UC-NRLF

B71 MDfl

m

Ill

THE LIBRARY

OF

THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA

PRESENTED BY

PROF. CHARLES A. KOFOID AND
MRS. PRUDENCE W. KOFOID

THE WAY I LATIIKRKD HIM WITH MY LEATHER BELT. WAS
A THING TO STAND OUT OF THE WAY OF

HILLS, LAKES,

AND

FOREST STREAMS

OR,

Cramp in % Cjmtogag

BY S. H. HAMMOND.

11

" For myself I prefer the quiet of the country, a ramble along the rivers and brookc,
Dr better still, some wild forest dell, where the birds are merry all the day, and where fiC
*nseemly revelry breaks the stillness of night."

NEW YORK:

J. C. DERBY, 8 PARK PLACE.
BOSTON : PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & CO.

CINCINNATI : H. W. DERBY.

1854.

ENTERED, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1854, by

S. H. HAMMOND,

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Northern District of
New York.

STEREOTYPED BY

THOMAS.B. SMITH, JOHN A

216 William St. N. Y. 97 Cllff St' N< Y

TO HIS EXCELLENCY,
HORATIO SEYMOUR.

BEFORE you became a leader of a great political party,
or the chief magistrate of a great State, you loved the
woods, the lakes, the deep shadows of the forest and the
mountain streams — to throw the fly for the speckled trout
in river or "brook,

" To follow the stag, o'er the slippery crag,
And to chase the "bounding roe"

Permit me, then, respectfully to dedicate to you, not as
the highest executive officer of the Empire State, but as
a chivalrous and enthusiastic sportsman, the following
•work.

THE AUTHOR,

PREFACE.

IF the reader will lay before him a map of the counties
of Clinton, Franklin, St. Lawrence and Essex, and begin-
ning at the Chazy lake, run his eye along thence to Brad-
ley's Lake, then to the Chateaugay, then west to Ragged
Lake and Indian Lake, and so down through the series of
small lakes, to the St. Regis, and then to the Saranacs,
and down along again through three small lakes to the
Racquette river, and then down that beautiful watercourse
to Tupper's Lake, and to Long Neack, he will note a broad
sweep of country, containing millions of acres, which, when
the following pages were written, was a perfect wilderness.
He can trace out a circle of some two hundred miles in
circumference, enclosing natural scenery the most wild
and romantic, lakes and rivers the most beautiful imagin-
able. I was out there several weeks in the woods, along
the streams, and floating on those beautiful lakes, and saw
during that time no face of a white man, save that of my

vi PKEFACE.

guide, or perhaps my own, reflected back from the quiet
depths of some of those pure waters, that nestle so qui-
etly among the ancient forests and the hills.

I was on a " tramp," partly for health and partly for
pleasure. I had no intention of publishing a book of ad-
ventures, but I kept memoranda in pencil in small field-
books, and after my return wrote them out as my leisure
permitted. Some three or four of the first chapters were
published in the shape of letters to editors of my ac-
quaintance. The balance rested until I became connected
with the press, as the editor of the Albany State Register.
I looked upon the manuscript as a sort of fund, upon
which I could draw for light reading, with which to amuse
my readers when pressed for "copy." Upon submitting
it to one of the proprietors of the paper for his aid in
making selections, he surprised me somewhat by saying
it was all readable, and advised me to begin at the begin-
ning, without troubling myself by making extracts. I
followed his advice, and a large portion of the work was
thus published in chapters, in my paper. It was well
spoken of by friends, in whose judgment I had confidence,
and was somewhat extensively copied by the press. I was
advised to publish the whole in a book form. I submitted
it to a gentleman in the publishing line, and here it is, my
first, and very possibly my last effort, at authorship. It

PREFACE, vii

does not challenge criticism. It makes no special preten-
sions to literary merit. People who love nature, who have
a taste for the old woods, the lakes, and streams, and the
forest sports, may read, and possibly be amused by it.
They will doubtless find that it contains many faults, if
they choose to look for them.

There was, and doubtless still is, plenty of fish, plenty of
deer, plenty of sport in that wild region, and, I venture to
say, that there is no locality in the United States, at all to
be compared with it in natural beauty of scenery. I was
over most of the ground again last fall. The places I
visited five years ago, are vastly easier of access now than
they were then. The tourist can now go from Port Kent,
on Lake Champlain, to the foot of the Lower Saranac, in a
day. He will travel the whole distance, save about twelve
miles, on a plank road, and the balance on a tolerably
smooth common road. All making the most delightful
day's journey imaginable.

On the banks of the Lower Saranac, literally at the end
of the road, he will find " Martin's House," a new and
comfortable country hotel, kept by pleasant, obliging peo-
ple. Here he will hire a boatman, with his boat and tent,
cooking utensils, and a store of provisions, and go a hun-
dred miles, if he chooses, " outside of a fence," over the
most beautiful lakes, and along the most delightful rivers

viii PKEFACE*

and streams that the eye ever looked upon, but all wild,
remember-— all as nature threw them down there, among
old primeval things. His journeyings will not be toil*
some, he will have no tramping in the woods, save occa-
sional short carrying places, over which his boatman will
march with his craft, like a great turtle with his shell on
his back, He will see much that I saw, and have at-
tempted to describe, and a good deal that I did not see,
perhaps. And if he loves nature, and takes matters easy,
and gives himself time, he will come out of the woods, as
I did, a stronger, healthier, and a wiser man.

THE AUTHOR.

€/ fftt t t It t 8

CHAPTER I.

PAGE

HO! FOR THE WlLDWOODSl — THE LAKES AND THE MOUNTAIN
STREAMS . 13

CHAPTER II.

THE PRISON IN THE WOODS — THS CHAZT TROUT FISHING — HUNT-
ING BY TORCHLIGHT . 18

CHAPTER III.

RAGGED LAKE — A FISHPOND ON THE MOUNTAIN — THE BARK
CANOE — A DEER CHASE ON THE WATER , 26

CHAPTER IV.

INDIAN LAKE — THE GROUND CEDAR AND THE FAWN — THE LAKE
TROUT — THE CATAMARAN — THE OWLS . . 38

CHAPTER V.

A TROUT-STREAM — PARTRIDGES — THE FISHER — NAMING- A LAKE
— A THUNDER-STORM IN THE FOREST — MEAOHAM'S LAKE. . . 49

CHAPTER VI.

MORNING IN THE WOODS— MY GUIDE— A FIRST VISIT TO THE
CITY — A MISTAKE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 67

X CONTENTS,

CHAPTER VII.

FAQB

THE DESERTED HUT — HUNTING ON THE CRUST — FOREST JUSTICE
ADMINISTERED BY A HUNTER — A CAPTIVE AND ITS RELEASE . 68

CHAPTER VIII.

GOING ROUND THE HUDSON — THE PANTHER AND ITS CUBS —
FOREST COOKERY 77

CHAPTER IX.
THE LOST CHILD — SHACK 87

CHAPTER X.

DREAMS — THE PRAIRIES ON FIRE — A WOOD-DEMON'S TORCH . 98

CPIAPTER XI.

ST. REGIS LAKE — THE BALD EAGLE — His HABITS — A PRIZE .106

CHAPTER XII.

THE LAW OP THE WOODS — BIG CLEAR POND — A CHASE AFTER
A DEER — A MOOSE PATH 117

CHAPTER XIII.

THE UPPER SARANAC — A SONG ON THE WATER — A WOODMAN'S
NOTION OP THE PAST, THE PRESENT, AND THE FUTURE, OP
AMERICA 126

CHAPTER XIV.

A SPORTING EXCURSION — A FOREST CHASE — THE Music OP THE
HOUNDS — THE MAN WHO KILLED THE PANTHER AND THE BIG
BUCK 136

CHAPTER XV.

TOUGH TARNS — A SHELTER IN A STORM — AN ASTONISHED BEAR
—AN UNINVITED GUEST, AND HIS UNCEREMONIOUS EXPULSION . 146

CONTENTS. XI

CHAPTER XVI.

PAOK

SIGNS OP RAIN — THE TREE FROG — A RAINY DAY IN THE FOREST 153

CHAPTER XVII.

A RAINY MORNING — CLEARING UP A NEW COUNTRY — A HALF-
BREED AND HIS FAMILY 163

CHAPTER XVIII.

STONEY BROOK — AMPERSAND CREEK — TROUT — RACKET RIVER —
A FLYING SHOT AT A BUCK 172

CHAPTER XIX.

A WOODMAN'S SERMON — His RELIGION OP NATURE — His ARGU-
MENT AGAINST INFIDELITY 189

CHAPTER XX.

THE SILENT ENERGY OF NATURE—HER WORKSHOPS — HER JOUR-
NEYMEN ...,.,. 202

CHAPTER XXI.

THE EAGLE AND HIS PREY — THE LOON — His HABITS — THE PAR-
TRIDGE— THE SQUIRREL AND THE FOREST MICE 209

CHAPTER XXII,

THE GRAY OWL— THE WILD BIRDS — THE DUMB ANIMAL WISER
IN HIS INSTINCTS, THAN MAN IN HIS REASON — THE FOLLY
OF CRIME 219

CHAPTER XXIII.

THE JESUIT'S JOURNAL — WILD BULLS AND Cows, WITH ANTLERS
LIKE THE STAG — THE "TAMING" OF THE INDIANS .... 228

CHAPTER XXIV.

A WILD CAT — LONG NEAK — ROUND LAKE — THE LOWER SARANAC
— A FIGHT BETWEEN A PANTHER AND A BEAR . , . 236

Xll CONTENTS.

CHAPTER XXV.

PAGE

THE GROWTH OF AMERICA — ITS PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE —
A WOODMAN'S IDEA OP EXPANSION 246

CHAPTER XXVI.

MANIFEST DESTINY — YOUNG AMERICA ON THE MOTE . . . .258

CHAPTER XXVII.

THE LOWER SARANAC — THE BALD EAGLE — UMBRELLA ISLAND —
BALL-FACE MOUNTAIN — MOUNT MARCT 270

CHAPTER XXVIU.

THE STORY OF OLD PETE MEIGS — THE MASSACRE, AND THE
EETRIBUTION THAT FOLLOWED 286

CHAPTER XXIX.

A DBERLICK — THE VERMONTER AND HIS LICKLOG — SHOOTING

THE WRONG ANIMAL 300

CHAPTER XXX.

OLD SHADRACH, AND THE WATER RATTLESNAKE — TUCKER'S NO-
TION OF SLAVERY — THE END OF THAT INSTITUTION AT LAST .308

CHAPTER XXXI.

MOONLIGHT ON THE WATER — A VILLAGE WIPED OUT — THE Au
SABLE — KEESEVILLE — THE GORGE — AN ORE PIT 324

HO ! FOR THE WlLDWOODS ! — THE LAKES AND THE MOUNTAIN
STREAMS.

READER —

Have you ever been away in the wild woods,
beyond the range of civilization, where the sound of
the hammer, the lowing of flocks and herds, the voice
of the ploughman, as he cries " Gee up ! Gee whoa 1"
to his weary team, were never heard? Have you
ever stood on the margin of some beautiful lake, as
it lay slumbering in the midst of nature's wild luxuri-
ance, above which the mountains reared their gigantic
heads to the clouds, and around which the tall trees
stood as " God and nature" made them, unscarred by
the woodman's axe, sighing and moaning in the sum-
mer winds that swept among them ? Have you all
alone, by yourself or with an experienced woodman,

14 HILLS AND LAKES.

in a little craft hewn from, the solid trunk of some
gigantic pine, explored its little bays, its secluded
inlets canopied by the wide-spreading arms of the
trees, and festooned by the wild vines hanging grace-
fully from the branches above you. ? Have you
listened to the voice of the tiny wave, as it broke in
ripples on the white sand at your feet, or the song of
the little brook, as it danced over the rocks, to mingle
with the pure waters before you ? Have you heard,
of a moonlight night, as you floated on its silvery
bosom, the song of the whip-poor-will, the solemn hoot-
ing of the owl, the deep bass of the frog, the shrill cry
of the loon, the call of the wood duck, and the thou-
sand other mysterious voices that come up from wood
and lake — all mingling in the wild harmony of
nature's nightly forest hymn? If you have not,
throw down your book or your pen, close your pon-
derous ledger, cast away your briefs, give care to the
dogs, and turn your back upon the glare and heat of
the city, its eternal jostlings and monotonous noises,
and fly to the deep shadows of the mountains, the
forest dells, and the running brooks — away from clus-
tered houses, beyond the green fields, and rough it for
a few weeks in the woods, among the tall trees and

THE WILDWOODS. 15

the streams, where the lakes lay sleeping alone in the
northern wilds.

In these times of railroads and steamboats, a few
hundred miles are as nothing, You rise in the morn-
ing in the heart of the Empire State, the centre of a
circle containing three millions of people. You sleep
at night on the circumference of that circle, on the
confines of a broad sweep of country, as yet scarcely
explored, known only to the bold hunter, who spends
all his seasons save the winter, in the pursuit of the
game that dwells only in the depths of the forest.
Jump aboard of the cars at Troy for Whitehall.
Tarry not a moment at Saratoga ; there are people
there — searchers after pleasure or pelf. The rich, the
gay, the fashionable are there ; invalids in pursuit of
health, and sharpers in pursuit of plunder, all congre-
gate there. Leave them behind you, and ho ! for the
wildwoods, the lakes, and the forest streams. Stop
not at Whitehall, pleasant though it be ; there are
people there too. A steamboat will hurry you to
Plattsburgh ; jump aboard and be off! You will
soon be gliding along the beautiful waters of the
Champlain. You will see " Old Ti.," the surrender of
which, old Ethan Allen, as he, with his Green Moun-

16 HILLS AND LAKES.

tain boys came tumbling over the walls, demanded
in the " name of the great Jehovah, and the Conti-
nental Congress 1" You will see the ruins on Crown
Point — grim monuments of a vanished age ! You
will see on your left the mountains of Essex, lifting
their bald heads to the clouds. On the right you will
see flocks and herds, feeding in green fields that
stretch back to the base of the hills, and away off in
the distance, the Green Mountains looming up in
solemn grandeur, on the summits of which the mists
of heaven rests, and along whose sides gigantic
shadows chase each other, as the light clouds flit be-
fore the sun.

Plattsburgh is classic ground. It was the scene of
a notable sea-fight, and of a hard contest on the land.
But leave it behind you. Battle-fields are common-
place; you can find them nearer home, where the
bones of slaughtered men are more abundant, and
the halo of blood-bought glory is brighter. Leave
fighting-men to moralize over the places of the fight,
and be off for Dannemora, the prison in the woods.
There you will be at the end of the road. There
civilization has made a pause. Tame life will be
behind you, while all before you will be forest, wild

THE WILDWOODS. 17

and unbroken, luxuriant and solemn, tall trees and
running brooks, quiet lakes and rugged mountains.
Old primeval things all, as they were spoken into
existence by the voice of God.

It

THE PRISON IN THE WOODS. — THE CHAZT TROUT FISHINO.
HUNTING BY TORCHLIGHT.

I ARRIVED at Dannemora on the 26th. of June.
My old friend seized upon my baggage and sent it to
his house, and then gave me my choice to follow it or
quarrel with him. We had been friends too long to
quarrel, so I followed my trunk, and made my head-
quarters with him. To those who know him, nothing
need be said of his kindness and hospitality, his quiet
and gentlemanly deportment, his manly sincerity and
firmness of character. To those who do not know
him, it needs only be said, "he is every inch a man."
Some five miles from Dannemora, in the woods, lays
Chazy Lake, on the banks of which is a shantee
erected for the benefit of the fishermen that visit it.
The way to this lake lays along a path through

ROUT-FISHING. 19

woods, that winds up and over a mountain some fif-
teen hundred feet in elevation.

The morning after my arrival I left Dannemora,
and struck into the woods. I procured a guide, who
was perfectly familiar with all the wild region which
I proposed to visit, who carried a large pack of pro-
visions, and other things necessary for our tramp in
the woods. Among the tools regarded as indispen-
sable, were an axe and augur. He carried no gun.
For myself my load consisted of a rifle, and my fish-
ing apparatus, including basket and rods.

How I love the woods ! the deep shadows and the
tall trees — the music of the woods too, its thousand
voices all tuned to harmony, and all singing of
primitive life and happiness. I love the mountain
stream as he goes dashing and frisking over the
rocks, diving under the logs, whirling away under
caverned banks, where the trout sleeps, dancing over
the pebbles and spreading abroad quietly, as if asleep
in the still places. "We arrived at Chazy, after a
weary walk of three hours. It is a beautiful sheet
of water, five miles in length, by one or more in
breadth. Above it, on the south and east, tower
lofty mountains covered with gigantic timber, while

20 HILLS AND LAKES.

on the west and north the old forest stretches away
in all its primeval grandeur. It is indented with
beautiful bays, in which a boat may float unseen from
the broad lake itself. A hundred little streams
come dancing and laughing down precipitous ledges,
or from little inlets, into which our canoe would glide,
while above us the branches of the trees, festooned with
wild vines met, like an arbor in a lady's garden—

""We cast our lines in Largo Bay."

Eeader, did you ever throw the fly to tempt the
silvery denizen of the lake, or river, to his destruction?
Have you watched him, as it skimmed like a living
insect along the surface, dart from his hiding-place,
and rush upon the tempting but deceitful morsel ; and
have you noticed his astonishment, when he found the
hook was in his jaw? Have you watched him, as he
bent your slender rod "like a reed shaken by the
wind," in his efforts to free himself, and then have
you reeled him to your hand, and deposited him in
your basket, as the spoil of your good right arm ? If
you have not, leave the dull, monotonous, every-day
things around you, and flee to the Chazy Lake. If
you have and love the sport, still tramp over the

HUNTING BY TORCHLIGHT. 21

hills, beneath the cool shades of the brave old trees,
to the Chazy.

We did not wantonly waste the good things of
God. In ten minutes we had secured trout enough
for our supper and breakfast, and our consciences
would permit us to go no further. "We returned to
our shantee, and having supped, prepared for a differ-
ent kind of sport in the evening. The forest abounds
with deer, and these animals in the night come to the
water to get rid of the insects that torment them, and
to feed on the lilies and grasses that grow in the shal-
low water near the shore. While thus feeding, you
may paddle a canoe, with a light in the bow, literally
up to them, provided the light is so arranged that you
are behind it in the shade. They will stand gazing
fearlessly at the light until the canoe, in some instances,
fairly touches them. With a small torch of fatwood
in the bow of our dug-out, we shoved from the shore
about nine o'clock, in pursuit of deer. We moved
slowly and silently along the margin of the lake, my
guide seated at the stern of the canoe, and I crouched
in the bow, just behind the light, and shaded from it
by broad sheets of bark, — so arranged that the rays
would fall on the forward sight of my rifle. We had

22 HILLS AND LAKES.

gone but a short distance when I discovered, some
eight or ten rods in advance of us, what to me seemed
two balls of fire, but which in fact was the reflection
of our light from the staring eyeballs of an old buck,
that had been feeding in the lake. Unmindful of the
admonitions of my guide, I leaned over the side of the
boat to get a better view of his buckship, when the
light fell upon my face. I have been called a good-
looking man, and told that my features were comely,
but that buck thought otherwise, for the moment he
saw it he bounded away, and went whistling and
snorting up the mountain. He had no appreciation
of manly beauty !

We passed silently on into a little bay, where the
same phenomenon of double lights presented itself.
Slowly and silently the boat glided along towards the
spot, when a slight deviation from our course showed
us a large deer gazing stupidly at our light. We ad-
vanced to within some forty feet of where he stood,
when the canoe came to a stand, and I fired. The
ball went through his brain, and he fell dead. We
were now provided with venison, and we returned to
our shantee. Fatigue makes rest pleasant, and we
slept soundly on green hemlock boughs that night.

HUNTING BY TORCHLIGHT. 28

A smudge protected us from the musquitoes and
black flies, and our slumbers were unbroken.

The next day we started for Bradley's pond, a
little lake some five miles deeper in the forest, and
midway between the Shazee and the Upper Chatau-
gay. On the bank we built a temporary shantee, and
I threw my fly for a few minutes — but it was wasteful
to take trout as I caught them there, and I desisted.
We coasted this little sea before evening. It is per-
haps two miles in circumference, but has little that is
attractive about it, save that it lays there all alone in
the forest, and great trees hem it in on all sides. Its
shores are low and marshy, and I cannot recommend
it for its beauty. In the evening we prepared a torch,
and struck out on the water in pursuit of deer. It is
marvellous, the number there were, along the shores
of this little lake. It affords, however, abundant pas-
ture for them. Pond-lilies and grasses grow in the
shallow water in great profusion. The pond-lily, in
these lakes, differs from any I have ever seen else-
where. It grows up from the bottom, sometimes from
a depth of fifteen feet, with a great rough stem like a
cabbage-stalk, of the same pithy and fibrous texture,
as large as a man's arm, until it reaches the surface,

24 HILLS AND LAKES.

and there shoots out a hundred tendrils all round, at
the end of each one having a great round leaf. From
each of these great stems, the leaves thus arranged,
and connected with it by the small tendrils, spread
over a surface of four or six feet in diameter. It is
upon these large stems that the deer feed. They
manage to loosen them in some way from the bottom,
and feed upon them as they float upon the surface.
We could hear them stamping in the water, and the
grating sound of their teeth, as they bit into the stems
of the pond-lilies. Every few rods, double lights
would glisten before us, and strange to say, the stupid
beasts would stand until the canoe approached within
six feet of them, gazing in apparent amazement at the
strange light that was advancing upon them, but when
we looked out from the shadow and showed them our
faces, Lord ! how they would snort and run. We had
no occasion for venison, and we did them no harm
that night. In the morning we packed up again, and
dove deeper into the forest. We struck for the Cha-
eaugay (called Shatagee) Lakes, and about ten o'clock
came to the head of the Upper Lake. This lake is
often visited by sportsmen in the summer months, and
has as often, almost been described. It is rarely, how-

HUNTING BY TORCHLIGHT. 25

ever, that it has been visited in the direction we came.
It has usually been approached from the Lower Lake,
on the lower portion of which is a settlement. In-
deed, I was told that it could not well be reached from
the Chazy. But my guide knew the woods, and I
followed him. I had good sport every mile of the
way. We followed the outlet of Bradley's Lake, and
crooked enough it was too. But the stream abounds
in trout, and I shot a fine deer and two wood-rabbits
on the route.

III.

LA.EE — A. FISHPOND ON THE MOUNTAIN. — THE BARK
CANOE. — A DEER CHASE ON THE WATKR.

I STARTED the next morning for Eagged Lake,
some ten miles deeper in the wilderness. On this ex-

/

pedition we were guided solely by the instinct, or if
you please, the judgment of my guide. We found no
path — no footsteps or marked trees to point out the
way, but through "tangle brush," and over logs felled
by the strong winds, we travelled on. Ten miles in
the wilderness, of a hot summer day, with a rifle,
fishing-rod, and basket, is a journey which must not
be lightly considered ; a mile, under such circum-
stances, requires a multitude of steps and many drops
of "the sweat of a man's brow." True, the way is
enlivened by the song of the forest bird, the chirp of
the squirrel, and the murmuring of the mountain
brooks ; still the feet become weary, and the mossy

THE POND OK THE MOUNTAIN. 27

bank of some wild stream looks pleasant, as a resting-
place from the toil of travel.

Our way at one place lay across a hill, lower to be
sure than the mountains on our left, but which rose to
an elevation of some eight hundred or a thousand feet
above the ravine that wound around its base, Here,
on the very summit of a hill, we came to a pond some
two hundred yards in circumference, the water of
which was beautifully clear and cold ; two small
streams from its opposite sides started off in contrary
directions, on their journey to "the great deep," the
one to empty itself into the Chazy, and the other to
wander, the Lord knows where, save to its final des-
tination, the mighty St. Lawrence and the ocean.
Though blest with two outlets, the pond had no inlet
visible to the eye. It was in fact a great spring or
reservoir, on a dividing ridge, which received its
waters from below, to send them off through the
channels I have mentioned. The land around it was
marshy, but covered with small boulders, which lay
around the edge with the regularity almost of a wall.

Having rigged my pole and line, I stepped from
rock to rock to the margin of the pond, and threw
my fly. It had scarcely touched the water when it

28 HI;LLS AND LAKES.

was seized by a speckled trout, weighing, perhaps, a
quarter of a pound. I caught six more " of the same
sort" as fast as I could throw my fly, — and could have
caught any quantity ; but we needed only enough for
a dinner, and I forbore. In the meantime my guide
had kindled a fire by the side of a fallen tree, and had
already upon the coals a steak, cut from the deer I
had killed on the previous night. This together with
the trout, subjected to the same broiling process, and
bread and butter, constituted our dinner. Let not
your fancy picture mahogany tables, white napkins,
silver forks, China dishes, and cushioned chairs, —
these are far removed from the simple wants and
necessities of life — they belong to the cities — to the
age of luxury and studied refinement. Clean birch
bark, just stripped from the tree, and a jack-knife, are
the simple implements of a forest dinner. "Fingers
were made before forks," and a hungry man must not
be over delicate about using them.

I am a temperate man, and can talk right elo-
quently about the evils of strong drink, but the
pocket pistol, from the pack of my guide, loaded with
choice brandy, did me no hurt that day, though dis-
charged at my own head.

THE BAEK CA^OE. 29

Having dined, and for half an hour rested our
weary limbs, we shouldered our traps and marched
on : about three o'clock we found ourselves at Eagged
Lake, — as beautiful a sheet of water as ever poet sang
of, or enthusiast described. On this lake we found no
boat ; few amateur fishermen have had the courage to
visit its seclusion ; and the hunter, as he ranges the
wilderness, finds no use for a water craft. But my
guide was a man of experience, and of vast resource
in all that related to wood craft. " "We will," said he,
" coast this lake as we have done the rest, and that in
a vessel of our own construction."

In the neighborhood of the lake are scattered fir
trees of large growth, one of which my guide selected
for his purpose, and with his axe felled it to the
ground. From the bark stripped from the trunk of
this tree, we had, long before sundown, constructed a
canoe which, by the exercise of great caution, and by
keeping " our chew of tobacco precisely in the middle
of the mouth," enabled us to navigate the lake.
It was a curiosity in its way, — small saplings or
"staddles," as my guide termed them, cut first some
six feet in length, then being nearly severed in the
middle, were bent together like clamps, confined and

30 HILLS AND LAKES.

held in contact the ends of the bark; these formed
the bow and stern ; tow, which had found a place in
the pack of my guide, was stuffed into the crevices ;
over this was poured melted gum. gathered from
around the knots of the tree we had felled, and from
cracks in the unsound trunks of others around us ;
sticks stretched across from side to side gave it shape,
and slim "staddles" laid lengthwise in the bottom,
gave it strength to sustain our weight. Paddles were
hewn from slabs, split from the trunk of the tree we
had felled. Being all prepared, we launched our
homely vessel, and seating ourselves in the bottom on
a cushion of boughs, we shoved from the shore.

" She walked the -water like a thing of life."

So long as we remained seated on the bottom, it
was steady enough, but when, from our cramped
position, it became necessary to change our posture,
it required the skill of a rope dancer to preserve
our equilibrium, and prevent one's self from being
plumped into the cold waters of the lake.

This sheet of water is most appropriately named.
Its outlines are peculiarly irregular, — most emphatic-
ally ragged. Here a rocky bluff thrusts its long nose

BAGGED LAKE. 81

seaward, while just beyond a wild lagoon winds far
inland, now broad and again growing narrower, until
it terminates in a shady cavern, the roof of which ia
composed of the branches of tall trees lovingly inter
twined, forming an arbor of the densest shade,
and most refreshing coolness. Here a sandy beach,
shining in the sunlight, along which the little waves
ripple, and from which the deer-paths wind away
among the willows and alders that skirt it. Here, a
sudden and bold descent in the bottom, leaving above
it waters of unknown depths, in which the lake-trout
makes his home. There a bar stretches far out from
the shore, upon which rushes and the tall grasses
grow, and further still the brilliant pond-lily glistens
in its pure whiteness, like a star resting on the bosom
of the waters. To the south-west Mount Lyon rears
his tall head to the clouds ; standing like a gigantic
sentinel overlooking forest and lake, and watching in
moveless silence the wilderness around him.

But few sportsmen have ever penetrated to this
lake, and its waters swarm with trout. They have
never learned to beware of the "fly," nor been taught
to distrust the perilous hook. In their simplicity they
take feathers and silk for the gadfly, and the miller,

32 HILLS AND LAKES.

and the worm, coiled upon jour hook, for a genuine
wanderer from the bogs of the marshy bank. " Here
they are born, grow great, and die," undisturbed and
and unpersecuted by the sportsman.

We found the deer, too, more numerous than we
had seen them before. Long ere the night shadows
had gathered around us, we saw them stealing out
from the thickets that skirted the lake. They would
walk stealthily and warily into the water, and after
stooping their graceful necks to drink, would swim
away, as if to indulge a cooling bath and saturate
their " red coats" with water, and then return to feed
quietly by the shore, secure alike from the annoyance
of insects and the heat of a summer sun. In the
night, we went out among them with a light in the
bow of our canoe, and the number we frightened
" into fits" was not small. From their actions, I infer
that our features were by no means pleasant to them,
for the moment they caught sight of our faces, they
ran off with a speed that a race -horse might envy.
Our visit will long be remembered by them. The
story will go down "to their children, and their chil-
dren's children," as the epoch of the advent of strange
monsters, who came among them in the night to

BAGGED LAKE. 33

frighten their fathers from their propriety, but to our
credit it will be told, that we left them unharmed, save
by the terrors of our transient presence. We returned
to our shantee, and fell asleep under the lullaby of
nature's midnight serenade.

The next day we coasted the lake, to explore its
hundred quiet and secluded nooks. We found that
in the little bays, at the heads of which the mountain
streams emptied their cold waters, the speckled trout
congregated, while in the deep water, off the bold
rocky bluffs, the lake-trout most abounded. We
dined near the north end of the lake ; our table and
our seat was a venerable moss-covered boulder, be-
neath which a cold spring bubbled up, and above
which, great maples spread their leafy branches like a
canopy over us; protected by a "smudge" from the
black fly and mosquitoes, we took our siesta, such as
weary limbs and a hearty meal can alone give zest to.
After luxuriating thus for a couple of hours, we
paddled back along the opposite shore, towards our
shantee, to spend the night. On our way we encoun-
tered numerous broods , of the wood-duck, whose
wings were as yet unfledged, but which, under the
guardian care of the mother, skimmed away from us,

34 HILLS AND LAKES.

and liid themselves among the weeds and willows
along the shore.

"We " lay to" under the cool shadow of a huge fir
tree that leaned out from the rocks, to rest awhile
from our labor, and to enjoy the beauty of the scenery
around us. I had just lighted a Havanna, and was
giving its "perfume to the breeze," when, from a
point just ahead of us, we saw a fine deer step into
the lake, and after stooping his head to drink, wade
forward and strike out, apparently for the opposite
shore. It would seem that he preferred swimming
across, to a journey around the lake. We waited
until he had got so far from the shore that we could
cut him off from returning to it, and then put out in
chase of him. The lake was entirely calm ; not a
ripple disturbed its glassy surface, save the long wake
in the rear of the deer himself. Hearing the sound
of our paddles, he turned his head and discovered us.
For a moment he seemed to hesitate as to what course
to take ; he looked first in one direction, then in
another, as if to ascertain the surest point of escape.
"We were now between him and the shore, and he
struck boldly forward. Our vessel was a clumsy as
well as a frail one, and we gained on him but slowly,

A DEER CHASE. 35

— still we did gain on him. When the chase began,
he was some thirty rods in advance of us, swimming
for dear life towards the nearest point on the opposite
shore, some half a mile or more distant.

It was no boy's play to overtake that deer. In
the excitement of the race, however, we forgot the
labor, and burning heat of the sun, — we took no heed
to the big drops of sweat that chased each other down
our faces, as we pulled with might and main after
him. Yet we had no thought of taking his life, — that
we might easily have done, for my loaded rifle lay in
the bottom of our little craft. Our object was a trial
of speed, to witness his wild affright, and his desperate
efforts to escape our pursuit. "Well, we pulled steadily
after him ; a stern chase is said to be a long chase,
but when we were two-thirds of the way across the
lake, our canoe was at his tail. Had we been less ex-
cited, it would have seemed to us cruel to witness the
agony of his fright. He would plunge forward with
an effort that would raise him half out of the water,
and then settle down again desperately to his work.
"With a look of horrible wildness, and nostrils dis-
tended, he struggled forward. Once we shouted a
wild halo 1 as our canoe touched him, and the poor

36 HILLS AND LAKES.

animal, regarding himself as lost, bleated out in the
extremity of his terror. Still he pressed nrfj[y for-
ward, our canoe in fierce and hot pursuit, u.j.til his
hoofs touched the bottom, then the chase war up ; a
few desperate leaps brought him to the beach, and he
plunged triumphantly into his native wil/fe. We
heard his long bounds, and the crashing of the dry
brush growing fainter and fainter, until the 7 were lost
in the distance, and all was still again. That deer
will remember us to his dying day, — nor shall we
soon forget him. There were few dry thieads in our
garments when the chase was ended, and they were
not wet by the waters of the lake. Our acquaintance,
like many that are formed in this life, though brief,
was impressive.

"Slowly," but not "sadly," we paddled back to
our brush shantee, and while the sun seemed hanging
like a lantern in the tops of the forest trees, we sat
down to our supper.

We were too weary that night to disturb the deer,
and we retired early to our boughs ; we had to renew
our smudge every hour to keep off the insects that
" revel in human blood." There was little danger of
•sur neglecting this duty, for as the smoke ceased, the

SLEEPING IN THE FOREST. 37

tiny trumpet of the musquitoe sounded in our ears,
and the sting of his puny spear admonished us to re-
plenish the fire.

Few men can sleep late in the forest, especially
among those little accustomed to

"A lodge in some vast •wilderness."

The change from the solemn dirge of the night, to the
gay joyous song of the morning, — as note after note
chimes in, to welcome the rising day, is too exhil-
arating to allow of the continuance of slumber.

We were up before the sun the next morning. .A
plunge in the lake from a point of rocks near ouj
shantee, dissipated the lassitude that hung upon us
and a few throws of the fly provided us a breakfast oi
trout.

IV.

INDIAN LAKK. — THE GROUND CEDAR AND THE FAWIT. — THE
TRO'UT. — THE CATAMARAN. — THE OWLS

HAVING broken our fast, we took up our line of
march for Indian Lake, another beautiful sheet of
water, some eight miles deeper in the wilderness.
"Were it not for the constant change of objects and
scenery, such a tramp would be anything but pleas-
ant. But new sights and new sounds, new birds and
new songs, too, are constantly occurring, so that the
excitement of novelty robs travel of much of its
weariness. Still it requires some nerve on a hot day,
to measure miles in the forest, by the repetition of
footsteps. It is a thing to be considered, and one who
sees no charm in a forest life, who hears no music in
the wild notes of the birds, and the sighing of the
breezes among the leaves of the greenwood, whose ear
is deaf to the voice of the running brook, had better

THE G HOUND-CEDAR. 39

leave it alone. It will interfere with his comfort.
We went trudging along, stumbling over boulders
and roots, scrambling over huge logs, and around the
tops of fallen trees, for an hour or more, when we
came to a patch of table land, slightly elevated above
the surrounding country. It was comparatively bare
of underbrush, and had upon it but few trees of a
larger growth. This opening contained perhaps four
or five acres, and was covered with short coarse grass
and weeds, with here and there a clump of what my
guide termed ground-cedar. This shrub grows from
a single stem, as large perhaps as a man's arm, from
which branches spread out along upon, or a few
inches from, the ground, to a distance of from six to
ten feet, so that one of these shrubs will extend over
a circle from ten to twenty feet in diameter, present-
ing an evergreen surface of dense foliage, and at no
place over twelve inches from the ground. I was ex-
amining one of these, when I discovered two beauti-
fully bright and soft eyes, peering through the inter-
twined branches at me. I was at first startled, but
upon examination found them to belong to a fawn,
that had been hid away by its dam beneath the
ground-cedar. It was a beautiful little animal, as

40 HILLS AND LAKES.

large perhaps as a lamb of a week old. Its color was
a light red, bordering on yellow, dotted with a multi-
tude of dark spots, of the size of a shilling. Its limbs
were delicately and beautifully formed, and its whole
structure presented an appearance of peculiar lightness
and agility. There it lay, snug in its hiding-place, as
if unconscious that one of the greatest enemies of its
race was gazing upon it. It is a peculiar instinct of
the fawn, while yet young, to remain in the hiding-
place in which it is placed by its dam, even though
danger and death approach it. It did not offer t~ stir,
as I lifted it from its bed of leaves, and held it in my
arms, without a struggle on its part, or any attempt at
escape. After examining it a few minutes, I placed it
quietly in its bed again, and passed on. As we
entered the woods, we noticed the white flag of the
mother, as she bounded in a circle round us, towards
where her little one had been secreted. She had
doubtless been watching us as we stood by the spot,
and was hastening back to see if her treasure had
been stolen.

