.^^ .^ •^ 'W, Pw V <^ >> ^ ^ 1 a <$> ^ • y^tn^ ■< . -f^ m 0^ Camps and Tramps IN THE ADIRONDACKS, AND GRAYLING FISHING IN NORTHERN MICHIGAN : A RECORD OF Summer Vacations in tiie Wilderness. BY / A. JUDD NORTHJRUP. jVr JfftQii^ bVKACUSE, N. DAVIS, BAKDEEN & CO., PUBLISHERS. NEW YORK: r.AKER, THATT & CO. 1880. Copyright, 1880, By A. JUDD NORTHRUP. PREFACE. The iacidents recorded in the following pages have been neither invented nor exaggerated to any appreciable de- gree. I have written in the belief that the actual doings of real personages, always and everywhere, have an interest of themselves quite independent of the manner of the tell- ing, if the telling be truthful. So much I meant to be sure of at all hazards. What we said, also, is perhaps as veraciously set forth as the average interviewer reports his unwilling victim. I have endeavored, indeed to give to the reader truthful pictures of the actual summer vacation life in the Adirondacks, to refresh the recollection of those who have camped and tramped where we did, and to bring back somewhat of their enjoyment of the lakes and moun- tains and streams ; and also to give to others who may read these records a reasonable, vivid and fair impression of the wilderness and the experiences of summer life there. The chapters on Grayling Fishing have been added, as having at least a cousinly relationship to the general sub- ject of the book. The wisest of men, off in the woods, on a summer vaca- tion, are "boys out of school;" and they seldom cany much of the "shop" with them from office, store or desk. The personages who appear in the following pages are no exception to the rule. Doubtless the}' could have talked any amount of philosophy, law, poetry, and wisdom of all sorts; but, indisputably, they did not. Indeed, I do not think the reader who has selected this book, from its title, for a leisure hoiu* by the fireside or under the trees, is look- |y TREFACE. in- between these covers for that kind of thing. I hope rather to meet his expectation that here is something of the woods woodsy, of the camp merry, of the streams trout-y. And I hope, also, that if he accompanies us "campers through our varied experiences in camp and tramp, he will sometime follow our example and our trail and get great good thereby. — My companions on these excursions were as follows:— To "Jock's Lake," H. H. Thompson, then of the United States Treasury, now in the Treasurer's office of the N. 1 . & E R R Co. ; Mr. Johnson, merchant, of Washington, D C • Professor Loomis, then of Manlius Academy, Manlius, N. Y. ; and E. J. Benson, merchant, then of Syracuse, now of Binghamton, N. Y. To " The St; Regis and Saranacs," D. H. Bruce, one of the editors of the Syracuse Daily Joimial. To "The Beaver River Waters," Hon. W. J. Wallace, U S District Judge of the Northern District of New York- D H Bruce of the Syracuse Daily Journal; and C. h'. Lyman, of the Syracuse Daily Standard, all of Syracuse, N. Y. On the trip, " Booneville to Saratoga," my son Edwin F Northrup, then eleven years of age. To "Cranberry Lake and the Oswegatchie Waters, Reuben Wood, the " Captain;" Hon. George N. Kennedy lawyer and Ex-Senator; Hon. Irving G. Vann, lawyer and late Mayor of Syracuse; John J. Meldram, then Sheriff of Onondaga County; and William B. K"-k, Jr. all of Syracuse, N. Y. ; and E. B. White, Justice of the Peace, of Hermon, N. Y. On the excursion, - Grayling Fishing in Michigan," Hon. S M Cutcheon, U. S. District Attorney, of Detroit, Mich. A. J. N. Syracuse, N. Y., March 24. 1880. CONTENTS. JOCK'S LAKE. Pagk. Chapter I.— Bensou discourses of the woods— The start— Ou the way— Utica— Early mornino— Old clothes— Who we were— Breakfast, pipes, 'coffee- pots, art, and music— Wilkinson's— The "snmdi»-e" — Punky !— Taroil— A cheerful ' 'g-ood night. "_."... 11 Chapter II. —My fir.st trout— Kaui and roads— Walk and talk— Things seen and unseen- Our cabin- Boats and neighbors— A busy camp— Supper— A snug fit— "The smudge! The smudge!" 26 Chapter III. —Morning in the forest— Camp scene— A trout breakfast — Trout - tishiug — Lemonade and ' 'sticks"— Sunset— Heart of the forest 40 Chapter IV.— Thompson goes a-tishing— Lunch and slumber— Rabbit-stew— "The fly"— Forest sounds- Benson "goes for" a deer— Buck fever— .>rimic bat- tles—Benson's story of the deer-hunt 52 Chapter V.- Sunday in the woods — Veneer— The moral "Isothermal"— Sunday rowing— Evening on the water ' 67 Chapter VI. —Jerking venison — Short supplies— Trap.s— Good night ! and fare well !— Out ! 72 THE ST. REGIS AND SARANACS Chapter VII.— On the way to Meachain Lake— Val- ley of the St. LaAvre.nce— Mountains— Wilderness romances —The Duancs — Darkness — Stumps and dumps — Fuller 's 79 Chapter VIII.— :\Ieacham Lake— Fuller's— Guides and guests— Programme— Fishing— "Last May"— Up the inlet— Naughty guides— An honest tale." 86 Chapter IX.— Down the outlet— Still- water— A flood- Yi CONTENTS. Page. ed camp— Up tlie rapids— A damp Editor— Chris, s ^okes— A shot at a deer— ' 'It's mighty queer' —Hunt 'ing a trail in the dark— A roof and a dry bed Jo Chapter X.— The Editor departs— "Vocal chords"— The schoolma'ams— Shaving the Sheriff 103 Chapteh XI.— a new departure— ISIcCollum's—Tele- o-raph poles— St. Regis Lake— Paul Smith's— Even- ino- at Paul's— Jolly guide— The old Professor- Trout from Osgood P^ond— Matters and thuigs at Paul's ^^'' Chapteh XII —An adventure— Saranac excursion— "Sangemo's" — A merry party — Upper Saranac Lake— Cox's— The sun-browned invalid— 1 ime rec- ord—Talk and tobacco — College boys— St Regis Mountain — Pictures — Return to Meacluim— 1 he vouno- Reverend— McCollum— Gas-light— Pavements -Out! .-----■- 1^^^ THE' BEAVER RIVER WATERS. Ch\ptkk XIII.— The Judge beckons— "(;all a jury" —Black River R. R.— Beach's Bridge— Fentons— -No 4 "—Beaver Lake and River— Off for Smith s Lake— Wardwell's—" When 1 git time"— A crooked river and a dizzy sun-The wicked fly— Camp at South Branch— JMan lost ! l-'^ Chapter XIV. - "Who-o-o '."-Snakes ami boots- Slumber— Rabbits— A mystery solved— The lost is found— A martyr— Albany Carry— Cookery— 1 he Editor overwhelmed— Trout— Smith s Lake— Syra- cuse Camp" ^"^ Ch \pter XV.— Morning — Cross-bills— Surroundings -Wandering trout— Slaughtered babies— Bait vs. fly —"Between hay and grass"— Up the m'et— ^a- tiiuo- 1"— John ' 'the talker"— Fishing record— Broken rod— Judicial triumph 14 Chapter XVI. -The Editor's revenge-When it mins —Breaking cainp-A stormy exit-Bad l)lood-Out- ^^^^ ward — Out BOONEVILLE TO SARATOGA. Chapter XVII. -Correspondence— "Engage Brincker- CONTENTS. Vll Page. hoof" — A promise kept — John — "Going in" — Our outfit — On the march — Arnokl's — "Old Forge" — College boys — Their stor}^ — Up the river — "Stickney Camp, of blessed memory" 159 Chapter XVIIT. — A morning call — John a "good pro- vider"— Baiting the buoys — Fishing — A broken rod and a sad heart — A Sunday on Bald .Mountain — What we saw — A bonanza — A palpable hit — Excur- sions to South Branch and North Branch 171 Chapter XIX. — INIigratory impulse and Ned's teasing — A delicate matter — Awaiting John's verdict — Farewell to camp — Eastward, Ho! — Onions — Heavy loads over the carry — Seventh Lake — A good camp site — The lad's cup full — Neighbors — Oif for Raquette Lake — A word for ' 'John Brown's Tract" . . 179 Chapter XX. — The carry of evil renown — The lost pipe — Brown's Tract Inlet — Raquette Lake — Our camp at "AVood's Place" — Rest for the weary 187 Chapter XXI. — South Inlet — The clerk— Hathorn's Camp — Forked Lake — Steam and smoke — Wind and waves — Bass-fishing by moonlight — Camp among the birches — Camp views — Old Alvah Dunning — "U. S. Mail!" — Camp robbed — The professional camp 192 Chapter XXII. — Storm at night — Loose tent-peg — "Muling it out" — Folded tent— To Blue Mountain Lake — Rivers and lakes — Holland's — Ned— John_-_ 201 Chapter XXIII. — Farewell to John — Up Blue ]\Ioun- tain, and sights from its top — Descent — Packing — Wakely — Outward b}^ buck-board — North river — Saratoga and a sleeping-car 207 THE OSWEGATCHIE WATERS. Chapter XXIV. — The conspirators — Off for Cran- berry Lake — The 'Squire lost — Clarksboro — Inm Works — Captain and Senator go a-fishing in a cockle- shell— Morning ride to the lake — Reach camp — What the dam does 215 Chapter XXV. — Captain's morning call — "Up and dressed" — Guides — Food problem — Brandy Brook — The Senator "yanks" — The Mayor's victory 223 Viii CONTENTS. Pagk. Chapter XXVI.— Grass river— The Reservoir— Joe Bolio— The Sheriff's joke— Flood wood— "No thor- oughfare" — "I've been here"— Rat-hole camp — Council — Return — Trout-pool — " In May ' — Jhe 'Squire and the "boss trout"— Grass River trip ended, ^^b Chapter XXVIL— Brandv Brook trout— Down the i-iver— Trouting on Basin Brook— The solitary fish- erman— Stimulating a virtue 238 Chapter XXVIIL— Deer hunt— Up the Oswegatchie ^ —Shot at a deer— Sights and sounds— Cage's spnng- hole— Mv "big trout"— Glorious sport— Landed !— "How large?" ^^^ Chapter XXIX.— Twilight on the river— "The hand- kerchief"—"Jacking"— A deer shot— Afloat m a gale— Driven ashore— Prospecting— The building of the camp— Night— Back to the home-camp ^o^ Chapter XXX.— The blue herons— Good shot-Junior shoots a deer— Breaking camp— Farewells— The true story of the "boss trout"— The 'Squire lost— About Cranberry Lake -^"^ Chapter XXXL— A didactic chapter— R. R. Lines around the Adirondacks— Entrances— General sug- gestions GRAYLING FISHING-NORTHERN MICHIGAN. Chapter XXXII.— Detroit to Grayling— Down the ^u Sable— Boats— Polers—" Sweepers — My hrst grayling— Camp— Second day— More graylmg— A good leap " ' Chapter XXXIIL— "What I know" about grayling and grayling streams— I. Graylmg streams —11. Habits of grayling, etc.-Mr. Wiley's record, six days.-.-. "^ Chapter XXXIV.— Across, east to west— Petoskcy— Boyne-Charlevoix— "Turner's favorite"-Up the Jor- (\an—AVebster's— Jeff., the w-ise poler— "June s the time"— Trout in the Jordan— Charlevoix— Lake Ex- cursion to Island of Mackinaw^— The Island— Mack- inaw to Detroit by steamer— Sunset— Talk— Storm- Over the gang-plank and homeward. JOCIvS LAKE. I r j]!AMPg AJMD Jl^AMPg IN THE ADIRONDACKS. CHAPTER I. "It's settled that you are to go!" said Benson as he removed his pipe from his lips, and blew a mighty gust of smoke, which dimmed the gas-light of his bachelor apartments like a fog. "Who settled all that, I beg to know ?" " Well, I've settled it. Here you are, as thin as a shad; you would be pale, only you're beginning to turn yellow, like the covers of your confounded law books; your blood liasn't the vitality of skimmed milk; as to eating, why! our landlady makes a silk dress off from your board every three months; and nothing will set you right like a good time in the North Woods. There, now ! That's enough to con- vince anj^ man what he ought to do; but since you haven't enough strength left to form a good resolution, I've made one for you." "Faithful are the wounds of a friend! even if he goes at 13 jock's LAIvE. ybu with a tomahawk," replied I; " hut you see, 1113' dear old boy, I can't take the medicine you prescribe, — the treat- ment is too heroic. If I am the dihipidated individual you picture me, with your rather free-hand stylic of (hawiiiii", ]\o\\' am 1 ever to cnduie the hardshii)s of a fortnii;lil in tiic Adirondacks?" "Yes, l»ul you see — " "Yes, I think I do see, indeed; first, the mosquitoes, then the thunder-storms, the Ions: hard tramps, the sleepiuii' out of doors on the ground — what j'ou call cam[)inu' out — and living on your indigestil)liN&fip jacks and salt pork — and not a drug store or a doctor within fifty miles! Do you think lam a fit subject for such barbarities?" — '1)ut 3'ou see, " said he, as soon as I gave him opportunity, ' 'you are not to be the miserable effigy of b man that you now are; you'll l)egiu to mend as soon as you begin to pack up yoiu- clothes and fishing tackle; a few miles of corduroy roads will fill you with n(!W desires, "^and he smiled furtively behind a fresh smoke cloud; — "the piu'e breath of the forest, the sturdy tramp, the free life, the — " "How about the mosquitoes? " — "the numberless allurements aud employments of camp life" — "Aud what do you say about the tremendous storms .you've told about?" " — the fascination of trout fishing, the — " "Do you deny that camping out will give a man rheu matism ?" " — the glories of mountain and lake and river '"— BENSON DISCOURSES OF TIIE WOODS. 13 '" Stop! stop! nw dear fellow, I suppose you mean by all this to tell me I'll eiijo)' the trip, and so I d«>ul>tl<-^s ^Imll if I go, and if I should survive all ilshardshi})-. "I mean to say," said Benson, earnestly, ''that to a man whose life is chiefly within four l)rick walls, and whose every breath takes up some part of the street and its tilth, whose daily work is such that his body and health are a daily sacritice to the necessities of sedentary life, — to such a man there is nothing in the whole range of remedial agents to make him so sound and strong and well and in so short a time, like the two or three weeks he can spare for a trii> in llie \voods. And I want you to go with me! I've set my heart on it. There's a good party of us and I'll take care that the hardsliips shan't InuM you. You'll have to tight your own mosquitoes. ;aul bear the pi'tly annoyances of camp life; ]>ul as for a man's dying in the woods of dyspepsia or biliousness for want of a drug .store or a doctor," — and he threw his head l)ack Avith an explosion of laughter — "that's the ver}' latest objection to the woods I ever heard! " I felt that I was answered, and uttered not a word in reply, except to .say. '• Well, so be it. — I'll go! '' Thus it came to pass that I, .somewhat below theavL-rage in health and strength at the time, and really needing the remedy my friend proposed, without any f(»rethought or planning of my own. was booked for nu' lir.st excursion to the Xorthern Wilderness of New York. When a boy. :i fowling piece and a I'od were my ciiief delight, and my c-hoieest recreations were in llic " wood lots" and along the streams of mv father's and adjoining farms; and a gun ■j^4 jock's lake. in 'my closet at college hadi. given me many a Saturday ramble over the hills. But I had almost forgotten all the experiences of my boyhood in that regard, and had wholly lost the enthusiasm of those sports, while I was entirely ignorant of the special delights of forest camp life. I therefore anticipated my vacation trip to the woods and the hunting and fishing with no special pleasure, content that it should give me fresh air and vigor. Many an evening during the interval between the con- versation already detailed and the anticipated day of our departure for the woods, Benson regaled me, in his bach- elor quarters, with tales of his adventures on former excur- sions, and instructed me in forest lore and wood-craft, as, with boyish delight, he drew forth his stores of fishing tackle, his gun and amunition, woodsman's attire and the manifold "little conveniences " an old camper accumulates. His tenderest touch and tones were when he opened his magical fly-book, and fondled the flies that he loved. They were his pets and had been his companions, by many a lake and stream, and associated in his mind with the pleasantest days of his life. Even a half emptied bottle of "tar-oil "evoked an expression of his delight, as he un- corked it and insisted that I should snuff its odors. " You don't like it?" said he in response to my shudder of disgust,-" but you'll see the day when its smell will be sweeter than roses." "l did not quite comprehend the remark or the facts it rested upon for its significance. I had but little care or labor for my own preparation, fishing tackle et cetera being thrust upon me by the old TIIE START. — ON TITE WAY. — tlTTCA. 15 woodsman, who. like all entliusiast.s of his kind, wasalrcad}^ over-supplied, and who bought every new thing useful, useless and ornamental tliat caught his fancy in the stores where fishermen are furnished. An old, worn-out woolen suit, designed in my benevolent moods for some poor but honest man of my dimensions, and a pair of strong boots, with tlie avails of a moderate check, were all I was obliged to think about for myself. It was somewliere among the midnight hours of July 19th that Benson gave the orders,— •* All ready! Shoulder pack! Forward, March! " There was nothing to be gained by demurring or pleading that the human spinal column was not adapted to the ponderous load I was directed to take up. So, wriggling into the straps of the pack-basket as best I could, in imitation of the ludicrous contortions of my captain, and seizing a handful of njds and various articles that refused to be packed, I followed him down the stairwa3's of our boarding liou.se; and we bravely wended our way through the silent streets to the ne;u--at-hand rail - road depot. Night watchmen looked warily and suspi- ciously at us, bvit the fish rod is ever a i>assport7— except on forbidden streams — and the tramp had not yet developed into a recognized constituent of the advanced civilized community. We escaped arrest and the confiscation of our luggage, and were soon on board our train and hurry- ing through the darkness to the Utica that refuses to be " ])ent up." Arriving at that point, we hastened to bed for t lie frac- tional night remaining, leaving orders with the slee])y 16 jock's LAICE. and taciturn hotel clerk to be aroused at all liazzards at the first indications of morning. The other memhers of our party had already arrived and were snugly ensconced for the night. It is surprising how early a July morning can dawn. The edge of the night crumbles away so noiselessly and permits" the first gray streaks to steal in so gently and unawares, that he whose custom is to hurriedly rise and prepare for an eight o'clock breakfast, is fain to believe that the break of day comes with the opening of his eye- lids. But if good fortune or necessity compels him to witness for himself the phenomenon of an emerging day, he learns to his dismay that a very long and beautiful part of that day has been accustomed to diffuse its glories over the earth long before he has shaken off the thraldom of death-like sleep. On this particular morning the sleepy clerk passed the word to a faithful porter who battered our doors until we were thoroughly aroused, although in our room it was yet quite dark. "Here! Now, what are you doing?" shouted Benson, as I sleepily and clumsily essayed to p\it on the clothing I had laid off on retiring. "That won't do,— out with the old clothes! We dress here for the woods, and white shirts and the toggery of the town go into a l)ag and stay here until we are back to the city again." I protested that we were yet among civilized people, and I should be greatly annoyed to be seen on the streets with the shabby attire I had deemed good enough for the woods. OLD CLOTHES. — WHO WE AVERE. 17 "Be kind euoiigli to look at your watch, my honest. civili/X'd frk'nd, and then make a note of it that in an liour we shall be out of this place for good;" and as he spoke, Benson tumbled his bundle of old ch)thes and l)oots out upon the tlcxn- and began his hunt for the gray wooUmi shirt he had brought for me. Looking at my watch I found it was not (piite lialf-past four o'clock, and even two hours later I knew no stray acciuaintance of mine would l>c Ukely to stroll down the street. 1 had ft)rgotteu how disheartening an abandoned suit of old, worn out, dusty, creased and shrunken clothes can be, until I surveyed myself and saw how wholly unpresentable I had become. M}'' personality seemed changed. I was not entirely certain that I was honest. I I didn't know but the next moment I should break out in profanity. As for the serene self-respect of an American citizen who had helped elect a member of Congress, I had next to none of it; for did I not bear all semblance to a moderately abased beggar? and did not my very appear- ance consign me to social ot)livi()n r and would any respe(;taJ)le church in the land permit me to sit in its pews? However, it was early in the morning, I was in tiie privacy which the early riser in the city enjoys, and I Avas wholly reassured by the nondescript appearance of the rest of the party to whom I was speedily presented. Besides, as a ps3'chological fact, I observed that my individuality gradually reasserted itself, and in an liour 1 was (piite as honest, as careful of my morals, and just as nuicli a gentleman, despite appearances, as if 1 had worn linen and Ig jock's lake. broadcloth and had not heen surmounted by a shockmg bad felt hat that sloped every way like a wigwam. . Calling the roll, there was Ed. Benson, an old woods- man, and myself, a, neophyte, from the same city; Loomis, the Professor, from a neighboring academy, a histy man of learning, a very Kit North for tish and frolic; Johnson, a hardware merchant from Washington, a good smoker and story-teller, who had won ren.)wn and ducats, sailing the seas, and now sought the forest for the first time ; and Thompson, our chief, of the Treasury Depart- ment at Washington, a bachelor who loved the woods better than most men love their children. Horace, one of oui' guides, was already in the office of the hotel, a little wiry fellow, silent, shy and tatterdemalion, but destined to blossom and unfold as we approached the familiar woods and streams, and to prove himself indeed "guide, philoso- pher and friend. " Two strong wagons were speedily loaded with ourselves and luggage,"and we drove ofP in the gray morning in high glee over the hills Northward. If tlie " Sage of Deerfiehl,'- in uneasy morning slumbers, fancied he heard " the rebel yell," so soon after destined to play the dickens with many a Joldier lad's dreams of home, doubtless it was the matutinal patriotism breaking out in song and shout of tliose wagon loads of early travellers in old clothes, as yet unfed and therefore unmindful of tlie strict code of decor- ousness and gentlemanly quietude. But he would have forgiven us,-for he too is a loyal lover of the woods and streams. BREAKFAST. — PIPES. — COFFEE POTS. — AKT. 10 A few miles out of town, at the foot of a Iiill anioiio; tiie trees, in a wild sequestered spot we stopped at a little rustic inu, and breakfasted. The ham and eggs and piles of white bread and bowls of ereamj'-hued coffee disappeared amid the crackle of wit and boisterous laughter and jest, like prairie grass before the leaping flame. There was immense faith, not misplaced, that gentlemaiil}' and civil- ized dyspepsia had been slain and left l)ehin(l and that its avenging ghost had lost oiu- trail. The fun had actually begun, and not tlie least element of it was the reckless and childlike way in whi(;h we ate and drank what and when and as much as the appetite moved and the oppoi-tvmit}" (not always complaisant) ixTmittcd. Lighting pipes and cigars, each according to his fancy, we resinned our journey over sandy I'oads, up lull and down, next stopping at Prospect, a town on the Utica and Black River Rail-Road. The wise, care-taking men of our partj^ went about making purchases, of which a frying- pan and coffee-pot were not the least important. Indeed, on these two fundamental facts of camp life liang all the joy or sorrow of the culinar}' (lc|)artm(mt of tent and cal)in. A dozen big, blood thirsty hunting knives with spick-and-span new leather belts, the latest imi)rovements in air pillows, the most complicated cork-screw-lanc-et nut- pick-gimlel-and-cai"pcnter sho|) jack knife, in the possession of a party, nay, even a inirror and ra/.oi\ will not bring happiness to that luckless camp whei-e the frying-pan is not, or where the snub-nosed, l)lackened colfee-pot sings not its morning, noon and evening hymn of comfort and cheer. OO .TOCK's TiAKP:. Straying- into the one liiunhle hotel of the t* .n >. :. 1 tion had l^een gifen to man. how can I say'?) sounds that refused to be classified, (such were the possibilities of the instrument, to say naught of the player.)— all to the great delectation of several village lads and one of our tlrivers who asserted that ''he could sit all day and listen to that music' -—a statement I should have implicitly l»flievetl had he added— if my pay grn^s on all the Siime." Loomis also, dear kind soul: who had listened through a crack of the door, thereafter seemed to regard me as untit for treason, stratagems and spoils, and had a tender, warm place for me in hi- heart. ^- AU aboard: ■ shoufed the chief, and we were speedily on our way. TVe drove on to Ohio— a mere bit of a town made up principally of its ambitious name and a post office, the last we were to see for a fortnight. The horses were fed. while we waited an imconscionably long time for •George.- our other guide, who had to be sent for in the neighborhood. Our attention was engaged by a very novel cemetery with unique epitaphs.— a little country church which we respectfully" explored.— diagnosing the meteoro- logical conditions from certain ominous clouds assembling for a carnival in the west.— letter writing at the one little country store.— sleeping on the "stoop" amid difficulties contrived and executed by the wakeful members of the party.— various feats of strength and agility.— and several quarts of milk which we drank and called dinner. George having appeared, we proceeded on our way to Wilkinson's, well in the woods, the "last house " of civil- ization, thirty-six miles from Utica. arriving at 7 o'clock. 9^ jock's T-ATCK. twelve Hours after breakfast. Here we stopped for the nicht and to be^u our serious work. The Utile Unv. frame- ho'use, a sort of exaggerated bird's nest, browned by age and weather, looked picturesque at that hour. It was situated on a gentle bluil' in the midst of a small elcarmg hewn out of the forest right on the banks of West Canada Creek which there assumes (piite the proportions of a river. The tawnv-brown water courses dcwn through the gorge of the m.nmtains on either side, phmging, roaring and foamino- amon- the large boulders which line its banks and are .caUered thickly along the bed of the stream, and passes off to the south-east on its way to the Mohawk. Unbroken forests crown the rocky hearted mountains and press down to the water's edge. Tlie darkening, evening-hued sky mincded with the forest green, and the rushing waters sounded their evening anthem amid the stillness of the secluded place. But what, in the midst of this grandeur and beauty, at this poetical hour, meant that smoke on the grassy plot in front of the house, where the eight or ten Wilkinsons, great and small, from the aged grandfather down to the dirty, toddling baby, were assembled^ I ventured to ask Benson a. mucli. -'That? why, that's a smadg<^-\he greatest mstitution of the woods!" And he gave me a pitying look for my ignorance, and laughed much more heartily than I thought the subject demanded. We gladly leaped to the ground from the seats which we had f dthf uUy held down for thirty-six miles, over the last nine of which the road was hilly and rocky. The warm. THE SMUDGE. — PU>-KY: 23 murky air environed ils, languor subdued us, and we were content to throw ourselves down ujxjn the grass. Forth- with a haz}' cloud gathered around my head, I e-\i>erienced burning .sensations on my hands, wrlst.s, face and neck. My ears seemed aflame. Was I sick? Had "prickly heat " attacked me? Did I need a doctor? I endeavore^l to scjlve the mystery of the haze. I looked earne.-^tlyat my hands, and discovered winged atoms of noLseless flight, countless in numlKT'^; — dull sparks with wings, that settled quietly down upon me by the hundred and then hnnud. I had not ]>een told of the phenomenon, and it was a reve- lation. Burn! burn! burn! How they burned! I was almo.^^t frantic. I appealed to Ben.sh into that smudge, and the punkies will leave you fast enough." So I rushed. The tierce little gnats left me. The low smouldering lire in the kettle s(^>nt up chnuls of half fragrant and pungent smoke, which seemed for an instant as lu.\u- 24 jock's lake. rious as the first l)almy breath of spring. But the next moment I was nearly suffocated and strangling. I rushed out. The punkies returned in stinging clouds, searching every nook and crevice and seam in my clothing and swarming about my head. Back to the snuidge I went - then out -then in, -the horrors alternating. At length, utterly overcome in the contest, I murmured to my friend, as he slapped and rubbed himself and shared the smudge with me, "Benson, I've come a great ways to be very miserable! Must a man up here murder himself to save his life?" ■ The humor had pretty nearly gone out of him, but he showed his white teeth in an effort at a laugh, and replied, -There's one hope left,-tar-oil! Let's go for it." And away he went to the pile of luggage nearby and hunted up a big black bottle. From this he poured out into his hand a brownish, greasy liquid and rubbed it vigorously over his face and hands, on his neck and well up into the roots of his hair, doing which he gave forth odors which in town would have l)roughtdown upon him the censures of the board of health as a nuisance. "Try it! " said he. "Can't,— it smells so infernally. " - Y(m-ll like it, when you get used lo it. Children cry Cor it, up here. " The stings were driving me mad. I seized the big bottle, and followed his example. Two sighs escaped me,-one at the sickening smell,-one of great relief as the cloud of winged sparks fell back from me in disgust, and I stood A CHEEEFUL "OOOD NTOHT. " 25 once more a free man, but as greasy and hnnvnas an Italian bego-ar. The battle was ended. I learned afterwards to tolerate tar oil, then to like its odor, and noAV 1 ahvayskee)) a bottle of it among my tishing traps at home, nneorkiiii;- il now and tlien, when the snows are heavy on the earth, to remind me of tlie summer (•ami)-fire in the wilderness! There is no disputing eihieated tastes! Seven of us slej)! that night in the h.l't, in lealher beds, the rain pouring doMn upon the root Jusi above our heads. Wilkinson, as he took the household candle down stairs, bestowed his cheerful good-night,— " Boys, if the punkies get very bad, ' fore morning, call me and I '11 bring up a smudge! " But we slept. , CHAPTER II. The rain came down in torrents all night, to the very hest of it. miasnmmer ability under the specially 1-avoring influ- ences of a forest and mountain region. Boisterous West Canada Creek was swollen to a mad river. We sat and conversed under the wood shed, all the forenoon; and whde the rain still poured we smoked our pipes, told fishing and hunting stories, whittled, and took our turns around the smudge kettle. At noon the rain dwindled to a drizzle, and I, the neophyte of the party, horn and reared in a land of minnows, hull- heads dace and. suckers, went up a little stream nearby, •uKl with an extemporized rod and baited hook caught m> first brook-trout! It flashed upon my recollection, (or might appropriately have done so) at the instant of my hvst ''strike " that there were several quick things,-lightnmg. for instance,-the kick of an ugly cow at a milk pad,-the descending blow of a school-teacher's ferule upon the iuvenile palm,-the young skater's first somersault, -the bashful boy's blush when the pretty girl of the school smiles on him, and all that sort of thing,-but this trout was a little ahead of them all. In an instant I had him fast upon the barbed hook. The little spirit of activity at the end of the line fairly efl'ervesced ; the small pool boiled like a teapot, for there was a tempest in it of one frightened, crazy MY FIR8T TROtTT! RAIN AND ROADS. 27 trout. Three times came the flash, the thrill and the exult- ation, and three little trout I proudly bore to my companions under the wood-shed; and lightly did I heed the laughter and derisive comments which my tingerlings excited,— for, in the flush of my new experience I was in a state to see visions and dream dreams. In many an experience since that hour, by f(M-est stream and pool. I have seen the full vision and realized the dream, then infantile and wingless, but never again did the felicity quite repeat itself of catch- ing myfr.ot trout. We had designed.— that is, the C^aptain had designed for us,— to go up West Canada Creek lo 'VStillwater," fifteen or twenty miles further, the entire distance to be travelled on foot with packs on our backs, through a trackless forest. The heavy rain had made the travelling exceedingly diffi- cult, and raised and roiled the water sufiiciently to destroy all hope of taking fish in the streams for days to come. The council of war around the snuidge decided to change the plan of the campaign, and advance, with Wilkinson's baggage and supply ti-ain of one wagon, to Jock's Lake ( Transparent Lake, on the maps ), nine and a quarter miles distant and northerly. A town road had been cut out, years before, under the delu- sion that at some time or other this region would be occupied l)y settlers and the forest tamed. But natiu-e never designed the mountains and rocks and scanty soil for farms. She bolted and barred and locked up these sacred precincts against the plow and reaper,— and threw away the key. The forest of the Adirondacks blesses its worshipers who come with og jock's lake. . reverent love to its wooded shrines and placid lakes and chano-eful streams, alid sends them forth again rich m the goodVftsit holds in store 'for the forest-loving in heart. But a Wastino' curse has rested upon every profane attempt to hew down the temples and erect in their stead the granary The law-not of New York but of N ature-has set apart this wilderness irrevocably to purposes which find little recognition in the marts of trade and the necessities of a teeming population struggling for subsistence. So that this road had, by disuse, pretty much grown over again, and was now little better, they told us, than -acorn- fortable squirrel track." We found afterwards that the squirrel who had travelled that track must have possessed a very sound constitution. Afte'r a dinner of bread and milk we set forth,-we five and our two guides walking in light-weight costume, and Wilkinson bringing up the rear with his wagon and two cat- like horses. They had nobly spent their lives in trying to civilize this region and in doing so had learned to clamber over l)Oulders like a goat and to climb a sharp acclivity like a hod-carrier up a ladder. I didn't observe that they had claws, but how they otherwise could so well climb and descend and cling, I could not well conceive. The unedu- cated horse would have been utterly helpless in their place. -Is n't this glorious, boys!" said Thompson, as we left the little clearing and, after walking a little way up the river bank along a cow-path, plunged into the forest. -Glorious! " responded a chorus of four voices. -That very wet rain has at least cleared the air, and WALK AND TALK. 29 made these woods smell as fresh and sweet as a l)aby," chimed in Johnson, Avhose thoughts doubtless took a back- ward leap, at the moment, to a certain home circle in Washington. "And as bright as a maiden's eye", sang out l)achielor Benson, with a broad grin. "Oh! oh! — Why can't you fellows just enjoy this thing in a good, old-fashioned way, without any such far-fetched comparisons, and cheap sentiment! — I saj^ fellows," — and Thompson's incipient wrath oozed aAvay perceptibly, — " I say, what tremendous great trees these are! The little chaps have a hard time of it down under these big maples and hemlocks and spruces." ' ' That broad-spreading beech tree would have delighted Virgil himself, and these. I believe, are the veritable aisles of the dim woods, that Hemans sang," added the Professor. "The woods are dim enough, to be sure," broke in Thompson, "but they'll be dimmer before we get to camp if you fellows stop to stare at every big tree you see." So on we trudged with joke or shout or in silence, as the mood took us and the path permitted. Our way was a simple track through a dense wilderness, over mountains, down steep declivities, clambering over monstrous bould- ers, through slough-holes, and crossing swollen streams on fallen trees, — a bridge sometimes hard to find and always dithcult to cross. The few small l)irds that inhabit the wilderness fiitted about in the shades; a great gray owl right over our heads, disturl.)ed in his dreams,' lifted himself from his lofty 30 jock's lake. percli and winged his silent Avay into recesses of the forest where human foot never trod; the nervous little chipmunk watched the singular invaders of his domain, chippered, and plunged into his hole; a partridge or two whirred and darted olf out of sight, almost too swift for the vision to follow; and an occasional rahl)it hopped nimbly out of the path and disappeared in the bushes. This was about all the life of the woods that was revealed to our eyes. But there were tracks in the soft earth l)y the streams where the timid deer had stealthily crept and fed; scratchings on tree-trunks Avhere bruin had stood up and, cat-like, dug his claws into the wood and stretched himself ; and we knew that the helmeted sentinels around us, if they could but speak our language, would tell us of the lithe panther, the prowling and sneaking wolf, and of tragedies among hungry beasts quite as entertaining as histories of man's inhumanity to man. Wilkinson was compelled to chop out several trees that had fallen across the path, which delayed him somewhat, but the delay was not ungrateful to us. Indeed, as often as the interesting proceeding had to be repeated, we sat down on a convenient and adjacent log with great patience, and superintended the work as wisely as if we were born Avood-chdppers. Nobody complained of fatigue. • If one fell behind, he was examining the geological speci- mens which the rocks afforded. If he sat down, without a general order to halt, his shoe needed tieing. If one stag- gered and stumbled, it was only " a confounded root " ; pale or Hushed,— he was "a little thirsty, you see." No body THINGS SEEN AND UNSEEN. — OUR CABIN, 31 was tired, although we trudged and climbed and plunged and floundered and trudged again, — on a bread and milk dinner — for five hours, when at last a gleam of water appeared through the trees, and behold, Jock's Lake ! How often since have I caught that silver gleam of water through the trees, when tramping through the forest ! At first there is a little light through the density of the foliage, and on a nearer approach, the glimmer of water; — no shores appearing, — just simplj^ beautiful, clear water shining through the green leaves and the branches. If the sun is bright, the effect is as delightful as au}^ thiug seen in the woods. AVe emerged from the forest into an opening sloping- down to the shore, of perhaps a half acre in extent, where the trees had all been cut away, years before, and tlie native grass had obtained root-hold and made a very prettj^ welcome as we threw ourselves down upon the turf bed, thoroughly tired. A small bark-roofed log hut, built for parties like our own, stood in the center of the clearing, well awaj^ from an}^ large trees that in a high wind might take a fancy to fall in our direction. Its dimensions were very modest, the entire structure being but about fourteen feet long and ten or eleven wide, and only high enough near the sides for a tall man to stand upi'ight. One end was devoted to the purposes of a bed room, its limits being designated b}^ a small log running across the cabin, a man's length from the end opposite the door; while the remainder was kitchen, store-room, dining-room and parlor. The bed (soon con- 32 jock's lake, structed) was in tlie true, primitive style of a camper's couch, — hemlock boughs on the ground, "shingled" so that the butts of tlie boughs were covered by the feathery leaves. These, laid properly and to the depth of four or five inches, constituted a bed which onl}' needed its cover ing of blankets or rubber cloth to be comi)lete, alwaj^s "ready made" and quite as welcome after a long day's tramp as the luxurious couch of easy days wiien sleep comes reluctantly and only lightly touches the ej'elids. "Well, gentlemen." said Thompson, as he drew himself up from a recumbent to a sitting posture, after a brief rest, "I beg leave to suggest to you the eminent propriety of beginning life here on the old-fashioned plan." ' ' What's that?" struck up three or four voices, with varied degrees of vigor, as the indolent fellows, flat on their backs, kicked their heels into the turf. "Let's have the plan, Thompson, — no matter what's the fashion," said Benson, as he lazily rolled over towards the first speaker. "The plan ! the plan! Give us the plan!" came out in chorus. "Why, eating, of course! — I suppose there isn't anything much more old-fashioned than that, except breathing, and that couldn't have had much the start. As for me, I've got my breath all right again, after that rather long walk; and, following the logical order and the natural inclination, after all this exercise, I propose next to eat. — I say, Wilkin- son, where are your boats? Some of these crazy fishermen who have been talking trout all the way from Utica, want BOATS AND NETGnEOES. 38 to now just get out tlieir tackle and try their hands at catching a supper for this party, — and a good one, too;" and by this time Thompson had lifted himself heavily to his feet. ''I'm not selfish, — these chaps may have the fun of taking the first trout." Wilkinson, like a merciful man, had seen to it, first of all, that his beasts were imharnessed and hitched to the liind wheels of his wagon and fed in the wagon box with a bundle of ha}" and a suppl}^ of oats lirought with him from his burn: and he now approached. " Them boats, boj^s, are hid up in the woods. You ain't never sure of finding a handj' thing like a boat, up here, when you want it, if you don't put it out of sight. Folks don't exactl}" mean to steal, but they'll use 'em and don't alwaj^s leave 'em just where the}" got 'em. Mj neighbors " — "Neighbors! — where on earth do your neighbors come from,- Wilkinson V '" "Why, they're all around — that is, — I mean they're all one side of me, that's a fact! — and the nighest of 'em is well on to seven miles from me; — and he ain't much of a neigh- bor, to be sure, for he lives all alone, and he's one of your darn mean, half-squatter, half-trapper and whole-lazy fel- lows that ain't one thing nor another. Then beyend him, three miles further on, there's some more, and they're likely folks, too, — got families and work for a livin'. I tell )"ou a man's got to work some for a livin' and help somebody else to live, — a wife and a chick or two, ma3"-be half a dozen of 'em, of his own, — to be a first-class neighbor, up here. And my impression is — it majn't be worth much — that a 34 jock's lake. man that don't work any and don't try to make livin' a little easier for somebody else, runs a mighty big chance of not makin' much of a neighbor of himself anywhere." "But I don't see, Mr. Wilkinson," interrupted the Pro- fessor, who seemed amusedly interested in the disquisition of the backwoodsman,— "I don't quite see that you have fairly established your original proposition that .you have neighbors, when the nearest person is "seven miles away and no neighbor at all in any proper sense of the term." '• Oh, very well," replied he, doubtless stumbled by the assumed gravity of the Professor. "You mean by neigh- bor the man in the next yard, I suppose, that knows what you had for breakfast in the moruin', and who you brought home to dinner with you, and hears your wife when she spanks the baby, and — " "Never mind him," said Benson, "he's a pedagogue, and takes everything like the multiplication table. He don't realize how the imagination of a genuine backwoods- nian sweeps around for twenty miles and takes in all the people of a circuit as his neighbors. " "But the boats, Wilkinson, where are they hid? I'm as empty as a last year's chippiug-bird's nest, and I must have some supper! "—and Thompson emphasized his remark by patting his stomach, in a patronizing way, with his open palms. " You can't find 'em— they're over beyend the spring, up the hill a little ways, behind a log and covered up with leaves. I'll go and show you, and help you get 'em down A BUSY CAMP. 35 to the lake; " and as he led the way two or three of us fol- lowed. The boats were drawn from their hiding place down to the water and launched, and found to be in good condition and reasonably tight after their rest in the woods. Benson and the Professor, the ardent fishermen of our company, already equipped, stepped aboard, shoved from shore, and proceeded to a point indicated by Wilkinson as likely to respond to their skill. iMeanwhile, our camp was assuming a busy appearance. The luggage had been unladen from the wagon; an open tire, out of doors, had been built for cooking purposes; and the smouldering fire of chips and leaves, making the inevi- table smudge, had been duly inaugurated — destined to be our pillar of cloud by day and of tire by night. Horace, the silent, had found a modest and civil tongue, and with nimble fingers was dissecting the baggage and j^reparing for our snnple forest housekeeping, bestowing the supplies in the cabin, and shaking out the blankets, and in fact, doing almost everything, while at the same time watching the colfee pot hung over the fire. George, the liig, strong, noisy, good-natured fellow, could swing an oar like a walk- ing beam all day, and compel the proudest forest king to cast his crown to the ciU'th after a few moments of his vig- orous assaults with the axe; but about camp he was pretty nearly good for nothing. Horace, on this occasion, sent him into the nearest timber to chop wood for 'the night, and this he did so faithfully, 36 jock's lake. that in a short time he had a large pile of heavy sticks ready for the all-night tire. " Here we are— and here's supper tit for a king!" sang out Benson, as that worthy approached, holding up a string of trout. The ponderous Professor, following hard after, added— "and, gentlemen, if there's to be a division of labor in this camp, please allot to me the task of providing brain food for this company, as found embodied in the speckled trout of Jock's Lake." It was almost no time before the trout, with a little fat pork, were in the frying pan; and Horace watched them as they hissed and sizzled and curled, and turned them at the opportune moment, and at length pronounced them done. " And I must confess, well done, thou good and faithful cookl" said Thompson, who seized a little trout by the tail and swung it deftly to his mouth and closed his teeth upon the delicious morsel. "I enter a protest," exclaimed the lawyer of the party. " against any unequal distribution of the assets of tbis firm ; —share and share alike is a part of the original contract 1 )etween us. Besides, a clerk in the United States Treasury ought to have learned to treat the public property that comes within his reach a little more sacredly." 