to defend his master from a
charging bear, did he determine to prevent such a cir-
cumstance from occurring? Although he had seen traps
set, and had been taught to avoid them, he had gone back
to this trap and had brought both feet down hard on the
pan. His front legs were caught and badly crushed. Per-
haps he had brought his feet down so emphatically to tell
Father that if they were not going to be together any
more, all trapping should be given up.
Heartbroken, Father knelt beside Prince and tried to
do what he could to save the dog's life. Prince, however,
had other plans, for he growled and snapped at the hands
reaching down to help him. Father might have used
chloroform in such an emergency, but it was not avail-
able. Besides, it was too late, for suddenly the tired heart
ceased to beat and the valiant dog obtained his wish to
remain in the forest forever.
THE BIG CATAMOUNT
A
OT LONG after the death of Prince,
Father heard of some puppies over in Vermont which had
been especially bred for bear dogs. They were a mixture
of various strains Shepherd, Saint Bernard, Black Bull,
and one or two others. Making a hasty trip over to the
Green Mountains, Father returned with one of the prize
pups in his packbasket. Our joy was unbounded when
we saw the golden head and paws of the puppy extend-
ing from its snug cover. We would now have a pet to
pky with, a dog which would accompany us through the
woods to the spring, and go with us after the cows in the
evening.
The first task was to select a name for the new mem-
ber of the family. Because of the long, thick fur on his
neck and chest, we thought he resembled a lion; and so
we called him Lion. At first, of course, he was far from
lion-like, and really quite timid. On his first trip to see the
75
76 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
cattle in the barn, Lion tumbled over backward when
one of the oxen lowered his head and breathed on him.
Later on, however, he grew more courageous; and once
when he had carelessly let his tail extend between the
boards of the pigpen so that a pig was tempted to taste
it, Lion, in retaliation for the insult, leaped into the pen
and nipped the pig on one of its ears.
While Lion was still too young to go after bears,
Father made his trips alone. On one such trip he didn't
carry his pistol, as he had been doing some repair work
on it; of course, that was the time when he needed it
most, for he found a very lively and unfriendly bear in
one of his traps. Observing that the trap and clog were
securely hitched to some bushes, Father decided to use
a club on the bear. He cut one which he thought would
be the right size, approached the bear, and struck at his
head. The bear brought up a paw and easily knocked the
heavy stick to one side. He did the same thing again and
again, until Father cut a lighter stick which could be
handled with greater speed. With this he feinted once,
then followed with a quick blow high up on the bear's
snout. This comparatively light blow stunned the animal
completely. When telling of this encounter later on,
Father claimed that a bear can be knocked senseless
just as easily as a raccoon, if the blow lands in the right
place.
Another exciting experience occurred when Father
was traveling alone to one of his more remote traplines
far up in the Adirondacks. He stopped at a log shanty
where some woodsmen were working on a lumber job.
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 77
They told him they had been terrified because of the
presence of some large, unknown animal in the vicinity.
None of them dared to go out of doors after dark, and
they warned Father that it would be exceedingly danger-
ous for a man with defective hearing to venture alone up
the mountain with so small a gun.
From what he was told about the nocturnal prowler,
Father inferred that the animal was a lynx, a fierce mem-
ber of the mountain lion family. In addition to the strong,
sharp claws of a lynx which can tear a dog to shreds, it
has an ear-splitting screech, similar to that of a woman in
mortal terror. A man who had previously faced a charging
bear and killed it with a single bullet described his reac-
tion when he heard for the first time the hideous cry of a
lynx. It happened when he was hunting deer in the Maine
woods. The silence of the forest was suddenly rent with
a noise so terrifying that the hair of his head actually
stood up straight!
The lumberjacks in this Adirondack camp had fre-
quently been awakened from sound slumber by such
blood-curdling cries, but it was more than the frightful
scream that had made them afraid. As they explained to
Father, who had planned to stop with them only one
night, the catamount had actually pounced upon one of
their men who had ventured out after dark, and had
clawed him so severely that he died. They had heard that
a lynx seldom, if ever, attacks a human being; and so
there was much discussion as to what the daemon-spirited
beast might be.
The more Father heard about this beast and the way
78 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
it often leaped upon the roof of the shanty at night, the
more eager he became to go after it. Early the next morn-
ing he selected two strong traps and headed for the dense
forest of spruce and hemlock on the slopes above the
camp. He soon saw a trail of large tracks that led upward,
but presently he saw deer tracks which caused him to
deviate from his main course and to proceed with stealth.
After he had located and shot a small deer, a portion of
which he needed for bait, Father turned back to the
winding path and made for the rocky terrain higher up.
After an hour's climb he came to some boulders at
the base of a jagged cliff, where he saw feathers of par-
tridge, fur of rabbits, and bones of deer. For all he could
tell, fiercely-gleaming eyes might already be watching
him from a secluded lair under the nearby ledges. Father
decided to set his traps here. Bending down two stout
saplings for spring poles, and securing them in an arched
position with stakes, he fastened the chains of his traps
to the tops of the bent trees, covered the jaws of steel,
and hung up the bait
Everything had to be done with care and skill. In
fact, Father took so much time and pains that the men
at the shanty had begun to fear for his life. Late in the
afternoon, when dark clouds were beginning to bring on
an early evening, they saw Father approaching the camp
carrying some object on his shoulders. It was the hind
quarters of the deer which he had shot earlier. Though
pleased with the prospect of feasting on venison as a
welcome change from pork and beans, the men good^
naturedly chided their guest for hunting deer instead of
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 79
tracking down the big cat. Father replied calmly: "Let's
wait until tomorrow, and see what happens."
When Father went up the mountain the next day to
inspect his traps, he approached them cautiously. He
was not afraid, for whether traveling through the forest
by day or by night, he was never disturbed by the
thought that some animal might attack him. However, he
had learned that it was wise to walk stealthily when
nearing a trap which might have large game in it Pres-
ently, through an opening among the branches of the
evergreens, he saw that he had made a catch, and that
the animal looked like a deer. There had been no sign
of deer at the particular spot where he had set his traps,
but if one had accidentally been caught, he knew that he
would be teased even more than on the previous night.
Then he saw that the creature had torn bark from trees
and had broken limbs and branches as far as it could
reach in every direction. A closer view revealed an extra
large lynx, caught by a hind leg and suspended just a few
inches above the ground. The color and markings of the
animal, however, were different from those of any lynx
or wildcat which Father had previously caught. Because
of its enormous size and the fact that it had fatally at-
tacked a man, he guessed that it might be a Canadian
lynx, of which he had heard. There is even the possibility
that this animal was one of the remaining pumas, or
mountain lions, which in earlier years ranged throughout
the forests of the northeast to Maine, spreading terror
when seen or heard by early pioneers.
At any rate, when the trapper returned to the lumber
So Bears, Bibles and a Boy
camp, tie and his huge, ugly-looking cat became the cen-
ter of interest and respect. The men, now delivered from
the cause of their fears, urged Father to stop over with
them whenever he happened to be trapping in their
vicinity.
LION, THE BEAR DOG
J>
rION soon became a strong, husky
dog. He was a good farm dog, and learned to be gentle
with the cattle and sheep as he helped to drive them
from the pasture to the barn. He was always on the alert
for opportunities to be of service. If Father was fishing
the brook Lion would stand by quietly in order not to
frighten the fish, and if a trout happened to drop off the
hook, Lion would retrieve it before it had a chance to flop
back into the water. However, he liked hunting best of
all. Whenever he saw Father reach for his gun he would
go into ecstasy. Since I was a small boy at the time, I do
not recall much about Lion as a young dog but I have
gathered his story from older sisters and brothers, and
certain images of him are stamped on my mind. I can see
him jumping up and down when the mere handling of a
gun suggested the possibility of going after game. I re-
member that I had to keep out of the way to avoid being
81
g 2 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
knocked over. At that time I could not have been more
than two or three years old.
Lion grew to be a larger and stronger dog than
Prince, and was so quick that he made short work of rac-
coons and other small animals. When he had a chance
to go to Father's aid at a time when a wounded bear
was charging, he proved that he had the spirit of old
Prince. He not only stopped the mad rush of the beast,
but more than held his own in the fight which ensued.
Father always taught his dogs obedience and good
manners. He did not want them to fight like common
curs, but on one occasion he made an exception. A man
named Davis, who lived down on the crossroad, owned
a dog of large size and mean disposition called Ruff. This
ill-trained dog, if not restrained, attacked all other dogs
that came along, and sent them on their way limping and
bleeding. He was also very menacing to us children,
growling and rearing up when we walked innocently
along the road that he considered his domain. Davis
boasted that his dog could lick anything on four legs.
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 83
Whenever Father had Lion with him as he passed
the Davis house, he kept the dog close to his side and
avoided trouble. Lion himself showed no inclination to
scrap. As a fighter against wildcats and bears, he seemed
to consider himself above a run-in with a mere house dog.
Davis scoffed at Father and Lion, and misinterpreted
their behavior as cowardly. He said, "It's natural for dogs
to bark and bite. They soon learn which one is boss, and
after that they get along all right." Father replied, "Lion
is still a young dog, and on my trapping trips I have to
pass many houses where there are dogs. I don't want Lion
fighting with every new dog he sees/' But when Davis
added, "My husky would eat up your pampered bear-
dog," Father yielded. He agreed to a fight but suggested
that the dogs be separated before either one could do the
other much damage. Davis said, "No, let them fight until
one of them knows he's licked."
Ruff was growling out his challenges and insults as
Father said, "Take him, Lion." No time was lost in spar-
ring or circling for position. Lion must have sensed all the
crimes that had been committed against the smaller and
weaker members of his kind, and was eager to avenge
them. The two big dogs came together with furious im-
pact, and the Davis dog went over backwards. As if he
were an animal to be killed and skinned, Lion caught his
adversary by the throat and began to shake the life out
of him.
The fight did not last more than a minute. Davis
shouted to Father, "Take him off, take your dog off! He's
killing my dog!" Father readily consented, and pulled
Lion away. "That's enough, Lion; that's enough."
> Bears, Bibles and a Boy
Mr. Davis no longer had any doubt about which dog
was the champion in that neighborhood.
More than once Lion saved his master from being
injured by a bear. And in the spring of the year, when
bears prey on sheep that are bearing their young, Lion
was a faithful guard in our pasture. He also made our
valley so unhealthy for wildcats that they moved away.
In fact, it was his reputation for ridding the woods of
these marauding cats that almost cost him his life.
Father's nephew from Vermont asked permission to
take Lion over to his state to hunt down and drive out
the many bobcats which were decimating the small game
of that region. He promised to take good care of our dog
and to bring him back to us by spring, when the bears
would be emerging from their dens. However, circum-
stances arose which interfered with the keeping of the
agreement.
On a long hike through crusted snow Ally, as our
cousin was nicknamed, injured a leg so severely that soon
after his return home he had to leave the dog with a
friend while he went to a hospital for treatment. Mean-
time, the friend, who was then courting a young lady,
gave his undivided attention to her and even presumed
to ask her to help him care for the dog. One cold, blustery
day she ordered Lion out of the house. Quite naturally
he refused to obey, and was given a cruel beating by the
suitor. At the first opportunity, Lion ran away.
A few weeks later a letter was delivered to us telling
of the disappearance of our beloved dog. We were terri-
bly distressed, but tried to reassure ourselves that a dog
as smart as Lion would be able to find his way back to
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 85
us, even though he had been transported first by foot,
then by train, and again by foot, over a distance of more
than seventy-five miles. To be sure, Lake George and
Lake Champlain formed intervening barriers and the
water at that time of the year was very cold and covered
with ice around the shores.
A second letter, close on the heels of the first,
brought more disturbing information. A farmer had found
in his pasture a dead yearling heifer which, according to
visible tracks, had been killed and partly eaten by a large
dog. The letter went on to say that a hunter had followed
the large footprints of a dog in the snow and had set traps
near a rocky den.
It was difficult for us to believe that our Lion was the
culprit, for he had never molested any livestock in our
valley. On the contrary, he had frequently slept among
our sheep. Still, he might have been driven by hunger to
help himself to the only food available.
Father headed immediately for Vermont. Defying a
blinding snowstorm that overtook him on Hague Moun-
tain, he made his way by foot to Ticonderoga and, when
night came on, continued steadily down to Whitehall,
across to Poultney, and then in a southerly direction to
Dorset, Vermont At dawn he had traveled sixty-five
miles, and had several miles to go to reach the back dis-
trict where Lion was in jeopardy.
When he came to the more remote houses among the
hills, he learned that Lion had managed to escape from
the den where the hunter had trailed him. The traps had
been sprung, and the large one was missing. The chain
had been broken close to the stake to which it had been
86 Bears, Bibles and a Bay
fastened. Tracks which the fleeing dog had made in the
snow led to another cave farther back in the mountains.
To make sure that his prize would not elude him again,
the hunter had blocked the entrance to the cave and
hurried home for help. Father was informed that four
men had started off before daylight to do his big dog to
death.
The men had armed themselves with muskets, loaded
with buckshot. They expected to smoke Lion out of the
cave, so had taken a bag of old rags for producing smoke,
and blankets to force the suffocating fumes into the more
distant recesses. They were eager for sport, and for the
fifty-dollar reward that was on Lion's head.
In spite of their careful preparations, the plan did
not work as well as had been anticipated. An aperture in
the ledges produced an upward draft which carried some
of the smoke away. Additional rags were ignited, and a
long pole used to push them farther into the cavity. After
a long wait the sound of a cough proved that the smoke
was reaching its intended victim. The blankets were re-
moved from the opening, and the men raised their guns
to shoot. The clinking of metal on stones told them that
the dog was coining out for air.
At this moment Father came racing through the
woods and ordered the men to stop. Considerably sur-
prised at the appearance of this black-bearded stranger,
the men looked suspicious, and annoyed at being inter-
rupted. One of them asked Father who he was,
Tm not surprised you don't remember me," Father
answered. Tm Ed Roberts, son of Allen Roberts, the
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 87
Green Mountain bear hunter some of you must recall.**
Two of the men nodded.
"I left these parts some twenty years ago and moved
over to the Adirondacks where I do considerable bear
hunting myself. This dog you plan to kill once saved me
from an enormous bear."
Since the heavy trap had apparently slowed Lion's
progress in emerging from the smoke-filled cave, the men
had to listen.
"I got this dog from your own town, seven years ago
when he was a pup. He's a great bear dog. He's also death
on wildcats. In fact, it was to help clear the wildcats out
of your county that I agreed to lend him to my nephew
Ally. I was told that your turkeys and small game were
being destroyed.''
Father told them briefly of Ally's bad luck and of the
events leading up to Lion's misfortune. "I can't explain
it," he added. "Lion was a sheep dog before he ever
learned to hunt one of the best I ever had. But being
lost and among strangers, he had to turn to hunting for
his food. I guess it was the only thing he could do.'*
The rough-looking woodsmen and hunters acknowl-
edged the truth of this last remark. Reassured by their
attention, Father continued. "Over in my neighborhood
we're not troubled by wildcats. Lion drove them all off."
"Come to think of it," one of the men said, "I haven't
lost a turkey for six weeks, and I haven't heard of anyone
else losing any either. Maybe the dog has earned his
keep. Besides, the runt heifers he killed weren't worth
much anyway."
8 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
"Of course m pay for the heifers," Father said. "Tin
a trifle short on cash right now, but I expect to sell some
fur soon, and when the check comes I'll make things right
with you/'
"What about my reward?" another of the men com-
plained. "I've spent more than a week following tracks
and setting traps. Are you going to cheat me out of the
money now?"
The first man who had addressed Father was evi-
dently the leader of the group. "The reward's off! I
started this thing before I knew the facts. Dogs as well as
people have a right to a fair trial. Let's help Ed Roberts
get his dog out of that damned trap."
A plaintive whine from the dark hole indicated that
Lion had heard his master's voice and was calling for his
help. It didn't take long for Father to crawl in beside his
dog and to release Lion's badly swollen hind leg from the
jaws of the trap. Fortunately, the leg was not broken and
Father bound it up with rags. The party was soon on its
way out of the rough terrain.
Although weak from lack of food, Lion could hobble
along down the trail. The men who had so recently been
bent on shooting him now did what they could to make
amends for their cruelty. They helped Lion over the hard
places and offered him dried venison and a place by the
fire when the group reached the mountain community.
For the return home my cousin Ally contributed a
wagon, heaped with straw on which Lion was content to
rest and lick his injured paw. We children vied with one
another to give Lion the welcome he deserved, hugging
him and rubbing coon oil on his wounds. Lion endured
Bears, Bibles and a Bey 89
this attention with remarkable patience, thumping his
great tail on the floor. Probably his best reward was pro-
vided by Mother and my sister Cordie, who baked him
a cornbread johnnycake with bacon drippings.
Lion was as gentle as ever toward us children, and
contrary to the claim that a dog who has once killed and
tasted the warm blood of cattle can never be trusted with
farm stock, he remained dependable in rounding up our
cows and sheep.
He lived on to increase his reputation as a hunting
dog. In his older years Lion was seldom called on to
tackle a bear, but he could still make short work of the
largest raccoon, and he found great pleasure in stalking
woodchucks. Because of his advancing age and a slight
limp during the cold weather, we tried to keep him by
the fireside as much as possible. However, if Father so
much as got up to go outside for more firewood, Lion was
the first at the door, eager to be tracking down the scents
and following the wild trails that gave him such delight.
In the summer, as he grew older, Lion used to lie on
some hay near our barn door, where he could watch our
comings and goings. I remember how the warm sun shone
down on his magnificent golden coat. Then one morning
we found him, stretched before the door he had guarded
so faithfully and long, in his last sleep. We felt sure that
he had slipped quietly away to join our other brave dogs.
THE BLIZZARD OF 'I
f
C/ARLY in March, 1888, when a big
thaw indicated that winter might be breaking up, Father
thought the weather conditions right for one more try at
trapping fisher and marten far back among the higher
Adirondacks. Since the maple sugar season was rapidly
approaching, there was hardly a day to spare for such a
trip, but Father urgently needed ready money. One of
our oxen had broken a leg, and had had to be killed. We
needed a new yoke of oxen to draw up the sap and to do
the spring plowing, A man who lived a few miles away
had a pair of three-year-old steers for sale, but they were
so perfectly matched that he was asking one hundred
dollars for them; and at that time one hundred dollars
was a lot of money for us to raise.
Bears, Bibles and a Boy gi
So Father loaded his packbasket with traps and other
necessities and started off for the valuable pelts. He left
long before dawn, and by 9 P.M. reached Mt. Marcy,
more than sixty miles from our house. There was no
abandoned shanty in the locality for shelter, so he made
his headquarters in a cave where he had often camped
before. The next day he set his traps, gathered wood to
cook his pork and beans, and brought in evergreen
boughs for his bed. He saw numerous animal tracks and
these made him confident and hopeful. On his first round
to his traps he was not disappointed, and even felt that
he might make a record catch if his luck continued. But
suddenly the weather changed to an intense cold, and the
furbearers, as if warned of an approaching calamity, dis-
appeared. Father retired to his cave on Marcy, and, ac-
cording to his custom, prepared to rest on Sunday, which
was the next day. If, as the signs told him, a storm was
q 2 Bears, Bibles and a Bay
coming, he was ready for it; but instead of an ordinary
late-winter storm, the blizzard of '88 caught him on this
isolated, wind-swept mountain.
Father anticipated only a few inches of snow, and
hoped that the storm would be over by Monday morning.
It became increasingly evident, however, that this was no
usual fall of snow. As if in great wrath, and fighting for
the right-of-way up and down this highest peak of the
Adirondacks, the biting wind whistled and howled
through the swaying trees, and tried the strength of every
cliff. Many trees came crashing to the earth, and broken
limbs were blown about like scraps of paper. The Bible-
reading trapper recalled the time when the prophet Elijah
took refuge in a cave, "and a great and strong wind rent
the mountains, and broke in pieces the rocks before the
Lord." Through the night and day, and on through the
following night and day, the fury of the storm built the
bulwarks of snow higher and higher.
I was five years old at the time, too young to know
much about anxiety; but Mother, even though she real-
ized Father's resourcefulness in taking care of himself,
must have been tempted to worry as the terrific wind
wrestled at our doors and windows. She knew that he
was acquainted with caves and dens into which he might
go for shelter, and that if it was necessary he would not
hesitate to take over the sleeping quarters of a bear. But
there was the danger that he would become so concerned
for the safety of his family that he would attempt to make
his way back home. She had heard of other strong men
losing their lives in such a vain effort.
We did not fear that our bread-winner would starve.
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 93
A skillful trapper can usually provide himself with plenty
of food in any emergency. Rabbits, raccoon, and par-
tridges are easy to catch or shoot, and were nearly always
available among the hills and mountains. And Father
generally carried with him a few easily prepared food-
stuffs such as cornmeal, beans, and salt pork. Nor did he
have to worry lest we run out of provisions at home. With
the barrel of flour, bag of cornmeal, potatoes in the cellar,
and milk and butter from our cows, we were stocked al-
most as well as a neighborhood grocery store.
However, we were prisoners of the storm. The full
fury of the blizzard hit the Adirondack region. The tem-
perature went down to twenty and thirty below zero,
felt all the more because of the high wind. The snow was
four feet deep around our house, and back in the woods
it was deeper still. Great drifts ten to twenty feet high
were everywhere. Our road was impassable, and not a
single neighbor was able to come to our house to speak a
word of encouragement or ask after our welfare.
Fortunately, there was wood in the shed, though it
was covered with snow that had been driven through the
cracks between the boards. My own task was to keep the
woodbox full, and to make pine shavings at night with
which to rekindle the fire in the morning. I remember
putting sticks in the oven to warm and dry, so that we
would be assured of a steady fire when the wood was laid
on the glowing coals above. John and Ruel shoveled a
path to the barn, which was more than a hundred feet
away, fed the cattle and sheep, and milked the two
cows. Keeping this path open was not easy, for if there is
anything that drifting snow likes, it is filling a narrow
gj Bears, Bibles and a Boy
path. To get water for the stock, and for cooking and
washing, it was necessary to bring in pails of snow to be
melted on the stove.
At the height of the howling wind, when our small
house vibrated and loose clapboards rattled, it seemed to
me that packs of wolves must be huffing and puffing to
blow our doors down. Indeed, the fine snow found cracks
in our loft through which it came in tiny drifts close to
my straw mattress in the attic. I snuggled close to my
brother John for warmth and comfort.
When Father had prepared to take this trip, Mother
had urged him to include snowshoes in his pack, but he
had thought the winter was too far gone for such equip-
ment He changed his mind when the storm continued
through Monday, and the snow rose up to his shoulders.
There was only one thing for him to do: he must make
himself some snowshoes. Fortunately, he had learned how
to weave web-like supports for both feet and hands. Cut-
ting some flexible sapling branches, he bent them to the
shape of snowshoes, fastened them in this form with
copper wire (which he carried for mending traplines and
making snares to catch rabbits), and crisscrossed them
with strong withes. To lighten his pack, he left everything
that he could spare in the cave, but the sub-zero weather
had frozen his four fishers and two sable so quickly that
he had been unable to skin them.
As soon as the storm subsided a bit, Father put his
heavy, awkward burden on his back, fastened his impro-
vised snowshoes to his feet and hands, and, on all fours,
began his descent. Down the slopes and past the flows,
Bears, Bibles and a Boy g$
he made his way over gigantic drifts and treacherous
snow pockets. As he took each laborious step, the usually
well-loved forest seemed more like a prison of snow.
Finally, reaching the clearings, Father saw men with
oxen attempting to break roads from one house to an-
other. And now, in spite of the drifting snow, he was able
to discard his cumbersome supports. With many zigzags,
he pushed on with more speed in an upright position. His
large rubbers, pulled on over homemade sheepskin moc-
casins, not only kept his feet warm but also enabled T-nrn
to make rapid progress.
Late in the evening of the second day after the storm
had abated, a familiar stamping at our back door indi-
cated that Father was trying to leave all traces of the
great blizzard behind him. With energy that did not know
the meaning of the word "tired," he had made his way
over those more than sixty miles of snow-filled roads in
record time.