We reached Indian Lake about noon, and erected
our shantee for the night. Finding no materials for
constructing a boat, we proceeded to make a raft,

CONSTEUCTING A KAFT. 41

which should serve as a substitute. In tliis we found
but little difficulty. On the eastern shore, tall fir
trees of all sizes may be found, many of which are
dead, or as the woodmen term it, dry. These are ex-
ceedingly light and buoyant, and four or five of them,
of the diameter of eight or ten inches at the butt, and
some twenty -five feet in length, laid side by side in
the water, and properly fastened together by cross-
pieces pinned to them, will easily float the weight of
two men. My guide, with his axe and augur, soon
succeeded in constructing such a raft, upon which we
fashioned a rude bench at each end, on which to sit.
Having provided ourselves with setting poles, we
shoved into the lake. Here, as elsewhere, we found
no difficulty in supplying ourselves with trout. WQ
poled along the margin of the lake, until in rounding
a rocky promontory, we found ourselves suddenly in
water too deep for the length of our poles. A breeze,
not very strong to be sure, was blowing from the
shore, and our raft, under its impulse, put out for the
centre of the lake. Having no paddles, and being
unable to control our raft, we were forced to see our-
selves floating away towards the opposite shore, three-
fourths of a mile distant. Patience was the remedy

4:2 HILLS AND LAKES.

for this involuntary voyage, and as we were in no
hurry, having no notes to pay by a given hour, nor
railroad station to reach by a given minute, we re-
signed ourselves to our fate, and floated quietly on. I
had a long line, such as is used in trolling, and we
amused ourselves by sounding the depth of the lake.
We found it varying from thirty to some eighty feet.
When near the centre of the lake it occurred to me,
that perhaps in the deep water the great trout, — the
aristocratic portion of the finny tribe, might hold their
court. Do you remember that in one of Cooper's
novels, I can't tell which, the old fisherman of the
Otsego discourses about the patriarch of the salmon-
trout, the old "mossy back," the largest and cimning-
est trout in all the lake, — the "Sockdolager," as he
called him? Well, I thought of the "Sockdolager,"
and that it might be, that just beneath me, he of the
Indian Lake might be reposing ; so I fastened a small
trout I had caught near the shore, to the large hook
at the end of my trolling-line, and having fastened
several bullets to the line by way of sinker, threw out.
It had scarcely reached to the depth of sixty feet,
when I felt a jerk, which the fisherman knows is not
made by any of the " small fry." Hand over hand I

SAILING THE BAFT. 43

hauled in, while whatever was at the other end of the
line, pulled and jerked in a way that proved him to
be anything but willing to approach the surface.
Being the stronger, of course I had my way, and in a
few moments a trout weighing some six pounds,
flopped with a jerk upon our raft. A knock on the
head with a stick stilled him, and I had one of the
genuine " sockdolagers" of the Indian Lake as my
captive.

In the course of an hour we had floated across the
lake, and landed on a sandy beach. Here we found
numerous tracks of the deer, and the paths, which led
away into the forest, indicated that the water was
much frequented by them. "We followed a small
stream that entered the lake, in the hope of finding a
spring of cold water. In this we were not disap-
pointed, for a few rods from the shore we found
a beautiful fountain, bubbling up from beneath a
gnarled and ancient birch. A cup of this, with a
sprinkling of old Cogniac, was exceeding comfortable
just then.

Our catamaran, though well enough before the
wind, was not a thing upon which we could beat up
against it, and we had at least two miles of polling to

44 HILLS AND LAKES.

get back to our shantee. This we accomplished in as
many hours. When we came to the promontory
from which we took our forced voyage across the
lake, my guide went ashore, and peeling long strips
of bark from the saplings, fastened them together,
thus making a towing-line of sufficient length and
strength, and fastening one end to the raft, with the
other in his hand, he swam round the point of rocks.
Having gained terra firma, he hauled in upon the line,
and thus towed the raft round the point, myself keep-
ing it off the rocks with my pole. We were weary
enough to sleep soundly that night. It must have been
past midnight when we were startled from our slum-
ber by a terrific scream which sounded at no great
distance from us. My first thought in the bewilder-
ment of the moment, was that the house was on fire,
or that robbers had invaded our dwelling. We sat
up, with our eyes wide open, staring at each other,
when again that terrific scream sounded directly over
us, while scream after scream seemed to answer from
every direction around us. An indescribable feeling
of terror crept over me, and if the truth must be told,
my hand was none of the steadiest, as I reached for
my rifle. I did reach for it, and, as I grasped it, made

A DEER LEAP. 46

up my mind to die game. Again sounded that awful
scream, and again was it answered from every point
of the compass, as if all the demons of the woods were
in concert in the horrible din.

" Cuss the owls," said my guide, as he opened his
mouth, in a gape like the entrance of a railroad tunnel,

" Who's afraid," said I, as I stretched out again
upon my bed of boughs for sleep.

Before the sun rose in the morning, we plunged
into the lake for a bath, from the rocky promontory,
from which on the previous day, we started on our
involuntary cruize across the lake. While perform-
ing our ablutions, we noticed a deer, some quarter of
a mile or more from us, feeding along the margin of
the lake. I took my rifle, stole cautiously to within
some twenty rods of him, and resting over a log,
fired. He was standing in the edge of the water, di-
rectly beneath a rocky bank, three or four feet in
height. As my rifle cracked, he leaped at a single
bound upon the bank and then back again, some ten
feet into the water, dead. The ball had gone through
2iis heart, and how he could have made two such des-
perate leaps, when thus fatally wounded) was and Still
is to me, a mystery.

46 HILLS AND LAKES.

After having breakfasted, we fashioned a pair of
rude oars, and contrived to work them on our cata-
maran. We had no disposition to float across the
lake again, and perhaps be becalmed half a mile from
the shore, for hours. However, the wind rising, we
hoisted a sail, by holding a bush erect, with the butt
end in an augur hole in one of the logs. This floated
us across, and from the opposite shore we started on
a coasting voyage round the lake. I sunk my line in
the deep water, and caught another of the large deni*
zens of the lake.

It is a singular fact, that, so far as I could dis-
cover, the trout was the only species of fish in this,
or Eagged Lake. No sunfish, chub, shiner, perch, or
any of the other kinds, so common in the fresh waters
of the country. We thought we could designate,
however, three different kinds of trout. A small
lightish gray one, that seemed to lurk close under the
rocks, where the banks were steep and bluff. These
had a few specks upon them, of a dingy brown, like
freckles on the face of a fair-skinned girl. Near the
mouths of the cold brooks, we found the genuine
speckled trout in great numbers, congregated there as
if to enjoy the coolness of the mountain streams.

INDIAN LAKE. 47

Then, in the deep water in the middle of the lake,
were the lake trout, varying in size from two to eight,
and possibly ten pounds. The ease and readiness
with which all these were taken, robbed the fishing
somewhat of its romance, for a few minutes would
supply us with all we needed, and to destroy more for
the mere sport of taking them, seemed like a wanton
abuse of the good gifts of God.

Near the south end of the lake is a rocky point,
bending round in the shape of a crescent, and forming
within the curve a little bay of deep water, containing
perhaps a quarter of an acre. At the end of this bay,
a stream, not large, but exceedingly cold, empties it-
self. This little bay literally swarmed with the
speckled trout. Standing on a rock a few feet from
the shore, I threw my fly. The moment it struck the
water, a dozen greedy and hungry fish rose to the
surface, and followed in the wake of the one I hooked
towards the shore. The least agitation, like the light-
ing of an insect on the water, would cause them to
rush to the spot; a twig thrown upon the surface
would collect a school of them where it fell. It was
little sport to catch them, but it was a rich thing to
know they were there. I amused myself in cheating

48 HILLS AND LAKES.

the silly things in the way that was fun to me, while
it only subjected them to disappointment, I broke
off the hook from one of my flies, and threw for half
an hour among them. They got no supper to be
sure, but they were very industrious trying for it, and
I have no doubt it was a great mystery to them why
they did not succeed.

Indian Lake is a circular sheet of water, some five
or six miles in circumference. Like all the other
lakes in this wilderness, it has many beauties. All
around is a dense forest of old primeval trees. On
one side, willows and alders skirt the shore, from
which grasses, and rushes, and pond-lilies extend far
into the lake, while on the other bold rocky bluffs
bound the waters, against which, the mimic waves rip-
ple. Occasionally a pebbly beach extends from point
to point, while many little bays nestle quietly behind
jutting promontories.

We coasted the lake on our raft that day, and re-
turned to our shantee in the evening. We supped on
venison and trout, and laid ourselves away on our
bed of boughs.

V.

A TROUT-STREAM. — PARTRIDGES ---THE FlSHER. — NAMING A

A THUNDER-STORM IN THE FOREST. — MEACHAM'S LAKE

IN the morning we started south, towards the
Saranac Lakes. We left our shantee on the shore,
and our catamaran in the water, for any who should
come after us. Let no man who loves dry feet, em-
bark on such a water craft. While the sportsman, so
far as we are concerned, is welcome to it wherever he
may find it, yet we tell him frankly, that unless he
"builds some addition to it, he will find that, while it
carries him safely, it will introduce much moisture to
nis boots.

We had a long journey before us this day, as our
design was to reach Meacham's Lake, some sixteen
miles in the wilderness. Travelling west on a town-
ship line of marked trees for about three miles, we

struck a blind kind of path, running south along an-

3

50 HILLS AND LAKES.

other township line, which we followed until after
twelve o'clock. Our stock of provisions had run low.
Sea biscuit, a little salt pork, some salt, pepper and
tea, was all we had left. Of venison we had none,
and relying upon our daily forage for our daily food,
for the first time found ourselves hungry, without flesh
or fish to allay it. We had crossed no stream for
miles, and regretted that we had not been more provi-
dent of our commissary department, before starting in
the morning. However, this we knew, that a country
built like the one we were in, must ere long furnish
us with a stream, and we knew, too, that we should
find trout, wherever we should find water sufficient
for them to swim in. "We travelled on, until our ears
were gladdened by the sound of a running stream, and
a beautiful stream it was too. It came laughing and
dancing over rocks, frisking around the trunks of
fallen trees, and whirling away under banks, in all the
wantonness of unrestrained freedom. I dropped my
fly quietly by the roots of a tree that had been under-
mined and fallen across the stream, when it was in-
stantly seized, and a trout weighing near a quarter of
a pound, was tumbling upon the bank. Another
and another followed, until enough were caught foi

SHOOTING PARTRIDGES. 51

our dinner. Upon gathering them up, and turning
towards the spot where I had left my guide, I saw him
with my rifle in his hand, walking around, and look-
ing into the branches of a half-grown hemlock, whis-
tling all the time most furiously. Presently I saw him
taking aim at some object in the tree. He fired, and
down tumbled a partridge. He fell to loading again,
all the time whistling most vociferously. Again he
fired, and again a partridge fell from among the
branches.

" Halloa ! old fellow," said I, " that will do. Fish
and fowl will answer for a dinner for hungry men, — •
so leave the rest, if there's more of them there." A
fire was soon struck, and in half an hour we sat down
to a dinner which, with our appetites, an epicure
might well envy.

" Look here, Tucker," said I, while stowing away
a leg of partridge, " tell me why you kept up such a
confounded whistling, while you were looking for
those birds in the tree."

"It was to keep them from flyin' away," he re-
plied. " Off here in the woods, they ain't so shy as
they are down in the settlements ; and when they
take to a tree, so long as you keep up a sharp whis-

52 HILLS AND LAKES.

tlin', a partridge will sit still within fifteen feet of you.
You may shoot half a dozen from the same tree, pro-
vided there's so many there, and you keep on whistlin'."

" That's .something new," said I, " and all I've got
to say about it is, that if they're charmed by such
music, they have a delicate ear and a singular taste."

There are two things that I advise every sports-
man to do, after a hearty meal in the woods, on a hot
summer's day. The first is, to smoke a segar or pipe,
if he has one ; and the other is, to seek some cool
shade, and gather a bed of dry leaves, and spreading
his handkerchief from the rim of his hat,, to keep off
the musquitoes and blackfly, lay himself quietly down
to sleep for an hour. A longer time will debilitate,
and a less time will not rest him. Ten minutes, more
or lass, will make no great difference ; but if called
upon to choose either, let him be sure to decide in
favor of more.

Daving dined, and enjoyed our siesta, we travelled
on. We diverged from our direct route, to visit a
small pond in the south-east corner of the township of
Duane. This pond contains perhaps two hundred
acres, and was without a name, so far as I know. Its
waters are clear, and colder than those of the other

A FISH HAWK. 53

lakes we had visited. A small stream enters from the
north-east, about midway of the length of the lake.
At the mouth of this stream, the water is deep, and a
bay of some four or five rods in width by twenty in
length, puts up. At the head of this bay I threw my
fly. It was instantly seized by a trout weighing near
half a pound. The paths along the banks show that
it was a place of resort for game. There were in
patches, extending from the shore in many places,
grasses and pond-lilies growing in the water ; broken
fragments of the latter, floating upon the surface, gave
evidence that this was a rich pasture for the deer.

As we sat upon the bank, a fish hawk came across
the lake, and alighted upon the branch of a dry tree,
leaning out from the shore, some forty or fifty rods
from us. After pluming himself for a short time, he
soared out over the lake, and pausing in mid air, and
remaining stationary for nearly half a minute, he
dropped suddenly like an arrow upon the water. In
a moment he rose, with a fish of apparently a pound
or more in weight, in his talons, and with his prey
struggling in his grasp, flew away across the lake, and
alighted upon a rock, to devour it.

Having rested ourselves, we were about starting

54 HILLS AND LAKES.

on our journey, when on the opposite side of the
little bay, we saw an animal which though not un-
common in these wild regions, I had not yet seen. It
is called the Fisher. Its weight may be that of a fox.
Its legs are shorter than those of that animal, while
its body and neck are much longer. Its form is like
that of the mink. Its color is a dark brown, ap-
proaching to black. He was moving cautiously along
the margin of the water, stopping, from time to time,
to look around him. As he passed behind a large
boulder, I raised my rifle, and as ' he again emerged
into sight, I fired at and killed him. The head of the
bay was marshy, and my guide, after divesting him-
self of his clothes, plunged into the water to swim
across. He had not calculated upon its coldness, for
as he plunged in, he sighed and blowed like a por-
poise. Being a man of nerve, however, he swam over
and brought the animal to our side of the bay. The
far of the Fisher is fine and valuable. Its skin is
worth from three to five dollars, depending upon the
season of the year in which it is taken. We took
the gentleman's hide as the spoils of war, and to pay
for the trouble of shooting and skinning him. The
death of this animal was the occasion of the christen-

MEACHAM'S LAKE. 55

ing of this sheet of water. We hewed a smooth place
on the side of an ancient birch, and with a knife
carved thereon in large letters, " Fisher's Lake."
Whoever shall hereafter visit it, let him respect the
name we gave it and speak of it accordingly.

We arrived at the margin of Meacham's Lake, an
hour before sunset, wayworn and weary enough. We
found here a shantee, built of poles, and more com-
modious than the temporary ones we had erected.
The roof was covered with bark peeled from the
trees the previous year, but the sun had so dried and
warped it, that it would afford small shelter from the
rain, if a storm should overtake us. From present
appearances, such an event was not unlikely to occur
during the night. The day had been exceedingly
sultry, and a bank of dense dark clouds rested on the
western horizon, behind which the sun was fast sink-
ing. My guide soon peeled from the trees around us,
bark enough to repair the roof, and procured green
boughs for our bed. I found no difficulty in procur-
ing fish. I also shot a brace of partridges, and a small
gray good rabbit ; so that we were supplied with fish,
flesh, and fowl, of the freshest and most delicate kind.

About ten o'clock, the bank of clouds from the

56 HILLS AND LAKES.

west had overspread the heavens. The lightning be-
gan to play most vividly, illuminating both forest and
lake for an instant, with perfect distinctness, and then
leaving all in obscurity, impenetrable as Egyptian
darkness. The deep voice of the thunder, growled
and rumbled, like an earthquake, in the distance.
A low mysterious moaning was heard in the forest
around us, such as always precedes a storm, as if the
old forest trees were whispering together, of the
danger that was approaching. Louder and louder,
grew the voice of the thunder. The lightning flashed
and played along the surface of the lake, lighting it
almost in a continuous blaze. Anon the pattering of
the big drops of rain upon the forest leaves, and upon
the surface of the water, was heard, and in a few
minutes the storm was upon us. The rain poured in
torrents ; the lightnings flashed around us, while the
booming thunders echoed among the mountains. We
were securely sheltered, and there was sublimity in
the warring elements around us. In an hour the
storm moved on. Its roar receded into silence. The
stars looked out in their brightness and the night
voices were again lifted up, as if rejoicing that the
tempest had passed away.

VI.

MORNI15G IN THE WOOD3. — MY GUIDE. — A FlBST VlSIT TO THS

CITY. — A MISTAKE AND ITS CoNSEQTJENCE3.

THE morning was the most beautiful that I ever
witnessed, — so clear, so cool and bright, and such
freshness upon all things. The trees wore a brighter,
greener mantle ; the 'little forest flowers, a richer hue.
The birds sang more joyously, and even the deep
voice of the frog had a note of gaiety in it, that it did
not possess before. The lake was perfectly calm, not
a ripple disturbed its waters, save where the trout
leaped in his gleesomeness above the surface. It was
a glorious sight, the rising of the sun that morning ;
to see him gilding with his beams the tops of the
mountains, while in the valley, where that lake lay
sleeping, the grayness of twilight still lingered ; to see
his light chasing the shadows down the sides of the

mountains ; to see his rays, resting first on the tops of
' 3*

58 HILLS AND LAKES.

the tall forest trees, and then peering through the
opening among the foliage, throwing bright spots upon
the surface of the water, and then, as he rose above
the brave old trees, giving his beams to wanton on the
still bosom of the lake.

My guide had spent some days at this lake, during
the last season, and had constructed a canoe, which
we found where he had left it, hid away among some
bushes that grew near the shore. It required some
caulking before being launched, but by six o'clock we
had breakfasted, and were on the water. This lake
is some six or seven miles in circumference. On the
east of it are high mountains, riot disposed in ranges,
but isolated, — thrown in as it were by handfuls, by
the great Creator. On the south, and stretching per-
haps for miles, is a valley which many years hence,
when the great west shall be filled up, will present
beautiful farms, rich in agricultural products, and
teeming with tame life. It is wild enough now. The
voice of the forest birds, the song of the brook that flows
along through its centre, and the sighing of the wind
among the trees, are the only sounds that are heard.

We pushed from the beach, and paddled leisurely
along the shore, visiting its beautiful bays, and peer-

MY GUIDE. 59

ing into its leafy grottoes, where some lovely estuary
shot landward among the trees.

My guide was a philosopher in his way, as well as
an original. His age was about forty-eight, and his
frame was of that robust, hardy, and enduring kind,
that is found mostly among the border men of
our country. The refinements of society he knew
nothing about. He had spent his life in the back
settlements, and in. the woods. He was a strong-
minded man. by nature, and a, thoughtful one. And
his solitary ramblings, his forest experience, had made
him a reflecting and a wise man in his way.

He had once visited the city, and been followed by
the boys, and pronounced green. He took an antip-
athy to paved streets, the rumbling of carriages, and
the impertinence of loafers, and swears he will never
go within sight or sound of a city again. He de-
scribed to me his journey, and his original way of
telling his adventures amused me. " I had," said he,
" seen all the wonders of the woods ; I had tussled
with the painters, and taken it rough and tumble with
the bears; I had killed the largest catamount, and
skinned the biggest buck of the Shatagee. I had
slept in the woods for months. I had hunted the

60 HILLS AND LAKES.

moose on snow-shoes in the winter, and been eat up
by the black flies and musquitoes in the summer. So,
fifteen years ago last June, I thought I'd take a trip
to Albany, and dispose of my spelter, and see the
sights. I packed up my stuff, and a good lot of it I
had too. I had all I could load in a big skiff, of furs
and skins, and among 'em was more'n one of the
painter and bear. I started from Plattsburgh for
Whitehall, and let me tell you, Squire, that's a long
road on old Champlain, to travel all alone, pullin7 a
big skiff, and when you've tried it, you'll believe its
some. Well, after four days hard pulling I landed at
Whitehall ; there I got my stuff on board of a canal-
boat, and went ahead. At West Troy I hired a canal-
horse and a wagon, and started for Albany. I sold
my stuff at a profit, and then I thought Td take a look
at the sights. So I went gaping about, lookin' in at
the windows of the stores, and staring :at -the queer
signs, and lookin' at the carriages and the women, in
a way that was no doubt uncommon. The boys
got round me, and wanted to know where I was
caught, and whether my mother knew I was out. I
didn't mind this much, for they were too small to get
angry with, and they didn't know any better. Pretty

A FIRST VISIT TO THE CITY. 61

soon a full-grown, ill-lookin' young man thought he'd
take a hand at the sport, and jin'd in with the "boys in
poken' fun at me. He pushed the little ones agin me,
and wanted to know how many cubs like me, the old
bear had at home. I'm a patient man, Squire, but
there's some things I can't stand,' — and bein' laffed at
without occasion, is one of 'em. So I told the young
feller, if he'd mind his business, I'd mind mine, and
that would make it all straight and right between us ;
besides, if he didn't, he'd get into a fix that wouldn't
be pleasant. The chap seemed to have grit in him,
and squared off for a fight, but what it was to be
about, I didn't understand any more'n the man in the
moon. I advised him in a good natered way, to keep
on his own side of the trail, but it didn't do any good.
He seemed to take it for granted I was scared, and
that made him more full of fight than ever. He laid
his hand on the collar of my old huntin' coat, and at
a jerk tore it half off my back. Blood's blood, Squire,
and mine was up. I wan't a baby then, and ain't
now. That handful of bones" (said he, baring his
brawny arm, and doubling his huge fist,) "hain't
often been flung at a human critter, and I hope never
will be again. But when it lighted on that fellow's

62 HILLS AND LAKES.

face, it's my opinion he saw stars. He went over and
over, into the middle of the street, and when he went
down he laid still. He hadn't any fight left in him.
He got on to his feet at last, and staggered like a
drunken man. I was sorry I hit him so hard, bat it's
my opinion he deserved what he got. Presently a
man walked up, and said I was wanted. * Who be
you,' said I. * I'm a constable,' he replied, * and you
must go with me to the Perlice.' ' All right,' said I,
' go ahead ; law is law, and must be gin' in to.' Well,
we went to the office, and I've a notion, Squire, that
Justice of the Peace was an honest man, for he didn't
seem to want to take advantage of me because I didn't
know the ways of the Court. The feller I struck was
there, and sich a face as he carried, was a sight to see.
His nose was swelled up like a great sassenger, and
his eyes had a long way to look, before they could see
outside of the great puff around them. Well, he was
called on to swear, and the way^ he lied agin' me, was
a sin to hear. You'd a believed from what he said,
that the fault was all on my side, and that he was the
innocentest lamb that had ever been worried by a
wolf. I thought it all over with me, when the Squire
asked me what I had to say.

THE COURT OF JUST ICE. 63

"' Squire,' said I, 'I'm a peaceable man, and never
had a quarrel with a human critter but twice be-
fore, and then I couldn't help it. I never struck a
man but once before, and I've been sorry ever since,
I was forced to do it. I'm a stranger to the ways of
the city, and may be I don't act as genteel as I ought
to. I'm a man of the back settlements, and the woods.
I'm an honest man, and came down on an honest
callin', from the Shatagee country. I meddled with,
nobody, and have been as civil as I know how to be.
That lyin' cuss, was for imposin' on, and abusin' me.
He has told a cussed pack of lies, from one eend to
the other, exceptin' a single fact, which I own up to,
because it's true. I did strike him, and I was sorry
that the blow was so hard, but since I've hearn him
swear, I've a notion I sarved him right.' Then I told
him the real truth, in a plain, straight forard way.

" ' Tucker,' said he, for I told him my name, ' I
don't doubt your story myself, for you look and talk
like an honest man, but I can't take your statement
agin' the oath of the witness.'

" ' Squire,' said an honest looking blue eyed boy,
of about twelve year old, that had followed us into
the office, ' that man's story is every word true, for I

64 HILLS AND LAKES,

seed it all myself;' and he stepped up to the book
and was sworn, and told the whole story, true as gos-
pel. ' The case is dismissed,' said the Squire. I
thanked the honest-hearted boy, that didn't like to see
a wrong done, and the Squire thanked him too.
"Well, I harnessed up my old hoss, and started. I
pulled up old Champlain for home, and when I set
my foot in a city again, 'twill be after this. When I
get into the woods I know all about things. I've trav-
elled among 'em, and seen so many wild animals, that
I know their natur'. The still lakes, that lay away off
here all alone, and the streams that steal along round
among the rocks and hills, are like old neighbors ; I
know them all, and I love them. I wonder, Squire,
that more people don't, like you, come out here into
the woods, and see what God made, and as he made it.
Why don't they get into the deep forests, among the
tall trees, the streams, the lakes and mountains, among
the cool shades, to hear how cheerfully the birds sing,
and what nater' says, when she talks to herself."

The stories of my guide were a source of great
amusement to me. He had encountered every variety
of adventure in his long experience in the woods ;
twenty -five years of his life, had been |pent among

ABEAKANDHEECUBS. 65

the lakes and streams, in this wild country, and it
may well be supposed that he had seen and experi-
enced much, the recital of which, to one unused to
such scenes, would afford a vast deal of interest.

" You see," said he, " Squire, that big rock,"
pointing to a boulder on the margin of the lake, about
the size of a haystack. Against it, were piled large
fragments of rocks, and just in the rear of it was a
space that would form a comfortable den for a bear or
a wolf. " Well," said he, " I had a time of it right
there, ten years ago this summer. I'd been out here
huntin', and one day I was paddling along by the
shore, when what should I see friskin' about on the
sand there, just by that rock, but two cubs about as
black as the devil, and the size of a big cat. I knew
the mother wasn't a great way off, and wouldn't take
it kind of me to be medlin' with her babies, but I
wanted them young bars, and made up my mind to
have 'em too. They didn't seem to be at all afraid,
but set up on their bottoms, and looked at me as I
stepped ashore, as impudently as though I warnt
human. • I examined my rifle, and saw 'twas all right,
and seizing one in each hand, tossed them into the
canoe. They set up a terrible cry for such small

66 HILLS AND LAKES.

critters, as I knew they would, and I jumped into the
canoe and shoved off. I pulled their ears, and made
'em cry out again. Presently I heard a crackling and
crashing among the bushes, and a puffing and growl-
ing, and I knew the old she one was coming. I was
eight or ten rods from the shore, and as she came in
sight, I held up one of the cubs and made it sing out.
The old bar saw me, and her baby, and put into the
water after me, for a fight. I let her swim to within
about twenty or thirty feet of the canoe, and picked
up my rifle to settle matters, and pointed it at her and
pulled. The cussed thing snapped. Things began to
look serious just then ; my best chance was to paddle
for it, and Squire, the way I pulled for a few minutes
was great — I gained on the old lady, and had time to
prime my rifle. This time there was no mistake. As
she came within a few yards of me I put a ball
through her skull, and she turned over in the water
dead. I hauled her into the canoe, and pulled back
for- the rock again. I wanted a crack at the father of
the family, if he was about. So I waited until to-
wards night. Occasionally I'd make the young ones
squall, as a kind of notice to the old one, that he was
wanted. Sure enough, just before sundown, in an-

THE BEAR HUNT. 67

swer to the cry of the cubs, down came the old he
one, angry as anything, and full of fight as a mad
dog. I pulled the ears of the little cub, and he cried
out again, and in plunged the old fellow after me. I
settled him too, with a rifle ball, and then pulled
ashore for the night. I knew there were no more
bars there, and the cubs and I, slept very well in the
nest behind the rocks. I did a good thing that trip ;
I got nine dollars apiece for the skins, and twenty dol-
lars for the cubs. They were hungry enough, when
I got home, but they soon got over it, and were gentle
and playful as kittens. I took 'em down to Platts-
burgh, and sold 'em to a man from Montreal."

We landed by the rock, and he pointed out to me,
the place where he had slept with his cubs. It was a
proper place for the lair of bruin, and had we not al-
ready a comfortable dwelling, would have made no
bad resting place for us.

TEE DESERTED HuT. — HUNTING ON THE CRUST. FOREST J0STICB

ADMINISTERED BY A HUNTER. A CAPTIVE AND ITS RELEASE.

FROM the top of this rock, we had a view of the
whole lake — a small pocket telescope brought every-
thing close to me. We saw several deer, feeding
along the margin, in different directions, and some
half a mile down the lake, we saw one swimming

.

across to the opposite shore. We*Maw numerous
broods of wild ducks, sporting in the water, now
diving and again skimming along the surface, in pl&y-
ful gyrations round the careful mother. As we were
watching one of these broods, in a little bay some
fifteen rods from us, we saw them at a signal, which
we heard from the mother, dart suddenly from sight,
among the flags and rushes, while she, too, hastened
to conceal herself. We saw the cause of this alarm,
in a large bald eagle, that came soaring majestically

A SECLUDED BAY. 69

over the lake. This king of birds makes prey of the
waterfowl, and here in the solitudes of -the wilderness,
he is the only enemy they have to encounter. The
price of their security, is unsleeping vigilance, and
were one of these broods to leave the shelter of the
shore, the chances of their return would be none of
the surest. We passed into a little bay, that shot
round and hid. as it were, behind a rocky point, to
prepare dinner. This bay may have contained half
an acre, and was so completely secluded, that without
searching for us, hundreds may have coasted the lake,
without our being discovered.

"We landed, and while my guide was building a
fire, I threw my fly. It was no trouble to procure a
supply of fish. Among these lakes, there is no need
of laying by a supply for the next meal. Build your
fire, and five minutes will suffice to furnish the trout.
We had a venison steak, stowed away among green
boughs at the bottom of our dug-out. We dined
right sumptuously that day, and stretched ourselves
for our siesta. In an hour, we shot out from the little
bay, and paddled on. We caught some small fish
near the shore, and moved towards the centre of the
lake, to see if there were large trout in the deep water.

70 HILLS AND LAKES.

The experiment was successful. I drew tip three
from about sixty feet down, in a few minutes. We
returned to the shore, and passed on in our coasting
voyage. On the north-west bank, we came to a small
cleared spot, where once had stood the hut of a Cana-
dian half-breed, as they are termed. It had rotted
down, many years before, and the rank grass, weeds,
and bushes, occupied the spot, where imagination
pictured his little garden. It was only imagination,
for unless the half of an acre of potatoes and beans,
may be called a garden, he never had one. The half-
breed, that is half French and half Indian, is a deteri-
oration of both branches of the ancestral tree. He
has all the laziness of the Indian, so far as work is
concerned, with none of his industry, ingenuity, and
perseverance in the chase. He lives by fishing, trap-
ping, and basket-making. The muskrat and mink,
and the skins of the deer, taken on the crust, furnish
him with a scanty supply of clothing, groceries, and
breadstuffs. He spends his summers and sometimes
his winters, by these lakes in the deep forest. Three
or four times a year, he shoulders a pack of furs, and
with his wife and children, goes out to the settlements,
to dispose of his wares, and procure such articles as go

A CANADIAN HALF-SHE ED. 71

to make up his absolute necessaries. He encamps on
the borders of civilization, for a few weeks, making
and peddling baskets, and then puts back to his cabin
by the lakes. He has two or three dogs, with which
he drives the deer into the lakes, and catches them
with his canoe in the summer, and with which h0
destroys them on the crust in the winter, a manner of
taking them which every true hunter holds in pro-
found abhorrence. He is a stupid, lazy, shiftless
specimen of humanity, without skill or sagacity in
any department of a woodman's life.

"Squire," said my guide, as we approached the
spot where the cabin of the half-breed once stood,
" the fellow that owned this clearin' has been gone a
great many years, and it was a drubbin7 1 gave him
that scared him away. He was meaner'n pusley, and
the way I made him understand my feelins' in regard
to him, was this : I and old Pete Meigs" (of whom
more hereafter) " had been down by the Saranac
Lakes, beatin' up a moose pen. We got four moose
that time, which is more'n was got at any one time, by
any hunters ever I hearn tell on. Well, we were
travellin' home on our snow-shoes. This pond lay in
our way, and we crossed it down by where our shan-

72 HILLS AND LAKES,

tee now stands. We had a shantee there then, and
we calculated to put up there for the night. There
had been a bit of a thaw, and it had rained the day
before, but the wind chopped round to the north, and
froze everything as tight as beeswax* The crust was
sharp as a knife, and would almost bear a man. We
got to our shantee, and started a fire, when what
should we hear but the dogs of that blasted half-breed,
yelping like death, in pursuit of something. On they
came, right by the shantee, with a big buck close be-
fore them. It had been a tough winter in the woods,
and the poor beast was nothing but skin and bones.
Every leap he took was marked by his blood, as the
sharp crust tore the flesh on his legs. I was mad
enough to see it, I tell you. Well, just by the edge
of the lake, the dogs pulled down and throttled the
poor critter, I knew very well who they belonged to,
and I'd a great mind to give 'em a taste of my rifle ;
but then I remembered 'twas their nater, and they
wan't to blame. So I waited, and when the dogs had.
killed the deer, they sat down beside it, and began to
howl, as if callin' their master to come and finish their
dirty work. Sure enough, in a little while, along
came the cussed half-breed on his snow-shoes, and fell

THE CANADIAN'S EXIT. 73

to skinnin' the deer. lie was a miserable, stunted
critter, too lazy to carry a gun, and wouldn't know
how to use it if he had one. He was hunting the deer
merely for their skins, and was killin' about a dozen a
day on the crust. Everything about them critters is
mongrel. He's a half-breed, and his wife's a half-
breed ; his children, if he has any, are half-breed.
His dogs are half-breed. Whatever he has about him.
is half-and-half. He's only half civilized, and when
he was made up, there was at least one Ingen and one
white man spiled. .

u Well, I took the sueakin' cuss by the neck, and
the way I lathered him with my leather belt, was a
thing to stand out of the way of. He yelled louder'n
his hounds could bay. I gave him a hoist in the stern
with my boot, that sent him about a dozen yards into
a snow drift. 'There,' said I, 'you copper-colored
cross between an Ingin and a French gander, be off
to your shantee, and if your dogs bark again in these
woods this winter, I'll stick you through an air-hole
in the lake. I give you till next June, to get out of
the Shatagee woods. I shall be round these parts,
and if I find you here after that, you're a gone sucker.'
The darned fool was so frightened, that he turned pale

74 HILLS AND LAKES.

as a skewer, and believed every word I said was gos-
pel. I hunted out this way the next season, in July,
and sure enough the half-breed was gone ; wife,
babies, and dogs, all had cut stick, for fear I should
eat him without salt. Old Pete Meigs and I bunked
in his cabin many a trip after that ; but it rotted down
at last, and you see the weeds and bushes have taken
possession of his potatoe patch.