'Tf you were on ship-board, Thomp.," said the sailor- merchant, "you'd be rolled on a barrel for that trick." "It strikes me, gentlemen," retorted Thompson, "that by your common consent I am your Captain. Therefore, I make the laws. I here and now"— and he munched his SUPPEl?.— A SNUG PIT. 87 trout with a liunoiy man's vigor— "ordain and establish— is that good law phrase, Mr. Indignant Lawyer?— that while we are in camp, and there's plenty to eat, every man shall eat when he's hungry and drink when he's dry, and to his fullest capacity— so far as is consistent with the safety of his l)uttons, which every man must sew on for himself." "Agreed! agreed!" on all hands; and the speck of war vanished as Horace announced supper ready at the rude tahle in and along one side of the hut. In due time tlie hearty meal was finished, and twilight deepened into darkness. We gathered before the fire, or clung affectionately around the smudge, lighted our pipes, and chatted and told stories until the early bed-time hour. Then eight tired men laid themselves down, side by side, across one end of the single apartment, upon the bed of fragrant boughs. "It's a snug fit, boys!" said the bulky Pi-ofessor, ''and if dignity is to have any privileges, in this party, I should like an inch or two more room." " We're all on a common level, here, "responded the Cap- tain, "—just now, at any rate; but if you talk of privileges, I'm the official personage that wants 'em." "I say, Benson," whispered the Neophyte, "how the dickens do you fix your boots to make a comfortable pil- low? Aline don't fit my head; the heel of one of them seems to be sticking into my bump of philoprogenitiveness." "Well, you are a new camper, I should say!" said Benson, as he examined the rude head rest; "you've got 33 jock's lake. • the coat in the wfong place— under your boots, instead of on top. There, now! " as he folded the coat and arranged it, "your hoots are meant for foundation and your coat for superstructure. To-morrow I'll get out the flour sacks, down in the depths of my pack basket, somewhere, and fix you up the jolliest pillow you ever slept on, -hemlock and spruce twigs,-that'll make you dream of Araby^and spicy breezes, and all that." '•Horace!" shouted the captain, "now shy your hat at the candle over there on the cracker 1)0X, and put out the light! It's high time this party was asleep. The sun gets up here about as soon as the early bird that has always been held up to me as an example." "All right! Shy aw^ay, Horace! I'm fixed"— "and I" —"and I"— "and I." The old hat performed its mission, and eight men all facing one way, closed their eyes and importuned balmy sleep. • Instead, came the soft sing-sing of the hominivorous mos- q^iito— with sense so keen that in the midnight-hour of the darkest night he goes straight to the best feeding ground on the nose of his victim;— as a honey laden bee flies homeward to his. nest in the hollow tree;— as the bolt from a Remington or Sharp's rifle cleaves the air for a thousand yards and strikes the bulls-eye;— as a creditor unerringly follows, with his little bill, the young man of vain hope who neatly turns a corner, dodges into a clul)-room, hurries to catch a street car, and when caught at last wipes dust from his eyes as if a great and recent family bereave- "the smudge! the smfdge!" 39 meut had overtakeu liim and weighed him down with grief which should not be disturbed by sordid cares — and duns. So came the mosquito, — the eams down upon the sparkling waters. The forests in their morning fresh- ness wore a tenderer green. The sweet morning air was fragrant with balsam and spruce and mossy earth. The cross-bills flitted in startled and darting flight from our cabin roof, to the neighboring trees, and back again, utter- ing their quick, sharp notes, in search of the crumbs from our table. Nature's own morning hour, unvexed by the smoke and dust and busy rumble and roar of civilized life, had come to the wilderness. ' ' How do you like it V" said Benson, after quietly watch- ing me a few moments as I gazed in evident, keen enjoy- ment of the scene. "'Beautiful' isn't any word for it,— MORNING IN THE FOREST. 41 is it? There's a good deal more than that word conveys in such a morning- and such a scene as this. Oh, I remember"— and the eyes of my good friend, who usually concealed the really earnest and noble side of his nature under a veil of humor, were dreamy and his voice low and musical as he spoke, "—I remember the first summer morning I saw in tlie wilderness, a dozen years ago. It.came like a revelation of what— yes,— of what heaven might be, if it should be l^rought down to the earth." I suppose every man has a little poetry hid away in him, somewhere. That morning was the key that unlocked mine. The forest seemed a vast temple,-the worshipers all reverently silent; and the sun for the lirst time, as it slowly rose and seemed to gaze be- nignantly on lake and forest, became Father of the day and not its King. -Ah, my boy," after a moment's silence, "that seems a good while ago, though, and I've had some hard knocks in the world's rough and tumble since then,- but this sunrise sends me all the way back, over the years, to just such a scene as this and to just such a delight as you now experience in seeing a forest sun rise for the first time." "Well!" called out the Captain, who was^ already busy about camp, /^^.S6^^V^^, as Johnson styled -his work,— "Well! if it takes you fellows much longer to determine whether that's the break-o':lay or not, you won't very soon have break-o'fast!" at which desperate attempt at a joke nobody smiled but himself. "We've got to have some trout for breakfast, "continued he, "and I shall order out another detail, if Benson and the Professor don't proceed at once." 42 jock's lake. ^ I accompanied tlie fishermen to the lake shore, towel in hand, to make my morning toilet. After speedily accom- plishing this, I half sat and half reclined on a rock, and watched them as they rowed out to the fishing-grounds, - their voices and the dipping of the oars gradually growing less and less distinct as the boat noiselessly glided away. Behind me, at the camp, busy preparations were being made, as I could see. . The smoke rose from the fire, thin and pale, in the bright sunlight; Horace was moving .hither and thither with spoon and dish and pail, while George was seated on a log humbly peeling potatoes —that being the least skilled labor of the forest kitchen; Thomp- son had a thousand little things to do, but at this moment was suspending a pocket mirror by a nail driven into a log of the cabin, out of doors; Johnson was examining and cleaning his rifle; Wilkinson was feeding and watering his horses and preparing for his return homeward after break- fast;—while the circling forest looked silently on. The whole scene was so new and strange to me that I forgot that I was a member of this body politic and had the duties of a citizen to perform with the rest. However, as I was the youngest, and the Neophyte at that, and was not counted as knowing the things "worth knowing" in the woods, my inactivity attracted no attention. It was my fortune, indeed, to be treated throughout the trip as a guest and admitted to all the good things and spared all but the ine V itable labors. Thanks to the dear old boys ! The fishermen soon returned with all the trout required for the morning meal, and shortly after we were seated CAMP SCENE. — A TROUT BREAKEAST. 43 at our humble table on the long stout pole which was sup- ported by crotches. Even the Professor was not heavj^ enough to break that down, although he had a distracting way of smashing nearly every thing he sat upon. "Now, boys! I call this a model breakfast," said Thompson, after five minutes of steady eating that forbade speech; " — even if I did supervise its construction." " You don't mean to claim the credit of this, — do you, Thomp. ? " half indignantly queried Johnson. "Horace is the pilot that brought this breakfast safe to harbor, — you were nothing but a land-lubber passenger." "Gentlemen," said the Professor, "Horatius is the genius to whom we are indebted for this concatenation of delicious edibles. It was he who, by the wave of his spoon, evoked cosmos from chaos. — who " — after a mouth- ful, he went on — ' ' who transmuted things to be weighed and measured and put into bags and bundles and boxes by the grocer "—another mouthful — " into " — "You'd better beach your craft," broke in Johnson, ' ' for I take it you've got into deep and troubled water and are overloaded with your ' concatenation ' and your 'cosmos' and 'transmuted.' Horace can't stand it to have you abuse him in this way. I think, mj^self, there were never such trout as these, nor boiled potatoes whiter and mealier, nor flap-jacks so big and light, nor maple syrup richer, nor coffee that w^ent straighter to the spot, — but I don't quite like to have you llig in your ' cosmos ' and 'chaos' here." "Oh, let him go on," said Benson; — "he's compara- 44 jock's lake. tively harmless, so far. The last trip I made with him he was full of ' nectar ' and ' ambrosia ' and the ' feasts of the gods.' We're luckj' if we o-et off with 'cosmos' this time." But despite the talk and banter the eating went on, until the hearty breakfast was ended, and Horace ceased from his lal)ors at the frjing-pan, and George, the waijter, gladl}' heard fi'om one and another, " No more! " After breakfast Wilkinson returned home with his horses, but leaving his wagon until he should come for us; and as he disappeared in the forest, the Neophyte, experiencing for a moment a sensation of hojne-longing, thought: '' So the curtain drops between us and the outer world, to be raised some days hence, revealing — no one knows what!" He never felt preciscl}" that waj' again, but never failed, in similar circumstances, to feel for an instant a certain sense of loneliness and heli>lessness. Now began, in earnest, the real life that we had come to enjoy, — life in a primitive fashion, far from the cares and distractions as well as the luxuries of civilization, cut off from all men but our own chosen company; the life of the savage, with all the bad elements left out, .unconstrained but not lawless, jovial and free but self -respectful, natural but certainly not barbarous; a too short period of alternate work and rest, of sport in lishing, rowing, shooting, swimming and in doing a thousand little things, important on such occasions to be (Tone, but difficult to report, and perhaps of interest only to the actoi's themselves. "Wilkinson is a good enough fellow," said Benson, TKOUT-FrSIITNC4. 45 "but I never feel quite as if I was in the woods, for good, and my camp life had actually begun, until I and my party are left alone. — Well, now boys! who's going a-lish- ingV Don't all speak at once, for it's one of the cardinal virtues, in the woods, not to catch any more trout than can be used. Lot's of sport and no waste." "Not I, to-day, "said Thompson; "this camp isn't quite in shipshape yet, and I propose to get it into lirst-rate living- order before I try the fishing. But, mind! when I do start in, you fellows might as well unjoint your rods, — 1 shall put you all to everlasting shame and confusion!" "Oh, the modesty of the man!" exclaimed the Profes- sor; Benson adding, aside, — ^"but he isn't so ver}^ wide of the mark, though. That's always his way in camp,— -fussing, and fussing, fixing up all the little coinn'niences, until everything is in apple-pie order, and then he starts into the fishing with a will." It resulted in our all going out upon the lake but Thomp son. At the proper point, our two boats were brought to anchor and we began fishing with bait, and very sucess- fidly. The trout averaged about half a pound, few of them weighing over three-fourths of a pound. Jufst as is always likely to happen in bait-fishing, I, the least experi- enced fisherman of the four, took the largest trout caught that day. I was happy enough, even with l)ait-iishitig, at the time, for I knew of nothing better; and, for the sake of that memory, 1 do not care to speak disparagingl}' of the humble angle-worm as a lure. But I must add that^ when afterwards I learned with moderate skill to wield the 2 46 .rOCK S TiAKE. fly-rod, and in a fair fight captured my first trout witli Iho fly, a little blush of shame mantled my cheek at the recol- lection that I was so happy on that first morning at Jock's Lake. I can imagine man}^ compensations that will come with old age, — if, indeed, it shall come, — for the losses of enjoyment that befall impaired physical faculties; Init what shall come in the place of camp and tramp in tlie Adiron- dacks, and the glorious joy of casting the fly over the pools and in the rapids of forest streams, and the leap and dash and play of the gamy and beautiful trout! — This, however, is not what I was thinkiug of, as I sat in the boat that morning and drew in trout after trout, as handsome and as gamy as any I have since seen. "Hi! Hi! tliat never will do," exclaimed Benson, as I was al)out to lift to m}' lips a cup of water dipped from the pure, spring-fed lake; "j^ou'll be sure to be sick if you drink that. Here, — pour a little of this 'enlivener' into it," bringing out from his pocket a flask of brandy. "I never drink, you know." "No matter — I don't drink, myself, except in the woods, —but you must take a drop here, or we'll have an incon- veniently sick man on our hands." The last argument was conclusive, and I poured some of the contents of his flask into the cup of water, and drank. AVe continued fishing, but I speedily lost interest in tlie sport. In fact, by the time we reached camp, again, I was pale and weak and sick. The delicate stomach I had brought with me into the woods had rebelled at the unac- LEMONADE AND "STICKS." 47 customed stimulant, and gave me fair warning not to repeat the affront. And I venture to record, right here, that I have since, in various forest excursions, tramped and camped and slept, become wet and cold, hungry and tired almost to despera- tion, and drank water from all sorts of rivers and lakes, — and my whole stock of liipiors on a trip of two or three weeks could be comfortably carried in my vest-pocket; and that the only time I was ever sick in the woods was that morn- ing when I took lake water " mollified" by Benson's brandy. It is always eas}^ enough, after breakfast, to fill the coffee-pot again, or, better, make tea, with which to quench thirst, if no spring can be found. But it is desirable to have a flask of liquor along, — brandy or whisky, — for emergencies, as medicine. I fear, however, they are not always hygienic considerations that govern the commissary as he includes in his supplies bottled ale, and sundry black bottles of stronger stuff. Possibly, one ought to have a little regard for the welfare of the guides of the wilderness, ^irave, faithful, hearty and generous in the main, but some of whom, through the exainple and well-meant importunities of the parties they accompany, become intemperate and in the end worthless characters. Many of them, however, taking warning from the fate of others of their class, use liquors very sparingly, generally after their hardest work is done, and prefer a cup of tea, hot or cold, to any other stimulant. Our party, good fellows, temperate and free from all bad 48 JOCKS LAKE. habits, yet believed in the old-fashioned idea that a thor- ou2:hly good time in the woods and entire safety from a " change of Avater " involve a little whisky, together with lemons and sugar. "Here, now, — that will fix you up all right," said Thompson to me, when we reached camp, directing my attention to a cup on the rude table. "I've cqncocted a punch in that pail that will make you fishermen happy again. I knew you would all come in heated and thirsty, — and perhaps cross if yoiu- luck wasn't good. Fill up, boys ! and drink to —ourselves ! ' ' What ? Not any ? What do you mean ? ' ' " Oh, T think I'll give those lemons another squeeze and try lemonade. I don't believe I was exactly seasoned right for anything stronger; " and upon that I fashioned a drink that cooled and refreshed me, and speedily put me in as good spirits as any of them. And after that, the lemons after being put through the squeezer for the punch-pail were laid aside for my special use, — and nobody felt aggrieved. A little before sunset, George rowed me up the lake two or three miles, on an exploring expedition. The lake is five or six miles long and about one mile wide, lying like an irregular crescent, curving westward and nestled among the mountains. The shores are, in the main, rocky and tirm, but at the outlet, southward, they degenerate, and, not far below, the stream wanders off into a marsh, or pond, nearly overgrown Avith lily-pads, — a fampus resort for deer. The lake itself is fed by springs and has no inlet of any SUNSET. — HEART OP THE FOREST. 49 coiiseqiieiice ; aud its waters are as pure as Nature, in lier own eliosen laboratories in the forest-clad mountains, can produce. It is the natural home for trout, who relish the best thiniis as well as an epicure or the most cultivated aristocrat, — which the trout family is among lishes. Everj^ sense was keenly alive to enjoy this unwonted scene, as I sat and half-reclined at my ease in the stern of the boat, while the strong, steady oar-strokes of my guide s\vei>t us out from shore upon the smooth bosom of the water. The morning had l)een l)eautiful,— the approaeh- ing evening was not less so. After his strong and stately course through the sky, the sun, about to depart, seemed to mellow and soften with tenderness tow^ardthe green forests and silvery waters, and I easily fancied he lingered reluct- ant to say good-night to so much loveliness. 1 am sure that with almost a human touch he kissed, with something very like a "good-night!" the lake, and then the timid foliage that crept down to the eastern shore, and then the sturdy, robust forest trees as they climbed u\) the mountains, and at hist the mountain brows themselves. And was he not looking backward, with a little mist in his eye, for one more glance of recognition from his beloved forest children, as he journej'ed on with unabated vigor in his tireless course towards the new morningV The stillness of the hour was unbroken by converse. There was so much to receive that I hardly had a thouiiht to utter; and my honest guide, accustomed as he was to the beauty and tender awe of such a scene, in the forest life he had led, and ordinarily unobservant of it, was yet touched 50 jock's t-ake, upon the lips by a hand he could not see, and held his peace. At length, sweeping around to the west, shortly after the sun had descended below the mountains, I went on shore to get one look at the heart of the forest. My guide sat on a rock at the water's edge by liis boat drawn up at his side, while I alone entered the dense and now darkening woods. There was something fearful in the stillness. The solemn silence seemed like the hush before the bursting of a storm, and the ancient trees frowned from their loft}^ heights,^ I half thought the}" were gathering up their knotted arms to strike down the curious invader of their sacred halls. As I advanced, an undergrowth of small trees, in time to become the successors of the heavy giants above them ( so does Nature, in man and tree, w^ork out her eternal law of succession and change), — impeded my progress, and the darkness was still descending. However, — such was the marvellous fascination of the hour and the place, — I pressed on, calling occasionally to my guide, and awaiting his responsive call, to ensure my being able to find my way back to the boat. But, at length, I discovered that I was walking in beaten paths. Tracks of animals of no mean proportions were behind and before me. All the legends of wolves and bears and panthers that I had ever heard or read, flashed upon my memory, — and with one more call to George, I turned and hastened back to the shore. I was content with my one glimpse, by twilight, at the forest's great and solemn heart; and having once, alone, THOMPSON GOES A-FISIITNG. 51 and in such an hour, touched it with ni}^ own hand and listened to its throb, I have felt the awe of that experience evermore. We returned to camp, the inevitable smudge, the camp- tire, the pipe, the story and joke and banter, and, at last to our bed of boughs, — one genuine day of our vacation ended. CHAPTER lY. Two (lays after, Tlioinpson had arranged everything at > camp to his satisfaction, — among other things, having erected a tlag-stalf and run up tlie American tlag, which we thereafter vigorously cheered as we nightly returned from our fishing or our exi)loring. He had gone out row- ing, near l)y, or bathing, and amused himself watching the rabbits that came out at nightfall after they became accustomed to our presence, 1>ut had not j'et wet a line. "Now, gentlemen, ''said he after breakfast, this morning, "I propose to have a day of fishing. I shall la}' aside all official responsibilities, and, on vour own level, proceed to show you what an old fisherman can do when ' he's got a good ready, ' — and .you. " turning to me, "shall be my comj>anion. " '■ That's wise, " said Benson. — " to choose one as a wit- ness who never has caught trout before, and who will therefore I>e duly impre-ssed with your prowess. " " I am convinced, " said the Professor, " that our astute , C'ai)tain has in mind to claim the coml)ined catch as his own. There is nothing in the way of impudence that might not be expected of a man direct from Washington. " "Jealousy! pure jealousy ! gentlemen. Horace, you are to go with us, " added Thompson, turning to that worthy, who was busj' with his housekeeping duties; "and put up THOMPSON GOES A-FISHING. 53 a good lunch, for we shall be gone all daj^, — and don't for- get the lemons for this cokl-water-man's drink. " As we strolled along towards the boat, — Thompson and I. — Thompson said, "I didn't want any of those boys to go with me to-day. They are all fish-mad. They are glorious fellows, but they liave been bitten by trout, and nothing satisfies them but killing trout again. Now, I love fishing dearly. There is no sport like it for me. But there is a vast deal in fishing besides catching fish, and that is what I want to get to-day. I want to explore this lake, — to enjoy this scenery a little, — as well as to fish. They Avouldn't be willing to do that, — it would be just fish! fish! fish! all day with them, and if a fellow ventured a little sentiment, there 'd be no end of banter. But you are new to the woods — no trout has ever bitten you yet, although your day is pretty sure to come if you repeat this kind of a trip a few times, — and I have seen you looking off on the lake and the mountains, in the morning and at sunset, in such a sort of way, that I have judged that you enjoyed these things enough to go a-fishing on my plan. So, I have iisked you to go with me. " "Yes, " said I, "this is all new and very delightful to me. On this trip I mean to catch the forest if I don't catch many trout. I can't be content to go away with only a dim memory of what, when I stop to look at it and feel it, impresses me more deeply than anything else in nature ever did. " "Agreed, then," replied Thompson, "that for to-day, Ave shall fish as lazily, and talk as sentimentally, and keep 54 jock's lake. silence, when we choose, as freely as we may happen to desire. " By this time Horace had come down to the shore, where we were standing; and in a few moments we were out on the water, pointing directly for "Old BaUl Head. "' a rocky promontor}^ across the lake, where stood a l)ark shanty Avhichhad sometime been occupied by a fishing jj^rty. We fished a few rods off the point, taking eight splendid trout, and then moved on, up tlie eastern shore of the lake. We fished at various promising places, went ashore to find cold springs and to gather spru(?e-gum, and passed nothing of interest without examination. At the head of the lake, and on the western shore, right on a little bluff, close to the water's edge, we landed to take our noon-day lunch. On a big soil and moss covered rock we spread our ))lanket for a couch, for we proposed to ourselves the oriental luxury of reclining while we feasted. Two great trees, rooted upon the rock, spread tlieir leafy arms al)Ove us, while the heavy forest pressed down behind us and lent additional shade and the delicious coolness of the dense woods. Horace built a smudge in a little hollow near by, on the windward side, and (hen drew out the big basket of lunch, and made a refreshing lemon- ade. And "then and there," lying on the softest of couches, looking far down the lake and out on the ever- green forest on the shores and mountains in the distance, we lunched. — stop])ing between frequent "bites" at excellent sandwiches of ham and soda crackers, or cold trout and johnny-cake, and sips of lemonade, to admire LUNCH AND SLUMBER. 55 and comment on tlie wonderful l)cauty that surrounded us. The smudge graciously sent its tin}^ clouds just above our heads, and spared our sentiment the mocking tears that come — and end — in smoke. Then we lighted our cigars, — for this was Thompson's holiday, — reclined on our backs, gazed up where the smoke wrcatfis were floating among the green leaves, and were silent. Cigars finished, and fanned by the softest Ijreezes stealing over the \mve water, we droi)ped off to sleep, — every one of us .in a blissful nap, more delicious than the sweetest, stolen, summer sleep in a country church during a. drowsy sermon. Good, kind wolves! most excellent ))e:irsl and self denying panthers! — whose tracks and traces we thought we saw on the forest side of us, — man}^ thanks to j'ou for that peaceful and undisturbed slumber! The responsibilities of station vex the soul of authority, even in slum1)er, — and the Captain wakened. Our oriental table and conch luid wooed and lulled us for an hour and a half of the noon-day; and we quickly gathered up our basket and blankets, bestowed them and ourselves in the boat, and pushed from slioi-e. Down the lake we rowed again, chatting of hunter's and fisherman's exploits, of the lieauty and exquisite loveli- ness of the scenes coming upon us gently and "with a sweet surprise " at every turn,— our happy thoughts and reveries, when we ceased talking, keeping time and tune with the sturdy and steady oar-strokes of the wiry and willmg guide. We hardly cared to fish, and wiien we did, 56 " jock's lake. the dropping of our hooks iu the water was like smiting a mirror into fragments, — so utterly quiet and glassy-calm was the surface, — and the trout, as w^ell as we, seemed to be in a revery after a lunching of their own. We had been told of a rock on the west shore, " as big as a house," placed or misplaced thereby some convulsion of nature. It was visible from afar, and we p,ut ashore near its base. Thompson and Horace sat on a rock by the water in the shade, while I paid a visit of curiosity and respect to the mysterious stranger. A tree had fallen against its side, and on that I climbed as far as the tree went and then clambered on a precarious footing up the nearl}^ perpendicular side to the top. It was ovei' twenty feet high, and about thirty feet by fifteen on the top, and in general outlines rectangular, a conglomerate boulder, with shining quartz intermingled with sand stone. I pecked some of the jewels from his crown and put them in my pocket for souvenirs. The grand old fellow had a histor}" but he was mute and silent in our presence, and refused to be interviewed. After our early supper, we all gathered about the camp- tire, as usual, to talk over the affairs of the da}" and to enjoy the pipes and jokes and stories. The rabbits, by this time, had become (juite accustomed to our presence, and came out after sunset from the shrub- bery at the upper end of our little farm, to feed. We were greatly ammused and interested in their play, and watched them with the spirit of a naturalist, until some earthy- minded soul suggested that rabbits made an excellent stew. RABBIT-STEW.^-" THE PLY." — FOREST SOUNDS. 57 "Aye! Aye!" said Horace, " I can make a rabbit stew fit for any man in the party." "Let's have 'em! " hoarsly whispered that insatiate fiend, Benson. "Yea, it is not meet that men should live on fish, alone," gravely declared the Professor — he of the well lined abdomen — " and 1 opine that " — "Well, well!" said Thompson, as he half rose from his seat in apparent disgust, "if this scholastic gentleman means to make a pun on fiesh and fish in this high-handed manner, 1 suggest that somebody shoot hiin, — he'd make a stew for half a tribe of cannibals." "Such wrath in celestial minds ? '" retorted the Profes- sor; "ma}" not one signif}^ his occasional desire for meat, without danger of being made that which he desires ? " But at this instant the Neophyte, who had ciuietly taken a gun from the hut, [)ullcd the trigger and ended the wordy controvers}" and the career of a fat rabbit at the critical juncture. The rest of the rabbit family hopped and skittered otf into the woods instantly, and Horace speedily prepared the game for stewing in the morning. When once we had tasted fiesh again, all scruples against killing the pretty creatures vanished, and we went to our butcher's as regularly as the familj^ man at home, — always, however, as a matter of safety, ordering a rabbit stew. "^ In the afternoon, on the following day, Thompson, — who evidently still loved the woods and waters for something besides what he could catch with a hook, — graciously taking me as his companion again, went down the lake to the 58 jock's TiAKE. outlet, where we left our boat unci scrambled down over rocks and fallen trees, near the rapid stream, to " the fly " (vlci ?) — a broad, shallow, marshy pond, half overgrown with lily-pads — where deer love to feed. We gathered wintergreens on our wa3% and pitcher-plants b}^ the shore, picked u}) a feather from an eagle's wing, — that was al)out all — but heartily enjoyed the sunshine and shade and I lie weird stillness. Tbe forest has its sounds, even on tlie (piictcst of days, — the slight rustle of the aspen leaves, perhap;., — tbe low, sad note of the wood bird flitting through the shade, — the startled chirrup of the chipmunk. — the scream of an eagle soaring high above the trees, — the buzzing of tlies in the sunshine, — but the total impression is of a stillness almost appalling. But there come days in the woods, and especially nights, when nature becomes restive and wakens from this sleep of her forces. The air so soft and gentle becomes nervously tense and strong as the muscles of a rudely awakened giant. It stretches out its invisible jirms and swings and sways them until the wild, rushing sounds roar through the trees ; dashes ui)on the placid watei-s, and the waves rvm to and fro as in fear or in m.-idness; sweeps and plunges down through the mountain ])asses, and the mouin- ful wail of the startled recesses rises in a passionate i)rayer for peace again; seizes the monarchs of the forest and wrestles and strives with them until the}' groan in the mad grasp of a power that cannot be grasped again, for it is the intangible power of the air. And then, the storms! — the wild carnival of the lightnings, — the horrid bellow and BENSON "goes FOR " A DEER. 59 rattling savagery of the thunder, its roar and crash among the mountains, — and the blinding floods of rain, descend- ing as if the clouds were huge catapults hurling their Avild, Avateiy missiles down with all the wrath of war! If the stillness was appalling, so is this, the other possil)ility of an Adirondack day. But on this occasion the giants were all asleep, and Thompson and I stepped over and around them unconscious of their presence, and declared there was notliing half so charming as an afternoon raml)le and scramble in the Adirondack woods. 80 do we all, in our daily lives, walk among the unseen elements of tragedies, happy to day in the sunshine, — to-morrow sitting Avith bowed heads and aching hearts in the ilarkened home where the storm has burst, the bolt descended, and there is an imtold desolation. We were in camp again, in the evening. " Boys," said Benson, "Horace and I have a little business on hand. This camp hasn't had a mouthful of venison yet, — and there's plenty of it running around loose in these woods. We're going for it." "Put him in the hold!" shouted the sailor-merchant, — ' ' he's gone daft ! Too much lake water, no doubt, and too little 'enlivener. ' — You don't propose to go out of camp this dai'k night, do youV " " That's the programme, my dear, innocent friend. You don't suppose I mean to shoot a deer up there where Neo- phyte shot the rabbit, do you? " "But it's darker than a cellar, — and it's almost sure to rain. " 60 jock's lake. " So much the better," replied Benson. " You can never ' jack ' a deer in a bright night,— and this sultry air makes the flies bite, and a deer's sure to go for the water when the flies pester him as they will to-night.— Hurry up, Horace, with the 'jack ' " Horace had prepared the ' jack-light, ' which was simply a piece of bark nailed upright on the semi-circular edge of a bit of board so as to form a rude reflector, within which was placed a short candle, the whole supported by a stick thrust through a hole in the front seat of the boat. Benson finished loading both barrels of his heavy shot- gun with buck-shot, examined everything to see that there should be no accident in the darkness, or mis-fire at the critical moment. Then the two went down to the landing, and we heard the muflEied gi-ating of the boat as they pushed off from the rocks and disappeared from sound and sight down the lake. They were to land at the foot of the lake and then clamber and scramble as best they could, in the darkness, down through the pathless woods to " the fly, " where a water-soaked, half -rotten, leaky scow awaited them. In that unrelialjlc craft, at the uncanny hour of midnight, they were to light up the "jack, " and "float" for deer. Horace ' was to paddle as silently as a snake glides over the grass; the " jack" was to throw its light in front, leaving the boat and its occupants in the shade; the hunter was to sit close behind the jack-staff, gun in hand, ready in an instant to shoot at the "two globes of fire" which the eyes of the deer would resemble when staring, confounded at the light, or to shoot at his body if luckily that sliould be l)rought into relief. BUCK FE^^E. — MIMIC BATTLES. 61 AW this was to be doue, it had been explained to me as being the Neophyte,— but at the last the deer itself might fail to perform its part of the drama. There's many a slip, I was told, between a deer and a shot. Sometimes the deer has grown wise through experience, and in its small bi'ain reasons that if a candle explodes and roars and stings the innocent spectator with a stray bu(;k-shot one night, it may do so another night, and is not to be trusted to approach; and the deer betakes it to its legs and shows no globes of tire at all. Bat an unsophisticated deer is very curious, — and. }iossil»ly, would know good and evil, — and upon seeing a briglil light, and nothing more, stares and stands, if he hears no noise and does not smell the foe, until the huntei' approaches to within tifty, forty, thirty feet. Then there is nothing to do but to keep one's nerves steady, silently raise and aim the gun, and pull the trigger. If, however, the shooter is new to the experience, he is likely to be more nei'vous than the deer is, — to forget to shoot, sometimes, or to shake as in an ague tit, and to commit indiscribableblunders,-in other words, to have "the buck fever. " So that, after all, "jacking deer " is not such a one-sided affair as at tirst it would seem to be. Meanwhile, we had withdrawn to the hut, and retilled and lighted our pipes. A quartette of us, seated like so man}^ tailors on the blanket-spread couch, were, with joke and laughter and .snatches of song and whistled airs, fighting the mimic battle of "kings" and "queens " and "knaves." Nothing more fearful was done in these battles than tliat "clubs" smashed "hearts," the vulgar " spade " won 62 jock's lake. victories ovei\tlie aristocratic ''diamond, " and the mathe- matically impossible came to "pass,"— one counted more than ten, and to this magic quality even royalty and knavery succumbed. The Neophyte,— an inveterate keeper of a diary,— by the same tallow-dip, with a cracker box for a taljle, was writing up his notes for the day, and gathering up the little odds and ends that, woven together, make up the warp and woof of forest life in camp. But the longest and jolliest evening in the woods, as well as out, at last brings bed-time, be the couch that of luxury or the bed of boughs. Some hours after, I half awoke, and by the dim light of a flickering and sleepy candle saw Benson, all wet and dripping, with slouched hat and long, rubber overcoat shining with moisture, holding his gun in his hands, and standing just within the door; and by his side stood Horace with a deer flung across his shoulders, the legs drawn around his neck like a huge, fantastic necktie. In an instant every one of us was wide-awake, and while the rain was beating in torrents upon the rude bark-roof of our hut, Benson, while removing his coat and l)oots and concocting a reviv- ing punch, began his story: "Well, boys, we've got him— sure! But wliat a time we've had! \"ou see, it was as dark as ten pockets lioiled down into one when we got to the foot of the lake. You couldn't see a thing. We thought we wouldn't light up, for there was no telling but we might scare every deer in the neighborhood. So we floundered along, keep- ing near the stream, guided by the sound of the water and Benson's story of the deer-hunt: 68 the little let-up of the darkness where the trees were separa- ted and the sky had a chance to look down. " B}' good luck, we found the old scow where we left it when we hunted it up the other day. We found tlie oUl tin can under the seat and hailed out the water, hut the wretched craft leaked like a riddle, and we had to do a little more plug'g'ingup of cracks and holes hefore we dared to start off with her. " "How on earth did you do all that, in the dark?" asked Johnson, "and without anything to caulk her with ? " "Oh, Horace lighted up the jack, and kept the light from flaring by holding his coixt all around it, — made a regular dark lantern of it, j'ou see. And 1, — well, I parted with a good piece of my shirt-flap ft)r caulking purposes. A man in the woods can't be particular about these little matters. "Well, finally we rigged the jack in the boat and got afloat. Luckily it didn't rain just 3^et, although the air was a'^full of moisture as a balloon is of gas. We went down the fly ' forty rods, perhaps, about where I thought, the other da}', a deer ought to come in, if anywhere. Before we got ver}' near, I touched a match to the caudle and the thing- sputtered a minute and then went out. A drop of water had got on it, somehow. I thought we were in a fix, but after two or three matches had been held to the wick, the water dried off. ;uid the blaze started. Then I saw what a glorious night it was for jacking. The darkness was so thick that you could cut it. That I could see b}' the candle- light. I thought some of slicing off a few nice pieces to cover Horace up with; — but it wasn't necessar3\ — a deer couldn't have seen either of us if he had worn spectacles. 64 jock's lake. "Horace paddled as if he was creeping up to a camp of Comaiiclies, — slowly, and so still that at one time I almost looked around to see if the fellow hadn't given me the slip, and gone ashore again. I had enough on liand, though, looking out under the jack in the space covered by the light to see the tirst show of deer, and listening with ])Oth ears and my mouth to hear a step or a splash. A little rascal of a frog startled me, once, jumping off 'a lily-pad into the water. ' Gracious! ' thinks I, ' there's a deer that's got scent of us before I've got sight of him, — and he's off in a minute, if that's the stjde of step he's taking!' But that was a false alarm, of course, and one that Horace wasn't fooled by, either. Then I had the dickens' own time with the punkies and mosquitoes. Something like five million of 'em settled down on me and kept off five million more that wanted to get on but couldn't find room. I didn't dare put on any tar-oil. Might as well've staid in camp as to have advertised in that way, — a deer would've- smelled me a quarter of a mile off. And I couldn't slap 'em, for a deer is keen to hear the slightest sound, and he can tell a frog- jump from a slap at a mosquito as quick as he can wink. So, all I could do was to rub my hands together, as well as I could and hold my gun, — and get mad enough to stand it." " But tell us about the deer, old fellow, and not be both- ering about the frogs and mosquitoes, " intei-rupted Thomp- son, who grudged the loquacious huntsman the time he took, at that hour of the night, to relate all the marvels of his deer-hunt. STORY OF THE DEP:R HUNT. 65 " I begin to doubt, " saidJohnson, "that you shot that deer at all, — you make so much of — " " — the accessories," added the Professor, by way of helping- out. "By Jove," continued Johnson. " I believe you just cast anchor, down there, lit your pipe, and this deer crawled into your boat to be sociable, like,^and then you bloody pirates cut his throat." Benson, who by this time had relighted his pipe, smiled triiuuphantly and continued — "I can show you the buck- shot holes in his skin, to answer that, — and there's the back of my hand, and here's the blood-spots on my neck to sat- isfy any gentleman that the live million were down there. "Well, (puff, puif,) as I was going on to sa}^ we pad died along as carefully as if we were right in the midst of a whole herd of deer fast asleep, and were as afraid as death of 'em, for fully twenty minutes, when I heard another little splash in the water and something dripping. Horace heard it, too, — and it wasn't any frog-jump, this time, — and he just turned that boat, bow on, towards that sound, as if the old scow was on a greased pivot no bigger than a pin, — shoved her ahead four or five rods, and there stood my deer! He's a good looking buck now, although some- what in a heap, — isn't he? But you should have seen him then! He was up to his knees in the water, feeding on the lily-pads; but *the moment the light caught his eye he straightened up, and stood like a picture, — head up, nose a little thrust out as if asking questions about this new thing. May-be he thought it was some new sort of tire-tly that 66 jock's lake. made a great flourish, — possibly, he imagined there'd been a new style of moon invented for s]ieeially dtirk niglits and that this was the way it generally rose, — pi'rhai)s, however, he was just dazed and didn't imagine mueh of anylliing. — At all events, iu^t the minute I thought I was near enough to put a sure shot in, I shook the boat, just a trille, and Horaee stopped paddling; — 1 sighted along ohl, "Sure Death " and blazed away. " My ! what a splashing and dasliing there was! As 1).id luck would have it, the gun kieked like fury, wlien I pulled it ofT, and somehow the jack was knocked over and the light put out. Where the candle went to, I don't knf)W. — Horace had another pie(>e in his pocket, -uid we lighted that, and then went hunting for our deer. I knew it was ours, fast enough, by the kind of racket he made in the water. He had managed to get ashore, but we tracked him four or five rods and found him, and Horace cut^his throat. Then we dragged him into the boat, came back to the landing, and started through tlie woods. Just then it began to rain. We were fairly walled up in the darkness, and the rain just poured. We managed to keep our candle burning about a (|uarter of the time, and the other three- quarters we were plunging into holes, over rcjcks and bogs, in the dark; and Horace was 'most as dead as the deer, while I carried the gun and the jack, and was the worst done-for man you ever saw. But I got my 1)uck! — and there he is! and if you fellows are not grateful for the ven- ison he'll make, — 3'^ou go, next time. My story's done." " For all such blessings may we be duly thankful !" sono- I'ously responded the Professor, CHAPTER V. The inoniiug- cjune, iiiul with it a ila}^ of alternate thun- der and storm and sunshine, — and our lirst Sunday" in tlie forest. There were no tine ch)tlies in camp; no church- bell sounded across the water; the I)ig, family bible and tlie religious weekl}' had not journej'ed thither in Wilkinson's wagon; but somehow all these had left some sort of im- press on men with sprouted beards, worn and torn attire, — men who had changed their skies but nijt their minds. "Gentlemen," said Thompson, as we emerged from the hut after breakfast and strolled down to the rocks on the shore, ' • Im not verj^ straight-laced, and don't pass, at home, for a Puritan, by any means; but I never fish in the woods, on Sunday, unless 1 am des[>erateh' hungry. Fd make a sorry show as your spiritual teaclier, I suspect, altb.ough being your Captain, I have the right to make the proper Sunday laws of the woods for 3'ou. Bui, bo3's, if 3'ou want to tish to-da}', my advic-e is, — don't! " "It is not ditlicult, worthy Captain, to accept your adviee," said the Professor, "in the presence of these rev- erent forests and yonder pure and placid lake, with the skj' above us as benignant here as where it bends over our Sab- bath-keeping homes. " jock's lake. "That's put rather seutimentally, isn't it, Professor?" inquired Benson; " hut if you get right down to hard-pan, and say that a man's a man, no matter what sort of clothes he happens to have on or wlio's watching him, or wliere he happens to be, I just agree with you. And if he is only a veneered man at home, the veneer'll come off up here and he'll be whatever he is,— may-be a heathen." "You can paint and rig an old ship that's worm-eaten and rotten," added the old sailor, " and it looks about as well as a bran'-new craft with every plank and timber in her as sound as a bell ; but the long, lonely voyage tells on her, and the storm don't care for the paint,— she's pretty sure to go to wreck. That's the way I suspect it is with your 'veneered' men." " The man who yields obedience to law,"— and the Neo- phyte took a hand in the discourse,— "simply because of its sanctions and penalties, or because it is respectable to be law-abiding, is not law-abiding at all,— he's simply law-fear- ing or dishonor-fearing. He's the sort of man that breaks down suddenly and to the astonishment of every body, when he moves to a new country, loses the influence of old and restraining associations, and simply becomes his natural self. Your genuine man obeys law— moral as well as civil, civil as well as moral— because it is right to do so. Indeed, I don't think a man makes a very good Cliristian who joins the church to keep out of hell,— takes out a si)iritual fire-insurance policy and calls it being religious on principle. It isn't,— it's being religious on policy." "But do not you lawyers find that it is the lower motive, THE MORAL ''ISOTHERMAL." 