Even though I was then so young, I remember seeing
Father standing by the kitchen stove as he pulled the ice
from his beard, and I recall the joyous relief that filled
our hearts. Father had not only lived through the storm,
but also had brought back with him valuable furs which,
later on, were sold for considerably more than was
needed to purchase the splendidly matched yoke of oxen.
I know also that after eating his late supper, he took his
Bible from the shelf back of the table and read a full
chapter from its pages. We all then kneeled for the eve-
ning prayer.
During the next few days a warmer south wind and
qg Bears, Bibles and a Boy
bright sun melted the snow and the sap began to run.
The maple-sugar season was upon us, and the Blizzard of
'88, for our family at least, became only a pleasantly excit-
ing topic of conversation.
MAKING MAPLE SUGAR
HILE wood-chopping, fishing, skat-
ing, and sliding down hill broke the monotony of long
winters, the spring sugaring brought us the sweetest de-
light. Along about the middle of March, when warmer
sunshine encouraged the crows to return and favored the
industry of the woodpeckers, we tapped our maples. It
was hard work to gather enough wood to boil down a
barrel of sap until it thickened into a gallon of syrup, and
the task of making paths to the trees through the accumu-
lated snows of winter and collecting the liquid from the
buckets afforded plenty of exercise. However, the pros-
pect of quick returns in the form of wax on snow, and the
later pleasure of pure maple syrup for griddle cakes and
corn bread made the labor much more exciting than
hoeing potatoes and getting up the hay.
I remember that a few days after the Blizzard of '88,
when the snow had settled, I followed in Father's foot-
97
g8 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
steps as with brace and bit, spouts and buckets, he tapped
some of our big maples over on the south side of a hill.
In our region, in spite of occasional thaws, the snow re-
mained on the ground until mid-April. Late snows, and
of course the Blizzard of '88, naturally made the task of
collecting the sap more difficult, since we had to remove
snow from each bucket and, not infrequently, ice as well.
The sap we gathered was boiled down in milk pans on our
range; and the syrup was as clear as crystal.
It is a well-known fact that sap is sweeter and syrup
of higher quality when the sun warms the maple trees
after a hard freeze. For this reason people who know about
sugaring prefer the products from the first run of the trees,
instead of the sap which comes later in milder weather. I
recall hearing it said that the deep-freeze of early March,
1888, made for a particularly clear and tasty syrup and
whiter cakes of sugar.
At our house the feast of maple sweets was not one
of short duration. The big cakes of sugar for year-round
use were stored in a large tin trunk, in order to keep mice
and other intruders from sampling them. Small cakes were
laid by as candy. I have often held a stalk of rhubarb in
one hand and a piece of maple sugar in the other, and by
taking alternate bites of the sour and the sweet given my
sense of taste a rare treat. The syrup for griddle cakes and
corn bread was kept in bottles in the cool-cellar, where
the canned berries were.
Did you ever eat shortcake made with wild straw-
berries, thick cream, and grated maple sugar? If you have,
you know what I mean when I speak of Mother s baking.
Bears, Bibles and a Boy gg
She mixed the berries, cream, and sugar in a bowl, and
then spread both layers of the cake with this tasty mix-
ture.
Grated maple sugar also made a tempting filler for
the sandwiches we took to school for lunch; and blue-
berry pudding, sprinkled with maple sugar, was a dessert
fit for royalty. I have imitated some of the little food
tricks that Mother used, and have grated maple sugar
over the oatmeal served to friends on camping trips. Of
course, out in the open, people have keener appetites, but
I have found that oatmeal served in this manner will call
forth exclamations of praise.
For a delightful variation of taste, we stirred butter-
nut meats into thick maple syrup and made a soft-textured
candy which no one can resist once he has tried it.
I am not advertising for any maple products com-
pany, but I have wondered why it is that so many people
living in New England have never tasted maple wax on
snow. One reason may be that the snow does not last long
enough in the more southern sections; but if one will store
up a gallon or two of maple syrup, and exercise the neces-
sary self-control to keep some of it until the snows of
January and February come, he will be well rewarded.
The syrup must be boiled down until it begins to drip
lazily from a spoon or ladle as it is tested by dropping a
bit on a pan of clean, packed snow. When the syrup
hardens into a ribbon almost as soon as it touches the cold
snow, it is ready for eating. Pour the reddish liquid slowly
around in circles, or in any way you wish, and then, with
fork in hand, break it up, or wind it up, and begin to
Bears, Bibles and a Boy
enjoy the rich fruit of the maples. If you serve the treat
to anyone with false teeth, take special pains not to have
the syrup too thick when it is poured on the snow! We
boys sometimes played tricks on our dog by giving him
rather hard maple wax that stuck his teeth together.
HOME REMEDIES
ROM his parents in Vermont, and
from an aged Indian who lived on our farm for a few years
after the Civil War, Father learned about roots, barks, and
herbs which were supposed to be specific remedies for
various human ailments. For a spring tonic, when sulphur
and molasses needed to be supplemented, he concocted
a brew of wintergreen leaves, sarsaparilla roots, cherry
bark, boneset, and various other ingredients. Some of
these items, such as boneset and nervine roots, made po-
tions bitter as gall, but when sufficiently sweetened with
maple sugar the taste was very agreeable.
Once on a trip to a bear trap, I saw Father drop to his
knees to dig up a mass of yellow, hairlike roots which he
called nervine. A few weeks later a neighbor came to ask
if we happened to have that particular medicine. He
wanted some for his mother, who was having a nervous
attack. I found afterwards that a cure had been effected.
101
1O2 , Bears, Bibles and a Boy
My people never made any charge for these nature
remedies, but dispensed them freely.
For the common cold, roots of ginseng, senega, and
the bulbs of wild turnips (our name for Jack-in- the-pul-
pit) were dried, ground to a powder, and mixed with
honey. Unless plenty of honey was used, it was torture to
take the wild turnip powder. A city man who was travel-
ing through the woods with Father once insisted on tast-
ing the wild turnip food, which bears eat with relish. The
fiery smarting became so unbearable that the gentleman
ran to a brook to rinse out his mouth. Unfortunately,
water merely made the agony worse. When our city friend
finally recovered, he was perfectly willing to leave all
the Indian turnips to the bears. A lady who once took a
tiny bite of this forest food said she felt as though her
tongue had been split apart.
Alive to tell the story, I, as well as all the other mem-
bers of the Roberts family, had to take this powerful
medicine whenever I had a cold and sore throat. At one
time, when diphtheria was epidemic and we showed
symptoms of catching it, we were given the ground wild
turnip mixed with honey. In addition, we had to take
skunk's oil, which was also rubbed on our throats. What-
ever our illness was, we survived both that and the
remedies.
Our cellar was kept well-stocked with oils of raccoon,
woodchuck, skunk, and bear. Aside from the potency of
these animal oils for both internal and external use, there
was no question about their value for softening the leather
boots with which we were supplied every fall. When we
walked through the snow, the leather became hard, mak-
Bears., Bibles and a Boy 203
ing it necessary to use a bootjack to free our feet at night,
and to have super-human strength to get the stiff boots
on again in the morning. The oil helped to keep the leather
pliable.
People from far and near frequently came to our
house to obtain wild-animal oils. If they did not need
the stuff for their personal use, they wanted it to rub on
the joints of their lame horses, or as a sure cure for the
heaves. A clergyman who was a bald as a plate once came
after some bear's oil which he intended to mix with al-
cohol to stimulate the growth of his hair. If his formula
had produced the desired results, we might have become
millionaires and I might have more use for a comb than
I do now.
There is the story of a country quack who had just
finished his sales talk about a cure for rheumatism when
a listener in the crowd spoke up and said that a bottle
104 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
of the magic elixir which he had bought had not done him
any good. The quick-witted quack replied, "I don't won-
der at all. The chemist who mixed up that batch of medi-
cine forgot to put bear's oil in it." As far as I remember,
we never attempted to swallow any bear's oil, but once
when an older sister was so choked up with bronchitis
that she could hardly breathe, she consented to take some
skunk's oil. This gagged her sufficiently to open her
breathing passages, after which she willingly admitted
her debt to the lowly skunk.
A word should also be spoken for coon's oil, for on
one occasion when we boys were to provide the popcorn
for a neighborhood party, it was discovered at the last
minute that we were short of butter. Undaunted, my
older brother Ruel, who had recently caught two fat rac-
coon, mixed a quantity of their oil with the popcorn,
salted it, and carried two pails of it to the party. Every-
one praised the popcorn as the best they had ever eaten.
In addition to herbs, roots, barks, and oils, Father
made a salve which won a high reputation. The main
ingredients in this, though I do not remember the propor-
tions, were spruce gum, resin, beeswax, and sheep tallow.
These items were melted together on the stove, cooled,
and made into convenient rolls for treating all our cuts
and scratches. We also chewed the spruce gum, and
found it a soothing relief for sore throat.
The wintergreen leaves, which we combined with
various barks to make our spring tonic, were chewed too.
We boys thought of them as a substitute for chewing
tobacco. Much later, when I spoke to a retired teacher of
medicine about this, he told me that aspirin is derived,
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 105
in part at least, from wintergreen leaves. I have never
checked this, but I know that the new wintergreen plants
were a tasty delicacy to chew and eat in the spring.
However helpful our home remedies may have been
for curative purposes, there were a few times when we felt
the need of outside aid. When sister Antha was a young
girl she had a stomach disorder which defied all of our
therapeutic efforts. Bitter boneset tea and the syrup of
roots and barks were administered in vain. The child lost
her appetite, and could not retain food of the simplest
kind. Day after day she grew steadily worse, until finally
a doctor was called. Our parents hoped that he would be
able to find the cause of the illness, and also a cure for
it; but his prescriptions were no more effective than those
Mother had been using. Baffled by the failure of his ef-
forts, the physician asked permission to consult with a
noted city doctor who was spending his vacation at Brant
Lake. Hope revived as the two men stood over little
Antha, trying to agree on the treatment of the disorder. A
change of medicine was made, and a bottle of dark-
colored liquid was left, with direction that a teaspoonful
be administered every three hours.
By this time Mother had become very tired. She
had been caring for Antha night and day for several weeks
and two younger daughters, Cordie and Clara, also re-
quired attention. The older daughters, Alice and Anna,
helped all they could during the day, and Father, who
was busy with the crops and the haying, took his turn
as nurse at night. The new medicine was given on sched-
ule, and a diet of warm milk and toast was prepared as
directed. However, the sick child could not bear the sight
Io g Bears, Bibles and a Bay
of food. Poor Antha, who never seemed to be robust like
her older sisters, was now reduced to skin and bones, and
it was pitiful to see her gradually growing weaker and
weaker.
Mother was a quiet and firm believer, but the trial
of her faith had been long; and, in spite of prayers, she
saw her daughter grow steadily worse. One afternoon,
when she saw Antha's frail fingers listlessly picking at
the bed covering a sign which she had always under-
stood meant that death was near she sent Alice into the
field to call Father, while she rushed to the pantry for
the medicine. She seized the bottle of dark-colored liquid,
poured out a partial teaspoonful, and lifting Antha's head
up a trifle with one hand, emptied the contents of the
spoon into her mouth. Instantly, a convulsive cough and
cry of agony called attention to the mistake that had been
made. Instead of the prescribed medicine, Mother had
administered iodine.
She could not think of any antidote for iodine poison-
ing, but in an effort to counteract the burning in her
child's mouth and throat, caught up a piece of apple pie
from the table and, with a combination of persuasion and
force, succeeded in getting it chewed and swallowed.
When Father rushed into the house and learned what
had happened, it seemed to him that everything was con-
spiring against their efforts to save Antha's life. The iodine
itself might be enough to cause death to someone so weak,
and apple pie in a stomach which could not digest the
simplest foods would surely be disastrous. Meantime, ex-
hausted by the extra exertion or fainting because of the
pain, little Antha closed her eyes and lay very still. Father
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 107
and Mother watched at her bedside for a long time, and
gradually it seemed to them that instead of growing
weaker, her breathing was becoming stronger and more
normal. And when the sleep was finished it was evident
that Antha was much improved. Indeed, from that hour,
her recovery was remarkable. It was as though the healing
words had been spoken as they once had to Jairas* daugh-
ter: "Little girl, I say unto thee, arise."
My parents did not forget to give thanks to Him who
had said, "Fear not, only believe," but neither did they
write down the combination of iodine and apple pie as
a home remedy.
OUR NEW DOG GYP
A
I IT
FEW months after our dog Lion had
finished his good life, Father brought home another dog.
This one was a black Spanish setter, and was said to be a
thoroughbred of high value. I must admit that the little
aristocrat looked rather woebegone when he came to live
with us. He had been brought from New York as a pet
for two boys who, during the summer, spent their vacation
on an island of Brant Lake. We found out that he had
fared poorly at their hands. The boys had tied his food on
a float and made him swim after it. For amusement they
fastened tin cans to his tail, and laughed at his efforts to
free himself.
However, the misused dog had discovered a way of
getting even. When the family slept late in the morning,
he nosed over the milk can on the veranda and lapped up
the milk as it leaked out from under the tin cover. For
thus helping himself to an early breakfast, while depriving
108
Bears, Bibles and a Boy log
the late risers of milk for their cereal and coffee, the dog
had been named Gyp. Father made friends with Gyp and
one day, when he was delivering brook trout, arranged
to trade the fish for the dog.
I still remember seeing Gyp tied to a bed to keep him
from running away before he was accustomed to his new
home. The bright way he had of showing his appreciation
for the welcome we gave him in our home impressed us
all. When Mother swept the floor, Gyp never had to be
told to move from the place where he happened to be ly-
ing. In order not to be in the way, he always moved to a
section which had already been swept.
In the winter when the cattle were likely to block the
path on their return trip from the spring, Gyp showed
both intelligence and leadership. A cow or ox who hap-
pened to be leading the way would often endeavor to
show importance or merely play a bovine prank on its
followers by suddenly stopping and holding up the en-
tire line. About four o'clock every afternoon, therefore,
one of us boys went to the barn to see if the cows were
in their stalls for the evening milking. If they were not
there, we had to go after them. Gyp observed the way
this chore was done, and voluntarily took over the job
without any training from us. At just the right time in the
afternoon he would inspect the stables; if they were
empty, he would trot up the road, break up the traffic
jam, and follow the herd back to the barn.
The most brilliant act that Gyp performed occurred
when Father was returning a male sheep which he had
borrowed from a man who lived many miles to the north.
While the ram was being led through a pasture where
Bears, Bibles and a Bay
there were other sheep, he made a sudden dash to join
his kind, and jerked the lead rope from Father's grasp.
All efforts to retrieve the dragging rope merely frightened
the flock away. Without being commanded to, Gyp joined
in the chase. In a moment he was among the sheep, scat-
tering them in every direction. As they fled, the ram re-
mained behind. Gyp did not touch the runaway, but kept
dodging in front of him to impede him, so that Father
could catch up and take the rope.
Gyp became an excellent hunting dog, and was espe-
cially good as a coon dog. However, unless the game ap-
peared to be getting away, his work was mainly to tree
the coons and it was in connection with this work that
poor Gyp met misfortune. One night when Father was on
a coon hunt and after several raccoons had been bagged,
he observed what appeared to be a large coon escaping
through the bushes. He directed the dog to go after it,
and Gyp immediately obeyed. It was then discovered that
the retreating creature in the underbrush was not a rac-
coon, but an extra large hedgehog. In some way, our
faithful dog got so close to the hedgehog's tail that he
was struck, near his heart, with sharp, penetrating spines.
Father and my brother Ruel, who was with him that
night, strove to save Gyp's life. Using the light of a torch,
they managed to find and extract many of the piercing
quills, but some of them had broken off, or had been im-
bedded too deeply. These quills, barbed like a fish hook,
had a tendency to work toward the vital organs.
Taking turns, Father and Ruel carried Gyp in their
arms, hoping that they could get him home alive; but it
soon became evident that he was growing weaker and
Bears, Bibles and a Boy
weaker. When they were within a mile of our house there
was a final faint whine of pain, and then the soft, limp
body lay against Ruel's breast.
As the hunters returned, the first question Mother
asked was, "Where is Gyp?" Ruel was too overcome with
emotion to give an answer, so Father had to relate what
had happened. "But/' sobbed Mother, "just a few minutes
ago I heard him scratch on the door. When I went to let
him in he wasn't there/' I like to think that the One who
careth for all His creatures, and notes the fall of a single
sparrow, permitted us this sign that the life of a noble
dog is not lost forever.
MY FIRST TESTIMONIAL
T HAS been said that the heroes of fic-
tion are usually the third son of their father, and that we
do not have more heroes because we do not have more
third sons! I was the third son of my father, and was given
the middle name David for the shepherd boy who slew
the giant Goliath, but I never felt very heroic. Whenever
I went into the bear country with Father, I kept close to
him; and while lie was hoping that we might run across
some large animals, I was hoping that we wouldn't. It
also gave me no pleasure to walk in solitude on dark,
country roads at night I think that my brothers had
built up fear in me by scaring me in various ways when I
was too young to follow them on their longer fishing trips.
In the fall, when it was time to turn pigs into pork, I
list
Bears, Bibles and a Boy
preferred to keep out o sight and hearing until all the
butchering had been completed. I was seventeen before I
axed my first chicken for dinner. On this occasion my sister
Clara would have had to do the disagreeable job, if I had
proved too chicken-hearted, so I became heroic for the
moment, but not boastfully so. I did not have the same
sentiment about fish, but I did make a practice of crack-
ing their heads with a stick to end their flopping and gasp-
ing for breath.
As a child I was not very robust, and did not eat the
kind of food to make one strong. For a long time corn
bread and pork nauseated me. Sweetened water seemed
more appetizing than milk. To make matters worse, I fell
through the boards over the cow stable and hurt my head
to such an extent that I became afflicted with seizures. I
did not have convulsions, but I would run wildly through
the fields in great agony. One night I was found standing
over the pork barrel, with the butcher knife raised as if
to stab anything that might come at me. Awakening my
father on another occasion, I told him that a man out
in the road had brought something for us from the store;
and as he started to look out the window I caught him by
H4 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
his whiskers and gave them a yank I suppose he attri-
buted my strange behavior to some kind of nightmare.
After a few years the seizures left me, but I still
suffered from frequent, severe headaches. Whenever I
went to the store, or rode any distance on the jolting cart,
I would return home with a headache and upset stomach.
Mother would put cold cloths on my forehead and do all
in her power to relieve me, but it usually took two or
three days for me to recover. Deliverance from this afflic-
tion came to me in an unexpected manner.
Father had to go to Chestertown, twelve miles to the
west. Since this was a two-day trip for the oxen, I was
invited to go for the long ride, and also to visit with an
aunt and uncle and two cousins who lived in this village.
Toward night a dull pain on one side of my forehead
foretold a night of great distress. Hearing of my symptom,
my aunt suggested that I try her remedy, which was
pheno-caffein pills. The prescribed dose was two to three
pills every hour until relief came, but because of my youth
she gave me half a pill. I am pleased to report that that
tiny bit of medicine effected a complete cure. The next
day I bought a twenty-five-cent box of the magic pellets
at the drug store; and from that time I never had to fear,
or endure, another headache. Whenever I felt an attack
of the old torment coming on, I took a nibble of my pills.
And the best of it was that instead of becoming an addict,
the old malady gradually left me entirely.
It has been said that when patients recover, the
Lord is praised; but when they die, the doctor is blamed.
I took pains to write a letter of gratitude to the makers of
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 115
pheno-caffein, and received in reply a free box of the
pills. In the box I found some printed testimonials, with
mine among them. That was the first time I had a bit o
my writing accepted.
CHORES AND MAKING MONEY
ANY people think of life on a farm
as a serene and ideal way of living, but there is another
side to be considered. Farming is as full of cares, thorns,
and thistles as the land which Adam tilled after he was
driven from the Garden of Eden. There are droughts,
blights, hail, and frosts. Weeds spring out of the soil to
choke the tender plants, and armies of insects come to
plunder and devour.
Up in our rural section we learned farming the hard
way. The plowing and harrowing was done with the oxen,
but all the planting, hoeing and harvesting was done by
hand. I began dropping corn and seed potatoes at an early
age. Using a short scythe, I learned to mow while still in
my early teens. We raked up the hay by hand, and pitched
it onto the two-wheeled cart. The only excitement oc-
curred when we sometimes had to hurry under a hay-
stack to keep from getting wet during a sudden thun-
116
Bears, Bibles and a Boy
derstorm. Still, we looked forward to the harvest, the
rewarding part of fanning. The hope of extra-large pump-
kins and big, smooth potatoes which might win a prize at
the fair kept up our interest in the work.
One of my most monotonous chores was churning,
which I did with an up-and-down plunger in a tall earthen
crock. In the cold weather there seemed to be a tribe of
obstinate witches who kept the butter from coming. The
only way to beat them was by following the suggestion
of Robert Burns: '"Whether striving, suffering, or forbear-
ing, miracles can be wrought by persevering."
Another tiresome job was turning the grindstone. Our
land, if not founded on a rock, was at least inlaid with
them, and they were forever getting in the way of scythes
and axes. I have heard that when the lady who much later
became my wife was a little girl, she took a hammer and
badly mutilated her father's grindstone. I had the same in-
clination, but never had the courage to show how I felt.
Even when one has the improved type of grindstone
which operates by foot power, there are still difficulties.
The lesson that it is much better to take time to sharpen
your tools than it is to go to work with dull ones remained
with me, and later in an essay contest on the meaning of
education, I won first prize by illustrating with the old
grindstone.
Since our wealth was our cattle and crops and the
resources around us in the mountains and woods, ready
cash was sometimes at a minimum* However, we never
had to go hungry, and although our furnishings were
modest they were adequate, and replaced when necessary.
In fact, I recall a time when Mother called attention to
Z1 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
the lamentable state of our silverware by placing a badly
worn spoon at the head of the table. When Father saw
it beside his plate, he picked up the spoon, carried it to
the door, and threw it as far as he could. Soon after that
he brought home a shiny set of knives, forks, and spoons.
It was always a special occasion when Father got a
check for his furs. He had these checks cashed at the vil-
lage store where he had to accept a lot of change. When
he got home, and after supper and the devotions were
finished, he would spread his money out on the table for
an extra counting. Father not only shared some of the
coins with us, but liked to give Mother money for a new
dress or bright material.
As soon as we children were old enough, we were
taught to earn money for ourselves; and though paper
and magazine routes did not exist in our mountain district,
there were some interesting substitutes. We climbed all
the mountains that surrounded us, looking for the sweet,
juicy blueberries which were so good for pies and pud-
dings, and which we could also sell for ten cents a quart.
The wider views that met our eyes as we ascended the
several peaks were also an exhilarating reward, and as I
looked out over the many mountains, lakes, ponds, and
streams, I felt an urge to see the things that lay beyond
them.
As we traveled from one mountain ledge to another,
we frequently saw the places where bears had been feed-
ing on the berries, and on one trip my eldest brother and
I disturbed a sleeping bear. As the animal stood on his
hind legs to see who was encroaching on his wild domain,
we came face to face. But only for a moment. Even though
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 119
the beast had the right of possession, he seemed more than
willing to leave. My brother hastened his departure by
throwing a pail with such force that the bear did not turn
out for small shrubbery, but broke bushes down in his
straight-line rush away from us.
Father encouraged us to plant and tend an extra
patch of potatoes, which we could sell to earn money for
our winter clothing. We were so far from the market that
we never acquired much wealth for our labor. With a one-
man saw which had been presented to me, I cut and split
a cord of white birch wood for use in a kitchen range,
but the man who bought it was so slow in paying that I
had to take my pay in peanuts, on the installment plan,
as I called at his small store.
We three brothers imitated our father by learning to
trap small game; and the merchant at the store once re-
marked that if the Roberts boys needed a shirt or a pair
of overalls, they brought in the pelt of a skunk or a mink
to swap for the article.
We caught and sold trout during the summer months.
And at times we kept them alive in a pail of water to sell
to people who had fishponds. In such cases the poor fish
had to be caught twice.