" I've often thought," continued my guide, " that
man is naterally a beast of prey, bent by nater on
fightin' with his fellow man,— -leastwise he is ready to
do so, on slight occasion. Now, I all'ers felt like
pitchin' into a half-breed, or a regular Ingin, when-
ever I met them, — more especially the half-breed ; and
I do believe I could strangle one, on a less occasion
than that of savin' my own life. I was bro't up in a
human way, and was made to believe that fightin' and
quarrelling and especially killin' human things, was
agin nater, and therefore I never harmed any of 'em,
but that one sneakin' cuss. But I all'ers felt 'twould
be human nater to larrup 'em wherever I met 'em, and
'twas only because I'd been taught better, that I didn't
do it. Edication is a great check on the nater of
man. It's that that makes him better'n a half-breed,

CATCHING A FAWN. 75

and better'n a regular Ingin too; and its that that
keeps his hands off of anybody he don't like."

We spent the day in coasting this lake. We found
abundant evidence that it was much frequented by the
deer, in the night season. Indeed, as I stated before,
we saw them even in the day-time feeding along the
margin of the lake. As we rounded a wooded point,
that extended some distance into the lake, we came
upon a doe and two fawns, swimming in a little bay,
into which we suddenly entered. By a vigorous pull
we got between one of them and the shore. Terror
was stronger in the mother than the love for her off-
spring, and she bounded away into the forest, leaving
them to shift for themselves. I said we cut off one of
the fawns from the shore : after various turnings and
windings, we succeeded in catching the little fellow,
and taking him into our canoe. He was horribly
frightened at first, and bleated and struggled desper-
ately to get away ; but after a little, finding itself un-
hurt, and that it could not escape, it seemed to resign
itself to its fate ; its terror abated, and it lay quietly in
my arms. After patting and fondling it. in a soothing
way, I sat it down loose between my feet in the bot*
torn of the canoe. It made no further effort at escape,

76 HILLS AND LAKES.

but looking first up at me, and then at the shore, it
bleated plaintively, as if calling its mother to come
back. It permitted me to pat it gently, and seemed
quieted as I stroked the soft smooth hair on its head.
I verily believe that if I had had the means of feeding
it, I could so have tamed it in an hour, that it would
have followed me like a dog. But to have taken it
away, would have been cruel, as it would only have
starved in our company. We judged it to have been
three or four weeks old, and it was exceedingly fat
and strong. We put it unharmed on the shore, and
when its "feet was on its native heath," it bounded
leisurely away into the forest. We heard it bleat sev-
eral times, and thought at last that we heard a distant
answer, after which all was still.

We procured dry bark and splinters of fatwood,
preparatory to going out among the deer in the night.
I have stated in a previous chapter, the manner of
hunting deer by torch-light. We found them in
abundance along the margin of the lake, but we did
no more than frighten them. We still had a supply of
venison, and after enjoying ourselves at their expense
for a couple of hours, returned to our shantee to sleep.

VIII.

GOING ROUND THE HUDSON. — THE PANTHER AND ITS CUBS. —
FOREST COOKERY.

WE rose before the sun. The morning was calm
and pleasant. A gray mist, thin and transparent,
hung over the lake and crept slowly up the side of
the hill. A loon was pluming himself a few rods
from the shore, and at intervals, lifting up his clarion
voice, that echoed like a bugle among the mountains.
We bathed and breakfasted, and once more embarked
for a cruise round the lake.

" Pete Meigs," said Tucker, as we paddled leisurely
along, " was some in his day. He was an old man in
years, five and twenty year ago, but he was a wood-
. man to the last. He killed a ten pronger, a fortnight
afore he died, and shot him. through the head at
twenty rod. He dried up like a mullen stalk, and
died without the aid of a doctor. I helped to bury

78 HILLS AND LAKES.

him under a great maple, on the banks of the Shata-
gee, and the only land I ever paid for, is four rods
square around his grave, I gave a ten dollar bear
skin for that, and I've told my children to see that the
old maple remains undisturbed, over the old man's
resting place. I buried him seven years ago, and
when the summer conies, I miss my old comrade of
the woods. It's lonesome on the hills now. I miss
the old man's huntin' stories and his knowin' ways.
I can't go alone after the moose in the winter, and
somehow I don't fancy huntin' them with anybody
else. He knowed all about the critters. Huntin'
them came kind a nateral to him, and I used to think
he could smell a moose, as far as the critter could
smell him." "It was curious/' continued he, "how old
Pete and I took to one another, and while he was old
enough to be my grandfather, he always wanted me
along, when he took to the woods. I mind once we
was down the Hudson, below the falls, where they
take people across the river in a boat. We had'nt
sixpence between us, and the ferryman would'nt carry
us over short of a shillin'. We had our rifles, ne\y
ones they were too. Our business down, had been
to buy 'em at Saratoga, and that's what had taken

(jrOING BOUND THE HUDSON. 79

our money. "We had all the fixens, and were put-
ting out for the Shatagee. ' Joe,' said old Pete, to
me, 'let's go round the darned river, and cheat the
blasted Ingen out of his shillin'.' * Agreed,' says I,
and the ferryman grinned when he saw us move up
stream. We started for the sources of the Hudson,
and we went round the river. We were five weeks
r.way up among the Adirondack mountains. That's
a, wild country for you, Squire. If you want to see
mountains piled up, and valleys scooped out, and
lakes, and ponds, and streams, and trout, and deer,
and bear, and a sprinklin' of painters, and catamounts,
do as old Pete Meigs and I did — go round the
Hudson.

" I mind one day we came to an old baldheaded
mountain, standing all alone by itself, liftin' its top
high above the clouds, and defy in' the storms that
beat against its rugged sides. Old Pete proposed, that
he go round it one way, and I the other, and meet
on the opposite side. It warn't like going round a
haystack, 'Squire, you may believe. It was five good
miles around, and a smart chance of breaking your
neck in the bargain, over the loose rocks that had
tumbled, down the side of the mountain. Well, I had

80 HILLS AND LAKES.

travelled for an hour, round the base of the hill, when
I came to the edge of a ravine, across which my way
lay. It was a deep gully worn down by a stream,
when the freshets swelled it into a torrent ; on each
side of it, at the place where I stood, were perpen-
dicular rocks from twenty to sixty feet high. This
made me alter my course, and go either above or be-
low, in order to cross over. As I stood leaning
against a great pine, I heard a growlin' and snarlin'
sort of a noise, and lookin' across the gulf, I saw on
the opposite side, two painters busy in devourin' the
carcass of a deer they had caught. It was, may be,
twenty rods in a straight line, from where I stood, to
the place where they were at work. Now painters
are like cats in their nater, and manner of feedin'.
They had each torn off a limb of the deer, and lay
stretched out on their bellies, eatin' and growlin', not
with anger as it seemed to me, but with satisfaction at
havin' a pleasant breakfast. I drew up by the side
of the old pine, and sighted carefully at the head of
one of the kritters.and pulled away. I made a good
shot that time, for the ball went right through his
brain. He made a convulsive spring, and rolled over,
and over, kickin' and tearin' the earth, till he tumbled

THE "PANTHERS. 81

down the rocks some fifty feet into the gulf be >w.
As I fired, I stepped behind the tree again to load I
warn't an hour loadin' that time, 'Squire, as you y.iay
guess, and I warn't in such a hurry as not to do it
sure, either. "Well, I peaked out from behind my tree,
and there was the other varmint, walkin' and lookin'
around mighty oneasy like. He didn't seem to un-
derstand the matter at all. He hadn't discovered me,
and it seemed as though he was astonished at the
conduct of his mate. He would snuff the ground,
and creep carefully down to the edge of the precipice,
and look over, as if wondering what had possessed
the other to plunge into such an infernal hole. He
was evidently displeased with such conduct. The
hair on his back was up, like that of an angry dog,
and I wasn't sorry that he did'nt see me, and that
there was a gulf between us. After walkin' round, and
lashing himself with his long tail, he set down on his
haunches, and looked towards where I was standing.
His breast was towards me, and I sighted him by the
side of the tree long and sure, and pulled. You
ought to have seen the bound he made, 'Squire. He
was twenty good feet above the brink of the precipice,
and I'm blamed if he didn't clear it, and go over and

•

82 HILLS AND LAKES.

over, down into the gulf, and I heard him strike the
bottom, as plain as I heard the crack of mj own rifle.
" Mj two shots were answered by old Pete Meigs's
rifle, and I fired again as a signal, and waited for the
old man to come round. Presently I heard his halloa
below me, and I went to meet him. He'd hardly be-
lieve my story, but we went up the gulf, and found
my two painters shot dead enough, and their bones
broken by their plunge down the rocks, in the bar-
gain. One of them was a she one, and from appear-
ances was the mother of a family, Old Pete declared
he'd have her whelps. We went round to where I
found them eatin' the deer, and the old man, after
examinin' the signs, as he termed them, started off to-
ward the head of the gulf. "We searched the rest of
that day, but found nothing. "We were satisfied,
however, that we war'nt a great ways from the old
painter's lair, for we found, scattered about, the bones
of deer, and other animals they had devoured. We
camped on the mountains that night, and about day-
light, old Pete started from his bed of boughs, and
cocking his ear for a moment, cried out, ' that's them.'
I listened, and heard a whinin', moanin' sort of a
noise, like a kitten's that's lost its mother. We started

THE PANTHER'S CUBS. 83

off in the direction of the sonnd, and at the head of
the gulf, under a ledge of rocks, we found three young
painters, nestling in a bed of leaves, snug enough.
They were about as large as cats, and plump, and fat,
and hungry as anything. One of 'em we knocked on
the head, and each of us took another, and went
ahead. We fed 'em on fresh meat, and bro't 'em out
safe. We sold them to a menagery man for twenty-
five dollars a piece. They were harmless, playful
things, and one would hardly think they'd grow up to
be such fierce and ugly customers. Old Pete Meigs
and I made fifty dollars a piece that trip round the
Hudson, and had a good time of it too."

On the west side of the lake, some distance below
our shantee, the water was shallow for a few acres.
Here the pond-lilies grew in profusion, covering the
surface with their broad, round leaves, in the midst of
which sparkled, like silver, a thousand beautiful white
flowers. These lily patches furnish rich pasture for
the deer, and we noticed paths leading into the forest,
which were trampled almost like those leading to a
sheepfold. It being towards night, we sat ourselves
quietly down behind a thick clump of bushes, on a
low promontory, to watch for the deer as they should

84 HILLS AND LAKES.

come to the water to feed. We were careful to select
a spot for our hiding-place, so situated that the breeze
would blow towards us, from the direction in which
we supposed they would enter the water to feed.
This is necessary, as the deer will otherwise scent the
hunter a long distance, and keep beyond the reach of
his rifle. We sat silent for perhaps half an hour,
watching, when an old buck walked cautiously from
the forest; and stepped into the edge of the lake.
Here he paused, and looked in every direction about
him, and seeing that all was safe, waded out three or
four rods from the shore, and commenced feeding on
the stems of the pond-lilies. He was within fair range
of my rifle, but we let him feed on. Presently a doe
came down from the woods, in the same cautious man-
ner, and she, too, began to regale upon the rich pas-
ture that the lake afforded. We sat there until four
were quietly feeding, — all in fair sight, and within
range of my rifle. Selecting a small one that, from
where I sat, seemed to be in the best case, I fired and
brought him down. The report of my rifle and the
smoke frightened the others hugely, and with a snort
they leaped from the water, and went crashing and
whistling up the mountains. The old buck didn't

FOREST COOKEBY. 85

seem to understand the matter at all. He was greatly
alarmed, to be sure, but we heard him whistling every
few minutes, and beating the ground with his feet, as
if bounding up and down, some forty or fifty rods
away in the forest, for a long time. He was shut out
from our view, as we were from his, by the dense
foliage between us. At last we heard him bound
away in earnest, and all was still again. Our deer
was a small two year old, and exceedingly fat and
tender. We supped on his sirloin, roasted before the
fire that night, and that with a relish seldom equalled.
The science of roasting a sirloin of venison in the
woods, is not to be despised. One must understand it
to succeed well. Two crotched sticks are set up be-
fore, and at a proper distance from the fire, and from
each other ; across these in the fork, and at the height
of about six feet, is laid another. The venison is sus-
pended from this cross-bar by a string, close enough
to the fire to roast, and is kept constantly turning, so
that all sides get an equal portion of the heat. We
used a pint basin for a dripping-pan, from which, ever
and anon, we basted it with the rich gravy that
dripped from it while roasting. Birch bark, just
peeled from the trees, served for platters and plates

86 HILLS AND LAKES.

when it was done ; and let me say to you, that our
venison tasted to us better that night than though it
had been dealt with in the most artistic style of cook-
ery, and spoiled by a profusion of French condiments.

IX.

THB Loso? CHILD — SHACK.

" WHAT a queer matter it is, Squire," said Tucker,
as lie knocked the ashes from his pipe, after supper,
by tapping the inverted bowl against his left thumb-
nail, " that all living things should stand in fear of a
man. From the fierce painter to the timid hare ; from
the eagle, that looks with a steady eye at the sun, as
he soars beyond sight into the sky, to the sparrow
that chirrups in the hedge ; all flee from the face of a
man, and that, too, though they never saw one of his
kind afore. Some animals, to be sure, when they be-
come better acquainted with him, learn to fear him
less, and live in his neighborhood with less of dread ;
but such animals are his slaves, servin7 him with
patient and slavish fear. Among all the dumb beasts,
the dog alone seems to live on friendly terms with
him. Now, Squire, tell me why it is that all livin'

HILLS AND LAKES.

things, save the dog alone, seems to regard man as
their nateral enemy. The little trout, even, that suns
himself in the ripple, darts away from his presence,
and hides himself under the bank. Is it because he is
always warring against 'em? Killing 'em for his
pleasure, or enslaving 'em for his profit? I all'ers
tho't that the love of unrestrained freedom, was a
nateral element in all livin' things, — strong as life it-
self. The moose scents a man afar off, and hides him-
self away in the deepest recesses of the forest, or the
darkest shadows of the swamps. The painter, unless
made bold by hunger, lays silent and still in his lair
to escape him. The bird takes to his wings, and flies
away from him. Among all the wild or tame ani-
mals, the dog alone seems to regard him as a friend
and protector, and stays willingly by him, as a con-
fidin' and faithful servant, watchin' over his safety,
and lookin' to him for protection. By the way, Squire,
the dog is an animal that a man may take profitable
lessons of. He never deceives his friend and master.
He never ceases to love him ; when all other friends
forsake and flee from him, he stands by him. In
hunger and cold, in sickness and distress, he never
leaves him. All he asks is food, and even that isn't

MY GUIDE'S DOG. 89

made a condition of his servitude or friendship. I
love my dog," said lie, as he put his brawny arm
around his shaggy friend's neck, and drew him to-
wards his bosom, and I could see by the sparkling
eyes of the animal, as he licked his master's face, that
the love was reciprocal.

It may not be amiss to introduce to the reader, the
friend that held so high a place in my guide's regards.
That I have not done so before, is perhaps blam cable.
He started with us into the wood, glad enough, as it
seemed to me, for the privilege of doing so. He was
a large, powerful animal, of no particular breed or
beauty. His coat was shaggy, and of light gray color.
The blood of the terrier, the stag-hound, the New-
foundland, and cur, evidently mingled in his veins ;
and it may well be that the mastiff and stubbornly-
courageous bull -dog might have been reckoned among
his ancestors. He had a large head, and two of the
most active, intelligent eyes that I ever happened
to see belonging to a dumb animal. He had, from
accident or design, been shorn of his tail, excepting
a short stump of about six inches. His ears, too, had
been trimmed, as my guide said, when he was a pup,
to make hii$ look sharp and active. His looks did

90 HILLS AND LAKES.

not belie his character for courage or intelligence.
When we desired it, he went with us, — close at his
master's heels when we travelled, or sitting quietly in
the bow of our canoe, or on our raft, when we floated
on the water. When we did not desire his company,
we left him at our shantee, placing him as a watch-
man over some garment that we would leave in his
charge. Where we thus left him, we were sure to
find him on our return. He would greet us as we
came back, rejoiced to see us, and would say as
plainly as a speechless animal could say, that he had
been a faithful watcher in our absence.

"That dog," resumed my guide, " has knowin' ways,
and I sometimes imagine that he thinks like a man.
That he has strong memory I know, and that he some-
times gets at the meaning of things in a human way,
I do believe. Two years ago this summer, my little
girl went into the edge of the woods one day, to pick
berries. You know our little clearin' is mostly sur-
rounded with woods, and on two sides the forest
stretches away for fifty miles or more. The time for
-her return passed away, and she didn't come back.
Her mother and me became alarmed ; we went all
round the edge of the woods, and called, and called,

THE LOST CHILD. 91

but no answer was returned. Then we knew she was
lost ; and, Squire, you never can know the bitterness
of the thoughts that come into a parent's heart, when
he knows that his little one is away off, lost, all alone,
wandering in the wild woods to starve, and die, or be
torn in pieces, and devoured by the beasts of prey.
My boy was away to the mill, and Shack (the name
of his dog) was with him-. The sun was going
down behind the mountains, and no tidings of our
little one reached us. My wife's heart was broken
with fear for her poor girl ; and although a strong
woman, her nerves were all gone with anguish. I
carried her to the house and left her in charge of my
boy, who had just returned. I shouldered my rifle,
and calling Shack after me, went out to pursue the
search. I called, and called, but could hear no an-
swer. Presently Shack seemed to understand some-
thing of the trouble I was in, and though I never
knew him to leave my heels or disobey me before, he
became terrible uneasy like, starting away every few
minutes, and returning with the greatest reluctance.
Now it never occurred to me that Shack, after all, was
the best searcher for the lost one. I was so troubled,
that I forgot the noble instinct and sagacity of the

92 HILLS AND LAKES.

dog. At last, when I called the name of my girl,
Shack, as if he'd made up his mind, darted away,
and utterly refused to come back. His ways was
strange to me, and I was kind o' scared by his be-
havior. He coursed in a circle, growing wider and
wider, running at the top of his speed, with his head
down, as if in pursuit of something, till I lost sight
and hearing of him, and like my little girl, I was
alone in the forest. The dark night had come on, but
I struggled forward, stumbling at every foot fall in
the darkness, calling every few minutes, my daugh-
ter's name. The echoes of my voice died away into
stilness, or was answered only by the startled cry of
some night bird.

" I sat down to rest, and concluded in my hope-
lessness to wait for the daylight, to pursue the search.
It was a sad, sad thing, Squire, to sit there in the
silent darkness, and know that my little girl too, was
alone in those dark wide woods, shivering with fear,
and calling upon her father to carry her home — see-
ing, in her terror, great round eyes of wild beasts,
glaring upon her from every bush, and hearing their
angry growl in every forest sound. I heard the
solemn hooting of the owl. and his wild scream, and

THE SEARCH* 93

thought what terror it would carry to her little heart.
I heard the dull creaking of some great tree, as it
rubbed against another, and while to me it was a fa-
miliar sound, yet how full of horror it would be to
her ears. She was a timid, tender thing, and I thought
all these sounds, and the darkness wo aid kill her,
I sat there may be an hour, when I heard a crashing
of the brush on the way I had come, and in a moment
Shack bounded up to me. He was panting and
lolling, as if he was just from a long chase, but he
seemed overjoyed and crazy as a loon. He bounded
around me, and jumped upon me, and whined and
barked in a way that I had never seen a dog do be-
fore ; and it seemed out of place that he should be so
merry, when my own heart was so sad. He would
jump upon me, and bound away, and then stop and
look back, as if asking me to follow him. Scolding
did no good, he would not heed it. All at once, light
broke in upon me. He has found my child, I cried,
and is telling me to go to her. I wasn't long in obey-
ing him, you may be sure, Squire ; and when I start-
ed in the direction he indicated, he became at once
quiet, and steady before me, as if satisfied that he was
understood. We had travelled thus what seemed to

94: HILLS AKD LAKES.

me a long distance, when a thougtit seemed to strike
him. He stopped and listened a moment, and then
dashed like a race-horse away, Calling did no good :
he was ought of sight in a moment, and in less than a
minute I lost the sound of his bounds, as he dashed
through the woods. I followed in the direction as
fast as the darkness would permit. It was some fif-
teen minutes, when I again heard him coming at full
speed to meet me. He seemed as joyous as before,
and after jumping and barking for a moment around
me, took his post in front again, and we passed on.
After awhile, I called out my little one's name, and,
Oh I it was a sweet and pleasant answer to my heart,
that came faintly back, ' father, I am here.' Away
bounded Shack again, and you may believe, Squire,
that I wasn't long in following him. A few minutes,
and my little one was in a happy man's arms, safe
from harm, but trembling with the horror of her
night in the dark still woods.

" She had wandered in search of berries, beyond
the sight of our clearing, and when she turned to go
home, became bewildered and lost in the mazes of the
forest. She wandered on until night, and then, in
mortal terror, sat down in the darkness to weep, and,

THE CHILD FOUND. 95

as she thought, to die* Frightened as she was, sleep
weighed down her little eyelids, and she slept. She
was awakened, she said, by something licking her
little bare feet and face, and she started up screaming
in affright, thinking it was a panther or a bear ; but
Shack leaped, and whined, and yelped in his great
gladness around her ; and when she knew it was him,
she felt safe. He stayed by her a few minutes, and
then darted away, and she was alone again, and as
frightened as ever. She dared not call, for fear the
panthers and bears would hear her, and come and tear
her to pieces. She had sat there a long time, when
something stirred among the bushes near her, and she
screamed out in her terror. It must have been that
Shack heard her, as he was guiding me forward at the
time he left me, though the sound didn't reach my
own ear. A few minutes after, Shack was by her side
again, glad enough to find her safe. He soon left her,
and when she heard my voice, she knew he was lead-
ing me to her. We were two good miles in the woods
then, but, Squire, that little girl that I loved so dearly,
that had been lost in them great wide woods, and been
found again, was light as my own heart, as I bore her

96 HILLS AND LAKES.

home, and placed her in the arms of her mother ; and
you needn't wonder that we've loved Shack more'n
ever, since that sorrowful night."

There's a beauty in the deep forest of a moonlight
night, that we of the city but faintly dream of. Our
shantee was on the banks, a few rods from the lake,
with a slope of green between it and the water.
Above us the trees, stretching out their long arms,
formed an arch, through the vacant spaces of which,
the stars peered down, while before us we looked
away over the bright waters, on which the moon-
beams played, as the night-breeze sent the rnimic
waves, rippling in tiny billows, over its bright surface.
Ever and anon was heard the splash of the trout, as
he leaped from the depths, and the deer, as he waded
from the shore, to feed on the aquatic pastures, and
the frog, as he leaped from his rock, and sending forth
a sharp quick note, plunged into the lake, to hide
himself beneath the weeds and water-plants. Beyond
and across the lake, the bare head of a conic mountain
shot skyward, throwing back the moonlight from his
glistening brow, while the night-winds sighed and
moaned among the old forest trees that clustered

SLEEP. 97

around his base. The night was too beautiful almost
for sleep. Yet we laid ourselves down upon our bed
of boughs ; slumber soon stole over us, and we passed
awaj in the land of dreams.

X.

DREAMS. — THE PRAIRIES ON FIRE. — A WOOD-DEMON'S TOROB

DREAMS ! What are dreams ? Why is it that, ^
the silence or stillness of night, when the body lies in-
sensible in the repose of sleep, that strange visions rise
up before us^ and we seem to wander amid scenes that
belong not to the living world, — visions that war with
natural laws, and yet seem, to our senses, consistent
as those of real life ? A new world opens before us,
— a world governed by different laws;; we possess
natures, antagonist to our real ones, and are endowed
with attributes that belong not to humanity. We
take to ourselves wings, and fly like birds through the
air ; we rush unharmed through the deep waters, and
plunge unhurt down profound precipices; we talk
with dumb animals, and hold communion with those
who have long been slumbering in the grave. And

DEEAMS. 99

yet in all this there seems to us at the time, to be no
violation of natural laws, nothing strange or mysteri-
ous. We recall them to our waking memory, and
wonder how it could be, that even in sleep, we did
not detect their impossibility. Why, and how is this ?
Does the spirit leave for a time its prison-house, and
wander, in fact, in a new and real world ? Are the
things we dream of, sober realities, existent as those
we see while in our waking hours ? Are there many
worlds, one within or around another, between which
the spirit and the body vascillate ? When the body
sinks to slumber, does the spirit, in truth, visit other
worlds, participating in their scenes, mingling with
other beings, and holding converse with other intel-
ligences ? Who can tell ?

As I slumbered upon that bed of boughs that
night, strange visions passed before me. I was away
in a new world, and yet all that I saw was familiar ;
nothing seemed strange to me. I was among beings
that I seemed to know ; not men and women, but
rather the spirits of men and women; not as those
that had died, and whose bodies were mouldering
in the grave, — they had form, but not substance ;
shadows that moved and spoke; that seemed formed

100 HILLS AND LAKES.

after the similitude of men and women, but through
whose forms the sunlight passed. I possessed all the
attributes of humanity, save a real, tangible body.
Hands, and limbs, and body, I seemed to possess, —
palpable to the vision, but not to the touch. Hunger*
and cold, and heat, and pain, were things that seemed
to me unknown. Space and time were as nothing. I
passed at once without effort, like thought, from place
to place. We think of scenes far distant from us ;
memory calls up the stream, the lake, the meadow,
the great trees, the cottage, and the garden ; we say
thought wanders away to such scenes. Well, this
seemed to be with me a reality. If I thought of a
scene, a locality, hundreds or thousands of miles
away, at once I was there.

I thought of Eome, of the great St. Peter's, and
there I stood, beneath that gigantic temple. I thought
of the pyramids, and stood at their base, and talked
familiar with the mummies that slept within those
granite piles; I thought of Waterloo, and there I
stood, surveying that mighty conflict. I saw legions
of men, hurled against legions of men. I heard the
roar of the cannon, and the rattle of musketry. I saw
the smoke of battle, wreathing up .from blazing bat-

DREAMS. 101

talions. I saw the flashing of swords, as vast squad-
rons of horsemen mowed down the flying foe. I
heard the groans of the wounded, and the wild shrieks
of the dying. I passed unharmed through the con-
flicting hosts, looking upon the dying and the dead.
Wherever I chose to be, at once I was there. How I
passed I know not, — the fact alona I remember. As
my body was intangible, it was unaffected by the ele-
ments. Fire would not burn it ; water would not
drown it. I could walk on the bottom of the ocean,
with a thousand fathoms of water above me. I could
plunge into the volcano's seething cauldron. Eocks
would not crush me, and precipices, down which I
plunged, were harmless as the level plain. Such a
being was I, and such were those around me. Shad-
ows, mere intellectualities, existing palpably to the
vision, having form and comeliness, but unfettered
and unconfined by a fleshly body. Of such a body,
it seemed to me, I had never heard, save in the wild
theories of some metaphysical dreamer. Its existence
was a subject of derision, and those who upheld its
reality were regarded as idle visionaries, — nay, as pro-
fane rejectors of philosophical truths.

"A change came o'er the spirit of my dream."

102 HILLS AND LAKES.

I was away in the midst of the broad prairies of
the West. They lay there, as they came from the
Creator's hand. The eye of civilization had never be-
fore looked upon them, and no civilized man had set
his foot upon the green grass that vegetated upon
their bosom. All around me were vast plains, — tree-
less and shrubless as a shorn meadow. Away off,
on the one hand, hanging like a blue dim shadow
upon the horizon, was a belt that I knew to be tim-
ber, while on the other, on the very outside boundary
of vision, loomed up the lofty peaks of the Rocky
Mountains, — moveless and fixed, like sentinels of
God, watching the boundless plains beneath them.
The tall grass waved, like vast fields of grain in the
summer winds ; rich flowers of the most gorgeous
hues, sent their wild fragrance abroad on the air,
charming the vision by their glory, and entrancing
the senses by their sweetness. In all this vast plain, I
saw no living thing. All around me was silence ;
vegetation alone seemed to live there, and that grew
and flourished in richest and wildest luxuriance. It
was like a vast garden, planted and nourished by the
hand of nature, unaided, as it was unchecked, by the
ingenuity or the industry of man. Suddenly a blight

THE STAMPEDE. 103

seemed to pass over that vast plain ; the flowers
faded ; the tall grass shrivelled and died ; the leaves
on the rank weeds rolled together, and were blown
away, by hot winds that swept over that ocean of
land ; vegetation withered into a gray and sapless
mass, standing where it grew ; the streams, that were
wont to move in sluggish and tortuous windings, were
dried up, leaving channels like the trails of immense
serpents ; the blight of drought was upon all nature
about me.

As I stood, wrapped in contemplation of the im-
mensity around me, a dull heavy sound fell upon my
ear, like the rumbling of a thousand carriages over
the rough pavements of a far-off city. Turning in the
direction whence the sound seemed to come, I saw in
the distance vast herds of deer and antelopes, flying at
wild speed towards the spot where I stood. Behind
these came an army of elks, their stately horns glanc-
ing and waving in the sunlight, seemed like a forest
of dead, low, barkless trees. Behind these came thun-
dering down again, millions and millions of buffaloes,
making the earth tremble with the weight of their
rushing and countless hosts. For miles and miles, in
width as well as in depth, this vast herd covered the

104 HILLS AND LAKES.

plain, bellowing and roaring in seeming terror at some
terrible destruction behind them. Then came vast
droves of wolves, panting and howling, in immense
numbers, with jaws distended, and tongues lolling out,
like hounds wearied by the chase. None seemed
seeking for prey; a mortal terror was upon all; all
were fleeing, as it seemed for life, towards the belt of
timber land visible in the distance. These vast waves
of animal life swept by me ; the roar of their countless
voices died away, like the tempest in its onward flight.
Then I saw the reason of their mortal terror. Away
in the distance, was a dense line of dark murky smoke,
wreathing and twisting heavenward, wrapping earth
and sky in its sombre folds. On came the fearful
visitation, preceded by a line of fire athwart the whole
of that vast plain, flashing and glancing upward as
new fuel was grasped by its devouring tongue, and it
was hurled onward by the rushing winds. On it
came, crackling and roaring, like a mighty billow of
flame, devouring and overwhelming all things in its
terrible career. Onward and onward it came, with
the speed of the war horse, and the roar of the tor-
nado. Before, it was destruction; in its rear, the
blackness of desolation. Far as the eye could reach,

THE PKAIRIE ON FIRE. 105

on the right hand and on the left, it moved in a line
of fire, leaving no escape save an onward flight. I
stood spell-bound as it approached; that mighty
prairie seemed rolled up, as it swept along, like a vast
scroll, while the impenetrable obscurity behind it was
like the darkness that was of old on the face of the
deep. It approached — it surrounded — it enveloped

me within its folds, when 1 awoke, and behold it

was a dream ! and " yet not all a dream." The fire
we had kindled in front of our shantee, had crept
along the dry leaves until it reached the foot of a dead
fir tree, among whose thick and withered branches, a
wild grape-vine had spread its thousand tendrils.
That too was dead; the fire had crept up the dry
trunk of that dead fir tree, and having reached the net-
work of vines and sapless branches, it burst out into a
brilliant flame. When I started from my sleep it was
flashing and creaking, and swirling upwards, lighting
up forest and lake, like a vast torch in the hand of

some gigantic demon of the woods.

5*

XI.

ST. REGIS LAKE. — THE BALD EAGLE — His HABITS. — A PRIZE.

THE morning broke clear and bright. A bath in
the clear cold waters of the lake, and a breakfast be-
fore sunrise, nerved us for our day's journey towards
the Saranac Lakes, some twenty miles distant. It was
by no means our intention to travel all that distance
in a single day ; that, would be to turn pleasure into
toil. I started from home, with a determination to
take things easy, and though prepared for some labor,
was Toy no means prepared make that labor over se-
vere. As I have before stated, my guide was familiar
with, all this wild region, and there was no danger of
becoming bewildered ; besides, the country is every-
where intersected with streams, and should one be-
come " lost in the woods," it would only be necessary
to follow one of them and he would be sure to come

TKAVELLING. 107

out ere long, at some lake which, he would recognize,
or if not, he would arrive at last, at some settlement,
The way might be longer or shorter, according to cir-
cumstances, but he would find no lack of food, always
supposing that he carried a rifle, and was in possession
of a hook and line.

We followed the course of a stream, which formed
the inlet to Meacham's Lake, for some five or six
miles, until we struck a township line of marked
trees, and then, diverging from our course for near a
mile, came to a neat little lake, covering, perhaps, two
or three hundred acres. Here we bivouacked for the
remainder of the day and night. Having erected our
shantee, we lay down to rest. In an hour we were
up again, refreshed, and ready for such amusement as
the water and woods afforded. Our stock of pro-
visions had become reduced to very simple fare. Sea
biscuit, pepper, salt, and a little tea, constituted our
whole supply. But these, with venison and trout,
and such appetites as a man finds in the woods, an-
swers the purpose of more delicate food to a dainty
taste. We constructed a catamaran of poles, and
during the afternoon, coasted, and crossed the lake.
We found, that like the others we had visited, it

108 HILLS AND LAKES.

abounded in trout — large ones in the deep water, and
the smaller speckled trout, near the shore. The deer,
too, from the paths leading into the forest, seemed to
be plenty, and at sundown I shot a small one, as he
was feeding on the water-lilies near the shore.

In the morning, we passed on to a pond or lake,
six or seven miles distant, and near the centre of the
township. This lake is some three miles in length,
and varying from half a mile to a mile in width. It
bore the same general aspect as the other, surrounded
by old primeval forests, overlooked on one side by
high hills, and skirted on the other by a valley that
stretched away to the east, through which flowed a
noisy brook, literally swarming with small speckled
trout. We dined on sea-biscuit and broiled trout, on
the banks of this pond, and then struck for St. Eegis
Lake, some six miles distant, and on the other side
from us a range of high hills. It was a warm day,
and that six miles was toilsome enough. They cost
us much labor, and not a little perspiration, but by
six o'clock we descended the hills, where at their base,
in the deep shadows of the mountains, lay the lake,
calm and still, and transparent as a mirror. It was a
welcome sight to our eyes, that beautiful lake, sleep-

ST. EEGIS LAKE. 109

ing there, so silent and alone. "We had travelled
some twelve miles that day, over a country rough,
and toilsome at best, but rendered doubly so, by the
tangled brush, the fallen trees, gullies, and broken
rocks, and boulders, which lay in our way. We
erected a shantee, and supped heartily on partridge
and trout. "We retired early that night, and, despite
the sharp sting of musquitos, and their ceaseless
trumpeting, slept soundly and calmly till dawn.

Here again, my guide had, in former years, con-
structed a canoe, which we found, where he had hid it
the previous year, and having caulked, we launched
it on the still surface of the waters. The St. Eegis
may be four or five miles in length, by a half a mile
or more in width, bending around the bluff end of a
hill, somewhat in the shape, though less curved than
a horse-shoe. On the opposite shore the land is more
level, and the shallows reach far out into the lake.
On these shallows, a profusion of grasses and lilies,
and water weeds grow, forming rich pastures for the
deer, and a secure hiding place for the many broods
of wild ducks, that we saw sporting round their care-
ful mother, as she watched with sleepless vigilance
over them.