69 after all, that mainly iuHuences men to obey civil lawsV" asked the Professor; " and do you imagine, for a moment, that laws would be generally obeyed if the pimishments of their infraction were removed? " "That is for the philosopher and not the lawyer to answer," replied the Neophj^te. "However, it is apparent to any one but a dull observer, that criminal laws and their penalties realh' influence onlj' the smaller portion of civil- ized mankind ; but the line of demarcation, properl}' drawn, would be as great a curiositj^ as an isothermal line across the continent. Station, rank, wealth or povert \% education or ignorance, in themselves do not lix the line, — it sweeps high, it sweeps low, it runs strangely, to human eyes, — but it runs by a law as clear to the Mind which can see the man that is hid in the body, as the isothermal line is to the wise student of nature. It goes by character, — and character isn't reputation or position. " The pipes were all empty. The breakfast dishes having been cleared up, and affairs at camp tidied up in general, the guides savmtered down to the I'ocks where we sat. "Well, what next?" said the Captain. "From my small text about not going a-fishing, jou men of words have spun a rather lengthy sermon, — enough for to day, I guess." " I propose," said Benson, "that we take a row around the lake. It's better than sitting here — the Professor may break loose next. To avoid all criticism, I'll suggest that the guides do all the rowing, and that we reduce the number of oar-strokes from a himdred and lift}' to — say — 70 JOCli'8 ''t.ake. Wmty a miimte. That will be about a comfortable clmrcli- o-oiiig jog." ■'Better leave your rod at camp," said the C'aptaiu — ' ' your Sundaj" morning- resolutions would fade out dread- fully quick if you saw a trout leap, while you were on 3^our 'church-going jog,' if your rod was in the boat." And so it was ordered and done. The two boats, bear- ing our entire party, swept out upon the lake, followed the winding shores, rounded the points and penetrated the bajs, in a leisurely way, while we enjoyed to the full the freshness of the morning and all the beaut}' of the varied scenes. A thunderstorm in all its majesty and fury burst upon forest and hike. Forewarned by the distant but fast approaching roar and the marshalling of great banks of clouds la the sk3^ we pushed ashore, drew our boats out of water and up under the trees and speedily constructed a refuge b}' turning them bottom side up with one end resting on the low limb of a tree. Likeii true Adirondack thunder- storm, it deluged everything around us for a few moments, and then hastened on with unabated fury, out of sight and sound. The sun shone brightly again, and we speedil}" resumed our quiet journeying. Our Suudaj^ dinner was a triumph even over Horace's former exploits, for. in addition to everj-^thing else, we had the most delicious bits of Benson's buck. The evening hour approached, and b}' tacit and common consent we all strolled down to the water's edge, stepped into the boats and pushed out a little distance and anchored, EVENING ON THE WATER. 71 while the guides remained at camp and completed the homel}^ duties there. It was the most peaceful scene and hour we had jet enjoyed. Even the midges and mosquitoes, which always preferred to remain on shore and never pursued us twenty yards from land, had fallen away from us like summer friends. Our talk was of times gone by, of friends absent, of topics hardly suggested by our surroundings; while the gently descending darkness and the balmy air and perfect serenity of nature attuned our thoughts to higher themes than we ventured to dwell upon in the rough-and-tumble of our daily camp life in the garish light of day or even at the nightly camp-fire. So passed our Sunday in the woods, — not wliolly with- out its good influences. CHAPTER VI. Monday morning awoke fresh and brisk, like a town rousing from a holiday rest. Every man of ns felt that he was beginning genuine forest-life anew\ " Boj's, I tell you it pays, even up here in the woods," said Benson, as he stepped out into the bright morning light, "to have Sunday come once a week. Something has turned back the clock or the almanac with me, for I feel a year younger than I did Saturday night." " And I," said the Professor, "feel it in all my nature — and especially in my wrists and tinger-tips — that I must again ply my rod. My piscatorial appetite is strong again. I must catch and kill — or 1 perish!" " It takes people ditferent ways, I see," said Johnson, "but I always did feel that after I had been in harbor awhile I wanted to up with the anchor again and put out to sea." " Well," added the Captain, "why don't you go along, the whole of 3'ou, and fish to your heart's content?— only, I give you fair warning, this venison is to be jerked, and we're about out of provisions, aiid you can't have the boys with you. — Here, Horace, fix up the racks and you jerk the venison; and George, you'll have to foot it out to Wil- kinson's and pack in some tlour and sugar and some other JERKING VENISON. — SHORT SI'PPT.TES. — TRAPS. V;'. tilings that Horace will tell j'ou about. You cau go out to-day, and come back to-morrow." The morning's fishing was very ^successful, — the trout themselves having apparently shared in the general Mon- day morning enthusiasm, and almost gleefully responding to the fisherman's call. On the whole, Monday was a triumi>h. On tlie following day George returned, and gaunt famine — in the form of short supplies — departed by the shortest trail to some less fortunate camp. A single letter had found its way to us, and that, so far as news of the outer world went, was read aloud to the whole party. There was rifle-.shooting at a target, this day; and the pal ma was awarded to " the Lemonader," with great good nature, and a tribute to the nerve-steadying effects of the victor's chosen beverage. The Neophj'te had, for days, Avearied his brain with plans for capturing some of the rabbit family alive. He longed for the cheering and humanizing influences of a menagerie. The care of a dumb Iteast, he thought, would exert a lilx-ralizing influence on the entire party of fish-slayers. This .day he devoted his finest talents to the construction of two " flgure 4" traps, with which he was wont in boy- hood to entrap the confiding wood-chuck, — alas! some- times, Xo his discomfiture, capturing (a Greek present) the odor-V)earing skuidv. In this contest with ral)bit wit and cunning, he signall}' failed. The cracker-box was too small, the tul), ditto, — and hairs, not hares, were the net result. Besides, chipmunks, — villainous little thieves! — were the 74 jock's i-ake. allies of the rabbits, and sprung the traps. But at last a little chap ran into our hut, and him we caught and con- fined in a ])ark-cage then and there made. So did we beguile the ho\u"s of the afternoon and evening. So did not, however, Horace; for he hovered around the rack wheie the sliced deer-meat was slowly drj'ing and smoking over the tire he had built luider it, and, after cur- ing it to a turn, stored it away to be carried out of the woods as a wonderful product of woodsman's skill, to be shown and nibbled and pronounced delicious — after it was explained that it was "jerked" venison. The days went on, and we found renewed pleasures in the old employments and sports. There were the rowing, the fishing, the bathing, the rifle-shooting, always, and we invented new diversions and enjoyments almost daily, — small and unimportant to speak of, but wonderfully important to be done and enjoyed. We had our terrific thunderstorms, depositing floods of water, rather too fre- quently, but they w^ere always so grand, that if we got a wetting there was no grumbling, — it spoiled no clothing and broke no business engagement. The fishing was all that our more ardent fishermen desired; and there was something for every taste and fancy and desire. Even the screams of the owls by night— and those other sounds, as of human agony that once we heard,— brought something to us. At last, there came an evening — our last in our woodland home— when we rowed out on the beautiful lake to say our GOOD night! and farewell! 75 liiiai Good Night ! to all its loveliness. It was more l)eautifiil, if possible, than ever before. We had come to know and love its features like those of a dear friend. We had seen its face in all moods and phases of feeling. To-night it was placid, — quiet and sad, we thought, — or was that a reflection of our own emotions? As the evening- shades crept steadily and heavily down from the moun- tains, and then The full-orl)ed moon arose and dispelled them again, and we lingered, reluctant to say the parting- word to the lovely water with the home-spun name, — we, hovering between two worlds, the depth above and the depth below, — and looked abroad on forest and mountain and lake, in their supernatural glor}^ of light and shade, and felt — as who does not when bidding farewell? — that we might never behold them again, who shall blame us if, for that moment, we idealized all this charm and beauty and mystery, and gave it a human soul, — and if we stood on the shore, at last, and waved a silent adieu with emotions like those a lover feels as he bids the maid he loves a long farewell ! Many a time, that evening scene in its surpassing serenity and loveliness has come to the heart of the Neophyte, in his slumbers by night. — but his waking vision has never since looked upon the beautiful water, to which he that night silentl}^ said "Good Night, forever!" . The nois)' morning came, the bright, strong, sensible sun, and the preparations for our departure, which consumed nearly all the forenooon. It was surprising how much packing we had to do, considering what an impudently 70 jock's lake. small load we had when the packing was done. We had, in fact, pretty much eaten up the burden we brought in. Wilkinson's phenomenal horses were on hand, with their owner, and by noon we were ready to move forth. Horace and the Neophyte led the van, and plunged into the forest. The long, weary tramp to Wilkinson's was bec'un. The vanguard were fortunate enough *o see that Ijeautif ul sight— a deer by day-light. When his vision was blessed by this sight, the Neophyte felt that his cup had run over. The timid creature gazed— we gazed— but a step forward, and she sprang from the water's edge and disap- peared in the forest. For four hours, through mud and over rocks and streams and mountains, and through thunderstorms, we steadily tramped,— every step elastic and strong, and without fa- tigue, (such was the triumph of Nature's Medicine!) until, safe and sound, we all reached Wilkinson's again. At three o'clock the next morning we were up and awa\ to Prospect, twenty-one miles distant, where we caught a railroad train, and at lOJ A. M. were again in Utica. There we were restored to cleanliness, our good clothes, hotel cookery, time tables; and, with lliese restored, we separated, going our several ways, and ovu- delightful, long-to-be- remembered expedition "to Jock's Lake " w^as done. JhE JSOF^TH^F^;^ 'WlX.DERJME^^, OR THE ST. REGIS AND SA HAN ACS. CHAPTER VII. One Jiil)^ afternoon in 187 — , and subsequent to the events of the hist chapter, the Editor and I, after a long journe}' by rail, found ourselves at the Ferguson House in the thriving town of Malone, Franklin County, N. Y. Our faces were turned towards the Northern Wilderness. Passing many gateways to the land of promise, we sought this as an entrance to a region of peculiar delights, and one remarkably full of benefits to the tired seeker of a vacation. We were to climb up, southerly, out of the Valley of the St. Lawrence, into mountains and forests where the lakes were cold, the air invigorating and brac- ing even in the period of summer heat, — the spruces and balsams taking kindly to both the latitude and the alti- tude. Twenty -five miles to the south and well into the woods, lay Meacham Lake, where a comfortable forest hostelry was maintained b}^ A. R. Fuller. This was our first objective point. In an hour we had dined, our liver}' was at the door, our luggage packed, and with two gentlemen from New York, of like destination, we were in our seats, and awaj' with a dash. We were granted a perfect da}', a good span of horses, an easy-riding wagon, an intelligent driver, and for many 80 THE ST. REGIS AND SAPtANACS. miles a good road ; Avhile our chance companions proved tobemostajireeable. For the first third of the distance our way lay through an ordinary, cultivated, farming region; then we began to climb the foot-hills and at length the mountains, in a rougher and more rocky and less cultivated region, until at length, in the density of the forest, weiost all reckoning. The first mountain that we ascended, in the open coun- try, gave to our view the broad, vast valley of the St. Law- rence, in panorama. We climbed and straggled up on foot, halting and turning as often to catch the changing scenes as to rest from our weary labors. Far off to the north, north-west and north-east extended below us the i)lain, in field and woodland and town, the shining belt of the distant river faintly gleaming under the July sun ; and the receding Canadian liills, in the remote distance, at length mingled their hazy blue with the tenderer azure of the sky. The higher we climbed, the grander the scene and the wider the scope of vision, although the barrier of hazy blue far off continually lifted its front, a shore to the sea of sunshine in the valle3' below. There was a strange thing. Here and there, in the valle}- plaiu, arose, bold and rugged, like a vast boulder, a moun- tain with almost perpendicular sides that were bare and looked to be rock, —detached palisades, or, lost and forsaken antediluvian monarchs with their rugged forest crowns yet on their heads. Or, were they massive towers of Babel, built in some mad freak b}" the old Sons of the North, or, fortresses of defense against Odin and Thor? Whatever MOUNTAINS. — WILDERNESS ROMANCES. 81 the}' were, tlie}' are dow striking features of scenerj^ to one climbing toilsomely up the momitaius to the forest. And if you journey thither, praj^ you may have a bright July day over your heads, with a sea of sunshine rolling its gently swelling tides from the foot of the mountains you climb to the far off blue-haze mountains behind which the Canadian wilds stretch away to the Arctic Sea. There are manj^ romances connected with the wilderness; — of hermits who sought the depths of the forests to hide some sorrow or crime from the gaze of men ; — of refugees from foreign lands, nobles and princes at home, who came hither to bury themselves in utter obscurity until a new political revolution should restore them to favor and for- tune. Even a Bonaparte came to the solitudes, with wealth and pomp, and left a story that will be repeated as long as men love tlie marvellous. "Old John Brown," for years, lived in the wilderness as the friend and counselor of the colored settlers to whom Gerrit Smith, with good will but poor wisdom, gave lands for farms and homes, and ' ' his body lies a-mouldering in the ground," at North Elba, where he had lived, while his soul has been marching on in the events of well nigh a quarter of a centur}^ since he died on the scaffold. Then come the homely and pitiful romances of gigantic business enterprises in the wilderness, gone to wreck and ruin. This strange region is a vast l)ed of iron ore. Untold wealth is hidden in the mountains. Strong men have grappled with the problem of its removal; money and thougiit and skill and tremendous toil have been expended' 82 THE ST. REGIS AND SARANACS. hivislily, to that end; but all to no purpose. The wrecks are scattered here and there, monuments of ill-directed energy, and warnings against any future endeavor of the kind without the use of such modern api>liances as shall absolutely conquer the stern resistance of this region to all attacks upon its treasures. In our journeying, before we reached the dense forest, we touched upon the edge and saw the desolate home of one of these latter romances, in the town of Duane. And it will do to be briefly historical, perhaps, — since in that consists the principal pail of the romance. There lived in the city of New York during the Revo lution, and long after, James Duane, — a lawjer and states- man, useful, influential and famous in his daj% and honored l\v President Washington with an appointment as the first United States Judge of the District of New York. He performed the rare act, as he became old, of voluntaril}^ laying off the robes of office. Upon his resignation, he removed to Schenectady, and there died inFebrunry, 1797, leaving one son and four daughters. His grandson, James Duane, having acquired, by marriage with a daughter of William Constable, a large tract of territory in the then named town of Malone, (from which the town of Duane was afterwards formed,) removed thither from Schenectad}' with his famil}' in 1825, and made his home nearl}' ten miles from his nearest neighbor, the most remote settler in the forest in all that region. He and others entered upon tbe project of iron manufacturing in 1828, built the neces- THE DUANES. 83 saiy works, formed a settlement in due time, spent a for- tune, and disastrously ended the experiment in 1849. We passed through the ruins of this enterprise ; and our driver told the story of the Duanes, as we rode along between the miles of maples they planted by the road-side and the miles of stone fence they built. He pointed out the spot where the old mansion stood, — burned mysteriously soon after the elder Duane died, — and we saw for ourselves the deserted barns scattered through the meadows along the river bottoms, the weather-beaten, abandoned houses of the laborers and other subordinates, and the various signs of the life and activity that must once have prevailed there. And we saw a man of slouched figure, in butter- nut suit, sJjOvenly and heavily bearded, carrying a scythe on his arm towards the poor, barren meadow, — and he was a Duane! This poor remnant of the great house of Judge Duane bowed gloomily to ns as we passed and gazed curi- ously at him-, and we left him behind. But the scene was far different — so the story went ( and it was afterwards corroliorated by others ) — when the first Duane came. He was dashing, rich, gay, aristocratic, high blooded, and he came like a prince. His progress to his forest estates was a triumphal procession. His house rivalled in luxury the manor of his ancestors, the Livings- tons. The work of hewing down the forest went on bravely under many hands, and the wooded hills resounded Avitli shout and axe-strokes and the rumble of toil. Then came the troops of friends and associates from the east, brave men and fair women, for summer and autumn 84 THE ST. REOIS AND SARANACS. sport. There was feasting and revelry. There was wine and frolic. There was stag-hunting with hound and horn and caparisoned steed. There was, indeed, in this rude American forest, the luxury, gayety, roystering and wild sport of Ijaronial castle and estate in the old world in the old days. The driver told us all this in his homely way, >as he drove on, and said — " and that rough fellow you saw hack there is the last of the Duanes in this neighborhood. " The twenty-five miles were dreadfully drawn out, and long before we reached our journey's end the double dark- ness of the dense woods and the night settled down upon us. The conversation waned, and we were most busily employed in watching our way, as well us we^ could, up and down the hills in the forest, wondering what was ten yards ahead of us, and exercising our faith* in the sharp- sightedness, sagacity and true-footedness of our steeds, and in the experience and watchfulness of our driver. At one time, as we were plunging in the darkness down a hill, there was a shake and a shock as of a railroad collision, and everything came instantly to a stand-still. Our driver shot out of the wagon over a front wheel as if propelled by a cannon, while we, wedged in by the seats and the luggage, found ourselves most unceremoniously huddled, in a most miscellaneous way, in the bottom of the wagon. A recon- noissance discovered to us that no serious damage was done, although the driver complained of a bruised shoul- der, upon which he had very suddenly alighted. Nothing but a small, stubborn stump projecting into the road STUMPS AND DUMPS. — FULLER's. 85 was the occasiou of this uncomfortable cominotioD, but it was enoui^h to make us all doubl}^ strain our e3^es the remainder of the journej^ in watching for further offending stumps. We were glad and tired, when, at ten o'clock, we drew up at a little log-house, all in darkness, on a lake shore, and the driver shouted in cheerful accents, "Here we are!" We were just in time, too, for in a few minutes the rain poured down upon the roof in torrents, and the night took on an inkier l)lackness. Our host, Fuller, speedil}' provided supper for his hungry guests, and without much ado we climbed up stairs and into our comfortable beds. CHAPTER VIII. The morning- came, briiilil and fresh, and i)re8ented us in excellent condition and spirits. We found th:jt we had descended upon a delightful vvildei'ness home, ui)on the northern shore of Meacham Lake, — a body of water stretch- ing one and a half miles southward, and one and a half miles in width, surrounded on ev^ery side by prime- val forests, and on nearly every side by mountains. The little log-hotel in which we had slept and eaten faced toward the water, and across its front ran a rude, ample verandah; while behind it was a small clearing where the household vegetables struggled, under inhospitable condi- tions, to meet the modest expectations of their cultivator, and where, under the 3^earning gaze of J'uller's excessivel}" stead}'^ span of horses and a very mild cow, a small field of diminutive oats was ripening and the thin gho.st of a ha}' crop was maturing. On the east, a few feet distant, was the older log-house, which once served as the only dwelling, and where under former auspices and administi-ations there had been wild times of sport and carousal. It was now simply the " guide- house, " and also contained Fuller's little shop where a rod or a gun could be repaired as neatly as skill and a tine set of implements could do it. It was also the general meeting- place of the sportsmen and male tourists. On the racks MEACIIAM LAKE. — FULLER's. 87 and nails and pegs Avere hung guns, rods, fish-baskets, landhig-nets, powder-flasks, shot-pouches and rubber boots and coats, — indeed, about everything one could think of as ever going into the woods; while up stairs was the one large sleeping apartment of the guides. On the other side of the "hotel " was a new fi-a me -dwell ing, " for geiitlenu'ii accomjianied l)y ladies. " in accord- ance with a law of civilization which always has the approbation of the fortunate monopolists, Itut wliich inevi- tably strikes the uncomfortable excluded as an invidious distinction not consistent with the broad application of the principle underlying female suffrage. The Editor and I, belonging for the time to the excluded, were only able to saj" that the building looked like a com- fortable sort of barracks, and we endeavored to persuade ourselves that our own snug (juarters under the sharp- IMtched roof of the log-house nnist be more comfortable and cozy than anything foimd in the more modern and preten- tions structure. A rambling and well V(>ntilated log-l)arn and stable in the rear, a log pen for the hungry and restless deer-hounds, and a wood-pile conunensurate in size with the length of the Avin- tersand thedeptli of the snow in this region, — both of which Fuller was accustomed to meet, endure and facedown, all alone, with his personal pluck and presence, — comi)leted the picture. As it happened, for a few days we four were the only guests occupying the log house, while two or three families from New York and Brookl3'n, including nurses and several 88 THE ST. REGIS AND SAKANACS. children just graduated from their cradles, were occupy- ing the more modern building. The gentlemen had waxed rich, l)ut had not ceased to delight in the experiences of forest, lake and river. A young felloAv of the party, in the flush of his first fronting season in the wilderness, contrib- uted his robust enthusiasm and lull flow of luddy spirits to our enjoyment. At the guide house were several men, hired by Fuller for the season to act as guides and l)()atnien for his guests when re(piired; whil(> here, also, was "Jimmy, " the Irish lad of all woi-k, an indescribabl}' funny fellow and as full of genuine Irish wit and humor as an egii; is of meat. So much we saw and learned as we stretched our legs along the grassy slope in front of the houses, lounged under the breezy pines, and explored our surrovmdiugs, in the morning hours. Taking 1)oats and guides we went to the south end of the lake, wlieie the stream fi'om Osgood Pond enters, looks down the lake, and, turning hastily to the west, departs again with hardly an effort at forming an acquaintance with the beautiful lake to which it has contributed, — the stream becoming at its exit the east branch of the St. Regis River, and in due time emptying into the St. Lawrence. We descended this outlet to the head of the rapids, walked around them to a l)ridge on the road leading from Fuller's to I^aul Smith's on St. Regis Lake, and there vvet our lines and tried our luck for the first. A pleasant forenoon was thus passed, and we returned to the house for dinner. In the afternoon, we again went to the inlet and to the PROGKAMME. — FISHING. — "LAST MAY." 89 outlet, both of which we fished faithfully, but with indiff- erent success. We had, however, made the acquaintance of a pretty lake, and a charniing bit of rapids below the bridge, and were content. That evening, as we were assembled in the "guide- house, " we discussed plans for future exploits and expedi- tions. Even in the easy-going, half-indolent vacation mood one feels the need of a programme. We construct a plan of operations, seat ourselves in it, as in a boat, have faith, and lazily wait for strong arms to row us along. It is a comfort to feel that we have proceeded in a business-like way, even in our recreation; and our conscience commends us much as wiien we liave taken out a life insurance policy, and so, like a 2,ood citizen, liave done the propei- thing for our family. On this occasion, we consulted our worthy host and the brown and shaggy oracles about us, for information as to the best fishing resorts and how to reach them. "There's the inlet and the outlet," said Fuller, "and the rapids below the bridge. " " But we tried them faithfully to-day," interrupted the Editor, "and, I must confess, with some disappointment. " "Well, last May bushels of trout were taken there, " was the answer. "It isn't May now, " retorted tlie Editor, " and I imagine the ti'out are off on their summer vacation. " It was just dawning upon our comprehension that the landlord of a forest hotel, however clever a fellow, was not likely to voluntarily recommend fishing resorts much beyond 90 THE ST. REGIS AND SAEANACS. the sound of his diiiuer-horu ; so I interjected the query, " How is tisliing down at Paul Smith's ? " " Oh, Avell, " answered Fuller, doubtless anticipatin,^' the next question would relate to modes of conveyance, "you don't need to go there for trout. Osgood Pond, this side of Paul's, is better than anything he can show you, and you can make a day's journey there from here and get all the trout you want. Start early in the morning, boat it up the inlet, take your baskets full of trout, and come back. " And we went to bed on that programnu". The next morning we were up bright and early, and bus- tled around as if there was a twelve o'clock edition of an afternoon paper to get out, or an important lawsuit to be called at the opening of court. But, for reasons not then quite apparent to us, nobody else hurried; our landlord was easy and quiet; our guides found a world of important affairs to attend to before starting; and the nu)rning was well advanced before we four and our boatmen were off and away to Osgood Pond. Our little flotilla moved gail}^ down the lake. The strong- armed oarsmen, witli well-seasoned backs, swe])t the wave- lets with even strokes, and thescnsation of deliciouscomfort and ease we experienced, as we were borne alojig without effort over the li(|uid surface, was something to remember. TheCaslleof Indolencehas notliing toetpialit initsentirely respecta))le and righteous la/Jness. At the iidet— the river from Osgood Pond — we entered upon a sluggish, winding, alder fringed stream, which, for utter silence, weird loneliness and an interest all its own, UP THE INLET. — NAUGHTY GUIDES. 91 could not be surpassed. So]nel)ody suggested fishing, — and nobody objecting, four rods were jointed and rigged, and four leaders with their delicate flies were launched forth. Tiien on we went, and on, with logs here and there disput- ing our passage, until dinner time, when we landed at "Hog's Back, "near McColhun's clearing, where a little cool stream comes into the main river. We l)uilt a th'e, roasted the ti'out we had taken, opened our baskets and feasted in a rudimen- tary way with tlie woodsman's keen appetite and zest. Again we proceeded on our way up stream, the crooked- ness and the snags and logs increasing every moment. It was all so strange and primitively wild that the difficulties of our progress were scarcely observed but to be enjoyed, and we were unconscious that the day was declining and that it was impossible for us to reach Osgood Pond before nightfall. Our most excellent hypocrites, the hotel guides, knew that before we started, but we had been left in bliss- ful ignorance. A thunderstorm broke upon us. We drew our boats up on the shore and sought the shelter of the trees. At first thej^ protected us admirabl}^ but after a time the leaks in the leaf}" roofs became uncomfortably numerous. Starting a "smudge," we made ourselves as jolly as possible, and speedily the storm, after the fashion in the Adirondacks, passed along. And now we discovered, upon consulting our guides and our watches, the ignominious fact that Osgood Pond was out of the question. AYhen we came to know good and 92 THE ST. EEGIS AND SAEANACS. evil, there was suppressed wrath in our hearts. We were victims, — we had been duped, — we Avere long-eared ani- mals. But we had enough sense left to order a retreat, and returned to the house as rapidly as possible — our guides displaying a master}'^ of the art of rowing, on our return, which, with excessive modesty on their part, had l)een concealed from us until then. This honest tale of fisherman's luck is told for llie sake of the dual moral which it conveys, — namely, as a rule, don't trust tlie word of a Boniface of the woods as to where the good fishing is, if it happens to be beyond the range of his dinner-horn, and dont em])lo3' a "hotel guide " if you can help it. The " independent guides " have a reputation to make and keep, and their emplo3"ment depends upon that; but a man paid 1)}" a hotel keeper so much for the season, prefers whittling under the wood-shed to rowing and rough- ing it, for the same money. Our two New York friends had enough of that sort of delusion, and departed in high dudgeon the next morning for Paul Smith's. The Editor and I remained, resolved, in spite of our chagrin and disgust, to (est still further the possibilities of the fishing, and to enjoy at least the charm- ing scenery. (H AFTER IX. A few clays after, taking two of the best guides, " Chris." and Halsey, we made an expedition down the outlet to the Still-water. Providing ourselves with two daj's' provisions, guns and fishing tackle, we set forth with a faith and ex- pectancy quite childlike in its simplicity, considering our recent experience. Rowing down the outlet to the I'apids we left our boats, shouldered our packs, and made the carry of a mile and a half or more below the rapids, where we found two other boats which we speedily converted to our own use. We had reached the Still-water, which extends (Avith the exception of one-fourth of a mile of rapids) six or seven miles, and into which flow many small, cold streams. At the mouths of these the trout congregate in the mouths of Jidy and August, when they greedily take the fly. AVe had come upon a charming region. Our descent down the river on that quiet, peaceful July day revealed to us the true beauties of the Adirondacks. Success rewarded our fishing, and many a hungry trout leaped up to our flies as they hovered an instant and then settled upon the water where the cool brooks entered the main stream. One hardlj" knew which delight to choose — the gaze upon the winding river and forest shores, or the skillful cast, and the leap, play and capture of the gamy trout. To tell the truth, we 94 THE ST. TIEGIS AND SAKANACS. chose botli, and witli siioh al)sorbing interest that it was well into the afternoon before we songht a mossy bank, under shady trees, by a cool spring, and dined. The guides respected our hunger, and the beautiful trout curled and browned before the fire until they were food fit for a Roman Emperor. A spring bubl)led at our feet, the merciful snuidge s1;irtled and awed the vengefijl, winged hosts that gathered to dine on us, we ate our fill, and then the aroma of the pii)e, — the hunter's solace and tlie fisher- man's comfort, — mingled its fragrance with, the breath of spruce and balsam and the moss}' bank on which we reclined. There are days, — and there are days. This was of the sort to be looked forward to, enjoyed like choicest friendship, and remembered like strains of music that go to the heart. Again we were on the water,, tloatiug down the river and enticing the river's game as before. The evening approach- ed. The guides took one of the boats and went a little way up-stream to build a camp for the night, leaving us in the other boat to fish at our leisure. Suddenly the sky dark- ened, and we discovered the approach of a thun'der-storm, black and savage. We hastened up the river to find ovn- camp, and in a little bay, or inlet, saw the boat of our guides, pulled our own on shore, turned it over, and bestowed our luggage under it to keep it dry. Drawing on our rubber coats, just as the big rain-drops began to descend, we hurried up to the thick growth of small spruces, where our guides were working with might and main to build a brush camp. The rain came down in STILL-WATER. — A FLOODED CAMP. 95 sheets, in torrents, in floods, — descended without method, — deluged US; while we for a time sought protection under the dripping branches of our half-completed shelter. The trees trickled and then poured water and were full of show- ers; the moss under our feet was like a saturated sponge, oozy wet; there was not a dry stick or limb for a tire, — not even the lee-side of a big tree for shelter, — " water, water, everywiiere, " and not the slightest susiiicion that there would ever again be a dry place in tiiat region. We stood about in our slouched hats and rul)ber coats, as helpless, bedraggled and dispirited as ever did a conununity ol" barn- yard fowls in an autunmal rain. The night was near at hand. The pre-sing questions were: when Avill this flood cease? where shall we sleep and what shall be our bed? how shall we kindle a fire in this drowned and water-soaked forest ? The Editor is a man of keen pei-ceptious and quick deci- sion. After a word witli me, he said: " Bo3's, how far is if to Fullei'sV" "Ten miles — rapids, carries and all. " Going to rain all night V " " Guess so. " "Can you take us through and home in the dark y" "That we can;" — and it was Chris. Crandall who s[)oke, the most noted guide of the region, — t;dl, bony, shaggy, o iie-lff/^/r (I and ns'inix a crutch and cane, rude and rough, but with a C(mimanding intellect that made him the favor- ite hunter and guide of all that i)art of the wilderness, and- his word law with all his associates. 96 THE ST. REGIS AND SARANACS. "Then we'll go; " — and in the pouring rain we stowed our luggage and ourselves into the boats, and started on our toilsome way up-stream in search of a roof and a dry bed. Still the rain poured, as we proceeded up the river to the rapids, down which we had bumped and thumped, Init up which there was to be some vigorous tugging. The Editor has a manly form that holds a wagon-seat down lirmly, ballasts a boat satisfactorily, and affords an exhaustive test of the honest materials and workmanship of Fairbanks' scales. It accorded witli the fitness of things that on this occasion Chris., into whose two arms had gone the strength of the lost leg, should be his oarsman, while the tough, wiry little Halsey should row his slim and thin companion. But at the rapids, Chris, was at a disadvantage. He could tramp through tlie forest with the best of us. He could carry a small pack on his back. He could leap a log with his crutch and cane and one leg where our two legs faltered, — but he couldn't wade up rapids among the rocks and swirls, in a thunder-storm, and at the same time drag a l)oat behind him. The Editor could, and he did. Ensconced in a huge, black rubber coat and under a broad-brimmed, sloiich-hat, he preserved a semblance of dryness and comfort in the upper story, but the basement was hopelessly damp. With a ropc! over his shoulder he did good mule-power work at towing the boat, as he picked his way among the hidden rocks, and splashed and pitched and stumbled his devious coiu'se up the rapids, — following, it is true, the lead of Chris., who forged ahead like a locomotive under full UP THE RAPIDS. — THE EDITOR. — CIIRFS.'s JOKES. 97 steam. Meainvhile. the slim passenger was reaping the benefit of thinness and conservative avoirdupois; for Hal - sey insisted on seating him on the higgage in the middle of the boat, "to keep it dr}'" he said, Avhile he, the kind-hearted little fellow, pushed and pulled the boat up-stream. How- ever, the situation was onl}' moistlj^ satisfactory, for the rain let down fearfully, but didn't let up a bit. The Editor, half the time up to his knees in the water beneath, while the waters above poured in stretuns from hat and coat, looked back appreciatively upon the triumphal progress T was making; — and 1 saw through the rain, by the humor in his vye and the comed^y all o\'er his face, that he fully comprehended both the hiuiiidity and the humor of the situation And Chris., — it Avas rough coined)' for his one leg and crutch and cane. He couldn't even contemplate the satis- faction there would be in telling the story of this tramp up the rapids, — it Avould be such an old storj'. Yet he could joke, even in the river, among the rocks and pouring rain, — but such jokes! They were Titanic, — belching like a volcano, — the thumps of Thor's hammer, — thunderous,— and I am sorry to say, in connection with this sweet picture, profane as the Devil — or Prometheus, if he sAvore. It Avas apparent that Chris., after all, jireferred (by land for his one leg to tramp on, and that it Avas not so much consola- tion as the mathematics of the ca.se Avould suggest, that in Avading he only Avet one foot while other men must Avet two. But it was over at last, — this passage up the rapids, — and 98 THE ST. REOTS AND SARANACS. we swimg along- up the Still- Water agaiu, by legitimate methods of water-travel, content, even, to let it rain, if we could only have tlie water smootli ns well as wet. As we proceeded, my boat l)eing in advance, we saw a deer standing, broadside towards us, in the sliallow water at the margin of the stream, and looking intentl}' at us. Hal- sey seized the gun, which lay by his side, aimed, nulled the trigger, and the cap(sutl"ering from the general dei)ression and damimess) snapped. Whereat the deer leisurely walked out of the stream, daintily lifting his feet out of the water as he went, and disappeared in the thiclc underbrush. I was mortilied that our apjiearance ins]>ired no more terror in the beast, and felt that it was not even beastly- compli- mentar}^ Halsey fumljled in his vest-pocket for a fresh cap, while the deer was walking off, l)ut was at least ludf a minute too late in preparing his weapon for discharge. I have no doubt a deer, if consulted, would reconunend all hunters to use a muzzle-loader. Scarcely fifteen minutes had elapsed before we s:nv another deer feeding in the water. It seemed a good day for deer. The rain had just ceased and the last rays of the setting sun were slanting up-stream. AVe were out of range, and Halsey leveling his gun took good aim, Avhile I, in a highly excited state of mind, seated in the stern of the boat, i>a(l(lled, pushed and somehow advanced eiglit or ten rods to, almost, within ten rods of the deer. He looked up, and, conscious I have no doubl that a dry cap had l)eeu put upon the gim, or perhaps imagining that oiu- generally- bedraggled appearance was only a blind and that we were A SHOT AT A BEER. " TT's MTGTITY QUEER." 99 after all valiant and dang-erous, leisurely turned to depart. At that instant Halsey pulled the trigaer and the old muz- zle-loader roared and vollej-ed like a round half dozen thunder-bolts. There was a great splashing and dashing of water for a moment. We thought the lively animal was down and that all we now li:ul to do was to advance in good ortler and pick up our game. But as the smoke lifted we saw, to our dismay, the creature spring ashore with two or three vigorous bounds and disappear. Scarcelj'' had we realized what had occurred, when, a few rods above, this deer or another ran across the stream to the op- posite shore and plunged into the thicket. " Great guns!" said I, "Halsey, is this country' full of deer? " "Well, I can't say about that," replied he, "but I do think what there are of 'em are about the li^'eliest fellows I ever did see! Ju.st think of it, now! This old gun was loaded with buck-shot to kill. That chap must have got some of "em under his skin. I wouldn't have given ten cents to be insured on him — I'd 'ave bet my last dollar that he was mine. And to think that in less than a minute he or another fellow hove in sight! It's mighty queer." And the guide relapsed into a mournful, meditative silence. Chris, now approached and insisted that he had plainl}^ seen /the buck-shot strike tlie water, falling short of the aim, and that these caused the splashing and not the deer. How- ever, both guides went ashore and searched for l)lood, but it was now growing dark and if there were such traces they were unable to discover them. 100 THE ST. REGIS AND SARANACS. The truth of history requires me to add that before we reached the loug cany, the Editor and Chris, saw still another deer, and that after we had taken our l)oats above the bridge and before we reached the lake, in tlie darkness, we drove out two more that "whistled " and tied awa3\ — making five or six that we saw or heard thntevening. No- body in the region was able to inform me whether any lone and solitary boatman had ever been attacked anfl trampled to death by these wandering herds. It is well, however, to go down that river well armed. Soon after the deer's adventure with us, (it didn't exactly seem to be our adventure, under the circumstances,) we came to a shingle-maker's deserted, little l)ark shanty. In the fast waning light we went ashore, and while lunching stretclied our weary limbs in the onlj' dr}-^ j^lace we had seen since the storm broke upon us. We left our bag of potatoes and some other provisions, for the next part}^ that might make an expedition here. The old woodsmen are accustomed to make these imi)romptu cacJux, and invariably, when reaching a deserted camp, hunt about to tind some- thing that maj' have been left bj^ any party preceding them. A half- peck of potatoes is always an acceptable "tind," and a few lemons are gratefully appreciated, while a piece of fat pork hid under the bark-roof is not despised. Genuine food in the wilderness, with the nearest provision store twenty miles awa^', and the stock on hand reduced to low ebb, is prized like water in the desert. When we started out for our long tramp over the carry it was dark on the river, but the forest was blackness itself. HUNTING A TRAIL IN THE DAEK. 101 while the occasiouMlly renewed rain-fall added to the general unpleasantness of the situation. We pushed, as we thought, for the trail. After struggling through underbrush and fallen trees awhile Chris, hesitated, went this way and that, while we stood still awaiting developments. He finally said, •' I don't believe I know^ where that path is!" Then he plunged — one leg, crutch, cane and all — into the deeper darkness, and we followed as well as we could, looking hither and thither for some sign of a trail. Then we halted. Even the valiant and skilful old woodsman, of many years' experience, was evidently lost. I ventured to suggest that the shanty was at least dry and would make us comfort- able until morning. "I don't believe we can tind that, now," said Chris. ; "I'm blamed if I haven't lost all my reckoning, it's so confounded dark. I'll make one more trial, and if I don't strike the trail we'll get back to the river, somehow, and hunt up the shanty and wait for day-light. Just stand still, all of you, while I make a circuit around here. When I call, you answer me, so's I can tell where I'm going to." We stood as directed, and the veteran disappeared. For a time we heard him crashing through the underljrush and fallen liml)s, and swearing away to his heart's content, until he passed out of hearing. We waited several minutes to hear his call, but pride in his woodcraft restrained him, or his not altogether reverent soliloquy pre-occupied him. Fearing he would wander oft" beyond the sound of our voices, we called and called again, but no response came. We were really tdarmed for his safety. 