When I needed a Fourth Reader for the fall term of
school, I caught over a hundred small frogs, which I sold
to fishermen for bait. The trip to the store was a memo-
rable one, for not only was I to have the coveted book, but
I was to pay for it myself. This was my first step in the
process of education, and it was a rather wobbly step for
brother Ruel and I drove down the lake road with a very
ancient horse and crude homemade buggy. After every
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Bears, Bibles and a Boy
step the horse seemed to have to meditate a while before
taking the next one, and on our return trip darkness over-
took us. This horse evidently believed that the night was
made for sleeping, for when we were within two miles of
home he lay down by the side of the road and called it a
day. Ruel and I had to walk home; but I had my book, and
though it had been impregnated with the aroma of tobacco
smoke from the general store, it smelled and looked good
to me.
I also had a brief career as a salesman at the little
village then called Bartonville, down at the outlet of
Brant Lake, where the general store was located. Sister
Clara had bought some celluloid, from which she made
some very fine napkin rings. Fastened as they were with
pink ribbon, they had such appeal to the eyes of the ladies
that I sold my entire stock in one day. Since I had called
at all the houses and supplied the market, the business
ended almost as soon as it started.
Ginseng roots formed another source of income for
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 121
us. This plant, so highly prized by the Chinese as a cure-
all, grew in our woods and in many places round about.
In a way, looking for ginseng is like prospecting for gold.
We loved to wander through the woods, looking for the
plant with the golden tubers. At one time ginseng was
very abundant in the Brant Lake area, but forest fires
had destroyed much of it by the time I came along. What
was left, though, was all the more valuable. One pound of
the dried, man-shaped root was worth three or four dol-
lars, and eventually carried a much higher price. I think
we could have become rich had we seen the possibilities
of cultivating the plant and giving up space for it. The
discouraging feature is that it takes about seven years for
a seed to produce a sizable tuber.
Once when I was with Father I gathered seed which
I planted in our woods, but a number of years later some-
one found it and dug it all up, without planting more seed.
It was that attitude of grabbing all one could reach, with-
out thinking of conservation, which helped to make gin-
seng scarce.
Even when he did not have a bear to skin, Father
made his inspection trips profitable by taking time to
search for ginseng. When he found more than he could
dig before dark, he would sleep in the woods and finish
the work in the morning. If it looked like rain, he would
cut enough boughs to lean against a large fallen tree for
shelter; and when he wanted to make a fire, he could find
tinder in the hollow butt of such a tree. Once, when he
was looking for a suitable place for his lodging, he noticed
some fresh earth at the end of a tree which the wind had
blown down, and discovered a newly-made den which a
122, Bears, Bibles and a Boy
bear had dug under the upturned roots. Gathering an
armful of dry leaves to serve as clean sheets, Father en-
joyed a good night in the bear's bedroom. Fortunately,
the bear must have spent the night out. In the morning
Father dug up the rest of the valuable roots and returned
home with a big bag of them.
I can vouch for Father's peaceful slumber in the
forest, for one night when I was with him we slept in an
open shanty which porcupines were gnawing to pieces.
We had no lantern, but judging by the noises, the animals
were converging upon us from all directions. The frogs
were croaking in the nearby creek, owls answered one
another from a distance, and hedgehogs kept up their
persistent scraping on the few remaining boards of the
shanty. I must confess to a sleepless night, but if Father
heard these forest sounds at all, they were a soothing
symphony which lulled him into blissful repose.
Later a man who had come up from the city to do
some fishing in the vicinity was camping in this same
dilapidated shack, and had a frightening experience. He
thought the owls were wolves coming to attack him; and
furthermore, as he excitedly explained to Father the next
morning, a lumberman apparently bereft of his reason had
been driving oxen on one of the mountains during the
night. He explained that the lumberman must have been
skidding logs, for he continually called to his oxen:
"Whoa, whoa-ho!"
"I must have caught a bear," said Father. "That's the
kind of noise they make when they're in distress/'
The city man, fearing bears even more than phantom
lumberjacks, remained close to his camp until he saw
Bears, Bibles and a Boy
Father returning with a bearskin on his back. With relief
and delight he accepted Father's gift of bear steak which
could be shared with friends who might have teased him
if he had only an empty basket to show for the fishing trip.
It so happened that our own property provided me
with one more source for earning money. The brook which
wound its way through the length of our farm was not
only interesting because of the traces of former beaver
dams and the pools where we caught the speckled trout,
but also because of a peculiar rock formation. Beginning
at a waterfall a few hundred feet back of our house, and
turning at a right angle, the brook descended into a minia-
ture canyon with rapids and a natural stone bridge, and
then disappeared underground. A little farther down were
two round, well-like openings where we could hear the
water rushing below. We often took good-sized fish from
this place. On the west side of the rise the stream bubbled
forth again and flowed on toward Brant Lake.
High on the steep hillside, above the place where the
brook vanished, I had observed a cavity among the rocks.
So far as I remember, no one had expressed any curiosity
about this, and since it looked to me very much like a
bear's den, I kept away from it until I was about thirteen
years old. That summer a young minister who liked to
hike and fish stopped at our house. Since there is boldness
in numbers, I told him about the mysterious cave and we
agreed to explore it.
With a lantern we crawled between some narrow
ledges, followed a downward fissure and were soon in a
large room with stalagmites and stalactites. About two
124 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
hundred feet from the entrance of the cave, our progress
was blocked by a dark pond of water.
No treasures or Indian relics were found, but later
something of real financial value developed for me. People
who spent their summer vacations at the lake heard about
the cave and came to see it. I served as guide, and while
I did not charge for my services, I nevertheless received
many pieces of silver. With an eye for business, I put up
a sign over our front door: CAMP CAVES. On the whole,
I had no regrets about looking into this hole among the
rocks.
SCHOOL DAYS AND DISTRACTIONS
ETWEEN two trout streams which
flow into the head of Brant Lake, and just where a second
dead-end dirt road leads up the valley, stood our weather-
beaten schoolhouse, a one-room structure where all grades
were taught. Attached to one side of the building was a
woodshed, usually well-filled with seasoned birch, beech,
and maple. As if to protect us from the cold north and
east winds, seven small mountains curved around in the
shape of a horseshoe, for good luck or, as some felt, an
oxbow to represent service. First, Second, and Third
Brothers were on the east side, a mountain for each of the
Roberts boys. Thunderbolt stood in the center of the
bend, then extending around to the north were Stevenson,
Chub-pond, and Big Hill. To the south, surrounded by
lower hills, lay the shining water of the lake.
If the schoolhouse had ever been painted, not a trace
of red remained when I began to seek learning there, But
125
22,6 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
reading, writing, arithmetic, spelling, geography, physiol-
ogy, and American History were taught year after year.
We never graduated, but kept going over the same funda-
mentals, progressing through the First, Second, Third, and
Fourth Reader books until we, or our parents, felt we had
learned all there was to learn before taking up full-time
work on the farm or in the nearby towns.
The location of our school must have been conducive
to learning, for though our teachers had little more educa-
tion than that provided by a district school, there was no
Johnny among us who was not taught to read. In my own
case, I marvel that I absorbed from my books and the
recitations of others the little knowledge which has re-
mained with me from those days. At that time, we did our
arithmetic and wrote lists of words and sentences on
slates. We took these to the teacher for correction, after
which the slates were cleaned for further use. At school
the blackboards were used in the same way. Paper would
have been too expensive.
Our home-study work during the long winter eve-
nings was done by the light of candles. Our parents, fearing
that kerosene lamps might break, or explode and set the
house on fire, were reluctant to make a change. They
thought that candles were safer to have on the table, to
carry upstairs when we went to bed, and to show the way
to vegetable bins and shelves of preserves in the cellar.
Even after my sisters brought us oil lamps from the city,
Father preferred to read his Bible by candlelight. At times
it was my task to help make the candles. Long cotton
wicks, tied to small, round sticks, were inserted in hollow
forms, and the melted fat of sheep was poured in to
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 127
harden into what were known as tallow candles. Gas and
electric bills were unknown on our road.
During the spring and summer, the urge to go fishing
seemed much stronger than the urge to learn arithmetic or
spelling. Moreover, at times nature itself conspired against
my education. As I looked out the schoolhouse window I
frequently saw a fish hawk circle over the lake, make a
sudden dive, and then, with some difficulty, bear his prize
aloft.
Further outside distraction was offered by many red-
winged blackbirds, orioles, and scarlet tanagers which
found the shrubbery along the swampy shore land an
ideal feeding ground and nesting place. A major diversion
occurred one day when all of us were permitted to go out
in the yard to see the body of a big bear which a neighbor
had dispatched as it was swimming across the lake.
Recently when we asked our grandson, who had just
begun to attend kindergarten, what he liked best about
school, he answered, "I like the retesses." At our country
school, we too enjoyed the recesses, when we played tag,
three-old-cat and four-old-cat baseball. Personally, I liked
fishing better. Playing Post Office might have been as
interesting as fishing, but the truth was that up our way
nobody dared to loss anybody at least not when some-
one might be watching.
Occupied as we were with fanning, making maple
sugar, fishing, trapping, hunting and going to school in
the little building which never got its red coat of paint,
there were few dull moments in our lives at Brant Lake.
We did take time out for jumping on the hay, climbing
228 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
trees, playing hide-and-seek, and swimming. Our best
place for swimming was a half-mile down the road at the
Bentiey farm, where a sandy beach was easy on our feet,
but there was a swimming hole in our brook which we
made deeper and wider by means of a sod dam. It was fun
to do this, and also to remove the obstruction afterwards
to cause a miniature flood.
When a fair was held at Pottersville in the fall of the
year, we had a few rides on the merry-go-round, but for
the most part we found riding on a load of hay or on a
sled through the deep snow to gather sap more satisfying.
Brother Ruel, at the age of nine, conceived the idea of
hitching his sled to the tail of a young ox. The sudden
acceleration and the terrific spill which resulted caused
him to lose all confidence in this method of transporta-
tion, and he was content to take the slower rides with the
rest of us.
The nearest country church was some seven miles
distant, too far to go behind slow oxen. Father, who was
an indefatigable walker, attended church quite often, but
the rest of us only in the summertime when ministers
came to our schoolhouse to hold services. During the sum-
mer we also maintained a Sunday School, of which I was
once appointed the superintendent at the age of twelve.
But unless there was a Sunday School to attend, Sun-
days seemed extra long. We all were too full of vitality to
enjoy being quiet and sitting still. Walks along the brook
and through the woods broke the monotony, and we were
allowed to crack nuts and pop corn. Since Jesus and His
disciples walked through a corn field, shucking and eating
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 129
the kernels as they went along, it was not considered
wrong for us to do something similar. We were grateful
for the liberal ruling of our parents on this point. I sup-
pose, however, that we were not behaving in an overly
pious manner when we pretended that the exploding corn
was ammunition in a fierce battle for our independence. I
still recommend the use of popcorn as a safe way for small
children to celebrate the Fourth of July. They can fire off
these crackers and eat them, and no one is hurt.
Checkers and dominoes were occasionally played
during the long, winter evenings, but "Authors" was the
only card game allowed.
Christmas in our valley was observed with simplicity.
In our stockings we found such articles as hickory nuts,
candy, and a bit of money, but we felt rich nonetheless.
After all, riches are a matter of the heart The tin elephant
on wheels which an older sister gave me one Christmas
pleased me as much as a new automobile did thirty years
later. And I have a clear recollection of joyful anticipation
when some member of the family confided to me that
Mother had a special Christmas present for me. After
peeking into things in vain to find it, I was not disap-
pointed when I received a pair of bright suspenders, proof
that I was on my way to manhood.
A community Christmas Tree was put up in the
schoolhouse, and the various families would bring their
gifts. At the right moment Old Santa brought his reindeer
to a stop outside and Austin Ross, a Civil War veteran
with a natural Santa face, would burst into the room to
start the festivities. A few Christmas songs would be sung
130 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
and some of the children called on for recitations. I was
always expected to rattle off some verses which had been
laboriously memorized.
Aside from the community Christmas tree, there were
not many social events to be enjoyed in our neighborhood.
Occasionally we had a community picnic, and with the
coming of the summer people to Brant Lake, we were
sometimes treated to Fourth-of-July fireworks. A man
who owned a beautiful house on the shore of the lake
generally invited the whole neighborhood to a lawn party,
where paper balloons floated up toward the sky. Fire
rockets, Roman candles, and other dazzling illuminations
were discharged over the water. Even though we had had
a long, hard day in the hay field, Father was always will-
ing to hitch the oxen to our bumpy, two-wheeled hay cart
and take us to the July Fourth celebration.
Although very strict in his religious beliefs, Father
was quite liberal in some ways. He not only permitted us
to attend the county fair, where various worldly things
were on display, but he even entered his oxen in a race
and won first prize. Of course, I was fascinated by the
gambling machines, and ventured a nickel, which I lost
but I kept this secret to myself. I kept quiet also about
some rank cigars which I won by throwing balls at a
dodging clown's head. The punishment that I brought on
myself by smoking the cigars was severe enough.
When a circus which was booked for Chestertown,
twelve miles away, gave its first performance, my older
brother and I were there. We had obtained Father's con-
sent on the ground that it would be educational to see
the elephant. However, considering the side show and all,
130 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
and some of the children called on for recitations. I was
always expected to rattle off some verses which had been
laboriously memorized.
Aside from the community Christmas tree, there were
not many social events to be enjoyed in our neighborhood.
Occasionally we had a community picnic, and with the
coming of the summer people to Brant Lake, we were
sometimes treated to Fourth-of-July fireworks. A man
who owned a beautiful house on the shore of the lake
generally invited the whole neighborhood to a lawn party,
where paper balloons floated up toward the sky. Fire
rockets, Roman candles, and other dazzling illuminations
were discharged over the water. Even though we had had
a long, hard day in the hay field, Father was always will-
ing to hitch the oxen to our bumpy, two-wheeled hay cart
and take us to the July Fourth celebration.
Although very strict in his religious beliefs, Father
was quite liberal in some ways. He not only permitted us
to attend the county fair, where various worldly things
were on display, but he even entered his oxen in a race
and won first prize. Of course, I was fascinated by the
gambling machines, and ventured a nickel, which I lost
but I kept this secret to myself. I kept quiet also about
some rank cigars which I won by throwing balls at a
dodging clown's head. The punishment that I brought on
myself by smoking the cigars was severe enough.
When a circus which was booked for Chestertown,
twelve miles away, gave its first performance, my older
brother and I were there. We had obtained Father's con-
sent on the ground that it would be educational to see
the elephant. However, considering the side show and all,
Bears, Bibles and a Boy
we saw a great deal more than the elephant. The ease and
grace with which men and women, scantily dressed in
tights, turned somersaults and performed on the trapeze,
and the skill of the cowboys in roping cattle, put ideas in
my head.
On the first convenient day after returning from the
circus, brother Ruel and I shut ourselves in the barn, piled
up some hay, climbed up to a beam, and began our
acrobatic training. I do not know just how Ruel came out,
for he declined to tell. I was equally reticent about what
happened to me in my attempt to spin around in the air.
It may be sufficient to say the first-magnitude stars which
I discovered as my knees collided with my forehead con-
vinced me that swinging bars and acrobatic turns in mid-
air might be a hard way to earn a living.
Not to be entirely disillusioned, though, I decided to
try my hand at the cowboy tricks. For convenient prac-
tice just at this time, we had a sleek, black heifer. I made
a slipknot in a rope, threw the loop at the frightened
creature, and, after several tries, succeeded in lassoing
her around the neck. As I held to the rope she bolted for
her freedom, keeled over on her head, and came up with
a broken horn. Mortified that I had marred the appear-
ance of the beautiful young cow, and fearful of what
Father might think of my awkward prank, all my visions
of becoming a circus celebrity faded away.
Lest anyone think that I lacked the perseverance
which is essential to success, I should mention my experi-
ence in learning to ride a bicycle. When my brother John
rode home from Vermont on the first bicycle that we had
seen on our rocky road, I was determined to learn to ride
132 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
the thing. However, even though the seat was lowered as
far down as it could be, my legs were not long enough.
When the pedals were up I could push them down for a
couple of inches, but then had to wait until they came up
again. This maneuver hardly provided enough momentum
for balancing the vehicle, but by mounting and pushing
off from a big rock by the side of the road I could ride a
few yards. Always, just as I would get started on a slight
down grade, the sprocket chain, or one of the solid rubber
tires, would come off. Without exaggeration I can say that
I must have fallen into the dusty road a thousand times.
Eventually, of course, I learned to balance the high and
heavy bicycle, and experienced the thrill of triumph.
By using foot pressure on the front tire for braking
purposes, I coasted down the hills to school. At times the
balky bike brought me humiliation, as when the chain
came off the sprocket on a bridge and both boy and
bicycle fell into the brook, but at other times I was the
envy of my schoolmates as they ran along beside me, and
great was my glory.
FISHING: THE FAVORITE PASTIME
E BOYS thought our father showed
wisdom at its best when, on rainy days, he told us to quit
work in the cornfield and go fishing. Rain was good for
the crops, and the fish were easier to catch on such days.
Even the trip through the wet brush was a reminder of
the treat ahead, for we knew the brooks and pools where
the best fish were likely to be, and Father had taught us
how to catch them.
We progressed rapidly from the twine and bent-pin
stage to that of the stronger lines and steel hooks, and
became ardent fishermen. We loved best to fish for the
lusty trout In accordance with Father's instruction, we
learned how to use long ash fishpoles, and to approach
the pools quietly, taking care to see that we cast no re-
flection on the water to frighten the fish.
On rainy days it did not take us much time to get
from the fields of growing things to our favorite brooks.
133
Bears, Bibles and a Boy
Getting our tackle together was a simple process. Hastily
we dug angleworms, put our fish lines which were
wound on pieces of dry corncobs in our pockets, and
started off through the woods and over the hills. On our
way we cut fishing rods to which we tied our lines when
we reached the brook. Sometimes we spent an entire day
fishing in a soaking rain, with water running down our
backs, arms, and legs, but we always returned home with
good strings of speckled trout and great appetities.
As Brant Lake was only a half mile from our house,
we also did considerable lake-fishing for pickerel, bass,
perch, and bullheads. During the early spring, when the
pickerel came near the shore to sun themselves, we
speared them or shot them with a rifle. I never learned the
art of spearing fish, but one day when the lake had
receded, leaving a sizable pickerel in a small pool from
which there was no escape, I thought I would have a
chance to try my luck. At that moment the poor fish,
frightened at my approach, made a dash for freedom and
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 135
came to a flopping stop on dry ground, several feet from
die water. Not having the heart to impale the fish in his
position of disadvantage, I picked it up and carried it
home intact. So far as I know, this was a new method of
landing fish.
During the long winter months we added to our food
supply by fishing through the ice. This was not all fun,
for we frequently had to cut holes through ice that was
from eighteen inches to two feet thick. It was no boy's
job to make eight or more such holes, but for some reason
we put more zest into that kind of work than we usually
did in chopping wood. When the holes were ready we
used a small hook to catch perch which, in turn, we put
on a larger hook for pickerel bait. We then continued
fishing through the same holes. After all the lines had
been set, it "was interesting to watch the various flags
as they moved, now slightly as the perch slowly swam
about, and now more actively when the pickerel came
near to frighten them. While the average weight of the
pickerel was from two to three pounds, we were sure
that there were much larger ones to be caught.
I was ten years old when I did my first fishing through
the ice. My brother Ruel was eager to try out some new
tackle that he had bought Although he could see that I
was anxious to go with him he did not offer to take me,
thinking me too young to begin ice-fishing. In addition
he had succeeded in getting some minnows, which were
thought to be irresistible bait, and he didn't want to share
them with his inexperienced kid brother.
However, luck was with me on this particular mild
Monday. Monday was the day when Mother did her wash-
136 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
ing, and it was Ruel's job to get the water from the brook.
He was in such a hurry to get his lines set that he offered
to give me three of his smallest bait fish and let me go
with him if I would do his work for him. The offer was
accepted, and the tubs were filled in record time.
Some time previously, in anticipation of this happy
event, I had tied together several short pieces to make
myself a line long enough for the deep-water angling. To
this I had fastened a three-way hook, and so was ready
to take my share of the big ones as soon as the weather
got warmer.
When I reached the lake I selected a spot quite a
distance from the favorite location, which was already
occupied by Ruel's six strong lines. I hacked a hole
through the thick ice, put a minnow on my hook, and
waited for a hungry fish to bite. Since my patience was
not quickly rewarded, I walked over to see Ruel. He was
not having much luck.
On my return to my improvised tip-up I found all
the slack line pulled into the water. The stick to which
the end of the line had been fastened was drawn across
the hole. When I took hold of the line and felt the heavy
weight on it, my excitement was unbounded. But I was
afraid that some parts of the knotted string might break
with the stress and, moreover, since I felt no lively jerks,
it was possible that I might have only weeds on my hook.
I kept hauling in and finally a big mottled head came up
through the rather small opening, and I had my fish safely
out on the ice. Loud shouts of triumph brought my
brother to me at top speed. Ruel could hardly believe his
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 137
eyes, for there before us lay a pickerel perhaps more
technically a pike exactly three feet long.
At my age, I was not tall enough to keep my fish's tail
from dragging on the snow, but I insisted nevertheless on
carrying him all the way back to our house. Pride must
have gleamed on me like the morning sun when I held
my catch up to be admired and announced, "Look, I
caught myself a fish."
Some four miles over the mountains to the north of
our house lay an enchanted kke, named after and pro-
nounced like the Pharaoh of ancient Egypt. Perhaps the
mountain, towering beside it somewhat in the shape of a
pyramid, suggested the name. Many exciting encounters
with bears occurred under the cliffs of Pharaoh Moun-
tain and its companion to the east, Old Treadway. How-
ever, we Roberts boys were mainly interested in the excel-
lent trout of this deep, cool, secluded, and picturesque
body of water. Here in this two-mile-long and mile-wide
lake were the kind of fish that we liked best, and, in addi-
tion, they were usually larger in size and of superior,
pink-meated color.
One man whom we knew claimed to Lave taken a
five-pound brookie there one windy day, and, occasion-
ally, others of two and three pounds. Father was a worthy
follower of Izaak Walton in fishing brooks, but he had
never learned how to catch trout in Pharaoh Lake. Many
times when I went to a bear trap with him, we spent a
few hours trolling there, but never caught a single fish.
My older brothers had no better luck. Although Mother
i^S Bears, Bibles and a Boy
would ask us to bring her some of these special trout, we
could never seem to get them to bite. Such a situation for
otherwise respectable anglers had to be changed.
I had no difficulty in persuading a relative to join
me on a camping trip one summer during which we
hoped to discover the secret of catching those coveted
fish. Loading our bicycles with such supplies as we could
carry, and also afford, we pedaled to the head of Brant
Lake. Then, pushing and pulling the bicycles over the
rocky remains of an old logging road, we traveled another
five miles to the outlet of Pharaoh. At this point we took a
boat, for which we had made arrangement, and rowed
another mile up the creek to an ideal camping place called
Watch Rock.
After supper we expected to lie down to pleasant
slumber on the sturdy and unyielding primeval mattresses,
but sleep did not come easily. In order to eliminate weight
we had brought only thin cotton blankets, which were
easily penetrated by the crisp mountain air. The only way
to endure the discomfort was to get up and keep the fire
going. Imitating the Indians, we made a small fire and
hovered near it, catching short naps between the shivers.
Up with the sun, we went forth to attempt what so
few people had been able to accomplish. At first, with not
another person in sight, we trolled around the shores and
out in the middle of the lake, but caught nothing but
sunfish. Eventually we saw another camper, a sun-tanned
and wrinkled Irishman who explained to us that he had
come out to get a fish or two for his dinner. Mr. McGuire,
for this was his name, was not very talkative, and ap-
parently not anxious to reveal any tricks that he knew
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 139
about catching fish; and when we inquired about the trail
up the mountain where we might get some blueberries,
he was equally vague. He said, *Tve been up, and taken
others up, but I never go in the same place once."