110 HILLS AND LAKES.

My guide left his pack at the shaiitee, and giving
Shack a hearty meal, ordered him to " watch it."
We started in our little craft to cross the lake. As
we rounded a promontory, some half a mile from our
starting place, we noticed a majestic eagle, perched
upon the dead branch of an ancient hemlock that
leaned out over the lake, a quarter of a mile, perhaps,
distant. These birds, will sit thus for hours, pluming
themselves, or watching in quietness the lake, for some
heedless duck that may trust himself too far from
the shore. We landed quietly, and I started with my
rifle, to endeavor to approach near enough, to bring
him down from his lofty perch. Happily the nature
of the ground aided me in this ; a path worn by the
deer, led round the lake, along which I could move,
without disturbing the bird. I stole cautiously along,
and having approached within range of my rifle,
sighted carefully by the side of a tree, and fired.
The ball struck the outer joint of his wing, and down
came his feathered majesty, flapping and turning over
and over, until he struck the surface of the lake.
Having regained the canoe, we started to secure our
prey. He was, indeed, a noble old bird ; his head
and the feathers of his neck, and of Ms tail, were

THE EAGLE. Ill

white, while the rest of his plumage was of dark
brown, approaching the black. He was" not that
drooping, dingy, rough, and unwashed thing, that we
see in cages, and have pointed out to us, as the great
king of American birds. As we approached, he made
a desperate effort to fly away, failing in which, he faced
us with a look of defiance. There was a wild fierce-
ness, an intensity in his eye, that spoke of the rapacity,
as well as the courage of his nature. As we came
near him, he opened his great beak, and hissed like a
serpent, defiance at us. A blow on the head with a
pole, after a brief struggle, stilled him, and we drew
our noble captive into the boat.

I am not sure that I felt precisely satisfied, for
having slaughtered that princely bird. Me, at least,
he had never harmed. He had slain, only to sustain
his own life, and had killed,, only to supply himself
with food. He was following only the instincts of his
nature ; but was not I, also, following mine ? This
was a question, which I left for settlement, to those
more cunning in casuistry than myself. In the mean-
time I retained his great quills, a few soft feathers of
his plumage, and one of his claws, as trophies, and
left his carcase to float on the scene of his own car-

112 HILLS AND LAKES.

nage. He was like some great human heroes, using
his strength for pillage, and his power only to destroy.
I had, at least, removed one cause of terror, from the
anxious hearts of the mothers of those harmless
broods, that I had seen sporting near the opposite
shore, the destruction of which, my victim was no
doubt watching an opportunity to achieve.

" Squire," said Tucker, as we shot into a little bay,
so shaded and delightfully cool that we could not re-
sist the temptation of making it a resting place, " I've
hearn people call the eagle a noble and magnanimous
bird ; but it ain't so. He's a cussed thief and robber,
as well as a murderer of things weaker than himself;
he's a mean, selfish critter, that takes no pleasure in
being sociable and friendly like ; he's always hunting
for something to devour, and when he gets hold of a
poor duck or rabbit, he flies to some solitary spot, all
alone by himself, and eats it. He never invites any-
body to dinner, and is sure to pick a quarrel with
every bird he meets. I've hear'n tell of the eagle and
his mate ; but I've been about these lakes twenty odd
years, and have seen a many of eagles, but I never
saw two together more'n two or three times, and they
were always quarrellin' and nghtin', till one or the

AN EAGLE COMBAT. 113

other had to give in, and leave. I suppose it must be
that accordin' to nater, they go sometimes in pairs, else
the breed would run out, but I never saw two together
on terms anything like friendly. I mind, once, away
down at Tupper's Lake, old Pete Meigs and I was
layin' off under a grape-vine, that had crept up the
trunk of a great elm, and stretched its slender arms
out all among the branches, and spread its great round
leaves all over them, so that the sun couldn't pass
through, we saw one of them birds settin' on the limb
of a dry tree that leaned out over the lake. Presently
we saw a dark shadow glancing over the water, and
what should it be but another great eagle, making a
stoop at the one settin' on the limb. He missed his
aim, however, and round and round they went, driv-
ing and striking at each other, and screaming like
owls. Once in a while they'd come together in the
air, and, Squire, the way the feathers flew, was a
caution to see. They seemed to grow madder and
madder, till bye and by they had a regular clinch, and
I'm blamed if they did'nt both come down together
plump into the lake. This kind a cooled their fightin'
humor, and they got out as fast as they could. One
went back to his perch on the limb, and we saw blood

114 HILLS AND LAKES.

on the white feathers about his neck. The other
soared away, and we watched him till he became like
a speck in the air, and then lost him in the depth of
the sky. Now, there was room enough for both of
'em there, and prey enough for 'em both, too. But
the one wanted to be alone, and the other would'nt
let him, and so they must have a fight about it.

" But, Squire, I said the eagle was a thief and a
robber; and when I tell what I've seen, you'll say
I'm right. I once saw a fish-hawk over at the Shata-
gee make a dive for a trout, and catch him. He
might have weighed two pounds, and the hawk had
hard work to raise with him from the water. But he
did rise with him, and what was curious to me, seemed
anxious to get as high as he could. He kept strug-
glin' upward, and screamin' in a most uncommon
way, until he'd got up may be four or five hun-
dred feet, when I saw what his trouble was. From
above him, I saw a bald eagle comin' down, like a
streak of chain lightnin', right upon him ; the poor
hawk had no choice but to let go the trout he had
provided for dinner. This was what the eagle was
lookin' for, and swift as a bullet he dropt after the

i, and, Squire, how it could be I can't tell, but

AN EAGLE'S NEST. 115

I'm blamed if he didn't grasp that fish in his great
claws, long before it reached the water, and flew across
the lake to a great rock, and devoured it. Now, I've
no doubt he'd been watching that fish-hawk from his
place, away up in the sky, to rob him of his lawful
spoils. I say, again, the eagle's a robber and a thief,
— usin' his strength to plunder; and I give him a
bullet whenever he comes within range of my rifle.
He's a solitary, and a selfish bird too. I have seen
their nests, and watched to see the old one bring food
for her young; but at such time I never saw the
father of the family. If there was one, he didn't think
much of his home or children, for I never saw him
about. May be he was away preparin' meals for his
wife ; but he didn't stay much about home, that's cer-
tain. I mind once, old Pete Meigs and I was up
among the Adirondack^, about the upper end of Long
Lake, and the hundred other little lakes that lay there
among the mountains. On one side of one of 'em,
that I never heard the name of, is a high mountain,
around the point of which the lake bends, and where
the rocks rise high, away up in an almost a perpen-
dicular precipice, we saw one of their nests. It was
built among the branches of a fir tree, that stretched

116 HILLS AND LAKES.

out from the clefts midway up the rocks, and shot up-
ward towards the sky, like the mast of a tall ship.
Sticks and dry brush had been carried up, forming a
nest larger than a corn basket. We watched for days,
while we were there, and saw the mother bringing
food for her little ones. Sometimes it would be a
duck ; sometimes a wood-rabbit ; and now and then a
fish, that she'd plundered from a hawk. She always
seemed to be busy; but the he one we never saw,
and, in my opinion, he took no charge of the family."

XII.

THE LAW or THE WOODS — Bio CLEAR POND. — A CHASE ATTIB
A DEES. — A MOOSE PATH.

AT evening we returned to our shantee, with a
supply of trout, and a small deer that we had shot.
"We found Shack watching his charge, and mighty
glad he was to see us too. Like us, he relished his
supper that night.

"Tucker," said I, as we sat smoking our pipes
after supper, and listening to the hooting of the owls,
and the song of the whip-poor-will, "do you know
that we have been breaking the law, and incurring a
heavy penalty, by the killing of the deer, upon which
we have been supping?"

" Squire," said he, " I've hearn tell of such a thing,
and suppose it's so, but I never read the law, and
shouldn't regard it much if I had. Not that I believe

118 HILLS AND LAKES.

in disregardin' the law, as a general thing, but this
one don't apply, and warn't ever intended to apply to
the Shatagee Woods. Away off here, among the
lakes and mountains, there's no justice of the peace,
nor constables, nor witnesses either, unless we tell on
one another. And if there was, there's a law above
the statut' book that justifies us — the law of hunger
and of necessity. It is the same law that makes the
eagle pounce upon and devour the harmless duck, — •
that makes the fish -hawk seize his prey, and the
painter destroy the deer, — the law of instinct and self-
preservation. I often think, he continued, "there are
two kinds of laws, differin' as widely in their naters as
light and darkness. The one bindin' everywhere, — in
the forest, as in the settlements ; in the fields, as in the
cities ; to break which would be wrong of itself. The
other, bindin' only to accordin' to circumstances. As
regards the one, the wrong consists in the breakin' of
it, whether the world knows of the breach or not. As
to the other, the sin is in being caught in its violation.
There's one law for the woods, and another for the
settlements ; one for the deep forests, and another for
the city. If I build a shantee of brush on a vacant
lot in a city, and live there with my dog, I'm taken

CITY vs. COUNTEY. 119

up as a vagrant, and sent to the penitentiary. Why ?
Because there's houses enough in a city for all to sleep
in, and it's onnateral to sleep outside of 'em, and the
people think I'm around for no good. But who ever
thought it out of the way of nater, for us away out
here, where there ain't any houses, to sleep in our
shantee in the depths of the Shatagree ? If I find a
loafer in your street, torterin' and abusin' a dum
animal, and I kick him by way of caution, I'm taken
up for 'salt and battery, as it is called. Why ? Not
because the fellow didn't deserve a kickin', nor be-
cause I didn't sarve him right, but because there's
courts, and constables, and law, by which he may be
punished in a regular way. But who would think of
takin' me up, for kickin' that cussed half-breed I told
you of, for slaughtering the poor deer on the crust?
If in the night-time, in the streets of your city, I think
to amuse myself by singing at the top of my voice,
I'm taken to the watch-house, and locked up. Why ?
Because I'm disturbin' the sleep of the people, alarmin'
the timid, shaking the nerves of the sick, and breakin'
the public peace. But if away off here in the deep
forest, alone among the lakes and hills, I choose to
strike up Hail Coluniby, whether to amuse myself, or

120 HILLS AND LAKES.

wake up the sleeping echoes of the mountains, to hear
my voice thrown back by the Adirondacks, who will
say I have broken the peace, or disturbed the quiet
of the people ?

" The truth is, Squire, away off here in the wild
woods, the law you speak of has no force. If I'm
hungry, I've a right to furnish myself with venison.
The law of nater and necessity permits it, and that I
say again, is higher than the statut' book. But I've
no right to steal your rifle, or murder you, even in
the deepest and darkest recesses of the Shatagee.
Why ? Because the law of nater and of conscience,
of the great God himself, as well as of man, forbids it.
And though you might rot where I slew you, and no
man look upon your bones, though I myself should
escape suspicion, yet the guilt would be as deep, and
the wrong as great, as though done in the highways
of the settlements, or the crowded streets of a city.
But killin' a deer here in the woods, that belongs to
nobody, that no one ever before saw, that no live man
can lay any claim to, is another thing, even though
there may be law agin it. It don't go agin my con-
science to break such a law, and I don't care who
knows it. If by killin' a deer when I want steaks for

BIG CLEAR POND. 121

breakfast, or his rump for dinner, I do go agin a printed
statut', I can still look you in the face as an honest man,
because that statut' don't reach the Shatagee woods,
nor the lakes and mountains of the Adirondacks.

" Good," said I; " Tucker, you talk like a Judge,
and without knowing it, have hit upon the legal phi-
losophy of Blackstone."

" I don't know," he replied, " who Blackstone is,
but that's the philosophy and the law of the woods,
as we understand it."

We started next morning for Big Clear Pond, as
it is called, a circular sheet of water, four or five miles
in circumference, and some three miles from St. Eegis
Lake. Our way again lay over a range of hills, cov-
ered with tangled brush, and loose boulders, that
made travel exceedingly toilsome. This range of hills
divides the head waters of the St. Eegis Eiver from
those of the Saranac. The lake is properly named.
Its waters are clear, and one can look away down into
its depths, and see the white pebbles on its gravelly
bottom, twenty or thirty feet beneath him. It is ex-
ceedingly cold too, and if the trout with which it
abounds, are not contented with their home, they are

not capable of appreciating a good thing.

0

122 HILLS AND LAKES.

This lake affords little pasture for the deer. Its
shores are bold, and it produces none of the lilies and
grasses, which so abound in the other lakes we had
visited. We found a canoe here that had been left
adrift, or had been floated away from its hiding place,
It lay upon the beach, as if it had drifted there when
the waters were high, and was left high and dry when
they receded. It was without oars or paddles ; the
latter^ however was soon hewn out by my guide, and
we launched it, for a voyage round the lake. We
spent the balance of the day on this beautiful sheet of
water, and slept in a shantee on its shore. Here, for
the first time, we had no prospect of taking a deer,
from such as should come to the water to feed ; but,
we were not, therefore, to be without venison. I have
before said that Shack had a sprinkling of the Stag
Hound in his veins, and would as a consequence, fol-
low a track — not as staunch, certainly, as one of purer
blood, but sufficiently long to satisfy our purpose here.
So long as he would follow, he kept his game in active
play, and his half hour always made a deer exceed-
ingly busy. My guide stationed me at a point where
a low ridge terminated in the lake, as the place where
the deer would be most likely to take to the water,

LITTLE CLEAR POND* 128

and then started up the valley with the dog to put
him on the trail. I had been waiting, perhaps half an
hour, when I heard the quick, sharp, currish yelp of
Shack, some distance off, on the side of the mountain*
In a few minutes I heard the long bounds of a deer,
as he came crashing through the brush towards the
lake, with the dog some six or eight rods behind him,
barking quick and sharp, at every jump. The deer
leaped into the water, some eight rods from me, and
struck out for the opposite shore. A ball from my
rifle stopped him- — I was soon along side of him with
the canoe, and passing my hunting knife across his
throat, the pure waters around him became crimson
with his blood.

From Big Clear Pond we struck across a ridge
some two miles to Little Clear Pond, a sheet of water
covering perhaps three hundred acres. This little
lakelet, if I may be permitted to coin a word, is a per-
fect gem, laying there all alone, skirted by tall forest
trees, and overlooked by the hills, its waters trans-
parent and cold, undisturbed by a ripple, and reveal-
ing the white pebbles that glisten away down in its
quiet depths. We dined on its banks, beneath a
festoon of vines, that spread out among the branches

124 HILLS AND LAKES,

of an ancient elm. While smoking, after our
we saw a number of gray wood-rabbits hopping about,
cocking up their long ears as they scented our cook-
ery, and bounding away, when they looked upon our
faces. The red squirrels chatted and chased each
other up and down the trees around us, the partridges
drummed on their logs, and the birds regaled us with
their songs. To all this enjoyment there was one
drawback— -the bills of the musquitos were long, and
the sting of the black fly severe* A mink came steal-
ing along the margin of the lake, turning over the
flat stones, and looking for frogs, and small fish along
the shore. He was worth shooting, and I gave him a
shot. My hand was unsteady, or my eye-sight not
clear, and all the harm I did him was to give him a
terrible fright. He wont forget his narrow escape, for
the ball went awfully near his head. He will have
something to tell his neighbors, that will sound apoch-
ryphal in minkdom,

Having viewed this charming little sheet of water
to our satisfaction, we followed what my guide termed
a moose- path, along the outlet, some three miles to
the head of the Upper Saranac. I would not have it
inferred that this path was trodden like a highway, or

A MOOSE PATH.

125

that we saw any spoor of the moose. It was made
when that animal was vastly more abundant than it is
now. It was, however, easily traceable ; the deer and
other animals travelled it, and it saved us much labor
and trouble in guiding us directly to the lake below.

XIII.

UPPER SARANAC — A SONG ON THE WATER.— A WOODMAN'S
NOTION OF THE PAST, THE PRESENT, AND THE FUTURE, OP
AMERICA.

WE struck the Upper Saranac towards sundown.
Here we found a shantee of poles, for whatever hunter
might stray away to that lonely region. We took
possession, and having cleared away the dry branches
used the year before for a bed, and having swept and
garnished the floor, we supplied new boughs on which
to repose, and went out to secure a supper. This, the
water and the air supplied us with, for while I caught
a string of trout in the stream which forms the inlet,
my guide shot a brace of partridges, which Shack
treed for him on a hemlock near the shantee. We
supped as the sun gave his last rays, to glisten on the
brow of the mountains, on the opposite side of the
lake. My guide had hid awav his canoe at some dis-

A SONG ON THE WATER. 127

tance down the lake, and started off to procure it, that
we might take an early start in the morning, on a
voyage down the Saranac. I sat upon a boulder on
the margin of the lake. The sun had gone down,
and the grayness of twilight was fast settling upon all
things ; the stars stole out, one after another, and were
reflected from away down in the bosom of the waters.
The evening was perfectly calm. The lake lay like a
mirror before me. The leaves stood still on the trees,
and all nature seemed sinking into stillness and re-
pose. Anon, the voice of my guide rung out over
the waters in simple song, as he paddled his light
canoe homeward. How it might have sounded in a
concert hall, I will not pretend to say, but it floated
full, and clear, and musical over the waters that night,
and to me it seemed full of sweetness and harmony.
I thought if the Swedish Nightingale had been out
there, on that silent lake that calm evening, giving to
the still air the sweet songs of her northern home, her
voice would have entranced the listener, like the
seraphs' hymns, as they minister in the choirs of
heaven. How I should love to hear it swelling over
the still waters of the Saranac, and dying away in far-
off echoes along its woody shores. But those old for

"'

128 HILLS AND LAKES.

ests will never hear her voice, nor their sleeping
echoes waken to its harmony. Long years hence, the
sweet voice of some other songstress may float over
those slumbering waters, but those old primeval trees
will be gone. Broad meadows, waving grain, and
rich pastures will be there, but these old forests will
have been swept away. The songtress will sit on the
doorsill of her own dwelling, on the margin of that
beautiful lake, her kindred will be around her, and
her song will be a lullaby to her little one that slum-
bers upon her bosom. The wild deer, the moose, the
catamount, and the panther will have disappeared,
tod that they ever existed there, will remain only in
tradition. The iron horse will go thundering among
those sequestered valleys, dragging his ponderous
train, and snorting in the greatness of his strength.

As we sat on that moss-covered boulder, watching
the fire-flies flashing their tiny torches as they floated
over the lake, dotting the shadows of night with spots
of brightness, — gone almost as soon as seen, my guide,
in his quiet way, began one of his curious but modest
discourses, to which it was always a pleasant thing to
listen. "I've often thought," said he, "how strange
it was that this great country of America, equal as

A WOODMAN'S NOTION OF AMERICA. 129

I've been told to one quarter of the earth, and may be
more, should have lain here all alone for so many hun-
dreds and thousands of years, and the people of the
great world know nothing about it. I say the people
of the great world, for I don't reckon the Ingens as
people. There were many, very many tribes scattered
all over, having their own hunting grounds, and livin'
in the woods ; but they were wild like other animals,
and savage as any other beasts of prey. They
couldn't be called people, because, tho' may be they
were human, yet they were wild men and women of
the woods, having no knowledge of human ways, and
no notion of improvin.' They hunted as the painter
and the wolf hunts, only to supply nater, and while
they lived together in tribes, — in that they did no
more than the wolves do, — they lived in huts, and so
did the beaver. I've often thought I'd like to have
seen this great country, when it was all wild and
nateral like ; when from the shores of the old Bay
State to the Mississippi, and from the cold north,
away down to the Gulf of Mexico, the old forest
stretched away, and in all this, not one civilized man
could be found, — before any axe had broken the still-
ness of the woods, — when no city or town, church or

6*

130 HILLS AND LAKES.

farm-house, or green field could be seen; with the
great rivers windin', like gigantic serpents, along the
deep valleys, and the wooded plains, upon whose
majestic waters no ships spread their white sails, or
or steamboats puffed their smoke. I've hearn tell of
the great prairies, that stretch away from the Missis-
sippi to the foot of the Kocky Mountains, that lay
spread out there, like great a meadow, thousands of
miles around 'em, without a fence or a road crossin'
them. Squire, 'twould have been a sight to see those
vast wastes, before the foot of the white man had
crossed the great Father of Waters, as I've hearn it
called, all covered with tall grass, wavin' like an
ocean of grain, and reaching out, away and away,
hundreds of miles beyond where the eagle, in his
highest flight, could see. I should like to have seen
those vast droves of buffalo, fightin', and bellowin',
and pursuin', and hustlin' each other, spreadin' out all
over the plain like a mighty army of horned beasts ;
and then, when some terror seized the herd, how the
earth must have shook beneath the thunderin' hoofs
of their flying hosts. I should like to have been the
first white man that looked upon such a gigantic wil-
derness as this country then was, — to have come up

A HUNTER'S WISH. 13i

the Hudson from its mouth, away down by the sea, —
to have floated upon its waters, as they rolled then so
solitary through the Highlands, and seen the painters
and catamounts watchin' me from the cliffs, and the
deer starin' at me from the level shore, — to have
paddled up old Champlain and down the great St.
Lawrence, and then to have skirted old Ontario, away
up to where Niagara pours its mighty flood, tlmn-
derin' and shakin' the earth, as it rushes down from
the beetling cliffs, — to have coasted Lake Erie, and
the other great seas that lay away out west, — to have
crossed over to the Mississippi, and floated on its
broad bosom back to the ocean ! That would have
been a trip, Squire, worth a lifetime, and a thing for a
man to tell his children of, of a winter's night, when
he was old. I've often thought I'd like to leave the
settlements and highways of life, even now, and stray
tiway off among the solitudes of the Rocky Mountains,
and the vast regions beyond them, and spend a few
years beyond the footprints of a white man. I'd like
to trap the beavers, and skrimmage with the grizzly
bears, and hunt the elk, and foller the other sports
that belong to such a wild and far-off region. Old
Pete Meigs and I often talked of such a tripr— but the

132 HILLS AND LAKES.

old man had the weight of too many years on his
shoulders, and I loved my wife and children too well
to allow of our taking it. You and I, Squire, shan't
see it, but this country is spreadin' and spreadin' out,
and the time will soon be, when a man can go in a
fortnight from the Bay State to the great ocean of the
"West, crossin' the great prairies, and dashing over the
Kocky Mountains, down into the broad valleys be-
yond them, where will be found great cities, rich
farms, and millions of people."

" Why," said I, " Tucker, you're getting poetical.
You've furnished a theme for thought which we had
better improve upon our bed of boughs in the shantee."

In the -morning we started down the Upper Sara-
nac. This lake is the largest in all this region, being
some fourteen or fifteen miles in length, by from one
to three in breadth. In speaking of distances I do
not profess to be precisely correct ; I give the best of
my judgment only, and I have not myself the most
perfect confidence in its accuracy. I am not, there-
fore, to be held responsible for any mistakes that may
occur in my measurements. I judge of the size of
the lakes by my eye, and of the distance from each
other, by the time it took us to travel it. These are

A DOG'S TEAININGL 133

all. my means of knowledge on the subject, and those
who may come after me, must take the risk of my
being mistaken.

About half of a mile or more from the head of
the lake is an island, containing, I should judge,
about one hundred and fifty acres. It was covered
with trees and underbrush, like the forest on the main
land. We landed on this island, and found no diffi-
culty in procuring fish for breakfast.

" Now, Squire, I'll show you one of the knowing
ways of Shack," said my guide, "and some good
sport into the bargain. I educated that dog myself,
for the woods, and so long as he's with me, he ain't to
be beat. You see he don't start off, after everything
he sees, as a green one would do, and as he did, when
I first took him with me into the woods to larn him
his A B C's. He travels along with us, steady and
regular as we go ourselves, doin' what he's bid, and
no more. He listens to what we say, and I'm blamed
if I don't believe he's a notion of the meanin' of my
huntin' stories, when I tell 'em to you. He's an ex-
ample of what trainin' from a kind master, will make
of an honest dog, and what improvement the animal
can attain to." He called his dog, and going a few

134 HILLS AND LAKES.

rods to an elevated spot, waved his hand to him, and
cried, " Hunt 'em up I hunt 'em up ! Be off, sir."
Shack seemed to understand him perfectly, and away
he dashed, coursing here and there, further and further
off, until we lost sight and sound of him in the woods.
In a short time we heard the bark of Shack in pursuit
of something, and in five minutes a buck came dash-
ing round the end of the island where we were, hor-
ribly frightened, with Shack a few rods behind him,
yelping sharp and fierce, at every bound. We did
not choose to spoil the sport by the use of our rifle, so
we cheered on the dog, as he sped by us, and around
they went again like coursers. The island was not
large enough to allow the dog to get out of hearing,
and it was truly an exciting thing, to hear his fierce
sharp cry, and trace by the sound, the rapidity of the
chase. I have stated before, that Shack was not so
staunch and persevering a follower, as a dog of purer
breed would have been, but so long as he would follow,
his pace was tremendous, and the game before him
always had an exceedingly busy time of it. Eound
they came again, that deer and Shack, the former
more frightened, and the latter more fierce, if possible.
The deer had gained a trifle of his pursuer, but the

THE DEER HUNT. 135

pace was evidently telling upon him. His tongue
was out, and we heard his panting as he passed us.
There was no speed lost by lofty bounding, as we
often see in the deer, as he dashes through the forest ;
no looking back over his shoulder, and waiving his
white flag in defiance, as if glorying in the speed of
his flight. But his nose pointed straight out one way,
and his tail the other, as he stretched himself like a
race-horse, in long low bounds, every muscle strained
to escape. Again we cheered on the dog, and away
they went in another heat round the island. Shortly
after the cry of Shack rounded the lower end of the
island, we saw the deer plunge into the water, and
strike out for the main land. Shack, too, plunged
after him in pursuit, but the buck was greatly his su-
perior in swimming, and he soon gave over and re-
turned to the island. We might easily have over-
taken the deer with our canoe, but we had no occasion
for venison, and we let him go. We watched him as
he swam manfully for the shore, leaving a long wake
in the still water behind him. I saw him through my
glass as he waded slowly to the land and steal quietly
into the woods, seemingly wearied enough, but rejoic-
ing in his escape.

XIV.

3- SPORTING EXCURSION. — A FOREST CHASE — THE Music OP THS
HOUNDS. — THE MAN WHO KILLED THE PANTHER AND THE BIG
BUCK.

"We rigged a bush sail and started before a light
breeze, for another and larger island two or three
miles distant.

" The way old Pete Meigs and I came to be
acquainted," said my guide, as we floated down the
lake, " or rather the reason why he took me to his
feelins, was this : — A great many years ago, two gen-
tlemen came from York city to Plattsburgh, to go
over to the Shazee, to fish and hunt. I was about
eighteen years old then, but I'd grown up by the side
of the old man, and though I was a tough specimen
for my age, he seemed to think I was a child still. It
warn't then as it is now. The clearins had'nt pushed
back the woods, as they've since done, and the State

A SPORTING EXCURSION. 137

had'nt built stone houses away up here, to keep bad
men in, from doin' mischief. The place where Clin-
ton Prison stands, was ten good miles outside of a
fence, and a man had to travel fifteen long ones, out-
side of a road or clearin', to get to the Shazee. Those
men from the city, were green enough in our forest
ways, but they wanted to learn, and had the real grit
in 'em, too, only it wanted bringin' out. They'd been
raised in the city, in a human way, and without bein'
spoiled, and did'nt calculate they know'd more, and
were better'n everybody else. I was down at Platts-
burgh when they came there, and hearin' them talk-
in' about a guide, I told 'em of old Pete Meigs. I
knew the old man was home, for I talked with him
on my way, in the morning. They got a team, and I
went with them to old Pete's, and we struck a bar-
gain, he to go with 'em as a guide, and I as a kind of
pack-horse, to carry the provisions, and the other
things needful. I did'nt take my rifle that trip, for
the Yorkers being unused to travelin' in the woods,
old Pete and I, had to tote the fixins. Next morning
bright and early, we started for the Shazee. We had
fifteen long miles afore us, without a path, over high
hills and clown into the deep valleys, crossin' the

138 HILLS AND LAKES.

streams, and stumbling among the tangle brush and
boulders. If the Yorkers war'nt tired enough when
we got to the lake, you may shoot me. "We'd been
all day about that job, and the sight of the waters
laying there so bright and still, was a pleasant thing
to their eyes. We did'nt mind it much, because we
were used to it. With us, a day's work was a day's
work, whether in the woods or in the fields. Old
Pete and I put up a shantee for the Yorkers, and
made them a nice bed of boughs with a smudge before
it, to keep off the musquitos and black flies ; we left
them sleeping sound enough, and started to procure
a mess of trout for supper.

" The old man had drawn his canoe away out of
the water, a month or two before, and hid it away
among the brush. From some accident, — may be the
lightning, the woods had got on fire, and instead of
his canoe, we found only a few charred and useless
chunks. May be the old man didn't swear some, but
t'want no use. The canoe was clean spoilt, and any
amount of swearin' wouldn't mend it. It only cost us
a hard day's work to make another, which, by the
way, we had finished on the next day but one. But
for all the loss of the canoe, we did'nt go without our

THE DEER HOUNDS. 139

supper ; for standin' on the rocks, we got trout enough
in a few minutes ; and when the gentlemen woke up,
we had 'em ready cooked after the ways of a hunter.
The way them trout disappeared from before the York-
ers, was a sight to see. Old Pete had two of the finest
deer hounds I ever happened to see, — especially an
old one that the old man called Eoarer. He was a
great tan-colored animal, with a broad chest, and a
mouth like an oven, with great loose lips hangin'
down from his jaws, and ears like an elephant's. His
voice was like a trumpet, and the way he'd make the
woods ring with his music, was a pleasant thing to
hear. These dogs he had taken with him, to show
the gentlemen what sport was in the Shatagee
country.

" The next morning we were up by the dawn.
Our Yorkers were fresh and fierce for the sights and
fun of the woods. Everything around was new to
'em. The thousand voices that one hears in the for-
est, were things for them to admire and talk about.
We concluded to have a chase the first thing in the
morning, not to run the deer into the lake, for our
canoe was gone, and we couldn't catch 'em there ; so
we started to drive the ridges, as we call it. The old

140 HILLS AND LAKES.

man knew the woods like a book, and could always
tell by the make of a country, where away a deer
would run, when pressed by the dogs. Now, Squire,
a deer has ways of his own, which a man who has
lived among 'em and hunted 'em, can understand.
When pressed, he will take to a ridge, and. follow it
till he's tired, and then he'll take to the water if he
can, to throw off the dogs.

" Well, before the sun was up, we started out
back of the lake, and old Pete stationed the Yorkers
some forty rods apart, on a low ridge that stretched
away from the lake, far into the woods, at a spot
where he knew the deer would be most likely to pass.
Having placed them to suit him, he lent me his rifle,
and took me, may be a quarter of a mile beyond,
and placing me near a great oak at the head of a
broad, shallow ravine, left me to lay on the dogs. He
hadn't no great notion then of my merits, as a hunter,
or as a marksman, and I've allers believed he placed
me there, more to get me out of the way, and keepin'
me from spoilin' sport for the Yorkers, than anything
else, for from what I've learned of the ways of the
animal and the woods since, there warn't much danger
of a deer's comin' near me. 'Now,' said he, 'Joe

THE PAINTEB.

understand, we're here arter deer, and not arter part-
ridges or squirrels, and you're not to spoil sport by
shootin' anything short of a painter or a big buck ;'
and the. old man grinned, as he started off with his
hounds.

" He hadn't been out of sight long, and I'd seen
'twas all right with the rifle, when I heard a scratchin'
like among the branches of the great oak, six or eight
rods from which I was standing* Looking over that
way. Squire, I'm blamed if I didn't see, laying
stretched out along one of the great branches that put
out towards me from the trunk of that old oak, may
be thirty feet from the ground, a great painter, lookin'
with most villainous fierceness straight at me. That
was the first of these varmints that I'd ever seen alive
in the woods, and the way I kind a crept all over,
warn't pleasant. I was standin' by the side of a maple
which was partly between me and the animal, and I
warn't sorry it was so. I don't know as the painter
meant me any harm. It's very likely he'd made up
his mind to let me alone, if I'd let him alone ; but I
didn't like the way he eyed me. I drew up old Pete's
rifle by the side of the tree, and my hand shook some
as I sighted at his head. I wasn't fool enough to fire

142 HILLS AND LAKES,

till my hand was steady, for I knew if I was calm, I
could put a ball between his eyes from where I stood,
and no mistake, I sighted him close and steady at
last, and. pulled. The painter leaped straight towards,
and fell a few yards from me, dead, with his skull
shattered by my ball. ' There,' said I to myself, as I
fell to reloading my rifle, ' old Pete didn't think when
he told me to fire only at a painter, or a big buck,
that that cussed critter was about.' I was a big feelin'
man then, Squire, and about the proudest one in the
Shatagee country.

" I was examinin' the beast, when I heard far off
in the woods, the voice of old Eoarer, deep and
drawn -out-like at first; after a moment I heard it
again. The time between his baying became shorter
and shorter, till the dogs both broke out in a fierce
continuous cry, and I knew the game was up and
away. I needn't tell you, Squire, of the music there
is in the voice of a pair of stag hounds, in the deep
forests of a still morning. How it echoes among the
mountains, and swells over the quiet lake ; how it
comes up like a trumpet from the forest dells, and
glancin' away upward, seems to fill the whole air with
its joyous notes. The dogs took a turn away to the

THE DEER SUN?. 143

westward. The sound of the chase grew fainter and
fainter, as it receded, until it was lost to the ear in the
distance, and the low voice of the morning breeze
whisperin' among the forest leaves, alone was heard.
After a few minutes, I heard, faint and far off, the
music of the chase again, swellin' up in the distance,
and then dyin' away like the sound of a flute in the
distance, when the night air is still. Louder and
more distinct it came, as the dogs coursed over a dis-
tant ridge. I stood, aa I said, at the head of a shal-
low but broad ravine, or rather valley ; to the right
and left, the ridge stretched away like a horse-shoe,
leavin' within its curve a densely- wooded hollow. I
heard the hounds as they crossed this ridge far below
me, loud and joyous, makin' the woods vocal with the
melody of their voices. Again the music died away,
as they plunged into the hollow way before me, until
it seemed to come up like the faint voice of an echo,
from that leafy dell. Again it swelled louder, and
fiercer, as the chase changin' its direction swept up the
valley. Louder and louder grew the music ; I heard
the measured bounds of a deer, as he dashed up the
ridge on which I stood, some forty rods from me, and
wheelin' suddenly from the direction in which he was

144 HILLS AND LAKES.

goin', an enormous buck broke, with the speed of a
race-horse from the thicket of underbrush that had
concealed him, directly towards where I was standin'.
I was ready, and as he came within a few rods of me,
I fired. He leaped high into the air, and fell to the
ground. My huntin' knife was soon passed across his
throat, and his struggles were over. It was a noble
buck. I have been a hunter ever since, and I have
seen few larger than the one I shot that morning.

" In the meantime, the dogs swept by me in full
cry towards where the Yorkers were stationed. It
seemed that two deer had been started by the hounds*
and had ran together, until they struck the ridge on
which I stood, when one had turned suddenly from
his course, and the other fled forward. I heard two
shots in quick succession. In a few minutes the
music of the dogs ceased, and I knew the chase was
over. I passed down to the Yorkers, and found them
rejoicin' over a fine doe they had slain. Both had
fired upon her — the one wounding and the other killin'
her. They supposed she had passed me, and took
it for granted I had missed her. Old Pete came in.
He had heard my first shot, and supposed of course, I
had beea firm' at some triflin' game. The old man

JOE, SAID HE AS HE HELD OUT HIS HAND, SKIN ME IF
YOU HAVEN'T DONE IT. Page 145.

THE DEATH. 145

joined the Yorkers, in laughing at me. * Come,' said
I, as I took him by the arm, * go with me, and I'll
show you what a hunter can do.' We went up to
where the buck lay, and you ought to have seen the
old man's eyes open, as he rolled him over. ' Joe,'
said he, as he held out his hand, ' skin me, if you
haven't done it I've been after that buck for two
years. Why, he's the old one of the Shatagee.' I
led him to where lay the painter, l There,' said I, ' you
told me to kill a painter, and a big buck, and I've
done it.' The old man threw his arms around me,
and from that time, I was to him as a son. Many and
many's the time I've hearn him tell that story, and
been pointed out by him as the man that shot the
painter and the big buck."

7

XV.

TOUOH YARNS — A SHELTEH irf A STORM. — AN ASTONISHED BEAK. —
AN UNINVITED GUEST, AND HIS UNCEREMONIOUS EXPULSION.