102 THE ST. EEGIS AND SARANACS. But finally, at a good round distance, we heard his gruff voice, raised to a high key, shouting, "Here's the road! Come over here! " We responded as quickly as we could, following his voice as he occasionally called, and at length found the trail. Halsey lighted up the jack, — I don't know why he didn't do so before, — which enahled us to see oin- path. From this time on, until we reached our boats, away we went, Chris, leading the procession and Halsey with the jack immediately after, at a break-neck pace. Chris, walked as if he had four legs, and we, with only a pair apiece, found difficulty in keeping up Avitli him. It was eleven o'clock at night when we reached the Meacham Lake House, — wet, pretty cold from our ride on the lake, thoroughly tired, — but with a dry bed to sleep in, and a roof to cover us — two things which sundry forest experiences have taught me to highly prize. There is glory in "roughing it," but there is a vast deal of comfort, when night comes, in having some place to lay your head where the rain comes not, and the waters do not break through and dampen. When we came to think of it by day-light, in dry clothes, and our joints limbered up, we rejoiced that we had seen Still-water, the pleasant, winding river, and the forest scenery, — common enough in the Adirondacks, but ever new and ever enticing to the lover of untamed nature. Not the least of its attractiveness lies in the fact that it is out of the 1)eaten path in the wilderness, and of the flow- ing tides of tourists who annually pour through the popular thoroughfares of the great forest, and pass by and leave this secluded stream to the adventurous sportsman. CHAPTER X. One day our hostess dimly saw the bottom of the tlour Ijarrel. Fuller's steeds, — having a vouched-for record of three and a hnlT miles an hour, — were harnessed up, and " Jimmy," the Irisii lad, was given the ribbons and a lengthy memorandum, with orders to proceed to JMalone with all dispatch that day, and to return the next witli edibles and edibles. The Editor, mindful of his sanctum, and with visions before his ej^es of the irate subscriber who should demand that his paper be stopped if the editors were ail going a-tishing, seized this opportunity and dei)arted from the wilderness. 1 remained. I luid had a little controversy with my doc- tor who ordered me out of town and into the woods. I had been informed that I possessed " vocal chords, " — and that a month in the Adirondacks would restore their wonted, harmonious vibrations. If you have "vocal chords, " it is best to get rid of them, or, as I did, go a-fishing and forget them for good and all. However, as the Editor departed, I put on metaphorical widow's weeds for the space of an entire day and then warmed over my affections and fixed them firmly upon a younger and a handsomer, — the Young- Man from Brooklyn. The days went on with quiet lounging on the grass under the pine trees in front of the house, the pretty lake in full .104 THE ar. REGIS AND SARANACS. view; or, with tramps to little gems of lakes hid in the for- est within eas}' distance. One day we cleared a path through the nnderbrnsh to a bluff on the lake-shore, and on a mossy -grassy spot erected a tent under the trees, which became a great resort for the ladies and the toddling wee ones. There was famous rifle-shooting at sundry bottles put upon a stake out in the lake. A morning surprise came now and then, as a fat buck hung upon a limb near the house, the result of the night's jack-hunting. Fishing par- ties and tourists were coming and going, l)ringing and carrying out mail. A new sail-boat had to be tested. All together, there was a world of eujoyment of things hardly worthy to tell, but very delightful to do. There liad been, at one time, a notal)le accession to our numbers. The Sherilf of the count}' came, con voy ing a party of schoolma'ams who desired here to divert their minds and restore their freshness during some portion of their vacation. I surrendered my room to the schoolma'ams, and temporaril}' took another on the ground floor with the Sheriff as my room-mate. That personage was a bachelor, l)ut exceedingly thin, as if the cares of a large family had worn him down, or his ancestors on the May- flower had contracted constitutional and ineradicable dyspepsia on the long voyage to Plymouth Rock. He looked all the thinner for being very tall and having high cheek-bones, a long neck, and a preponderating Adam's apple. On a Sunday morning, two oi- three days after the new arrangement was inaugurated, when I arose, — the spirit of SHAVING THE SHEKTFP. 105 civilization in me stimulated l)y the presence, in the imme- diate neighborhood, of the schoolma'ams, — I faithfullj^ applied the razor to my own not excessively rounded face. The Sheriff, sitting on the edge of the bed, thoughtfully engaged in pulling on his stockings, watched the operation with interest. Then I saw, by the reflection in the diminu- tive mirror, that he rubbed his chin and hollow cheeks and looked for a moment meditatively down upon the piece of rag-c;iri)et at his feet. " I wish I was shaved, " he at length said, in a melan- chol} tone, and added despairingly, " but 1 never shaved m3\self in all my life, and I don't suppose there is anybody here that could shave me. " Something in the sad face — perhaps it was its grizzliness — moved me, and 1 cheering]}" remarked : "Oh, it isn't very difficult; I think you can do it; and you are welcome to the use of ui}- razor, if you want to try. " " No, I never can, — I should l)e sure to cut myself all to pieces;" and the Sheriff sighed as he rubbed his rhin again, and felt that it was wholly unpresentable, and remembered that it was Sunday, and the schoolma'ams would meet him at the breakfast table. There was a long pause. Then he looked piteous! y up at me, as I was adjusting my necktie, and hesitatingly said : "If it wouldn't be asking too much, would 30U — might I ask you — do you suppose you could shave me ? " "Well, " said I, "I suppose I can try; but I'm awfully 106 THE ST, REGIS AND SARANACS. afraid I'll make a l)ad jol) of it; and I mio-lit cut you hor- ribly. " With a sio'h of comminoied desperation and relief, the Sheriff replied : "If 3^ou'll try it, I'll take the risk. " With a face that had to be kept long-, because it twitched with suppressed lauohter, I proceeded to the tonsorial task. I planted him in a chair squarely before the window, lath- ered his face until the whole rugged surface looked like a meringue ; and girding myself for the labor not put down as one of the labors of Hercules, I seized his nose in the most approved fashion— and scraped. My victim winced. "Does it hurt ?" " Some— but go on — I can stand it. " I scraped again, and the blood oozed through the sallow skin. " I have to bear on, you see, " I said, " for this razor isn't in the best order. " "Go ahead! " came through the shut teeth. Whether the Sheriff was pale or not, I couldn't see, for the lather. And whether the eyes were blood-shot did not appear, for they were closed in determined resignation. I found I was in for it, and worked away with might and main. There were few more words,— the time for them was passed. I scraped again and again, and the blood oozed from every freshly-shaven surface. It was my turn to be desperate. Suppose I should utterly ruin the Sheri£e's face! What if I made him totally unpresentable for a week! This was no Jericho where he could tarry SHAVING THE SHERIFF. 107 until his beard should grow, for the schoolma'ams were here! And then came the temptation to make a slash or two at the Adam's apple and end the whole business. I was becoming nervous, and my whole body was cpiivering Avitli suppressed nervous laughter. I wanted to scream and throw the razor out of the window, and jump" out after it. " For Heaven's sake, go on, get through! " groaned the Sheriff. That broke the spell, and I fell to work again with more coolness. I reached the hollow cheeks; I had carefully gone over the sliar[) chin, the long jaw-bones, and high cheek-bones, — leaving my "mark," it is true, here and there well cut in, — with tolerable success, from my point of view, and considering my education and opportunities in the businesss. But now I had come to the most critical piece of work before me. How to go down into the hol- lows with a straight- bladed instrument witli an awkward handle like a razor's, nearly posed me. I meditated thrust- ing my fingers into the Sheriff's cheeks to plump tlieiu out, but was afraid he was by this time mad enough t(^ bite me, or that I might cut through and slash my own fingers. I can't to tliis day quite imagine how I accomplished it, but I did somehow, shave out the hollows, with only a few small slices being taken off on the surrounding ridges. I suppose in times of great excitement or danger we are ins[)ir- ed to our Ijest, and no subsequent effort of memory can recall precisely the mental processes of those moments of inspired activity. That is my case exactly in regard to that last and supreme effort in shaving the Sheriff. 108 THE ST. REGIS AND SAEANACS. I finished. Applying a damp towel to the scene of my activities, my work in all its sciilpturescjue effects was revealed to my gaze. I trembled as I thought of the inevi- table moment when it shoidd ])v revealed by the mirror to the Sheriff himself. "There! its done, — and done just as well as I know liow! " said I, with a carefully tempered tone of, self- vindi- cation. "Oh!" sighed the Sheriff, as he opened his eyes, lifted his hand to his face, and gazed into the nnrror, — "but I — I thank you! " That was the oidy time I ever shaved a Sheriff. CIIAPTETJ XI. On the whole. Fuller's furnished a variet}' of entertain- ment, and was enjoyable. But the most delightful of plaees and the most charming of experiences become monotonous after a time, and, a favorable opportunity offering, one day I joined a party of ladies and gentlemen and departed from Meacham Lake to Paul Smitirs. Our flotilla of boats went down the lake to the rapids, we walked to the bridge, and there were met li}- teams sent up from Smith's. The ride through the woods was rather rough, but reason- ably comfortal)le foi- a wood's road, until we reached " Burnt Ground, " where the road became excellent. Here was a large, tree-less, stump-less section of severiU hundred acres, supposed to have been swept bj^ fire at some period long past. A feeble settlement of a dozen or fifteen fam- ilies maintains the struggle for existenc-e in the centre of this tract, the men cultivating a few acres of the sand}' soil, hunting, trapping and fishing, and, as occasion offers, act- ing as guides for sport.smen among the little lakes that lie in clu.sters on every side in the forest. The notal)le man of this out-of-the-world hamlet is A. C. McCollum. a kindly old gentleman who came hither from the great world out- side, after a succession of domestic bereavements which almost broke his heart, but left him even more kindly and ffeutle than before. Little bare-footed children were run- 110 THE ST. REGIS AND SARANACS. ning about upon the stunted grass, or peering at us from beliind their nuxk^st motliers in the doorways, as we passed, Avliile the huml)le sehool-liouse gave evidence that even here the Anun-ican idea of education was not forgotten. The men looked lionest and sincere, but sad, I thought, as if, after all, this life of poverty' and seclusion was far from satisfying. Passing this peculiar and excei)tional feature of the wil- derness, we were again among the trees, climbing and descending hills where the forest growth was sparse, or in the midst of heavy timber, — sometimes crossing streams, and skirting lakelets and the more andjitious waters, Osgood Pond and Barnum's Pond. At one point we came upon a group of tall Norway spruces that looked like importations indeed. At anotlier, we passed the borders of a tamarack swamp, notable as the place where many a deer had been stealthily hunted and shot. In the sandy road-wa}' we saw the fresh, clear-cut tracks of a doe and hvv fawn. Suddenl}', among the trees appeared a telegrapli pole, and another, and a single wire stretclied l)etween, and we wheeled into a travel-worn road along which the telegrai>h line ran, — the most startling symbol of civilization that one could come ui)on in the wilderness. We followed this line a mile or less, and drew up in front of a spacious and im- posing hotel. — Paul Smith's. . Had this droj^ped, a ])alace, from the skies? Were we waking, or dreaming!'' Whence came all these fastidiousl}- dressed men and women and children? The entire picture presented was a marvel to one for many days a dweller at the quiet little log-house on PAUL SMITH S. Ill Meacliam Lake, and accustomed to eveuings at tiie rude guide-house. " Paul Smith's" is familiar to thousands of summer tour- ists Avho " take it in " along with Newport, Long Branch and Saratoga, as well as to those veterans of the angle and the hunt, who for many years have annually resorted liither, making this tlie base from which to project excursions into the deeper wildei'ness, there to dwell in camj) and tent and pursue in solitude the pleasures of the pathless woods, the limpid lakes and winding streams. The hotel stands uiion a blutf looking southward out u])on Lower St. Regis Lake, ueyond which lie Spitfire and Upper St. Regis. It is a long, four-storj^ wooden edifice, with a broad verandah along its entire front, and capable of accommodating a liimdred guests. The guide-house, on the shore of the lake and to the right, is a long; two-story frame building, used below for housing seventy-five to one hundred trim, light ;uul shapely boats. Above it is con- verted into sleeping and living rooms for the guides engaged by Mr. Smith for the season. A bowling-alley still further awa3\ and frame barns, shops and an ice-house comi)lete this realh' remarkable hostelry and its appurtenances. An excellent road, traversed daily by a stage-coach, leads out by way of Bloomingdale and Ausable Forks to the rail-road terminus at Point of Rocks, whence the tourist journe3^s by rail to Plattsl»urg and whither he will. Tlie "click" of the telegrai>h, in the hotel-ottice, assures you that you are no lonoer cut off from mankind, and you suddenly 113 THE ST. REGIS AND SARANACS. come to realize that you may forthwith, if you will, have a chat with j^our wife aud babies at home. Somethinii' else comes to you.— knowledge of good aud evil — as to j^our attire. After weeks of life out of the reach of dail}" mails and the instantaneous telegram, you have become as unconscious of your outer covering as a tortoise is of his shell. It fit'^ and protects you, and what more is to be desired? The first five minutes over, at Paul Smith's, and in the i^rivacy of your room, you dive into j'our knap- sack for the fig-leaves. Alas, you have become conscious ; your freedom is gone; you have in elfect come back to town; and Tom. Dick and Harry salute you on the street, and you know that they know whether you are " dressed" or not. For the hour, the genuine, careless joy of the woodsman in you is dead. When evening comes at Paul Smith's, the long parlor is l)ri]liantly lighted. At the piano is seated a lady in elegant summer costume, and at her masterful touch the rich tones rise and swell and sink and die away in music. B}^ her side, turning the sheets, as she plays, stand men of fault- less attire and foreign speech. Ladies and gentlemen walk up and down the room, and pretty children, fastidiously dressed, romp and frolic with the irrepressible freedom of childhood. There are social games, sober family gatherings and flir- tations in the nooks and corners, and in the office letter- wi'iting and newspaper reading. Tlie fisheniKMi and hunt- ers who came in, from ever}' direction, before tea, in their fancy hunting costumes reappear in Scotch and broadcloth EVENING AT PAUL'S. 113 and linen, only tlR'ir JMown faces revealing to you that they are genuine sportsmen. Meanwhile, the long, broad veranda is crowded willi easy chairs, and the fragrant Havana niingkfs its perfume with the aroma of balsam and spruce and pine floating ever in over the cooling waters of the St. Regis. Here is a knot of respectful and credulous listeners assembled around a lotund and enthusiastic Doctor of Divinity from New York, who is telling fishing stories that draw heavily upon tlie faith of his hearers, and of deer-himts in which he figured as the hero, out-Murraying ^furray. But it is vastly inter- esting, for the learned Doctor tells a story well, and you choose to l)elieve that In' is essentially telling tin- honest truth, — as his memory sees it. Other knots of men aie gathered all along the veranda, and their talk is of tlu' woods and lakes and stieanis, of trout and deer. On the grass in front, is a jolly guide playing with a lit- tle child, tossing it up, rolling,' it over on the turf, laughing, and as happy as a fond papa can be; and well he may be happy, for he has this evening just returned with two tour ists, after eleven days' absence, during which he has made the grand circuit to John Brown's Tract l)y one chain of lakes and streams, and returned by another. His wife and a baby, and the end of his hard trii>, have given him joy enough to-night to make u}) for many a backache on the long carries. At? teii o'clock every body goes to bed. It is both the fashion and the inclination. 114 THE ST. REGIS AND SARANACS. " There was one learned old Doctor and Professor from New Haven who interested me very much. He" was quite infirm, and his son, who accompanied him, with filial devo- tion anticipated every want. The brave old man was out early every morning, and, with a guide, rowed around the little rocky peninsula, south easter^^ from the hotel, to the mouth of a cold stream that comes through the tama- racks into the lake not far beyond. There, at the edge of the lily-pads (successors of tliose noted l)y W. C. Prime in his delicious volume, " I Go A-Fishing, " on page 125) he skilfully and patiently cast his flies until he took the one big trout awaiting his morning call, and then returned to the hotel to breakfast and for the (h\r It was something more than a splendid trout that he brought to our view as we met him at the landing. The young heart in the old body,— the genuine enthusiasm of the veteran angler,— the glorification of the gentle art which has soothed and comforted many an aged philoso- pher,—all this he revealed to us, and we wanted to lift the grand old man to our shoulders and bear him in reverent triumph up the ascent. iVnother day, a rol)ust, handsome, middle-aged gentle- man, who they said was a wealthy, hard-working merchant, of New York City, went early in the morning, with his guide, to Osgood Pond. In the early evening they re- tui-ned, the guide bringing, literally, a big back-load of the finest trout I ever saw,— great, splendid fellows, all that the man could comfortably cai-ry. There was admira- tion and rejoicing on all hands, and esi)ecially, among tlie MATTERS AND THINGS AT PAUL'S. 115 ladies. I was delighted that the triumph belonged to this splendid specimen of the robust gentleman whom I had admired for his manl}^ beauty and pure, good face ; and I put his picture by .the side of that of the young-old Doctor, in my memories of Paid Smith's and St. Regis. There is a charming ramble, out among the trees, east of the house, and thence all over the wooded, rock}- penin- sula jutting into the lake. One ma}^ sit and lounge on the rocks at the water's edge and look out upon the lake and see how prettily the l)reezes play with the wavelets; or gaze beyond, and watch the summit of St. Regis Moun- tain, noting what a world of blue there is in the atmos- phere when it rests upon a mountain's brow; or let the eye Avander far and near upon the forest, and dream and dream again of the procession of the centuries that have come and gone, while the forest, ever changing, yet remains ever the same. There are a hundred things one may do, at such a resort as Paul Smith's, besides fishing, that will be both delightful to the tir^d mind and delicious to all the senses. I confess that, while there, I enjoyed these un-sportsmanlike things to the utmost. CHAPTER XII. But, after a time, I lono-ed for some little, adventure. The life I had been leading in the woods, although easy and half indolent, in the main, had put vigor and health in my blood and frame, and I fairly ached to " let myself out," for once, before I should return to the work-a-day life that awaited me outside of the wilderness. The opportunity came, one morning, when a tourist and his guide started out upon the popular excursion to Martin's by way of the Saranacs. They cheei-fully consented that I should accompany them as far as I desired, to return alone wiien I should choose. Selecting a light, trim, Adi- rondack boat, when they set out I followed them, plying the oars with an ease that surprised me. The flabbiness of muscle belonging to the man of sedentary habits had given place to sinewy strength. With swinging stroke we crossed the lower St. Regis Lake, wound and twisted our way through the inlet to Spitfire Pond, and so on to and through Upper St. Regis, to the landing at the foot of the carry to Big Clear Pond. The guide, as we went along, pointed out various lau:l-marks by which I would be en- abled, on my return, to find the streams connecting the dif- ferent lakes,— particularly calling my attention to seven dead pines near the outlet of Upper St. Regis. It would SARANAC EXCURSION. — "SANOEMo's." 117 seem a very easy matter to tind the outlet or inlet of a lake, but it is, in fact, exceedingi}^ diflicult. The hays and coves and points are all delusive, and the stream you seek gener- ally steals in or out obscurely, at some unexpected angle, hardly making a sign of its presence until you are right upon it. I had learned so much before, and now I noted every land-mark closely, conscious that any failure to recall these might result, on my. return, in an all-night's solitary, supperless and tentless bivouac on a mosquito-infested shore. Leaving my boat at the landing, I went over to St. Germain's, on Big Clear Pond, a carry of two miles over which the St. Grcrmain — or, "Sangemo" — boys draw boats and luggage on a rude sled, with a very thin horse. The walk is eas}^ and agreeable through the woods, and quite a relief after sitting long in a boat. The St. Germain family consists phiefl}^ of the father, a little old black-eyed, shock-headed, voluble Canadian-Frenchman, and his wife and three or four grown up boys who look as if they had never been quite tamed. They are great hunters, — and have l)een known to do close shooting, under imagined provocation, at something not properly coming under the head of game, except in a cannibal country. They had several lumgny and whining hounds tied and penned up, but no other wild animals, although a deer or a bear is generally among the few attractions tliey offer to strangers. We were met liere b}^ a party of two gentlemen and two handsome ladies and three or four little children, with their guides, who were on their way from the Saranacs to 4 118 THE ST. ilEGIS AND SARANACS. Paurs. It was a right merry party, and they laughed and chatted and drank St. Gei'niain's "pop-beer" with a charming air of confidence in its integrit}', — as deliglited with every tiling as if they were enjo3'ing an after-theater lunch at Delmonico's. The last we saw of them they were setting off, ladies, children and all, on their two-mile walk over the carry, with light, tripping steps and the merriest laughter, as if walking down the la\yu at home, after tea, for a boat ride on the river. This was not quite the sort of sunshine and romance one would be looking out for on a carry, but it is precisely the thing not uncommon on these forest thoroughfares among the St. Regis and Saranac waters, — a region which has charms of its own for the gentler sex and all others who want to see the woods and waters in their primitive state, with "improvements." The sportsman is crowded, every year, into remoter regions ; but there is room enough for him, and he ought not to grudge some little portion of his realm to beaut}^ and childhood. He must, however, heed the "move on," which the increasing multitudes utter all along his favorite haunts. If he is a seusiljle, generous and gentle-hearted sportsman, he will not grumble at this and talk of "Murray's fools," but will rejoice that it is possible for so manj^ to share with him the forest and its beuetits to health and heart. The unexplored wilderness is close at hand, and it is his if he will but seize it. Let the wife and children joiu'ney over, and enjoy, the favorite old ways, even if their presence frightens the deer to remoter regions and the trout are to be sought in more secluded haunts. UPPER SARANAC LAKE. — COX't^. 119 After a brief rest, I procured another boat. and. still fol- lowing my companions, rowed through Big Clear Pond to the carry leading to the head of the Upper Saranac. This is a "draw-carry" four miles long, a solid road over which both boats and tourists are transported on wagons through the forest. Two or three houses in the midst of small clear- ings are on the shore, and l>y dint of loud hallooing on the part of the guide, before we reached land, we called a man and team to the landing. Again I left my boat, while my companions had theirs loaded upon the wagon, and we all got aboard and proceeded in great state and comfort to the hotel at the head of the Upper Saranac Lake, where we arrived at noon. " Cox's " is a two-story, frame house, much less pretenti ous than Paul Smith's, capable, however, of accommodat- ing sixty guests, which it did the night before our arrival. It is situated in a cleared, grass-grown space, of several acres, — a high and dry, sandy plateau, at least fifteen feet above the level of the lake. The southerly view from the verandah, upon the lake and mountains, south and east, is very fine and impressive, and is deservedly noted. White Face ^Mountain can be seen distinclly, and Mt. Marcy is brought into view" by going down the lake a little distance. The lake is one of the largest in the wilderness. The junior partner of the firm of Cox reside at the hotel long known as "Fenton's. " There is a large ck^aring, of several hundred aeres, on the south side of Beaver Lake, now rapidly returning, for the most part, to a state of natm-e, where a little group of families tind a home and employment in a shabby sort of farming, but principally in liunting, trapping ;rtnd acting as guides. Old C'haimcey Smith, the famous hunter of the region, now nearly eighty years of age, lives here, still feebly following his vocation, but happiest when describ- ing the scenes and relating the exploits of his past life. Fenton himself is a famous hunter, and is. in his way and ])lace, a notable and su[)erior man. Tiiose who have made his house their home, for weeks and months, come to entertain feelings of warm friendship toward him. It is fortunate, indeed, that in so many instances, the proprie- tors of these forest hostelries are men of character and gen- uine refinement beneath the homes|mu garb and plain exterior. This fact makes it doubly agreeable and wholly feasible for entire families to enjoy, together, in the wilder- ness, a summer vacation which bi-ings health and vigor and a knowledge of nature that mingles well with high attain- ments and culture and "exalted privileges" during the remainder of the year. From Fenton's hotel, you look off to the north, down upon Beaver Lake, and across upon heavy forests climljing up the hills that help to form the basin within which the lake lies embowT'red. A w^alk of a few moments doAvn the easy path brings you to the lake itself, where boats aw^ait the use of all guests. BEAVER LAKE AND RIVEIi. 133 Beaver Kiver enters the lake by a succession of rapids and falls, which extend by a winding way a dozen miles up to Wardwcll's, (now Dunbar's,) or Still-water. It knives tlie lake in rapids again, and plunges over pictiu-esque falls, to which the guests of the house make excursions with never-failing interest and delight. At such a resort, the trout are always hunted and chased like a tleeing criminal, but they learii by experience great wisdom and discretion and t(\Mch it to their children; so that, pursued as they are, they maintaiji an existence in fair numbers, and, to a reasonable degree, reward the skillful lisherman. However, tliey seldom leap through the air, straight at the successful sportsman, like Murra^y's ferocious trout, nor attempt that other exi)edient of whirl- ing 'round and 'i-ound the l)oat in a contracting ciix'le, in an effort to twist the tishermairs head off, as Warner felici- tously and veraciously relates. We enjoyed an afteiMioon's excursion down the lake to the outlet. The water w as high and swift, and the Editor had an adventui-e — his boat striking upon a hidden rock — which for a half minute looked entirely unpropitious. It is his luck, however, to always get out of a difficulty in some way, and he still lives, — like the gentleman of color who remarked, with the Avisdom of exiu'rience weighting every word, that he always noticed that if he lived ])y the fourth of July, he lived all the rest of the year! We also, that evening, engaged four guides, procured supplies, and supplemented our outtit for oui' projected trip to and camping at Smith's Lake, forty-eight miles 1^4 THE BEAYER KIVEll WATERS. further into the Avihlerness. In the reprehensible drawing- of h>ts for guides (the "reprehensible " being in the result) I drew John, "tlie Talker." But I forecast my calamity. I was then in blissful ignorance of wliat fnte had awarded me, and will not now antieipale. At four o'clock in ihc morning, we wei-e up and away, on foot, followed bv a te:im of horses conveying our bag- gage,—on our way tlirougli the l\>rest, over a horrid road to " Still-water," or Wardwell's, eleven miles distant. One ordinarily likes better to read of the glories of an early, sum- mer morning, than to actually get up and learn of its exalted beauty experimentally. But if there is ever an unfeigned joy, it is when one ' ' going in, " at the beginning of his vacation, sets out upon a w:dk througli the genuine, uu- qualilied forest, on such a l»right, fresh, dewy morning as was vouchsafed to us. If Fenton's boarders had been awake, they would have witnessed certain caperings and saltations, on the part of our dignified company, during the brief delay before we llnally set out, that would have entirely convinced tiicm that something besides the wine of the air had been iml)ibed. Men off in the woods are, after all, only boys, of a larger growth, let out of school. AVe took lunch in our p'ockcts, not waiting for breakfast, and after an hour or two, finding a mossy bank by a little stream that had wandered but a few stei)s from the spring where it was born, we spread ourselves around, in a free- and-easy and miscellaneous way, and i-eslored the waning freshness of our spirits with hard boiled eggs, sandwiches, and cold water. Then on again we went, up hill and down, wakdwell's. — "when i git time." 135 skirtiug the mud-holes, crossiui;- the small streams, after the usual fashiou on a wild-woods road, until, at the end of four hours we reached Wardwell's. The little log-house on the bluff looked out upon a bay, where the river rests before- undertaking its rugged descent to Beaver Lake, while Twitchell creek comes in at the right, contributing the water of Twitchell Lake, famous for I rout and deer. This seems to be an admirnble point at wliich to st()[), making it a base from which to go daily to many good tishing resorts. But it is "the last house," and few are content to remain here, while the lakes and streams I)eyond are so enticing. We had large and ilelicious trout for our combined breakfast and dinner, but to our queries as to where they camo from, AY:ird well's indefinite reply was, "Oh, we git 'em (h)wn in the basin," — but he didn't. It is a point of honor with the keejier of that house, whoever he happens to "be, never to tell the passer-b}" of the half (h^zen or so excellent fishing places, not an* liour's walk distant; and he is a lucky fellow wlio learns of them, even if he remains there for daj^s together. Wardwell, himself, is a character, and a greater curiosit}^ than anything he can exhibit to the toiu'ist. He gets out his old rifle to show with what he has slain countless deer and knocked over now and then a "painter." But one of tlie sights is loose and is tied on with a leather string. " Why don't you fix that sight, Wardwell?" " Waal," in a long drawl, " I've been thinking on't, and some day when I git time I guess I'll have to go at it." " Time? Don't you have time enough up here?" 136 THE BEAYEK ETA'EK WATERS, "Waal, I g-iiess I dew. but I don't git at it." The roof of his little log-barn had tumbled in. " What's the matter with 3'our roof, AVardwell ? " " Waal, last winter the snow was oneonimon heavy and broke it down." " Why don't you repair it ? " was asked, with a sly wink all around. "Waal, I guess I'll have to git at it sometime — wlien I git time." And so the imiu'rturl)ab]e old man, driven to death in doing notliing, answered all the sly ((uizzing with a like response. Poor old fellow, his wife went craz}- after that, and he removed down to Fenton's, where he will build a hotel if he ever "gits time." He is sueeeeded at Still-water by Dunbar, who is said to be a "s([uare," live man. There was a lively little philosophieal discussion among us, who counted ourselves as prett}' busy men at home, whether, on the wiiole, Wardweil's way of taking the worries and cares of life was not, after all that could be said to the contrary, about as wise as the op})osite extreme. However, I think the enforced delay in our departure from his house gave the vastly preponderating majority of our party a bias against Wardweil's mode of doing business. Beaver River, above Wardweil's to Alban3^ Lake, is principally still-water. That usually means crookedness. When a river is not in a hurry, it wanders all about the country in a dazed, aimless \va3^ as if it had lost sight of the principle of gravitation, and didn't know enough to run anywhere if there is no hill to run down. Beaver River, A CROOKED BHER AND DIZZY SUN. 137 at any rate, seems to be greatly confused, seeking now this side, and then that, of the l)road valley through which it winds, doubling back upon itself at almost every turn as if to see if the rest of the water was coming along all right. If there is one thing it fully imderstands, it is the principle of the loop, in all its possible variety. It makes more dis- tance in a shorter direct advance than any other stream I know of. Of course, it takes a good deal of time for a river to do any business in this way; and it was unani mously voted that Beaver River was either the progenitor of Wardwell, or that Wardwell was at least the god-father of the river. We never could quite settle that little ques- tion— we didn't "git time." We slowly and surely wound our way up the river, crooked as it is, regardless of the tickle sun which shone now in our faces, next on our backs, and, again, impartially burning one ear and then the other — the worst intoxicated and most reckless sun that ever shone; or, was it dizzy from trying to Avatch the turns of Beaver River? At five o'clock we were hungry again, and landed on a point of hard land, for supper. So were and did thebl. ck flies. We supposed when we left home that we were nicely and in a soldierly manner stealing a march on this enemy, and overwhelming him with the almanac. He was not due so early according to the entomological time-table, but he came, nevertheless— some millions of him. We disputed our coffee and hard-tack with him at " Black Fly Point " — a name born of our anguish — and then hastened on, eager to find a rest for the weary where the wicked fly would 138 THE BEAVER RIYER WATERS. cease from troubling. The niglit was settling down upon us as we reached South Branch, and we puslied up that stream, a short distance, and made eamp. AVliile the guides were constructing a " bower of boughs " we cast our flies among the leaping trout, at the landing, and took a gootl munl)er, but they were small. As the darkness closed in upon us and we gathered before the rousing fire, and stretched our weary limbs upon our couch of fresh and fragi-ant hcndock boughs, we discovered, to our consternation, that the Manager and his guide were missing. They were uncontrovertibly lost or di-owned, or both. What precise mishap had indeed befallen them in this inhospitable region we tried to imagine, but none of the theories of their absence satisfied the whole party,— doubtless because each man clung with affection and respect to his own view of the case. It was certain that our lost friend was without axe, blanket or camp-kit, although it was an equally certain and miserable fact that the entire food-supply of the party was with the missing boat, wher- ever that might be. The conclusive statement of our chief guide, upon this point, brought a groan from somewhere near the stomach of the Editor, while the Judge decided sententiously, quoting a semi-legal maxim in the body Qf his opinion, that " what can't be cured must be endured." The Thin Man, who had been gratifyingly successful with his rod, generously and (they said) rather patronizingly declared that there need be no fears for breakfast if all hands would be content to eat his trout. CHAPTEK Xiy. At length, howcvcn-, our faith iu the proverbial good sense of the Manager— to say nothing of our belief in Jove's care of wandering beggars— gradually dispelled our anxieties; we smoked and smoked, and slept. But our slumbers were not undisturbed. The owl saw our watch-fire and told other owls, and such an alarming chorus of inquiries fol- h)wed as to "Who? Who? Who-o-o? " we were, that one reckless person, startled from sleep, responded in a very improper manner, "None of your business! " It was. the general sentiment of the party, although, as we raised on our ell)ows, wide awake, we did not all endorse the emphasis of the phraseology in which it was uttered. We settled down to sleep* again, resolved to make a business of it, whoever might question our identity or our riiiht to be there. The fire burned low, and the heavy breathing of tired men in slumber and the occasional snap- pino- of tlie tire, were all the sounds that l)roke the deep stillness of the night in the forest. Suddenly a voice broke out, " Snakes! I felt a snake run across me! " "Take your boots off," responded an angry sleeper, whose nap was thus rudely broken—" take your Ijoots off. and you won't feel any snakes." " Don't insinuate anything of that sort, my dear fellow, —it's snakes in dead earnest this time." ^^^ 'l^IIE BEAVEE TirVER WATERS. Tlie Chief Guitle now came to the front,— -Gentlemen, it's rabbits ! They're thicker in these woods than toads after a shower. They always skip and scoot around camp after dark, looking for something to eat. I felt one nibbling at the toe of my boot, but scar't him off and went to sleep again.-There! "-going to the pile of luggage at the foot of a tree near l)y-" the pesky rascals have been guawino- my pack-straps! They'll gnaw greasy leather every timeT I sha'n't go to sleep again to-night,-ril build up a rousino- fire and watch the little scamps or we sha'n't have a whole thing left by morning." And the faithful fellow did as he said, while the vision of snakes faded out entirely; and we slept again and dreamed of armies and hosts of light-footed but predatory rabbits surrounding our camp and waitinc. to see the Chief Guide nod before proceeding to gnaw the flesh off from our bones. Morning brought a solution of the mystery of the Man- ager's absence, and the doubt upon which we had in a pri- mitive way gone to bed, in the person of the Manager's guide. Indeed, he was more anxious than we. We were the " lost." He knew where he was all the while, but was unable to say whether we were as fortunate as to our own situation. The Chief Guide and he were discoursing as we awoke. It turned out that the Manager and his man had missed South Branch entirely, and gone five miles further up-stream, to "Little Rapids," where there was a sorry prospect for the night; but fortunately two gentlemen were there encamped for the night, and to their bed and board- such as they had to offer-the wanderers were invited. All THE MANAGEK LOST: A MAETYR. 141 this the guide rehited to us as we rubbed our eyes after our first sleep in camp for tlie trip; and then, since breakfast was only possible to us at Little Rapids, we tumbled into our l)oats and proceeded thither as speedily as possible. Hastily crossing the carry there, of only a quarter of a mile, we came upon the Manager, sitting on a log, in all the solitary grandeur of a martyr,— with blotched face and hands, a red handkerchief about his neck, with eyes sug- gestive of a night of highly-seasoned social festivity, and as solemn as an owl. "How are you, anyway? "' " Glad to tind you safe and sound!'* " Thought you were lost, or drowned!" "Might as well have been," replied the Manager to our varied salutations;—''! didn't sleep a wink, and I was eold,— and as soon as the sun was up this morning the black flies pounced on me as if it was their last chance. See my face V— and my hands? I'm about eaten up.— Oh, you may think it's fun to get lost, without a blanket, and sleep in perdition and wake up in " "Torment, I suspect you mean," politely suggested the Judge; " still, you come out pretty well, considering what might have happened." "Trust a newspaper man to strike on his feet every time! " triumphantly added the Editor, who, however, had been slightly angry, the night before, at the intimation that his "snakes" were hypothetical. Our breakfast was speedily got ready and set before us. The Manager had not in the least exaggerated the facts as 142 THE BEAVEK UlVEll WATETIS. to the black flj-. The eating on our part, hungry as we were, was moderation to abstemiousness compared with the devouring which we suffered, in tlie liot sun, from m3"riads of tlie little black imps. We were almost driven to madness by their attacks, and were only too glad to push on uj) tlie river, as soon as possible, out of the reach of the tierce swarms, that seemed to stand guard on this vantage ground and challenge all invaders of the sacred solitudes beyond. Proceeding up the river, we soon reached the foot of " All)any Carr)%" three-fourths of a mile long. C^arries are all pretty nmch aUke in that the guides must bear their inverted boats over their heads; and the sportsman, if he be a genuine one and phj^sically capable of it, must bend his back to a load of luggage that out oj:' the woods would make him shudder; and there is up hill and down, mud- holes and roots and prostrate trees and a vast deal of per- spiration and fatigue. In the real wilderness there is no royal road over the carry. In this instance we were loaded with the heavy blankets necessary for the cool nights, and our food-supply and camp-kit, to say nothing of the useless articles one ahvays brings to the woods; and doing our best, the guides were compelled to "double the carry" before we were ready to embark again. A pleasant row of two or three miles, over wliat nuist be good tishing grounds in earl}" spring, brouglit us to Albany Lake. This lake has shores which are attractive feeding grounds for deer. Passing through this body of water we entered and ascended the inlet to the rapids where another carry of three-fourths of a mile awaited us. COOKERY.— THE EDITOE OTEinVHELMED. 143 I have attaiuments useful and oruamental, but on x\n< occasion, under the inspiration of hunger, I developed a talent for cookery, latent until then, which promises to serve me as good a turn in adversity as the trade which in some parts of the old world e\'ery son of fortune is com- pelled to learn. I dressed and Inoiled a trout on a twig, before an open fire, in a manner which, the Editor said, deserved a Special Notice— although the paragrapher would require a sample to b? laid upon his table. The true edi- torial instinct, however, led him to remark, in quite an opposite spirit, as the last vestige of the broiled tish disap- peared in the cooks mouth, that it was always youi' thin men Avho eat the most, and that Oliver Twisf. cry for - more" was expressive of their constant state of stomach. The judicial mind, however, ruled that strict right wronged no man, aud that a thin man, under the present constitu- tion, and the amendments thereto, could not be coerced into surrei^idering any portion of his goods-without an equivalent, and then only by virtue of the right of eminent domain. He was pleased to add, also, to the grat- ification of all but the Editor, that dead-heading, in the wilderness at least, (with significant emphasis on the qual- ifying phrase) was not to be countenanced, aud if any persoii (and he looked hard at the Editor ) desired to eat the fruJts of another person's skill, without his free con- sent, it was simply an indication that the distiction of me^nv ^n,\tn>nn was not duly regarded in that person's miud;- but at this instant the gravity of the Judge broke down, aud we all joined in the laugh which the Editor caused by his successful per.sonation of the culprit receiving sentence. 