As we were watching the veteran fisherman we saw
him drop his oars suddenly, seize his fishpole, and give a
long, swift pull on it. Having set the hook, he pulled in
his line carefully by hand, and at the side of his boat used
a net to take in a sizable trout. We saw also that he had a
heavier sinker than we had brought with our tackle, which
indicated that he had been trolling his bait down in deep,
cool water.
It didn't take us long to remedy our failure to fish
farther below the surface. Down by the outlet of the lake,
we found some big nails which we used instead of lead.
Luck began to come our way. We caught three trout for
supper. The next day we knded five, and the following
day, eight. Mr. McGuire, not ready to give us too much
credit, explained our success with these words: "Some-
times the trout like nails better than they do lead." Un-
daunted by this dour appraisal, we came back on sub-
sequent trips with plenty of lead sinkers, and have been
catching our full share of these wonderful fish ever since.
The sheer joy of camping under the pines and among
the cedars of any one of the three islands of Pharaoh
was a good vacation in itself. The work of building or re-
pairing the fireplace, finding and arranging flat stones for
tables and seats, and gathering wood, both for cooking
and for a campfire in the evening, was more like play than
labor.
In the earlier days, pine stumps stood everywhere, like
140 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
gravestones in a cemetery, reminding one of the great
trees which had once crashed to the earth. The stumps
themselves were no dwarfs, but two and three feet in
diameter and some of them five feet high, having been
cut down by men who stood on deep packed snow. These
remnants of forest giants, with roots clinging to stones
and ledges like the tentacles of a huge octopus, made ex-
cellent firewood. To entertain friends on a dark evening
cheered by such a fire, and then serve an early breakfast
of trout, griddlecakes and maple syrup, was an experience
long and pleasantly remembered.
If I seem to be approaching fantasy in calling this
lake with the ancient Egyptian name "enchanted," I will
mention an unusual phenomenon in justification. It oc-
curred on an afternoon when I was fishing with a friend
who had never been to Pharaoh before, and who doubted
that we could catch anything. But the wind was just right,
and our luck the best that I had ever known. We pulled
in trout as if they were on a waiting list.
Presently, coming down from the north, a thin column
of rain appeared, and then another from the east. As
I heard the sound of raindrops on the trees, I began row-
ing toward our tent on Little Island. I hoped that the
steady west wind, which was bending the sheets of rain
backward, might prevail and keep us from getting wet.
However, the roar of the approaching storm encouraged
me to quicken my speed. It was fortunate that I did this,
for as we reached shelter the currents of air which had
been coming from three directions converged on the lake
and gave us an exhibition of something which I had never
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 141
seen before and have not seen since The Dance of the
Mistmaids.
In a space about the size of a merry-go-round, liquid
sprays rose and fell and revolved rapidly in a mad pursuit
of each other. The fantastic dance lasted no more than half
a minute, but in this short time the water was churned
into foamy waves which expanded in widening circles to
cover all the lake and wash all the shores. I do not know
how our old flat boat would have stood up against the
freakish wind and waves, and was satisfied to watch the
show which nature provided for us from a safe observa*
tion point.
GOOD NEIGHBORS
/HE
HE Good Neighbor policy was in full
operation up our way seventy-five years ago. When new
comforters were to be made for winter use, the ladies
came together to sit and sew and talk around the quilting
frames. Now and then someone would take out her snuff
box. Conversations covered such important matters as the
number of jars of blueberries, blackberries, and other pre-
serves put up for winter use. Ideas were exchanged about
the making of mince pies, sausage meat, and the smoking
of hams. As the womenfolk of that day did not see each
other as frequently as they might now, there was much
friendly curiosity concerning household matters and neigh-
borly doings.
Of course, when children were not around the ladies
spoke in low voices of the stork and when he might be
making his next trip to our valley, but keen little ears often
heard what was said. Doctors were never called on for
142
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 143
their skill in directing baby traffic, for local midwives were
more than willing to help each other. Sometimes the quiet
of the night would be disturbed by the rapid steps of a
horse and the rattle of a buggy past our door; and the next
day we would learn of a new occupant for the old wooden
cradle. To the credit of the midwives, it should be
recorded that the thirty-three tiny tots who came to live
in the four houses on what was erroneously called a "dead-
end" road were all born healthy and husky. The mothers
fared just as well.
Back in those days men helped one another put up
the framework of their buildings; and the cooperative ef-
forts, called <c bees," led to such a friendly spirit that the
hard lifting and pulling went easily. Trees that had been
cut down and hewed into long, heavy beams and girders
were matched together with amazing skill. And the work
of the women, in providing a feast, fully matched the
feats of the men. The oven-baked pork and beans, chicken
and berry pies, honey and maple syrup afforded a banquet
that supported both muscle and morale. Bill Bentley, who
was present when our barn took form, confessed to me
seventy years afterward that he ate so much honey and
bear meat on that occasion that he had to get down on
the ground and roll to ease his stomach.
With the nearest grocery store seven miles away, it
was not uncommon for a family to run out of sugar, salt,
spices, flour, or tea just as unexpected company came.
However, it was quite in order to send one of the children
to the next house, which might be a half-mile away, to
borrow.
Holding firmly that unless our righteousness exceeds
Bears, Bibles and a Boy
that of the Pharisees we will in no wise enter the King-
dom of Heaven, Father believed that good works should
accompany faith. He shared his animal oils and other
home remedies with anyone in need without charge. If
anyone happened to be seen going by our house at meal-
time, Father would hail him to come in and eat with us.
Some wives might have been annoyed at Father's hos-
pitality, for at times there was considerably less than five
loaves and two fishes to share. However, Mother always
did her part. Canned preserves, honey, and maple sweets
could be brought from the pantry at a moment's notice,
and thus she performed her own miracle of multiplying
food for hungry mouths. From experience, Father had
learned to have confidence in the ability of the Lord and
Mother to provide in times of necessity.
On one occasion, when our supper had long been
finished, a man and his son arrived from Vermont to go
on a bear hunt with Father. Mother cheerfully prepared
a late supper for the two visitors, while Father enter-
tained them with stories of his experiences. Though I had
heard these stories many times, my ears were as attentive
as those of the elderly visitor, who expressed his interest
by frequently saying, "I swan," and "I want tToiow," in a
low increduous voice. Within a few days the father and
son from Vermont were able to return home with substan-
tial proof that they had been with a skillful hunter, for
Father helped them bag a big black bear.
During the summer many vacationists came to our
house to see the white bear skin and to hear bear stories.
Father not only obliged but also talked to them about the
Bible and the love of God. As proof of his friendliness, he
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 145
made it a practice to offer his guests honey or pieces of
maple sugar.
Father's good will and sense of brotherhood went
even further. A man who was addicted to strong drink
came to live on a farm that adjoined ours, and when an
infant child died in his home, he asked Father to conduct
a funeral service since there were no regular preachers
close by. A few days later, the bereaved man visited us
to talk about heaven. He was always eager to converse
on religious themes after he had been drinking. His idea
was that the hayfields in heaven would be so free from
stones that one could mow all day without dulling one's
scythe. He also visualized acres of corn and potatoes so
clear of weeds and pests that fanners could sit in the
shade all day and watch things grow. He was sure, too,
Bears, Bibles and a Boy
that there would be no more debts and taxes. Because of
his drinking and lazy attitudes, this man was no credit to
the community, but when he became ill Father and a
group of neighbors saw to it that he had enough to eat,
and cut up a big pile of wood for him.
Some years later, when I was camping with my
family at Pharaoh Lake, a Mr. Bixbie, who frequently
came over from Lake George to fish for the Pharaoh trout,
rowed over to our island to leave us some extra treats and
supplies, as was the custom when anyone was going out.
As we talked he said that he remembered my father very
well. He explained that once when the Bixbie family was
spending a vacation at Pharaoh, they had forgotten to
include potatoes with their supplies. Father, who hap-
pened to hear of this, walked the ten miles, coming and
going, over the rugged mountain trail to bring back a
peck of potatoes. It was one of Father's typical acts of
kindness, and it was good to know that it had been so well
remembered.
BIBLE PROBLEMS
OME of our teachers endeavored to
teach us a few songs, but beyond being able to repeat the
words in a singsong fashion, I am sure that none of us
became musical. The only time that we heard an organ
was when someone brought one from the village for the
funeral service of an outstanding person. For a long time
I associated all organ music with funerals, and the louder
it was the more mournful it sounded to me. To be sure,
we children owned a few mouth organs among us, but
we did not know how to play them; we merely used them
when we felt like making some extra noise.
Mother sang at times, as she did her work about the
house, and I thought her voice was beautiful; but I was
told that the^ only time Father was ever heard to break
forth in song was when his firstxson was born. At that time
someone overheard him trying to sing "Happy Day.**
I must havesHinherited my musical disability from my
1^8 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
father, for notes and tunes have no meaning for me. To
overcome this lack, I once visited a teacher of singing
who, after trying me out on a few notes and finding that
I did not have the slightest conception of tone, gave me
up as impossible. I must have been in the class with
Adam, of whom Mark Twain has Eve reflect: "It is not
because of his singing that I love him, for when he sings
it sours the milk."
Although weak in music, and with no library within
many miles of us, we did have the Bible, Pilgrim's Prog-
ress, The Green Mountain Boys, Twenty Thousand
Leagues Under the Sea, Memoirs of General Grant, and
the two volumes by Stanley, How I Found Livingstone
and In Darkest Africa. As a gift from sister Anna, The
Christian Herald came to our house every week from the
early nineties on.
As soon as I was able to read well enough, Mother
encouraged me to read aloud the sermons by the famous
Doctor Tahnadge. Undoubtedly it was these sermons, and
an occasional one by D. L. Moody, that first gave me the
idea of becoming a minister. So deeply was I impressed by
one sermon that I went out into the pasture and endeavored
to reproduce it. Selecting a rocky ledge for my pulpit, and
the cattle and sheep for my congregation, I announced
the text, "Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs or
thistles?'' and proceeded to emphasize the main thoughts
of this challenging theme. No converts resulted, but I be-
came more fully convinced that the good fruit of the
Bible proves this book to be God's special message to
man.
As stated before, with two chapters a day for our
Bears, Bibles and a Boy
instruction and inspiration, we lived with the Bible. In-
deed, it was not Father's fault if we did not meditate upon
its precepts day and night, and make it a light to our
pathway. From the time we were old enough to sit in
chairs we were taught to remain quiet while the sacred
book was being read. Likewise, after the readings, we
were trained to ignore the rough knots in the hard spruce
floor as we kneeled during the lengthy prayers. Even if
Father returned from his trapping after we had all retired
for the night, he never failed to read and pray aloud be-
fore going to bed. When urgent tasks had to be attended
to in the morning, we got up earlier than usual, so that
there would be plenty of time for our devotions. In this
methodical manner, we proceeded from Genesis to Revela-
tion, from the Garden of Eden and the sin of man to the
vision of the glorious city of God.
Not considering it sufficient that we listen to Father s
slow reading and frequent comments, we were encou-
raged to read the Holy Book for ourselves. As soon as we
were able to read, we were presented with small, fine-
print Bibles, which we read from cover to cover. As for
myself, I think that I read my black-bound, pink-edged
pages from beginning to end at least twice. While it was
tedious to pronounce some of the longer words and to
blaze a trail through lengthy chronology, I came to think
of the experience as a trip through a desert in which I
found occasional oases with bright springs of water and
fruitful trees. Eventually, of course, I came to the richer
portions which were like promised lands flowing with
milk and honey; and I enjoyed them all the more because
of the contrasts.
150 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
Father believed that the Bible is like a road map,
revealing God's will for our future, and that not a single
Bible prophecy will fail. Before the First World War, it
was comfortable to believe that the human race was mak-
ing progress toward a goal of peace and good will. At a
church service, when an earnest young pastor explained
that God had things working so well in the world that
miracles are no longer needed, Father did not agree with
such optimistic predictions. He expected the terrible wars
which have been fought in recent years, and his grounds
were the words of St. Paul to Timothy: "This know also,
that in the last days perilous times shall come. . . . evil
men and seducers shall wax worse and worse, deceiving
and being deceived."
At the same time that he predicted the destruction
which hangs over us today, Father held that God's people
should not be anxious or fearful, for the Psalmist has said:
"Fret not thyself because of evil-doers, neither be thou
envious against the workers of iniquity. For they shall
soon be cut down like the grass, and wither as the green
herb. Trust in the Lord, and do good; so shalt thou dwell
in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed.'*
Years ago Father predicted that men would learn to
fly. He based his convictions on the words of Isaiah:
**Who are these that fly as a cloud, and as doves to their
windows?"
He had read also from the Prophet Nahum: 'The
chariots shall rage in the streets, they shall jostle one
against another in the broad ways: they shall seem like
torches, they shall run like the lightnings," and he be-
lieved this passage foretold the invention of the auto-
Bears, Bibles and a Boy j^i
mobile, with its marvelous speed and gleaming headlights.
Father had no prejudice about riding in an auto; and
though he had done most of his riding behind oxen, he
showed no fear when we once rode quite rapidly in a
Model T Ford over a bumpy road to catch a train.
Although I never heard my parents express a single
doubt about the authority of the Bible, the existence of
God, and everlasting life in heaven, I wondered about the
how and why of all things. One morning, after hearing
the story of creation read to us, I asked, "Who made
God?" When it was explained that God is "from everlast-
ing to everlasting,'' I found this difficult to comprehend.
I knew that we planted seed to raise our corn and pota-
toes, but I could not see how anything could grow when
there was no one to plant the seed. It occurred to me,
though, that some things such as fungi, which I had seen
growing on decaying trees, seemed to spring forth of
their own accord, so I reasoned that God might have come
into being in a similar way. I did not at that time consider
the mystery of the trees themselves.
At a later date I inquired about the origin of the
devil, who has made such a havoc in the home and church
and state. I was told that once upon a time, when the
angels were free to do good or evil, some of them rebelled
against God, and their leader became the archenemy of
God and man. Knowing that my father caught destructive
bears, I wanted to know why God did not catch the devil
and put an end to his evil doings. My father replied that
since man was created in the image of God with freedom
to choose obedience or disobedience, good or evil it was
his work to cooperate with God until every enemy has
152 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
been cast out and destroyed. Not being able to realize
fully the value of struggle, I was skeptical of the idea that
it is for our own best interest to have the devil around to
tempt and trip us at every turn. The age-old, baffling
problem of evil was not easily solved for me, but it made
me think.
The Bible not only raises many questions about the
universe, life, death, eternity, and God, but it also sug-
gests how those questions can be answered. It teaches us
to study, to seek, to practice, and to persevere until we
know the truth and the freedom which the truth brings.
Moreover, it gives us certain rules, such as the Golden
Rule and the Ten Commandments, to guide us along the
way. When we encounter people who do not see eye-to-
eye with us, we are not to beat out their brains, but, real-
izing that there may be a few beams in our own eyes, aim
to be of greater service to one another by a kindly ex-
change of thoughts. There is a real point to the story of
the Negro clergyman who, when asked to explain the
difference between the cherubim and seraphim which
he had so eloquently mentioned in his sermon, paused
only a moment to collect his wits, and then replied,
"There was a difference between them but they made it
up."
If there are two sides to all questions, I had a chance
to hear them presented when neighbors and friends en-
gaged in spirited Biblical discussions at our house. When-
ever the exchanges of ideas in our home threatened to
become like the wind-swept sea of Galilee, Mother Tiad a
way of bringing peace and calm to the troubled waters.
By serving her famous golden-crusted rolls and a dish of
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 153
fragrant honey, she could turn a tense situation into a
feast of happy harmony. The resulting fellowship made
it easy for all to agree that, "By this shall all men know
that ye are my disciplies, if ye have love one for another."
After hearing the Bible read so regularly, and as I
began reading it for myself, I was impressed with the
idea that I ought to take my stand as a Christian, but it
was no easy task for me to do this. I was at times on the
verge of making a prayer immediately after Father con-
cluded his very comprehensive morning prayer; but, con-
scious of the presence of my older brothers who did not
pray, I always lost my courage. On my way to the hay
field one morning, I confessed to Father that I should like
to be a Christian. He quoted me the words of Jesus, "Be-
lieve that ye receive, and ye shall have." However, as
simple as the way of faith should be to us, it seemed
baffling to me. Father was undoubtedly acting on the
principle that the best way to teach someone to swim is
to throw him into deep water where he will have to swim
or sink. There may be something to this theory, but when
someone tried it with me I came near drowning, and re-
mained fearful of deep water. I had to learn to swim grad-
ually in shallow water. The way of faith also had to be
grasped by me in low speed. My experience was also
much like that of Bunyan's pilgrim who found the way to
Mt Zion beset with miry sloughs, steep hills, dark valleys,
doubting castles, and a host of hostile forces.
My older sisters claimed that it was easy for me to
be good, but they did not know my heart. I had a temper,
and a rebellious spirit. A stone on which I stubbed my toe
154 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
as a bare-footed boy often got a bang from another stone,
and I recall a time when I was bringing a pail of water
from the brook and a bar in the gate through which I
had to pass fell upon me. Setting down the heavy pail, I
gave the bar a beating before lifting it back in place.
I was furious at my two older brothers when they
told me that I was too young to go fishing with them. As
may be expected, my greatest friction was with my
brother Ruel, who was nearly three years older. He was
more robust and stronger, and liked to lord it over me.
When I retaliated in any way, I came out less than second
best. I admit that my feelings were riled the most when I
received a switching which, as I saw it, should have been
given to Ruel, who had irritated me to the point of blows.
In spite of my fiery nature, I did not fight with our
neighbors' children, except on one occasion. This occurred
when I found a clump of large blueberries on a mountain
peak where the picking was usually poor. An older boy,
seeing my good luck, took his hat and began to beat the
Bears, Bibles and a Bay 155
bushes before my face. Being far from perfect, such a
spirit of indignation arose in me that I reached for sticks
and stones to help me defend my property. The older boy
retreated and we soon forgot the incident and remained
friends. However, I saw the need for greater self-control.
At the times when I had to be punished, I would go
out of the house, put my head against the clapboards, and
say all manner of bad words against everybody. Once I
was so angry that I took the hatchet and started to chop
down the house. My bare legs got another switching for
that folly. In school I committed my share of misde-
meanors. Instead of studying geography one afternoon, I
used a long pliable root to snare the feet of an older boy
who sat in front of me, and thus prevented him from
going to class. That prank didn't turn out to be as funny
as I thought it would be, since we were both brought up
before the class and given a good shaking.
In addition, as if the poison of the old Adam within
us did not furnish us enough resistance against character
formation, there was one boy at school more advanced
than the rest of us in knowledge of the facts of life and
their fascinating possibilities. Naturally he was eager to
impart his information, and eventually the stories passed
down the line to the younger boys. While no male in our
family was influenced to engage in undue indiscretions,
the teachings of Jesus about the wickedness of carnal
thoughts convinced us that we needed more than fig
leaves to hide our hearts from the eyes of God.
And I shall never forget the time when Father found
me back of the hog pen, playing housekeeping with a girl.
We had marked off on the ground an imaginary building,
156 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
and were just about to retire for the night when Father
came upon us with his ox whip in hand. Perhaps fearing
that we might be tempted to carry our idea of housekeep-
ing too far, he put an end to it altogether.
So far as my temper was concerned, the Bible read-
ing of Father, with such verses as, "He that is slow to
anger is better than the irughty . . ." and "Let not the
sun go down upon your wrath/' were bound to sink into
my mind and heart, and bring forth good fruit in the
place of thistles and thorns.
It was undoubtedly this home teaching which later
led me to write a verse for two old friends who, while
they had long been companions, often argued violently
when they played cards or pool or golf. Frequently they
would hurl insults at each other until these incidents
began to mar their friendship. I wrote:
Tempers and tongues, like prancing steeds,
Were meant to serve your daily needs.
The Golden Rule will help you find
A kindly way to speak your mind.
One of these friends admired the verse so much that
he had an enlarged copy hung in his game room. When
he met his chum again for a game of cards, he said, "I
think we should be a little more courteous to each other
than we have been." I trust that I myself have made some
progress in practicing what I preach.
THE LORD'S PRAYER IN A
RUNAWAY CART
URING my thirteenth year I experi-
enced a shake-up which I must relate. My brother John
and I had finished our day's work at a back-lot meadow,
had hitched the oxen to the two-wheeled cart, and were
headed for home and a warm supper. As John stopped
to close a gate behind us, the creaking of rusty hinges
must have frightened the team, for suddenly the usually
placid animals broke into a wild run. I was sitting on the
right, front end of the rickety hay rack, and just behind
me on the loose floorboards were our scythes, rakes, and
pitchforks. The start was so quick and the speed so rapid
that the only thing I could >do was hang on for dear life.
The road over which the heavy cart began to bump
and bounce had been washed out by rains, until only
cobblestones andlioles remained. Consequently, the jolt-
ing seemed sufficient to shake the rings from Saturn. To
make matters worse, the poor apology for a road led
257
158 Bears, Bibles and a Bay
down a steep grade and along the brink of a deep ravine.
Realizing the danger of my situation, I did what so many
people do under similar circumstances. I turned toward
God for help. I knew of no prayer for such a predicament
as mine, but I had been taught the two prayers, "Now I
lay me down to sleep," and "Our Father which art in
heaven." As it was no time to think of sleeping, I began
to repeat the prayer which our Lord taught his disciples
on the Mount.
While I am not positive of the manner of my praying,
I presume that I spoke aloud, as was the custom in our
home. In the language of the Psalmist, "I cried unto the
Lord in my distress/' Regardless of my uncomfortable
seat, I said, "Our Father which art in heaven, hallowed
be Thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done in
earth, as it is in heaven."
As I think back now, it is clear that the various sec-
tions of the petition were much more appropriate than
anything that I might have been able to conjure out of my
own limited vocabulary. The Divine Kingdom is one of
peace and joy, and I was desperately in need of just that.
Perhaps, too, it is God's will that we be shaken out of our
complacency, and made to realize our need of help from
above. "Give us this day our daily bread," was timely, for
I was hungry and growing more so every second; and
"Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors" was
appropriate, for it is a law of heaven that to be forgiven,
we must forgive. "And lead us not into temptation, but
deliver us from evil" was fitting, for though I was not on
the verge of breaking any of the Ten Commandments at
the time, there was the danger of breaking my neck had I
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 159
yielded to the temptation to get off the bounding cart.
Certainly I needed to be delivered from the evil of a
broken skull.
In fact, as I rode on, I was aware that there were
special dangers down the road. Just ahead there was a
sharp turn to the right, then another to the left across a
rickety log bridge. In a sort of snap~the-whip fashion, I
negotiated the first corner without a tip-over, though all
the floorboards and haying implements were shaken off,
leaving me only a three-inch-in-diameter crosspole of the
hayrack to sit on. Although in this position I was de-
cidedly more uncomfortable than when kneeling on our
hard floor, I finished the entire prayer: "Tor thine is the
kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever. Amen."
Miraculous as it may seem, at the word "Amen' * the oxen
stopped. Perhaps they had heard Father finish his prayers
and knew it was time for a pause, or else they had seen
an angel before them. At any rate, I had a chance to dis-
mount from my perilous perch. Then the bovine racers
started on again.
Now, I am aware that prayers should not be rattled
off in a hurried manner, and probably few prayers have
been accompanied with as much rattle as was mine dur-
ing that wild ride. The result, however, was very satisfac-
tory. The runaway team was presently intercepted by a
neighbor who had heard the commotion of iron wheels
bumping over stones, and my only misfortune was the
need of a cushion for my fundament when I sat down.
BEE LINING
TIMES bees, bears, and Bibles all
had a place in our activities in a single day. Father had
brought honeybees from Vermont, and had kept increas-
ing the number of his hives until he had from fifteen to
twenty in our orchard. He was skillful in hiving them
when they swarmed, but sometimes a swarm would es-
cape into the woods. Eventually, as new colonies were
produced by those which had found homes in hollow
trees, there were bee-trees to be found all about us, some
near and others very distant.
Father became expert in lining and finding bee-trees.