" TUCKER," said I, as lie finished his story, " it's
my opinion you sometimes shoot with something be-
sides a rifle, — what we call, in the city, a long bow."

" Squire," he replied, " I won't pretend not to take
your meanin', nor find fault with you for expressin'
it ; but what I tell you I've seen, and done myself,
you may set down as a sure and certain thing. I
don't deny, that down in the settlements, among
fellers that think themselves tall timber, I stretch
matters a little, and make things look a good deal
bigger than the real facts will warrant. I've told 'em
about killin' a buck that weighed four hundred, that
had, may be, fifteen or twenty prongs to a horn ; but
that was always by way of taking the starch out of
fellers that pretended to know the ways of the woods,

A LOKG Bow. 147

and lied out of whole cloth* Let me tell you, Squire,
twenty odd year in the Shatagee country, and among
the Adirondacks, brings a man acquainted with a
good many curious facts to talk about, and he needn't
tell anything but the simple truth, to get up a pretty
tall name for shootin', as you say, with something be-
sides a rule. Between old Pete Meigs and I, we never
stretched the honest truth. Any man that went with
him into the woods, might be sure that, strange as the
story might be the old man told, it was gospel truth*
He was proud of his knowledge of the ways of wild
animals, and the things he'd seen in the woods, and
he was principled agin deceivin' the man that trusted
him. No man ever came back, after a tramp with
him in the forest, that wasn't wiser, and that in solid
truths, than when he started. But in the settlements,
it was another thing* He didn't mind drawing a long
bow there, by way of stuffing the green ones, and the
way he did it was a thing to laugh at.

" I mind once we was down to Plattsburgh, and
stayed all night at a tavern there. In the evenin'
some fellows came in, that had been over to the
Shazee. They'd done pretty well, considerin' they
didn't know much about woodcraft, and the stories

148 HILLS AND

they told were amazin'. They made a set at the old
man, to draw him out. It warn't very difficult to
start hirri) and the way he went ahead was surprisin'.
Knowing the old man's truthfulness in the woods, it
was a new thing to hear him tell such whopping lies
about fishin' and hunting but a sly wink told me they
wan't meant for me, and I knew it was all right, but
such stories, Squire, I never happened to hear before,
1 mind one he told, by way of a wind up, was this:
4 1 was,' said the old man, 'four years ago, away up
among the Saranacs, and had strayed away four or
five miles from my shantee, when there came on the
orfullest storm of rain, and wind, and thunder and
lightnin' that ever mortal man heard tell on, — you
ought to have been up there, boys, to have hearn the
thunder boomin' and roarin' through the heavens, and
peelin' and echoin', and knockin' about among the
Adirondacks,— to have seen the lightnin7 flashin' and
flamin' along the ground, and dartin' down from the
clouds into the tall trees, and smashin' them into a
thousand splinters, — to've hearn the timber crashin'
and thunderin' to the ground, as if all nater was goin'
to ruin in one universal smash. Well, if I warn't
scared that time, you may shoot me. So, lookin'

THE STORM. 149

across a low swampy piece of ground, I saw the great
holler trunk of a sickamore that had fallen, and I put
across, thinkin' I could crawl in there, and be safe
from the rain and fallin' timber. As I struggled
through the swamp, I sunk knee deep into a kind of
clay, white as paint, and my boots were plastered by
it, as if I'd run my legs into a tub of batter. I crawled
away into the log, and let me tell you, boys, it warn't
a bad place to be in just then. I lay there snug
enough for about half an hour, the storm ragin' all the
time harder'n harder, and as I heard it roarin' and
surgin' around me, I made up my mind that a holler
log was a good place in sich a storm. All at once the
hole I came in at was darkened, and something came
gruntin' and squeezin' in towards where I lay. ' ' Human
nater I" tho't I, "what's that?" After a little, I saw
by the light that streamed in, in little streaks by him,
that 'twas a huge bear. I wasn't scared, for I knew
he didn't know I was there, and besides, a bear allers
goes into a holler log backwards, so that the end he
bites with wasn' towards me. I didn't care about
havin' a fight with him just then, and if I killed him
in the log, I didn't exactly see how I was to get out
by him. So I drew up my legs, as he came backin'

150 HILLS AND LAKES.

up towards me, and when he got about near enough,
I straitened out ; and the way I sent my boots agin
his back settlements, was a thing to wonder at. If
ever a dum animal was astonished, I reckon it was
that bear ; and the way he put for daylight, was curi-
ous. As he grunted and hustled towards the outside
of the log, I followed on my elbers and rump, and the
kicks I gave him in the stern, shot him like a cannon
ball, about twenty feet down the banks. " There," said
I, " you darned black, stern goin', round about circum-
stance, be off to your own hum, and let honest
people's houses alone." He didn't stop to make any
answer, nor to ask any questions, but put out at his
best gait for the Shatagee, and it's my opinion he
never know'd what it was that booted him out of that
holler log. He was done with the Saranac lakes, for
he was shot the next day, forty miles away down by
the Lower Shatagee. I know it was the same bear,
for there was the white prints of my clayey boots on
his rump, plain as a pike staff. If you don't believe
it, you may ask Joe Tucker there, (pointin' to me,) for
he's the man that shot him.' I didn't, of course, con-
tradict the story, and the fellers standin around, took
it all for gospel. But rnany's the time I've quizzed

THE WOODS. 151

old Pete Meigs about the bear, whose rump he painted
with his boots, in the holler log."

Our course kept us but a few rods from the shore,
and we could look into the little bays and inlets as
we passed along. There are many lovely spots along
the coast of the Upper Saranac, which, had we not
seen many others in our forest route as lovely, would
have claimed a more careful survey. The beauty of
the scenery around these lakes, to be appreciated, must
be seen. More than that, it must be seen by those
who have a taste for the woods — who love to be
sometimes alone, beyond the hum of the thousand
voices, that are heard in the thoroughfares of life —
the tramp, tramp of moving thousands — to be awav.
among nature's unshorn, as well as unadorned loveli-
ness ; to hear her, unawed by the sights and sounds
of civilization, talking (as my guide termed it) to
herself. They must be men of patience and some
nerve, who are, for the sake of the pleasure, willing
to .submit to some privation, to encounter some weari-
ness, and much discomfort. The student, whose frame
is enervated, by the corrupted and heated atmosphere
of a city, and the debilitating influences of his vocation,
will find himself growing stronger, his frame more

152 HILLS AND LAKES.

vigorous, his step lighter every day, that he breathes
the fresh pure air of the lakes and mountains. Every
drop of sweat, forced from his pores by the weariness
of travel in the woods, will carry off some particle of
disease. He will sleep calmly, and sweetly, on his
bed of boughs at night, and rise in the morning, full
of freshness and strength. His food will be pleasant,
and his digestion good. He will be astonished at the
increase of his powers of consumption, and after a few
weeks of hard work, but full of enjoyment in the
woods, he will come out a better and a wiser man,
"with renewed vigor, and a longer lease of life.

XVI.

SIGNS OP RAIN. — THE TREK FROG. — A RAINY DAT IN THE

THE breeze had now floated us to the second
island. "We shot into a little bay, and remained
for a short time, admiring the scenery around us.
" Squire," said my guide, as we lay in this little bay,
enjoying its cool shades, " it always seems to me that
a man thinks more and better away off in the woods,
among the wild kritters and nateral things, than he
does in the settlements or in the towns. That he
comes to be what you call a philosopher — a sort of
nateral poet — and though he mayn't write verse or
string rhymes, yet there's real poetry in his heart and
in his feelins'. He sees things that sets him a reflect-
in', and makes him inquire into their nater, and it's
thinkin', and inquirin', that makes people wise. Ex-
perience is a great thing everywhere, but a man won't

154 HILLS AND LAKES.

improve much, if lie don't look into the reason of
tMngs that he sees around him. Anybody out here
in the woods, when he builds his shantee, would cover
it with bark so as to shed rain, if he saw a black
cloud in the south-west, and saw the lightnin' play in'
around its edges ; but it takes a 'cute observer to look
into a cloudless sky, and say it will rain afore morn-
ing, or it will be a wet day to-morrow, and have his
sayin' come out true.

"You, now, though you may be a smart lawyer at
home, don't know that we shall want a shelter afore
mornin', and won't leave it until noon to-morrow, un-
less we agree to be out in the rain — but I know it,
and if you wan't to know how I know it, I'll tell you.
Just listen to the tree-frog, how merrily he pipes all
along the shore, up among the branches of the scrub-
by trees that grow out of the rocks ; well, he says,
* it'll rain.' Listen again to the loon — hear, with what
a loud, clear voice he speaks, and how it quavers and
sinks away into silence ; you havn't heard that voice
since we left Indian Lake. That loon says, 'it will
rain.' Hark again, and you'll hear not a rustling among
the leaves and branches of the trees, but a kind of
deep far-off moaning ; not the creaking of one tall tree

SIGNS OF KAIN. 155

against another — a souu.d that don't seem exactly to
be a sound either — a sound that we seem to hear but
can't describe ; you can't tell what way it comes from,
whether from the right hand or left, that seems to be
far off, and yet you can't say it isn't close by ; yet it's
in the forest, all around you. Well, that mysterious
voice says, ( it will rain.' Look at that brood of young
ducks, scampering about, dipping their heads under
the water, and lettin' it run down their backs — see the
old one, how often she sits up on eend, and flaps her
jvings, as if about flyin' away — those ducks are sayin',
plain as day, 'it will rain.' Look at that baswood
tree on the point before you — see how fan-like it lifts
its leaves, turnin' their under side to the sun, makin'
the tree-top shine all over like silver ; that tree is
tellin' us 'it will rain.' Even Shack, there, in the
bow of the canoe, by his uneasy motions, curling him-
eelf up in a heap at the bottom, and then as soon as
he's fairly settled, gettin' onto his feet again, and
nosin' out over the water, he says ' it'll rain.'

" Now, Squire, it's by observin' and puttin' things
together that a woodman comes to understand such
matters. I don't consider such knowledge any great
things, but ft shows that all the larniri' in the world

156 HILLS AND LAKES.

ain't found in books and isn't got in the colleges. A
greenhorn would be just as likely to hunt with the
wind, as against it, and wonder why he didn't get
sight of a deer. I could tell him why ; it's because a
deer can smell a man twenty, and may be forty rod
when he hunts with the wind, and will get out of his
way ; while he who hunts agin the wind, the deer
won't smell him at all, and he knocks him over. You
see how suddenly that brood of young ducks have
disappeared. Well, a man not used to their ways
would say, they hid away because they saw us ; but
when I see that, I look round for a bald eagle, and
he's sure to be soarin', like that one yonder, in the
sky. These things, as I said, ain't much of them-
selves ; but it's such small things that set men to
thinkin', and studyin', and at last rolls up into a heap
of knowledge. It may be, it wouldn't be worth much
to trade on, in the cities; but it's a good thing out
here in the Shatagee, and don't hurt a man anywhere.
I've hearn it said, that a great many years ago, a
man was restin' himself under the shade of an apple
tree, when one of the apples fell to the ground, that it
set him to thinkin' why it should fall down to the
ground, instead of upwards, towards the sky, and that

THE POWER OF THOUGHT. 157

by thinkin', and observing and studyin', he built up a
great system of philosophy that has ever since been
taught in the schools, and given to the world a deal
of knowledge it didn't possess before. It's thinkin'
and studyin' and observing that made the steam en-
gine, and the telegraph, and the locomotive, and rail-
roads, and steamboats, and the spinin' machines, and
iron ploughs, and many other useful contrivances,
that belong to the times we live in. These things
don't concern me much, for my ways ain't like the
ways of most men. I love the woods better'n the
settlements or the cities. I don't need but little to
live on, and I don't want to be rich ; but they help
the world along amazin'ly, and I like to see it. The
Shatagee Woods will last as long as I shall, and I
shall stay among 'em ; but people that don't like the
woods, they help to a livin', and if they want to go
ahead, they can go.

" I mind once, I was over on the Lower Shatagee,
with a man from Montreal. He wasn't a hunter, nor
much given to fishin' ; but he'd a likin' for the woods,
and I paddled him round the lake for a week. He
went knockin' the stones to pieces, and lookin' into
the nater of all the rocks about, and studyin' the

158 HILLS AND LAKES.

flowers, and pressin' them between the leaves of a
great book. He didn't care much about the deer, but
he cracked away with his double barrel, at every
wood-bird he could find. When he got what he
called a specimen, he took off the skin, and stowed it
away, as he said, to be stuffed when he got home.
Well, what I was goin' to tell you is, we was out one
day on the lake ; it was warm, and the sun shone
down clear, and bright, and hardly a breath of air
was stirrin'. On our return to the shantee at noon,
he looked at a machine he had hung up against the
poles, and says he, ' Friend Tucker, there's rain a
brewin', and you'd better mend the roof of your wig-
wam.' I hadn't noticed the signs, and how he came
to know there was going to be a storm, beat me.
Well, I went out, and looked about me, and listened,
and sure enough, there was no mistakin' the appear-
ance of things. Now the machine he looked at, told
him as plain as A B C, what weather was ahead. It's
name I disremember, but you, may be, know all about
it. I allers thought it took a good deal of studyin'
and lookin' into the nater of things, to invent a ma-
chine to foretell a storm."

We shot out from the little bay, and paddled on.

• REPARATIONS FOR KAIN. 159

ij.appiiy a light, pleasant breeze was blowing down
the lake, and holding a bush, with the butt end on the
bottom of the boat, so that the breeze would strike it,
was my part of the labor. In the afternoon a haze
gathered in the air ; a veil, of thinnest gauze, seemed
to be drawn over the heavens ; a halo surrounded the
sun ; the tree-frog sang louder than ever ; the duck-
lings sported more joyously, and all the signs spoken
of by my guide, became more strikingly manifest.
"We landed, between four and five o'clock, on the third
island, and set about constructing a shanty, which
would afford shelter from the rain, which it was now
certain would visit us. We selected a site by the
trunk of a large tree that had fallen. Having pro-
cured two forked saplings, of some three inches in
diameter, we fastened them securely in the ground,
about ten feet from the log, and eight feet from each
other. Across these, in the crotches, we laid a pole,
some five feet from the ground, and then placed an-
other, from each crotch to the log, for rafters ; across
these again, at a distance of two feet from each other,
we laid other poles. My guide peeled bark from the
birch trees around us, with which we made a roof, as
impervious to the rain, as one of tiles. The ends we

160 HILLS AND LAKES.

;

built up with boughs, to keep off the lateral dampness.

Behind the log, we scooped out a rude trench, to
carry off the water that should drip from the eaves
of our dwelling ; thus, in two hours, we had construct-
ed a secure shelter from the rain, let it come when it
might. We gathered large quantities of hemlock and
spruce boughs for bedding, and prepared wood to
keep alive our fire. This was necessary, not for
warmth, but to keep the musquitos and black flies
from devouring us.

Having finished our shantee, my guide, with Shack
at his heels, started towards the interior of the island.
This is the largest island of the Upper Saranac. I
soon heard him ordering Shack to " hunt 'em up," as
I have described. He returned, and we paddled
quietly down the lake, to a point fifty rods below,
where a low ridge terminated in a point, some distance
from the line of the shore. Here we shot close under
the bank, beneath the branches of a gnarled birch,
that grew out almost horizontally from the rocks. It
was half a mile to the main land from where we lay,
and it was the narrowest part of the channel which
divides the island from it.

We had lain here but a few minutes, when we

CATCHING A DEER. 161

heard the bark of Shack, and presently a deer went
crashing through the underwood, a short distance from
us, with Shack in close and hot pursuit. Eound the
island they swept, and we lost the cry of the dog in
the distance. In the course of fifteen minutes, we
heard him again on his return. "We heard the deer
dashing through the brush, with Shack a few rods
behind him. The deer passed us like the wind, and
at the point behind which we lay, plunged into the
lake. We wanted that deer, and giving him a few
rods start, we shot out in pursuit. Before leaving our
shantee, my guide had cut a long slim pole, like a
fishing rod, and withing the end, formed a running
noose, large enough to throw over the head of a deer,
and threw it into the canoe, as we dashed from the
shore. I have before described a chase after a deer in
the water, and will not repeat the description here.
This time, however, we were in earnest. As we ap-
proached the game, my guide threw the noose of the
withe over the animal's head, and pulled him, strug-
gling desperately within reach, drew his hunting knife
across his throat, and in a few minutes his struggles
were over. We hauled him into the canoe, and
paddled back. We found Shack sitting on his

162 HILLS AND LAKES.

haunches, watching us calmly from the point, and he
trotted gaily along the bank, as we floated to our
landing-place by our shantee.

The evening was close and dark, save when the
millions of fire-flies flashed their little torches over
the water. The tree-frogs quavered vociferously all
around us, and the old owl hooted mournfully from
his perch in the dense foliage, as we lay down to
sleep. About two o'clock in the morning I awoke,
and the rain was pattering steadily on the roof of our
shantee, and dripping in big drops from the leaves of
the trees. It was a soothing and pleasant sound, the
steady falling of the rain on our shantee, and among
the dead leases. The tree-frog had ceased his music,
and all the wild forest notes were hushed. I glided
away into slumber again, and slept an hour later in
the morning, than I had done before, since I entered
the woods. My guide was up when I awoke, and busy
preparing breakfast. He had, while I slept, caught
some fine trout, which, with a venison steak, he was
broiling on the coals. The rain was still falling steadily,
— the clouds were sweeping low, and wet and heavy
above us before a steady but slight southern breeze,
and all around us betokened a wet, unpleasant day.

XVII.

A RAINY MORNING. — CLEARING UP A NEW COUNTRY. — A HALT-
BREED AND HIS FAMILY.

WE sat after breakfast, in the morning, under the
shelter of our homely roof, smoking our pipes, and
listening to the small rain pattering upon our covering
of bark, and the big drops rustling among the forest
leaves. " A rainy day isn't a bad thing, Squire, for
you and I here," said Tucker. " It gives us a resting
spell, and shows us the forest in a new dress. We've
worked pretty hard since we started, and want a little
breathing time. To me it ain't much, for I'm used to
it, and a few days travel I don't mind ; but you've
been raised in a city, where people ain't used to such
jaunts as this, and their timbers won't stand, at first,
what mine will. You've stood it bravely, and I'll
own up, that when we started, I thought I'd stretch
your legs for you, in a way that would make you give

164 HILLS AND LAKES.

in ; but I havn't done it, and I ain't sure that I can do
it now. You seem to have a nateral way for the
woods, that ain't common for the city people."

" Why/' said I, « Tucker, though I live in the
city, and have done so for eight years, yet I was raised
in the woods, and brought up in a region almost as
wild as your own Shatagee. I remember the time
when I could be sure of a deer in half an hour, from
the time I left my father's door. I have caught many
a one in a lake with a canoe, as we caught that one
last night, and have, hundreds of times, listened to the
music of my own hounds on the mountains. Bears
and panthers I knew nothing about, because they did
not frequent that part of the country. I remember
when about the Crooked Lake, in old Steuben, was a
dense wilderness, as it is about the Lower Shatagee
now, and my father's log house and clearing, was the
only one for fifteen miles along its shore, — when we
had to go eight miles for a doctor, and seven miles to
a mill. If we wanted to see a neighbor, we had to
travel three miles to do it, and my father's house stood
at the end of the road. I am younger than you are,
Tucker, and when I left that country, eight years ago,
it took a pretty tough, long-legged man, to tire me out

A RAINY MOKNIKG. 165

in the woods. It's a rich farming region now, and
railroads, and plank roads, and turnpikes, cross each
other every few miles."

" Give me your hand, Squire/' he replied ; "I
didn't mean to ask your history, but I'm blamed if I
havn't tho't all along, that you knowed more about
the woods and wild things than can be learned in a
city. I don't wonder that you want to get back, once
in a while, to your old friends, the trees, the lakes, and
the streams, and hear the voices of the things that you
heard in your young days. It makes a man young
again, and brings back the old thoughts and affections
of his boyhood. How curious it is to watch the
growth of a country that's young and wild. I ain't
talkin' now about the nations, nor governments; I
don't pretend to know anything about what larned
people call the wealth of nations ; I ain't speakin'
about the growth of commerce, or the spread of trade,
or the increase of manufactered things ; but I mean a
new country, where the woods stretch out every way,
and are occupied only by wild animals, and may be,
now and then, by a stray hunter, like old Pete Meigs
and me*

" Some bold-hearted Yankee marches into the

166 HILLS AKD LAKES,

woods, with his axe on one shoulder, and his rifle on
the other, and falls to choppin' down the great trees.
Presently there's a spot in the forest that the sun
shines down on, bright and clear. The logs and brush
are burnt up, and a field of grain waves in the summer
winds. After a little, you'll see a log-house, and a
woman sittin' on the door-sill, with a brood of hardy,
tough little ones, tumblin' about her. You'll hear the
blows of an axe, as the settler battles with the tall
forest trees, and you'll hear them through the day,
crashin' and thunderin' to the ground. You'll hear
the bark of a house dog, — the cacklin' of fowls, and
the quackin' of ducks and geese. You'll hear the
ding-dong of a cowbell in the woods, and the tinklin'
of a sheepbell along the fences. These are new sounds
in the forest, and the old woods may know by them,
that their time is come. Away off, may be miles
away, another hardy settler puts up his cabin, and
makes war on the ancient forest trees. Year after
year, the woods are crowded back by the fences, till
settlement meets settlement, and the old primeval
things have passed away. Painted houses have suc-
ceeded the log cabins; flocks and herds, feeding in
rich pastures, are everywhere seen, — the sound of the

CLEARING rjp A NEW COUNTRY. 167

woodman's axe is still, — the crash of the fallin' trees is
no longer heard, — the blazing fallows, sendin' their
dense smoke curlin' and wreathin' to the clouds, are
things that have ceased to be ; for the old woods have
been swept away. The ding-dong of the cowbells has
died away, for the wearers of them no longer wander
in the forest. Stage coaches are rushin' along the
highways, and may be an ingine thunders along a
railroad through the valleys. All these things I've
seen in the Lower Shatagee country. I went out
there last spring, and as I stood on the brow of a high
hill, lookin' away off over what, when I was a boy,
was one great forest, from old Champlain clear away
to the St. Lawrence, — I saw nothin' but great farms,
and fine houses, and abundance of cattle and sheep. I
counted ten carriages on the highways in sight at
once, and I saw the long line of a railroad, stretchin',
like a great snake, across the country, and an ingine,
dashin' like a maddened war-horse, with its long train
of cars, off towards Eouse's Point.

"It's only the rocky, and barren nater of the
country around us, that saves this wild region from
what I call the desolation of civilization, and the
mighty changes it works on the face of a country ;

168 HILLS AKD LAKES.

and I'm glad it's so. There should be left, some broad
sweep of wild woods, where a man can get of the
sight and sounds of the clearin's, and look upon nater,
as it came from the hands of the great Creator, with
all the wild animals, and nateral things that belonged
to it in the times of old."

About eleven o'clock, the clouds began to break
away — the rain gradually ceased, and by noon, blue
spots of clear sky were visible. We struck out across
the lake, to a small island four or five miles distant.
After resting awhile, and coursing a deer with Shack,
twice round the island, we paddled on to the foot of
the lake. Here we hid away our canoe, and travelled
across a low ridge to a small lake, the outlet of which,
with those of two others, formed Stony Brook, one of
the hundred streams that go to make up the upper
portion of the Kacket river. On the banks of this
little lake, we found the hut of a half-breed, who, with
his wife, and two dirty half-clad children, the oldest
six and the youngest two years of age, with as many
shaggy, ill-looking curs, lived a solitary life during
the summer months, away off here, on the banks of
these sequestered waters. As we approached the
cabin, the two curs flew yelping and barking towards

THE HALF-BKEED. 169

us, but the sight of Shack's ivory, as he grinned
threateningly at them, seemed to cool their courage,
and they slunk away to their kennel. The woman
met us at the door, gazing stupidly at us. She under-
stood no English, while her mongrel French and In-
dian was equally unintelligible to us. She was cer-
tainly no beauty, nor yet remarkable for cleanliness
of person, with a face and neck the color of sole
leather, and hair half-combed, tied in a loose knot at
the back of her head. Her husband, if such he was,
we saw in his canoe, near the opposite side of the lake.
Towards sundown he returned. He spoke broken
English, and we understood each other very well.
We slept in his cabin that night ; but let no man be
guilty of so great a folly hereafter. He had a toler-
ably decent bed made of the feathers of ducks and
other wild birds. The sheets were none of the
whitest^ but they were not positively dirty; and I
thought it would be a luxury to sleep in a bed once
more. After bathing in the clear cold waters of the
lake, I undressed while the woman was out, and
turned in, T felt exceedingly comfortable, and soon
fell asleep. Towards morning I awoke, with hun-
dreds of fleas, and bed-bugs fast hold of me, and as

170 HILLS AND LAKES.

many more, travelling in different directions over my
bars flesh. I did not stay long in bed after that. Un-
der pretence of some temporary ailment, I threw on
my clothes, and went down to the lake, thanking
Providence that enough of me was left to bathe in its
pure waters. I hate a bed-bug and a flea, with Un-
mitigated malignity. I do not love a musquito or
black fry ; but they have some decency about them ;
they will eat their fill, and fly away and leave you.
If a bed-bug or flea, would eat and lay down, I could
bear them ; but after feasting upon iny blood, to make
a highway of my body to travel round on, is a thing
I can't stand.

" Squire," said my guide, as he came down to the
margin of the lake where I was sitting, and the rascal
grinned when he said it, " What started you out so
early?"

" Perdition seize the bud-begs and fleas," said I, in
my wrath, at the unclean vermin.

" I've tried that bed," said he, " once, and I wasn't
disposed to quarrel with you, as to who should
sleep in it last night. I'm blamed if I hadn't as
Boon sleep on a hetchel, as between them sheets.
Them cussed bed-bugs and flea^, ain't a common

NIGHT VISITORS. 171

breed. They've longer teeth, and a heavier tread than
is common ; and they love to travel about, more'n
any things of the kind, I ever happened to meet with."

"Then," said I, "you are no true man, Tucker,
and have not taken the care of me, that you promised
you would, when we started. "Why, in the name of
mercy, didn't you tell me of this last night, and save
me from such an infernal crucifixion, as I have under-
gone ?"

" I did think," he replied, " at one time, of tellin'
you to take a club to bed with you, or to put your
huntin' knife under your pillow ; but you seemed to
take to the idea of sleepin' in a bed so, that I thought
may be you'd like it."

" Look here," said I, " Tucker, when you told me
about kicking that half-breed, over at Indian Lake, I
doubted the justice of the thing ; but I am satisfied
you did right. A man who can stand such an array
of vermin, it won't hurt to be kicked. It would be a
pleasant change, from the agony of being devoured
by them, to the luxury of a booting. Confound the
half-breeds and their cabins. They cultivate a bad
breed of bed-bugs and fleas."

XVIII.

BTOHY BROOK. — AMPERSAND CREEK:. — TROUT. — BACKET RIVE ft.— A

FLTIN& SHOT AT A BUCK..

OUR sea-biscuit was exhausted. The half-breed's
wife baked for us a lot of heavy biscuit, and having
purchased his canoe, for all which, we paid him a five
dollar gold piece, which I verily believe was more
money than he ever owned at any one time before,
we started onward again across these lakes, towards
the Kaquet river. They are three in number, con-
taining, each, some three or four square miles, con-
nected by deep narrow channels, of from a few rods
to half a mile in length. Near the foot of the remotest
of these ponds, just above the outlet, enters a small
cold stream, called " Ampersand brook," at the mouth
of which, in the cold water, the trout congregate.
Here we stopped for a short time, to secure a mess for
dinner. We caught what we wanted in a few min-

STONY BROOK. 173

utes, and beautiful fish they were, weighing from a
quarter to three quarters of a pound. We refrained
from killing more than we needed for food, and our
sport, though exciting, was therefore soon over. We
left at the mouth of that little brook, an unknown
number " of the same sort" as those we took, all of
which seemed as eager to be taken, as we were to take
them.

Having thus procured a supply of trout, we started
on down Stony Brook, as the outlet of the lakes is
called, towards the Kaquet river. Though, in a direct
line, the distance does not exceed three miles, we had
to traverse, in the meandering and crooked course of
this sluggish stream, more than twice that distance.
In rounding a point, we saw a fine deer, feeding in a
natural meadow, or little prairie, bare of timber, and
which, in the spring freshets, is overflowed. My rifle
was in the bottom of the boat, and before I could
bring it to bear upon him, he had discovered us, and
as he went bounding away towards the woods, I took
a flying shot at him, and was glad to know that the
extra speed with which he fled from us, was only the
effect of the report of my rifle, and the whistling of
the ball by him. At two o'clock we entered the

174 HILLS AND LAKES.

Kaquet, — one of the most beautiful little rivers in the
world. In this mountain region, one would look for
a rapid, roaring stream, — one that went cascading
down steep declivities, swirling away between beetling
precipices, and plunging down, perpendicular ledges,
in its mad course towards the great deep ; but nothing
would be wider of the truth. For fifteen miles above,
and some fifty below where we entered it, this river,
save in a single locality, flows along with a deep and
steady current, — winding around wooded points, and
stretching in long reaches through an unbroken wil-
derness, the shores lined Avith forests of gigantic
growth, or natural meadows.

The appearance along the shores is that of a coun-
try beautifully level, and were it not for the tall peaks
standing out against the sky, dim and shadowy in the
distance, and the mountain ranges looming up where
a break occurs in the forest, one would think that he
was in a region like the Mississippi valley, rather than
hemmed in by the Adirondacks, and upon the highest
land, the dividing ridge that separates the waters that
flow into the Atlantic through the Hudson, from those
that find their way to the majestic St. Lawrence. This
is a cold, hard region doubtless. Its winters are long,

THE MOOSE. 175

and it may well be for years a desolate and solitary
place, but I selected many a spot where, long years
hence, would be beautiful and productive farms.
Where meadows and green fields would stretch away
from the river towards the hills, and where fine farm-
houses and barns would be seen, and flocks and herds
would be grazing in rich pastures. The interval land
along this beautiful river, will one day be valuable, as
it cannot fail to be productive. The average width of
the river for twenty -five miles above Tupper's Lake,
is some fifteen or twenty rods, and its banks are every-
where lined with a dense forest of gigantic lowland
trees. We saw, every few rods, the paths made by
the deer, as they entered or left the river, in crossing,
and in the soft, tenacious clay at one spot, we saw an
" old track" of the moose. Days had passed since he
crossed, but there was the print of his great hoofs in
the clay, and I examined it with no little interest.
There are but few of these animals left, and they are
infinitely shy and cautious. They seek the deepest
recesses of the woods, the darkest shadows of the
swamp, for their hiding-places, and with an eye that
never sleeps, and an ear open to the softest whisper of
danger, they hold their ceaseless vigils. They have

176 HILLS AND LAKES.

the keenest scent, of all the animals of the woods, and
this, with all their other senses always awake, renders
it almost an impossibility to take one, save in the deep

snows and crusts of winter. They are a wandering

/

animal, too, in the summer season, — having no pecu-
liar abiding-place, and the one that made the track we
saw, may have traversed hundreds of miles since he
set his foot in that soft clay. They are as stupid in
the presence of a blazing light, in the darkness, as
the deer are, and like them, they may be easily ap-
proached with a boat in the night time.

It is some twenty-five miles from the entrance of
Stony Brook into the Kaquet, the point where we
entered the river, to Tupper's Lake. We loitered
along, enjoying the scenery, examining every pleasant
nook, stopping to look at every curious thing that
presented itself to our view, so that the night shadows
gathered around us, before we had performed half the
distance we had calculated upon in the morning. We
landed for the night, and erected our shantee on the
banks of the river, near one of the natural meadows I
have spoken of, and before the sun was in the sky the
next morning, we were on our way again. Some
three or four miles below the shantee, a small but

THE " FLOOD- WOOD." 177

very cold stream enters the river. Just by the mouth
of this, we lay to, to secure a breakfast of trout. We
caught, as fast as we could throw, an abundant supply,
and we stopped. Further down the river still, is what
is known as the " flood- wood," a Eed river raft in
miniature. In a short bend in the stream, where the
water is deep and sluggish, an immense quantity of
trees and old logs, and all manner of driftwood, dams
up the current, piled above the surface in all manner
of shapes, and extending to unknown depths below,
through which the river finds its way as through a
great sieve. Over this " flood- wood," a distance of
some forty or fifty rods, our canoe had to be drawn.
It was six o'clock when we reached Tupper's Lake, of
a calm, warm evening. Our shantee was soon built,
and our smudge going, and before the twilight had
faded into the darkness of night, two weary men
might have been seen out there, on the margin of
Tupper's Lake, in a shantee built of brush, and a
dense smudge near their feet, fast asleep on a bed of
hemlock boughs, with a by no means handsome dog,
as a faithful watcher over them. It is wonderful how
sound and sweet a tired man will sleep on his bed of

boughs, off there, in the clear pure air of the Shatagee

8*

178 HILLS AND LAKES.

"Woods. It is wonderful, too, how fresh he will feel in
the morning, as his eyes open with the break of dawn.
He feels that he has slept enough, and that his weari-
ness is all gone. He feels no lassitude, no desire of
the sluggard for "a little more sleep, a little more
slumber." He starts from his green boughs, gapes,
stretches himself, and is wide awake, and fresh
as the balmy air of the morning. He plunges
into the lake for a refreshing and cleansing bath,
his muscles are strung for action, his nerves all
quiet, and

" Richard is himself again."

We were startled, in the gray twilight of the morn-
ing, by a distant roaring ; not like a waterfall, or far-
off thunder, but partaking of both. We heard it
several times, at short intervals, and were unable to
account for the sound, until, as the light grew more
distinct, we saw vast flocks of wild pigeons, winging
their way in different directions across the lake, but
all appearing to have a common starting-point in the
forest, a mile or more down the lake.

" I understand it all now," said my guide ; " there's
a pigeon roost down there, and, Squire, if you've

A PIGEON BOOST. 179

never seen one, let me tell you it's worth going miles
and miles to see."

I had heard and read, of these brooding places of
the wild pigeon, and was right glad to have an oppor-
tunity of judging of the truth of the statements in re-
gard to them. We paddled down the lake, to a point
opposite to where it seemed to be, and struck into the
woods. We had no difficulty in finding it, for the
thundering sound of those vast flocks, as they started
from their perches, led us on. About half a mile
from the lake we came to the outer edge of the roost.
Hundreds of thousands of pigeons, had flown away
that morning, and yet there were hundreds of thou-
sands, and perhaps many millions, old and young,
there yet. It covered acres and acres — I have no idea
how many, for I did not go round it.

The trees were not of large growth, being mostly
of spruce and stinted birch, hemlock, and elm, but
every one was loaded with nests. In every crotch, on
every branch, that would support one, was a nestful
of young of all sizes, from the little downy thing just
escaped from the shell, to the full-grown one, just
ready to fly away. The ground was covered with
their offal, and the carcasses of the young in every

180 HILLS AND LAKES,

stage of decay. The great limbs of the trees outside
of the brooding place, were broken and hanging down,
being unable to sustain the weight of the thousands
that perched upon them, Evidently the wild animals
had fattened upon the unfledged birdsf that had fallen
from the nests, for we saw hundr'eds of half-devoured
carcasses laying around. The hawks and carrion
birds congregated about. We heard the cawing of the
crows, and the hoarse croaking of the raven in every
direction, and saw them at a distance, devouring the
dead birds on the ground. "We saw dozens of hawks,
and owls, sitting upon the trees around, gorged with
food, that flew lazily away as we approached. Every
few minutes, would be heard the roar of a flock of
the birds, as they started from among the trees.

After examining to our satisfaction, this wonderful
exhibition of the habits, and instincts of this truly
American bird, we took from among the largest of
those in the nests, what would serve for our breakfast
and dinner, and turned to the lake. As we passed
back, we saw, just outside the roost, two gray foxes
stealing away into the thickets. These, and such as
them, were having a good time of it that season,
among the countless hosts of young pigeons.