144 THE BEAYER RIAER WATERS. By this time we were all ready for the noon-day tramp over the carry. At the dam, in the swift water, tliere was very lively sport with the fly, among the small trout. The large ones had retired from the rapids, and the small ones had taken their places, as is likely to occur near the end of the time for fishing in swift water. A short row (about two miles) up the river .brought us to Smith's Lake-as pretty a sheet of water, with its seven wooded islands and cliarming, mountain-girt shores, as one is likely to see in the Adirondack region,— much like, indeed, but larger than Blue Mountain Lake, which is con- fessedly of surpassing ))eauty. We took possession, hy the sportsman's right, of the "Syracuse Camp," which its proprietors were to occupy later in the season. The open sleeping camp was hardly tenantable, and we were glad to avail ourselves of a trapi^er's winter-hut of logs and l)ark, of entirely nondescript a-chitecturnl design, but which contained a pile of stones for a fire-place, and a bed of marsh hay. We built a rousing fire, and a confla- gration seemed imminent as the flames and smoke and sparks flew up the sheets of spruce bark that formed the side of the hut by the tire. But a (rapper had, all alone, braved the rigors of the winter there, and doubtless had piled on the wood as freely in January as we needed to in May. At all events, the "fire risk " proved to be a good one, and despite our fears we learned to be comfortable on that score. A heavy rain that night searched out sundry defects in the roof, which were cured with fresh sheets of bark, the next day. CHAPTER XY. WluMi the sun caiiu' up, fresh and vio-orous, the next morninu'. tioeks of eross-lnlls, more luunerous than tlie spar- rows in our eastern cities, fluttered and (Uirted about our eanip. Tiie whir of their swift winii's, and the ehiteh of tlieir tiny claws on our l)ark-roof, woke us up. Tliey were very inipiisitive and tearless, and became great pets with us; although, each morning, somebody was dis- posed to anathematize them for disturl)ing our morning slumbers. They are such bright, cheerful and sociable littli' fellows, — chippering their quick, sharp notes through their cross twisted bills,— that I have become very fond of them, in these excursions in the wilderness, and have come to feel that they aie an essential part of the accompani- ments of a well regulated camj). After breakfast Ave l)egan to lookalxmt our surroundings and make our plans for the day. The " Syracuse Party," who.se hospilalities, so far as shelter was concerned, we were enjoying, had an eye to the picturesque in selecting their camping ground. In the midst of the sloping clear- ing of two or three acres, — made to avoid falling trees and to escai)e the mosquitoes whose delight is damp and .shady places among trees and shrubs,— they had erected the two 146 THE BEAVER RIVER WATERS. or thi-ec l)ark structures whidi were ojjeu to all, or. as the spruee-bark sin-n read, " All sportsmen Avelcorne to its use. Rut not abuse.. " On the eastward, was a deliiihtiul view,— the semi- mountainous shores across the lake heavily wooded; while here and Ihrre I he pretty, Avooded islands looked like ,i>ems in their sell in,-. At the left, rises Pratfs M'ountain, or ymith's Hock, -the latte-- name sometimes bestowed in remend))-ance of a hermit who many ye:irs a^o dAvelt at its foot, cleared a few acres, and iinally .disapj.eared as mysteriously as he came. Tlie lake also takes from him its name— not very distinctive among men, to be sure, but emphatically so among bodies of water where Hound Pond, Clear Pond, Hock Pond, Bog Pond, and the like, occur with confusing reiteration. We entered upon the enjoyment of our sojourn at this delightful place with great zeal. Hods and reels were speedily rigged and we set forth ui>on a tour of com- bined fishing and exploring. It had dawned upon us; as we wT're ascending the river, that the water was high, and we soon made the disagreeable discovery that it was too liigh for good fishing. We were late for the fishing on the rapids, and too early for the fishing at the spring-holes. The trout were in the unsettled state in wliicli they always are. intern.ediute the times when they leave therainds and gather at the sining-holes, and were wandei-ing, at their own sweet will, all over the lake. We also found that for trout of any desirable size, we must troll along the shal- BABIES.— BAIT YS. FLY, 147 lows by the shores, where fair sized trout were hunting for minnows, or tish with bait off rocky points; and, saddest confession of all, the fly cast in the good orthodox way was almost useless anywhere except down the river upon the rapids. There one might have sport, such as it was, with the little fellows, and take trout in numbers to his satisfac- tion. The scales, Innvever, brought mortihcation and regret. The wicked Herod himself would have shed tears to see what a heap of dead babies one afternoon's slaughter produced. But a half loaf is better tlian none; and I maintain that a tisherman, who sulks in his tent,-like that graceless and obstinate hero, Achilles, -because he can't take trout with a lly whde he can with l)ait, is, to say the least, more nice than wise. The most ardent fisherman wdiom it is my good fortune to know, tlie victor in many a contest of skill with the bamboo, the venerable and genial Reuben,~who fondles a favorite tly, frayed and ragged from the light with a big trout, as a father fondles his tirst baby,-even Keubeu, when he must do it, yields tiies, leader, slencler rod and all, and takes a "bait-pole." After him, let no common tisherman lift his nasal organ sky-ward and sniff, if tisherman's luck brings him to the woods at a time " between hay and grass," and only bait takes the fish. Without describing the spirit in which we did it. it is • suflieient to say that in this case we accepted the inevitable, and after a fair trial confined ourselves in the main to still bait fishing and trolling with the rod. It would afford me peculiar satisfaction, as a historian, to record triumphs 148 THE BEAVER KIVER WATERS. sucli as the reader lias only dreamed of; but for my own comfort and history's sake, I prefer to utter unpalatable truths rather than to indulge in the fictions of fancy. It was a solemn fact that we had made a mistake. We had studied the almanac l)utnot the signs of the peculiar season. However, there was no sulky Achilles among us, and in the end we took the half loaf with j^hilosophical cheerful- ness. After a forenoon of suceessful tishing, my guide "John" took me up the inlet. It is one of those dead, stagnant streams which one finds now and then slowly winding through a marsh. The alders and weeds were brown and dry, and .everything was as cheerless and lonely as can be imagined. As we silently and slowly- crept up the wind- ing stream, watchful to detect the leap of the trout, the stillness was almost oppressive. There was no bird oi- ani- mal life to l)reak the spell of desolation, except the singu- lar note of the bittern bearing the descriptive, popular name of "the pile-driver." The half dull, half-resonant " ca- thug! ca-thug!" of its voice was occasionally heard, and once the bird, startled by our unsuspected approach, sprang suddenly into the air, uttered a croaking "squawk" and flew heavily away. We lingered in this region of death and silence as long as I could endure it, and then hastened back to the sparkling waters of the lake, where our eyes could at least rest themselves on the green-clad islands and mountains, and our ears welcomed again the gurgle and nuu-mur of the waters around the prow of our light and swift-moving boat. JOHN, "THE TALIvER." 149 This " Jolm." who had fallen to my lot, Avas a singular character. He Avas absolutely lazy and useless about camp. Very likely he Avoidd have frozen and starved before he woidd have cho])iH'd wood for the iiiiiht or i)rci>ared a breakfast. But he was as willing and free to row all day as the best of guides. The last thing at night, before going to Ix'd, he Avould come to me and ask, " Don't you want to try the fishing before breakfast ?" " Don't care if I do, John; what time shall we start?" "Five o'clock, or half past, if you say so. " "All right. John. Call me, and I'm on hand." At the appointed minute, in the morning, I woidd feel his touch and see his gesture; and creeping out of the hut as stealthily as he had entered it. without wakening a man, I followed him to the shore. Once in the boat he Ix^came " The Talker. " In a drawling, half audible tone he slowly talked on and on and on, all day long, of his hunting and trapping and the wonderful alfairs of wliich he had I)een a great part. His special theme, upon Avhich he delighted to dwell at all times, Avas his " jtardner," the hunter Avhose hut Ave Avere occupying. It did no good to interrupt him, or to request him to be silent. He Avas sure to tind occasion and excuse for rencAvinghis everlasting draAvl in a Ioav tone. His good nature and kindne,>^s, hoAvcA'cr, totally disarmed my indignation ; but mau}^ a time I stepi)e(l on shore, after tAvo or three hours of this Talker's afHictive society, Avith a sense of relief. I learned Avisdom from this experience, and a burnt child Avould no sooner ])ut his hand on a red-hot 150 THE BEAVER RIVER WATERS. stove than I would again knowingly engage a "Talkative Guide." We had varied success in fishing. IVIy record one day was as follows : one trout before breakfast; from breakfast to dinner, three, one of them thirteen and a quarter inches long and seven and a half inches around: after dinner, by trolling with spoon, one salmon trout, fifteen inches long. The following day I took twenty six-trout, the largest l)eing a half poimd in weight. A day later I took, ti'oU- ing with rod, two before breakfast: after breakfast and before dinner, nine, the largest, fourteen and a half inches long and seven inches around : after dinner, one. This was aljout the average fortune of the party. The Editor was having excellent luck, one day, fishing from a rock opi)Osite camp, when suddenly the trout ceased biting, and he began to take bullheads. Determined to remove these invaders, he continued fishing until he had caught an amazing quantity, when they also suddenly dis- appeared, and sun-fish in great numbers appeared. The Editor finally abandoned the contest and left the " punkin seeds " in possession of the field. The Judge was, at another time, the sole occupant of a shelving rock at a favorite point, and was fly-fishing with gi-eat zeal. We who were at a distance had our attention called to him l)y a capering and cavorting on the rock, that indicated great judicial excitement and, doubtless, a contest with a magnificent s'ou are a genuine sportsman yourself, and a good friend of sportsmen, — that I may write to you freely for information, and that ycTu will as freely give. I am going across the wilderness by way of the Fulton Chain, Raquette Lake, and so on, — time, two or three weeks, — right after July 4tli, if ni}^ clients will let me. I am to take with me my son, a lad of eleven years — we two, no more. I shall come with all needed supplies and some pet notions of mine bj' wa}^ of tent and camping-kit. My boy is a strong, healthy, plucky little fellow, and I shall have no fears that he will give out where I don't. My guide must be a careful, discreet, judicious man, and a good woodsman, — not profane, not foul-mouthed, not too talkative, temperate. Have you in mind such a man as 1 want ? Yours Truly, (3.) BoonerlUe, N. Y., June, 1877. Dear Sir : — I have just the man you want — John L. Brinckerhoof, a middle-aged man of character in this town — the best 160 BOONEYILLE TO SARATOGA, guide ill the woods. I have seen him and read him your letter. He saj^s he will go with you. His terms, with l)()al. are $;>.00 a day. I can get you a man for $2.50, but John is worth half a dollar a da}' more than any body else I know of. Write me if you want him. Yours, B. P. Graves. B. P. Graces. Boone dUe. N. Y.:— Engage Brinckerhoof. Will reach Booneville, morning train, July Hth. . . I kept my telegraphed promise. At the station, in the earl}' morning, a bright-faced, energetic, vigorous and 3'oungerly gentleman stepped up to me. as 1 stopped a moment on the platform, and said, "Is this Mr. ?" I assured liim that was m}^ name. It was Mr. Graves who addressed me. He convoyed \\\y son and myself directly to the hotel, ordered our luggage sent up, and took posses- sion of us as one likes to be possessed liy an honest, go- ahead friend who knows bett(M-*than ^'ourself what is to be d(.nc. \\'liil(^ we were waiting for breakfast, several strong, robust y(mng men came into the hotel, who were pointed out to me as guides. I fell into conversation with them, and found them such honest, sensible, good-natured fel- lows, tliat J half repented having already made an engage- ment. "John" came in, soon after, and made himself known to me. He seemed to be a little past fifty j^ears of JOHN. — "GOING m." — OUR OUTFIT. 161 age; was large, compact and strong; had a face which nature intended for that of a general, and as honest as the sun, and a quiet, self -respectful, sensible way of talking which won my heart from the first. "Graves is right," thought I; " this is just the man for me,— he's got a head, as well as a good body and strong arms. " And I never had occasion to change my opinion. Phelps provided a pair of horses, wagon and driver; and after a substantial breakfast we set out on our way to "Old Forge " at the foot of the Fulton Chain of lakes, twenty-six and a half miles distant. To Moose River village, or Law rence's, twelve and a half miles,— a little settlement in the woods clustered about the large tannery there established —the road was quite fair. Here we dined, and after an hour or more resumed our journey, but in quite a different manner. We left our wagon,— for it was useless beyond this point; our horses were made to swim across Moose River, which is here quite a broad stream ; we were ferried over, and on the further shore we prepared for the serious and hard work of the trip. All our luggage, except rods and ritles, was piled, packed and strapped on the back of one horse, while the other was saddled for Ned and myself to ride alternately. And while we are lying on the grass, in the shade of a Avild cherry tree, and the driver and John are carefully arranging the load on the pack-horse, I am sure it will be of interest to the practical sportsman if I describe in detail what we took to the woods: First.— X rubl)er "navy-bag," containing extra clothes 162 BOONEVILLE TO SAEATOGA. for two; tin pail which contained cooking and table outfit for four; small hand-bag, containing tly-book well fur- nished, lines, reels and many minor articles, and all the little odds and ends of things which experience had taught me are so convenient in camp, — all in the navy-bag, snug and dry. Second. — Bundle, or pack, — made up of a light camp- stove, constructed from a plan of my own, ( folding up much like an envelope); a cotton " A " tent, water-proofed and weighing ten pounds; heavj^ blankets; small, short- handled axe in sheath; landing-net with short handle, — all wrapped and strapped inside of a large piece of enam- eled cloth to be used to spread upon our bed of boughs, in place of rubber blanket. Third. — Box containing provisions, weighing sixty-five pounds, — the box fitted with trunk straps with shoulder loops for carrying as a pack. Fourth. — Loose articles, — fish basket filled with "sun- dries;" two fiy rods and one bait rod, firndy strapped together; two light, summer overcoats, and two rubber overcoats; and a Stevens' "Hunters' Pet" rifie in a leather case. The entire luggage above mentioned — being house, stove, cooking and table utensils, provisions ( with minor omis- sions) for three persons for two weeks, sporting outfit, etc., etc., weighed one hundred and sixty-five pounds, not guessed, but by Fairbanks' scales. I add with some pride but entire sincerity that this outfit proved to be admirable and complete beyond expectation; and, with added experi- ON THE MARCH. — ARNOLD'S. 163 euce, I can tliink of uotliing more that I would provide for a similar trip. But the packing is completed, it is nearl}^ two o'clock, and we have fourteen miles through the woods to accom- plish, before night, over a notably rough road; and John has given the wora, ''all ready! " Our driver leads the way, driving the pack-horse before him without rein, leaving him to pick the path which his sagacity and experience helps him to do better than a man could do it for him; Ned is perched on the saddle horse and follows; I shoulder the bundle of rods and keep at the horse's heels; while John brings up the rear with the "Hunters' Pet " in his hand. Nothing good could be said of the road, and nothing worse than that it was after the fashion of wilderness roads. It was through a dense forest, a mere wagon track full of mud-holes, with rocks, roots, hills, and corduroy bridges. The passage is sometimes made, at the driest season, with the " buck -board"' wagon, but horse-back riding or walking is preferable. Ladies have passed over the road— American ladies at that— but they do not go at the break-neck speed that we went. We made the fourteen miles in four hours and twenty minutes; and fresh from my office, I managed, without detriment or great fatigue, to walk ten miles of the fourteen. Before reaching Old Forge, and two miles distant, we passed the old " Arnold Place," famous in its day as the favorite resort of sportsmen of the old school, but now gone to decay and utterly abandoned. It is, indeed, the last house of the little settlement commenced by Herreshoff, 164 BOOXETTT.LE TO S.U?ATO0A. sou-iu-law of Jobu Brown of Provideuce, Kliode Island, after wliom ' " John Brown's Tract "' is named. Brown, in 1793. purchased '.210,1 00 acres of the wiUl h\nds lying about the head-waters of Moose River, llerreshoff cleared about '.2000 acres, erected man}- buildings, gathered there thirty or forty families, built a dam and constructed a forge, under- took the manufacture of iron, which effort proved a costly failure — and blew his brains out. The wilderness is now claiming its own and slowly creeping in upon the two thousand acres once torn from it. The last house is in ruins, itself the scene of a lirutal murder; and only the familiar swallows hovering about the deserted barns, or skimming over the grass-grown tields. with happy twitter, in the bright sunshine, pleasantly remind the passer-by of the life and activity and homes once existing there. It was a delightful change of scene that met our eyes as we let down the bars and passed through the garden en- closure back of •• Old Forge Hotel," a little way down the river below First Lake. As our modest cavalcade wheeled around in front of the hotel, the 'old, old" smudge met our gaze, a party of Rochester sportsmen nodded pleasantly to us from the rude verandah, the small boy. of the place, with hands in his pockets, approached and stared at Ned as being an unaccustomed visitor and a congenial spirit, and at length our host, Comstock himself, emerged from the kitchen where supper was brewing, and greeted his newly arrived guests. The splint-bottomed arm-chairs on the verandah invited us to rest, and we sank into them with the accumulated emphasis of our fom"teen miles of pedestrian "OLD FORGE." — COLLEGE BOTS. 16o and equine travel added to wagon and rail-road ride and superlatively early rising at Utira aftf-r a v^rv l-.t.^ r<-tirinir and previous Journeying. But we were not too hungry nor too weary to observe what a quiet, charming out-look there was. Down the grass-plot, easterly a few rods, gleamed the Moose River waters, deep and sluggish, retarded in their flow by the dam at our left. The forest in this direetion had hardly lieen broken. In the distance the mountains lifted their heads in the light of the descending sun. Within us was the feel- ing that the inevitably hard and tiresome 'going in " had been accomplished, and that now and here really began the unalloyed delights Xed and I had talked over so often— both with boyish enthusiasm — at the winter fireside, and more frequently out under the trees on the lawn where the boys had pitched the tent, when the summer heats had begun to glow and the pavements were hot. and the air of office and schoolroom was stifling. At supper two brown, blue-shirted young men sat at the table on my left. 1 thought they were guides, who by the genius 'oci had been, according to the fashion of the woods, invited to the "first table." Some common enough Latin phrase uttered in joke l>etween them, however, attracted my attention, and I speedily learned that my two table neighbors were students from Hamilton College. That he- ing my own Alma ]\Iater. I was quickly on good terms with them, and they related to me the history of their ad- ventui'es thus far. Said one of them: 'We resolved, last winter, to do the woods this summer. 166 BOONEVILLE TO SARATOGA. We built a boat, at odd times, studied up the maps and guide-books, and the question of out-fit and supplies, and got everything, route and all, down to a fine point. We shipped our boat by rail to Booneville, had it trans- ported by wagon to Moose liiver Village, and, having been told that the river was navigable from that point up to the lakes, we put our boat into the water there. That was two days ago. " The river is navigal)le after a fashion, to be sure, or we shouldn't be liere now. But it is full of snags, rocks and rapids, and we made very slow progress and had a hard time of it. The night that we spent on the way, it rained fearfully. We carr}' for our bed, and swing between two trees, a double-length hammock and sleep in it, feet to feet. In place of a tent we have a rubber blanket long enough to cover us both completely, heads and all. That was the way we camped in the rain, the horrid din of a thunderstorm with fearfully vivid lightning all about us. For cooking utensils we have onlj' a frying-pan." "No coifee-pot ? " inquired I in amazement. "No ; after we have fried our pork or trout, we scrub out the frying-pan and make coffee in it." " Spare me, on that," I said ; "I want my coftee in the woods as good as at my own breakfast table, — other cook- ing will take care of itself, with such appetite as the woods give." " Oh, it does the business well enough, on a pinch ; and we were bound to reduce our luggage to the lowest possible point: Why, knives and forks and a spoon or two, and COLLEGE boys' STORY. — UP THE BIVER. 167 till cups, a lantern, axe, fishing- tackle and ritle, complete our out-lit. I admit that we are "roughing it" in good earnest. At all events, the journey up here from Law- rence's deserves that appellation. But, 'fur.sauet hue olim )uemi/m.se jN nibit ^^— which, freely translated, means, 'it will make a good story to tell at college next winter.' However, 1 shall have to tone it down a little, or the boys won't believe it." "They will doubtless," 1 said, "hurl back at you, ' pos- fo/iif qtiiti posse ritlciif'i r,' and translate it to suit themselves: ' Your l)ig thing was all in the thinking.' "' "Oh, no; I don't fear that, if 1 can only preserve for future reference the scars oC some of these big l)listers." When I saw the nariator of this story, as I did the follow- ing summer, bearing from the commencement stage his graduating honors and jilentiful Ixxiuets, I was thinking, 1 confess, more of the woods and of our interview at Old Forge than of his strong and graceful oration and manly l)resence — and 1 had not forgotten the blisters. It was nearly eight o'clock in the evening when John took our luggage on his broad, strong shoulders down to the l)oat-house where his own beautiful Adirondack boat — his special joy and pride — awaited us. A pleasant row up the river by the fading light, and in the cool evening air, was a blissful change from our hard joui'ney through the woods on foot and horse-back. We passed "Murderer's Point ," where Nat Foster shot the Indian, Drid, as he was rowing up the river. John told the stor3% but it is better told in II. Perry Smith's " Summerings in the Wilderness," 168 BOONEVILLE TO SABATOGA. It was after nine o'clock when, after having crossed First Lake in the darkness, our boat grated u])on the sands and our h)ng day's travel was done. We had arrived at "Stick- nc}^ Camp" situate near the end of a narrow ridge or long- neck of land running out to a point fioni Ihe north shore and fornung the division between First and Second Lakes. The "('amp'' consists of two well built, shingle-roofed log-houses, about Iwenty-tive by twenty -eight feet, and one and a half stories high, a corner of each nearly touching a corner of the other, like the squares on a chess board. Ample verandahs run nearly around each ])uilding. One structure Avas closed to all except the inunediate friends of the owner. The other was at. the disposal of our guide, he having erected the buildings and having for 3'ears been the guide of the "Stickney Party." A framed building, used as. a boat-house below and general depository above, stands on the shore of Second Lake, and an ice-house, well filled ever}^ season, burrows under the protecting shade of some thickly growing trees. The under-brush,is cut away, leaving large pine and other trees which afford ample shade but pernut the black Hies, " ])unkics " and nios(]uitoes little refuge from the breeze that almost continually blows from one lake or the other. The house we occupied had a well appointed and fur- nished kitchen, as to essentials. Its rude Avails Avere lined Avith fishing tackle, tools to mend a gun, a rod or a boat . Avith, and no limit of couA^enieiit odds and ends of Avoodsy things, affording abundant entertainment and study on a rainy day, and exceedingly handy in case of almost any con- "8TI0KNEY CAMP, OF BLEi^BED MEMORY." 169 ceivable break-down. The cupboard would have done credit to a good, motherly house-wife. The dining-room was amjile and contained a table at which twenty hungrj'- men might sit at case while John should load it down with the marvelous results of his delicious forest cookery. Through the open doors and windows of the dining-room one could look upon the waters of two lakes, and hear the wavelets " lap, lap " on either shore. Above were two well lighted and comfortable sleeping rooms, one for guides and the other for "the party," — the latter room furnished with beds having springs, mattresses, slieets and mosquito bars, — things not orthodox in the woods, to be sure, but amaz- ingl}^ comfortable. We did not learn all this upon the night of our arrival, for we speedil}^ found our way to our good lieds and slept the glorious sleep of the woods. " Stickne^y Camp," of blessed memory, was our delightful home for several days, every waking hour of which was one prolonged dream of peace and rest and beauty. The lullal)y of the waves and tlie tender sighing of the pines at our cliamber window made two or three nights memorable as occasions when one was soothed so sweetly to slumber, and yet so gentl}^ moved to pleasant thoughts, that it seemed ungrateful not to yield to the soothing and also a cruel loss not to drink the inspi- ration of the hour and the sweet sounds to the full. Lying on the pine-leaf-sprinkled knolls in the shade, and looking oft' upon the glancing and glistering waters gently moved by the breeze under the bright sun, and feeling the resinous breath of the cool forest on the cheek, was rest to heart and 170 BOONEVILLE TO SARATOGA. mind as well as health to nerve and delight to the eye ; and the sense of beaut}^ 2:rew like an infant drawing new life from the maternal fount. John, tireless, faithful, kind, to- be-depended-on, unobtrusive. ))usv about the liousehold duties, added to rather than detracted from this suise of delicious peace and rest and enjojinent of nature. No other vacation scene of cam]>, or voyage, or glorious si)ort. wilh rod and reel, ever comes back to memory so fi'Ciiucntly or with such perfect and entire satisfa('tion, refreshment and delight as this at " Stickney Camp." I saw, too, all these things through the fresji, young eyes of a bo}' of vigorous mind and bodv. I shared his healthy and entirely nntural sensntions. And I suppose the father's heart was gladdened by the happiness of his first born. CHAPTER XVIII. On the morning of our first day in camp, the colleg-e boys called upon us on their way up the Fulton Chain, and on to the St. Lawrence by Ilatpiette River. They had entirely recovered from their hard trip up Moose river to Old Forge, and entered with spirit upon the long and difii- cult journey that awaited them. We tried to induce them to tarry with us for a day, but the}' were eager to enjoy " the real thing"; and we parted with them most reluct- antly. A " good provider" was our John, and he believed in a well filled larder. If a garden could have been extemp(-)r- ized, I have no doul)t we should have had all the sununcr vegetables at our door. The next best thing was to " bait the buoys," and then take from the lake — the forester's garden, granarj^ and butcher-shop — a pair of salmon trout whenever desired for a change, or to eke out fisherman's luck in catching speckled trout. Indeed, as John broiled the former, only for the catching of them, I should have been content to leave the speckled trout to their own devices. Our very first fishing experience on the Fulton Chain, therefore, was in taking minnows. The lad was expert at that, and was delighted with the sprightly sport. These tiny, timid fish, found in the shallow water near the shores, 172 BOONEVILLE TO SARATOGA. wheu caught were cut in pieces and scattered in deep water about the ancliored stone attaclied 1)}' a long rope to a floating stick or buoy. After a day or two, we baited our large, strong hooks with live minnows and angled for the salmon trout which had found these places good feeding grounds. They took the bait ver}^ gently and deliberately, a sudden pull fixed the steel in their strong jaws, and then such a commotion! Hand over hand we jiuik^d tliem right up to the surface and flopped them into the boat without giving them an inch of line or an instant to meditate a counter movement. It was the only safe way to deal with them. There was a certain sort of sport in this fishing, but it was chieflj' a matter of brute force and a good breakfast. After baiting the buoys, and thus ampiv providing for our table wants thereafter, and with a soldier's wisdom pro- tecting the line of a possible retreat, we opened the real fishing campaign at "the marsh." A cold stream winds its sluggish current through aswami)on the southeast side of First Lake, that 5^ears ago was and still is liooded by the dam at Old Forge. We cast our flies in the clear, deep pools, occurring here and there in the course of the stream, and surrounded b}' ghostly dead trees that still resist decay, and by graceful but troublesome lily-pads. The lad had never fished with the fly Ijefore. and after some minor disasters readily consented to take his first lessons in open water. In a few minutes I took fifteen trout, most of them small, and, these being all we wanted for diiuier, we returned to camp. The remainder of the day was charm- ing, out under the trees; and as we were content to fake FISHING. — A BROKEN ROD AND SAD HEART. 173 whatever of eiijo^'meiit the wilderness brought us, we lay on the ground in the shade, were fanned by the breeze that had arisen, looked out iqion the waters and the grand old forests, and talked away the hours ( the bo}^ had no end of talk in him ) until balni}^ night came again. The next morning John brought in a two-pound salmon trout for l)reakfast. In the afternoon we went up through Second and Third, and into Fourth Lake about half its length, to Jack Shepperd's camp, situate in a grove of small spruces, on the soutli shore. Jack is one of the noted gui:les of the region, and he has a most comfortable sportsman's abiding-place. There were at that time live ' ' camps " — substantial buildings — on Fourth Lake : Snyder Camp, Sam Dunakin's and Lawrence's on the north shore, and Shepperd's and Pratt's on the south shore, all private but Shepperd's and Duuakin's, which were for the enter- tainment of all who would pay for it. On our return, just at sunset, we had some very pretty sport at the head of Fourth Lake outlet. Ned struck a half-pound trout, and with boyish impetuosity gave a tre- mendous jerk, and broke a second joint. The poor fel- low's heart was almost as badly broken, thinking that his rod was ruined and his fun was all up for the trip. But that evening John, our good genius, mended and made it about as good as new. The lad afterwards, with a little instruction, acquired considerable skill with the tly-rod, and was sometimes elated with success superior to that of liis elders. A boy may ])e trusted to pick up a knowledge of fishing and all the kinks and knacks, quite as rt^adily as 174 B()ONKVILT;E TO SARATOGA. grown pcoi)l('. Indeed, I doubt whether any body can handle a piu-liook with such remarkable success as a boy does. I suppose this intuitive knowledge of "how to take fish " implies that our remote ancestors went a-fishing for a living for many generations, and that their then acquired skill and habits come out naturally in a l)oy before his nature is overlaid by the discipline and results of modern education. The following day was Sunday. John announced that we had eaten uj) everything in the way of our fish-supply and suggested, that there must be a pair of salmon trout at the buoy waiting for us. We went to our preserve. Making a virtuous necessity of it, in a few moments we took three sal- mon trout wcighingtwo and a quarter, one and three-quar- ters, and one and a half pounds respectively, andaspeckled trout weighing a half-pound. They made a breakfast befit- ting the day, — and it required something remarkable to l)efit such a day as that was, for it was perfection itself. The weather has much to do with the enjoyment of peo- ple of in-door life, to be sure ; but in the woods, when you are camping or tramping, it is the all-important thing. It makes or mars your out-door life. A fortnight of rain in the midst of your sojourn in the forest is a calamity with- out mitigation or com[)ensation. But perfect weather among the trees and on the lakes and streams — that is blessedness itself. Tu the afternoon we went to church on the summit of Bald jVIountain, and worshipped Nature. AVe made the ;is- cent from the north shore of Third Lak(;, by a good trail, ON BALD MOUNTAIN. — WHAT WE SAW 175 and spent [il)oiit two liours on the heights. We gathered wild strawberries out of the crevices of the rocks ; looked upon lakes and less loftj^ mountains as though they were spread out upon a map ; looked down into an ancient bea- ver-meadow in a valley on the north side of the mountain, through which a little stream was quietly wandering ; and inscril)ed our names on the timbers of Colvin's Signal Sta- tion. The southern face of the mountain is almost perpen- dicular rock, and its summit is nearly bald, whence its name. We gazed far to the westward, toward the region of church-spires and happy homes ; but, as far as the eye could reach and distinguish, the forest extenart of the time b}^ "Captain Parker," a notable character, was the onl}^ sign of human habitation or pres- ence. All else was as wild and untamed as Nature made it. When we crossed the carrj" on our return we found, just arrived, three Poughkeepsie boys, guests of Chauncey Hathorn, on their way to Long Lake. All three, with their luggage and provisions, were in one small boat rather the worse for age and wear. They were without a guide, and the way was new to them all. The wind had risen, they had several times been driven ashore by storms, it was raining and almost night, and they had become somewhat alarmed at the risks they were taking, and wholly dispirited. To add to their discomfort, the lire the}' were attempting to cook their supper by was princii)ally steam and smoke. It was the forlornest picture imaginable. We gave them our catch of trout and parted from them with serious apprehensions for their safety. However, we learned afterward that young blood, pluck, perseverance and Yan- kee " faculty " took them through all right. Our return to camp was against a strong wind and through heavy waves. John was silent, and watched the water intently as he rowed with all his strength and skill. I was anxious and uncomfortable. But the 3'oungster — the Mark Tapley of our party on all occasions — was par- BASS-FISHING BY MOONLIGHT. 195 ticularly delighted. However, all's well that ends well. We reached camp safe and sound, untied the tent strings, — the only lock on our cloth house — and the boy and I stretched ourselves out to rest while John prepared the hearty meal which a day's work demanded. After supi)er, I saw that John was evidently wanting something besides his pipe. "What is it, John?" " AYell, you know where you saw a bass jnmp for your fly, the otlier day " — — " And didn't take him, John ? " "That's what's I'm thinking. — that he's waiting to be taken now. If 3'ou are not too tired, how would you like to give him another trial? " " John, I'm not the one to talk of being tired, after such a supper as you have given us; and if you want to, we will go." "You know," said John, "as I was telling you the other day, that I helped bring the ancestors of these bass over from Booneville to this lake, four years ago. I have never seen a bass caught, and have never eaten one. I'd like right well to do both." "All right, John; — come on, Ned, you siiall have your chance at 'em, too." The wind had gone down with the declining sun, and the lake was again smooth and gentle. We were speedily on the ground where an evening before I had seen a bass leap. Tlie boy drew first blood and landed his fish. I fol- lowed with a little fellow; but evidently the bass of trout 196 BOONEVILLE TO SARATOGA. waters regarded the proceedings as a violation of the fitness of tilings, and parted companj- with iis after a brief ac- quaintance. We started camp-ward, and while passing by moonlight between a certain island and the near-at-hand sliorc, a tingerling bass, in its flight from an enemy beneath the surface, leaped from the water and struck the boat. " Hold on, John! 1 nuist have a cast here! " " What! l)y moonlight ?" said .lohu, in surprise. " Yes, I have taken bass by moonlight ^^'hen I couldn't see my flies strike the water under the shade of the trees." I cast, and the fly was taken bj" a fish that instantly showed his vigor. John watched the bold leaps and play of the bass, untill I finally swung the line around to him, and he took off two bass, one weighing a pound and a quar- ter, and the other half a pound. That satisfied John, and we hastened on to camp and went to bed. wholly content to sleep without dreams, no matter how pleasant. \\ hen I sleepily opened my eyes in the early morning, and put aside the flap of the tent, I saw John on a broad rock jutting out into the lake, making a careful ^jos/ mortevi examination of the stomachs of the ])ass we had taken the night before. VVhile he cooked them he told me more, I confess, about their food than I, an old bass fisherman, had ever learned from original investigation. As we ate the delicious fellows, I })arti ally forgave John for being a party to the iniquity of stocking these waters with bass, and thus adding one more enemy to the precarious existence of salnto foiUinaUs. That the lake was pretty well stocked was evident from our own experience and that of other CAMP AMONG THE BIRCHES. — CAMP VIEWS. 197 fishermen. We saw, caught hj others, several bass of about two pounds' weight each. I know that it is disputed that these fish will drive out the trout, but I greatly fear the result of the experiment will be that Raquette Lake will cease to be the home of the gamiest and prettiest fish that swims the water. From our tent on the beach we could see, across a beau- tiful stretch of water, the smoke by day and fire by night of a camp opposite. We one day visited this camp, charm- ingly located among the birches, and found a party of ladies and gentlemen and fine lads, ten in number. Some were swinging in hammocks, reading or scAving; one gen- tleman was perched, with a book in his hand, on a boulder out in the water; while others, with whom we fraternized, were about the camp-fire, with the guides, talking deer and trout, and watching the preparation of supper. The entire part}^ with gtiides, at one time numbered twenty- six, they told me, and their friends were coming and going when they chose, as the encampment was to continue sev- eral weeks. Thej^ had seen our white tent and camp-fire across the water, and the swingle boat putting out from shore, and with a glass spied the l3oy; and they gave us a generous welcome. Murray's Island is but a few minutes' distance from our camping-gi-ound, and a little to the left of our view in front. Its rocky, bluff shores and heavy forest growth make a pretty picture any day, but as the sun declined, the strong shadows on the water, contrasting with hoary ro(;k and green forest, were something bewildering in their fascina- 198 BOONEVTLLE TO SARATOGA. tion. Occasionally, too, the smoke rose, around the point, above the trees, from the cabin of old Alvah Dunning. He had built his rude hut at the foot of a big tree, at the edge of a clearing Avhere Mr. Muri-ay rormerly camped, and cultivated potatoes and a few other vegetables after a very rudimentary fashion. His only companion was his deer-hound. 1 want to speak very respectfully of Alvah, for he lent us a board for a table ; but Ned Buntline thought he was "an old scamp " and drove him out of this part of of the wilderness, a few^ years ago, liy some remarkably close rifle-shooiing. When Ned ceased returning to his "Eagle's Nest," Alvah came back again, and now lives his hermit life without fear of the avenging w rath w hich was kindled by the theft of a boat, committed by somebody. Of a sunny afternoon, as we lay on the grassy shore, we occasionally saw^ new parties going to camp at the north end of the lake. The gay flotillas sometimes gave the stars and stripes to the breeze, and as the}" passed camp after camp, a lusty voice called out in resonant tones for all within hearing, ' ' United States jMail ! Letters and papers ! Who are you?" Responding, to the call with our names, "No mail!" or "Letters!" as the case might be, would be answered back. Sometimes, parties of two or three came to our landing a1 the foot of the old and deserted "Wood's Place," to pick berries on the hill, and Ave had pleasant c;hats with them. Two young fellows left their gun, which they apparently alw^ays took with them, standing by our favorite big tree. The next day they returned for it. "it. S. MATTi!" — CAMP ROBP.ED. 199 One morning, two ladies rowed over from the camp on Beacli's Point with letters to send out, saying that the}" learned through the guides that we were going to Blue Mountain Lake in a day or two. After a day of hard work, we took matters very easily the next. On one of these "lazy days," we tished an hour for bass, and then called at two camps on the north side of Long Point — "returning calls," which was not a merely per- functor}" performance ])ut a substantial pleasure. One of these camps was in dismay, for there had been a theft com- mitted of a large part of their stores, and a journey to Blue Mountain Lake House was necessarj^ to replenish them. "Alvah?" "No; it was a pair of scoundrels that came in by way of Long Lake, — some border ruffians in here on their own account. Thej" know we suspect them and have gone out of the woods faster than the}" came in. " Whether ' ' White" said this or " Smith," I cannot remember. We had been accustomed daily to leave all our stores and bulky valuables in our tent, merely tying the flaps together in front to signify that we were ' ' not at home, " and we felt entirely safe doing so until this incident. The guides are p#rfectly honest, so far as I ever saw, but some of these border-men who straggle into the woods are of quite another sort. The other camp, in tlie thick woods up the hill a few rods from shore, was wholly professional, being occupied by three reverend gentlemen and a lawyer, all in genuine sportsmen's blue and gray shirts. We found them sitting 200 r.OOXKYTLLE TO SAT^ATOfiA. on the ground with their backs to their favorite trees, read- iug. They dropped their books, greeted us heartily, and gathered around us as tliey offered us a liiHoek for a divan, and we chatted pleasantly of college friends of theirs whom I happened to know. CIIAPTEK XXII. The last niglit l)f*forf our departure from Raquette Lake, we experieneed one of the fierf;est of Adirondack storms. The rain, wind, tliunder and lightning and dashing of waves were really frightful, in the pitchj' darkness of mid- night ; and I trembled l)j the hour for the staunchness of cotton cloth and tent-ropes and the firmness of tent-jx-gs. Tlie force of the stf)rm of both rain and wind was at its i.ighest at about '4 oflock A. ^I. I had been awake for a long time, startled almost momentarilj' by the crash and roll of thunder and the vivid lightning, and the tierce beating of the rain and wind. I more than half expected that at anv moment our frail tent would Ije swept bodily away, leaving us prostrate under our lilankets, exposed to the full force of the storm. It seemed as if it would never cease. It raged more and more tiercely. Suddenly, when the rain was dashing in heaviest toiTcnts and at the height of the gale, I heard a snap and a flapping as if a sail had torn loose from the yards, and felt a heavj' gust of wind on my face. Throwing off the blankets, I jumped up as if I had heard the yeU of a panther at my ear, and rushed to the front end of the tent. A loosely fixed tent-peg at the opening had been drawn, the strings holding the curtains had snapped like threads, and the curtains themselves 202 BOONEVn.T.E TO ^AEATOGA. were flapping and snapping in the wind like a whiplash. There was imminent danger that our cloth house would " inflate " like a balloon and "go up " and off into the trees behind us. However, I managed to seize the curtains, and shouted to John, who was now as wide awake as L to light a candle. He took a heav^- boot and with the heel drove the tent-peg firmly into its place, we fastened the curtains securely, and then let the tempest howl. We pulled on our bouts, to prepare for emergencies, fearing still that the tent would blow away, and crawled under our blankets again. But the gale gradually subsided, and we at length fell asleep. That was a famously uncomfortable night outside of the tent, but we really suffered nothing inside, except from our fears. Xed did not suffer at all, however, for he regarded the whole affair as • perfectly jolly." We awoke to find the rain still falling. Breakfast was taken in the tent, with a boat seat on a pail for a table, and our bed for chairs, while John prepared our meal outside as best he could. •John," said I, as he brought in an extra pile of pan- cakes, as broad as the frying-pan, " ' what would you have done, if the tent had blown off last night in the rain :•' " "Done? Why, Id 'ave stood behind a tree and muled it out "till morning! " We spent the forenoon in " muling it out ' in the tent, making up lost time in sleep, studying the guide-book, try ing to read a pocket copy of Tennyson, and occasionally dashing out in the rain to catch the signs of the weather. FOLDED TENT. — OFF TO BLrF MOU^fTAEC. 