On his trips to inspect his bear traps he carried his bee-
box with him, and was on the alert for honeybees gather-
ing their golden store from the wild flowers. After he had
captured a bee in one section of his box, Father could
draw a slide which would admit the apis to a glass-covered
space in which some honey was stored. The bee, en-
tranced by his rich find, would forget his fright and load
160
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 161
up with all he could carry. The little box would be taken
to some open space, and the glass cover slowly withdrawn
so that the worker could fly home to his queen. To find
direction, the bee had to circle around a few times before
heading for its secret tree. With keen eyesight, Father
would watch the take-off, and then try to follow the gen-
eral course of the bee.
To judge the distance of a tree, one good way was to
put honey where the bees could return for more. If the
released bee was prompt in returning for another cargo, it
was proof that he did not have to fly very far. Another
method was to watch the route the bee took, then capture
him again and. carry him some distance to the right or to
the left of the main line, releasing him from the new
position. This procedure often provided a crossline which
indicated the general location of the tree. Of course, if the
bee-tree happened to be far away, or if bees from other
trees were in the vicinity, the bee-hunter sometimes had a
difficult task in locating his prize.
There was one swarm of Italian bees which eluded
Father and other bee-hunters for several years. The fact
that these bees seemed to be very numerous and remark-
ably industrious indicated that the swarm was a large one,
and one with a rich store of honey for the lucky man who
could find it. Consequently, there was keen competition
in the search. Bees were caught and released from many
different angles, and sharp human eyes peered into hun-
dreds of trees, but no one was able to get a crossline on
those bees, or to see them going in and out of any hole
or crack in a tree. It was evident, moreover, that they had
come from a long distance for their free honey.
162 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
The bears, however, had better luck. They either
smelled honey, or heard the buzzing of bees in a large,
dead basswood tree far away from the paths of men. They
had found that by standing on their hind legs and reach-
ing a paw through an aperture in the hollow tree they
could claw out bits of the delectable sweets. The stings
they received as penalty for the thievery did not deter
them from beating a path to that particular tree.
Father was more fortunate than the other bee-hunters
for, in his search for ginseng, he came across the bear trail
which led to the honey tree. In fact, judging from the
fresh large and small tracks around the old tree, it was
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 163
apparent that a mother bear had recently been pawing
out a tasty treat for her cubs.
After Father had cut down that large shell of a tree,
he found so much honey inside that he and my two broth-
ers had to make several trips to bring it all back home.
I was old enough to go with them on the last day, and I
remember how tired I got, going and coming, and how
the angry bees chased and stung me. Yet it was like a
holiday to leave the haying and hoeing for the excursion
into the forest And we were well-paid for our efforts, for
we got over three hundred pounds of strained honey from
that tree. Father spoke of the Land of Canaan which
once flowed with milk and honey; and, because of the
part that bears had played in making a trail to the tree, he
reminded us of Samson's riddle: "Out of the eater came
forth meat, and out of the strong came forth sweetness.' 7
THE MOVE TO CHESTERTOWN
/e
REALIZING that the educational op-
portunities were very limited in our town, Father fre-
quently spoke of selling our farm and moving to some
locality which had better schools. However, habit and the
lure of our environment kept us where we were; and the
routine of farming, fishing, trapping, and making maple
sugar went on year after year. At one time we heard of a
man who might pay as much as eight hundred dollars for
our property, but this prospect faded away. Instead of
seeing gold in our hills, he evidently saw only stones and
hard work.
When my older sisters had gone as far as they could
in our country school, they secured jobs as waitresses in
hotels on Brant Lake and Schroon Lake during the sum-
mer months. Later they got more permanent positions as
maids and housekeepers. Alice, the oldest girl, taught
school for a few years, and then married at the age of
164
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 165
twenty-six. Anna, who was two years younger, married a
skillful young tanner. In order to get Father's consent to
the marriage, Anna's fiance, Anthony Schneider, had to
promise not to drink intoxicating liquors or use tobacco.
Later on this son-in-law and Father became great hunting
and fishing pals. As my two brothers grew up, they also
became more proficient at fishing and hunting; and I kept
at their heels.
Following a natural urge to become a trapper I set a
few traps, and succeeded in catching a small number o
muskrats, mink, a raccoon, a fox, and a skunk. I did not
like the task of killing animals in traps, and felt a special
pity for the poor skunk, which I finally had to drown in
order to keep myself from being unpleasantly perfumed.
The ability to handle a gun never became a fine art
with me. Our old muzzle-loading shotgun kicked so mul-
ishly that it made me somewhat fearful of all guns. Using
Father's famous pistol, I once shot at a deer which was
standing a short distance from me, but my aim was evi-
dently extremely poor and I missed. The only game that I
succeeded in killing with a gun was one muskrat, and a
partridge which obligingly refused to fly out of my path.
A little later on, when I was firing at a red squirrel, the
gun backfired on me, blackening my face with powder
and making my ears ring for days. This experience caused
me to lose all enthusiasm for wandering through the
woods with a gun in my hands.
With the coming of spring, it was always difficult for
me to sit studiously and contentedly in a schoolroom. The
thought of the sweet maple-sugar season and the wind-
ing trout streams pulled me as persistently as the moon
166 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
pulls the ocean water. However, as I grew older it was
necessary to find employment beyond the pleasures of
fishing, and so the summer I was sixteen I took a job as
handyman at the Palisade Hotel. Such tasks as filling the
woodbox, washing dishes, sweeping floors, and running
errands were assigned to me. Not wanting to continue
along these lines for the rest of my life, I began to think
at this time of what my vocation should be, and decided
that if I studied bookkeeping I might be able to get a job
in some village store. In the fall I returned to our little
district school once more, and began to work out lessons
in assets, liabilities, profit and loss. My program of train-
ing, however, was destined to come to a sad end.
On a dark day in late October of 1898 someone came
to the school to tell my younger sister Eliza and me that
our mother had suddenly become critically ill, and that
we should come home at once. Since Mother had pre-
pared our breakfast and put up our lunch a few hours
before, we were entirely unprepared for the distressing
message about her; and to find her helpless and in great
pain from a severe stroke was heartrending to us.
Until this tune a physician had been called to our
house only once, when Antha was so desperately sick. For
all of our various illnesses, we had used oils, roots, barks
and herbs, but now these were no help. We called a doc-
tor from Chestertown, but in those horse-and-buggy days
it took a long time for him to drive the twelve miles to
our place. When he finally arrived, we watched silently
and hopefully as he stirred his mysterious drops of liquid
in a glass of water. A few days later another doctor from
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 167
fifty miles away came to make a diagnosis and prescribe
treatment. But our beloved mother was seriously stricken,
and day after day seemed to lie on the very brink of
eternity. In fact, one Sunday morning Father woke us to
say that she was dying. This information was so disturb-
ing to me that I rushed out of the house and down the
road.
The road past our house was a lonesome one on a
Sunday. At the gloomiest place, where a dismal swamp
was on one side and a protruding ledge on the other, I
paced anxiously back and forth and prayed. I recalled a
wonderful moment in my life when I had called Mother
the most beautiful woman in the world; and I remem-
bered an occasion when my oldest brother had spoken
sharply to Mother, causing her to weep. Her tears had
touched his heart more than any form of punishment
After quite a time my depression was completely
removed, as though unseen hands had taken it from me.
When I got back to the house, good news awaited me.
Mother was very much better.
When she had recovered sufficiently from her stroke
to be moved, my three older, unmarried sisters persuaded
Father that a house with modern conveniences, and near
a doctor, should be found. We decided on Chestertown,
which was only twelve miles away, and which had a good
school that Eliza and I could attend. Ruel chose to remain
at the farm and to trap with Father, at least until the farm
might be sold for a fair price.
Mother had a sister living in Chestertown, and since
our married sister Alice lived only five miles to the east
i68 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
and not far from Brant Lake, we would all be quite near
to each other. Therefore, a kind of second home was
made.
Cordie soon secured a good position as cook at the
Chester House, while Antha became housekeeper for a
merchant and his invalid wife. Clara became our home-
maker. Eliza and I helped about the house as much as we
could, and one of my jobs was to milk and care for the
cow which Father had given us.
The school at Chestertown was not functioning at
that time as a high school, though it did offer some of
the more advanced subjects, such as civics, physical
geography, and rhetoric. Starting in at the second half
of the school year, I began to pursue those subjects. I
was a slow student, but had a fairly good memory. I
concentrated on the Constitution of the United States
until I could recite it word for word.
I remember that there was quite an attractive girl in
my classes, and one day I must have been admiring her
quite openly as she returned to her seat after a recitation.
She saw me and rewarded me with a wink that set my
heart fluttering. Later on in the year I invited her to be
my partner at a skating party; and I held her hands-
through mittens of course as we circled about on the
pond. Though I was then seventeen, I was too bashful
and country-green to even think of a goodnight kiss.
170 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
qualify as a third-grade district schoolteacher, and a
notice was mailed to me during the summer stating that
I was "entitled/* The next step was to find a school which
had not yet hired a teacher for the fall term. I heard of
two such schools, one in Grassville, and the other in
Hayesburgh. As might be guessed from the names, these
towns were in the hayseed belt. I had some misgivings
about my acceptability to any trustee who had authority
to engage a teacher, for I looked very boyish and would
not reach the required age of eighteen until the twenty-
fifth of November. I had begun to shave, however, so I
neglected my sparse growth of hairs for a number of days,
thinking that the slightest sign of a beard might make me
look more impressive. Luck was with me, and I was hired
for the Hayesburgh district at seven dollars per week,
with no board provided.
I was quite elated at the thought of becoming a
schoolmaster, although my spirits were somewhat damp-
ened when I heard that the former teacher had found the
school so unruly that she had had to resign before finish-
ing her term. It seemed that there were big boys in the
district who were hard to handle.
The school was six long miles from the village, so I
bought a bicycle for the trips back and forth. This exer-
cise cleared my brain after a day of teaching all of the
fundamentals in Reading, Writing, Arithmetic, Spelling,
History, English Grammar, Geography, and Physiology,
but the pedaling was not so pleasant on rainy days or
when a flat tire made it necessary for me to walk a good
part of those six miles. The one reward along the way was
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 171
a magnificent view of the higher Adirondack Mountains
to the north.
When I had organized my pupils into classes I found
them easy to manage, and could not understand why my
predecessor had considered the Hayesburgh District diffi-
cult. I heard, however, that certain older boys and young
men of the neighborhood were apt to visit the school and
disrupt all order and discipline. They especially enjoyed
teasing the girls and diverting their attention from stud-
ies. The ringleader of the gang was a strapping fellow
who owned two pairs of boxing gloves and considered
himself champion of the community.
Soon after the school term had started the gang put
in an appearance, and, as might be expected, I was in-
vited outside by the ringleader. As it was close to the
noon hour, we went out into the yard to settle matters. I
thought that first I would test his strength, and suggested
that we try some athletic stunts which I knew. Standing
face to face, we both gripped a broom handle and
brought it down between us to see in whose hands it
would turn. My hands held. We then sat on the ground
with the soles of our shoes together, grasped the broom-
stick and each endeavored to pull the other up. My
opponent had to come up each time. We wrestled Indian
fashion, lying on our backs, with our heads in opposite
directions and our right arms locked. We raised our right
legs, hooked them together and endeavored to flip each
other over backwards. I won this bout also.
After the preliminaries, we donned the gloves for the
big feature. Although I had never had on a pair of real
172 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
boxing gloves, Ruel and I, using the sheepskin mittens
Father made us, had frequently fought in the barn for the
"championship of the world." My heavier brother was
John L. Sullivan, while I was Jim Corbett. I knew nothing
of their sparring tactics, but had heard of Corbett's clever
footwork; and my own feet, as a result of mountain climb-
ing and crossing streams by jumping from stone to stone,
had become quite dependable.
My new challenger, who was heavier than I was and
sturdily built, was clearly eager to prove his superiority
and to humiliate me before my pupils. Aware that my
peace and security as a schoolmaster were at stake, I
determined to do my best and to do it as quickly as pos-
sible. Yet apart from a source of strength which I may
have inherited from Ethan Allen of the Green Mountain
Boys, I can hardly account for what took place. We had
been sparring only a short time when a shout rose from
the ring of pupils around us: "The teacher has knocked
him down!"
To this day I am not sure whether my blow did the
trick or whether my opponent meerly slipped and fell,
since no blood was shed. In any case the fight was ended
and the gloves were never brought to the school again.
My status as teacher and disciplinarian was established
once and for all.
A few weeks later a much more serious situation
arose. Some of the children came running to the school
to say that an enraged man had chased them and threat-
ened them with a pitchfork. Upon inquiring, I learned
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 173
that the man was a hermit named Tom Cardie who lived
in a crude shack down in the valley. Ordinarily he was
peaceful enough, but recently he had lost some hens, and
had surmised that the cattle belonging to the parents of
my pupils were responsible. Hence when he saw the chil-
dren taking a short cut to school along the edge of his
swamp, he went after them.
Further inquiry about Tom Cardie revealed a strange
story. Earlier in his life Tom had worked at a lumber
camp. At that time he was a big, blustery young fellow,
fond of teasing and practical jokes. One afternoon, after
the day's work had been finished, the men found that
they were out of tobacco. It was a long way out to a store.
Someone bet a pound of tobacco that no one had the
courage to go out of the woods so kte in the afternoon
and return after dark. Tom Cardie bragged that he was
not afraid of any man or of the devil, and he volunteered
to go after the tobacco.
On his way back through the lonely woods he heard
the howl of a wolf. This was answered by a second howl
coming from the opposite side of the trail. Then more
howls indicated that a whole pack of wolves was closing
in on him. Hard-hearted, courageous Tom began to run
for his life. The shanty was only a mile or so ahead, and
he hoped that he could make it before the wolves could
reach him; but he had already caught a glimpse of a large
gray form at his right, and, he could hear a chorus of
howls just behind. A bad fall on the rough trail brought
him to the brink of despair, and lie expected at any mo-
ment that the hungry beasts would pounce upon him.
Bears, Bibles and a Boy
However, for some reason the wolves seemed to be play-
ing with him, as a cat plays with a mouse, for no attack
came.
The package of tobacco had slipped from Tom's
grasp when he stumbled to the earth, but he made no
effort to feel around in the darkness for it. Regaining his
feet, Cardie raced for the safety of the camp. Now it ap-
peared that he might be saved, for he could see a faint
light and the dark shape of a building. In a moment he
was at the door. He threw his weight against it so vio-
lently that the wooden latch broke in fragments, causing
him to crash headlong onto the floor. "Wolves! Wolves!"
he cried.
The shanty was empty, but Tom heard voices out-
side and presently the lumberjacks themselves appeared,
laughing hilariously. Gradually it became clear to Tom
Cardie that the pursuing wolves were only a hoax. Think-
ing to give Tom a bit of his own medicine, his friends had
enjoyed an evening of fun, but it proved to be costly to
their victim. From then on, the wild stare in Tom's eyes
indicated that something had gone wrong in his head.
Some twist that could not be repaired.
When I heard the story of Tom Cardie, who was
now a lonely old man, living in a swamp and harboring
a grudge against my pupils, I realized that I should take
steps to prevent further incidents. It seemed to me that
some animal, such as a skunk or a raccoon, had carried
away the man's hens, and I decided to utilize my knowl-
edge of trapping to solve the problem. The next day,
having brought from home a steel trap, I ventured down
to see the recluse.
Bears, Bibles and a Boy
When I explained to Tom that I had come to help
him, he appeared cooperative and took me to the place
where his hens had their roost. He pointed out feathers
on the ground and the tracks of cattle. The latter seemed
to him to prove that cows had been responsible for the
missing members of his flock. I suggested that some pred-
atory animal might have taken his hens, and said that I
would look around for proof. A pile of stumps near a little
brook held the evidence for which I was looking. There
was a hole under the decaying stumps, and in it lay the
partly-eaten body of a chicken. Fastening the remaining
portion of the chicken into some roots in the upper part
of the cavity, I set the trap underneath and scattered
dead grass and leaves over the shiny steel jaws and
spring. Then I asked Cardie to look at the trap in the
morning, and to kill whatever animal might be in it. He
replied that he would use his ax to chop in pieces any-
thing that might be caught I tried to persuade him to be
content with merely beating the animal on the head until
it became lifeless.
The following day, as I approached the schoolhouse,
I saw some boys out in the road holding up a large, dark
mink. Early that morning the neighborhood had been
awakened by the loud shouts of old Tom Cardie. When
the boys went down to his house to learn the cause of the
disturbance they had found the animal and the trap in
the yard, and the house quiet Tom, having discovered
the animal, must have vented his wrath and gone back to
bed to sleep in peace.
Since I had caught the mink on his property, we sold
the pelt and bought some supplies for Tom. He seemed
176 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
to understand that our intentions were good, for lie never
chased or threatened any of the pupils after that day.
For the remainder of the school year, things went
smoothly and I was known as a schoolmaster who could
not only defend himself, but also the pupils under his
care.
BELL HOP AT CHESTER HOUSE
I FTER teaching school for a year, I was
determined to give myself a better education. Often I
had looked off from mountain summits and felt a yearn-
ing to visit places which were beyond our narrow valley;
and now the way began to open for me. My sister Antha,
whose life may have been saved by the dose of iodine
given by mistake, had become housekeeper for an invalid
lady in Glens Falls. She generously offered to pay the
tuition for me at the Glens Falls Academy. Although no
one else had ever gone from our community to a higher
institution of learning, I was eager to take the bold step,
and in order to earn further money took a job as bellboy
at the Chester House during the summer months.
My wages at Chester House amounted to only two
dollars and fifty cents a week, plus my food and such tips
as I might receive. The work afforded an opportunity to
meet many different types of people, but some of the
177
178 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
tasks were most monotonous. For instance, when guests
were resting in the afternoon, I was sent to a tiny room
behind the kitchen where I peeled potatoes. Such em-
ployment tends to make a person more stupid than our
Maker intended anyone to be, but if we will find and
use them there are always ways to counteract the mo-
notony of a dull job. While peeling potatoes I studied the
catechism of the Presbyterian Church, and won a Bible
for correctly answering all the questions at one sitting.
Another of my tasks at the Chester House was to fill
bottles from barrels of whiskey stored in the basement.
The process was simple. One end of a long rubber tube
was inserted into the bung hole of the barrel, and I held
the other end between my teeth. By sucking on the tube,
the liquor soon came to my lips. Then, holding the tube
with thumb and fingers, I inserted the end into one of the
glass containers and let the liquor flow into the bottle. By
pinching the tube and again releasing the flow into other
bottles, I soon had as many quarts or pints as were
ordered.
As for myself, I did not care for the taste of beer and
stronger drinks, so stuck to grape juice, sometimes con-
cocting my own highballs by mixing grape juice with
gingerale, lemon and honey. We had been taught at home
not to drink intoxicating liquors, and I also remembered
the words of Abraham Lincoln when a friend advised
him to take whiskey to prevent seasickness on a voyage
which he anticipated. "No," said Lincoln, "I have seen too
many people seasick on land from taking that remedy/'
On occasion I would accompany one of the hotel
guests on a day's fishing trip. Once a gentleman named
"Bears, Bibles and a Boy 179
Mueller asked the proprietor of the hotel where he could
go to catch trout, and was told that if anyone could find
trout that late in the season, I was the person. It was no
hardship for me to be given the day off to go fishing.
With a horse and buggy we drove twelve miles to the
head of Brant Lake, then two miles more up the rutty,
stony road toward Pharaoh Lake. Hitching the mare to a
tree, we walked a half-mile through a jungle of alders to
a large, deep pool where, from boyhood experience, I
knew that the trout lived when the brook got warm and
shallow in August.
It was easy to stand in one spot on the bank and
catch those hungry fish, enough of them so that when we
put them in a dishpan back at the hotel everyone was
astonished at our catch. Ordinarily, for my duties of
brushing off dust, carrying bags, and taking drinks to
rooms, I would receive ten or twenty-five cents as a tip
and perhaps fifty cents when a guest checked out of his
room. In appreciation of my guidance in fishing matters,
however, this Mr. Mueller gave me five dollars when he
left Chester House, a tidy sum for a bellhop who was
saving for a higher education.
While working at this summer resort, I also had the
opportunity to learn something about the teachings of
Christian Science. The proprietor's wife at Chester House
was the Reader for a group of people in Chestertown,
and chose me to pass the plate for the offering. Thus I
heard of a new way to solve the problem of evil, which
had always baffled me. In brief the theory is that God
is good, and that out of His infinite wisdom and goodness
He has created all things perfect, and therefore the idea
iSo Bears, Bibles and a Boy
of evil cannot have a place in the world. Sin, evil, and the
devil are nothing but illusions, or Adam-dreams of mortal
mind.
Having acquired some interest in logic, I wanted to
know how these illusions and Adam-dreams had ever
found a place in the perfect world. I had had some bad
dreams and nightmares in my boyhood days, which had
seemed very real to me and were most distressing. Why
did these happen to me, if there was no evil spirit causing
them? If illusions cause all the disagreeable events which
we know as wars, murders and other cruelties, we have
the same problem in eradicating illusions that we do in
fighting these things under the name of realities. No one
could tell me how these illusions can exist in a creation
in which the All-good and the infinite and perfect mind
is everything.
Although the problem of evil was not solved for me
by the logic of Christian Science, I could see the great
value of trying to fill our minds and hearts so full of God's
love that we can "overcome evil with good/' as St. Paul
taught. And it is good to know that there are people who
have achieved so much happiness and health by thinking
and speaking only kind thoughts.
A less sublime incident occurred one day when I
was sweeping the hotel veranda. Suddenly I heard excited
voices, and as I paused in my sweeping I saw a crowd of
children following a strange-looking man. Long, dark
whiskers sloped forward from his chin, and a worn fire-
man's hat was pulled low on his forehead. His coat was a
potato sack, with slits for his head and arms. His trousers
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 181
had been patched with so many dirty, frayed rags that
they looked like a badly worn carpet In place of shoes,
the hermit had tied various colored pieces of cloth around
his feet to form huge, unshapely moccasins. Over his
shoulder he carried a parcel, tied to a stick. As we learned
later, this was old Holden Brace, coining to the store to
buy supplies.
Such an unusual sight naturally was the cause of
much curiosity. A group of guests from the hotel gathered
by the side of the road, and some of the more forward
men engaged the strangely attired man in conversation.
They asked permission to take his picture, and clicked
their cameras while old Mr. Brace explained that he hap-
pened to be wearing his old clothes. One man offered him
a drink from the bar, but this the hermit refused as dan-
gerous and sinful. And at this point he proceeded to ex-
hort us on how to live in peace and happiness. He said
that the devil is constantly trying to get the best of
people, and that the majority of folks become careless
and let the arch enemy get them down. He asserted that
if he were to put on boots, devils and witches would tor-
ment him. His main point was that if we want to keep out
of Satan's power, we must be honest honest with God,
and honest with one another.
When one of the listeners ventured to say, "You seem
to know a lot about the devil, Mr. Brace. You must meet
him often," he replied, "Yes, I met the devil once when I
lived on Hague Mountain. It was just at the close of day,
when I was crossing a narrow bridge, and the devil was
attempting to cross from the opposite direction at the
same time/*
Bears, Bibles and a Boy
"How did you know it was the devil?"
"Because," answered the ragged preacher, "one of
his feet was twice as big as the other, and he hissed like
a cat. When I stepped to one side to let the fellow pass,
he jumped on my back. I pulled him off but he sprang at
me again. Then I became impatient and threw him onto
the bridge so hard that he bounced right up into the air
and disappeared. Yes/' he concluded, "we must get the
best of the devil, or he will get the best of us."
It may have been that Holden Brace's appearance
alone was enough to scare the devil, but in any event he
had found his own way of illustrating the words of the
apostle James: "Resist the devil and he will flee from
you."