LAKE. 181

We struck across to an island, some half a mile
from the shore, where we breakfasted upon young
pigeons, broiled upon the coals. They were very fat
and tender, and constituted a pleasant change from
fish and venison, which, if the truth must be told,
were becoming somewhat stale to us. This island
contains from one to two hundred acres. We started
Shack after a deer, which he coursed round the island,
but, having seen that it was a doe, that might have
had a fawn hid away among the bushes, we called off
the dog. She had, however, a sharp heat, for Shack
pushed her mighty hard from the word " go."

Tupper's Lake is the next largest one to the Upper
Saranac, in this region of country. It may covei
possibly as many acres, for it seems to be wider, but
it is not so long, I should judge, by some three miles.
It is impossible to describe to you this beautiful sheet
of water. There are so many objects of interest, so
much that is wild and romantic, so much that the eye
loves to dwell upon, that it must be seen to be appre-
ciated. As you enter the lake from the outlet, a
precipice of solid rock rises on the right to the height
of some fifty or seventy feet, the top of which is level
and bare. Pleasant little bays steal around behind

182 HILLS AND LAKES.

those massive walls, in the cool shadows of which, the
trout congregate.

On the left, a beautiful prairie stretches away,
skirted by tall trees, and as you look upon it, you can
hardly believe that it is not a pleasant meadow, and
you wonder where the farm-house, and all the cattle
are. Directly before you, are several islands, all
covered with evergreens, some high and rocky, others
low and seemingly fertile, while here and there an im-
mense brown boulder rises from the deep water, to
the height of twenty or more feet, on which the eagle
and the fish-hawrk alight to devour their prey. There
is no marsh, no tangled alders and willows, no swamps
around this lake. The shores are all high and bold,
piled up with broken rocks, or with a white sandy
beach between the water and the woods. When you
enter the lake, no signs of human habitation, no evi-
dence of civilization is to be seen, and in our voyage
round it, we found not a single opening in the old
primeval forests. Near the centre of the lake, is a
most picturesque island, which is called The Devil's
Pulpit, from the singular appearance which it presents,
as seen while coming down the lake. This island con-
tains some fifteen or twenty acres. Approached from

THE DEVIL'S PULPIT. 183

the east, it rises gradually from the water, covered
with a luxuriant growth of fir, hemlock, and birch.
It increases in height as you advance, until, at the
west end, it stands out a perpendicular wall of seventy
feet. Not a ledge, arrayed in layers, but a square up
and down solid wall, as if a gigantic boulder had been
sawed asunder, and one-half of it removed. The top
of this great rock is bare and smooth. You can ap-
proach and look over the precipice without danger, so
level and flat is the surface. At the base the water is
said to be some fifty or sixty feet, at least, in depth.
I sounded thirty feet, and found no bottom. On the
top of this rock, an Indian tradition says, the bad
spirit preached to his followers congregated on the ice
below, while a furious snow storm swept over the
lake, and the winds roared and howled above the
frozen waters, and went thundering and crashing
through the old woods on the island, and along the
shore. On the north side, and a short distance from
the pulpit, are great steps, or successive breaks in the
rock, up which he went to deliver his sermon, while
on the other side, is a regular smooth descent, like the
steep roof of a house, worn by the attrition of ages, down
which, it is said, he slid when the service was over.

184 HILLS AND LAKES.

Further towards the west, is a large island, con«
taining perhaps a hundred acres, and there are some
four or five others of equal size, as you approach the
head of the lake. We gave Shack a turn on each of
them with a deer, and he seemed to enjoy the sport
quite as much as we did. He appeared to understand,
from the time we landed on the first island in the
Saranac, what was expected of him, for, though he
never for a moment left us without orders, yet we
would not be five minutes landed, before his uneasi-
ness told us, as plainly as words could have done, that
he was ready, and wanted to take a turn or two round
the island with a deer. Some three miles from the
head of the lake is one of the most beautiful bays of
some fifty acres, that can be imagined. The entrance
to it, is only a few rods in width, and you would sup-
pose, viewing it at a short distance from the shore,
that it was merely an indentation in the banks, so
quietly does it steal around and behind the bluff point
that stretches out into the lake. But on rounding
this point, you find an exquisite little lake, walled in
by low precipices, from which the spruce and birch
trees shoot upwards towards the sky, and along the
base of which, are piled fragments of rocks that have

THE COUNTRY. 185

fallen from above. At the head of this little bay
stands a tall old hemlock, " dead at the top," on which
sat a great eagle, surveying calmly the " waste of
waters," and which, when he saw us, leapt upwards
from his perch, and circling round and round in his
upward flight, then soared proudly away over the
•mountains. We paused a few minutes, by the mouth
of a little stream, that had its origin in an exceeeding-
ly cold spring a few rods from the shore, to throw for
trout. We found them abundant, and very active in
taking the fly. We threw only for experiment, and
having become satisfied, we returned the half dozen
that we caught to the water, and passed out into the
lake. At the head of the lake, Bog river enters. It
is a large stream, though a small river, and comes cas-
cading down from a level plateau, some sixty feet
above the level of the lake. And herein is one of the
singularities of the formation of this region of country.
It seems to consist of a succession of planes or pla-
teaux, rising one above the other, each having its
series of lakes and ponds, the upper discharging their
waters down steep declivities, or short rapids, to the
level next below, and so on from plain to plain, until
the drainage of all, flows off in a broad river towards

186 HILLS AND LAKES.

the great lakes, the majestic St. Lawrence, and the
sea.

Bog river has its origin in a series of ponds, laying
away back towards the base of the Adirondack moun-
tains, flowing for miles in a deep and sluggish current,
then goes roaring down rocky declivities for, say fifty
rods, then settles down to a still, deep stream, passing
onward through other ponds and lakes, and finally
ends its career in Tupper's Lake. For several miles
back from the lake, it moves along with scarcely a
perceptible current, until it arrives at the brink of the
plateau, or plain, — then it rushes down some twenty
feet, not in a perpendicular fall, but over the sides of
a range of solid rock, steep as the roof of our ancient
Dutch houses, plunging in foam into a great stone
basin of near half an acre, then it plunges down a de-
clivity of like character, into a second basin, and then
again over the steep but solid rock, and shoots in a
boiling current far out into the lake. On the sides of
the river, where it enters the lake, are broad flat rocks,
shelving with a gentle descent to the water's edge.
We landed on the left hand side of the river, and I
prepared my fishing tackle, and threw across the cur-
rent, where the river plunged into the lake. The fly

TROUT-FISHING. 187

scarcely touched the water, when it was seized by
a trout weighing over a pound. I had neither landing-
net nor gaft. My rod was a long, elastic one, by no
means calculated to lift a fish of that size from the
water, and I had to play him till drowned or ex-
hausted, so that I could draw him gently upon the
shelving rock.

I took at this place a trout that I have no doubt
would weigh two and a half pounds, and singularly
enough, I " hooked" him, not in the mouth, but
through the back fin, close down to the back. Him I
could not, of course, drown, and the fight we had was
exciting enough. He bent my rod like a reed, in his
mad efforts to escape. He went skimming away
through the water, making my reel buzz again.
Holding him always taught, he would for a moment
seem to surrender, and then as I reeled him in, would
go skiving away with renewed strength to the bottom,
— now floundering on the surface, — now glancing
away across the swift current, diving down towards
the bottom, and again leaping above the water, dart-
ing here and there and everywhere, in his hard strug-
gle for life. Strange as it may seem, the hook held in
the strong cartilage of his back fin, until clean ex-

188 HILLS AND LAKES.

ha usted. I drew him to my feet on the shelving rock,
and secured him after an exciting contest of half an
hour. I was loath enough to leave such rare sport,
but I had already killed trout enough to make me
feel somewhat conscience-stricken ; for I had, to say
the least of it, as many as we could possibly use, con-
sidering the hot and sultry weather.

We built our shantee for the night, on one of the
islands near the head of the lake.

XIX.

A WOODMAN'S SERMON. — His RELIGION OF NATURE. — Hia AROTT

MENT AGAINST INFIDELITY.

THE next day was the Sabbath, and we made it a
day of rest. Solitary as was the forest, and silent, so
far as the church-bells were concerned, yet we felt that
the commandment to respect the day was obligatory
everywhere, in the midst of the wilderness. "We re-
mained by our shantee until near evening, when we
floated out upon the silent waters of the lake, to enjoy
the pleasant breeze that rippled its surface, and look
upon the quiet scenery around it.

" Squire," said my guide, " the forest, in the sum-
mer time, isn't the place to make a man forgetful of
his Maker, and ain't calculated to strengthen the
wicked feelin's of his nater. There's a great many
things preachin7 to him, as he wanders in the woods,
among the wild and nateral things, and though may

190 HILLS AKD LAKES.

be he can't write out the sarmons, nor repeat the texts,
yet he's all the time growin' stronger and stronger ID
his faith, and better in his heart. The tall forest tree
preaches to him. It puts forth its little buds when
the spring time comes, and spreads out its great leaves
in the summer months, that make a cool shade in the
heat of noon. When the frost comes, those great
leaves wither and di s, and the fall winds scatter them
abroad, to make food for new things that grow up in
the wild wocd. The great tre; itself, when decay
seizes upon its trunk, and the earth -WORTHS bur rough
in its roots, drops its branches, and at l&st falls to the
ground. Well, those little buds, and them great
leaves, and the frosts and fall winds that scatter them
abroad, to become aliment for new vegetation, are the
heads of the discourse ; and the great tree itself, when
it falls to the earth to decay and rot, is the admonition
that closes it. It tells him the history of his own life,
and talks to him about his own schemes, and hopes,
and passions, anc~> hi» final destiny at ''.ast. The little
buds tell him of the time T hen he was smart and
young, with his thousaiid childish schemes and boyish
plans. The tree, in its maturity, reminds him of the
vigor, and strength, and pride of manhood, and the

A WOODMAN'S SERMON. 191

falling of the great leaves tell him how plan after
plan and scheme after scheme passes away, and how
one after another of worldly hopes and objects of
affection will fall from around him, and how, when
the winter of age comes, he must fall as the great tree
falls.

" The brook that comes down from the hills,
preaches to him. He looks upon its waters in their
ceaseless flow, onward and onward forever. How it
comes up from the secret spring in the mountain, and
moves forever away to the large stream, and away
still to the great river, and away again until it is lost
in the vast ocean.

" The little fountain that sends forth the tiny
brook, tells him of his infancy. The stream that goes
cascading and leaping down the steep places, laughin*
and chatterin' in its haste, tells him of his boyhood.
The river still pressin' onward, speaks about his
strength and vigor in the strong time of his life, and
the final ending in the great ocean, reminds him of
the grave at last. The waters as they move onward
tell him, that in his course of life there is no stopping-
place. That onward, and onward, is the word.
Hours, days, months, and years, steal away ; time

192 HILLS AND LAKES.

flows, and flows on with him, like the runnin' waters,
and like them he must be lost at last in the great
ocean of eternity. The squirrel preaches to him ; he
sees the little animal gatherin' his store of nuts, work-
in' with cheerfulness in the summer, to provide against
the barrenness of the winter months. That little sense-
less thing that follows only a blind instinct, tells him
that there is a great winter in the far-off future, and
the summer is the time to provide for its coming.
That the idle shall starve in its dreariness, and the
profligate perish under its pressure. The birds in
their joyous songs among the branches of the tall
trees, preach to him. They tell him to go cheerfully
on his way of life, in thankfulness to Him, who scat-
ters so many blessings on the trail that he follows,
They say to him, that He is a kind and beneficent
God, who made them so joyful and happy, and gave
them food, and cool shades, and the branches, among
which they could sport, and build their nests, and
gave them glad voices to carol in praise of Him who
provided them with all these. Even the tall moun-
tain, rearing its bare head to the clouds, defyin* the
storm and the tempest, has its sermon. It tells him
of the might and majesty, and the fixedness of the

His KELIGION OF NATUEE. 193

purposes of the great God. It is a sign of his strength
and power. Who would not stand in awe of Him,
who piled up those massive ledges of impenetrable
rocks, and bid them stand there immovable forever ?

" I ain't a wise man, Squire^ and may be not what
the world would call orthodox in my faith ; but if I'd
never seen a church, nor a bible, nor a preacher, my
belief in the existence of a great and a good God,
would have been as fixed and fast as it now is that I
exist. "When I see the seed that is planted in the
ground, bring forth grain, — the nut that falls to the
earth, sprout up into a tall tree, — when I see that the
animals that live in the water, and on the dry land,
and the birds that fly in the air, all are fitted for the
elements in which they move, — when I see the tree
blossom, and bring forth its fruit, — the sun, and the
moon, movin' in their regular course in the heavens,
and the stars shinin' like candles in the sky at night, I
say to myself, all these things never happened by
chance. There's a God that made them all. That He
is wise I know, because there is no confusion, or jost-
lin' among the millions of created things, that he has
peopled the world with. That he is benevolent I

know, for he has made provision for the happiness,

9

194 HILLS AND LAKES.

and enjoyment of every creature that came from hig
hand.

" That there's a life beyond this life I believe, be-
cause the Bible says so, and because, to my understand*
in', nater everywhere says so, I see the brook always
runnin' on, yet never wasted. I see the seasons come
and go, the trees blossornin' and renewin' their green
coats every year, and know that they always have,
from the beginnin' of time. I see and know, that
nothing in all the world perishes utterly.- I see all
this, and I say to myself, the spirit of a man never
perishes — it must be indestructible as the things that
go to make up his body.- I see, too, man standin' at
the head of all created things. The earth, the air, and
the water, and the things that belong to them, all
made subject to his will, and provided for his use. I
look upon the sun, and the moon, and the stars, all
iigntm' his path, and all the mighty universe spread
out above and around him, and I say to myself, it
can't be that all this was made, that man might just
look upon and admire them — feel for a little time
their benefits, and then lay down and perish utterly.
It can't be so ; there must be something above and be-
yond this life, and the spirit of a man must survive for

OPPOSED TO INFIDELITY. 195

good or for evil, the body that goes back to the earth.
I don't care how larned a man may be ; he may talk
wisely, and knowingl}-, about the sciences, he may
confound me by a thousand things I don't and can't un-
derstand, but when he denies the existence of a great
Power that created the sun, moon and stars, the earth
and the countless hosts of things that swarm upon its
surface, and swim in its waters, who denies the exist-
ence of a soul, and of an hereafter, who says there is no
Heaven, and that the grave is the final end, I set him
down as one who has something wrong in his upper
works. He ain't a wise man. He don't reason like a
sensible man, and I'm agin him.

" I mind once, I was out for a good many days, in
the woods, with such an infidel man from Boston. He
had all the signs of a gentleman about him, and didn't
seem to have any ill will agin any living thing, yet as
sure as I'm in this boat, I was afraid of him. To hear
him talk, made me kind 'er creep all over. He seemed
to take pleasure in denyin', and lafnn at the idea of
there being any great Creator, or any soul, or and
eternity. I felt scary in his company, and many's the
time I've got him, under one pretence or another, to
go before me, for fear he'd take a notion to shoot

196 HILLS AND L

me ; and the last three or four nights we stayed in the
woods, I didn't close an eye till I saw he was fast
asleep. He could out4alk me, and outreason me ;
but he didn't shake my faith. I mind one day he was
sittin' on the bank of a little stream that came laffin
along down from the hills, and he was tellin' how
everything came by chance, and I asked him what
made that little stream run down into the valley, and
he said, it's gravity. Well, we passed along, and
came to another small stream, and I put him the same
question as to that, and he made the same answer^
' Well, Squire,' said I, * ain't there some place in the
world where the streams run up hill ?' ' No,' said he,
* it's a law of nater, all over the world, that water shall
always run down hill.' We came, after a little, to a great
oak tree ; I looked around, and after a good while I
found an acorn that had sprouted up in the spring, and
had sent out a little tree twice as long as my finger.
'Now,' said I, 'Squire, did that great oak always
stand there ?' l No,' said he, ' it grew up from an
acorn.' 'What,' said I, 'was that oak ever a little
thing, like this I hold in my hand?' and I showed
him the acorn, and the sprout I had found. ' Exactly/
he replied. •' Well,' said I, ' do all great oaks spring

AKGUMENT AGAINST INFIDELITY. 197

from acorns ? Don't they grow from beech nuts, or
hickory nuts, and don't they start up sometimes tall
trees, at once ?-' ' No,' said he, ' its a law of nater that
every fruit can bring forth only the same kind of tree
that bore it,' and he talked larnedly about the nater
of trees, and their growth.

" As we passed along, I saw a bird fly out from a
bush, and I saw she had built her nest there, and it
had five little eggs in it. ' Look here,' said I, ' Squire,
how came all these twigs and this moss, and thistle-
down, woven into this bowl-shaped moss, in the
branches of this bush ?' ' Why,' said he, ' you know
well enough, that's a bird's nest, and that the bird
brought them, and mixed them into that shape for its
nest.' ' Well,' said I, ' them round things there,7
pointing to the eggs, ' did they fall from the trees ?'
1 No,' said he, ' you know very well, they're the eggs
of the birds.' ' But,' said I again, ' if I plant 'em, will
they grow up into bushes, with birds nests in their
branches, with eggs in them ?' ' Tucker,' said he,
1 you're making game of me ; you know as much
about them things as I do, and may be more,' and he
went on to tell how natur' had made a law of instinct,
that taught birds how to build their nests, and hatch

198 HILLS AND LAKES.

their young. I couldn't understand all he said, though
he didn't seem to want to confound me by his larnin'.
When he'd got through I said to him, says I ' Squire,
who made these laws of natur', as you call them, that
make water, always, and all over the world, run down
hill, and great oaks grow up from little acorns, and
teach the birds to build their nests, and rear their
young ? "Who made these laws, and how does it hap-
pen that when everything came by chance, as you say,
everything seems to be governed by regular laws,
that makes like causes produce like effects, all over
the world. I won't undertake to argy the pint, but to
my notion, what you call natur's laws is, after all, but
carryin' out the plans of the great God of natur, and
that these things can only be so, because he willed 'em
to be so. Chance always makes confusion, mixes up
things, and you don't find any confusion or mixen up
in the laws of natur', or among the things that exist in
natur'. They never rub agin each other, but always
work safe and smooth.

" I mind he said to me one day, ' Tucker,' says he,
'if there be a Providence that made and rules all things,
that is infinitely powerful, wise, and just, how is it that
all the world ain't honest and happy, and why is it that

A CONTEST WITH INFIDELITY. 199

he don't so order it, that all shall have an equal por-
tion of enjoyment in this world ? Now you know it
ain't so. Some are sick, and in pain all their lives.
Some are hungry and cold. Some go sorrowing all
their days ; all that they love are lost to them, and
they stand all alone in their desolation, like some tall
forest tree that has been riven by the lightning.
Honest men have been convicted of crime, and buried
in prison, or perished on the gallows.' In this way he
argued with me, and troubled me ; for, Squire, I kept
thinkin' and thinkin' on what he said, till, while I
I didn't exactly doubt, yet my mind became uneasy.
But at last it came to me, that man at best is but a weak
and feeble creatur', and his ways ain't the ways of the
great Creator. That the mystery of all this belongs
to that portion of the great plan of the universe, which
is not revealed to man, and I remembered the words
of a preacher I heard once, who took the hand of a
weeping mother from the cold forehead of a child she
loved, and as he lifted it from the face of the little one
that was dead, he pointed upwards, and said, ' HE
ordereth all things well.' So I said to myself, when
the arguments of that infidel man rose up to trouble
me, ( HE ordereth all things well ;' when I look upon

200 HILLS AND LAKES.

the uneven things that happen in this world, — how
hard the lot of one, and how happy that of another is,
I say to myself, ' HE ordereth all things well.' There's
a great many things I can't understand, and some that
the wisest men can't understand, and the dealin's of
Providence with human fate, and human destiny, is
one of 'em. If he troubles the just man, it is for some
wise and benevolent purpose, that will be made
known in time or in eternity.

" I'm a poor man, Squire, and an ignorant one. I
don't care about riches, but I should like to be wise ;
but I would not barter my faith in the good provi-
dence of my Maker, for all the kingdoms of the world,
and all the knowledge that human wisdom ever at-
tained to. I don't belong to any church, for I don't
clearly understand the difference in their doctrines.
But I've a simple doctrine of my own that I hold to,
and it's this : that the man who believes in God, and
fears him, who does the thing that is right, may go on
his journey of life rejoicing, like the running stream
that travels quietly to the ocean, and lay down at last,
in the hope of a place among the happy hereafter.
Not that I believe in his being saved by the merit of
his works, for man is a sinful and erring creature at

WISDOM BEFORE KICHES. 201

best, but there is One who can wipe away the sin that
is repented of, and lead him safely home at last. This
is my faith, that I gather from nater and from the
Bible, and while I interfere with no man's opinions, I
shall cling to mine till I die, and take the risk of their
carrying me safely through. But I never want to see
the man again, who says there is no God."

" Well," said I, " Tucker, you'll see no such man
in me, and you've preached a better sermon than some

I've heard from Doctors of Divinity."

9*

XX

THE SILENT ENERGY OF NATURE. — HER WORKSHOPS. — HER JOUR-
NEYMEN.

IT is a pleasant thing to rise with the early dawn,
on the shores of one of these beautiful lakes, and
watch the departure of the stars as they disappear, one
after another, from the sky ; to see the twilight fading
as it were into day ; to see the spectral and sombre
shadows of the forest vanish away, the clustering trees,
that stood like so many ghosts solemn and moveless
in the darkness, assuming form and shape ; to hear
voice after voice, of the hundred that belong to the
morning, waking from the stillness of nature's repose,
and see the brightness of the perfect day, spreading its
glories abroad over all the earth.

On this island, we noticed a variety of beautiful
wild flowers. The rose, blossoming from its short
bush, that sent its roots among the moss, and drew its

A LUXUEY IN LAZINESS. 203

sustenance from the crevices in the rocks. The wild
violet, along the banks of the lake; the balm that
grew in the moist places; and the lady-slipper, that
sprung from the decayed leaves beside the fallen trunk
of some great tree. All these, with many others, that
as yet are nameless, while they could not rival the
productions of modern gardens, yet possessed a modest
and simple beauty, well worthy of a place in the
arcana of the florist. "We spent the day in paddling
from island to island, and floating along under the
shade of the tall trees that grew along by the water's
edge. It has been said by somebody, I cannot now
say who, — the sentiment, while I endorse it, is not my
own, — that there is a luxury in laziness, superior to
almost every other luxury. To enjoy it, one must be
away from the disturbing elements of civilization, be-
yond the sights and sounds, and the conventional pro-
prieties of artificial life ; where he can lounge in list-
less dreaminess, build his castles in the air, and not
have them knocked to pieces by some stern reality, or
toppled down by some practical thought, forced upon
him through his eye or his ear. He must be haunted
by no care, fretted by no business, disturbed by no
necessity, nor hurried by the calls of duty. This lux-

204: HILLS AND LAKES.

ury we found that day, in all its beatitude, among the
cool shades of those beautiful islands, beneath a balmy
sky, fanned by a cooling breeze, breathing the odors
of the wild flowers, and regaled by the songs of the
birds.

" Did you ever think, Squire," said my guide, as
he plucked a wild rose, that reared its modest head
beside the boulder on which we were sitting, " how
quietly nater goes about her work, and how silently
she makes and finishes the beautiful things we see
around us ? It ain't so with man. He works with a
great noise and bustle ; when he builds his steam-
boat, or his house, or his great ship, he hammers
away, and the clank of the machinery is always thun-
derin' upon the ear. The big sledge rings against the
great anvil, and the hammer echoes as it drives home
the nail or the spike. His saw grates and hisses, as it
shapes the plank, and his axe speaks out as it hews
the timber. His huge water-wheel goes grumblin' on
its rounds, and his steam-engine puffs and blows, as if
its lungs were troubled with the asthma. I was down
to Plattsburgh one day, and went into a machine shop
where there were a great many men at work, ham-
merin', and turnin', and shapin' iron into machinery,

THE SILENT ENEKOY OF N A TUBE. 205

and tho' everything went on regular, yet there was
noise enough to make a man onused to it crazy. I
saw them puttin' together a little steam-engine, and
saw how smoothly it worked, — all its parts fitted like
a shoe to its last, but I was thinkin' how many noises
it created t6 build it. Now it ain't so with nater.
You can't see her work, nor you can't hear her work.
She moves on silent, but sure, and her work is all
done without a sound to break the stillness. Look at
this little flower. Yesterday, may be, it was a bud ;
to-day it is a rose, and, if a thousand men had been
watchin' it, not one could have seen or told when it
changed from the bud to the rose, and yet it did
change. Look at that great tree, it is taller than the
mast of a ship. See its great branches and its broad
leaves. It was once but an acorn. It sprouted and
grew to what you see, and if all the eyes in the world
had watched it, not one could have seen it grow.
Nater started it from the ground, and built it up as it
stands there, and if all the world had been listenin',
they couldn't have heard a sound as she put it to-
gether. Look away out over the woods, and see the
broad forest wavin' there as far as your eye can reach.
Think of that vast wilderness of trees, and all the

206 HILLS AND LAKES.

smaller things growin' beneath them. What is the
proudest work of man, to that great creation of nater
that lies spread out before you ? In the creation of it
all, nater made no sound. She didn't wake a single
echo. She moved on silently, steadily, and that great
forest rose up, finished, and not a noise stirred the air
in all that mighty work. You see a farmer sowin' his
seed, and you . know that a field of grain will follow.
But you may watch, and all the world may watch
and listen, and not one can see the blades come out
of the ground, and yet they will come out of the
ground ; not one can see the grain grow, and yet it
will grow. Not one can see it ripen, and yet it will
ripen. Nater will finish her work to the ripened crop,
and the eye that watches ever so closely, or the ear
that listens, can't see her work, nor hear her work,
and yet she works on, day and night, week-days and
Sundays, till her task is done.

" Take the little child in its mother's arms, how
weak and feeble it is. It don't know but little, and
what knowledge it has, is only instinct that belongs to
the young of all animals. But there may be in it,
what will one day be great wisdom, and a strong tall
man. Watch its growth. It passes from infancy,

NATURE'S WORKSHOP. 207

from- feebleness to a stout boy, and again, a little
longer and it is a powerful man — with mind and body
perfected. But you may watch it ever so closely, and
and you can't see it change, though it does change,
you can't tell when thought passed into its mind, nor
when strength passed into its limbs. All you can say
is, that it has changed, from the helplessness of in-
fancy, into the stature and strength of manhood.
While you was watchin' nater was workin' in her
silent but sure way, perfectin' and perfectin' its job,
and may be laffin at your trying to see her foot-prints,
or hear the sound of her machinery.

" And just so it is with the countless labors she
performs. You don't hear her water-wheels, nor
her steam engines, you don't hear her saw or her
hammer, she moves along in her great machine-shop,
with a foot that leaves no track, a voice that utters no
whisper, a hand that brings to the senses no sound.
It's a wonderful energy Squire, that nater brings to
the creation of her works, so silent, so mysterious,
that shows us its countless productions, while it defies
us to search out the way she placed them before us.
I've often thought I'd like to look into nater's work-
shop and see how she makes the thousand things that

208 HILLS AND LAKES.

come from her hand. To see the invisible agencies,
the viewless mechanics at their labors — to see where
they get the materials that they work up into the
things that grow. To find out where they bring
thought and wisdom from, that they put into the
mind of a man, and the instincts that make up the
knowledge of dumb animals. To know where the
strength comes from, and the flesh and the bones, that
change the little child into a great stout man. That
would be a sight Squire, worth lookin' at. But we
shan't see it, and no man will ever see it. It's among
the hidden things that the eye of livin' man can't look
upon, nor his cunning find out."

XXI.

THE EAGLE AND HIS PREY. — THE LOON. — His HABITS. — THE
PARTRIDGE. — THE SQUIRREL AND THE FOREST MICE.

As we paddled down the lake we saw a brood of
half-grown ducks, some twenty rods from the shore,
swimming and gyrating round the old one, diving and
flapping their unfledged wings along on the water,
seemingly in a most playful humor. "We paused close
in by the shore, and were watching their sports, when
we heard the alarm cry of the mother, and they in-
stantly scattered — pulling with feet and wings for the
shore, quaking and evincing in every way the wildest
terror. Suddenly a bald eagle came like an arrow,
from his perch among the trees on a high bluff be-
yond them, and seizing, as he glanced from the water,
one of the brood in his great claws, bore it away
round the point, whence he made his stoop. It was a
beautiful exhibition of skill, and though it made a

210 HILLS AND LAKES.

vacancy in that brood of ducks, yet it was a sight I
should have been loath to miss. It was all done in
an instant. There was no pause in his flight ; as the
eagle seized his prey he glanced upwards and wheeled
in the air with wings apparently unmoved, and then
flew off to devour it.

" There, Squire, I have seen that thing done a
hundred times," said Tucker. " That eagle has been
watchin' that brood of ducks, may be an hour, and
his mind was made up which one he'd take before he
started from his perch. He don't shoot at random,
and don't often miss his mark. I've often thought it
must take a great deal of trainin' to do it. But I sup-
pose it's nater or instinct as you call it, and old Pete
Meigs always said the eagle's first stoop is as sure as
his hundredth or his thousandth."

We waited a long time for the frightened water-fowl
to come from their hiding places. At length we saw
the old one steal cautiously out from among the
reeds, and turn up first one eye and then the other,
as if to see that her enemy was gone. She seemed to
become satisfied that the danger was over, and in
answer to her low call her little ones, one after an-
other, gathered around her. She went swimming and

THE EAGLE AND HIS PREY. 211

quaking around among them in a restless and uneasy
way for a little time, as if counting them up. But
she soon forgot the lost one, if she missed it, for in a
few minutes she became quiet, raised herself partly
out of the water, flapped her wings, and then fell to
straightening out her feathers with her bill, as if
nothing had happened. *

" The eagle," said Tucker, " knows what water-
fowl it's safe to make prey of. He never takes the
loon. That bird, as you see, floats away out on the
water, and don't seem to take any notice of the eagle.
He's got a long, sharp bill, like a dirk, and he uses it
like one, sometimes, too. I mind once, I was over on
the Shazee with a man from down south, who had a
large water-dog that he'd larnt to fetch and carry, and
when he shot anything on the water, he'd send his
dog, ISTero, as he called him, in after it. Well, one
morning a loon was plumin' himself near the shore,
and the gentleman crept carefully down to the bank
of the lake, and with his gun loaded with duck-shot,
fired upon and wounded it, so that it could not swim
fast or fly away. He sent his dog to bring it to the
shore. Nero plunged in, fierce enough, and swam
boldly up to it. The wounded bird dodged the grab

212 HILLS AND LAKES.

the dog made at it, and struck its long sharp bill into
his neck in a way that made him howl. Nero turned
to put out for the shore, and the loon gave him an-
other stab in the ham, that sent him ahead crying ki !
hi ! at every pull. The poor dog came out of the
water with two great wounds, and bleeding like a
stuck pig, very much to the amazement and wonder
of his master. After that Nero took two looks at the
birds his master sent him into the water after, before
he ventured near them. Now, Shack there, would
have declined that job. He knows what the long
sharp bill of a loon means, though how he got his
larnin' on that subject I can't tell. I know he never
was wounded by one in his life. But it's of his
knowin' ways, and may be, he has studied it out by
seein' the loons I've shot afore now, and may be he's
got hold of the truth by hearin' me tell about the
trick that bird played on the gentleman's water-dog.

" The loon, Squire, is a curious bird. You hardly
ever see two together sociable like, though there may
be more than that number, in one of these little lakes
at once. But they're always a great ways apart, and
never seem to have anything in particular to say to
one another. I never saw a young loon in my life.

THE LOON. 218

Where they breed, I don't know, but one tiling I'm
certain of, they don't breed in these waters. You may
come out here, airly in the season, and you won't see
a loon in all the lakes. When the weather gets warm,
you'd be woke up in the morning by their clear, loud,
ringing voice, and you'll see may be two or three, off
in different directions on the water* You may stay
all summer and you'll see them there, and always
apart, and you won't see any others. Along in the
fall you see them as usual on the lake before you go
to your shanty at night, and when you get up in the
mornin', they're all gone, and that's all you'll know
about 'em, if you stay among these lakes studyin'
their ways a dozen years. And when they go, you
had better go too, or make up your mind to be out in
the woods in an ugly storm, for in a day or two it'll
surely come. This much I've learned, and when they
start) I always start too.

" There's another queer water-fowl, that little dip-
per as we call him, sittin' out there like a cork on the
water. He, too, is always alone, and don't build his
nest in these parts, as I could ever discover. We
used to have a deal of fun with them chaps when we
had flint locks, before the percussion caps came into

HILLS A^D LAKES.

fashion. When I've been out to these lakes with
people that thought themselves great shots, and could
do the thing handsome too, I'd point out to 'em one
of them little dippers that would be eyeing us, may
be ten or twelve rods off, as he sat lightly upon the
water, and ask the marksman to shoot it with his rifle.
Well, he'd draw up, thinkin' to fetch the bird sure,
when at the flash, quick as lightning down would go
the little fellow under the water. The ball would
strike may be exactly where it sat, and the marksman
would think he'd shot it into a hundred pieces, but in
a moment the bird would pop up, and raising itself on
end flap its wings, throwing the water from them, and
would seem to say to his enemy ' do that again.' I've
seen a man waste twenty charges, one after another,
in tryin' to shoot one of them divers. Every time it
would dodge at the flash, and be under water before
the ball got to it. And it sometimes seemed to me as
if the little fellow enjoyed the sport, as it never
thought of getting beyond the range of the rifle. But
I never tried the percussion caps on 'em, for I don't
like to take the hazard of killin' one of the happy
little things by way of tryin' the experiment."

Along in the afternoon we landed in a little cove.

THE PARTBIDGE. 215

I heard the drumming of a partridge, which is one of
the queer sounds of the forest that one hears towards
evening on a summer day. It commences slow at
first, like measured beating on a muffled drum. The
blows increase in rapidity, until in a quarter of a
minute they become so rapid that they are undij
tinguishable to the ear, and for another quarter of a
minute they roll like that same muffled drum beaten
by a nimble-handed drummer. There is a singularity
about the sound. You cannot tell whether it is near
or far off. For aught you can say, it may be twenty
rods or a quarter of a mile distant. And then, too, it
is somewhat difficult to tell from what direction it
comes. At first you think it is on this side of you
and then on that, and you will hear it more than once
or twice before you make up your mind positively as
to the direction of the sound.

I listened until I was satisfied of the point from
which, in this instance, the sound came, and crept
carefully in that direction, intending to satisfy myself of
the manner in which a partridge makes this drumming
noise. After moving cautiously some thirty or forty
rods, I saw my bird standing upon a log, picking and
straightening out the feathers on his tail, and along on

216 HILLS AND LAKES.

his sides, as if dressing himself for a tea-party or a
ball. Presently he straightened himself up, on tip-
toes, beat his wings not against the log on which he
stood, but against his sides, slow at first, and then
faster and faster until the " drumming" was for a few
seconds a continuous sound. I saw him thus drum
some eight or ten times during the half hour that I
was watching him. He did not discover me and I
did not disturb him. I was anxious to learn, if I could,
his object in thus beating a tattoo on his own ribs, and
thought I discovered it when I saw a hen partridge
hop on the other end of the log, and walking leisure-
ly up to the drummer, seat herself quietly by his side.
They sat together a few minutes, and then left the log
and sauntered away among the bushes.