203 Finally, at noon, the rain ceased, the wind subsided, the sun came out as serene as Xeptune emerges from the waves after a storm : and we resolved to break camp, after dinner, and go to Blue Mountain Lake. Our stay at Raquette Lake had ]»een xery agreeable in many ways. We had seen royalty in the lake itself. The sunset views from the hill behind us were beautiful almost beyond comparison and quite beyond description. We had wandered about, to our heart s delight and content, upon the waters of that and Forked Lake: and we had seen and visited the camps of very pleasant people. But Ned never admit? that the Raquette is to be compared with Seventh Lake: and he declares he will never go in the wtxxis again where so many other people go. Dinner over, we again folded up our tent and stove, packed our blankets and diminishing stores, bade good-bye to the grand old trees under which we had rested in safety and comfort, rowed around to Dunnings landing and delivered over to him the board which had served as our table, and then shaped our course toward the mouth of Marion River, Avhich flows in from the east and is the out- let of Utowana. Eagle and Blue Mountain Lakes. After a few days upon the large lake, I was glad to be on a river again, near the forest on either side, and sometimes among the lily-pads where the deer had fed the night l>efore, or perhaps that very morning, as we could plainly see. There was a quiet restful ness in the air and the sur- roundings, a sense of peace and secmity, a close contact 204 BOONEVILLE TO SABATOGA. with primitive Nature herself, tliat were very grateful and satisfying. There is a single carry of half a mile, much traveled and easy, between Raquette and Utowana lakes — the only one we w^ere obliged to cross that day. The j(Mu-ney through Utowana and Eagle lakes was charming. On the northern shore of the latter, is a comfortable farm-house aiul a nidcly conducted farm of forty or fifty acres. Vic saw a number of cow^s feeding in a pasture sloping down to the shore, — a sight which savored so highly of civili/.al ion that 1 involun tarily attempted to adjust my neckerchief, which had wandered around under my woolen shirt collar from one shoulder to the other at its own free will, all (he way from Old. Forge. We saw Ned Buntline's old home, "The Eagle's Nest," a substantial little house of hewn logs, which stands near the shore and in front of the neat, white far- mer's cottage of later growth. Pushing and winding our narrow way up llie shallow and rocky inlet, we entered Blue Mountain Lake, and gazed upon a water view of surpassing loveliness. This, among smaller lakes, is what the Raquette is among the larger. It is three miles long and two wide. Says one author, in endeav- oring to convey some idea of its beauty: " Numerous islets and islands of various forms and aspects, some frowning with adamantine sternness, others smiling in robes of charm- lug green, lie in its waters.of translucent purity like agates and emeralds in settings of burnished silver. To traverse the winding water-courses formed b}^ these picturesque groups, is to penetrate a labyrinth of intricate and bewil- BLUE MOUNTAIN LAKE. — HOLLAND'S HOTEL. 205 dering avenues. The loveliness of the lake is greatly enhanced by the wild and majestic scenery surrounding it. Mountain peaks on three of its sides display their sid)linie fronts, and prei^niinent among them is the noble dome from wdiicli tlie lake derives its name." We quickly crossed tlie lake, and at al)ou1 si.x o'clock ran the prow of our boat upon the sandy beach in front of John Holland's hotel, on the south-east shore, walked up the winding path among the trees, and were again in a house. Ladies and gentlemen, young men and maidens, and merry children were in the parlors and out among the forest trees ; while on the broad verandah or piazza, sat and chatted and bantered a number of guides and woodsmen, among whom were "Captain" Calvin Parker of Forked Lake, and the famous Indian guide, modest and faithful old Mitchell Sabbatis from Long Lake,— to be joined an hour later by the redoubtable Alvali Dunning himself. We had intended to go into camp again here, l)ut there was good promise of rain before morning; it seemed very pleasant and protitaltle, in its way, to mingle with these original people congregated at the hotel; I M^as greatly attracted Ijy a good, kind, child-hearted old Doctor of Divinit}' upon whom 1 bestowed the entire contents of my medicine chest, carried in my vest-pocket; the seductive influence of a comfortable arm-chair moved me more than it is sportsmanlike to confess; Ned had had about all of the "real thing" that he cared for, although he would not admit it; John was doubly willing to surrender his suprem- 206 BOONEVILLE TO SARATOGA. acy as chief -cook; and so we left the tent folded up, and took rooms at the hotel. After supper, we took a final ride with John out upon the lake, for, on the morrow, we were to part with him; he to return westward, we, in a day or two, to go eastward. The ride was a little melanchol}^ because it was our last with John, whom both the lad and I had come to warmly regard as a i)ersonal friend. He had been as true and fa'ithful as a brother, and so strong and wise and discreet that in all our experience with him, in our long journey and camping, there had not been an accident, mistake or mishap. The rain came, sure enough, while we were on the lake. We went ashore on an island. John drew his boat on land, turned it over, with one end up on a limb, and we sat and talked the rain out in entire dryness and comfort. Even Ned confessed to some satisfaction, when we removed our clothing and went to bed in sheets again. But he could hardly sleep. " Do you think we shall ever see John again? " said he. " I never want any other guide but John." Silence for a while; — " How old do you think John is?" more silence; — " Do jou think, when I've grown up to be a man and come to the woods, that he will be too old to come with me as my guide ? " But we were tired, and, after our wakeful night in a storm under a tent, very sleepy; and even "John" was at lenath forgotten in the mvsteries of slumber-land. CHAPTER XXIII. With the morning, we arose from om- conch thoroughly refreshed, not a vestige of fatigue, aclie or languor remain- ing. We sadly shook hands with John, and he started on his long way alone across the lakes, down the winding and lonely streams and over the hard carries, toward Stickney Camp, and on to his home,— only to come back again in a few days, with other sojourners in the wilderness, but not to be "Our John" again, perhaps, for many, many a day, perhaps never. May the years rest lightly on his wise head and on the brave true heart! And may the last "carry" he makes, as he goes to the Unknown Shore, be easy and light, and bring him safe to a good "Camp", where there shall be no night nor storm! We availed ourselves of an opportunity to make the ascent of Blue .AEountain with a party of gentlemen at the hotel, and their guides. The mountain rises nearly 4000 feet above the level of the sea, and is a conspicuous figure in the landscape for many miles, from every direction. We had gazed upon its brow bathed in blue, when on Bald Mountain. We had seen it when out upon Raquette Lake. We had caught glimpses of it on winding streams. It now reared its huge front right above us. The mystery which seemed to dwell on the rugged heights fascinated us the more, the nearer we approached this grand Sphynx of the wilderness. 208 BOONEVILLE TO SARATOGA. We made the ascent in an hour and a half, the latter part by a path uncomfortably steep and becoming, near the top of the mountain, a rough stairway of roots and rocks. It would both look and be dangerous if it were not for the trees and bushes which partially hide the roof -like declivity behind you and prevent you from sliding or rolling far if you stumble or make a mis-step. Just where the steepness of the ascent ceases, stands the pine tree up which, on cross-sticks firmly nailed upon it, Kate Field some years ago, and before Colvin's signal station was erected, bravely climbed to obtain a desirable outlook. Passing this point northward, perhaps half a mile or less, along the back bone of the mountain and still rising, ( although we found a swampy depression in our path, ) we came to a " timljer slash " of ten or fifteen acres, where the trees had been felled to give an unobstructed view in every direction. In the midst of this opening, founded upon primeval rock which bears the surveyor's cabalistic charactei-s ineradica- bly sunk into the solid mass, is erected a tall, steeple-like, skeleton structure of strongly-braced timbers, on the top of which is fastened the signal of bright tin, which can be seen flashing in the sun many miles away, from valle}^ and mountain peak. This is one of the man}' "signal stations" erected by Verplanck Colvin to aid in his great work of surveying the wilderness by triangulation. Upon these timbers we climbed, and perching theiv, twenty feet from the rocks beneath, gazed in every direction upon a wonderful scene. Until then we had never properly conceived of the grandeur of this remarkable region, nor SIGHTS FROM BLUE MOUNTAIN TOP. 209 of the " general plan " of the inoimtains, lakes and rivers of the Adirondack wilderness. It is forest, every where, and mountain, lake and river repeated on every hand; and all these ai'e seen, 1 imagine, with something of the effect produced upon tlie mind of the beholder by looking down upon these features of nature from a V)alloon. < )n the south and east, we saw mountains and valleys and the •' Indian Clearing," and the silvery, winding courses of Cedar and Indian rivers. At the west, we looked down uiK)ii Kaquette Lake apparently broken up into half a dozen lakes by the projecting tongues of forest; and beyond, upon liald Moimtain and forest without entl. Long Lake and ForkcHl Lake were almost at our feet. Owls Head ^loun- lain, its bald brow bare in the sunlight, seemed not far off; but beyond, the caravan of huge, elephantine backs moved olf in procession toward the Canadian line. Turning our gaze to the north-east the grandem- of the scene was almost overwhelming. The true Adirondacks were before us — the almost impenetrable region of mountain heights and gloomy chasms; the region of territic storms; where mountain peak bellows defiance to mountain peak in the thunders that rock even the mountains in their sui)ernatural force and fury. As far as the eye can reach, this grand mountain range extends, — its gloomy fierceness softened to the eye by the blue haze and the floods of sunshine resting upon the huge backs and shoulders and brows, but made thereby even more shaggy, fierce and terrible to the imagi- nation which defies the air and sun, as haze and sunshine cast their robes over the sleeping patriarchs to hide their awful ness. 210 BOONEVILLE TO SARATOGA. Close at hand, too, we looked down into clear and peace- ful little ponds and lakes, nestled at the mountain's base in the undisturbed forest, and secure in their insignifi- cance from invasion l)y sportsman or lumber-fiend, and as beautiful and opalescent as pearls from the Orient. Our descent from the moiuitaiu, quite as trying to the muscles as the ascent, was accomplished in one hour. AVe lost our trail among the charred trunks of trees where a fire in the dry earth had prostrated several acres of the forest; and we experienced all the woes of a wretched scramble through an indefinitely enlarged brush-heap. Ned and I, however, still had vigor enough to spend an hour after supper in rowing on the lake and winding in and out among the charming islands, — a fitting complement to our day's experience on the mountain top. Our last day in the wilderness was ended. 'That night we repacked our bags and bundles; and as w^e did so, thoughts of work and study, home and domestic life, and of the great, noisy, dusty, busy, fretting and worrjing world outside were borne in upon us, — for the next morn- ing w^e were "going out." AVe w^ere called at 5:o0 A. M., breakfasted, and at 6:30 o'clock started for North Creek by an "extra," a three- seated "buck-board" stage, which comfortably accommo- dated five of us besides the locally renowned Mr. Wakely of " Wakely's Dam," who undertook to deliver us at North Creek, the northern terminus of the Adirondack Rail-Hoad, thirty miles distant, in time for dinner and the 3 :30 P. M. train ; and he did it — although at the imminent risk and OUTWARD. — NOKTH RTYETl. — SARATOGA. 211 eminent discomfort of his steeds. Wakely, a man of remarkable force and energy, doubly earned his reputation, that day, as a man to be depended on in an emergency, — but I pitied his horses. The road for ten miles, through tliick woods, was muddy and heavy, (although very good in drj- weather,) and we proceeded at the rate of three wearj" miles every long hour, until we reached Jackson's. For the remaining twenty miles tliere was a good road through a partiall}' cleared countr3\ winding around among the picturesque mountains, with manj" hills to climb and descend. The red raspber- ries, just then in their prime, grew by the road-side in won- derful profusion and excellence. While Wakely was urging his tired horses up the hills we tumbled out and, plunging into the bushes, "ate and ran " in a most ludicrous fashion, — visions of a train departing from one side of North Creek, as we approached on the other, stimulating our pace as we seized a last handful of berries and leaves and ran with all our might to the top of the hill and mounted to our seats without waiting for the horses to stop. Finally, the little town was reached, the puffing of the locomotive greeted us with an old familiar sound, the veri- table North River — the original Hudson — rolled its rapid current at our feet; and our journej" " through the wilder- ness " was completed. There was, however, an interesting rail-road ride to Saratoga, where we took a sleeping car, and woke up at home. j^if^AJMBEF^F^Y J^/^KE AND THE OSWEGATCHIE WATERS. CHAPTER XXIV. Early in the summer of 1878, there were frequent mys- terious gatherings of about a half dozen men of various ages and occupations, in tlie little back room, upstairs, over Reuben's store on 8alina street. Finally, one day early in July, when the pavements were growing hot, a strange collection of bags, boxes, bundles and packages of all sorts appeared in the rear room of the store, and then disap- peared by cart for the railroad depot, and away to the north. On Saturday morning, July 6th, the whole conspiracy, concocted in the little upper room, came out, and the papers got hold of it and duly reported that by the 5:15 train north, that morning, a ''lively party " of sportsmen left for a fortnight's sojourn in the "North Woods;" the party consisting of the venerable and genial angler Reuben, whom we had duly made Captain and Commissary, the Senator, the Sheriff, the Mayor, the writer who had been invested with the double office of Treasurer and Scribe, and the Junior, — to be joined at llermon by the 'Squire, a jolly Jus- tice, both witty in himself and a cause of wit in others. We had planned to spend two weeks on the Oswegatchie AVaters, in St. Lawrence County, making our central camp on the shore of Cranberry Lake, cruising up and down the lake and the Oswegatchie River which passes through it, 216 CRANBERRY LAKE. — THE OSWEGATCHIB. and visiting adjacent waters if we should find it agreeable to do so. To the 'Squire, as being " to the manor born" and famil- iar with men and measures in tlie region we were about to peacefuly invade, were committed the important details of employing guides, fixing upon the location of our camp — with positive instructions to see to it that an abundant and cold spring bubbled near it — and arranging that transpor- tation should be furnished for ourselves and our rather formidable bags and baggage. As a further precaution against a waste of time and comfort, the Junior, under orders from the Captain, preceded the rest of the party, two or three days, with all the heavy baggage, to prepare a reception in camp for men who expected to be very tired and hungry at the end of a long day of heavy traveling — for we firmly resolved to reach our destination the night of the very day we left home. We duly assembled at the station and lunched, and the Captain lighted a cigar. At Watertown we breakfasted, and the Commissary smoked a cigar. The Scribe's^ recol- lection fails as to the number of raih-oad changes we made, at each of which there was a anxious gathering up and transfer of rods, rifles and bags and bundles of the smaller sort ; but it is a historical fact that none of us were lost or left, and that, on counting the respective noses of the party at UeKalb Junction, there wasn't a vacancy. By stage to llermon, six miles, was a hot and dusty ride through an unattractive country. The 'Squire was hunted up and found, as l)usy as a C-ountry Justice could be, at his little oflEice. OFF FOR CRANBERRY LAKE. 217 Dinner over, at Hermon, the collective Captain and Oomniissaiy smoked. We all wrote and mailed our fare- wells to the vain world l)ehind nsi, and left our names witli the telegraph operator, with explicit instructions to hunt us U}) wllitllersoe^'er we should wander, if telegrams came, and to send means to bring us out of the wilderness, all or singh^ as the case should require. The strong vehicle which was to convey us, with the sturd}' steeds fresh for the long journey, wheeled up in front of the hotel ; our luggage was deposited therein ; the last things were looked after ; — but the 'Squire had to be hunted up again. He was found, and we all got aboard. But the 'Squire had forgotten his lantern and cigars, and went off in search of them. After some further waiting it was evident he was lost again, and again we hunted him uj>. He had a faculty of not staying found a great while, all through the trip. Reuben smoked, and a-hemed! He was nervous at the delay. The veteran of many an expe- dition had learned how precious mid-day moments are. Finally Ave were actually all aboard and off, in one jolly load, at 1:20 P. .AI.. bound direct for the foot of (h-anberry Lake, thirty six miles distant. The Captain lighted a fresh cigar as Burnham cracked the whip, and we shouted our good-byes to the assenil)led village men and boys on the hotel piazza, and rolled dustily out of town forest- ward. It was a hot day, the road rough and up and down hill, and it was O: P. ^L, when we reached Clarksboro, twenty-two miles from DeKalb Junction and well into the woods. 218 CRANBERRY LAKE. — THE OSWEGATCHEE. Horses and men were tired, the dinner of trout and Venison was bountiful and good, — and there was something so deli- cious in the air and scenerj^ of this forest-flanked, mountain- girt and nearly deserted little hamlet, once bus}^ and noisy with the industry of converting the rich ore of this region into iron, — the way to the lake through the dark woods was long and rough, — indeed, there was no help for it, much as we regretted the delay, and we concluded to remain over night, and finish the coming fourteen miles of our journey in the cool, earh' morning. Something of the day, and its most comfortable por- tion, was left to us; and we enjoyed and emploj^ed a part of it in strolling about the deserted iron works, and inspecting the large buildings filled with slowly decay- ing charcoal, the heaps of valuable ore, the disjecta membra of heavy and costly machinery, and the falls, on the very brink of which the dam for tlie iron works had been erected. Here was another of those wrecks of great business enter- prises where "somebody blundered,'' — the blunder in this case being in forgetting the cost o'' transporting a ton of iron over a crazy, wooden rail-waj^ out to civilization. The iron is there in al)uudance and of excellent quality, w^ood is plenty enough for charcoal to reduce the ore, — but the ruin of the " Clinton Iron Works" tells the rest. Having all dulj^ philosophized, and lamented the folly of this enterprise, our thoughts turned to more cheerful themes. The Captain lighted his seveuteenthl}^ cigar, jointed his rod, and, — followed by us, admiring disciples of the piscatory art as practised well nigh to perfection by CAPTAIN AND SENATOK GO A-FISHING. 219 our wortlijr chief , — went down back of the little hotel to the river where it is broad and calm after its plunge over the dam and down the fall. A small, narrow, fiat-bottomed boat was secured, into which got tlie Senator who essaved tlie oars, and the Captain who was to catch the trout. There was altogether too much weight of dignity in one end of the craft, and weight of bodv in the other end, for safet3\ The cockle shell rocked and dipped. The Captain couldn't swim a stroke. "Take me asliore, Senator!" cried the Captain; "we shall spill out of this thing, certain! " "Oh, no," said the Senator, taking another hitch on the seat to balance the boat; " we'll be all right in a minute." But, as he said so, in came a hotel pitcher full of water, the Captain issued Ids most peremptory orders, and the Senator, who doesn't like a wetting himself, shoved back to the shore. Procuring a small, bare-foated bo}^ — a sort of tug to an ocean steamer — the good Captain again duly . bestowing himself in the stern of the ticklish craft, with his little spiderdike fellow at the oars in place of the Sena- tor, moved beautifully forth, (alas! there was no artist in our company,) casting deftly right and left his choicest tlies, all about the pool, under the rocks and trees, up to the very foot of the descending sheet of the river ; but cast he ne'er so deftly, not a rise did he get. Still he smoked and still he cast, and lustily now, and gently then, did the small boy ply the oars; and the slowly descending sun winked and wooed, and insects hummed and skimmed and dipped in the dimpling water; but never a trout glad- 230 CRANBERRY LAKE.— THE OSWEGATCHIE. (leued the vision of the veteran, and not a break of the sur- face encouraij^ed us who stood and lounged on the shore and admired and waited and nijide elal)orate jokes. The Commodore (for so we voted him, while the boy defied correct designation ) finally furl — reeled in his line, gathered in his unavailing flies and came ashore. There Avas 3'et light enough, and we followed him, in a clambering wa}', to some supposed fishing grounds above the dam among rocks and eddies and pools, where trout ought to have been but were not. They were off, for the hot weather, at the cool spring-holes. It is not the duty of the Scribe to record here the whispered consultations and conspiracies, that evening, among the well informed of the part)'', in regard to him of the vocal nose and his allotment in the doubling-up at bed- time made necessary by our limited accommodations. At four o'clock in the morning we were up, breakfasted as soon as possil)le, and were off again, in good order and excellent spirits, but decoroush-^ mindful that it was Sun- day morning — a matter which our jovial Captain, in par- ticular, nev(n- forgets whether in the woods or out. The cool, fresh, dew}" forest and pure, woods}' air were deli- cious; and the roaviiig. deep and abundant for all the wants of our forest household. The Lake is about nine miles long, varying from one to perhaps four or five miles in width, and in shape much like a huge, ragged stomach, through which the waters of the beautiful Oswegatchie River pass from the south and on their devious northerly way to the 8t. Lawrence. The dam at its foot was built and is maintained to gather water with which to swell the river below^ at certain 222 CKANBEERT LAKE. — THE OSWEGATCHIE. seasons of the year, when logs are to be floated down to the mills In the settlements; and the flow is regulated by blocks placed above each other in a strong, framed sluice-way, and which are put in or hoisted out by machinery, as the water is to be raised or lowered. It makes the lake, in fact, a large reservoir, greatly enlarging it, setting the water back in the streams, into the coves and bays and over the low- lands, and everywhere drowning and killing the trees on the flooded lands and along the shore. The ghostly forms of leafless trees, stretching their helpless arms aloft, stand in groups and phalanxes here and there in the wide waters, and a heavy, ugly fringe of like dead trees lines all the shores; while trunks and limbs and uptoru stumps, tossed and ground and woven together by the waves among the standing trees, make a landing exceedingly diflicult. In front of our own camp, the labor of two men for a day was nccessar}^ to make an opening both safe and ample for our use. The scenery, of course, is seriously impaired. The low descending fringe of green, seen on other lakes coming down to the clear, open water's edge, is here wanting; and the eye grows weary ol" dead tree-tops and drowned forests. But on nearly every side the grand old hills and mountain brows lift themselves up with coronal fronts of forest green; the bright waters and wavelets gurgle and murmur around the rapid craft of the hunter and the flsherman, and the balm and purity of the perfect air of the forest are here as elsewhere a continual delight. CHAPTER XXV. Our first uiglit in the tents was glorious in its slumbers. " Hemlock feathers " for beds, and blankets and mosquito bars made us entire 1}' comfortable; and the deep stillness soothed us more gently than music itself into speedy and utter forgetfulness of all the fatigues of our journey. With the early dawn the Captain emerged from his tent, cigar in mouth, impatient to seize and ply his rod. With stentorian voice he roused the sleepy guides who, not yet having built their own camp, had stretched themselves for the night on the ground about the camp-tire, without bed or blankets. lu an instant every man of us was wide awake. That voice of command was new to us. Later in our camping experience it came to our ears and passed as a troubled dream, and we slumbered on until the magic word " break- « fast! " was shouted into our tents. ' ' Up and dressed " is a phrase which means something when only one's coat, hat and boots are removed for the night. A wash basin on a little mound, a piece of soap on a chip, and a towel hung on a limb, a pocket comb, in the morning — and in a twinkling, if breakfast is waiting, the toilet is made. A morning plunge in the lake, and the delicious sensations of the loving touch of a thousand soft and almost intangible arms bearing you up and caressing 224 CRAKBETIKY LAKE. — THE OSWEGATriTTE. 5"on, are the reward of early risino;, wliich you may liave for the asking M'hen camping in the woods by lake or stream. The guides were, most of them, 3'oung, vigorous, good- liearted and, withal, rather noisy fellows. Our company, all told, now consisted of our party, seveu in number, and six hearty guides. Thirteen hungry men to f,eed, distant from a base of supplies, with a lot of harum-scarum young fellows for cooks, and with a given quantity of groceries, was the problem with which the Commissary grapjiled and wrestled that morning, with a clear apprehension of other mornings to come, as he went hither and thither, directing, helping and alwa3's smoking; and before our two weeks were u]) the problem floored even him. Figures won't lie, and his were not at fault; but careless waste spoils the most generous mathematical calculations. The most noted tishing ground near us was ' ' Brandy Brook," a stream of fair size and ver}' cold, coming into the lake from the east, a little north of us, and gathering something of its surprising coldness from Edgar Mountair^. To this stream, in two boats, went the Captain, the Senator and the Sheriff, About sixty-five large and beautiful trout were taken; but these gentlemen greatlj^ bewailed the roots, snags, dead limbs and trees that obsti-ucted the stream and made fl)^ tishing a mournful proceeding. On their return to camp, that evening, the Captain, who is an admirable story-teller and illustrates like a born panto- mimist, with great glee related the story of the Senator's experience. THE SEXATOK " YANKS !" — BRANDY BROOK. 225 The Senator, with light bamboo, and after an honest and ox'ntlemanly fashion, was seeking to entice mlmofoniinalis with his flies, casting skillfully among limbs and snags, but quite unmindful of what might hajipen if a trout should seize the line. There was a leap, a turn of the wrist, and the Senator had his tish, a fair sized one, well hooked. The wily trout plunged under roots and snags, wound the leader and flies round and round, in a mazy way, int(^ an inextricable snarl. The rarest skill couldn't save him ; and after a little he was free, but triumphantly trailing behind him a portion of the leader and flies. " Senator," said the Captain, who in another boat had intently watched the contest, "that style of fishing won't do here, — there are too many things lying around loose ; when you hook a trout you must just yank Mm right out I'' The Senator had his bamboo and his sportsman's in- stincts, and they were both alike opposed to this ; but the results of gentlemanly fishing were so far all in favor of the party of the second part. In a moment he struck an- other fish. "Yank him out! Lay down your rod and yank like blazes I" cried the Captain in great excitement, as he saw what a fine fellow it was that leaped. The Senator was excited too. He threw down his rod in the boat, seized the line, -and hand over hand pulled for dear life and victor3'. "Do you call this fishing ! " fairly groaned the Senator. A pull— 'Blank this style of catching trout 1" Pull— "Come out of here I Blank, blank, if I ain't ashamed " — 226 CKANBEinn' T.AKE. — the OSWEOATriUR. pull — ''of this whole" — pull — " blauk business. There I Fv^e got you I but, blank the whole blank business ! I feel as if 1 had been stealing sheej) : blank nie if 1 don't ! Let's go to camp, Captain. — T don't think I eaiv to tish if j'ou call this tishing I " The rest of us went up the P>ig Tnlet at the head of the lake, through the tloodwood and dead standi,ng trees — at some places very difficult of passage after leaving the main body of the lake — fully nine or ten miles from camp, to the foot of the rapids where the Oswegatchie comes tumbling into the dead water. Not a trout did we take in all that day, althcmgh we saw some large fellows leaping in sport. It will not do for the scoruer to insinuate that the fault was in the tishermen, — rather let it lie laid to proverbial fisherman's luck.— for the Captain and the Sheriff, whose skill needs no vindication, subsequently' had there precisely the same experience. It was the general understanding of the party, — a sort of unwritten law, as binding as the English Constitution, — that the "good places" should be passed around ; and by virtue of this law the Mayor and I were permitted to lish Brandy Brook the next day, under a sun that broiled and roasted after a most vigorous and emphatic fashion. The Captain and Sheriff had devoted several hours vof faithful labor to removing obstructions, so that there were various open spaces and reaches of water where lly casting was feasible. We fished as skillfully and devotedly as we knew and with genuine ardor, ascending the flooded por- tion of the stream to the "quick" water. At the close of the THE mayor's tictoky. 227 day it ^vil.s ftjiind that I was beaten in the count by one trout. My friend cauglit one and saved him ; and I had a controversy witli a single trout, he on one side of a log and I on the other, in which he came off and got off best. That fish lamented a lacerated mouth, and I a quarter-of-a- pound trout. ("lIAPTEPv XXVI. All the way from the little upper room to East Bay. Ave had heard the praises of Grass River simg by itiembers of our party who had been there in former years. Trout were to be had there, large and plentiful, almost for the asking. Lines could be laid in pleasant places, and tlics cast in many pools where lurked the eager and gameful fish. The true angler's heart in every one of us yearned for this promised land and its countless Avealth of genuine sport. But the way thither involved toil and trouble which even the most ardent sportsman among us dreaded to en- counter. The time, however, for decisive action of some sort had come, for the thirteen men of vigorous appetite had consumed the one little trout the second day's fishing had brought to camp, and clamorously asked for more. The fish of Grass River, it was said, were fair, — but it was conceded in the same breath that only the brave deserve the fair. Then it was that the Sheriff and the Scribe arose and declared themselves to l)e the truly brave men of the party, and stepping out from the hungry ranks volun- teered to go forth as a forlorn hope. On the morning of the third day we set out on oiu- ex- pedition to these happy fishing grounds. Taking with us two excellent guides, Ed. Young and George Sawyer, and provisions for two days, Ave jiroceeded down llu; lake GRASS RIVER. — JOE BOLIO. 229 to Thomas's Hotel, three-fourths of a mile above the dam, on the east shore, carried one boat over a quarter of a mile to Silver Lake, as beautiful a little sheet of water as was ever made ; and then we safely crossed this lake, four of us and our luggage, bestowed in Young's little Rushton boat 13^ feet long and weighing thirty-eight pounds. We pushed on through the woods to Owens's Plains — an open- ing where one John Grimshaw, in a forlorn way, cultivates a few sterile acres and tarries to "grow up with the coun- try,"— and struck Grass River at the falls, about two and a half miles from Thomas's. In the woods we were caught in a heavy thunderstorm, but, putting on our rubber coats, we trudged patiently and persistently on, — the only genu- inel}' contented personage of the four being the guide who carried the boat over his head. Crossing the river above the falls on big stones in the river bed, we entered a .second growth of spruces so thickly grown and interwoven that we were obliged to cut our way with an axe. Emerging from this, and going on easterly, we at length came to a good woods-road running from the Grass River Reservoir out to Colton, and reached the Reservoir at half-past two . o'clock in the afternoon. Joseph Bolio, a black-eyed, wiry, voluble little Canadian Frenchman of Yankee speech, keeper of the dam, furnished us with a good dinner and his society. Somehow jMcking up the fact that there was a lawyer in the party, he sought an interpretation of the game law as to killing deer, which might bear favorably upon a " little dithcully " he had had with the authorities, out in the settlements, resulting in lii< 280 CRANBERRY LAKK. — THE OSWEGAT( IIIK. arrest. However, as lie had executed a fleet and skillful tiauk inoveineut just at the nick of time, and Avas now vigilantly observant of all new comers in his domain, and knew the woods thereabouts and their by-ways and retreats better than any other living man, he was in no special need of any suggestions, of a strictl)' leg^l nature, to promote the law's delays, further than to " keep his eye peeled." The Sheriff had to have his little joke smacking of his court room ex- perience, and dryl}' remarked, "that's the best peal for Joe!" Procuring another boat after dinner, we set out on our journey up the river. Joe thought we might pick up a trout or two in the Reservoir before we came to the flood- wood. Ominous words! but they fell unheeded on our ears, and we jointed our rods and selected our choicest flies — for were we not going up Grass River? Alas! the water had been drawn low ; we speedily reached the flood-wood, — acres and acres of trees, great and small, hemlocks and spruces, torn from the l)anks above and dri-ven by the rushing waters of the Spring freshets into the basin through which we were to And our way. The surface was nearl}' covered, but there was a passage somewhere if we could find it. It was so intricate, however, that we often mistook it and were led into places where retreat was the only way out; and we lost much time and strength in wearih^ forcing our boats in and out among tree-tops, logs and tough, drowned alders. We at length were through the trees, but a worse calamit}" befell us in the drowned alder swamp, through which we were often compelled to "no thoroughfare."— "i'ye been here!" 231 push and pnll our way by main force, guided l)y tlie slight signs of l)rol<;en or rubbed limbs where other boats had sometime preceded us, Init as often going hap-hazard, on a "bee line," in the general direction up-stream, the per- versely crooked channel utterly lost. Words fail to adequatel}' describe our journeying through this wilderness of difficulties. For nearly four hours we toiled and struggled up the tortuous and uncertain way, hunting for the main channel and often finding our.^elves in a "pocket," — a case of "No Thoroughfare," with no friendly sign-board, — and then backing out or pushing with all our force through acres of dead alders. At length we entered a little stream comparatively free from obstacles. The Sheriff, "who had been there." declared that we had missed the river and were entering a branch from ]\Iassa- wepie Lake. The sagacious guides argued from the "lay of the land " and the character of the woods that this must be the rivei-, w liilc wliat appeared to the Sheriff to be the river-bed— the entire valley being flooded— was only a l)ay. " I tell you again, boys," said the Slieriff, emphatically, " Fve l)een here before, and tliis isn't the river. We shall bring up in Massawepie, sure, if we keep on." •'Well, Sheriff." I ventured to say. '.' 1 have never been here. I dout know Grass River from the Euphrates, by occvdar demonstration, — and Fm not likely to. if we don't get out of this everla-sting swamp before dark; but 1 can tell you one thing,— these guides generally know pretty well what they are talking about, when it's a trail or an inlet or an outlet or channel that they are hunting for. Better ' U'ive 'em their head,' Sheriff." 232 CRANBERRY LAKE. — TIIE OSWEGATCHIE. " No, — I've been up Grass River befori', and this isn't it, — I'm for turning- back and tryinu' another course." Tlie SlieritT has a host of u'ood traits, and ])ersistence in his opinions is one of them; — but Ave lost a u'ood hour of day-biiht in fruitless .search o\' another channel, to gratify him. and at leuiith puslied doubtfully uj) the narrow stream we had at first entered. Familiar landmarks s(M)n ai> peared. and then avc knew Ili;il alllionuh well in'the wood- we were by no means lost. ■' r>oys. I own npl" at leniilh said the SheritV, as the truth dawned on his nund. ' I'm a cidi»rit of the tirst water. This is Grass Kiver, and no nuslake! I dont believe I know nuich about the woods after all. If any body insists on duckimi: me for that extra hour of hard work, I'm read}', — I shan't makt^ any resistance." The ^tream was now within its original banks, twisting about as if in pain, and nearly cro.ssing itself in its aindess sauntering down the bi-oad valley. Tiie huge, bare front of " r>urnt Kock " — a welcome land-mark — frowned down upon us as we crept by its foot; and at seven o'clock we reached an old bark-.shanty, or ojien camp, which the Sheritf recognized as the one once oecujned by him for a noon-day rest. Here we stopped for the night, "as tired as tired could be.'' We had li'ied the lishing in the river below at a few points, after reaching cleai' water, but with out success; ami our supper, eaten with a keemiess of aj) petite that made it royal, cojisisted of only colTee, crackers, chee.se and onions. We were caminng on Grass Kiver, but were troutless! RAT HOLE CAMP. — COUNCIL. — RETURN. 233 The guides built a rousing fire, wc dried oiu- cloUiing which was saturated with perspiratir^u from our severe toil, smoked and rubbed on tlie tar-oil; and the Slieriff and I crawled into " Kat-ilole Cami»," (a snug fit for two.) while the tired guides tlirew down a few lioughs on two sides of the fire, (I piled up a few l)ushes to keep the wind off from them.) pulh'd on llieir coats and hats, and lay down to sleep without roof, bed, pillow or blanket. In the morning, l)efore breakfast, I took a boat and went up the river, fisliing on my own account, with a lofty ambition to vindicate the fame of Grass Kiver wliich liad suffered su' for making himself comfortable in the best places. Grievously dis- appointed, and not without expectation oH a full chorus of "I told you so! " with variations, from our comrades, when we should again reach them, we reluctantly re,solved to turn our prows toward the home-camp. After concluding our meager l^reakfast, the Sheriff and his guide pushed on down to Bui'nt Rock to begin his fish- ing there, and twenty minutes later, after the water was quiet again, my guide and I dropjied slowly down stream while I cast carefully over eveiy fyot of water where a trout might lurk. I soon struck a little pool from which I took ten small trout, — all the inhabitants of that place, I imagine, — and then we slowly proceeded until we overtook the Sheriff. I caught but fourteen trout in all, but was elated that I had beaten the Sheriff, mj^ acknowledged superior in angling. Down stream w^e went, and tlirough tlood-jams, drift -wood and alders, with which we were now painfully familiar, to Bolio's again. While waiting for dinner, we tried our luck in the swift water, eddies and pools in the river below the dam, but without a rise. It is evidently the place of all others for Spring fishing, but July fishing is quite another thing. After dinner another sturdy tramp, and we reached the falls. The water from the lleservoir had raised the river until the stepping stones of the day before were no longer available, and we w^ere boated over the bay below the falls. TRPUT-POOL. — "in may." ^85 Here was the most promising pool for a kisty trout with which my eyes were ever gladdened. The water came tumbling and tearing down the beautiful river among the boulders, and by a sloping fall slid swiftly into the basin l)elow, around which stood large forest trees with thick undergrowth down to the water's edge. It was beautiful in itself, and delightfully enough situated and environed to be, under the surface, a very Garden of Eden for the trout family. I knew better,— but, while waiting for the boat, which the guides had taken across the river above, and off into the woods, before they knew of our inability to cross,— I rigged my rod; and standing upon a shelving rock almost in the middle of the stream, yielded to the temptation which I knew was a delusion, and cast my prettiest and longest. It was of no use. This was not a spring-hole, and no trout in good society would so far for- get his position as to remain in town after the first of July, —or admit that he was at home if he was unable to be off at the Summer watering places. The hermit of Owens's Plains told us, however, for our comfort, of marvelous catches in this same pool — ''in May.' As we climbed up the river bank and emerged from the forest into the clearing, we were astonished to tind the jovial, careless and happy 'Squire, quite at home, talking with Grimshaw and exhibiting a large trout. There he was, in his shirt sleeves, with his rod and his one trout, without coat, blanket, provisions, boat or guide. "Lost again, 'Squire?" <'^o —I'm here; and what's more, I've got the boss trout, 28t> CRANBERRY LAKE. — THE OSWE<",ATCIITE. genllomeul That's tlie kind of trout you want to be catc-li- inir; — it's tlu' kind 1 take when I actually li'o a-tishinii-, my- si'lf, and not nuMvly uo alouii' for company. "" " Well, wlu're on earth did you cc^nie from, how did you U'et here, and \Yhere did you u'et your trout ? " " One thinu.- at a lime, ii'entlemen. I came from Cook's, below the dam. Left liiere this morninii;. Fisiied up the river, and just uof here, liftecn mimiles aii'o. waitinii; for somethinu" to turn up. ^'ou"ve turned up. and I'm ndii'hty glad of it, for I'm as hungry as a Itear, — I am. C^rimshaw has just sent for a drink of water, but I'm afraid of water alone. — 1 am. Haven't you got something that '11 take the malaria out of it?" "No, — we don't carry the article; — but, 'S(j[uire. how about the trout — the biggest cue we've seen in all these parts? " " Well, I got him in the river, down here. Big one, isn't he! Oh, he's the boss trout!— that's the kind I catch when I reallj' go a-tishing, I tell you. ' And he stuck to his stor}'. The " bottom facts " had not then come out, but of those, more ancm. It was a fact, however, well enough known in camp, that the ' Squire was the poorest fisherman in the part3^ — and just how the "boss trout" fell to his lot was the mystery on which we pondered and about which there was expended that night, aroimd the smudge fire, an unexampled amount of fun and railler}-. Taking the ' Squire in tow, we came on to Thomas's to- gether, procured another boat, and finally' reached the home-camp completely exhausted — the Grass River trip « ORASvS IlIVER TIIIP ENDED. 237 ended. The Slierif!', who had been one of the chief sing- ers in the anthems about Grass Kiver, was very unhappy. His song was now a wail. As for me, to return alive was cau.sc enough for rejoifing, and besides, I had seen the worst tlie wilderness has to offer. But I. must add, to be just even to Grass Kiver, that it is the Dam ("with a l)ig, big I),") and Ihe Reservoir that make the region we visited the most desolate I ever saw in the woods; and that the river l)elow the Reservoir is as wildly beautiful as the heart of man can desire. A night's rest, in the woods as well as out, puts new courage in the heart. The general filling of things that night, on crawling into our tents, seemed very much like sawdust. The ne.xt morning, however, everything wa.=? glorious again, like the sunshine. CHAPTER XXVII. During; our absence tliere had l)eeu most persistent and skillful lisliiug at Brandy Brook, but with " uuac'countable misses,"— <* la Creedmoor. Indeed, that stream was a prob- lem and m3'ster3^ Trout of fabulous si/e leaped and played there daily before the e3^es of the eager C'aptain, Ijut with hardl}' an exception, after the tirst day, thej^ refused every proffered tly and bait of every description. The Captain and the Senator, both veterans of the angle and ecpial to almost wwy emergency in the art, were hopelessly baffled in all their efforts. The}" discussed those perverse trout up and down, horizontal!}' and diagonal!}' ; recalled and applied all known facts and principles relating to the habits and disposition of the trout family; tried, convicted and duly sentenced tliem to be caught; and demonstrated each night, before the full council of the camp-fire, that they of neces- sity must succumb on the morrow to a shrewdly chosen or newly concocted allurement. But each morrow the trout woke up witli a new kink of their own, whereby the plans of these valiant fishermen were brought to naught. Reu- ben might smoke, and smoke, and thunderously " Ahem!" as he nightly pondered over the perversity of Brandy Brook trout; the Senator — as keen in a trout-hunt as in an argument in a law^ court — might elucidate the principles w^hich, according to undisputed testimony, guide the salmo BRANDY BROOK TROUT.— DOWN THE RIVER. 