OLD MUTTON GLUTTON
URING this same summer we made
the acquaintance of Mr. Mutton Glutton, a large bear
who was attempting to add to his enormous weight by
feasting on sheep. Father had been aware of the presence
of this veteran marauder among the mountains, and had
carefully set his traps, but seldom in his experience had
he known of a bear who was so trap-shy. All through the
spring and early summer, as long as bear pelts remained
prime and shiny, strong traps had been set in vain in
various locations just over the Essex County line, where
a bounty was paid on every dead bear. It was Father's
practice, in order to receive the fullest remuneration for
his efforts, to set his traps at a time when skins were at
their best, and also in a county that paid a bounty, Dur-
1*3
184 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
ing the early days of July he would take up his traps and
wait for the next trapping season. So generally the bears
had a summer holiday.
The particular bear whom I have called Mutton
Glutton was quick to make the most of his holiday. He
waxed very bold, and made increasingly frequent visits
to pastures near our Brant Lake farm until it became clear
that, unless he was apprehended, he would completely
destroy at least two flocks of sheep. At first he had been
content to select tender lamb for his supper once or twice
a month and then go back to his Indian turnips, ants,
grubs, and wild berries, but he gradually developed a
ravenous appetite for mutton. Aware that men were
watching for him, he outwitted them by alternating be-
tween two pastures, and by making occasional raids on
more remote flocks of sheep.
Albert Griffin and Arthur Smith were the men whose
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 185
flocks suffered the greatest depletion. Their combined
losses totalled eighteen sheep. Arthur carried on a good
business in the summer peddling veal, lamb, and blue-
berries, and because of Mutton Glutton he decided to
add bear meat to his list. Seeking both revenge and re-
muneration, he began to do some trapping on his own
account. However, he was not a skillful trapper, and it
was a very wise old bear he was trying to capture, so his
chances were slim. When Smith inspected his trap, he
would find it sprung and thrown into a brush pile; and
when, with rifle in hand, he waited at night for the thief
to show up, the darkness always prevented accurate
shooting. Finally, in desperation, he came to my father
and Ruel for help, and offered them permission to trap
on his land.
Since it was now early August, Father felt he could
not be interested in the pursuit of elusive Mr. Mutton
Glutton. Not only would it be a waste of time, he thought,
to try to trick the bear into a trap, but it would also spoil
his chances of catching Mutton Glutton the next spring
over the line in Essex County. Furthermore, Father never
put out bear traps near pastures and houses where cattle,
dogs, or people might be caught. In fact, it used to be
said jokingly that, before catching bears, Ed Roberts
drove them from Warren County over into Essex where a
bounty was offered. In any case, Father refused Arthur
Smith's offer.
However, brother Ruel, who had attended many
bear traps with Father and who was becoming quite a
successful trapper himself, decided that he should re-
spond to the farmer's appeal for help. He conceived a
i86 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
plan by which he believed that he could outwit the wily
bear. Taking the remains of the last sheep which had
been killed, he fastened them among the lower limbs of
a yellow birch tree, and set his trap directly beneath.
Imitating Father's methods, he had first carefully re-
moved enough sod and earth to let the trap set level.
Some wisps of swamp hay were lying on the ground and
he carefully lifted one of them with a pitchfork and put
it down over the trap and coiled log-chain which was
fastened to the tree. It seemed to him that the odor of
musty hay might prevent the bear from smelling the trap.
Then, too, he hoped that the bear's interest in the uneaten
portion of the sheep would persuade him to take the last
few steps on his hind legs, and so divert his keen nose
from the trap. A half -grown lamb was also tied to a stake
nearby, so that the bleating would throw the thief off
guard. Soon after sundown, six men with loaded rifles hid
in Arthur Smith's barn and waited for the approach of
their hoped-for culprit
Mutton Glutton always seemed to plan his visits at
a time of night when men could not easily see the sights
on their guns, and his behavior on that night was no
exception. Dusk deepened into darkness, and the watch-
ers began to fear that there would be no entertainment
for their party. Suddenly one of the men moved and
pointed toward a deeper blotch of darkness which was
slowly moving toward the trap. By this time the fright-
ened lamb was pulling at its rope and bleating. The black
form paused for a moment, then stood up like a man and
headed for the birch tree. There was a thud as the jaws
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 187
of the trap closed together, and then the night air was
filled with frightful howls.
Even in the daytime, a trapper runs the risk of being
mauled when he comes upon a bear that has just been
caught in a trap, but it is even more dangerous to ap-
proach such an animal after dark. Realizing that the bear
might make a rush at them, the men emerged cautiously
from the barn. However, as they neared the birch tree,
they saw no sign of the bear. The thirty-foot chain had
made it possible for him to plunge into the thick foliage
of the swamp. Approaching the dense bushes, some of the
men began to fire their guns at random, hoping that a few
of their bullets might hit their mark. In their approach,
they had forgotten that the great length of the chain
would give the bear enough fredom to make a long
charge. Suddenly he did this very thing, causing the men
to bump against each other in the darkness as they hastily
retreated. One man jumped into a watering trough; and
another, younger man, unnerved by the bear's fearful
snort, ran into the barn and climbed up into the haymow.
Meantime, my brother turned at just the right moment,
placed the muzzle of his rifle on the big dark head, and
fired.
Because of all the sheep on which Mr. Mutton Glut-
ton had feasted, he weighed nearly five hundred pounds.
His pelt was shiny, but so far from prime that it sold for
only five dollars. An inspection of his feet revealed the
reason for his hatred of traps, for three toes were missing
from a front paw. Perhaps it was the maimed paw which
had led the greedy eater to turn to the farmers for re-
i88 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
venge and an easy living. Anyway, there is much retali-
ation in the world, and Arthur Smith realized a consider-
able amount of money by selling bear meat to his
customers. Most important of all, the remaining sheep
could graze in safety on their mountain pastures.
GLENS FALLS ACADEMY
N SEPTEMBER of 1900 I tied my few
belongings to my bicycle and headed for Glens Falls
Academy, some twenty-seven miles away. Aware that the
small amount of money that I had been able to save
would not last for many weeks, I was determined to
finance my education by finding odd jobs after school.
For one who had never been more than twelve miles from
home, the arrival at Glens Falls seemed to leave the old
farm a long way behind.
Nevertheless a kind Providence was with me, and I
was fortunate in still having members of my family
around me. There was Antha, and presently Cordie came
to join us. She had gained valuable experience as a cook
in Chestertown, and now started a home bakery in Glens
Falls. Then, unexpectedly, a few weeks after school had
started, my other sisters and brothers moved with Mother
289
igo Bears, Bibles and a Boy
from Chestertown to Glens Falls, and again we could
make a home together.
There is not much to report about that first year at
the Academy, though I must have absorbed some of the
knowledge to which I was exposed. I do recall that in the
study of physiology I learned that "sneezing" is the
spasmodic contraction of the diaphragm caused by the
irritation of the olfactory nerve. Until that time I had
been able to do the trick as well as anybody, but it was
enlightening to know the why and how of it. One other
fragment of information which remains with me is that
the average person needs from seven to seven and one-
half hours of sleep at night; some require eight hours,
children ought to have nine, and fools ten. So, except for
rare occasions, I have aimed to limit the length of my
slumber.
Education did not come easily to me. I found Latin
and Algebra quite difficult, although I learned to tackle
the more difficult mathematical problems by myself and
eventually became a star pupil in the latter branch of
learning. Greek, which I studied during my second year,
helped to round out a heavy schedule. When our class
came to the period of Ancient History which dealt with
the Hebrews, the teacher was quite amazed at my ready
and accurate information. Other students who had had
the advantage of Sunday School and regular church at-
tendance did not begin to have the knowledge of the
Bible that I had gained from our home reading. I cer-
tainly never made the mistake of the youth who, on re-
turning home from church, informed his parents that the
minister's text was "Hold a grater to Solomon's ear," a
Bears, Bibles and a Boy
very mutilated form of "Behold, a greater than Solomon
is here," or of the student who defined "Republican" as
a "notorious sinner mentioned in the New Testament"
My knowledge of the Bible also stood me in good
stead during my sophomore year, when I participated in
a school debate. The question for debate was: "Resolved,
that the blessings of peace are greater than the blessings
of war." The Master of the Academy, who was debating
on the affirmative side, maintained that heaven is the
place of perfect peace. In rebuttal I picked up the school
Bible, turned to the Book of Revelation, and read the
passage: "And there was war in heaven: Michael and his
angels fought against the dragon; and the dragon fought
and his angels, and prevailed not; neither was their place
found any more in heaven. And the great dragon was
cast out, that old serpent, called the Devil, and Satan,
which deceiveth the whole world." I made the point that,
according to the Bible, war was necessary to establish the
heavenly peace. Later at a banquet at which I was asked
to speak, the master of the school mentioned the debate
and the way in which he had gone into heaven itself to
fortify his arguments, and how I had followed him into
the sacred stronghold and had thrown him out.
Bears, Bibles and a Boy
In addition to the opportunity for getting a better
education at the Academy, there were other advantages
which, had not been available to me up among the moun-
tains. I joined a company of boys who were taught mili-
tary drills, became a member of the local Y.M.C.A., and
played right guard on the school football team. As for my
social life, some of the girls looked amazingly alluring,
but my bashfulness kept me from mingling with them.
I did get up courage to walk home with one charming
blonde just once in four years.
FIRST STEPS TOWARD
THE MINISTRY
T WAS toward the end of my sophomore
year at the Glens Falls Academy that I took my first long
step toward the ministry. Also at this time the idea of
going to college began to stir in my mind. Over the years
I had read the Christian Herald sermons to Mother, and
I had frequently felt the urge to become a preacher. So I
bought a few books on theology, and after studying them
passed an examination which entitled me to serve as an
"exhorter." One of the questions that I had to answer was,
"How do you account for the good people who do not
happen to be church members?" I remembered reading
the words of Henry Ward Beecher and replied that some
of the gospel seed has got out of the church windows and
brought forth splendid fruit The broad-minded, scholarly
clergyman before whom I appeared was so pleased with
this answer that he gave me a high mark.
I gave a talk at a small church at Sanford Ridge in
193
194 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
Glens Falls, and by passing another examination advanced
to die status of a Local Preacher. This qualified me to be
appointed as pastor of some church which did not have
the services of a fully ordained Methodist minister. Such
an opening became available at Bolton Landing, a village
of a few hundred inhabitants on beautiful Lake George.
The church at Bolton Landing was in its infancy, the
edifice itself being incomplete and the work at a standstill.
The few members were discouraged, and the elderly
clergyman who had been preaching to them had given up
in despair. There was no parsonage, and no regular salary.
Moreover, the church was part of a circuit, there being
two other church buildings several miles apart. In addi-
tion to the two services morning and evening at the
central building in Bolton Landing, the pastor was ex-
pected to preach on alternate Sunday afternoons at one
of the other churches. Of course, calling on the sick, and
visiting among the parishioners was standard practice for
any minister. And since there was no janitor, I was to
perform the chores of sweeping and dusting the building,
kindling the fire in cold weather, and cleaning and lighting
the kerosene lamps.
During the week I attended the Academy, with a full
schedule of subjects in the College Preparatory course
English, history, third-year Latin, and second-year Greek.
On weekends the trip from Glens Falls to Bolton Landing
took at least an hour and a half each way, depending upon
the weather. Traveling first by trolley, the nine-mile trip
to Lake George Village a town formerly called Caldwell
was only about thirty minutes. As I passed Bloody
Pond, so named because of the dead and wounded who
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 195
fell there during the French and Indian War, and con-
tinued past Fort William Henry, I could imagine the bitter
historical events which had occurred there little more than
a century before.
From Lake George Village to Bolton Landing there
was no fine, paved road as there is today, but the trip
along one of America's most beautiful lakes never became
monotonous. Whether in the heat of summer, or when the
thermometer registered thirty below zero early Monday
mornings, nature's unfolding combination of islands,
mountains, and trees moved me to praise and adoration.
This part of the trip wound back and forth along an
old dirt road, and was made by stage. The stage driver,
James L. Maranville of Bolton, who carried mail and pas-
sengers back and forth, matched the scenery in interest
and entertainment. Always cheerful, with ruddy face and
such robust stamina that he did not need to wear gloves
even on the coldest days, he seemed born for his work.
Often I would be the only passenger, coming in on
Friday evening and returning to school early Monday
morning, and I would ride beside Mr. Maranville bundled
up in warm robes. On one such day, he asked for my opin-
ion on the Bible passage: "As a man thinketh in his heart,
so is he." After some brief general comments, I turned the
text back to him, asking for his own point of view.
He replied: "Well, I believe it means that when a
man thinks wrong, he is wrong: and when he thinks right,
he is right. This is something a person can feel in his own
heart."
It seemed to me that this small-town philosopher had
gone to the heart of the matter.
ig6 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
From the very beginning, the friendly observations
and companionship of this good man helped to steady me,
for I approached my first ministerial post with fear and
trembling, and with mixed thoughts at the prospect of
facing an unknown group. While it was with great joy
that my parents learned of my becoming a preacher, my
own misgivings must have been apparent when I stood
in the pulpit at the age of eighteen to expound the scrip-
tures to my first congregation of three people.
I was encouraged, however, as gradually more and
more came to hear the <e boy preacher" until there was
a time when latecomers had to stand. Since I Was not tak-
ing any theological courses at the Academy to aid me
in the preparation of sermons, I used the Bible stories for
my themes. Illustrations from great books such as Ivan-
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 197
hoe, A Tale of Two Cities, and Silas Marner were used
to strengthen my messages, which were always delivered
without notes.
On Friday evenings I opened the church, did the
sweeping and dusting, started the furnace if the weather
was cold, saw that the hymn books were in each pew,
and lighted the lamps for choir practice. When rehearsal
was over, I put out the lights and locked the door.
For these various services I received no fixed salary,
but all the plate offerings came to me, and they were al-
most entirely in small coins. I was able to appreciate the
story about the Quarter which refused to speak to the
Penny. The humble Penny rebuked the shiny snob, say-
ing: "So you think you are quite important well, I am
found at church much more often than you!"
Nevertheless, I was grateful for all the pennies,
nickels, and dimes which came to me to help pay for my
clothes and books. The pennies gave me a special purpose,
for Mother had a large piggy-bank which I kept well
supplied.
As good as it is to have plenty of money for the neces-
sities and luxuries of life, it is better to have friends. A
small village is an excellent place for forming such rela-
tionships. Some of the good friends made at Bolton Land-
ing are still friends today. Among them is the family
of Bert Lamb, whose children also became members of my
church. These people were not summer visitors, who
opened their cottages only for the vacation months, but
were of the hardy group of natives who lived at Bolton
Landing all year round. Through a home-study course,
198 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
Bert bettered his position until he eventually owned a
store of his own, became supervisor of his town and
sheriff of the county.
As he prospered, Bert Lamb bought a big sawmill on
the bay behind Green Island where he and his sons and
helpers floated the big logs down from Tongue Mountain
and various places around the lake to be cut up into rough
lumber for summer camps. Since the Lambs owned quite
a bit of property, they built cottages along the shore which
rented to the summer people, but during the long winters
when the lake sometimes froze solid to a thickness of two
feet, they sawed the ice and stored it in a big barn for
sale during the summer months.
From the tiny settlement of Bolton Landing, Bert
Lamb sent his three children to college. His older son,
Wallace, now Superintendent of Schools at Hicksville,
Long Island, has written an interesting history of Lake
George, and another of New York State.
Success frequently creates difficulties, and I began to
encounter them. For one thing, there was trouble about
the choir. All seemed to be going well until one of the
women prominent in the church confided to me that a
woman who operated a saloon in the village was one of
our volunteer singers. I was advised to let the offending
person know that her services were no longer desired.
When I appeared reluctant to do such a discourteous
thing, it was further suggested that I should refuse to
shake hands with the obnoxious party.
Recalling the passage in the New Testament in which
Jesus replies to the self-righteous Pharisees by saying,
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 199
"They that are whole need not a physician; but they that
are sick. I came not to call the righteous, but sinners to
repentance/* it was clear to me that I should welcome all
who came to church and invite them to come often. As
questionable as it might look to have a saloon keeper
singing in the choir, I did not think it wise to attempt a
separation of the sheep from the goats, not, at least, until
all had had a chance to hear the gospel.
My unwillingness to follow the equivalent* of official
orders placed me in a particularly difficult situation, for
the offended church leader had been providing me with
free room and board on the weekends. Moreover, there
was the possibility that she would report my conduct to
the higher church officials of the district, have me removed
from my appointment, and thus give me a bad name at
the very outset of my career.
As was my habit, I prayed for guidance in this mat-
ter, and on my return to Glens Falls on Monday morning,
I talked the problem over with Mother. She advised me
to be kind and patient with both the sinners and the
saints, explaining that some well-meaning people are
handicapped with mental and moral twists about which
we know so little that we should be slow to judge them.
It would be better, she said, to combine firmness with
gentleness, and to trust the Lord. Her advice proved to be
absolutely right, for when I went back to my pastorate
at the end of the academy week, I heard some splendid
news.
Of her own accord, the kdy saloon keeper had given
up her business and established a meat market instead. As
200 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
time went on, I am happy to say that the erstwhile objec-
tionable person became the choir leader, President of the
Ladies' Aid, and a pillar of the church.
I continued supplying the little church at Bolton
Landing during my junior and senior years at the Acad-
emy, and the offerings enabled me to keep going finan-
cially. While church affairs were now progressing well,
I was headed for more trouble. It came about in this way.
As has been mentioned, on Friday nights I began my
chores of readying the church for Sunday service. On the
night that my new problem arose, I had turned out the
lights after choir rehearsal, checked the windows and
doors, and was walking away from the building when I
saw the young lady organist standing alone by the side of
the street.
Though shy and inexperienced, there was sufficient
chivalry in me so that I asked her if I could accompany
her up the long, lonesome, unlighted road to her home.
The offer was accepted and this small incident afforded
me the satisfaction which is always one's own reward for
a courteous act
However, as soon as I returned to my room, the
woman with whom I was boarding at the time came to
tell me that she knew exactly where I had been, and that
if I ever repeated such an incident I would not be wel-
come at her house. What a rebuff to a bashful young
man who had, for the second time in his life, mustered
sufficient courage to walk home with a charming girl.
After some deliberation, I sought and found a new
place to stay during the weekends. The change proved
to be a good one, for congregations increased. People who
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 201
had never been known to go to church came out to hear
the way I preached, to join in our gospel singing, and to
cooperate for the growth of the church. There were even
some remarkable changes in the lives of some people
whom I endeavored to help.
An old fisherman who was noted for being a hard-
hearted infidel used to talk with me about fishing. Later
on when he became ill I called at his home to inquire
about his health and to ask if I could do anything for him.
When I suggested that we read a passage from the Bible,
he became very bitter in his denunciation of the scrip-
tures and of the church. While this visit was not particu-
larly successful, on my next call I began to read to him
from Pilgrims Progress. We proceeded from the flight
from the City of Destruction, through the Slough of Des-
pond, and had come to the miracle of the cross, at the
sight of which the heavy burden fell from Christian's
back. Unexpectedly I was interrupted by an exclamation
from my listener. "By jolly," he said, "that's good!" The
next day, my fisherman-friend was eager to kneel in prayer
with me, and I saw tears on his coarse, weather-beaten
face. A few days later he told me that he had seen the
Lord Jesus enter his room and sit on the edge of the bed.
Another elderly man, known for his atheism, gam-
bling, and drunkenness, openly rebuffed me when I first
met him. I had prayed for the power to help such men,
and was disappointed because I had not felt divine energy
guiding me. However, I found that simple acts of friendli-
ness and kindness seemed to be charged with dynamic
influence. I recalled the way in which Jesus asked the
Samaritan woman at Jacob's Well for a drink of water,
2O2 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
and, overcoming all prejudice, custom, and social barriers,
had made her his messenger to her people. I tried a simi-
lar approach on the old gambler, who had never been seen
in church. One day when I was to be late in returning to
Bolton Landing, I asked him to look after the fire so that
the church would be warm. This simple request took hold
of his heart, and soon there was a new worshipper in one
of our pews.
As if attending the Academy during the week, pre-
paring my sermons, doing the janitor work and calling on
the sick were not enough to keep me occupied, I estab-
lished a preaching appointment in a farm house, far back
from the village. On Friday evenings people would come
from all directions to fill the house and to listen to the
messages that I brought them. They even put on an old-
fashioned donation supper to show their appreciation of
my efforts and to fill my pockets with bills and change.
In addition to preaching and the other pastoral
duties, it fell to me to raise money to complete the church
edifice. The building needed lath and plaster, new pews
and altar rail, the completion of the belfry, and various
other improvements. During the summer vacations, there-
fore, I called on the prosperous summer visitors in the
vicinity and solicited donations. Of course, I found some
people who gave quite generously, while others, reputed
to be worth millions, explained that they were barely
surviving. All this was good experience for me, and pre-
pared me for three larger building projects kter on in my
ministry. I can vividly recall going to see one wealthy man
for a donation to our building fund, and finding him quite
under the influence of liquor. He dismissed me abruptly
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 203
but, for some reason that I cannot explain, I returned to
see him the next morning. As he saw me at the end of his
large veranda, he began to apologize and invited me to sit
down. He then proceeded to give me a lecture on the vari-
ous creeds. As he saw it, the main point of difference be-
tween some denominations concerned the horns of the
devil. Many people were sure that the devil had horns,
while others held that he was a mulley. The man did not
give me a chance to talk, but when he had finished his
speech, he asked, "How much do you want?" When he had
written out his check, he told me of a friend who "has
lots more money than me," and suggested that I call on
him.
Of course, I went to see the friend. This man listened
to my appeal, and then said, "It's the same old story, isn't
it?" Perhaps he had been warned about my persistence,
and wanted to test me; in any case he said nothing fur-
ther, but began to read his mail. I sat down near him, and
began making some notes for my next sermon. Even after
the man had gone into another room, I kept at my notes.
Finally he returned and placed a fifty-dollar bfll in my
hand. Thus I found that it paid to wait expectantly.
Another of my activities involved the closing of sa-
loons in our village. I had noticed the frequency of
drunkenness, especially among the older men, and I dis-
covered that there was such a thing as local-option, which
provided that the people could vote on the question of
licensing saloons. I drew up a petition for such a vote, but
was told that it would be hopeless. And hopeless it
seemed, since I was in school when the ballots were cast,
and could not help influence voters. However, the vote
204 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
was against the saloons by a large majority. I learned that
certain men who were supposed to be on the wet side had
worked hard among their friends to clean up the town.
The enemy was divided, and defeated. An influential man
who was rather intemperate himself declared that he was
with me because, as he put it, "The stuff they sell in the
saloons kills at ten rods."
SUMMER AND FALL, 1905
\ FTER graduating from the Academy
in 1905, 1 decided to remain at Bolton Landing for another
year, so that I could try to complete the church building.
Pews were installed, a new furnace and windows bought,
and the walls finished.
During the summer of that year, I enjoyed the fellow-
ship of a theological student who was caring for the local
Baptist church. While he was an ardent advocate of bap-
tism by immersion, and I was serving a church in which
sprinkling prevailed, we got along perfectly on both land
and sea. In fact, one evening when the boat that we were
rowing sprang a leak and began to 01 with water, my
friend readily admitted that too much liquid slowed up
transportation. Strangely enough, one elderly member of
his church and one of mine resented our friendliness.
They thought that we should be fighting over our credal
differences. To add emphasis to their convictions, my
friend's disgruntled church member began to attend my
205
206 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
church, while my sour saint went to his services. Accept-
ing the exchange agreeably, my Baptist companion re-
marked hopefully, "It usually does cabbage heads good to
transplant them."
For recreation, I frequently took an hour or so off
to go fishing. Since I was usually rewarded with brook
trout, or pickerel from Lake George, I soon established a
reputation as a fisherman. Some people who did not know
the art of fishing even suggested that the minister prob-
ably prayed for the fish to bite.
Such an explanation seemed more plausible than ever
when I announced that I planned to go out into the deeper
water for the coveted and more elusive lake trout. I had
bought a long and strong linen line and gang of hooks, but
had little knowledge of the lake, and no whitefish, which
are the natural food for this particular trout. The only
lure that I had been able to get was artificial. Realizing,
however, that luck seldom comes to people who don't try,
I selected a mild morning and ventured forth.