While I sat watching them, I was greatly amused
with the conduct of a squirrel in my neighborhood.
I first saw him as he came down from the branches
of a tree, a short distance from where I sat, and went
hopping about, turning over the leaves, and, every
now and then, cocking himself up on his haunches, to
eat the beech-nut he had picked up. He jumped, after
a little, upon the log where I sat perfectly still, and
came within some ten feet of me, before he discovered

THE SQUIRREL. 217

me at all. He made a few desperate leaps to the foot
of a great birch tree, and running up the trunk some
eight or ten feet, stopped and turned head downwards,
and commenced chattering, as if inclined to hold a
conversation with the strange animal he saw sitting
there on the log. I did not move, and he seemed at
last to entertain some doubt whether it was an animal
after all that he had been so terribly frightened at
He came slowly and cautiously down ; stopped, as he
reached the ground; sat himself up on end; and
looked at me cunningly and suspiciously. He hopped
a few paces nearer, and took another look, then leaped
upon the log where I sat, within ten feet of me, look-
ing intently and cautiously at me with his active,
bright, little eyes, — turning first one side, then the
other of his face towards me, and exhibiting almost a
human curiosity to study out who or what I was. At
length, as I was entirely moveless, he seemed to have
made up his mind that I was nothing after all but a
stump, or a thing that had grown there, and passed on
in his hunt after beech-nuts, out of my sight

I was amused, too, with the little forest mice, not
much larger than the end of my thumb, that seemed

to live in and under the log on which I sat. They

10

218 HILLS AND LAKES.

would come out, and dodge about among and under
the leaves, and over my feet ; and one little fellow
commenced gnawing with his sharp little teeth, at
my greasy boots, while another seemed inclined to
travel up the inside of the leg of my pantaloons. This
was carrying the joke a little too far, and as I stirred
to prevent it, they vanished in an instant to their
hiding-place under the log.

XXII.

THE GRAY OWL. — THE WILD BIRDS. — THE DUMB ANIMAL WISER IN
HIS INSTINCTS, THAN MAN IN HIS REASON. — THE FoLLT OF CRIME.

TOWAKDS sundown, as we were floating along the
bluff bank of a cove, or little bay indented in the
rocky shore of the upper island, I saw sitting among
the clustering branches of a scrubby oak, that grew
from the crevices in the rocks, a great gray owl,
staring with his huge round eyes, with an aspect of
profound wisdom at us. The feathers upon each side
of his tiger-shaped head, stood up like cat's ears, and
his legs were covered with pantalets of down, to the
claws. A strangely solemn look, a deeply meditative
gravity has the owl, as he stares out from his bush,
and one not used to him, would mistake him for the
great philosopher of the feathered tribe. That would
indeed be a great mistake. He is a sluggish, stupid
animal, a living illustration of the adage, that appear-

220 HILLS AND

ances are sometimes deceitful. He is not, however,
without his parallels in the human species. There are
owl men, as well as owl birds. With great develop*
ments, and small wit, profound gravity with little
sense, solemn visages, and empty heads,— and who,
though full of pretension, when sounded have no ring
of the true metal, but dull and heavy like brass.
There was no object in making spoil of him, and we
passed on, leaving him to his stupid meditations
among the branches of his bnsh. We heard him, as
we rounded the point, sending forth his hoarse, sol-
emn, " To whit, to whoo, whoo" after us. The owl
has but two changes to his Voice, — the one low, sol-
emn, and hoarse, and yet heard at a long distance, —
the other a piercing, shrill, and intense scream, like
the cry of the panther. The latter seems to be an
alarm cry* It will break suddenly from the branches
above you, sending the blood to your fingers ends,
and startling you like a galvanic shock. Your hair
starts up like " quills upon the fretful porcupine," and
when your nerves subside, while you laugh at the
absurdity of your alarm, you are nevertheless thank-
ful that it was occasioned only by an owl.

The most common birds found on these islands,

THE WILD BIRDS. 221

were the blue jay, the chewink, that takes its name
from the resemblance its oft-repeated note bears to the
word, the brown thrush, the cat-bird, and a bird of
whitish color, like those which used, when I was a
boy, to be called the snow-bird. There is also a
variety of the wood-pecker tribe, from the large black,
red-headed cock of the woods, that goes rising and
falling in his flight, with a loud, clear, clanking voice,
to the little chickadee that dances around the trunk
of the fir tree, looking for his insect or his worm,
holding on with his tiny claws, now with his head,
and now with his tail uppermost, cross ways, and every
way, — up, down, and around the tree in ceaseless
activity. We saw a number of black and red squir-
rels, clambering among the limbs of the trees, or run-
ning about on the ground, in pursuit of the nuts that
had fallen the previous season. There was no lack of
life off here in the woods and on these beautiful islands,
and all seemed to be busy and happy. We landed on
the south point of the island for the night. The side
of a large boulder offered a convenient location for a
temporary shantee, which we soon built, and gathered
spruce branches for a bed, and wood for our smudge.
"I've often thought," said my guide, as we lighted

222 HILLS AND LAKES.

our pipes after supper, " that the dumb animal is wiser
in his instincts, than man is, in his reason and knowl-
edge. Did you ever notice how happy every wild
thing seems to be, and how all livin' things, but man
alone, seem to enjoy themselves after the fashion of
their naters? The bird hops, and flies about, and
sings in his great glee, full of happiness, even while he
is seeking the food that is to keep him from starvation.
The squirrels go chatterin' and friskin' about, chasm'
each other up and down the trees, leapin' from branch
to branch, or skippin' playfully along the ground.
The wood-rabbit leaps awkwardly about, cockin' his
long ears at every sound, and nibblin' at the forest
grass and tender leaves as he passes along. What of
all the wild things that we see around us, seem to have
a care or a sorrow ? They don't distress themselves
about to-morrow, for they know that it'll take care of
itself. They ain't studyin' and contrivin' about the
future, nor distressin' themselves about the past.
They go straight along, enjoyin' the good the day or
the season brings, contented whether it be more or
less. A dumb animal never does violence to his
nater. He don't eat anything that he don't like, and
\ia instinct makes him avoid what ain't for his good.

INSTINCT vs. KEASON. 223

He don't go where lie won't be comfortable, if he can
help it, and he's always to be found in the place he's
fitted by nater for.

" Now, Squire, it ain't so with man. He's an on-
easy, discontented, restless creater, always pushin'
ahead, reachin' after something beyond him. If he's
got one loaf, he wants two, even though the first can't
be but half eaten, and the second gets mouldy while
he's bakin the third. If he's got one farm, he's strug-
glin' to get another, while the fruits of the first is
being eaten up by the rats in his granary. The richer
he gets, the richer he wants to be ; and he goes on
hoardin' and workin', till he wears himself out in
gatherin wealth, that won't take one ache from his
bones, nor stop the coming of old age, nor keep him
an hour from the grave. He can't eat it, nor wear it, nor
take it with him when he dies. I'm a poor man, Squire,
but when I start on the trail that begins on the other
side of the grave, I shall take as much of the treasures
that people toil so hard for with me, as the richest
man in the world. One man is always tryin' to search
out wisdom, and to get a greater amount of larnin'
than all the world besides. This, may be, ain't so
foolish, if he don't neglect his body, or by over-

224 HILLS AND LAKES.

workin' his mind, bring pain, and disease, and weak-
ness upon himself, and make himself old before his
time. What if he gathers all the wisdom of the world,
all the knowledge that human nater can attain to ? It
ain't much, at best, and the mountain he's try in' to
climb grows steeper and higher, as he goes up. He
may climb and climb, till his eyes grow dim, and his
head gets dizzy, but the top is further off than it was
when he started. He may look back on the path by
which he has ascended, and there's a thousand things
to be studied out, that he overlooked as he came
along. He goes deeper and deeper into the mist, and
he learns at last, that the eye of man can't look into
the thick darkness that nater has rapt round her. He
finds out, in the end, that man's wisdom is at best
foolishness, and what he thinks he has studied out, he
ain't always sure that he knows. And then, Squire,
what good does it do him, as a general thing, to roll
up such a great heap of knowledge ? It don't make
him any more contented or happy. I am talkin' now
about the man that sits up nights, studyin' and
cypherin' out things, and wearin' out his body in
tryin' to look into and understand all the hidden
things of nater. He don't eat well, nor he don't relish

THE FOLLY OF CEIME. 225

his sleep, He wastes away, and may be dies, while
the thing he's lookin' after, is yet a great ways be-
yond him.

" But it ain't the man that searches after knowl-
edge, that quarrels most with nater, and sets her up
against him. I've seen young men, drinkin' and
carousin', playin' cards, ard swearin' and helping each
other along in the ways of wickedness, in their young
days, and I always said to myself, that if they'd just
use the reason that God had given them, and look
along down the trail of life, they'd see the great
harvest of sorrow, that would surely spring up from
the seed they were sowin', in the spring-time of their
lives. Such coiirses lead to great sins, and are pretty
sure to end in an old age of repentance. When stiff-
ness comes to the joints, and gray hairs gather upon

v
the head, like the snows of winter on the mountains,

it will be a sad thing to look back, and see only deso-
lation behind them, while around them there is no
comfort, and before them no hope. I've seen a great
many men destroyin' themselves with strong drink,
killin' their bodies, and their minds, and destroyin' all
their human feelins', by indulgin' in the use of drinks

that are onnateral, that take a great deal of work to

10*

226 HILLS AND LAKES.

make 'em taste pleasant. It's a strange thing, Squire,
to see a man, that may be, has a wife and little chil-
dren that he loves, that cling around him in their
young affections, like the wild vine that creeps up,
and hugs the trunk of the strong old oak. To see
sich a man givin' way to destroyin' drinks, pluckin'
up from his heart the love of the husband and the
father, and castin' from him the fond arms of his little
ones, and goin' straight along down to a drunkard's
grave, in spite of his wife's anguish, and his children's
tears. It's a sad sight Squire, but you and I have
seen it more than once. It's a thing I can't under-
stand— a foolishness that no dumb animals was ever
guilty of.

" And then to see people breakin' the laws, plun-
derin' their neighbors, and may be takin' away, by
violence, human life. Crime, Squire, is a wonderful
folly, outside of the moral wrong, and the sin against
God. I was once down to Plattsburgh, when a court
was sittin' there, and I went into the court-house,
where they were tryin' a man for robbing a store in
the night time. The jury were listenin' to what the
witnesses were telling against him. It was all clear
and straight, that he was the man who did the rob-

THE FRUITS OF CRIME. 227

bery, and the jury without going out, said he was
guilty. I saw his wife, sittin' beside him, with a little
child in her arms, and I heard her sob and cry, as she
covered her face with her shawl, when she saw there
was no hope. By and by, the judge told him to stand
up, and gave him the sentence that sent him to State's
Prison for years. I never shall forget the sorrowful
voice, nor the great tears that rolled down the cheeks
of his wife, as she parted in her desolation from him.
Then I thought to myself, Squire, what a wonderful
foolishness is crime. Here was a man, and there are
and always have been hundreds and thousands like
him, who broke the heart of his wife, and destroyed
the promise of his little one, brought shame upon his
kindred, and a great blight upon his own name, be-
sides being shut up in a prison, and havin' long years
carved out of a life, short at best, for a chance of
gettin' by crime what he would have squandered in a
month, and what he might have earned by honest
labor in a year. No dumb animal, would have been
guilty of such folly.

" Keason, Squire, is a great thing, but it don't save
human nater from great and wonderful foolishness."

XXIII.

THE 3 ESUIT'S JOURNAL. — WILD BULLS AND Cows, WITH ANTLERS
LIKE THJE STAG. — THE " TAMINO" OF THE INDIANS.

THE wind died away as the sun went down, to
a perfect calm. The lake lay there in perfect stillness,
its surface unruffled by a wave. It is impossible to
describe the beauty of a calm, clear evening, on one
of these lakes. The shadows of the mountains, and
of the tall forest trees, reach out farther, and are re-
flected with a deeper and deeper shade, as the night
approaches, from the depths of the quiet waters. The
little bays, and wooded indentations along the shore,
grow darker, and more solemn, while the mountain
peaks stand out with a bolder, and sharper outline,
against the sky. Each forest sound becomes more and
more distinct, as the general hum of life sinks away
into silence. Star after star steals out in its bright-
ness, until all the " candles of the sky" are lighted,

THE JESUIT'S JOUKNAL. 229

and in their proper places. I noticed this evening,
that the trout of the lake, seemed to be holding a
jubilee ; from the time the sun hid himself behind
the mountains, they commenced their sports. In
every direction they were in playful activity. Here,
one would be seen skimming along the top of the
water, leaving a long wake to mark the course he fol-
lowed. There, another would come to the surface,
and thrusting his nose upward, would pitch suddenly
down, giving his tail a flourish in the air, as he disap-
peared again towards the bottom. Then another huge
fellow would leap clear of the water, in his great glee,
shake himself in the air, and then tumble back awk-
wardly into the lake. "We took a turn at trolling
among them, but they were too happy to bite, and we
left them to the enjoyment of their sports.

" Squire," said Tucker, as we were paddling
leisurely along towards the outlet of the lake, " I've
read in one of the books printed by the State, that
tells about the airly settlements of this country, that a
great many years ago, when all the State of New
York, and every foot of land south of the great lakes,
and west of the settlements just along the sea coasts,
clear to the Mississippi, and beyond that, too, to the

230 HILLS AND LAKES.

ocean, was one great wilderness, a Jesuit missionary,
thinkin' to convert the wild Ingens, and make Chris-
tians jf 'em, passed up the St. Lawrence in a canoe,
and so on up old Ontario, and away to Lake Erie. It
seems he wrote down the curious things he saw, and
sent that writin' home to France, where it lay until a
few years ago, when it was discovered, and put in
print. I've been told that he was the first white man
that ever passed up the St. Lawrence, or coasted the
Ontario — that he alone, of all the civilized world, had
heard the roar of Niagara, or looked upon the falls of
the Genesee. That was a great thing, Squire ; but for
all his writin' the world ain't much the wiser. He
was a simple-minded man, who had no eye for nater,
and took no notice of the wild things of the woods.
In all the country he travelled over, he saw only
heathens to be converted, and sinners to be saved. In
all his wanderings he carried only a Bible, and talked
with the savage Ingens only about their souls. It's a
great pity, Squire, you and I hadn't been along that
trip ; the world would be wiser about the country as
it then was, about the wild beasts, and birds, and
game, than it now is."

" A man down to Plattsburgh, that I'd been out

WILD Cows AND BULLS.

231

to the Shazee, and the Shatagee lakes with, showed
me in a book the old Missionary's Journal, and I shall
never forget the only things written in it about the
game. I read it carefully, and know it all by heart.

" * Travelling through great prairies,' he writes,
* we saw in divers quarters immense herds of wild
bulls and cows ; and their horns resembled, in some
respects, the antlers of the stag.'

" In another place he says, ' Droves of twenty cows
plunge into the waters to meet us — some are killed by
way of amusement with an axe.'* As near as I can
calculate, this was on the St. Lawrence, down below
the Thousand Islands, in the region of the outlet of
the Champlain.

" Now, these wild bulls and cows couldn't have
been moose, unless the nater of the beast has changed ;
for in all the woods there's not an animal so shy and
and wild, and that shuns a man with such care. He's
a cunning animal, and has ways that are not such as
the missionary describes. He's a solitary animal, and
lives away off in the deepest recesses of the woods,
and don't congregate in droves. It don't seem to me
that the buffalo ever left the rich pastures of the West,

* Documentary History of New York, vol. i.

232 HILLS AKD LAKES.

to wander away off north to the St. Lawrence, to
starve in the woods in the winter, and be eat up by
the black fly in the summer, when they'd fare so much
better at home. It's agin nater that they should do
so. It's true I've "Kearn tell of their paths over the
Alleghany Mountains, and that in airly times they
were found in Ohio, and may be in western New
York ; but I never believed myself they came so far
east and north as this State ; and there's no tradition
of their havin' done so among the Ingens. Besides,
their horns don't resemble the horns of the stag at
all. Them wild cows and bulls, Squire, warn't buffalo,
and accordin' to my notion, they couldn't have been
moose, either. What they were is more than I know ;
I've studied and thought about it a great deal, but it
don't do no good.

" It must be true, for the missionary writes like an
honest man, who feared God, and wouldn't lie about
what he saw. Besides, he don't tell any long yarn
about it, nor any cock-and-bull story, but simply
states the fact, and leaves it. It's a wonderful pity he
warn't thinkin' less of the sinners, and more of the
things he saw on that first journey, among the wilds
of the New "World, for it might well be called new

THE MISSIONARY'S MISTAKE. 233

then. He didn't make Christian men and women of
the Ingens, nor win them from their wild and savage
way either. To them, he didn't do much good, and
the world knew all it wanted to know about 'em.
They were a cussed, scalpin', murderin', savage set,
and warn't worth savin' any how. If that missionary
had just told us all about the woods, and the game, the
beasts, and the birds, and the appearance and nater of
things, and especially all about them wild cows and
bulls with horns like the stag, he'd a done something
to be remembered by, and the world would have
thanked him for it. But he told just enough to make
the world want to know more, and to cuss and swear
at him for not tellin' more, instead of goin' cruisin'
after them blasted red skins. It's provokin', Squire,
for men like you and me, to have such a little corner
of the cover lifted up, that conceals so much knowl-
edge, and lettin' us see that there's a great many things
beneath it that we'd like wonderfully to know about,
and then shutting it against us forever, especially when
thinkin' and studyin' won't help us to find it out. I'm
blamed if I havn't been mad with that missionary,
ever since I read his journal. It's a thousand pities he
didn't take an observin' hunter with him, who'd a set

234 HILLS AND LAKES.

down on paper all about the wild beasts, and birds,
and such things, while the missionary was writin'
about the heathenish and savage Ingens. I'd give
half a dozen bearskins for such a book, afore I'd give
one for all the red cusses between the St. Lawrence
and the Kocky Mountains."

" The ruling passion, Tucker," said I.

" I don't know precisely what you mean by the
rulin' passion, Squire," he replied, "but at this day,
when the world knows the nater of an Ingen, and just
what they're worth, it's no great things to read about
'em, as they were two hundred years ago. But to my
notion, as the country grows old, it's an interestin' study
to look into things as they were so long back, and see
what wild animals, birds, fishes, and such things, then
existed ; to know what of them have been pushed en-
tirely out of the world, and what of 'em have been
left, and to understand what changes white men, and
tame life all around 'em, have worked on 'em. Now
these things is a sealed book to us, jist because people
that travelled in them days, didn't think what wonder-
ful changes would be made in this great country, or
were contrivin' how to make Christians and civilized
people of the Ingens. It's always been my opinion,

THE INDIAN. 235

it the nateral place for an Ingen, is in the woods,
:e the moose, painters, deer, and bear ; and that it's
dr fate to pass away with the forests, as them wild
sts do. I have hearn tell of some who have
changed their ways, and become like white folks ; but
it's my notion they're like some tame buffaloes I saw
in a farmer's lot once, down on the Connecticut. They
made blamed mean-lookin' cattle, and stayed there
only because there was high fences around 'em, and
no prairies or wood to fly to. The stock wasn't
thought much on. It cost more to improve 'em than
they're worth, and they'll die out, or be run out, by
crossin' the breed at last.

XXIV.

A WILD CAT. — LONO NEAK. — ROUND LAKE. — THE LOWER SARANAO

A FlOHT BETWEEN A PANTHER AND A BEAR

WE returned to the foot of the lake, and towards
evening we bade adieu with regret to this most beauti-
ful of all the sheets of water in this broad wilderness.
"We left it as we found it, sleeping alone in the old
primeval forests, full of the belief that it would one
day be the resort of the thousand tourists or pleasure-
seekers, that fly from the hot atmosphere of the cities,
to find quiet and repose in the country. We entered
the Eacket again, and rowed quietly down some five
miles to Long Neak, a quiet little lake, beautiful but
differing entirely in its characteristics from Tupper's
Lake. Some half a mile below Tupper's Lake, the
river runs square against a solid wall of rocks, some
seventy feet in height, and extending near a quarter

A WILD CAT. 237

of a mile laterally, from which the current glauces
away at a right angle, and flows for a mile or more
through a natural meadow, which stretches away from
either shore, to the width of fifty or more rods, to the
Woods that bound it.

Long Neak is some four or five miles in length, by
one mile in width. At the upper end of the lake,
where the river enters, the land is high and bluff, while
in looking down towards the outlet, the eye falls upon
a wide, green, natural meadow, upon which stand
thick foliaged trees, and as you look upon it, you can-
not persuade yourself that you do not see a broad and
beautiful farm, with an extensive orchard and brave
old elms, left standing as shade trees, when the woods
were cleared away. But it is all wilderness, just as it
has been for thousands of years. We spent the day
on this lake, and encamped on its bank at night.

Just before daylight in the morning, Shack started
up suddenly from his bed at our feet, and dashed
furiously into the woods ; we heard him for a few
rods, in hot pursuit of something, and then a clamber-
ing, like some sharp-clawed animal, and we knew
whatever he had dashed out after, had taken to a tree.
We heard a low, intense growling up among the

238 HILLS AISTD LAKES.

branches, and. my guide, as he sprung to his feet, ex-
claimed, " It's a wild-cat."

This animal is not uncommon in these woods,
though we had not as yet happened to see one. We
cheered Shack on, and he sat barking at his game till
the morning broke, when we saw at some thirty feet
from the ground, stretched out along a great branch
of an elm, a catamount, — his great, round, gray eyes
watching, with intense malignity, his enemy below.
His head lay over on one side of the branch, and he
kept up a continued low growl. He would have been
more than a match for the dog, with his great claws
and sharp teeth, but he lacked courage to come down,
and have a fair fight on the ground. "When it was
light enough to make a sure thing of it, I drew up by
the side of a sapling, and aiming carefully at his skull,
fired ; he drew his head back, with a convulsive jerk,
between his fore feet, seemed to grasp, for a moment,
more closely the limb on which he was perched, and
then, as muscle after muscle relaxed, he rolled off, and
dropped heavily to the ground. As he struck the
earth, Shack was upon him ; but that was needless, —
he was dead. He was a small animal of his kind, —
five or six times larger than a house-cat, of gray, or

BOUND LAKE. 239

rather a brindle color, with a head large in proportion
to his body, and a tail some eight or nine inches long.

It was our intention originally to have traversed
the whole line of wilderness, laying between Clinton,
and the north of Herkimer counties, but we had dallied
long by the way, and concluded to turn back to the
foot of the Upper Saranac, and so out by the course
of the Saranac river. "We returned, therefore, to the
foot of Tupper's Lake, and re-embarked. We visited
the pigeon roost again on our way> and the evening
of the next day found us at the cabin of the half-breed,
on the bank of the little lake I have before spoken of.
He proffered me the use of his bed again ; but I had
had enough of that bed, and preferred one of boughs,
in a hastily^constructed shantee, on the lake shore.

The next morning we passed on to the foot of the
Upper Saranac, and re-embarking, paddled up some
two or three miles to the outlet ; this we followed,
and carrying our canoe a short distance round, or
rather down the rapids, entered Eound Lake. This
beautiful sheet of water, laying between the Upper and
Lower Saranac, is properly named, being nearly round,
and some ten or twelve miles in circumference.

Towards the north-east shore, and half a mile from

240 HILLS AND LAKES.

the main land, is an island of one or two hundred
acres. Here we landed, and gave Shack a chase after
a noble buck, that seemed to have appropriated the
island to himself. The third heat round the island,
he took to the water, and, by our permission, escaped
to the main land. He had a mighty sharp run of
about twenty minutes, and he won't forget, in a hurry,
his adventures of that day. We dined here on broiled
partridge, having for our desert wild strawberries that
grew on the island around us. After our siesta, we
started for the Lower Saranac, intending to pass the
night on an island, a mile or two from the upper end
of it.

" I mind a story old Pete Meigs told me," said
Tucker, as we floated down the lake, " of a thing he
saw once, over by the St. Eegis Lake, a great many
years ago, when he was out here alone in the woods.
I've told you before, he was an old man, almost, when
I was a boy, and he used to be away for weeks, and
may be for months, alone among the woods, and lakes,
and mountains of this wild region. He was a strange,
solitary man, and a gloomy one sometimes. There
was that in his history, that might well make him so,
as I'll tell you afore we get home. He had no wife,

THE PANTHER AND BEAR. 241

nor children, nor any near kindred, and I believe he
loved me mor'n he did all the rest of human kind.
He didn't hate, or dislike anybody but an Ingen, and
him he hated like pison, and well he might. If the
dark deep woods could speak, they'd tell, may be,
strange stories, of Ingens that crossed old Pete's trail
in the forest, and never got back to their wigwams.
But that was long, long ago, while the grass was
growin' on the graves of his father, and mother, and
sisters, and brother, massacred by the murderin' cusses,
and the thirst for vengc anee was rank in his heart.
But what I was goin' to tell you, is this :

" One day, he was passin' from St. Eegis to Big
Clear Pond, and in goin' over a ridge had sat down
on the trunk of a fallen tree to rest. As he sat there,
he heard a crashin' through the brush, as of some
animal, that seemed to be in a monstrous hurry to get
away from somethin' that he seemed to think, warn't
a great ways behind hLn. Presently a bear rushed
by him, over the ridge, gruntin' and talkin' to himself,
as is the way of the animal sometimes. He seemed to
be orfully afraid of something, but had no idea that old
Pete, and his rifle was around. Them, things warn't

very healthy for bears, and if that one had knowed

11

242 HILLS AND LAKES.

where they were, I've a notion twouldn't have quieted
his feelin's much. In less than a minute, the old man
heard the long bounds of another animal, comin' like
death on the trail of the bear, and a great painter,
with every hair towards his head, rushed like fury by
him, over the ridge in pursuit. Old Pete didn't feel
sorry just then, that the animal hadn't seen him, but
that didn't prevent his runnin' to the other side of the
ridge, to see the fight, that from the nater of things,
seemed sure to take place. Well, sure enough, about
forty or fifty rods down the side of the valley, where
the brush warn't thick enough to hide 7em, he saw Jem
come together. The bear, the old man said, saw
twasn't any use to run any further, and as the painter
came on, he sot himself upon his rump, and faced
him, and such a set of ivory as he showed, was a sight
to see. But twarn't no use ; the painter's back was
up, and without stoppin' to ask any questions, he
pitched in, and over, and over they went, down the
hill, the bear hollerin' and bitin', and the painter
screamin' and bitin' back, and tearin' with his long
claws. The fight didn't last a great while. The teeth
and claws of the painter, was altogether too much for
the bear, and twarn't many minutes till 'twas all over,

THE DEATH. 243

u» bear was dead enough. After the fight, the
painwt seemed satisfied, He warn't much hurt, and
fell to rollin' himself over and over, among the leaves,
and slidin' himself along on his sides, as you've seen
a dog do, to wipe the blood off his hide, and then fell
to licken' his legs and sides, and whatever other parts
of his body he could get at, to make himself look
decent and pioper again. Old Pete thought 'twas
time for him to take part in the fray ; so creepin' to
within shoofan' distance, he sighted the painter with his
long rifle, and j ulled. The animal sprung into the air,
and after tearin* the earth, and strugglin' and kickin',
lay still, and the old man took his hide, as well as that
of the bear, and went ahead. What the cause of the
quarrel between them two animals was, old Pete
couldn't find out, but it was pretty clear the bear had
been meddlin' with something that didn't concern
him, and got himself into a scrape that cost him his
life.

" A painter, Squire, is an animal that has an on-
pleasant way with him, when his back's up, and it's
well enough for everybody, and every animal, too, in
these wood, to keep out of his way, and give him all
the trail at such times, I never happened to see but

244 HILLS AND LAKES.

one, under such circumstances, and he was so disabled
he couldn't get at me. Both his hind legs was broke,
by a shot I gave him, but he told me plain enough,
that if he'd been well, 'twould have been an onpleasant
neighborhood for me. I've hearn tell of the lightnin'
in the eyes of a furious animal, and I reckon I saw it
in his, and glad enough I was, to stand back, out of
his reach. I settled him with a bullet through the
head. Unless provoked or starved, he won't med-
dle with a man. Let him alone, and he'll let you
alone. Like all other animals of his kind, he's got
more strength than courage, and unless cornered, don't
like to fight. I never feel afraid of painters. I've
shot a good many, first and last, but as a general
thing I shouldn't meddle with 'em unless I could have
a dead shot. Woundin' a painter, or a bear, is a bad
business, as I've heard, and I've let 'em escape afore
now, when I wasn't sure of killin' 'em at the first shot.
They're most all gone now, and it's only once in a
great while, that we hear of one. Five and twenty
years ago, vt warn't much of a thing to brag on, to
bring in the skin of a painter, or a bear. But they're
passin7 away, and it won't be long till we'll have to look
into history for an account of 'em, as well as of the

THE LAST OF THE GUIDES. 245

moose, and catamounts of the Shatagee country. The
Ingens are all gone, and the other wild things will fol-
low, and such men as old Pete Meigs and I, will be
gone too. People won't want a guide, for there won't
be forest enough to get lost in. It won't be any great
loss to the world, may be, we ain't of much practical
use ; and when our vocation's gone, we "von't be
wanted any longer,"

XXV.

THE GROWTH OF AMERICA. — ITS PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE. —
A WOODMAN'S IDEA OF EXPANSION.

WE rested for an hour, within the shadow of the
mountain, near the south-western margin of the
Lower Saranac. Though the day had been exceed-
ingly hot and sultry, it was delightfully cool and
pleasant here. The leaves stood still on the trees, and
no wave ruffled the bosom of the lake. The shore
was piled up with boulders, and the bottom, destitute
of grass and weeds, and covered with clean smooth
stones, shelved away into the deep waters, wherein we
could see, as we looked over the side of the canoe,
abundance of trout glancing and sporting beneath us.
We did not trouble them. We were too indolent,
and happy for that. I can conceive of no paradise, to
one who is pressed by no care, who loves quiet, who
has a taste for wild, natural scenery, like that of float-

THE PAST HISTORY OF AMERICA. 247

ing of an afternoon, along the shores of one of these
beautiful lakes, in the deep shadows which the hills
throw out upon the water, listening to the forest
sounds, breathing the pure air of the mountains, and
looking upon the green woods that stretch away, and
in receding upward seem to pierce the sky in the
distance.

" Squire," said my guide, " I've often thought that
this country was intended, one day, to make a great
noise among the nations of the airth. It has gone
ahead with such wonderful long strides, since it got
free from the hold that England had upon its neck,
and is pushin' forward so fast, that no man can calcu-
late when, or where it'll stop, I've read in books, and
hearn it told, by men who had studied into the matter,
that when G-INEKAL WASHINGTON had got through
with his fighting and sent his army home from the
wars, there wasn't more'n three millions of people in
all the United States, and that they were about as
poor as seven, or eight years of fightin', and other
troubles could make 'em. That there warn't any fac-
tories or machine-shops to speak of, in all the country.
That the States hadn't any ships on the ocean, and
not a water-craft on the great lakes. That there wasn't

248 HILLS AXD LAKES.

a canal in the whole country, and that the government
owed hundreds of millions of dollars, and hadn't the
first red cent to pay with.

That was a bad fix for a country to be in, Squire,
and he would have been a pretty bold man, who
would have ventured in them days, to foretell what a
wonderful change sixty-five years would bring about.
Call back, if such a thing could be, the spirit of one
of the men of the revolutionary times, and show him
what this country has become, and may be, he
wouldn't open his eyes some. Take him around the
country, and show him the swarmin' hosts of twenty-
five millions of people, in place of the three millions
he left, when he laid down in the grave. Take him
out on the sea, and show him the great ships of this
comrtoy, sailin' to every part of the world, loaded with
the goods of her merchants, and her tall war- vessels,
lookin' into every harbor of the ocean. Point out to
him her mills and her factories, standin' wherever a
stream comes down from the mountains, or a river
leaps over a precipice, the clank of their machinery,
minglin' with the roar of the waters. Tell him to look
upon the canals, broad as rivers, extendin' through
the great State of New York, from the tide waters,

ITS PRESENT HISTORY. 249

away to Lake Erie, and Lake Ontario, and old Cham-
plain, and show him the four or five thousand boats,
constantly movin' upon their waters. Point out to
him the tracks of the railroads, crossin' each other all
over the face of the country, like lines upon a checker-
board, and show him the iron horse dashin' away
with his long train of cars, thirty and may be forty
miles an hour, and let him hear his mighty scream.
Tell him to look upon the great rivers, and see the
gigantic steamboats movin' away, like a whole street
of a city, fifteen or twenty miles an hour, agin' wind
and tide. Tell him that every dollar of them hundreds
of millions, has been paid, and that mor'n forty mill-
ions have been divided among the States. Tell him
that the thirteen States, that he left behind him, have
come to be thirty-one. That some of them are away
down on the Gulf of Mexico, and one of 'em on the
other side of the Eocky Mountains. I reckon, when
he comes to understand all this, he'd be considerably
astonished, and would wonder how it could all have
happened.

It's a curious thing, Squire, to look back and see
how amazingly this country has gone ahead, and to

follow its trail, as it moved, like a giant, onward.

11*

250 HILLS AND LAKES.

Some fifty years ago, she opened the line fence that
was on the outside of her, and when it was built up
again, Florida and Louisiana, with their millions upon
millions of acres, land enough for half a dozen king-
doms, was on the inside of it. Another gap was
opened, four or five years ago, and the State of Texas
was fenced into the enclosure. Later still, the old line
fence was pulled away, and when it was built up
again, it had nearly as much again of territory inside
of it, as it had before, and all the wonderful gold
mines of Californy, in the bargain ; and now while she
holds fast to all this, she's talkin' about fencin' in
Cuba and the whole of Mexico, and lookin' on the
other side, even of them, to see what lays over there,
to be speculated on, when she's secured them.

" This country, Squire, ain't like any other country
in the world. Its airly history ain't like the history
of any other. Its first settlers warn't like the settlers
of any other, and its people ain't like any other people.
This warn't a country, when it was wild and nateral
like, that folks could come to, and live easy, and get
rich quick. There warn't any gold or silver mines, to
fill their money-bags with, nor weak people to be
plundered of their wealth, nor rich nations to be

THE EARLY SETTLERS. 251

spoiled. The only people that were here, were the
savage Ingens, that lived in the woods like wolves,
and all the property they had to be plundered of, were
their bows and arrows. Tbe great forests stood just
where they were from the beginnin' of time, stretchin'
away and away, hundreds of miles from the sea.
Them great forests had to be chopped away, tree by
tree, and cleared off, for the growth of grain. That
was a mighty labor, Squire, that lay before the airly
settlers of this country. Weak men couldn't perform
it, and lazy men wouldn't. It was a job that men
who loved their ease, and didn't like work, wouldn't
undertake. It took stout-hearted men to face that
work, and the dangers and hardships of this country,
two hundred years ago, and courageous ones too.
The tomahawk and the scalpin' knife, were things that
had an unpleasant look in timid men's eyes, and they
kept out of sight of 'em.