339 family, and forge a chain of logic which, 1)}' all precculents, they could not break; the Sheriff, with grim grit and mul- titudinous tackle, might hunt them with the detective's re- lentless vigilance and sagacity; but it was all in vain. Those noble fellows of Brandy Brook leaped and rolled their broad, spotted, shining sides in the sun, andgandioled like lambs on the hill-side; but the}^ refused, with an an- chorite's virtue, every tempting oifer, flapped their tails at logic, and eluded the stealthy hunt with double the (h'tec- tive's skill. Rarely, to be sure, one was cnught. and upon examining his stomach to learn what his royalty fed upon tliat he had grown so great and so hauglitily indifferent, it was found to contjun nothing The Captain, to this day, with a slow and significant shake of the head, main- tains that the mysterious conduct of a Brandy Brook trout " beats all!" But it is comforting to believe that every evil fortune has its compensations. The ill-luck of the Grass River expedition and tlie taiilaiizing failures at Brandy Brook gave us both food for wise meditation and a broad and shapely cloud U)V the silver lining that we were about to behold— besides fvu-nishiug a new illustration of proverbial fisherman's luck. Some of our party had been to the river below the lake and reported, on their return, successes which inspired a general exodus from tlie home-camp. The next morning after the Grass River experience, five of us, Avith guides, went down the lake and below the dam foi- two days' fish- ing; leaving the Captain and the Sheriff in camp, still un- 240 GRANBERRT LAKE. — THE OSWECIATCHIE. willing to abandon the contest at Brandy Brook. Three of the live Avent down the river to Cook's Spring-Hole and several mikss further, realizing their fondest hopes. The Mayor and 1 spent the tirst day at Basin Brook, a little cold stream putting into the river from the southerly shore, about half a mile below the dam. It is navigable for small boats only about a quarter of a mile, after ^ which it creeps around among the overhanging aldei's in such a be- wildering and contracted way, that in the cool shades and among the holes and springs the trout are entirely safe from even the enterprising small boy and his alder-rod and tow-string. AVe fished from our l)oat iu a, most comfort- able fashion, a part of the day, aiul took out one hundred and five trout, most of them of fair size aiitl giving us excellent sport. We all spent the night at the house of M. G. Dodds, wiio is keeper of the dam. He and his pleasant family live a very retired but most sensible life on the river bank near the place of his labors— the rapid river l)elow the bluff making delightful music to go to sleep by. At supper, some very vile slanders were uttered by the Senator and others as to the Scribe's appetite, which he endeavored to render innocuous by intimating that he was both Scribe and Treasurer, and was therefore entitled to double rations. And he bears testimony — and will not be deterred from it by any insinuations, past or future, — that the trout cooked by Mrs. Dodds, and coming smoking-hot upon the table by the platter-full, at stated intervals of about five minutes each, for a whole hour, were the best that he has ever TROUTING ON BASIN BROOK. 241 eateu; and lie admits, for the purposes, liowever, of this statement on]3\ that he lias eaten an appalling iinmher during- the course of his fronting experience. Bright and early, we were all on the ri v er again. But these were among the da3's when our friends at home were liope- lessly hot and uncomfortable, and the thermometer reck- lessly reveling among the nineties with aspirations, almost realized, lor the tuneful niiiely and nine. Even we, in the woods, sulfered much this day, and fled from tlie mid da}' sun upon the water to the mossy river banks, and lunched and slept and smoked and slept again, the faithful smudge keeping guard, in the cool shade under the heav}' crowned trees. Our catch of trout, therefore, while satisfactory was much smaller than on the day before. During the actual time of fishing, on both days, probably not tive minutes elapsed without landing a trout of good size, and I, at least, was satisfied with mere numbers. Like Alexander of old, however, I longed for other worlds to conquer, and hoped before we should leave the woods to take at least one "big, big trout." While we Avere tishing near the mouth of the brook, and at the height of our sport, a solitary fisherman in butternut, one of the hangers-on at the Dam, paddled down the river. " Our fun is up, Mayor," remarked I; " that fellow is com- ing right in here, — no; there he swings, out into the river. He's a gentleman, and no mistake!" And, sure enough, he quietly rowed around to a landing below us, came ashore, and Avith Ids formidable tamarack i^ole and chalk- line went several rods above us on the stream and began 242 CRANBERRY LAKE. — THE OSWEGATCHIE. his fishing-. He threshed the water fearfully with his big line and hea\y bait, but caught nothing. I was so impressed with the fellow's consideration that I wanted to see him catch something. " jNIy friend," I calted out, "you are not having much luck with bait, are you?" "No; — guess I've got too big a hook, or something, — they don't seem to care a cent for worms to-day." ■ I think 1 can help you," said T; "if you'll come to the bank here, and throw me ^our line, I'll give 3^ou a tly that the trout seem \o like. — There, that brown hackle, — a prettj' good sized one, you see, — has been tlie lucky one for us. I liope it will be for you " "Thank j^ou, ever so mucli," the honest fellow replied, as I noosed it on the end of his line and tossed it into the water. That night, at Dodds's, I found he had caught a " good mess " of trout, and I bad made a friend. I parted from hiiu witli the proud consciousness of having both rewarded and stinudaU'd a virtue. Saturday night found us all at the home-camp again, where we six'iil a (juiet Sunday, the Captain's example and luiuttcred ordeis having a most I)enign effect; — although I aui not sure but certain ])ooks wilh feathers and steel in them were coimed rather than those for which we owe thanks to the art pi-eser\'ati\'e; and the ((uestion was more than once raised, " Have we a tailor among us? " A week of our vacation was gone, and already the shadow of our leave taking from our sylvan home and the delights of life in the woods was beginning to settle down upon our hearts. CHAPTER XXVIII. Our second week of sport opened with ;i deer-hunt, — which it is iillowabh' to report, since we had onl)' theliunt. We reasoned well, I think, that tishermen should not live by trout and jiork aUuie, but that a little venison now and then is relishe(rb\- the ti sin' est of nun. ]Men and oiiides were sent out upon the lake and ordered lo take sta- tions at various designated points of land at which the deer were likely to take to the water. There we awaited the now faint and then risinu' and sAvellinsi' notes of the hound, the rustle throuuh the leaves and branches, and the jiluniie of the tleet deer into the lake. My g-uide and I waited and louniicd on a rock; watched the gulls wheeling about their nests on Gull Island; listened, and heard no sound but the voice of the loon. One by one the boats returned to camp, without a shot. The whimpering and disappointed hound was picked up on the opposite shore of the bay and taken into one of the boats and brought iu. And then we phinned new^ ventures for the day. 1 had partially engaged with three of our party, succes- sively, to go up tlie Oswegatchie river, above the lake, for two or three days. But the story of Grass River was too fresh in their minds for the fair consideration of an expedi- tion, the glories of which were vouched for by the word of our guides alone. However, the spirit of the great Alex- 244 CRANliKltHY LAKE. — THE OSWEGATCIIIE. aiuler still moved iiic, and I resolved to go at any rate, alone if I must. Selecting Ed. Young, of Fine, as my guide, and taking his little Rusliton boat, we .set out at 2:80 o'clock P. M. We took tea, crackers, maple sugar, a fry- ing-pan, knives and forks, cups, blankets, a small axe, rods, rille and sliot-gun and matches, depending for the rest on our liicl^ and skill lo supply our wants of food and shelter. Young was a plucky, faithful little fellow, an admii'able guid(\ and knew ever inch of the river we were to visit; so that, having faith in him, il required but little courage to go fo'rth upon the untried waters, and thi-ough the strange forest. Reaching the foot of the rapids, where the river enters the "set T»ack," we concealed our boat in the woods, a few rods from the landing, and clanilx'icd u}) through thickets, over fallen trees, and up and down hills, with our packs on our backs, three miles to Albany Bridge, — a rude affair built of logs, long ago, on one of the old i-oads through the wilderness. There Young went into the woods, while I, standing upon a rock in the river near the bank, cast over a small pool at the mouth of a lirooklet and speedily cap- tured several ver}^ livel}" little trout. Our supper, at least, was assured almost at the outset. In a few moments, Young emerged from the forest with a boat over his head, the covmterpart of the one we had concealed below. The sun was slowl}' descending, near the end of one of those memorable double-heated daj^s of that summer, as we pushed from shore and paddled up the beautiful river. UP THE OBWEGATCHIE. — SHOT AT A DEER. 245 Here was virgin wilderuess, —no dead trees or flood -wood, and no alders, but the shores eoniing down with solid step to the water's edge; and the hi-oa(l-liml)e(l, vigorous forest stretched its leafy arms high above oui* lieads, out o^er the pure, flowing water. Between enjoyment of the scenery and the shade, and the pleasure of fl3^-casting, with vary- ing success, over the promising pools and eddies and at the mouths of little streams, the full day-light slii)ped uncon- sciously away, and dusk descended like dew upon river and forest. Suddenly, there appeared in the distance, before my dreamy gaze, the faintest tinge of dull red against the green foliage of the river bank. In a whisper I directed my guide's attention to it, and between us we made out the outlines of a deer standing upon a rock and quietly feeding in the river's edge. I was in the bow of the boat, and nw guide sat in the stern plying the paddle. Carefully laying aside my rod. and raising my rifle and bringing it to l)ear upon the beautiful animal, I kept steady aim while we silently drew nearer,— my guide whispering, " Don't shoot until I give you the word!" The deer went on silently feeding as we gradually approached withour l)eing seen,, until we were perhaps not more than ten rods distant from him. I grew impatient for the word, but my guide whispered again, "Wait a minute more— we can get closer! " Suddenly, without raising his head to look at us, the deer leaped with a whirl upon the shore like a lightning flash, and plunged into the woods. As he leaped, my guide shouted "Shoot!" And I shot! I n(!ver yet had 246 CRANBERRY LAKE. — THE OSWEOATCHIE. shot a deer with a rifle, on the full run, — and I didn't then. We listened, and in a moment the deer "whistled" sharply, and by that token I knew I had not broken the letter of the law, and the deer that ran away, lived to be shot at another day. I had enoui2;h vain rci^rels that T didn't " blaze away" on my own judgment of the proper time to tire, although it was not to have ])een anticipated that a deer would depart without the one, customary, "last lingering look," — and, again, if T had missed a fair, still mark like that, my remorse would have been intolerable, and I never could hav(^ U)\d of my loss. As it v.-as, I was comforted by the reflection that 1 missed a flash (tf light into which that deer instantly transformed himself. "So much for Bucking- ham! " For the next half hour or so, we hunted up the river for some stray camp for the night, and found one, — the common, ojien bark-cam j), — where Ave landed at eight o'clock P. M., thoroughly tired and desperately hungry. I had taken more than enough trout for supper, and we were soon rolled up in our blankets, with a roaring tire at our feet, and fast asleep. The next morning, we breakfasted on trout, crackers and tea, (not so very bad a breakfast, either, if you have a woodsman's appetite,) loaded our small luggage into the boat, and continued our w^ay up the river. We came uj^on a party of three or four men in camp, lazily smoking around their smouldering tire after ( I have no doubt) a somewhat heartier breakfast than wc had taken. No iutro- tJP THE RIVER. — STOHTiS ANt) SOUNDS. 247 duetions are needed in the wilderness, and onr chat of a few minutes, as we lay with the bow of our l)oat thrust into the mossy bank, and as we talked trout and dcvv, was a pleasant chanii'e from the conversational duet my i>uide and I had kept up all the wa}' from the home-camp. Mile after mile up the charming Oswegatchie we slowly l)addled, keenly enjo3ing- the scener}- and the delicious languor of the gratified senses, swajing the slender rod over ever}' promising water with expectant delight, and watcliing eags'i'ly the flight and gentle descent of the feath- er}' and barbed deception, but scanning at the same timt? every lui-ii ;iiid winding of the narrowing river for a day- light shol ill a deer. A singular bush or l)rush of dingy reil was seen ahead of us, slowly crossing the stream, which on closer inspection, proved to ])e a red fox, — his long, bushy t;iil HorWiiig airly behind him, while his nose just appetu-ed al)ove the water. Now and then a cliipnuudv or a red s(piirrel silently pa(hlled his way across the river, his keen, black eyes eviersistent little fellow swimming rapidly ahead of us with a large bunch of grass in his mouth, for his winter home. Along the bank, we fre(pu'ntly saw the feeding places of the deer; the soft, bare earth by the water's edge trodden like a farm yard Little success rewarded our mid-chiy tisiiing, but in every thing else tliis gcMitle journeying was most enjoyable. At length, between three and four o'clock P. M.. about eleven miles above Albany Bridge, at the "Big Flood Wood" 248 CKANBERKY LAKE.— TUB OSWEGATCIIIE. where navigation for our tiny craft became ditiicult, and beyond vvliieli were " Tlie Plains," — tliose singular, open, treeless regions, natural pastures for deer, found here and there throughout the wilderness, how caused, nobody knows,— we met two gentlemen and their guide coming down the river, returning from an unsuccessful excursion above. We were about twenty -four miles from Uie home- camp, and deemed it unwise, with our limited time, to proceed further. We turned about, slowl}' fishing (h)wn stream, while our new-found associates puslicd rai)idly on to tlieir proposed camp, where tliey invited us to join them at our leisure. On our way up-stream, my guide had i)ointed out a noted pool, (;al!ed " C'age's 8i)ring Hole," at the outlet of Cage's Lake, or IJladder l\)n(l. I had made a few casts without raising a fin. On oui- return, the sun was a little obscured by clouds and had begun to dip below the tree-tops which cast a mild shadow over the pool. I approached it with the greatest care, resolved that here, if anywhere, I must take my big trout. The main stream, scarcely ten feet wide at that ]»oint, came down like the heav}^ arm of tlie capital letter "Y," the small, rapid inlet being the lighter arm, and the two forming, at their junction, a deep pool nearlj" circular, and from forty to fifty feet in diam- eter. As soon as we had emerged from the green ahlers sulfi- ciently to permit casting, my guide checked the boat and held it with his paddle. I threw my best skill into the effoit, and laid a 1\y on the placid water as gently as a CAaE's SPRTNa-IIOIiE. — MY "BIG TROUT." 249 mother kisses her sleephig- iufaut. Instantly a half-ponnder sprang liercely at the flies. I nervouslj^ struck so hard that, alas! my rod broke. Fish, flies, leader and line went whizzing away. Seizing the slender fragment of my rod in one hand, and manipulating the line with the other, I succeeded in landing the fish. The rod was a ncAV one, liilhcrlo untried, and a, i)(>()r Imtt Jiad succumbed. Untan- gling the snarl, I speedily took and rigged my old rod, tried in man}" a tussle with bass as well as trout, — a rod that once took twelve bass in five casts, — and was ready again. Quietly landing upon the point between the streams, with open ground behind me, again I launched the leader and line out over the water; and as the flies settled down, up leaped the trout, two and three at a time. Nearly every cast for a few exciting moments, — they might have been many or few so far as my observation recorded them — brought to basket one or two fish. Finally, tiring of quar- ter and half-pounders, I put in practice somebody's old precept that " for big fish use large flies." Searching In my fly-book, I found an outrageously large red - and - white - winged, purple - bodied and tinsel-wound bass-fly, and attached it to the end of my leader, and cast. Julius Ctesar! What a rise! I couldn't help it,— I knew well enough .it wasn't "good fishing," — but I struck as if I had been shot, and sent the fly forty feet behind me in a flash. "Gently, gently!" said I to my beating heart and tingling nerves; and then, with trembling expectancy but with all my skill, laid the big fly right amidst the bub- bles left by the mad leap and roll. Again the open jaws 250 CRANBEERY TiAKE. — THE OSWEaATCHlE. and gleaming eyes, the semi-circular leap — and as the trout made an arc on the surface, I struck. 1 had him ! What a magnificent rush! — how the line whizzed and sung through the water! Coming to the surface, he beat the water to a foam, to shake out the stinging hook — as the buss (Iocs for the same purpose — but I led him downward to safer depths. Now he tires. Oli, guide, jjhilosophcr, friend! — Ed. ! my brave boy! handle that landing net with gentle skill! — wait! — don't hurry — he's off again! — there, now, take him care full}" — he can't make another such rush. Yes! there he goes! He has the nine lives of a cat, and the vigor of a mad bull! Careful, now! If you lose him, in you go after him, neck and heels! There, gently, gently! He's safe — he's landed! Yes, there he la}" on the grass, well away from the water's edge, the vermilion and gold of his broad side flash- ing in the sun-light, a beauty in form and color, and large enough to make the heart of his coat-less and hat-less captor kneeling on the grass by his victim, leap up into his mouth. "How large V" Well — how large? — is that what you would know? Well, if it is size you seek for in fishing, catch a codfish or a catfish, and be happy; but a trout, a genuine brook trout, full of game from tooth to tail, need not be so very large to make an honest angler lose his head with joy at the captiu-e. There was, however, no more fishing until this trout was weighed and measured, and lifted and pet- ted, and turned over upon one side and then on the other, and held up to be looked at, and laid down again at full length; and he measured, under tape line, fifteen and three- GLORIOUS SPORT. — LANDED! — "HOW LARGE? " 251 quarters inches in length, nine inches around, and weighed, by good honest scales, one and three-quarters pounds. But tliat which went out of the beautiful form, as it lay gasp- ing on the sod, was the better [)art of him. "Did I stop fishing then? " Such is the heart of man, — 1 did not. The large flies continued to take only the large trout, and when they ceased to allure, the small flies brought out smaller fish.* There was some savage work. One frayed leader with its trailing flies yielded to the tug of a mate to my first large trout. Another ])ig-m()uthed, sharp-toothed fellow cut the snell of a salmon fly, like a knife-blade. Sometimes defective hooking, over confidence, or eagerness cost me what I thought was a two-pounder. But there had been enough good forttine for the day, and gleeful excitement enough in those two hours to last for a year, and to furnish pleasant recollections for a life time. Finally the trout family went to bed, I said good night to the again quiet pool, and we floated on down the river. I reeled in my line, put away my flies and unjointed my «. trusty rod; for there were no more worlds to contpier with that weapon, and if there were, I wanted day -light for the business. CHAPTER XXIX. The Avitching hour of Iwiliulit h;i(l c-oiiie, when tlie timid deer descend the mountains ,:ind emeri;e from the for est to shxka their thirst and feed ujjon the succulent lily- pads and tender grasses growini:: in tlie coves and bays of the river. AV^iile I was sisated in the l)ow of the Itoat, my guide silently paddled in the stern; and we tloated on, winding our way with the tortuous stream, with every sense keenly alive and watchrul for the tirst sign of the l»resence of a deer. Darkness stealthily descended, and the rifle w^as laid aside for the long, double-barreled, mu/,zle- loading, ten-bore shot gun belonging to one of our guides. A gentle tremor of the boat at length arrested my attention, and my guide whispered, "I think there's a deer in the river, down there; do you sec anything?" "No," I responded, after an eager and in-olongcd gaze in the direction indicated. '' U yon a-t'ii (in i/fki /iff, Are at it," said he. IJut to save my life I couldn't see "anything" but dark shades on the obscured water. Suddenly, as we advanced, there was a. splashing and dashing in the river, four or live rods ahead of us, and I saw, apparently, a small, dirty, white hand- kerchief jerked and switched rapidly about from one side of the shalloAV river to the other and l)ack again toward the shore where it first ai)peared, and the tlim Hashing of ' ' THE HANDKERCHIEF. " — " JACKING. " 3.53 water beaten almost to a foam. 'It happened to strike me as exceedingly comical ; but although nearly ready to explode with laughter, I pulled the trigger. An awful roar, as of a park of artillery, burst and rolled down the river and over the forest, shattering the impressive stillness of the night into a thousand echoes. The roar was follow- ed b}'^ a silence almost as awful. When everj'thing was hushed again, we listened. The crashing through the trees told of the tlight of our game, but it might be wound- ed ; then the noise ceased, in a moment the deer .stamped like a sheep and " whistled," and fled away to the moun- tains. Re-loading the gun and lighting and adjusting on my head the " jack" that we had borrowed of our prospective hosts, we again silently went on down the windings of the forest-lined or alder-fringed river as before, peering around ever}' point and into ever}' nook and cove, but seeing noth- ing. Once, we heard a light rustle and delicate footsteps near the river bank, but the thick alders effectually con- cealed the wary deer, — he stopped, we stopped, each listened for the other, and then he stealthily crept away. Still we threw the light along the banks on our silent way, search- ing for the two "glol)es of fire," but saw them not. At length, at nearly fen o'clock, dreadfully tired and hungry, we reached the camp of our new friends, ate a sunii)tu()us supper provided from their ample supplies and my basket of trout, and then rolling up in my l)lanket under the bark-roof, while the hre at my feet blazed brightly, I went to sleep forthwith. 254 CRANBERRY LAKK. — THE 08WEGATCHIE. Yoiiug and Ward, the two guides, however, went out tioatiug for deer. At about 8 A. M. I was awakened 1)}^ a shot, a dull, heavy, booming sound as of distant thunder, followed b}^ another and a third shot. Fifteen minutes later the bo^'s came back Avith a yearling doe in their boat, wtUmded by the tirst shot, missed by the second and effect- ually stopiKHl by the third. They had seen and heard eight deer during the night, but the moon had risen aifd its bright light made it very dillicult to approach them. * On r breakfast was good enough for an epicure, — plenli iul trout, a large frying-pan full of Bermuda onions, scrambled eggs, coffee, Boston crackers, pickles and minor articles. We rendered great and friendlj' service to our hosts, who were that day going out of the woods and made it a cardinal point not to carry out witli them anj' of their supplies; and tlie}^ gave us with their parting blessing something to eke out our much depleted food reserve, which, as the sequel proved, served us a most excellent tuin. The day, July 17, opened with a light south wind which si)eedily grew stronger, a wicked, red light in the eye of the sun. and fcarfull}- oppressive heat. Pioceeding down stream, on reaching All)any Bridge we restored our boat to its original place of concealment, and, packs on our backs, gun and rifle and rods in hand, went down the haid, rough carry to the foot of the rapids, nearly overcome by the heat and thoroughly exhausted. It was two o'clock when we there drew our boat from its hiding place in the bushc^- and started northward down throusrh the flooded timber. AFLOAT TN A OALE. 2.")5 We Ijotli paddled vigorously. The wind, by lliis time blowing almost a gale, drove us on tlirough the long, open reaches of water at a wonderful and exhilarating rate. AVe finally worked our way through tije two or tliree speciall}' dittieult passes in the flooded timl)er and drift- wood and came to the "fi.sh hawk's nest," a point 1)eyond Avhicli tlie river becomes in fact the lake. Looking out upon the dark and angry water, we saw that the waxes were high and rough. 'I'he Avind was'rush- ing with terrific fury down from the long level of Dead Creek, and expending its full force upon the long and broad stretch of water we must inevitably descend and cross on our way to the home camp. The shores Avere marshes and drowned lauds. There was no landing near us where a tempoiary camp could be made. Our provisions were low. The prospect of a night without shelter, probal)ly in our boat, with a fierce rain-storm brewing, was not agreeable. We were very tired. The next day was to be the last in camp. All thes(^ considei-ations made us reallj' anxious to proceed, desjiite the forbidding out look, but we did not intend taking many risks, for we were in no position to redeem a l^lunder, and could hope for no aid from others in case of disaster. We approached Dead Creek Bay at its head, in the lee; ventured a little among the waves; scanned the wild, tunil)ling waters and the mad white-caps; ventured a little further; questioned whether we should try the i)assage down to the next narrow water, hnt continued going as we questioned; until finally, somewhat to our alarm and quite 250) CRANBERRY LAKE. — THE OSWEGATCHlE. to our surprise, we found we were in for it and could do no other way than go ahend. Our small boat would have swamped in an instant if we had attempted to turn back or change our course. The wind followed us squarel3\ and, the further Ave went into the open water, the harder it blew. My guide sat in the stern and I in the bow, each with a paddle, wh le our luggage occupied the middle of the little thirty-eight-pound Rushton boat. Young said, "I think we'll go through safe, — but don't get scared if water comes into the boat, — it takes a good deal of water to drown a boat!" That cer- tainly, in the circumstances, was encouraging. I answ^ered, through the gale, (in a rather heroic vein, I confess) " Tell me the truth, whatever happens, and what to do, and I'll do it; — I never lose my head in emergencies." That w^as about all we said, as the wind howled and drove us along up and dovvn and through the hillocks of increasing and foam-crested waves. Never did boatmen handle the pad- dle with more skill than did Ed. Young, as we tore along through the convulsed and raging waters. There were times when a false stroke would have left us at the mercy of the gale; but the brave, steady-nerved little fellow seemed to have eyes all around his head, and knew the ap- proach of every unusual wave, and how to prevent its burying us as in a deluge. The staunch little craft shook and trembled and quivered, from end to end, under the buf- feting of the cruel waters, but responded to Young's paddle as if it had been a part of his body and his nerves ran all along through its delicate frame. There was no Ciesar DRIVEN ASHORE. — rROSPECTING. 257 aboard, to be suri', but tlie boat, seemed to feel the responsi- bility of tlie occasion (juite as much as did the brave and honest boatman. We aimed for a i;reen, timbered point, half or three-quar- ters of a mile below, as being directly in the only course Ave could go, and the only place (for the dead timber) where a landing seemed possil)le. After what seemed hoin-s — probably not many minutes — we neared it, our eyes anxiously scanned the ragged, tossing and groaning dead drift-timl)er for an opening large enough for our boat to run into in safet}' — and we found just one such, which I had observed and remarked upon, in passing a few days ])efore, as being a possible retuge for some poor fellow in a storm. Into this opening we shot the lioat to the timber pil(jd on the shore, hauled it out on the stranded drift- wood, took out our luggage, placed heavy sticks across the boat to prevent its being blown over upon the sharp prongs of broken limbs— and then, safe at last, and happy to feel solid earth again under our feet, we drew a (lee)> lacatli of relief and looked thankfully out over the wild ;uid marvel ous way we had come. Our first feeling was of hearty satisfaction that we were ashore anywhere. Our next was a desire to know what awaited us, now that we were ashore. Young, taking the axe, said, "Well, I guess I'll go up here and' see what kind of a country we've got into, anyhoAv!" and plunging into the thicket, disappeared. I sat on a rock and rather dubi- ously contemplated the tumbling and desolate waters and the more desolate dead sw^amps and bogs beyond, and the 258 CRANBEERY LAKE. — THE OSWEGATCHIE. dark, storm-laden sky, while the wind howled and the heaving flood-wood groaned as if in mortal pain. Young soon returned and said, "There's hard land close by, with plenty of spruces ; and we might as well move our stutt' up there and fix up, somehow, till this wind goes down, — and may be that's what it will do when the sun goes down or the rain comes. But if it don't, we've got to stay here, — can't tell how long. Anyhow, we shan't starve right off, with plenty of trout and venison in my pack-basket." AVe carried everything up into the woods, to a pleasant sort of forest-ground, a d(;/,en rods, or so, back from the shore. " Guess here's a good place to camp," said Young, look- ing up to see whether any dead trees were likely to fall where we stood. " It's going t(; rain beloie long," he added, "and we might as well have a roof, the first thing." I was completely exhausted, and threw my.self upon the ground, quite regardless of rain or any other ill that might befall us, — empty, having eaten nothing since an early breakfast, tired out by the long carry and the paddling, overcome by the heat, and I suppose I must admit that the peril and the excitement had wrought a little upon my nerves. Young, however, "equal to either fate," proceeded to build an open bark-camp, the growth of which I still had strength enough to watch with interest. He first cut dowm two small trees, made crotches, and thrust them into the ground six feet apart. Upon these he laid a pole, then four poles upon that and the ijround, at the proper angle THE BUILDING OP THE CAMP. — NIGHT. 259 for a roof. Then he cut and peeled bark from large, smooth spruce-trees, — hacking around the tree near the roots, and then again as high up as he could reach, and cutting a line from top to bottom, — then peeling off the bark with a wedge-like stick, in fact, " skinning" the tree in a moment's time. This bark, in long broad sheets, was laid on the roof-poles, rough side out, shingled and lapped, and set up at the sides, with beveled ends tucked under the roof, — the whole making a snug, perfectly rain-proof camp, open in front, and before which a bright, cheerful tire was speedilj' built. Our supper was of crackers oi' hard biscuits, maple sugar, the hottest of tea, and the tenderest and most de- licious broiled venison. Thus refreshed, life became at- tractive again, although darkness was settling upon us and the wind still roared through the tree-tops, and we heard the grinding and groaning of the flood-wood b}" the shore, and a tempestuous night was threatened. Rol)inson Crusoe and his man Fridaj^ (as we very readily imagined (MU'selves) went down to the sliore and watched the waves and coming night, and the white-caps gleaming with the fierceness of the fangs of wild beasts. Night settled Ijlack and boisterous, but we lounged on our bed of Ijouglis in camp before a cheerful blaze, smoked and told stories of other adventures, until, without knowing jll^ ; when or how it happened, \V(! were al)e(l and asleep. In fi^ night. !here was rain which pattered harm- lessly on our ;,ood roof. Half awake, at one time, I heard stealthy steps on the leaves, and fired a rifle-shot as a 260 CRANBERRY LAKE.— THE OSWEGATCHIE. reminder that we did not choose to he distiirhed hy curious intruders. When wholly awake, however, I suspected the noises were made hy the mice or rahhits nmning ahout where we had scattered crumbs from our supper tahle on the ground. Some laughter, more stories, and we were asleep again. The morning opened as calm, and as innocent of evil threat, as a May-day, and the water was like gTass. After a hasty and frugal breakfast, we left " Wind Bound Camp," as we christened our temporarj^ home, loaded our luggage, launched our good, staunch little craft, and speed- i\j paddled our way of seven miles to the home-camp, where we were heartily greeted and congratulated by our party, who had had not a little anxiety on ovu- behalf — and our excursion up the Oswegatchie was ended. Letters and papers in good quantity, by the hands of some incoming party, had arrived in our absence ; we learned that the outer world was conducting itself quite properly without us; and thus reassured, we were full of satisfaction, and prepared to enjoy to the utmost the few remainino- hours of our abode in the wilderness. (li AFTER XXX.- As this wns to ])v our Inst day in the woods, we were all eoiiteiit to do but little hard work. Brand}' Brook, the usual resort when nothinir betler olTered, — still entieinu; to the Captain, the Senator and the Sheriff, heeause of the mj'sterions conduct of its large and cornel}' trout, — was visited hj several of the party and with the usual success. The Mayor and I, with the strong and willing George Saw- yer as our boatman, went up Chair Bock Creek, to see a colonj" of blue herons and their remarkable nests. Of these latter there were thii;teen in the dead, drowned trees, built of sticks and mud, generallj' upon the top of a high stub, like a saucer on the head of a cane. The birds them- selves, of a bluish graj^ color, with their small, slim bodies and long, thin necks and legs, looked like the dead limbs of the nests and the surrounding trees that they sat on, (a fact freel}' offered to Darwin); and they had away of standing up in their nests, like sentinels, and, when shot at, slowly sink- ing down until they were invisil)le. A lucky shot with a " Stevens' Pocket Ritie " — a wondei'ful little weapon with ten-inch barrel, and of twenty two calibre — at a distance of tifteeu or eighteen rods, brought one of these birds from its perch near its nest, a hundred feet from the ground, to the water in which the tree was standing. It came down with a tremendous thump and splash, dead. It measured, from 8 263 CRANBERRY LAKE. — THE OSWEGATCHIE. tip to tip of its wings, tiv^e and a half feet, and, from beak to toes, four and a half feet. It was a vile smelling wretch, and after being duly inspected at camp nobody had the slightest desire to bi'ing it home as a specimen for the taxi- dermist's skill. But the crowning event of the day occurred in the morn- ing. The Junior and the 'Squire, with a guide, took a boat and left camp for the dam. In a few moments we were all startled by a shot and then a yelling as of a dozen savages. We rushed pell-mell down to the landing. "Hurrah! Man over-board! Hurrah! Hurrah!! ]\Ian over-r-r-board! " It was the lust}- voice of the 'Squire. His arms were beat- ing the air like mad. Seizing the small American Hag, wiiicli liad heretofore lluttered in the breeze at the landing, lu! waved that as he shouted, again and again; and the boat was returning to shore. The real hero of the occasion (and the same wasn't the 'S([uir(') sat ((uictly in the stern of the boat, his broad-brimmed, drab hat drawn modestly down, and his hand in the water. As they slowly approach ed, there wei-e many si)eculalions as to the occasion of this great uproar of the 'Sciuire's — a matter, it nnist be ex})lained, of no unusual occurrence, as he exphuled after this fashion on the slightest provocation, especiall}' if there was any fun on hand. The Ijoat, at length, entered the opening througii the Hood wood and approached our primitive dock, and the mystery was solved ; and a pair of buck horns appeared above the surface, firmly grasped by the Junior, — the bod}' of the animal being submerged. JUNIOR SHOOTS A DEER. — BREAKING CAMP. 263 After the general Imrrahing and congratulations were over, it came out that after the boat had proceeded a few rods : rom the landing, the deer was seen leisurely swimming out into the lake. Chase was given. The deer, discover- ing his pursuers, endeavored to return to the shore, but his retreat was cut off by quicklj' rowing the boat between him and land, and then he dashed wildh^ out to sea. The Junior aimed carefully at the head of the animal, and tired with fatal effect. Before the deer could sink, the boat was shot swiftly to his side, the Junior seized the antlers. — and the rest we had seen. We all icjoiccd that it was the good fortune of the Junior, as genial and modest a sportsman as ever drew a bead or cast a lly, to carry off the laurels — :ind the antlers, the latter of which with the beautiful head autl neck now adorn his otlice on street. The next morning, July 19th, after an early breakfast, we broke camp and started for home. A ])ang shot through our heai'ts, as the tents came down aiwl collapsed into cloth, — houses and lumies and sanctuaries of refuge from rain and moscpiitoes, no more, — only bundles of cloth, to be packed and lugged and stowed away, for a whole year, until summer heats again should drive us out of the torrid city into the cool forests and beside the clear waters of the great wilderness. Our camping ground looked deso- late, after our luggage had all been taken to the landing, and as we went back, ostensibly "'to see if we had left anything," but actu-ally to silently and half sadly say good- bye to " Camp Keuben." Our loaded boats moved gaily down the lake to the dam. The inevitable "settling the bills" was accomplislied ; 264 CRANBERRY LAKE. — THE OSWEGATCHIE. Burnliam Avas on hand, by appointment, with a Concord coach drawn l)y four horses, and a large open Avagon ; witliont unnecessary delay, we shook hands all around with the Dodds family, whom we all remember with pleasure and gratitude, and with our guides, most of whom Avere good felloAvs ; shouted and sang our farewells to C'ranberry Lake, Avith a cheer and a "tiger" for the Brandy Brook trout, Avitli " Avays that are dark and tricks that are A'ain " ; and rolled and bumped and thumped aAA'ay, over the corduroy of the lirst mile, and the roots and stones and hills succeeding, toward the outer Avorld. As AA'e approached Cook's Spring-Hole, the Senator, Avho enjoys that sort of thing, for the hundredth time l)egan to quiz the 'Squire about his "big trout." '"Squire," said he, "come noAv ! Tell us just ho aa' you caught your big trout. Do j-^ou mean to insist, uoaa- that we are going out of the AA^oods, and must all begin to get back to tht hal)it of telling the truth, — do you mean to stick to it that you caught that trout with a liook and line ? " " Gentlemen," said the 'Squire — and he had the air of a stump orator e\evy time he opened his jolly mouth — "Gen- tlemen, I have told you a himdred times that I caught that trout in Cook's Spring-Hole, Avitli hook and line — and that is true" — "Yes, yes," chimed in all the rest, "that's Avhat you've told us, thafs true — l)ut honest Indian, noAV, you knoAv." " Well, gentlemen, Ave'll ask Cook himself; — there he is, up by his patch of corn." THE TRUE STORY OF THE "BOSS TROUT." 265 " Yes, we'll ask Cook, but 3^011 shan't bribe him, 'Squire, witli tliat black bottle, — down with it! " "Gentlemen," responded the 'Squire, as he lifted aloft the bottle, "I shall appeal to Cook to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth! — Here, Cook!" — we had driven up to him, and the stage had stopped, — "here. Cook, didn't I catch that boss trout with a hook and lineV — Here, take a drink before 3'ou speak, " — liandinghim the bottle— "you can tell the truth better with the taste of this in your mouth." " Shame, shame! 'S(|uire, to bribe the witness!" cried the Senator; — "Cook, isn't it the honest fact that the "Squire caught tiie trout in a net, and didn't j^ou see him do it? " Cook had taken one good, long drink, and was handing the bottle back to the 'Squire, his e5'es longingly following it. and his lips smacking. •Tell the truth. Cook," said the 'Squire; " didn't 1 take it with hook and lineV — Here, before you answer, take the rest of this! " handing him the bottle again. Cook took it, held it up, and with his eye measiu'ed the contents. " Oh, take it all. Cook," said the 'Squire. Another look,— there was enough s})irit in the bottle to send him into a fence-corner for the rest of the day, — and he .said, •' I gxess old Oilcrll s1laee, all things considered, for Sirring fishing in th(» woods, — a comfortable home with Dodds, al reasonable rates, not being the least consideration. In Basin Brook, within a mile of the dam, in a single pool not over twelve or fifteen feet in tliameter, the IMayor and 1, while floating quietly, Avitli faces near the water, saAv at least half a bushel of trout, some of them from fifteen to eighteen inches long. At Cook's Spring-Hole, about live mih's l)e1ow the dam, tliere is pro1)ably the best tly-lishing in all that region. Tliere are, also, several other excellent spring- holes in that inunediate neighborhood. The rivei- above the lake, after two miles of rapids, is navigable for small boats, without a cai'ry. for fifteen or 268 CRANBERRY LAKE. — THE OSWEGATCIIIE. twenty miles, and lias fine sprin«-holes — "Cage's Si)ring- Hole ■' probabl}' being the best. The Spring fishing, on and above the rapids, is said to be admirable, and the river here is much resorted to by sportsmen from the adjacent towns. Albany I>ridge, thive miles above the head of the river, is the point of entrance lo Mic river above the rapids and tlu' region above the lake, a tolerable road leading fi'oni the rail-road at Governenr to Fine and tften to the Ihidge. The npper Oswegatchie liiver is also a remarkable resort for deer; and I .saw the l)anks of tlie stream, at several lK)ints, trodden like a sheej) 3ard, and many well beaten deer-paths leading to the water. I do not know a section of the wildei'ness wheix" th(> experience o' the guides, Young and Ward, of seeing and hearing eight deer in a single evening's floating, would be likely to be repeated. Undoul)tedly, both the Oswegatchie and Grass rivers, at the [d'oper season, and wlien the wafer is at the right height, atford as line trout-fishing, both as to number and size of tish, as any other part of the nortliern wilderness. l>ut the genuine sportsman, the true lover of forest, lake and river, the tired brain-worker, the seeker for health and recreation, each desires, in his brief forestdife, more than fishing and hunting. The grand and beautiful scener}', the quiet and lonely lakes and sti-eams, the mountain heights and secluded vales, the silvery waters in all their variety, and the endless charm of the ever j^oung and ever old forest, all contribute of their richness abundantly to those who have eyes to see and hearts to enjo3\ CHAPTER XXXI. No serious work, like the present, is complete without at least one didactic chai^ter. The opportune moment and page have arrived, when and where I propose to give some hints and suggestions, which old campers are refjuested to omit as not being needed hy them, but which all neophytes are invited to read. The term "Adirondacks, ' in popular use is applied to that north-eastern portion of the State of New York which is still almost an unbroken wilderness , and being parts of the counties of St. Lawrence, Franklin, Clinton, Essex, War- ren, Hamilton, Herkimer and Lewis. Across this wilder- ness, east and west, the distance is about eighty miles, — north and south, about one hundred miles. It has a wonderful water-s3'stem of lakes and rivers whicli enables the adventurer to exphjre its iimermost recesses; whih: the mountains, in ranges and groups, are grand and majestic. The entire region is skirted by rail-roads distant lioiu its borders about ten to twenty-tive miles, the intervening s])ace gradually shading oil" into primitive forest. These rail-roads are, on the south, the N. Y. C. and II. H. K. K. from Schenectady to Utica; on the west, the Utica and Black River R. R. to Carthage and Philadelphia, and the Rome, Watertown and Ogdensburg R. R. from Phihidel- phia to Potsdam Junction; on the north, the Vermont 270 CRANBERRY LAKE. — THE OSWEGATCHIE. Central R. R. from Potsdam .Tunctiou to Mooer's and on to Rouse's Point; on the east, the Delaware and Hudson Canal Co. R. R. lines from Mooer's southerly to Plattsburg and on to Whitehall, and through Saratoga to Schenectady. From Saratoga the Adirondack R. R. runs north-westerly tifty one miles to North Creek, aproaching the forest directly on the route to Blue Mountain Lake. There ar(; twenty or thirty i-easonably good entrances to the wilderness from these rail-roads, and the iirincipal ones — following the same order — are as follows: From the N.Y.C.R. R. at Amsterdam, Fonda. Little Falls and Herkimer, to Lake Pleasant, Round Ijake and Piseco Lake — the route from Fonda by rail-road to Gloversville and thence by stage to Sagevilie being the easiest and best. Entering from the Black River R. R. and connecting roads on the west, stop at Remsen for Piseco Lake region, and Jock's Lake; at Alder Creek, for W(M)dhull and Bisby Lakes; at Booneville, t'ov Moose Rivei' waters, Fulton Chain, etc.. and through by Raquette Lake; at Lowville, for BeaA^er Rivx'r wateis, Fenton's'or "No. 4," Beaver Lake, Albany Lake, Saiith's Lake, and through by Tupper Lakes; at Govei'neur, for the upper Oswegatchie River, above Cranberry Lake, and Cranberr}- Lake; at DcKalb Junction, for the lower Oswegatchie Rivx-r (below Cranberry Lake) and Cranberry Lake, the usual route to the Lake; at Potsdam, for Raquette River :uid the lakes tlowing into it. Entering from the Vermont Central R. R., on the north, stop at Malone for Meacham Lake, " Paul Smith's " on St. Regis Lake, the Saranac Lakes and through the w ilderness n. E. LINES AROUND THE ADIRONDACKS. 