A skilled fisherman, who had been out since day-
break reported that the fish were not striking and he was
giving up. He had one badly mangled whitefish, which he
gave to me. So, in spite of the fact that the other fisher-
men were having no luck and condemned the water as
being too calm, I decided to make the best of that warm,
sunny day.
Even if the fish are not cooperative, a beautiful lake
affords other rewards to those who look for them. I
rowed in wide circles, just off the point of Tongue Moun-
tain, and pleasing scenes of quietness and strength met my
eyes in every direction. There were the Narrows, leading
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 207
up through numerous little islands toward Paradise Bay
and Black Mountain; there was spacious Northwest Bay,
bordered with wooded hills and rounded mountains; to
the west were Crown and Green and Dome Islands; and,
toward the south, pointing to historic Fort William Henry,
ten miles of silvery water, with more islands, hills, and
protecting mountains. The tender green of the trees gave
a fitting touch of life and beauty, as if all was united in
silent praise of the Creator.
I was drinking my fill of this panorama when my
bamboo pole began to bend as though I had hooked a
submerged snag. Then, just as I was checking my speed
to avoid breaking the line, several rapid, violent tugs
caused the rod to thrash the water.
Aware that I had hooked a big one, I endeavored to
play him carefully. In spite of all I could do, the tip of
my pole kept churning the surface of the lake. My heart
was beating rapidly. I knew that this was the largest and
most stubborn fish that had ever honored me with a nod,
and I was afraid that he might get away. Every time that
I attempted to reel in a bit of line, counter-pulls thwarted
my efforts. Eventually, of course, the fish tired and con-
sented to be brought near the surface, but he did not give
up easily. Several times when it seemed that he was com-
ing into view, he turned and fought his way back to the
bottom, more than one hundred feet down. Fortunately,
my hooks were so firmly imbedded in the mouth of my
fish that he could not break away. I must have had "be-
ginner's luck," for I landed the prize trout of the day, a
specimen weighing nearly ten pounds.
As proof that good fortune can happen more than
208 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
once, I was favored again a few days later. At my request
two ladies, one an adjutant and the other a lieutenant
from the Salvation Army in Glens Falls, came to speak
and sing in my church. An offering was taken for the
Army; and, to show further appreciation for their services,
I invited the two ladies to go for a ride on the lake.
I suggested that we take fishlines with us, but the lieu-
tenant was not enthusiastic, explaining, 'I'm a Jonah to
any fishing party. I never catch anything except weeds
and rocks." Nevertheless, the lines and some borrowed
bait were put in the boat.
We set out on a placid morning, another of those days
when the old fishermen considered the water too calm
for strikes. However, recalling my former experience, I
headed for the place where I had found my hungry fish.
Soon, in a voice that matched the tranquil water, the
lieutenant said, "I think I had a bite."
I glanced at her slender rod and saw that the line
had become detached from the reel and was in danger
of being lost. Backing quickly with one oar, I grasped the
line, handed it to the lady, and remarked that since the
tackle had been borrowed, we were lucky in saving it.
She replied, "I don't feel anything on it now. Perhaps it
was one of my usual weeds." However, the line appeared
to me to be drawing a bit heavily. I thought that she
might possibly have a small fish, and instructed her to pull
in carefully, and to let the line back through her fingers
in a taut manner if she felt any hard pull.
Holding the gaff-hook in readiness, I looked down
into the transparent water and saw a large trout swimming
along as if he were following the bait. Indeed, as we dis-
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 209
covered a few seconds later, he was hooked only by the
skin of his teeth. Possibly, in an effort to accommodate
the charming lady, he was graciously consenting to be led
like a lamb to the slaughter. I was not an expert with the
big hook, and merely frightened the fish on my first at-
tempt to take him into the boat. Fortunately the lieuten-
ant proved to be adept in following orders. Standing up
in the boat, she let out line and pulled it back again until
I was able to make effective use of the gaff.
When we had our beautiful seven-and-one-half
pound trout safely in the boat, the serene lieutenant, in-
stead of boasting of her catch, voiced her gratitude by
saying, "The Lord has sent us a fish/* Aware that the
weather was supposed to be unfavorable, and that other
fishermen were not doing very well on that day, I fully
agreed with her sentiment.
In the fall of that same year, 1905, 1 went back to my
home community to conduct a preaching mission for a
week in the weathered schoolhouse at Brant Lake. As
assistant I took with me the noted cowboy Broncho Char-
lie Miller, who had recently been converted by the Salva-
tion Army in Glens Falls. Broncho Charlie, champion
broncho buster of the West, had been one of the celeb-
rities in Buffalo Bill's famous circus, traveling to Europe
and performing before royalty. He once showed me a
picture of Queen Victoria which she had autographed
for him.
After the Wild West show was no more, Broncho
Charlie had operated a riding stable in Glens Falls. At a
Salvation Army street meeting he heard the young officers
singing and preaching, and followed them to their hall,
Bears, Bibles and a Boy
where he accepted their invitation to become a Christian.
As further proof of his conversion, he often joined the
Army circle on the streets and gave his testimony.
Having heard of the conversion, and knowing that
Broncho Charlie might need encouragement in his new
life, I had made it a point to visit him from time to time.
It was in this endeavor that I got him first to come up to
Bolton Landing where he did some skillful riding and
roping tricks in the street in front of the church and
later to accompany me to Brant Lake. At Brant Lake
Broncho Charlie's role was to tell of his life in the West,
and of his experiences in Buffalo Bill's circus, while I was
to do the preaching. From the start, our evangelistic team,
which also included Father, awakened the people of the
neighborhood, drew them to our meetings, and moved
many of them to take a more positive stand for Chris-
tianity.
There was one man, however, who held back. His
name was Bill Bentley, and with a voice which rever-
Bears, Bibles and a Boy
berated from one side of the valley to the other, he was
forever invoking the damnation of heaven on his poky
old oxen and on every stone that stopped his plow or
dulled his scythe. On one occasion, as he was emitting an
irreverent torrent of words at his oxen, the curse had back-
fired on him. A piece of the whip with which he was em-
phasizing his maledictions broke off, flew back, and
blinded one of his eyes for life. An atheist who lived at
the lake during the summers took great delight in getting
Bill Bentley to work for him, so that he could hear Bill
swear. The violent oaths seemed to afford this man sar-
donic pleasure, and to confirm his lack of faith. During
the plowing, hoeing and haying seasons, therefore, our
valley was filled with Bill's rasping, echoing curses. It was
as if Satan, in a great rage against the piety of my parents,
had gone into open competition with them.
And yet this farmer with the unruly tongue was good
to his family and kind to his neighbors. He let us borrow
his boat whenever we wanted to fish on the lake, and he
allowed us to change our clothes in his wagon house when
we went swimming from his sandy beach. Possibly his
profanity was only a bad habit, and Bill may have been
like the man who once said to his minister, "Dominie, I
am not so wicked after all. 1 swear and you pray, but
neither of us mean anything by it."
Well, on the last evening of our meetings in the tiny
schoolhouse the man who was so loud and so fluent in his
use of sacrilegious words stood up and declared that he
wished to be counted on the Lord's side. Since I had to
leave the community the next day and go back to my
church at Bolton Landing, I had no immediate op-
12 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
portunity to check on the lasting quality of this evange-
listic mission in the land of my boyhood, but I got a report
during the following summer. The spirit of blasphemy
had been decisively cast out. No one had heard a single
oath proceed from the mouth of our last convert. Bill
himself told me why he had been so reluctant to yield to
the Christian invitation. He explained, "I had a rocky plot
of ground to plow, and expected that I would swear a
thousand times while doing it. But, strange as it may seem,
I plowed that rough area without having the least inclina-
tion to curse a single stone/'
MOODY BIBLE INSTITUTE
THIS time I became more and
more convinced that I should continue my education to-
ward the ministry. I considered various schools and col-
leges, but it did not seem possible that I could assume the
financial burden of a regular four-year college course. I
had heard of the Moody Bible Institute in Chicago which
appealed to me because I understood that it was unde-
nominational and offered courses that within two years
might enable a student to become a Bible teacher, min-
ister, song leader or missionary. Stories I had heard of the
sincerity and magnetism of D. L. Moody, who had left his
career as a shoe salesman to become one of the foremost
evangelists of his time, also led me to think that the in-
stitution named for him might be just what I needed.
Moody's example appealed to me particularly, for
while he did not have a formal, theological training, he
devoted himself to reading the Bible and had known re-
213
214 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
markable success in his Sunday School classes. When a
critic once called attention to his mistakes in English,
Moody frankly admitted his lack of education, but said:
"With such English as I can use, I am trying to do my
best to serve God." He then asked, "What are you doing
with your English?"
My train trip to Chicago to attend the Institute for
the spring term of 1906 was quite uneventful. It was
mostly a night ride, during which I slept in my seat as
much as I could. Although I was eager for the new ex-
perience, as I got nearly a thousand miles from home I
began to wonder if I would ever get back. I had never
been more than fifty miles from home before.
When I arrived at the Bible Institute, I looked for-
ward to a hearty welcome, such as the spirit of Moody
would lead one to expect, but the mere routine enroll-
ment and assignment to a room and classes was somewhat
disappointing. However, the practical training in the
Pacific Garden Mission, where Billy Sunday had been
converted, and the street meetings were interesting and
helpful. We went into the slums and saloon districts,
where songs were sung and short sermons or messages
were delivered. The members of a gospel team would
then engage the listeners in personal conversation, inviting
and urging them to become Christians. Questions were
answered, and free booklets and tracts distributed. Stress
was always laid on the teachings of the Bible. We all be-
lieved that "The word is the sword of the Spirit," and
this conviction brought repentance to many.
In missions like the Pacific Garden, sermons and testi-
monials were delivered by carefully chosen speakers, after
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 215
which the procedure was very much like that of the street
meetings. I recall talking to a young man who evidently
had never had much religious training or opportunity to
know the Bible. When I read him the words from Saint
John: "But as many as received Him, to them gave He
power to become the sons of God, even to them that be-
lieve on His name," he eagerly took the little book in his
hands so that he could read the verse for himself.
I shall never forget an evening when I was assigned
to keep the boys quiet outside a mission for children.
I had just told a bear story when the leader of the meet-
ing asked me to come inside and "say a few words." To
our surprise, the boisterous boys all followed me into the
building, and sat perfectly still while I spoke to them.
The only disturbance occurred when a woman who had
been standing on the sidewalk suddenly came into the
room, fell on her knees, and confessed her sins. As proof
216 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
of her conversion, she left with us a bottle which she had
evidently intended to take to a saloon for a refill.
During my sojourn in Chicago I paid a visit to Zion
City, which had been made famous by the preaching and
praying of Alexander Dowie. I remember that there was
a sign on the outskirts of the town forbidding smoking. I
was especially interested in seeing the large tabernacle
where the crowds came to seek healing. Behind the plat-
form I saw crutches, braces, and body supports, once worn
by cripples but now discarded, bearing testimony to the
miracles claimed to have been performed. I also saw a box
of Smith Brothers' Cough Drops solidly nailed to the wall.
Since I was interested in learning how to preach
good sermons, I attended various churches, and on one
Sunday it was my privilege to worship at a church where
Dr. Frank W. Gunsaulus, a distinguished pulpit orator
and writer was preaching. He took for his theme the verse
in St. John: "Now in the place where He was crucified
there was a garden/' We were reminded of the lessons
from seeds and growing things, a timely thought for it
was then the Easter season. It was suggested that every-
one should have a garden, even if only six inches square.
Mr. Gunsaulus advised us to consider the Mies and trees
more carefully, but he rebuked people who drove rapidly
through the country and thought that they were "com-
muning with nature." He asked, referring to the high
speed of travel, "What would you think of a young man
who claimed to be courting a lady at the rate of thirty
miles an hour?"
As I see it now, it was not the plan of Providence for
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 217
me to remain at the Moody Bible Institute. I was a coun-
try-bred boy, and did not like the congestion and smoke
of Chicago. My happiest moments were when I could
leave the turbulent city and go to Lincoln Park, where I
could study in the open air and occasionally watch the
antics of sea lions and polar bears. Possibly I was
merely homesick, but eventually a foolish fear caused me
to decide to leave Chicago. It was the practice of Dr.
Towner, the teacher of music, to pick students at random
and send them up on the platform to lead the class in
singing. If a student protested that he was not musical,
Dr. Towner would maintain that this made the exercise
all the more fun. I was well aware of my musical disability,
and the very idea of this form of merriment was too great
a misery for me. My first thought was to avoid the danger
of wrecking all tuneful harmony, and my own nervous
system as well. So although I had enrolled at the school
for the spring term, I cancelled my registration and left
before it was half-finished. Some of the spirit of the school
remained with me, however, and for that I am grateful.
On my last day in Chicago I visited Montgomery and
Ward's big store and bought a small revolver which I
thought might be of use in killing bears. I went to the top
of the observation tower to feel the strong wind and to
get a last look at the city of which I really knew so little.
The following day I took my departure.
After a boat ride through Lake Erie and a stopover at
Niagara Falls, I went by train to Albany and north to
Glens Falls. It was a great joy to see Mother again, and
the good brothers and sisters who had found steady em-
Bears, Bibles and a Boy
ployment in this beautiful city on the Hudson, But after
a few days, knowing that Father would be expecting me
at Brant Lake, I fastened a few necessities to my bicycle
and pedaled over the dusty road toward the scenes of
my boyhood.
A SORROW
ATHER and I were the only ones at
the little farm that spring. He had been unable to sell the
place, but was still hopeful that we would eventually get
a fair price. Although we missed the bustle around the
house of earlier days, it was good for the two of us to be
together. We enjoyed watching the new beauty of spring
come to the valley, and we were easy companions, both
at work and when we relaxed.
When the trout fishing season opened on May i, we
decided to try our luck in a brushy brook called Desolate.
It was a warm sunny day, and anglers* luck was with me,
for I caught the largest fish, a beauty weighing well over
a pound. However, Father soon took the lead and caught
the most fish. As we were returning home with our catch,
and had reached the very place where I had prayed so
fervently when Mother was ill, a neighbor came along the
220 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
road to meet us. He brought the sad news that Mother
was dead.
Some people might call it mere coincidence that this
communication was given us at this particular bend of
the road, but to me it seemed as though an unseen force
was saying, "Seven years ago, when you prayed here,
your prayer was heard and answered. Now your mother's
work is done, and she has gone to the Better Land."
When Father and I reached Glens Falls we learned
that on her last day, toward evening, Mother had asked
one of my sisters to go to the post office to get my weekly
letter, which she always eagerly awaited. But the post
office was closed, so she said, "111 get it in the morning."
That night she died quietly in her sleep.
After the funeral, Father and I went back to the
little weather-beaten house where Mother had come as a
young bride forty-three years before. As I looked around
me, I found it almost impossible to adjust to the thought
that she had gone forever from this earth. It did not seem
reasonable that the house in which she had lived, the roses
which she had set out by the stone wall in the front yard,
and the clump of lilacs up on the hill should outlast the
one who had cared for them for so many years. Even
the ledge of rocks, the large trees and the surrounding
mountains seemed to taunt me with the truth that they
were more enduring than the one who had loved us so
tenderly and faithfully.
Of course, I remembered the divine promise about
the spirit that goes to God, but my faith was put to a
severe test. Did I really believe what I hoped for, 'and
what I professed to believe? In the darkness of the night
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 221
I would sometimes awake from sleep with a fear that
death might be like an endless night and that the survival
of my mother's soul somewhere in the universe was a
theory too good to be true. I would be so depressed that
I could not lie in bed, but presently I found relief for my
troubled mind. As I went to the window and looked up
at the stars, their shining splendor seemed to assure me
that I had all the reason in the world for believing in im-
mortality. They gave me the same confident answer each
time.
When I was a very small boy the stars had fascinated
me. They did not seem to be so very far up in the sky,
but only just above the roof of our house. One evening
when they were shining brightly I went out back of the
shed, took down Father's long ash fishpole, and attempted
to knock down a few stars, Now, twenty years later, the
same kindly stars beamed down on me, and I was gkd
that I had not disturbed them from their moorings.
A CERTAIN DANGER
N OUR common sorrow, Father and I
found comfort in the words of the Great Book. Like a
faithful priest in his own home, Father never failed to
read a full chapter from the Bible every morning, and
another in the evening. There were other activities, too,
which helped to heal us. We fished, set and tended bear
traps, and found a bee tree with good honey in it.
Since the season for bear trapping was drawing to a
close, and the bears had somehow avoided being caught,
Father went off early one afternoon to spring his trap.
When he had not returned for the trout supper that I had
prepared, nor at nine o'clock when the overcast sky turned
to intense darkness, I began to worry. I knew that Father
Bears, Bibles and a Bay
had a way of reading the contours of the mountains and
the familiar ground over which he had traveled so many
times; but I recalled the stories of his narrow escapes from
wounded bears, and knew also that he was no longer as
agile as he had been, and that he was alone. It was so
dark that I could not see even the dusty gray road which
wound close to the house. Time and again I opened the
front door so that light from our dim kerosene lamp might
guide him. Under such circumstances time moved slowly,
but at about eleven o'clock the sound of Father's foot-
steps put an end to my fears. His exultant voice greeted
me with the words, "I've got one."
The prize was a large female bear which he had
found dead in his trap, apparently killed by another ani-
mal. Father had flayed the bear, folded the pelt to his
shoulders, and started back without incident toward the
mountain pass and home. Now as he told me the story,
Father realized that he had left his pistol behind him on a
log near the trap. It was not until the next day, when he
went back for the pistol and to reset his trap, that he
realized the experience of the day before could have
ended quite differently for him.
Large tracks near the trap and through the mountain
pass indicated that Father had been watched and fol-
lowed. Evidently the huge mate hacl paced angrily back
and forth out of sight while Father was busily engaged in
skinning the pelt from the dead bear. While black bears
are generally afraid of human beings, and are quick to
ran off at the sound of a hunter's footsteps, this big *nale
apparently was not inclined to flee. Perhaps an instinctive
loyalty to his mate kept him near, even though he did not
224 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
have the courage to defend her. Some trappers have re-
ported hearing a bear sob, much like a person; and Father
often said that one bear which he had shot made a noise
that sounded like "Oh, dear/* But in our valley there was
not much sentiment for bears that killed our sheep in the
darkness, and certainly not a great deal of sympathy for
an old male who pretended affection for his mate at one
period of the year, only to kill her cubs later on.
It seemed as though this cautious male must have
followed Father's burdened figure for quite some distance,
but had never found the right moment for attack. Father
later learned from some vacationers that the fearful noises
of some animal had kept them awake all night. In fact, a
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 225
lady from the city was so frightened by the dreadful
sounds that she lost no time in leaving the cottage where
she was being entertained. She was sure that the moun-
tains were haunted-
CONFUSIONS AND CONVICTIONS:
WESLEYAN UNIVERSITY, 1906
NTIL this time I had no conception
of what a college was like. As I have mentioned, no one
from our section of the Adirondacks had ventured forth
even for a highschool education, to say nothing of going
to college. However, the urge to seek higher education
had been growing stronger and stronger within me, and
I was fortunate in receiving enthusiastic support from
two clergymen, George C. Douglass and C. O. Judkins.
When I mentioned to George Douglass that the financial
problems seemed almost insurmountable, he told me how
he had worked his way through college. He said also that
his financial resources had been so limited that once when
he received a letter from his mother warning him to
watch out for pickpockets, he had had to borrow a postage
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 227
stamp to mail his reply. C. O. Judkins, the builder of a
splendid church in Glens Falls, gave me further reassur-
ance, and even suggested two people who might be will-
ing to lend me money for college expenses. Greatly en-
couraged by the advice of these two men, I decided upon
Wesleyan University, in Middletown, Connecticut, rea-
soning in my heart that the best way to accomplish any-
thing worthwhile is to begin doing something about it.
In September of 1906, with less than one hundred
dollars in my pocket, I started for Wesleyan. Since I had
had four years of Latin and three of Greek, plus a diploma
from the Glens Falls Academy and another from the
Regents of New York State, I was accepted as a student
without examination. This was fortunate for me, for I was
a rather slow learner and because of my ministerial work
had never had enough time to get my translations of
Caesar, Cicero, Virgil, Xenophon and Homer in accurate
classical form. I felt rather shaky in these subjects and
could sympathize with the student who, having heard
that pure Attic Greek might be the language of heaven,
wrote the lines:
What to me will heaven be? What its joy?
If I should flunk in Attic when a boy?
As matters turned out, I never failed to pass the
periodic tests in both Latin and Greek, but it must have
been evident to my instructors that I was not a star of the
first magnitude in linguistics. An English professor of
mine, after saying some encouraging things about one of
my compositions, once remarked, "By the way, Mr. Rob-
erts, some people spell differently from you." My Greek
228 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
and Latin professors at Wesleyan, when they saw my
handling of tenses, datives, and accusatives in these highly
developed languages, might have been provoked to a
similar criticism. I was aware, however, that my failings
were not due entirely to stupidity, but were partly the
fault of a system of education that did not take into con-
sideration the unfortunate fact that self-supporting stu-
dents often have little time for their studies.
During my senior year, when I had more hours for
study, I took Hebrew. I began by learning the alphabet
forward and backward, and pursued vocabulary and
grammar with the same thoroughness. As a result, my
midyear mark in that subject was 99%. Doubtless I spelled
some word a little differently.
Considering the way in which I had been brought up
on the Bible it will not seem strange when I say that I
experienced my greatest mental upheaval at Wesleyan in
the realm of faith, especially when I began to study the
subjects of biology and evolution. While the assignment
of dissecting a tail-less frog for the sake of science sheds
some light on why we think of these jumpers as "brother
frogs," I was not fascinated with the theory which pur-
ported that amoeba begat tadpole, which begat monkey,
which begat anthropoid ape, which begat missing-link,
which begat man. I had always been led to believe that
God had made all things very much as they now appear,
and that he had done so in a relatively short period of
time. Fortunately for me, the distinguished Professor
Conn, under whom I studied biology and evolution, was
a devout and religious man. He held thoroughly to the
evolutionary process of creation, but he also believed
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 229
that this apparently slow and gradual method of natural
selection was God's way of working. It was reassuring to
know that a great scholar did not try to eliminate God
from the universe but, rather, saw Him working in it and
through it at all times.
Our instructors were men of deep learning, always
patient and inspiring, but also gifted with keen humor.
Once when Professor Conn was asked at the bank whether
he would like his money in new bills, the authority on
germs replied, "I am not afraid of old money bacteria
can't live on my salary."
This same professor also revealed to us that one of the
most logical places to dig for earthworms is in a spinster's
garden, for birds devour worms, cats scare the birds away,
and old maids generally keep cats. At the same time my
study of biology taught me to realize the worth of angle-
worms as soil-builders. I had known from experience their
value in catching fish, but I learned that from sand and
decaying vegetable matter these underground workers
make humus, so essential for growing prize crops.
Because we were eager to solve the baffling problems
of philosophy and religion, a group of students, including
myself, formed what we called a Quest Club. We met
regularly to discuss such questions as the Idea of the
Trinity, the Resurrection, and the cussedness of Evil. The
heads of the various departments at Wesleyan often gave
short talks at these meetings.
Caleb T. Winchester, our teacher of literature, sug-
gested that we read Dr. Eleanor Rowland's The Right to
Believe. I followed the recommendation, and was richly
rewarded. Dr. Rowland contends that if we want a God, we
230 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
have as much, right to believe in Him as others have to
take sides with the "no-God." People who think it is more
intellectual to doubt God's reality are like a man who
leans over backward in an effort to stand up straight.
As a further bulwark, I recalled the teachings of the
Bible, and was able to rise above all dark dreams of doubt.
The Book of my parents, the starry sky above, and the joy
of Christian experience all seemed to bear witness to the
virtue of faith. So it was that instead of losing my faith
as a result of my courses in science and philosophy, my
convictions concerning the great teachings of Christianity
became more firmly grounded than ever before. In short,
my feelings toward those who spoke against the Bible
were similar to those of Mark Twain when he was asked
to buy a ticket to hear Robert Ingersoll lecture on "Some
Mistakes of Moses." The noted humorist said that he
wouldn't pay ten cents to hear Ingersoll lecture on the
mistakes of Moses, but he would be willing to pay ten
dollars to hear Moses lecture on the mistakes of Bob
Ingersoll.
At the same time that I was broadening my horizons
through the meetings of the Quest Club, I was also gaining
valuable practical experience by earning money to help
pay college bills. A sales manager for a publishing com-
pany trained me to go from house to house selling books.
The effort was glamorized as a part of The Purity Move-
ment, and great pains were taken to show me the best
way to get a hearing. When housewives saw my sample
book and assumed a negative attitude, I was to create a
friendly atmosphere by explaining that I wished to talk
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 231
to them about the Self and Sex Crusade. Not surprisingly,
doors were opened wide when I used this approach, and
I was rewarded with many sales of What Young People,
Married Couples, and Older Folks Ought to Know.
HEARTS AND PRIZES
IT THE end of my freshman year in
college, I was given a summer appointment to preach in
a little church back in the foothills of the Adirondacks.
I boarded at a hotel which gave me low rates, with the
understanding that I was to help make the social life of
the guests, most of whom were women, as pleasant as
possible. In this rather agreeable assignment I had an
opportunity to fill in some gaps in my education. I dis-
covered that it would require the wisdom of a Solomon
and the diplomacy of a Benjamin Franklin to divide my
attention among the ladies successfully, so that no one
would feel slighted. The problem became more involved
when an extremely attractive young lady came to spend
her vacation at the cottage next to mine. She had a new
canoe, and needed a man to help her paddle it and to
show her how to fish. Her uncle, who brought her to the
hotel, had confided to me that if any man hoped to sue-
Bears, Bibles and a Boy
ceed in winning his niece, he would have to go after her
like "a thousand of brick." With three years more of col-
lege ahead of me, and with other considerations that
tended to make me cautious, I hardly felt like going after
anyone in the overwhelming manner that "a thousand of
brick" might imply, but I did like to go canoeing with
this particular girl, whose name was Laura.
Our acquaintance was progressing very well when
Laura decided to spend a fortnight with her father. On
the very day that she left the hotel, three nurses arrived
at the lake for their vacation. One of them, a pretty
blonde named Ruth, was upset because her trunk had
been left behind at the station, some twelve miles away.
Obviously, it fell to me to pacify the young lady* I sug-
gested that the three girls take a boatride with me and
forget the delayed baggage until the stage could bring it
the next day. The plan worked perfectly, and everybody
seemed happy. Ruth was so pleased with the boatride
that she wanted to go with me again and learn how to
catch pickerel, which we did the next day. When we re-
turned for dinner some of the guests, in a fun-loving
mood, greeted us with rice and old shoes.
We laughed at this prank, but a few days later my
name was again linked with that of the blonde nurse. A
number of the younger people were gathering to go to a
country dance, and I moved about among them, saying
pleasant things and attempting to be social, just as I was
expected to be. When I happened to say to Ruth, "Be
sure to come home early/' she replied, "I will, if youTl
come after me." I pretended to play her game and offered
to meet her, but named such an early hour that I felt sure
234 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
she would back down. However, to my surprise, she
agreed. As I tried to crawl out of a situation which I
feared might lead to another reception with rice, she
smiled and said, "Are you a quitter?'' So of course I met
her and brought her safely back to the hotel. Someone
saw us together when we returned, and since topics of
conversation are limited at such a resort, this bit of gossip
was soon passed along.
Meanwhile, I had received a letter from Laura saying
that she and her father were on an estate where she had a
boat and an entire lake to herself. She called attention to
the stunning moon, and asked, "What is the good of it
all without a man to row me?"
By the time Laura returned to the lake Ruth had left,
and I was sure that all the excitement about our fancied
romance had died down. I was entirely mistaken. Laura's
first question was about my doings while she was away.
She listened to my rather lengthy effort to explain away
the gossip she had heard, and then fixing me with a glance
of final judgment said, "Mr. Roberts, you have certainly
learned the game."
Dejected by such an appraisal, but not entirely with-
out hope, I recalled the lines: "There is something about
a woman I could never understand, And my knowledge
goes as far as any scholar's in the land." I must admit,
though, that if I had any conceit about my wisdom con-
cerning feminine matters, I lost it at that time.
The shy country boy who had been called a "quitter"
by one girl and a wolf who had "learned the game" by
another got safely back to college in September. My
Bears, Bibles and a Boy
sophomore year proved to be a good one. With Greek,
Latin, mathematics, physics, and chemistry no longer
required, I was able to turn to literature, psychology,
philosophy, and public-speaking, which I felt had more
bearing on my chosen career. I became a member of the
Sophomore debating team, which defeated the Freshmen,
and so was encouraged to enter the trials for the Inter-
collegiate contest, but the upperclassmen were too ex-
perienced for me.
Each year the college held a prize debate for all
classes, and I managed to secure third place on one of the
teams. Because of the reputation of the juniors and sen-
iors, I worked hard and was able to carry off half the
prize. A junior took the other half, while the over-con-
fident seniors were disappointed.
A little later in the year, I was selected as one of the
competitors in the Annual Oratorical Contest. Since I had
had an impediment in my speech in grade-school days, I
applied myself to acquiring a better speaking voice, and
zealously practiced such exercises as "She sells sea shells/*
"A big black bug bit a big black bear," and that other
tongue-twister which goes as follows: "If Theophilus
Thistle, the successful thistle-sifter, in sifting a sieve full
of unsifted thistles, thrust three thousand thistles through
the thick of his thumb, see that thou, in sifting a sieve full
of unsifted thistles, thrust not three thousand thistles
through the thick of thy thumb. Success to the successful
thistle-sifter."
This last must have done the trick, for while I was
training for the big elocutionary event our instructor no-
ticed my improvement and remarked, "Mr. Roberts, while
236 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
you speak more rapidly than the other men do, your words
are so distinct that you do not need to slow down/* In
any event, diligence was the mother of good luck, and
my efforts were rewarded with the fifty-dollar first prize.
Needless to say, when Father heard of my success
in oratory, he was more elated than he would have been
if he had just caught the largest sheep-killing bear in the
Adirondacks.
THE BEST PRIZE OF ALL
S GOOD as it was to win a couple of
prizes, this same year held even better things in store for
me. A church in nearby Wethersfield, Connecticut, which
had been served by a senior, was soon to have a vacancy.
I became a candidate for the position, and was fortunate
enough to be selected. Beginning in April, I had to pre-
pare two sermons a week, but the church was only ten
miles from Wesleyan and I could easily travel back and
forth by trolley. The weekly addition to my income was a
great boon, and well worth the extra effort.
At the very beginning of my ministerial activities a
reception was held to say farewell to the young pastor
who was leaving the church and to welcome me as his
successor. I saw among the guests a young lady whom I
hoped I would see again, and later in the evening my
predecessor introduced us. He told me that she was a
member of another church and came to this one only in
2-37
238 Bears., Bibles and a Boy
the evening, when her own church did not have services.
However, she frequently sang in our choir and sometimes
substituted as organist My friend praised her character
and charm and mentioned that if he had not already been
committed to a young lady, he would have chosen this
one.
Her name was Jeanie Holmes, and she was twenty-
three years old. I learned that she was a teacher in a local
school. Previously, when she was only twenty, she had
undertaken the difficult task of instructing and disciplin-
ing some fifty County Home pupils, most of them under-
privileged children from disrupted families. She had
taught all grades. On the opening day of school the super-
intendent had presented her with a whip and had ex-
plained that she was not to count on him for any assist-
ance in governing the ill-mannered students, some of
whom were taller and bigger than their teacher. He
added, "If you can't handle them, I'll get someone who
can/' A less resolute person might have lost heart but
Jeanie, who was a doughty Scot, replied, "Don't worry,
I'll never call on you."
In a short time the boys and girls in Jeanie's school
became as orderly as a company of soldiers. She had to
use the whip at first on some of the larger boys, but firm-
ness coupled with kindness soon won their respect. Dur-
ing recesses she played games with them in the yard,
and she taught them to sing. Many visitors came to hear
the singing, and farmers made it a habit to rest their
horses outside the school building and listen.
I was able to see Jeanie Holmes again after our first
meeting, even sooner than I had hoped. It was the custom
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 239
for the members of my church to billet the young minis-
ters in various homes from Saturday to Monday. On one
weekend, when it was not convenient for a certain couple
to take me into their house, the Holmes house was sug-
gested. Even though they were not affiliated with our
church, their hospitality was well known. After that first
pleasant weekend with the Holmes family, it was some-
thing more than appreciation and pastoral interest which
led me back to see them quite frequently.
As our friendship deepened I was able to conquer
some of my former shyness with the ladies. I offered Jean
the gold medal which had been awarded me for being
on the college debating team, and she consented to wear
it on a chain about her neck. Our courtship continued,
and the anticipation of seeing Jean every weekend added
greatly to my enthusiasm for traveling back and forth
to Wethersfield to minister to the little Methodist church
240 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
there. Jeanie also visited me at Wesleyan. When I first
invited her for a Commons Club party, an elderly lady
whom I knew offered to let Jean stay at her home during
the weekend festivities. Along with the offer of hospitality,
my elderly friend cautioned me against losing my heart
to the first girl I invited to a college party. A few days
later, after she had met Jeanie, my friend had quite dif-
ferent advice. She said, "Mr. Roberts, if you ever get a
chance to marry Jeanie Holmes, and don't do it, I'll lose
all my respect for you." These were, as a matter of fact,
exactly my own sentiments.
However, as so often happens, when we would like
to go up and possess the Promised Land at once, obstacles
like the Walls of Jericho block our way. In my case, I had
two more years of college to finish, and after that there
was an obligation to my unmarried sisters who had pro-
vided a home for me in Glens Falls. To make matters
more difficult, during the second semester of my senior
year I had a severe attack of blood poisoning and was con-
fined to the hospital for ten weeks. A cheering note during
this period was provided by my Chemistry professor, who
visited me and made the undoubtedly true prediction:
"You will feel a lot better when you get over it." Gradu-
ally my health improved so that I was able to study in bed,
and since a member of my class let me copy his notes
from the lectures, I passed my final examination and
graduated with better than average grades.
MY FIRST FULL-TIME CHURCH
FTER graduation I applied for a
church and full-time pastoral work. Returning to Troy
Conference, where I had the credentials of a Local
Preacher, I was sent to a tiny Methodist church at Berlin,
New York, a place strategically situated, as I thought,
between Jeanie in Connecticut, my sisters at Glens Falls
and Father at Brant Lake.
As a lover of mountains, I was delighted to be among
the Berkshires where the white birch trees grow on the
higher slopes and large fields of gladioli beautify the val-
ley. More than this, though, I was eager for the challenge
of Christian service, and hopeful that in due time I might
bring Jean to the parsonage as my wife. The salary was
six hundred dollars a year not a very large amount for
clothing, food, fuel, books, and the repayment of a college
loan. The parsonage was provided, however, and I had
a place to keep thirty hens, so had eggs to eat, to trade
for groceries, and to share with others. And the people of
241
Bears, Bibles and a Boy
Berlin responded to my efforts in increasing numbers. Not
only did the stalwart saints take on a more hopeful spirit,
but also many people who had not been in the habit of
church attendance began to come.
Following my previous experience, I went after some
of the "lost sheep." Although our town had voted against
selling intoxicating drink, there was a house across the
valley called "The Crow's Nest," where liquor was il-
legally sold. Attempts had been made to secure evidence
of the sale of liquor, but so far it had been impossible to
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 243
obtain the necessary proof. In addition, there was a
rumor in the community that any stranger who might be
caught spying around "The Crow's Nest" would be met
with hot lead.
I learned that a woman was in charge of "The Crow's
Nest" and that her husband was ill. Believing that I might
turn man's extremity into God's opportunity, I decided to
include this house among my sick calls, and chose an early
afternoon for my visit.
It was with some apprehension that I walked up the
hill to "The Crow's Nest" and knocked. Almost immedi-
ately the door opened, revealing a woman with such
stringy, unkempt hair that she reminded me of Medusa,
whose fearful countenance turned men to stone. Intro-
ducing myself as the new minister, I explained that I had
heard of her husband's illness and had come to ask if there
was any way I could help.
Suddenly the hard, scowling face became wet with
tears. "You are the first decent person to come to my house
in years," she said.
From his bed in an adjoining room, the husband
called out to me, and as I talked to him it was clear that
sickness and unemployment had been instrumental in
leading these two into their illegal dealings. Both husband
and wife seemed ready to lead better lives and from
then on they really did. While the man remained an invalid
and so could not take a job, his wife secured employment
in a shirt factory, and began to attend church. For a young
minister it had been a good day's work to accomplish what
was done without law and without trouble and I felt
that the experience had clearly demonstrated the saying,
244 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
"Kindness has converted more sinners than zeal, eloquence
or learning/'
Over the years I had become increasingly concerned
about Father who, though over eighty, clung to the farm
which had been his earthly home for more than half a
century. Sisters Clara and Antha took turns keeping house
for him, and he frequently visited his eldest daughter,
Alice, whose home was only a few miles from Brant
Lake. During part of my first winter in Berlin he came to
be with me; but as spring approached, he responded to
the call of the Brant Lake country where he could gather
sweet sap from his maples and do some late-season trap-
ping and fishing.
At times brother Ruel, who followed in Father s foot-
steps as a hunter, spent long periods with him during
which they hunted along the familiar trails. Later on Ruel
joined the Marines and was sent to the Canal Zone, where
he found excitement now and then in connection with
the capture of wild animals. On one occasion he tracked
down and killed two pumas which were preying on small
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 245
goats and cattle, and another time he captured two bear
cubs which became company mascots and were named
for Theodore Roosevelt and his daughter Alice, who were
inspecting the Canal at that time.
After his return to the States, Ruel settled in Glens
Falls, bought some swampy land which no one else
wanted, cut out the alders, and made the land into a fertile
garden. Having discovered that the wetness of the ground
was caused by a cool spring of water which came from
under a high bank, he dug ditches and a series of pools
in which he raised a surprisingly large number of trout.
And since he was so near to Lake George and other bodies
of water, he furnished bait for fishermen.
In time of drouth, when other gardens suffered for
the lack of moisture, Ruel had prize crops of radishes, let-
tuce, parsley, carrots, and corn. He sold fresh vegetables
to the markets, and people who came for fish bait often
bought the vegetables right from the garden.
When the gardening season was over, Ruel turned to
hunting and trapping. He drove a Ford car, and was able
to spread his traps over a wide area, adding many hun-
dreds of dollars to his yearly income. As a guide for deer-
hunting, he was also in great demand.
Ruel did not attempt to trap bears, but he did track
down and kill a sixty-nine pound lynx which had fright-
ened some hunters out of the woods. Best of all, he be-
came enthusiastic about the conservation of wild life, and
wrote articles on ways and means for preserving our fish
and game.
It was natural for members of the family to move to
Glens Falls, our nearest city, for there were more oppor-
246 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
tunities for year-round work there. My brother John be-
came a carpenter and builder, married and had a family
who often visited Father at Brant Lake, but no one could
persuade Father to move from his stronghold among the
hills before it could be sold.
HONEYMOON AT PHARAOH LAKE
EANTIME, all was going wefl with
my little church, and in May of 1910 I was successful in
persuading Jeanie Holmes to become my wife. We were
married in a double-ring ceremony at Wethersfield, and
I added force to the vow "And with my worldly goods I
thee endow" by giving her twenty-five gold pieces as a
wedding gift.
On my small salary it was not possible to plan the
traditional wedding trip to Niagara Falls, but I thought I
knew of an even better place for a honeymoon. So after
a few weeks at Berlin, Jeanie and I headed north toward
Glens Falls, Brant Lake, and Pharaoh Lake. We were to
spend a few days with Father at the old farm, and I had
engaged my convert and friend, Bill Bentley, to meet
our boat at Hague, on Lake George, and to convey us by
horse and wagon over the ten miles of mountain road to
Brant Lake. Bill was not only prompt and accommodating,
247
248 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
but also displayed no trace of his former rough talk. When
he had got us safely over the winding, bumpy road, and
had had a chance to size up my attractive bride, he ex-
tended his welcome by saying, "When you git time, come
down to see us, and bring your worman with you."
For several days we lived in a small umbrella-tent on
the old farm, where sister Clara was keeping house for
Father. Then, with Clara, my nephew Frank Schneider,
and his sister Josephine, we set out over the road to
Pharaoh Lake. Burdened as we were with supplies, the
journey seemed longer than the five miles from Warren
County over into Essex, but we finally reached the Lake
and rowed to Little Island, where we set up our tent.
This particular camping site was a favorite of mine,
for it was partially shaded by a dozen pine and cedar
trees, and afforded a splendid view of the lake and the
encircling mountains. Situated as it is on state land, with
free camping privileges, I often spoke of the place as our
million-dollar estate. For a young bride who had never
experienced roughing it, the strenuous hike into the rug-
ged, mountainous park, and the hard mattress of solid
earth for her bed provided Jeanie with a fitting initiation
into the Roberts family. Moreover, the weather for the
first night of our camping trip was far from cooperative.
As if conspiring against us, the heavens let loose torrents
of rain. The wind blew the humid sprays through the
tent flap, soaking Jeanie's feet, and rivulets pouring down
the sides of the canvas formed pools under us.
The next night we camped on an island with better
drainage facilities, and found for our inexperienced
camper a bed of boughs and moss which a former camper
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 249
must have carefully made to provide some measure of
comfort. These sleeping quarters only made matters worse,
however, for the bed proved to be infested with lice,
which quickly found a new habitation in Jeanie's dark
brown hair. With such an initiation, one would not have
blamed her for never wanting to see the woods again. But
Jeanie learned to fish so well that she sometimes caught
more than anyone else, and eventually became as eager as
I was to turn back to the wildwood every summer.
There is an old rhyme that goes:
When the wind is in the east
It's good for neither man nor beast;
When it's in the south,
It blows the hook into the fish's mouth;
But when it is in the west,
It is at its best.
How true this poem is I do not know, but I do know
that in order to be successful one must fish in the right
places, at the right depth, at the right speed, with the
right lure, at the right time of day, and with the right
muscular reaction. People who are slow in learning the
fine arts of angling spend a vacation at Pharaoh Lake
and go away believing that there are no trout to be
caught. I remember a Labor Day afternoon when my
wife and I had just landed a speckled beauty and some
fishermen with flashing rods came by and called out:
"That must be the last one in the lake." Since we had been
out from early morning, and since we were not at that
time limited as to number of fish by law, we were able to
250 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
reply: "That's all right, we've brought in twenty others
today."
Even now this secluded place has not been overtaken
by the inroads of civilization, and the trout have not been
all caught out. Larger lake trout are caught in Lake
George, but the Pharaoh trout are of superior quality.
252 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
Meantime, without consulting me or anyone else in
the family and evidently thinking that my college educa-
tion and ministerial experience qualified me to handle
real estate on earth as well as to preach about it in heaven,
Father had deeded the farm to me. Soon a letter came to
me, asking what I would take for this property. Because
I cherished a desire to keep the weather-worn house and
surrounding woodland for a summer camp, at least so
long as Father might live, I set the selling figure at five
thousand dollars. By return mail a check came to bind
the bargain. Five thousand dollars seemed like a lot of
money for the buildings and rocky land, and some of our
neighbors thought I had asked too much, but eventually
the other farms sold for good prices too. Thus our prece-
dent proved to be of benefit to all inhabitants of the
valley.
The sale of the farm enabled another wish of mine
to come true, for, with Father's ready consent, part of the
money was given to my brother John, so that he could
build a house in Glens Falls where my unmarried sisters
could live and make a home for Father during his remain-
ing days.
For Father, who had loved to walk in the forest and
among the hills, life in the city was not ideal, but there
were compensations. Seven of his children, and a number
of grandchildren, now resided in Glens Falls. Even though
his trapping days were ended, he still had the pleasure
of reading the Bible and of telling stories to attentive
young listeners. One little girl, the daughter of a neigh-
bor, told her parents enthusiastically that she had met a
fine old man with a long white beard. "He told us chil-
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 253
dren how the bears live way up back of the mountains,
and he talked to us about the Bible and the love of God."
I was very grateful for the way everything had
turned out for my family, and for the part that I had been
able to take in helping them. However, we were soon to
face another sadness.
Only a few months after Father had put his Bible,
pistol, and clothes in a bundle and slowly walked away
from his Brant Lake farm, I received a telegram that he
had suffered a serious stroke. When I reached Glens Falk
I found him partially paralyzed, but his mind was dear
and his voice unaffected. As he saw me enter his room,
he said:
"Well, Jesse, I'm going home. I know it, and I have
known it for a long time/' He told me he was happy and
Bears, Bibles and a Boy
asked me to read to him from his Bible. I opened to some
of the passages which he especially liked, and read:
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:
He leadeth me beside the still waters,
He restoreth my soul.
and
My sheep hear my voice, and I know them,
and they follow me: and I give unto them
eternal life; and they shall never perish.
Proving that the same words which had sustained
him throughout his life gave strength in the valley of the
shadow of death, Father responded with a fervent
"Amen."
Ten days later, realizing that he was steadily grow-
ing weaker, Father expressed a desire to have strong
hands hold his own. One son took his right hand, another
his left. After a few moments of tenseness as if, like
Samson of old, he was tearing up the bonds of earth that
imprisoned him, Father relaxed and his spirit returned to
Him who gave it.
Later, as all nine of us children gathered in the
cemetery, we could see the Adirondacks to the north, and,
across the plain, the Green Mountains from which Father
had come over a half-century before. We listened to the
comforting words of St. Paul which Father had read to
us so many times, and which he had requested for this
service.
Bears, Bibles and a Boy 255
For I am persuaded, that neither death,
nor life, nor angels, nor principalities,
nor powers, nor things present, nor things to
come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other
creature, shall be able to separate us from
the love of God. . . .
As I finish this book, I have a letter from a friend at
Brant Lake saying that the leaves of the trees up around
my boyhood home are more beautiful this year than ever.
Perhaps this is because the place is being written about,
and is smiling in the pleasure of being introduced to the
public. I can see it all vividly through the eyes of my
memory, though there is present also a lonesome feeling,
256 Bears, Bibles and a Boy
because my people are not there, nor even the house
which was once so full of life.
Still, as good deeds never die, so do kind souls live
on beyond their graves, continuing to bless all who knew
them. Grateful to the God-loving parents who, through
the power of the Book they read in the back country,
bequeathed to their children a rich heritage of faith,
hope, and courage, I dedicate what I have written to the
memory of Ann Eliza and Edwin Roberts, my mother
and my father.
(Continued from front flgp)
and patience of his parents, and the words
of wisdom which encouraged him to seek
a higher education and devote his adult
life to the ministry.
When he finished this book, Mr. Roberts
wrote: "A friend from Brant Lake has
recently said tkt the leaves of the trees
up around my boyhood home are more
beautiful this year than ever. Perhaps this
is because the place is being written
about, and is smiling in the pleasure of
being introduced to the public/ 9 Readers
too will be warmed by the sincerity and
natural humor of these affectionate mem-
ories, in this troubled time, Bears, Bibks
and a Boy sounds a refreshing note, and
readers of all ages will respond to the
words of the author, who has truly found
serenity in the love of fellow men, of
nature, and of his God.
TheoAutbor
Jesse David Roberts was born in 1882
at Brant Lake, Warren County, New York,
a r ci p-ew up among the mountains of the
b;ck country. After graduating from
We* it T an University at Middletown, Con-
nect re h^ was pastor of churches at
Bed t . \a\\ York, and at South Meriden,
mi(:;rl ard Milford in Connecticut
n *.u( i S Kith Meriden, he took post-
cm! uf .- u rk at Wesleyan in social psy-
choit.^; i (I the philosophy of religion.
He has also sentd for eight years in the
Home Study Department of Columbia
University.
Bears, Bibks ami a Boy is Mr. Roberts'
first book, although he has written articles
for various church papers. Having retired
from the ministry, he now lives with his
wife in Milford,
Open Library