2<'l in every direction, — ti most popular and niucli traA'clcd route ; at Chateaugay, for the Cliateaiigay Lakes. From the Delaware and Hudson Canal Co. R. M. lines on the East, cuter at Plattsburg b}' Railroad to Point of Rocks, thence by stage to "Paul Smith's" on St Regis Lake, or Martin's on Lower Saranac Lake, and on at pleasure to any jiart of tiie wilderness; at Port Kent, (Lake or Railroad,) by stage to Keeseville, Point of Rocks, and then as last above; at Westport, for Elizabethtown, Keene. Keene's Flats, through the Adirondack Mountains proper, to North Elba, and on to Saranac Lake. At Saratoga, take Adirondack Railroad for Schroon Lake, or to its terminus at North Creek for Blue Mountain Lake, Raquette Lake and on through to any point in the Eastern and Northern wilderness, or from North Creek north to Adirondack Iron Works, Lower and Upper. With the aid of an ordinary map of the wilderness, the fore- going information will enable the tourist to form the plan of almost any tour he may desire to make in that region. The sportsman will need to consult works designed to point out more specitically the best resorts for hunting and fishing. However, the guides in any of these localities can give complete information, and the hotel keepers, at nearly all these points of entrance, may be relied upon to post the inquiring sportsman. "Wallace's Guide to the Adiron- dacks," is exceedingly valuable in this connection. Where to go and Jio/r to go into the Adirondacks, depends principally upon whether you go as a foar/'xf or as a .^ports- 7W«?i,— whether you wish to journey, or to camp. If you 273 CIIANBETIRY LAKE. — THE OSWEGATCIIlR, go as a tourist, you should select some of the easier routes, and those upon whicli regular convej'ances run, — as, by way of the Adirondack Raih'oad and stage to Blue Mt. Lake, or ])y rail-road to Point of Kocks and stage to Paul Smith's. IfoAvever, convej'ances for parties of three or four or more can be pro(;ure(l at I'easonable rates at an}^ of the points of entrance already mentioned. Again, as a tourist you may take yovn* i'amily with 3'ou. There are, on the principal routes through the wilderness, comfortable although generally' unpretentious "hotels," less than a hard day's journej^ apart, so that an entire fam- ily, including ladies and children, may travel for a hun- dred miles and sleep under a roof every night. For such a journey, 'gentlemen may wear their ordinary clothing, being careful, however, to provide boots or shoes suitable for occasional mudd}' walking over " carries," a hat that will endure a smart rain, and a light rubber over- coat. Ladies need good walking shoes, dresses that do not trail, and rubber wraps. A good umbrella is serviceable against sun and rain. Woolen clothing is best. On the water, sit still in the hoat, heed the suggestions of j'our boat- man, and 3"0u are as safe as in a rail-road car. Leave all heav}' baggage at the point of entrance, or have it for- warded to the point where you are again to resume rail-road travel. As a sportsman, seeking the wilderness for the fishing and hunting, the requirements are ver}' different. First, to find fish or garne, you must go to solitary and secluded lakes and streams, away from the much-traveled routes ; • GEKERAL SUGGESTIONS. 273 and you must camp, and be accompanied by guides ; and sufficient provisions must be taken to supply your wants for tlie numl)er composing your party and for tlic time you propose to remain in camp. For clotliing, wear no linen ; take your last cast oil woolen suit, a woolen shirt with collar of same material on it. a soft hat, strong (but not very heavy) boots or shoes, a woolen blanket and rubber overcoat. Wear woolen or merino socks. Carrj' a few needles, some strong thread, and buttons of various sizes. A strip of adhesive plaster, a small bottle of brandy, and a piece of Turkish rhubarb, (decidedly necessary with most persons the first few daj^s in the woods,) are all that are ordinarily necessary in the medicine-chest. For sporting, one flj'-rod, one bait-rod, with extra tips for each, lines, reels, hooks, leaders, and a small assort- ment of flies of mediun, size, are an outfit for fishing; and for shooting, take a double-barrelled shot-gun for night- shooting or a rifle for day-shooting. Better than either, and combining both, is Baker's three-barrelled gun — two shot and one rifle — the true arm for the Adirondack sportsman. For camping, the guides will easily build or find an open bark-camp before which a blazing fire burns nightly. A tent is warmer, cleaner, and permits you to move from place to place more freely. An "A " tent of cotton cloth, water-proofed, 7x8 feet on the ground, weighs about ten pounds and is good for three. Through the top, sew a rope extending 15 feet each way, use crotches outside of the tent and pegs to tie to, and you can dispense with the 274 CRANBERRY LAKE. — THE OSWEGATCIIIE. annoyance and burden of tent-poles. A camp stove is a great comfort and convenience l)ut not indispensable. Duncklee's is tbe best in market. A better one is built to fold up much like an envelope, made at cost of less than $5, and weighing less than ten pounds, but there is none such in market. My own, of this kind, is a complete success. To acompany this, get a large, strong tin-pail, with cover, and put inside a smaller tin-pail with cover. Inside of this, put coffee-pot,tin-plates,cu))s, knives, forks,si)oons,a frying- pan with detachable handle, and dish-cloths. The coffee- pot must have a bale, and the frying-pan should be of good size, if you have no stove. However, most of the guides furnish cookiug utensils. Ask some old camper to make a list of "supplies " for you, if jou do not already know what j^ou want. If you seek the Spring lishing, go in May, as soon as the snow is out of the woods, and lish on rapids and in swift water. Fish with bait, generally, at that season. If you care more for the delights of camping, and want to enjo3" forest life, and also want fly-fishing, go in July or August. July, on the whole, is the most delightful, and the safest month for settled weather. At this season, look for trout in the "spring-holes," — it is a waste of time to seek them in the rapids or deep water, or in the body of a stream. Look for them at a spring or pool of cold water! Find where a small cold stream enters a lake or river. Whenever you find clear wW water you ought to find trout. Earl}^ in the season, tlie dreaded black fly abounds, but he departs by the middle of July. The mosquito and midge SUGGESTIONS. 27o or "pnnky" come before July, iiucl stay. None of these, however, are a serious incouveiiience if "tar-oil," camphor and lard, or some oilier of the well known mixtures for Avarding- off insects are persistently used. Insects rarely accompan}' their victims out upon open water. A breezy camp, also, is pretty free from them. ]\Iosi|uito-nettini;- at night is worth all the trouble it costs to arrange it. In camp, hemlock or balsam boughs, and plenty of them, make the best bed. Each person should have a blanket to himself, and roll up in it. Wear a soft hat. cap, or other protection on the head. Take a small flour sack and till it with hemlock twigs or grass and put a coat (ner it for a pillow. Have plenty of jokes, but no •• fooling "" with the a.xe, the boat, or with each other, in camp or on the water. Bodily injuries or a dead man in the Avoods, with long '" carries" on the way out to civilization, are great niconveniences. Few people l)ecome sick in the woods, and, with caic, acci dents of a serious nature are not likely to occur. Of all things, avoid going off into the woods alone, away from the water or the trail. Nothingis easier than to 'gel lost," — nothing much harder than to "get found" again. Guides usually charge $2.50 or $3.00 each pei- day, including boat. Hotels usually charge 50 cents each for meals and lodging, or from $7, to .|iO per week for l)oard, with use of boats. In camp, the food of each man costs not to exceed 25 cents per day. One gnide and bo;\t for two si)ortsmen is comfortable,— a guide and boat for each sportsman is a luxury worth payhig for if you can aiford it. 276 CRANBERRY LAKE. — THE OSWEGATCHIE. One guide and two boats for a party of four who are will- ing to work, and with a fixed camp, will give all the sub- stantial benefits of a sojourn in the woods. Finally, don't fisli all the while, — enjoy the woods, the waters, the camp-fire, ererything including the hardships, and bring away all the bright, clear-cut memories you can of a region unsurpassed for its glorious combination of rare sport, beauty and grandeur. j]!RAYLI]Mq 'pi3HiiMq IN NORTHERN MICHIGAN. CHAPTER XXXII. In the summer of 1879, on my wa}^ home from a western business trip, I was a1)le, under the most pleasant auspices, to gratify a long cherished desire to visit the haunts of the Grayling in the Northern Wilderness of Michigan. The result of various letters and telegrams was, that on a Mon- day morning, July 21st., an excellent friend of mine, of Detroit, and I, found ourselves together in that goodly city, planning the details of our week's vacation. Law, politics and public duties had so engrossed my friend's time and atfections that he lacked one thing sadl3^ — he knew absolutely nothing about fishing. But he had the true disciple's spirit, and, with becoming humility, besought me to "rig him out " for the woods and the riv- ers. A serviceable fly-rod, from Mr. Long's stock, and the necessary accompaniments from my own abundant supply furnished him in good style as a fisherman. We telegraphed M. S. Hartwick. hotel proprietor at Grayling, Crawford Count}^ on the head waters of the Au Sable, — "Provide men and boats for two, Tuesday, noon train." That evening, we proceeded by rail to Baj^ City, and on the following morning resumed our journey to Grayliug, thirty-five miles further north. From Bay City we passed through a flat, wooded, and exceedingly 280 ORAYLING. — KORTIIERN MICHIGAN. iiuinterestiug country. Occasionally, however, from the car window, we saw some ver}' prett}' little emei-ald lakes, which had a half-wild, half-mild beauty that contrasted strangely with the surroundings. Tlu! rail-road i)ushes up northwai'd, past station after station, where once were a steam saw-mill, a collection of rude cabins, a "hotel " and a " store," and wdiere now the mill is ii'oing to>decay or is burned down, the cabins deserted, and the whole town con- sists of a forlorn family or two. The valuable pine of the neighborhood has all been cut, sawed and marketed, and the town experiences "reversion." The railroad presses on to new fields, and the histoiy of the lower lumber regions repeats itself. At some points, however, the soil shows itself susceptible to cultivation, and a sparse farm- ing commuity springs up. So much we saw on our w^ay to tlie village of Grajdiug. We saw much that was better and more promising, in the northern part of the Peninsula. Hartwick, our host, had complied with our request, and engaged for us the services of two good men. One of them, William D. Jones, is a famous fisherman, hunter and trapper, who know^s all about Northern Michigan, its rivers, lakes, fish and game. Within three years he had trapped forty-two bears, shot man^^ deer, and fished for grayling in the Au Sable, Manistee, Chebo3'gan and Pigeon rivers. The other, Charlie Robinson, served us well, and "poled" to our entire satisfaction. B3* the middle of the afternoon we had procured our sup- plies, blankets, etc., and then we took to the river, close to town, — the Au Sable, famous in the recent historj' of gi'ay- DOWN THE AU SABLE. — BOATS. — POLERS. 281 ling fishing in this countiy as, perhaps, the finest grayling stream in Michigan. At this point it is not more than twenty feet wide and has an average depth of about one foot, with holes and shallows interspersed, and with crooks, snags and rapids that necessitate a peculiar boat and method of propulsion. We had two boats, flat-bottomed, with sides jiearly per- pendicular, pointed at each end, and having a "fish- well" or water-tight compartment, about one-third the length of the l)c;it back from the bow. The water-tightness was relieved, and the box made available for keeping fish alive in it, by pulling half a dozen plugs from auger holes in the enclosed bottom of the boat. The cover of the box made a comfortable seat for the fisherman sitting face bow-wards, while a round, old-fashioned "cat-hole" in the seat, on either side, invited him to plump in his fish as fast as taken, — they being supplied with fresh water from the river, through the auger holes, in a degree of abundance corres- ponding with the avoirdupois of the man above their prison. Fat anglers are the grayling's favorites ; — fatness means water, and water means life. The boatman, or '"poler," as he is locally known, sits or stands — as the ease or dilficulty ,of his work i)ermits or requires — in the stern of the boat, in a contracted space tliat suggests an easy loss of equilibrium and a conse(iuent ilucking. Ai-med with a slender but tough-fil)red pole, which is about ten feet long and pointed at both ends with iron, he forces the boat rapidly along the shallow s'trcam, aroinid the sharp curves, among the snags and tlirougli \hv 282 GEAYLING. — ^OinilKKN MKllIGAX. rapids, — or checks it in llic sAviitcsl current, to afford a cast over a promising bit of water, — Avith consunmiate skill. Tt looks simple enough, l)ut a tiial of this easy thing, by a ■ new hand, demonstrates that there is science even in poling a flat-boat in swift water, down sti'eam. It (juite often demonstrates how cold the waters of the Au Sable are. { I shall not say what befell my friend, who was of an investigating and expei'imenting turn of mind — and who weighs well nigli two hundred i)ounds.) In the occasional stretches of deep and quiet water — the " Still- Avater " — the iron-shod pole is laid aside (then look out for your rod and flies if lying by your side!) and the paildle comes in play. The Au Sable "runs down hill" Avith a gliding, sliding motion at the late of four miles an hour. Poling up stream with empty boats is possible but not feasible, — >vitli a load, well nigh impossible; and Ashing parties arrange "lobe called foi' " at a designated i>oint down the river, on an ap- pointed day, and to be draAvn out, boats, bag and baggage, on a lumljer Avagon, to the rail-road station. After the river leaves GraA'ling, it gradually increases in Avidth to fifty feet or more, Avitli a variable depth from six inches in the broad rapids to tAvo or three feet, — its average and natural depth being, in July, about eighteen inches. I only speak of it as I saAv it for about nineteen miles. Below, it becomes a broad, strong river. The "sAveep- ers," or fallen trees across the stream, have been cut out of the Au iSable, for a long distance, depriving its passage of much of its pristine excitement and adven- MY FIEST GRAYLING. 283 tnre. We saw enough to enable us to comprehend the sit- uation of a boat swiftly descending the rapids around a point and coniing suddenly upon a prostrate mammoth cedar, all bristling \vitli sliarp, dead limbs — right across the water highway, at just the most inconvenient height al)Ove the stream. The old college problem — wliat would be the result if an irresistible force should strike an immovable object? — hardly suggests a more disagreeable predicament. On eitlicr side of the river a belt of lieavy timber grows, partially because; fed i)y the moisture of tlie stream, perco- lating through the soil, and partly because the ground is "bottom lands." The higher ground, rising back from the river, so far as I saw, is mainly sandy soil and partiall)'' covered l)y a scanty growth of stunted jack-jiine. A de- pression in the surface, gathering and confining the rain- fall, produces a heavy gi-owlh of timber. Down the wood-fringed, embowered aisle of the Au Sable we were at length swiftly gliding, under the tutelary care and vigorous poling of our tw'o boatmen. For six or seven miles there was no tisliing, and we had ample time and opportunity to observe the beauties of the charming river, winding gracefully and lapidly down its course; its cold, clear waters revealing the sandy bottom; the air pure, fresh and invigorating. At length, the word was given, — " there are grayling here! " T made my first cast. In a flash, with a leap out of water, a fish seized the fly before it touched the surface, and was fairly hooked, with scarcely an effort of mine. I hastily drew him in— he weighed only four ounces— and, 284 GRAYIJX(4. — KOKTHERN MrCTITGAN. for the lirst time, beheld the marvelous colors of the large dorsal tin and the pectoral tins, the silvery sides, tlie olive l)rown hack, the " V " shaped black specks, (where the trout has the crimson spots,) and the graceful, taper form of the uTaylinu-. If I had not taken another lish, I should have felt repaid for my journey. Pages of description had not given me the whole agreeable truth about this beauti- ful lish, that was revealed to me in the two minutes' examination I gave to this "specimen number," before I plumped him into the well. Casting again. I struck a tine fellow that showed great vigor and activity for two or three minutes, and despite Charlie's urgent appeals to "land him." 1 gave him full play and studied liis form, colors and spirited inovcments in tiie clear water, as he passed n\) and down, within twenty leet of the V)oat. The magniliceut dorsal tin, erect like a warrior's plume, waved like a battle standard, and glowed like a rainbow, and his shining sides flashed in the sun^light like silver. It. Avas, indeed, a beautiful sight, and I enjoj'ed it to the full before he finally succumbed and lay panting on the surface. ^Vhen I tinall}^ drew him in, he weighed ten ounces, measured thirteen and one-half inches in length and six and one half around,— a slender fish, as these measurments show, but typical of all the grayling I saw. In some rivers, I was told, they are thicker than this, but everywhere more slender than trout. The evening was now • approaching ; and, after taking another pair of grajding, we hastened on to West's Land- ing, where we camped for the night. The guides made a THfi SECOND DAY. — MOKE (4RAYLtNG. 285 tent of blankets, a fine bed of balsam boughs, and con- cocted a good supper of the fish we had taken, flanked bj^ many things from our hotel. I tried to believe that the grayling is as good to eat as the trout, ])ut yielded only a modified assent. After breakfast, the next morning, while oin* men Avere doing the house-work of our tabernacle on the Au Sal)le, my friend and 1 walked back from the river, half a mile through a wooded Ijelt along the river ])ottom, to the ele- vated plateau where the scraggi}' jack-pines prevailed, scattered and small, and to a farm which Mr. West had initiated on the poor, sand}" soil. On our way back to camp, we surprised a large and very fat hedge-hog that waddled off into the underbrush, his slow movements, as he shambled along, being notably accelerated by several innocent and harmless sticks cast ineffectually- after him. Putting everything aboard our boats, and interchanging boatmen, (by which arrangement Jones fell to me,) we proceeded down the river, fishing as we went. The early day was delightful, not too warm although bright and clear, but afterward becoming cloudy. Later, the clouds became heavy and dark, an east wind blew smartly up-stream, and at length some rain fell, but not enough to drive us to shelter. AVe fished for five miles down the river to the 'Ha}' Road," where we dined on shore. During the morning I had taken twenty-one grayling, throwing back two of that number because small,— all kept alive in the well. In the afternoon, I fished one and a half miles further down stream, and back again to the Hay Road, until five 286 GRAYLING. — NORTHERN MICHIGAN. o'clock P. M., capturing twelve grayling, — mj' entire catch for thechw being tliirty-three, and for the day and the even- ing before, thirty-seven. Of these, three weighed ten ounces each, and measured as I have described my second fish, (^uite a number weiglied half a pound, or a trifle more. The}^ were a glorious sight in the well, when I landed and gazed at them to my heart's content, before permitting the men to despoil their fair forms. My prettiest si)ort was had at a deep, narrow and swift passage in the river, up which we were forcing our way by clinging to the branches and working as best we could. Jones held the boat right in the edge of this swift water, while I cast up-stream, taking fairl}^ large fish frequentlj . One ten-ounce fish, struck in the water above me, rushed swiftly down stream, forty or fifty feet below the boat, before I could check him. At the instant, when I brought him to bay. he sprang fully three feet out of water, — as magnificent a leap as I ever saw, — flapping his tail with a noise that I distinctly heard above the rush of the rapids, as if applauding himself for his gallant exploit. "Gracious! " said I. " Gosh all Christopher!" said Jones. I wouldn't have missed landing that fish, after such a display of his beauty and strength, and after the brave bat- tle he made for the next five minutes, for the best bamboo ever won at a fl3"-casting tournament by either of those veterans of the angle, Reub. Wood or Seth Green. The team met us at the'Hay Road, at six o'clock P. M., and we tediously drove fifteen miles through the jack-pines, the heavj' timber, and finall}^ overa corduroj^ road through a swamp, back, late in the evening, to Grayling and our hotel. CHAPTER XXXIII. "What I know" about grayling and grayling streams (in addition to diligent reading on the subject) consists only of what I saw during these two days, and of what I learned by persistently interviewing our boatmen, other fishermen wherever 1 found them during our trip, and from the " local authorities " on fishing. But such infor- mation as I picked up, 1 I>elieve to be accurate and reliable, and worth repeating for the benefit of the lovers of good sport. Sifting it, I give the results, as follows: I. — Grayling Streams in Northern MiCHiCiAN. The An Sable, running eastward to Lake Huron. This, perhaps, is the most widely known of the ^[ichigan gray- ling streams, and as a conseciuence, has been over-tisiied. From a point six miles below Grayling to Big Flood Wood in Iosco County, there is, with exceptions, grayling fish- ing:— orduitwy, down to South Branch; fxlr (did better, be- tween South Branch and North Branch (except in still- water for three miles ])elow South Branch); e.rcelU nt, in Big Creek which comes in from the south, about five miles be- low North Branch, and 1)eing, by the windings of the river, about fifty miles from Grayling. There is very little still- water in the Au Sable, that of tliree miles between South 288 GRAYLTNCx. — NORTHERN MICHIGAN. Branch and North Branch, and another stretch of six miles from a point two miles below North Branch to Ball's Bridge, near Big Creek, being su]>stantially all, in the fifty miles. I learned very little of the river beyond Big Creek — that being the most distant point ordinarily visited. MxiHsfee. Tiic up[>er waters of the Manistee, where the grayling of that stream are now chietly tV)und, are easily reached by a .good road from Grayling, of eight miles. The tishing extends with decreasing excellence, down lo Ihc rail-road, near Walton. The ^Manistee emiities into Lake Michigan. Cheboygan. This river runs northward. Its upper waters are reached from Gaylord (a rail road town, twenty- eight miles north of Grayling) hy a drive of from ten to twenty-live miles. It has not been much fished, and its grayling are reported to be larger and more abundant than in any other stream in ^Michigan. Pigeon Rlrer, another nortliern stream, is highl_y spoken of. but I obtained no definite information aliout it. For a trip, linuted in time and easy to make, the Au Sable ;iiid Manistee rivers oft'er the best inducements to the fisher- man; l)ut, doubtless, there is finer sport as well as harder work on the Cliebo3'gan. All these streams were originally extremely ditficult of passage, on account of the "sweep- ers " and snags. Since the grayling has come to favorable notice some of the rivers have been" cut out " and rendered easy of descent, notabl}' the Au Sable and the Manistee. The Joi'dan has ceased to be a grayling stream, — the popular GRAYLING AND GRAYLTNG STREAMS. 289 verdict being- that the trout have driven out their less bellig- erent cousins. IT. — Habits OF Grayijng — Size — Flies to Use, Etc. Grayling, in a general way, have the hnbits of trout in similar streams. Tluy^ are found in rapids, in deep seooped- out holes witii sand}' bottom, l)()th in the channel nnd in the margin of the streams; seek shaded places and s|)ring- lioles; and lurk under and near old logs, if the water is rapid, and under over-hanging trees. (I took eight, besides pricking two or three more, in a fcAV minutes, in a hole under an over-hanging cedar.) If the water is rapid just above a hole with sandy bottom, and a tree projects over it, grajding are almost certain to be there. Dee}) and rapid water in the ndddle of the stream is also a favorite resort. They are not to be found in still-water, at an}- time of the 3'ear, excejtt that they seek their spawning beds, in the Spring, in the sandy bottoms of quiet water just below and as near as i)ossible to rapids. As the water grows warmer, they go ujion the swift-water and stay there daring the remainder of the warm. season. They never go u]) very small streams,— being in this respect wdiolly unlike trout. Grayling "travel" but little.— seeking their homes for the Summer and remaining there. If frightened out of them, the}' speedily return when the dangei- is past. A hole once fished out is fished out for the Siunmer. They are very peaceable, bodi among themselves and with other fish, and do not drive each other out of favorite places. As to size, I heard of grayling being caught in Cheboy- 290 CRAY LINO. — NORTIIEEN MICHIGAN. gun river, weighing two pounds. In the Au Sable, the hirgest caught in 1879, up to tlie date we were there, wa.'^ eigiiteen inclies long and weighing one pound and eight ounces. A pound grayling, measuring fifteen inches, was taken by a party which we met at the hotel. One of sexcnteen inches in length weighed one pound and seven ounces. 1'lie average weight of 950 fi.sli taken by the party was one-third of a pound each. 1 am iii(lel>ted to Mv. JelTerson Wiley, of Detroit, INIich. for a copy of the tisliing record (which I give l)elow)ma(l( In the company referred to, as well as for much other valualile information about grayling and their cai)ture. KECOED, SIX days' GRAYLING FISHING. 1879, July U 17 18 19 20 21 6 days Hev. Dr. Hexford .. Mrs. Hex ford Mr. Tomlinson Mr iS'ewcoml) lAIr Wih'v 13 0 20 ,11 25 14 42 ;>s 30 5(; 9 47 31 43 44 27 30 29 93 22 TS 47 35. 32 23 () ;t2 43 35 182 75 218 187 288 Totals 104 149 186 223 149 139 950 ]Mr. Wiley w^as the only expert tTsherman of the numl)ei', and they all fished with moderation. Grayling take the My with great eagerness when feeding, but, like trout, .sometimes " play " al)Out the lure in frolic- some leaps. When in earnest, tlie}^ rush and lea]) Avith all the vigor and (piickness of the trout, seize the lly almost unerringly and firmly, hooking themselves. They respond to the first cast or two; and, if they miss, jump two or three times, even when near the boat, before abandoning ORAYLINfi. 291 the pursuit. They take the fly almost equally Avell above the water, on the surface, or beucatliit; but my own obser- vation led nie to think the last is their favorite method. When hooked, they make a vigorous rush, and seek to run under logs and brush. If the water is cold and the tisli in best condition, it leaps two or three limes like a bass, lifs/iirtf/ /fs sides wiih its tail. The tish of the ]\Ianist<'e. which is a very cold stream, almost invarial)ly leap out of water wlien struck, wliile those in the An Sable, not so cold, generally do not. The appearance of the grayling in the water, when hooked and excited and struggling, is something beautifvd to see, — the large dorsal tin being the most conspicuous and noticeable feature. The colors of both the dorsal and pec- toral tins are rich and deli* ale beyond descri])tion, — the violet, pearl)" and golden tints and rainbow hues, marvel- ously contrasted ^uld blended. The back is dark olive- l)rown; the sides and belly, silvery; the Ixxly, slim and graceful ; the head small, mouth of medium size and ten- der: tail, forked and broad ; and the adipose tin shows his ro3'al lineage. The grayling is a spirited tighter, for a few miiuites, but he does not seem to me to have the "bottom " of the trout, nor to display ([uitc the trout's savagery. When taken fresh from the water and cooked, the meat of the grayling is firm and the flavor delici(His; but I nuist still think the trout bears oiT the palm for excellence. Flies for grayling Ashing should be of medium size — between a large and very small trout-fly. Large flies 292 GRAYLING. — NORTHERN MICHIGAN. "scare the tish." Brown-haekle is called the l)est, — the iii-iz/Jj'-kiiig, good. Tlie local tishermen say, "Avoid hriuht ml in your liies;" but Mr. Wiley had tine success with the red lly. A good trout-cast of small Hies is well adapted to grayling fishing. Change llie cast only foi- dark and light days (bright files lor dark days); make no change for seasons. Handling the rod in this fishing differs in 'no resju'ct from casting for Irout, except that it is sometimes well to let the files sink two or three inches in the water, and there is less necessity for the aiert "strike;"' while it nuist b( remembered that the grayling has a tender nidulli. lie is a sim])le, unsophisticated fish, not wily, but sh\ and timorous. He is a " free biter," and is bound to di- iippear before the nuiltidude of rods waved ovei- his devoted head. The sport he aflords in his capture, the taste he gi'alities in the frying-pan, and the ailurenienls of Ihc charming streams he inhabits, all conspire with his sim l>licity to destroy him. Could he but learn wisdom from his ci-imson-spotted cousin, and would tlie sportsman liaxc pity on this beautiful and gentle ci-eature of the smoothl\^ gliding rivers, he would long live to wave tlu; banner of beauty and glory in the cold, clear streams of the North. But that cannot be. CHAPTER XXXIV. We took the noon train, noitlnvard, to Gaylord. the northern terminus of the Juekson, Saginaw and I.ausinL!, R. R. There i>rociiring- ;i team, we were conveyed din-etly across the wilderness, twelv^e miles Avestward, to Elmira. through a heavy forest of beach, maple and hemlock. AVc saw many incipient pleasant homes and future rich farms on the Avay, chopped and hewn out in the heart of the wilderness. Elmira is a town consisting of a single liouse in the woods, on the Grand Rapids and Indiana li. R. AVe , flagged up a train and took passage to Petoskey, on Little Traverse Bay. This is a wonderfully bright little town, five or six j^ears old, " beautiful for situation." whence one may gaze out over the blue waters of the charming Ba}', and upon the distant and broader waters of Lake Michigan beyond, — and dream of peace without heal, dust, or dis (!omfort of any sort but a crowded hotel. " Bay View," a mile north, is a famous camping ground oi the Methodist Episcopal Church of the West, and is I lie favorite summer resort of thousands of people of all denominations. Taking an early morning train, we retraced oui- way to Boyne Falls, proceeding thence through the woods si.\ miles l)y stage over a good road to Boyne, a hamlet at the head of the TNortli Arm' of Pine Lake. Tlie Boyne river, 294 GRAYLING. — NORTHERN MICHIGAN. one of the celebrated trout streams of Northern 3Iichigan, enters the lake here. It is not over tAventy or thirty feet wide, but is "cutout" for six miles, affording extended fishing grounds notwithstanding its proportions. The trout of this stream are said to be larger than in the Jordan, which enters the South Arm of the same lake. They have, however, a partiality for Ijait, and there is little or no suc- cess with the fly. Wf wanted to trj^ these waters, but could not devote to it the rainy morning which befell us. A. J. Hall, a genuine woodsman, intelligent, active and good-hearted, keeps a small hotel at Boyne, and attends to the wants of fishermen. We afterwards luid six'cial occa- sion to remember him kindly. Taking passage on a little stcMincr llial plies 1 he waters of Pine Lake, we enjoyed a two hours" ride to the ijuaint old town of (yharlevoix, that stands pei'clicd on the high bank of the short river emptying Pine Lake into Lake Michigan. After dinner we engaged a l)oatm;ui, — a bright- looking young fellow, who haughtily bore tiie distinction of being the favorite "poler" of A. B. Turner, of Grand Rapids, the most celebrated angler of Michi.i4an. A¥e felt sure he was the best man for us in all that country, — but we were as verdant and anserine in our judgment af5 the "poler" was lazy, mendacious,and generall}' worthless. The truth was, as we learned later, that he frequently needed a good ducking — which Turner, on occasion, was entirely willing and able to give him. 1 am happy io add that he does not live in Charlevoix. 1 have respect for that bit of antiquity. UP THE .lORD AN.— Webster's — jefp. 295 With boat and man on board, we steamed away, Avith charming sceneiy near ns on either shore, to the head of South Arm, and were soon rowing up the Jordan against a strong curieut, toward the promised land. The river, after a brief progress up-stream, became too rapid for tlie use of oars, and the iron-pointed pole was brought into requisition. The stream strongl3M-esembles the An Sable, — the clear,andcold water, tlie swift-gliding current, the hea\\v- wooded banks and over-hanging trees, all seeming to have 1)een mysteriously transported from the river in the east to the westward flowing stream. Our advance was slow and difficult, and it was nightfall when we gladly disembarked, live miles up the river, and walked half a mile inland to the rustic forest-home of John I>. Webster. There we were comfortably entertained for the night, and also foiuid a pleasant party of fishermen from Akron, Ohio, with whom we forthwith fraternized. The following nidrning we entered with si)irit upon the trout fishing of the singh' (lay which we had allowed our- selves on the .Jordan, (xoing uj) the river a mile and a half, our i)oler declai'ed we were at the head of the good fishing, and pointed the boat down stream and held it fast. That was the proper moment for Jeff's ducking! The truth was not" in him, — the best fishing was above us; but so was the hard poling. Our ignorance, however, was bli.ssful as yet, and it is pleasant to renienilxT that for a brief season we enjoj^ed the delusif)n. The day was (jxceedingly bright and warm. The trout that could not have seen our every motion, for double the 290 GTIAYTJNO. — KOP.TirEl^K MTCHIGAN. length of a cast, would not have been worth tlie taking. The stream had been dtiily whipped and threshed, from its mouth to the still blockaded region above, from the open- ing day of Spring- fishing until this 25th of July, by throng- ing fishermen from all parts of the countr\\ The trout left in that ^vat.er3' highway were as well educated in all the "arts and wiles" as the gamins dodging about among tjie legs of men and horse's feet in the crowded city street. I rigged ni}^ fly-rod with special care, adjusting a most killing cast of flies. "You can't catch anything with the fly, now," said Jeff. ; " June is the time for that." " Oh, well, Jeff., we'll try a hand, — it's too bad to come so far to fish with worms, you know." '■ Tliat line is too large," said Jeff., giving my oiled silk a most contemptuous glance. "Very well," I replied, "here's one" producing another reel and line read}' foranj' emergency, " and this, certainly, is small enough." "Perhaps so," continued Jeff., with a dubious air, "but that's no sort of a reel for this work ; — and 3'our rod is too limpsy ; — your flies ain't the right size or color. I tell you, 5'ou can't get trout with the fly now — June's the time. — That sort of casting won't do for trout, either, — you won't never get one at that rate." I was proudly doing my verj- finest work, and the com- ments of this wise poler — "Turner's favorite" — were not pleasant but grievous. It was now certainly about time for Jeft'.'s duckino! I considered the matter, — but the THK WThiE POLER. — JOEDAN. — CHAELEYOIX. 297 lono'ov T considered, tlie more I thought my need of Jeff. was o-reater tlinn Jeff.'s needOf me, — and I " took it out " mainly in hiting my li]is and wisliing- Jeff.'s nose would snaj) up my tail-fly, just in the niek of a vigorous east of the line, without, however, involving me in an}" moral responsibility. I should have "played " liim with a gentle- ness and compassion only equalled in tenderness hy that of g(t(Ml old Tza;d^ Walton when lie sewed up the frog's mouth. It is true. I said somethihg— that was human natun — but only "Avords! words!" When Jeff, iiad lieen in a measure reihiced to silence and subordination, we proceeded again with our tisliing, my tricnd \\'\\\\ bait and I with tiies. Here and tliercAvc picked up a trout, the modest tiy and luunble worm in friendly (■(inlcst, and neither gaining a lead wortli tioasting of. Jetf. was answered, however, for the My did t:dve trout, the "1 mpsy" rod brought them to basket, — and it wasn't June, either. Changing fi'om I1y to bait and back again, 1 had about ('(|ual fortune with (>aeh. l>ut the day was against us, the l)est hours of the late afternoon were lost in return- ing over troutless waters to the steamer ; and we brought away more delightful memories of the river itself than w^e did of its famous swift.-tlashing trout. It is a glorious stream (I was not blinded to that) and 1 have no doubt it deserves all the Idgh ])raise it has received. Everybody told us, however, that it had been over run all summer and " tislied to death." It is every year tished more and more, — and so will pass away tlie giorj^ of the .lordan. The steamer was in waiting. Jeff., the unmitigated, and 298 GRAYLTNd.— XOr.TTTERN MT( IFKiAN. his boat were got aboard, and we followed. Arriving at Charlevoix, we found the hob^l full to ovcrllowing, but were comfortably cared for at a cleanly boarding house. When the next morning came the chvuch bell rang, but likewise blew the wliistle of the little steamer "Clara Belle," which was loaded with the rustics of Bo^ne, South Arm, Jordan and the scattered homes and hamlets in the woods, — otf for an exciu'sion to tlie Island of j\rackinaw. To " kill time,*" or " make time V" — that was the (|uestion. On due consideration, we choose the latter, and went on boanl with the excursionists and pursued our appointed journ(\v. If it were not such an old, old wonder and beauty, it might l)e worth while to attempt to descrilie that perfect da3\ with tlie blue, diincing watei's l>eneath, and the blue, dee|» and serene sky above ; the green for- ests crowding down to the sandy shore,; the pure air, — dustless, odorless and noiseless, — fanning the cheek in gentlest breezes. The people of the INIiddle West have found the secret of healthful enjojinent on their magnili- ceut lakes. When summer heats come down with blight- ing and enervating effect, the excursion steamers, bearing famil}" groups and merry parties of friends, speed away to the North. On the dancing waves of grand old Supe- rior, along the cool, forest-clad shores, far from carkiug care and thronging men and withering heat, these Wise Men of the West gather and garner new vigor, and bear homeward with them pictures of marvelous beauty and memories of happiest days. LAKE EXCURSION. — ISLAND OF MACKINAW. 299 The rustic people with whom we were thrown, this day, were an houest, quiet company. The women rather plainly showed, in their sallow faces and angular forms, the care and hardships of pioneer life and lonii', northern win- ters. The men, although more robust and of healthier countenance, were yet thinner and less buo3^ant in spirit than a similar party in the East. A melodeon, placed on board for the occasion, discoursed music at frecjuent intervals, while the people listened in a solemn way. Quiet, neighborly visiting among the older people, and harmless flirtations between the modest j^oung people, were in progress all over the boat. At length, lunch time came, and numerous baskets were produced on deck, which turned out an enormous quantity of toothsome edibles. No basket was more bountiful in good things than that of A. J. Hall, the inn-keeper of Boyne. Our hungry eyes ( tell-tale exponents of something else ) opened his generous heart, and we were feasted as liberally as if we too were from the woods of the Boyne or the Jordan. The ^Michigan shore was, all along, plainly visible on our right, but at length, almost imperceptibly rising above the waves on the north, like a summer cloud the Northern Peninsula aj^peared. Our com'se had been, so far, almost north, but now swerving eastward we sough! the passage through the Straits of Mackinaw. Historic jilaces were pointed out to strangers, the narroAving channel brought the wild shores )iear us for insjiection and admiration, and in the distance rose the rocky heights and preci])itf>us shores of the Island of Mackinaw itself, on whose crowning- point stands the fort and where waved the American flag. 300 GRAYLINCt. — KOHTHERN MICHIGAN. The outlines grew sharper, the rocks towered higher, as Ave approached. We swung into the harbor, neared the dock, and in a nionu'nt more stepped on shore among the hackmen, the loiterers and the summer visitors who had come down from the hotels. Wending our way lo the John Jacob Astor House, we found our friends of the Jor- dan, who had kindly gathered up our mail at various points and gave it to us here. We learned that in two hours the good steamer, the Marine Citi/, was due fnnn the Sault de St. Marie (" the Soo ") whither it had gone with a Dc^troit excursion party. We resolved to ''keep moving" toward home by every opportimity, and to take this steamer that evening for Detroit. The interval l)etween our arrival and that of the steamer we eniployed in raml)ling about the (piaint, peace- ful, dreanw town, strolling along the shores, and clamber- ing among the rocks l)y the water's edge to Arch Rock — a " natural bridge " Avhich has been described and pictured so often that 1 oidy stop to say it did not " meet expecta- tions.'' We had time to catch the spirit of this strange old town of the North, sitting a t[iieen where the Heels of the iidand seas float east and west through the nari'ow way at her feet, and pause to pay homage. It seemed the Castle of Indolence of the cold North where the Vikings might rest in peace and content after Avars and bloodslied, — itithei", the summer home of the old Thunder-God, Thor himself, where the Avild Avinds Avould murmur him to sleep. ]5ettei-, it is iudciKl the resting phice of the Aveary men of the South, STEAMER. — MACKINAW TO DETROIT. 301 where the purest air, the serenest days, the most serious scenery, and the far off, dreamy gaze over tlie -waves will lull and soothe and restore the worn mind and the tired heart. It was with relu(;tance — ^^almost with sadness — thai we gazed our too early farewell to the historic and romantic island, while we stood on the upper deck and the steamer moved silently out upon the darkening w^aters and into the evening shades, — the steamer's band, meanwhile, discours- ing strains of music tranquilizing. tender, and soft as the ambient air or the mirrordike waters beneath. The long, quiet evening on the water followed. We sat on the upper deck in easy chairs, and talked of the streams and woods, of old college days together, of the homes and home-ones we were journeying toward, of those we shall see no more on this side of the River, of — but we were tAvo old friends, boys together once, "old boys" now, — and it is ours to remember what we talked. — It was late, very late, when we went to our state-rooms All night long the good vessel ploAved her way through the silvery waters, trembling through every fibre with lier eager ardor. All day long she moved with the supt-rb strength born of fire and steel and vapor. She halted at the coast towns to take on and discharge passengers and freight; the band l)eguiled the waiting-time, and we traiujied up and down the streets \uitil the whistle sounded a return. The wdnd came up fresh. I remember how easil}- and with an airy grace quite exqiusite, my ^NFacki- naw hat lifted from my head and sailed off into the Huron i(> commit jWo de ae — the sixth suicide of the sort on the steamer's trip. 302 GKATLING. — NORTHERN MTCIITGAN. The sunset, that evening, was matchless in beauty, but grew terrific to see and feel. The angry orb wrapped him- self in tinted clouds which he dyed in blood. As the dark- ness came down, thunder.-^ crashed and rattled through all the air. Lightnings smote downward from the sky into the black, heaving bosom of the water, like tlie avenging sword of an archaniiel. Winds shrieked and howled among the ropes and chains like affrighted spirits of evil. Then came the dash and pour and din of the torrents of rain, — the blackness of darkness, impenetrable to the eye save b}' the frequent lightning shafts, adding its horrid majesty to , the scene. It was, altogether, something fearful and grand; and the tales that were whispered, of wreck and disaster on these stormy waters, lent additional gloom to the night and tempest. However, all that passed, and the morning came in peace and beauty, as if summer sun never grew angry and sum- mer skies never frowned nor grew black in the face. Through the St. Clair, with its suggestions of fisliing and duck -shooting, and down the Detroit River, with charm- ing resorts along its banks, we glided on our way. I'hc last good dinner on the Marine Cif// was hiistily eaten, ^\'e rose from the table, gathered u|) our slender luggage, walked over the gang-plank, and were in Detroit. There we separated, — our week in the Northern AV^ildeiMiess of Michigan ended. R C24. THE END. \ °^W(' ^' .^^^<^/1;o ^ °o A -^ '-TIT'' o'' '^ -".. -ov^ ^"■n^ OBBSBROS. , ♦VvT^P,-' ^ v! RARY BtNDINa ^ ^(l//'>>^ "» vl> -V \> * s • • ' .