" The men that left their birth-places, and the old
homes they loved so well, and swung out on the ocean,
to seek on this side of the great waters, a dwellin'
place in the wilderness, were strong minded, workin
men. They were men of iron frames, and iron consti

I

tutions, and of iron wills too. They were courageous,

252 HILLS AND LAKES.

fearless men} who could face danger, and battle with
hardships. They were God-fearing men, who brought
the Bible and the religion of their fathers with them.
They fell to work on the ancient forest trees, and
every blow they struck, told them of their own worth.
As those old forest trees, that the storm could not
bend, nor the whirlwind break, came crashin' and
thunderin' to the ground, before the strength of their
arms, each one, as it fell, told the story of their power.
The acres they cleared, and the crops planted by their
hands, as they waved in the summer winds, preached
to them of the dignity of human labor, and the value
of the men, who could change the wilderness into a
fruitful field. As years rolled on, and the fields
pushed back the woods further and further, they
looked, with a just pride, upon the victory they had
gained over nater. The very dangers, and trials, and
hardships they had to go through, made them rely
upon themselves, trustin' not to kings or princes for
protection, but to their own right arms, and the good
Providence that watched over 'em. The laws of Old
England were well enough for the cities and towns,
and thickly -peopled country, but they warn't fitted for
the woods and the forests, and the new clearin's of

THE PEOPLE. 253

America. They wouldn't answer for a country in its
infancy, just snatched, as one might say, from the
hand of nater, and the hardy settlers had to make new
ones for themselves. They went on legislatin' and
legislatin' accordin' to their necessities, till at last they
learned the great fact, that an honest people could
govern themselves, without the aid of kings, and
princes, and lords, and sich like expensive contriv-
ances. The skulkin' Ingens made them watchful.
Every man had his musket or his rifle, to protect
himself and his family agin' the murderin' cusses. He
took his fire-arms with him to the field, when he went
to labor, and to the church, when he went to meetin'.
In this way every man became a soldier, and, while
he protected himself, and helped to protect his neigh-
bor, he kept on clearin' away the woods, and pushin'
forward the fields, and tillin' the ground, and makin'
himself useful, beyond carryin' a gun, and livin' in
idleness upon other people's labor. In this way they
found out another great fact, that standin' armies
were a useless contrivance, and cost more than they
were worth. As they went on, they found it neces-
sary to have officers to carry out the laws they made,
and as every man in the settlements was known, they

254 HILLS AND LAKES.

chose their best men as their rulers. They got to-
gether, and agreed who should be their governors, and
sheriffs, and justices of the peace, and constables. In
this way they came to the knowledge of yet another
great fact, that they could get along best by always
choosin' their own rulers. Now, Squire, it was a
nateral thing for men, who had swept away the old
primeval forests, and spread out broad farms, where
before they came, was a great wilderness, when they
looked upon the wonderful labor they had performed,
I say it was a nateral thing, that they should form a
pretty good opinion of themselves, and feel about
equal to any king on his throne, or any lazy lord in
his palace. When they thought of the savage Ingens
they had overcome, the dangers they had passed
through, without the aid of the country they came
from, it was a nateral thing that they should feel a
sturdy independence, that didn't ask any favors of
anybody. You see, Squire, how the people who of
old built up the government of this country, begun at
the bottom, away back at the beginnm'. They learned
the great lesson of self-government, of republicanism,
from its ABC. They warn't a people that had been
ground down by hard task-masters, till their ambition

THEIR INDEPENDENCE. 255

and spirit was all gone, and then rose up, only because
human nater could bear no more. Their indepen-
dence wasn't brought about by a spirit maddened by
wrongs, and thirstin' for vengeance, nor did they take
up self-government and republicanism, because kings
and lords had oppressed them. They began when
they were few and weak, and hadn't any great kings
or lords to take care of 'em. They were bound to-
gether by common necessities and common dangers.
Their form of government was a thing they couldn't
help. They studied republicanism without knowin'
it, and because they couldn't help it. They went on,
takin' care of themselves and providin' for themselves,
till they didn't know or think of any other way of
gittin' along at all, and when they got to be great and
strong, they couldn't change their habits, and go back
to kingly rule. Their independence was the nateral
consequence of their situation, and they were repub-
licans, because, when they first went into the wilder-
ness, they couldn't be anything else. They hadn't any
king, and there warn't any way of making one, and
they got along so well without him, that they found
out he warn't of any use any how.

" I'm thinkin', Squire, 'twas a good thing for the

256 HILLS AND LAKES.

world, that the seed of our kind of government should
have been sown away off in the wilderness, three thou-
sand miles from the old kingly governments, where it
could take root in a nateral way, and grow up regular,
till it got to be strong. If the old kings of Europe
had known that there was a young giant over the
ocean, sleepin' off here in the forests, and knowd that
his joints were knittin', and his bones and muscles
growin' in strength, and that he would one day rise
up, and snatch the richest jewels from some of their
crowns, they'd have taken some considerable pains to
strangle him in his cradle. But they didn't know it,
and the young giant himself didn't know the strength
he was gathering and he grew on, till 'twas thought
he could be harnessed into servitude. Then he reared
himself like a giant, as he was, and defied the world.

" JSTow, Squire, the people that settled this country
were of the kind to push ahead and keep movin'.
They did such great and wonderful things in con-
vertin' the wilderness into green fields, that they took
up the notion that there warn't anything that they
couldn't do. They learned their children to march
on. March on, has been the word for more than two
hundred years, and it will be the word for two hun-

THEIR INFLUENCE. 257

dred yeais more. This country is young and healthy,
with a sound constitution, and hain't got any chronic
disease about it, and it can't do anything else but
march on. It hain't got its growth yet, by a long
shot. It ain't done fillin' up with people, nor spreadin'
out sideways either. It will keep on extendin' and
extendin, till God only knows where its outside line
will finally be. Our people are an ambitious people,
proud of their government and their liberty. They've
got a way of makin' the people of other countries free,
whether they choose to be free or not. If they don't
like it, 'tis said to be because they ain't used to it, and
don't know what's for their good. I've a notion that
the time will come, when all America will be one
great brotherhood of States, livin' under a common
government, and the same institutions."

XXVI.

MANIFEST DESTINY. — YOUNG AMERICA ON THE MOVB.

" WELL," said I, " Tucker, you are making up a
pretty extensive government. This bringing a whole
continent under a common rule, will be trying a haz-
ardous experiment. Will there be no danger of your
great Kepublic falling to pieces, from its own weight,
and will it not be troubled by the discordant elements
that you would bring together ?"

" Squire," he replied, " it would take a wiser, and
more larned man than me, to argy them pints, so as
to make 'em plain to a doubtin' mind. I've a notion
they are pints that can't be made very clear by any-
body, larned or simple, till the experiment, as you
call it, has been tried. I've thought, and studied
about the things you speak of, a good deal, and have
made up my own mind in regard to them, though,

THE UNION. 259

may be I couldn't make any body else believe as I do
myself, and I don't mean to try. I'm of too little ac-
count in the world, to undertake to change things, and
so I let 'em move on ; but I'll tell you what I think,
because you won't say I'm conceited, or laugh at my
simple idees.

" The States that made up this government, as I
said before, were once very small and weak, and were
a great ways apart, considerin' the means people had
of gettin' about in them days. They were under dif-
ferent governors and rulers, jist as the different nations
on this continent, now are. "When trouble came upon
them, they united together agin' the strong power of
England, and when they broke loose from that power,
they agreed to go on together still. The States didn't
surrender their independence when they formed the
Union. They didn't become one great consolidated
government, except so far as the outside world was
concerned. In everything that related to other na-
tions, such as makin' treaties, and carryin' on wars,
and regulatin' commerce, and sich matters, they were
one government. Them things, with a good many
other things, concernin' the general welfare, the States
surrendered to the general government, because they

260 HILLS AND LAKES.

couldn't get along any other way. But each. State
was, for all that, independent of every other State,
and of all the other States, and of the general govern-
ment too, so far as its own particular affairs was con-
cerned. It made its own laws, and elected its own
governors, and other officers, without bein' answerable
to the general government at all. It was, so far as its
own matters, and all that related to the rights of its
own people and the management of its own affairs
was concerned, just as independent as England, or
any other nation in the world. Well, when the Union
was thus formed, all the old statesmen of Europe,
laughed in their sleeves at the cob-house, they thought
the Americans were buildin' up, and they laid their
fingers on their noses, and winked at one another, as
much as to say, ' see how quick it'll tumble to pieces.'
It was a new thing to 'em, and so different from their
notions of government, and so onlike anything they'd
ever seen or heard tell of, or read about in books, that
they looked to see it go down, in no time. But it
didn't go down. It went on prosperin' and growin'
stronger and stronger, and multiplyin' and increasing
and spreadin' out in a way that was surprisin' to the
wise men of the old world. The thirteen States came to

EXTENSION OF TEREITOEY. 261

be fifteen, or sixteen, and then Louisiana and Florida
were taken in, and then 'twas said the Union would go
down, sure. 'Twas said by the pretended prophets,
that Florida was Spanish, and Louisiana was French,
and both were Catholic, and that there would be a dis-
turbance right off* But the Union didn't go down, and
there wasn't any disturbance. The fifteen or sixteen
States went on increasin' to twenty, and then twenty-
five, and so on till Texas came in, and then there was a
talk about the cob-house goin' down agin. But it stood
up stronger than ever. The United States took a great
slice from Mexico, and divided it into territories, and
a State, and them thirteen States, have come to be
thirty -one, and in two or three years will be thirty-
five, and there hain't been any disturbance among
Jem yet, and there's no signs of there bein' any. There
ain't a joint weakened, nor any screw loosened that I
can see, anywhere. Everthing moves on, just as
smooth and regular, as it did sixty years ago, when
there warn't but thirteen States, and four or five mill-
ions of people all told. Now, Squire, if them thirteen
States could grow to be thirty-one, and double the ter-
ritory they had at the beginning, without bein' weak*
ened by it, I don't s~ee why the thirty-one can't grow

262 HILLS AKD LAKES,

to be a hundred States, and spread out to any extent
without fallin' to pieces, You see, Squire, the States,
though no great things, considered separately, are in-
dependent governments, makin' their own laws, and
choosin' their own officers, each acting for itself, so far
as its own affairs are concerned, without askin', or
consultin' any power on airth. But when anything
turns up from abroad, they all go together. The gen*
eral government, backed by the concentrated strength
of all the States actin' together as one, is a mighty
power, and will be mightier still, as every new State
comes into the Union, and outsiders will think twice
before they cross its trail, This gives the States a se*
curity, and protection from other nations, that they
couldn't enjoy out of the Union.

" Suppose Mexico should become a portion of this
government, and with her half dozon States, run up
the stars and stripes, what would she lose by it, and
what could she find to complain of? Each one of
them States, would make its own laws, choose its own
governors and judges, and all other officers, and send
its own members to Congress. Each would be just as
independent as York State is. The general government
couldn't and it wouldn't interfere with it, for such inter-

THE ANNEXATION OF MEXICO. 263

ference would be steppin' on the toes of every other State
in the Union, and they'd all jine in puttin' a stop to it,
about the quickest. Mexico wouldn't lose anything,
by coming into the Union. And see what she'd gain.
Everybody knows she ain't of much account now,
among the nations. She hasn't got any navy to speak
of; and her army, tho' it makes a great deal of noiss
and disturbance, and a good deal of trouble at home,"
don't scare anybody on the outside of her. England or
France, or any other of the great powers that want
anything of Mexico, sends down there a great war-
vessel, with cannon looking out of its sides. The
captain dickers, and argues, about the matter in hand,
while the sailors are polishin' up the big guns, and
trainin' them for use. Mexico sees what is goin' on,
and takes the hint, and gives in,

" Now bring Mexico into the Union, and I'd like
to know which of the great powers would undertake
such a trick as that. I'd like to know which of 'em
would undertake to dictate to her, or tell her what she
must do. If a war*vessel was sent down there, Uncle
Sam would have one along side of her, and there'd
be more polishin' of guns than would be done by the
British. They'd find somebody just as sassy, and just

264 HILLS AND LAKES.

as ready for a scrimmage, and that could strike just
as hard, as themselves, and no mistake. There
wouldn't be any struttin' about, and talkin' big, and
threatening' to raise cain, generally, and if there was,
there would be somebody on the other side, rollin' up
their sleeves, and showin' a pretty big bunch of bones,
that could hit hard, when blows come to be the order
of the day. The States of Mexico could go on,
workin' their mines, and improvin' their people, and
takin' care of their inside affairs, while the general
government would see that nobody troubled them
from without. Now, Squire, I don't see why Mexico
wouldn't be happier, and more prosperous, and better
off every way, inside of the Union, than she is out of
it. She'd have her own home legislator, and govern-
ment, and am equal voice with the same number of
people of New York, in the general government. It's
my opinion, when once fairly in, you couldn't drive
her out without resortin' to a much greater amount of
oppression and wrong, than can be practiced under
our form of government. What would be thus true
of Mexico, would be true of all the other govern-
ments, down to South America. 'Twould be so much
to their interest to be inside of the line fence, that it's

MANIFEST DESTINY. 265

my belief they'd be very glad to stay, when they got
into the enclosure. The principles that have kept the
States together thus far; that holds the thirty -one
States under a common government, are strong
enough, and broad enough, to keep a hundred States
together — and that if our form of government will
answer for the territory we've got now, it'll answer for
all North America, and may be for South America,
too."

"Why," said I, "Tucker, you're a < manifest des-
tiny' man, and go with the ' Young America' party."

" I ain't a politician," he replied, " and don't be-
long to any party. I make it a pint always to vote, if
it's only to keep me in mind that I'm a free man, and
entitled to a voice in makin' the onlcerBj and laws by
which I'm to be ruled. I've heafn a good many peo-
ple talk about the country bein' in danger, and the
Union unsafe. I neve? believed a word of it, I've
hearn them talk larnedly about the trouble, that
might be looked for, from spreadin' out so fast. I
never believed a word of that. This country has
been spreadin' out, from tha time the white man's axe
hewed down its first forest tree, and every acre that's

been added to it, has made it stronger. So I say the

12

266 HILLS AND LAKES.

country ain't in danger, nor the Union unsafe, and
won't be for two hundred years to come.

" I mind when Gineral Jackson, Old Hickory, as
we called him, was runnin' for President, we all went
for him in these parts, because he beat the British,
and whipped the cussed red-skins. There was a
meetin' down to Plattsburgh, and a man came over
from Yarmount, to speak to the people. He was a
tonguey fellow, and spoke like a book. He talked
about the tariff, and the bank, and protection to
American labor, and a hundred other things, that he
said General Jackson would make a smash of, and
wound up by tellin' about this glorious Union bein'
in danger, and how it would go to ruin, if the Gineral
was elected President, and called upon every honest
man to go agin' him. Old Pete Meigs was at the
meetin', and I never saw him so riled in my life as he
was, to hear the Gineral spoken agin'. When the
Varmounter got through, the old man got onto a bench,
to answer him. He warn't, as you may suppose, any
great shakes at speech -makin', and I don't believe he
ever tried it on, but that once, but he had a good deal
of nateral sense in him, and could shoot pretty near
the mark, whei his back was up. l Look here,

SAFETY OF THE UNION. 267

Mistei ' lie roared, 'didn't Gineral Jackson lick the
murder, i' Seminoles, and bring the red cusses to their
marrow bones, and make them beg like dogs? An-
swer tre that.' The Varmounter couldn't get bye
givin' in to that. 'Didn't he lick the British,' he
went OQ, 'at New Orleans, and send the red-coats,
that he didn't knock on the head, scamperin' home,
carryin' their Gineral with 'em in a puncheon of
rum ?' This, too, the Varmounter couldn't deny.
' Then,' said old Pete, ' the man that says the country
won't be safe, with Old Hickory, who larruped the
Ingens, and whipped the British, as President, is a
lyin' deceivin' cuss ; and now, boys,' he continued,
' all of you that go in for the old soldier, off hats and
hurrah for Jackson.' Squire, you ought to have
hearn the hurrah that followed. May be the house
didn't shake much with the shout that went up, and
old Pete had to drink more'n once that night, on ac-
count of the speech he made. Well, Old Hickory
was elected, and the country is safe, and the Union as
strong as ever. The truth is, the Union seems to get
shaky, and require savin' about as often as the election
of President comes round, and it always is saved,
somehow or other, no matter which party comes out

268 HILLS AKB

ahead* It has a way of savin' itself, or, may be, it is
always saved, because 'twarn't never in danger. I
say again, I don't belong to any party, but I vote
every year for the men I like best ; not to help save
the Union, but because I'm proud of the right of
votin', and regard it as a duty to exercise it. It's a
privilege that poor men don't enjoy in many countries*
" And now, Squire, you spoke of a party called
5 Young America*' I never heard the name afore,
that I know of, but it is an expressive one, and I sup*
pose it means the party that's in favor of goin' ahead,
branchin' out, and of movin' the outside fence farther
off every wayj and, as I heard a man say once, ex-
tendin' the area of freedom. Wellj a great deal of
wrong may be done by such a party, if it's ambitious,
and don't stop to inquire about the rights of the coun-
tries and people it desires to fence in. If it thinks to
go on> because this country is strong, and able to do
what it's a mind to, with nations weaker than itself,
and to use its strength by forcin' the choice, and com-
pellin' the will of its neighbors, then ' Young America'
is a hurtful party, and I'm agin* it. But if it's a party
that simply means to extend the country, by fair
ways, by lettin' all come in that want to, and per

YOUNG AMERICA. 269

suadin' as many as it can to do so, if it's a party that
ain't afraid of spreadin' oat, and holds to the belief
that our form of government is able to sustain the
weight and size of all North America, and that seeks
by honest means to give it that extent, and is willin'
to try what you call the experiment of a government
embracin' so much, then it's a good party, and I go in
for it."

XXVII.

THE LOWER SARANAC. — THE BALD EASLK. — UMBRELLA ISLAND.—-
BALL-- FACE MOUNTAIN. — MOUNT MARCT.

THE Lower Saranac is smaller than the Upper
Lake, and like it, has several beautiful islaads. We
found no deer, on the one on which we bivouacked
that night, but a partridge, and a large gray squirrel,
and some fine trout, together with the heavy biscuit
procured at the half-breed's, made a comfortable sup-
per. Towards sundown, we saw a long wake in the
water, made by something swimming from the shore
of the main land towards the island. Its progress was
slow, and, whatever it was, was too small and low in
the water to be distinctly seen. We watched it, how-
ever, until it landed, and it proved to be a gray squir-
rel that had swam over, perhaps on a visit, to the one
we had just made a supper upon. It is no uncommon
thing for these little animals, when the lake is calm,

A BALD EAGLE 271

to swim to and from these islands. I remember, when
I was a boy, to have caught more than one black
squirrel, in the crooked lake, that had essayed to
swim across it. a distance of nearly or quite a mile j
and I have seen many carcasses of those that had been
drowned in the effort, and drifted ashore.

In a little bay at the north end of the lake, we
spent the night. This bay contains perhaps a hun-
dred acres, and from the beach you look away south,
through a narrow opening between the hills, till the
view is lost among the clustering islands of this beau-
tiful sheet of water. The morning was still and pleas-
ant, the air genial and bracing, as we started out from
the bay towards an island, some three or four miles
distant. The lake was placid and calm, and save
where the trout leaped from the water, or the wake of
our boat, that stretched in a long line of light behind
us, on which the morning sunbeams danced, no ripple
disturbed its surface. On a dry tree, that stood on
one of the points that stretched lakeward, forming the
lit Lie*' bay, sat a bald eagle. I hoped to get near
enough to bring him down with my rifle ; but his
keen eye was wide open, and before I got within
shooting distance, he leaped upward from his perch,

272 HILLS AKD LAKES.

stretched his broad wings, and soared majestically
away. Nearest the foot of the lake, and just outside
the bay, are two beautiful islands, called The Sisters.
They contain perhaps an acre each, and are covered
with a thick growth of evergreens.

As we rowed along up the lake, we trailed a long
line behind us, trolling for the lake-trout. At length
the bait was seized by what, to me, was a monster fish,
and I reeled him in on a line of a hundred and fifty
feet. He struggled and floundered, and leaped from
the water, and dove again for the bottom, — went
skiving away to the right and left, in his hard battle
for life, — but the hook was in his jaw, and after a fight
of nearly half an hour, he lay exhausted in the boat, a
lake-trout of five pounds in weight. This is not the
season for trolling, and we caught no more in this
way. In the middle of the lake rises a barren rock,
standing all alone, treeless and shrubless, lifting its
bare head some twenty or thirty feet from the water.

Off to the right, and at a quarter of a mile distant,
is Umbrella Island, which takes its name from a aingu-
lar tree standing near its centre. This island is cov-
ered with low green trees, but from the midst of which
shoots up a tall pine, its trunk straight and bare, some

BALL-FACE MOUNTAIN. 273

fifty feet above the surrounding foliage, and then
spreads out in a broad evergreen tuft, like an um-
brella. This curious tree may be seen for miles,
standing there solitary and alone, like a giant among
pigmies, and, not inaptly, gives a cognomen to the
little island above which it towers.

Away off to the north-east, miles and miles away,
the mountain peaks are seen, moveless and solemn,
like vast pillars sustaining the sky. Conspicuous and
tallest among them is the Ball-face Mountain. This
gigantic peak seems to be everywhere present. You
see it from Keeseville, seemingly between you and
the Saranacs. You see it from " The Forks," twelve
miles up the Au Sable, apparently in the same place
and at about the same distance. It is before you still,
when you cross the high table land, ten miles further
on. It looks down upon you from the Franklin Falls,
another ten miles further west. It is in plain sight
here, five and twenty miles west again. You see it as
you are floating on Tapper's Lake, still another thirty
miles west, and you rejoice that you have weathered
the giant, that seems to be watching you all the long
day. This lofty peak goes up from a range of moun-
tains, which lays between the sources of the Saranac

274 HILLS AND LAKES.

and those of the Au Sable, further north and west
than the Adirondacks proper. Beyond this range lay
the Adirondacks, and dim and shadowy, looming
darkly in the haze, are seen Mount Marcy, Mount
Seward, and other less notable peaks. These stand
away off behind the ridge spoken of, like tall gren-
adiers, looking over the front ranks of small combat-
ants, overtopping all, save the tall old " white-faced"
commander. He stands out always, like Saul among
the prophets, from his shoulders upward, taller than
his fellows. On one of the islands we found a deer,
which Shack coursed at his best speed, twice around
the island. The third heat it took to the water, and
we put out in our canoe after it, but on overtaking it,
we found it to be a doe, the lean condition of which,
indicated that it had a fawn to provide for, and we
left it unharmed, and turned back. The animal
seemed glad enough to part company with us, and we
saw it look back as it ascended the bank on the main
land; as if saying, that our absence was vastly more
agreeable than our company.

In the afternoon, having drawn our canoe from
the water, and concealed it in a thicket, we bid good-
bye to the Saranac lakes, and struck off north-west,

COLEBY'S POND. 275

towards Coleby's Pond, or Lake. This lake is some
two or tlireo miles distant from the Lower Saranac.
We found a canoe at the head of a little bay that ex-
tended landward, beneath the branches of some old
elms that formed a green arch over the water, shutting
out the sun-light, and making an arbor as delightfully
cool and sweet, as the imagination can conceive. These
little bays, are the most beautiful spots in nature.
There is a romantic sort of pleasure in letting the
water-craft, in which you are seated, float away into
one of them, in the heat of the day, and beneath the
branches of the brave old trees, whose spreading arms
and clustering foliage give you a shade that a Houri
might envy, light your segar, and give yourself up to
the luxury of repose.

In the night, we shot a fine young deer, as he was
feeding in the water. This pond, or lake, is some
three or four miles in circumference, and, like all the
other lakes in this region, abounds in trout. The
weather continuing exceedingly warm and sultry, we
felt in no hurry to leave this beautiful sheet of water.
It was the last of the series, and we resolved to re-
main quiet, for a day or two, and as Tucker expressed
it, take things easy.

276 HILLS AND LAKES.

"I've been thinkin', Squire," said he, " 'twould be
a pleasant thing, for you city people, to spend one of
the hot months, every season, off here among these
lakes and mountains, in a quiet way, huntin' andfishin/
and lookin' about just enough to keep nater a goin' ;
sleepin' on green boughs at night, and sweatin' among
the hills in the day time. There's no pestilence in the
pure air of this region, and a few weeks out here in
the woods, would drive out all the seeds of disease,
planted in the system by the foul atmosphere of the
cities. 'Twould drive away that sallow paleness, from
the faces of your young men, and make 'em strong.
People keep good hours, in the woods. They go to
roost with the birds, when the darkness comes down,
and they're up as soon as the stars go out, and they
see the sun rise in the mornin'. They ain't spendin'
their nights at the theatres, and clubs, drinkin' cold
punch, and smokin7 cigars, and doin' a hundred other
things that bring on old age afore its time, instead of
layin' themselves quietly away to rest ; and then they
don't swelter all night in the bad air of a close room,
that the morning breeze never looks into, and their
lungs ain't poisoned by the smoke and vapor of ten
thousand cookin' stoves, and forges, and machine-

A SICK MAK. 277

shops, and gas fixens, and sich contrivances. There's
no crowded rooms off here in the woods, and the air
a man breathes at night, hain't been breathed already,
by his neighbor in the next bed. It's a big sleej in'
room, we've got otlt here. Its rafters rest on the
peaks of the mountains, the sky is its coverin', and
the curtains are all spangled over with stars. It's open
all round. The fresh breeze of the mornin', fans the
face of the sleeper, and he gets a taste of all the pure
air that's goin.' We ain't pisoned by the cookery,
and don't stuff ourselves beyond nater with rich food.
We eat when we're hungry, and what we eat we catch,
ourselves. We ain't troubled with dispepsy, and wild
game don't hurt us. Now, Squire, I've a notion that
a month spent among these lakes and streams is worth
more to an ailin' man, than a dozen of doctors, and a
bushel of pills.

" I mind, once, five or six years ago, a man came
up from Philadelphy, and wanted, as he said, to get
into the woods, so as to be out of the way of the
doctors. He looked gaunt and lean enough, and his
bones stuck out, like an old buck's, at the end of a
hard winter. His food troubled him, and he didn't
relish it, either. His sleep troubled him, and he

278 HILLS AND LAKES.

didn't get an overstock of that. Well, be s'ayed
around Plattsburgh two or three days, and happenin'
to hear me, one da3r, when I was down there, teliin'
about the Shatagee Lakes, he hired me to go with him
for a week. We went over to the Shazee first, and
and lived there for a week, on venison and trout, and
such fixens as we took along. At the end of that
time, he began to feel like a new man, and he sent me
back, for another packload of biscuit and pork. We
went over to Bradley's Lake, and so down to the
Shatagee. We visited Eagged Lake, and Ingen Lake,
and cruised about for a month. He growed better
and smarter, every day. His strength kept a comin',
and his lean cheeks filled up, and his eyes lost their
sickly look, and he came out a new man. He'd
gained mor'n thirty pounds of flesh. He could di-
gest a brick-bat, and what he eat warn't never heard
of again. He paid me as a guide and then doubled
my fee as a doctor. He said my medicine was the
cheapest, and best he ever took. 'Twas the pure air
of the mountains, and stirrin' about, and sweaten',
and sleeping on hemlock boughs, and goin' to bed
airly, and gettin' up airly, and washin' and swimmin'
in the cool water night and mornin,' and huntin' and

THE WOODS. 279

fishin*. This was my medicine, and the best of it was,
there wasn't anything oupleasant, in the takin' of it.
Now Squire, I say again, this kind of medicine is
better for an ailin' mao, or one that ain't ailin', than
all the poticary stuff in creation, and I wonder that
more people who live in the crowded cities, don't try
it. I've a notion 'twould be specially good for lawyers
and scholars, and ministers, who sit in their offices
studyin' and writin', or in the crowded courts, breathin'
the bad air, and swelterin' in heated rooms ; 'twould
make their heads clearer, and their bodies stronger ;
'twould save them from a deal of bad feelin's, and
keep them from bein' poisoned, by the doctors. But
'tain't no use to preach this doctrine, to people raised in
the cities. They're in such a hurry to make money, to
push ahead and get rich, and have so many irons in
the fire, that they've no time to spend off in the woods,
alone with nater, or in takin' care of their bodies.
Besides, half of 'ern, don't know, anything about
what's outside the corporation. They never saw a
lake, and think the woods is full of rattlesnakes, to
bite 'em, and painters and wolves to devour them, or
Ingens to scalp 'em, and that if they get outside of
the clearins', they're done for, sure. All that, is a

280 HILLS AND LAKES.

great folly, Squire, and their pale faces and gray hairs,
that come before their time, ought to tell 'em so.

11 And yet, it was a wonderful wisdom, Squire,
that made such a great difference in the likes, and dis-
likes of men. If everybody in the world was like
you and me, and loved the woods, and to be away off
in the deep forests, there wouldn't be much game left
in these parts, or a great many fishes, in these lakes
and streams. The hills and valleys, would swarm
with people, and there wouldn't be much elbow room,
for you and me. I, may be, meet a man who lives in
in a city, or great town, who hasn't got any likin' for
the back settlements, or no taste for the woods, who
never looks at land, unless to find out what it's worth
by the acre, whose estimation of a mountain stream,
is regulated by the amount of machinery it'll carry,
and whose regard for a lake, is measured by the pros-
pect of converting it into a millpond. Now, such a
man wouldn't leave nater, anywhere, one of the nateral
features of her old-fashioned face. He wouldn't leave
a deer in the forest, nor a trout in all the streams.
He'd convert the old trees into cordwood, and these
narrow valleys into sheep pastures. He'd lay up these
boulders into fences, or pile them up like hay-stacks.

RICHES vs. HAPPINESS. 28j

He calculates that time is money, and spendin' a few
days among these hills and lakes, he'd regard as a reck-
less waste, like the waste of a man who spends his dollars
in card-play in', horse-racin,' cock-fightin', and drinkin,'
and spreein' them away. He wouldn't enj oy himself
here at all, because his heart wouldn't be among the
hills and lakes. Well, may be, he looks at me, and
wonders that I don't seem onhappy and sorrowful,
away off here, on what he regards as the outside of
creation, and, may be, pities my forlorn condition.
He wonders how I can content myself in this region,
where there ain't any paved streets, and carriages, and
carts, and stores, and fine houses, and thousands of
people. He thinks in his heart, I'm a poor ignorant
creeter, and that my lot in life is a hard one. Well,
he's right enough in thinkin' I'm poor and ignorant,
but if he'd give me his fine house and his carriage, and
all his rich goods, and ask me to live cooped up in
the city, listenin' to the dull sounds that come up from
the streets and the work-shops, and all the other manu-
factories of noises, and breathin' the stenches, and foul
air, that comes up from the filthy places, everywhere
around him, I wouldn't look at it. My lot in life
ain't half as hard as Irs, and I'd tell him so. I'm a

282 HILLS AND LAKES.

free man, I'm no slave to business, nor to wealth, nor
to the customs of the world around me. I've got all
I want to make me comfortable, accordin' to my
notions of comfort. I've got a wife that sticks by me,
and children that loves me, tho' they don't make any
fuss over me, nor any parade of their feelin's.

" I've got my rifle, and a canoe on most all of
these lakes, and I've got an honest dog to go with me.
I go where I please, and when I please. When I take
to the woods, I've no business to suffer while I'm
gone, nor distress my mind, while I'm away in the
forest. You see, Squire, my lot ain't a hard one, as I
understand it, and if it suits me nobody need com-
plain. I've hearn it said, that it takes all kinds of
people to make up a world, and I believe it. If a rich
man is happy in his wealth, I don't envy him. It's
his way. If a great man is happy in his greatness, 1
don't envy him. It's his way too. Such people may
stand on one edge of society ; somebody is needed on
the other, to make things balance, and I'm content to
be that man. Every man's lot, Squire, is hard or
easy, accordin' as he himself understands it. A man
can be happy and enjoy life, without bein' rich, or
wise, or high, in office. Wealth is a good thing for

ENJOYMENT or LIFE. 288

them that desire it. Wisdom is a great thing, too, but
for all that, rich men and wise men ain't always happy
men, nor their lot in life the easiest. Now Pm rich,
because I'm contented with what I've got. I'm rich
for another reason. I live just as I want to live, and
just as I like to. My way of livin' suits me, and all
the wealth of the world, and all the larnin' of the
schools, wouldn't better my condition, or make me
any happier by day, nor sleep any better at night.
Never pity a poor man, Squire, who isn't hungry or
cold, and is contented with his lot. That's pity thrown
away. It does nobody any good. I've been around
among poor people a good deal, — not the poor, and
the ragged, and starvin' people, that live like pigs,
huddled together and mixed up in dirty rooms, and
in the filthy streets of the cities, but the poor people
of the back settlements of the new country, and let
me say to you, Squire, them hard-workin' people ain't
objects of pity. They enjoy life as much, and are as
happy, accordin' to their ways, as the richest man in
the cities, or the wisest man either. They laugh, and
sing, and joke, and are as merry as the best. If their
food ain't as rich and dainty as yourn, they've a better

284 HILLS AND LAKES.

appetite for it, and that makes up the difference. If
their clothes ain't as fine as yourn, it keeps them
warm, and that's all the rich man's can do. They
sleep better at night, because they've got no cares to
trouble 'em, and they don't get up with &, head- ache in
the morning, on account of dyspepsy, for their labor
keeps up digestion.

"Don't understand me, Squire, as believin' that
riches, and larnin' and wisdom ain't to be sought after,
nor that everybody should be like the people of the
back settlements I've been speakin' about. I wouldn't
have everybody like me either. The world would be
in a bad fix, if it was so. I'd have everybody go
ahead, everywhere. I'd have all the world try to be-
come wise, and larned, and rich, and be polished and
genteel, and I'd push good society as far towards the
back settlements as I could, or as the fitness of things
would allow. I send my children to school, and tell
'em to get all the larnin' they can, and be wiser, and
better, and have more property than their father ever
had. But, as I said afore, it takes all sorts of people
to make up a world. You've got your place in it, and
I've got mine, and I'm goin' to stay where I am, be-

SOCIAL PBOGRESS. 285

cause I like it, though I own I'd like to see my chil-
dren a step or two above me, and, if I lived long
enough* to see their children a step or two above them*
That's! rn y idee of progress*"

XXVIII.

THE STORT or OLD PETE MEIOS. — THS MASSACRE, A.ND IHE RETRI-
BUTION THAT FOLLOWED.

" I SAID the other day," said Tucker, " I'd tell you
afore we got home, the story of old Pete Meigs' early
life, and I'll do it now. It wasn't a thing he liked to
talk about, and he never spoke of it to me but once.
I said the other day, he was a strange and solitary
man, and a gloomy one sometimes. He had places in
the woods he always seemed to like better than any-
where else, and the St. Regis Lake was one of 'em.
He would stay round there for days and weeks, and
he seemed to look on it as his home in the summer
months. It was one day, while we were paddlin'
along the shore, round the base of the steep hill, that
he told me the story of his young days, and the things
that hung like a dark shadow and a desolation over

BlRTSPLACE OF PETE MEIGS. 28?

his whole life, that made him onlike other folks, a
solitary and a lonely man :

" * I was born,' said he, * in the Mohawk country,
and I remember well my father's log house and
clearing was back of the other clearins', along the val-
ley of a stream that came down from the hills. It was
about the close of the In gen war, and a dangerous
place to live, tho' my father didn't think so. I re-
member my mother was a Christian woman, and my
two little sisters and brother, all younger than myself,
we'd sit around her of an evening, and hear her read
the Bible by the light of a fatwood knot on the hearth,
and we'd all sing the simple hymns that we knowed,
and then she'd kneel down, and pray for us, to the
great God that hears the prayers of his people, even in
the deep forests, and away in the lone woods. We
were a happy family then, all alone there by ourselves,
and I loved my father and mother, and those little
sisters and brother, the more because we w*ere so
alone, and as I have never loved, and never can love
anything else. It's a sad thing to think that they all
passed away, in their brightness, and beauty, and
strength, all at once, to become victims to the
tomahawk and scalping-knives of the Ingens, and

HILLS AND

their bodies burned in the flames of their own
home.

" ' I was fifteen years old then, and a strong,
knowing boy, for my years. I'd been down one day
to the Mohawk for the doctor, for my father was sick,
I had to go five miles on foot to reach him, but he
Was sick, too, and couldn't go. He gave me some
medicine for my father, and I started back, It was a
while after dark when I came in sight of our clearin'.
I didn't go the road, but followed a footpath across the
woods. When I came to the stream, and was crossin'
it on a log, I saw the forms of men standin' in the
darkness round the house, and knew they were
Ingens, and my heart sunk within me, for I knew
they were there for no good. I hid away in a thick
bunch of bushes, where I could see the house, for I
was afraid to go further. I had no weapon, and if
murder was their object, God help my parents and
their little ones, for I could do them no good. All at
once the door was burst open, the savages screamed
their terrible war cry, and I saw them rush in like
devils. I heard the screams of my little sisters, and a

wild shriek from my mother. A great cloud seemed

i

THE MASSACRE. 289

to com* down all around me, my senses left me, and I
became like one that is dead.

" ' When I came to myself, I saw the flames of my
father's house going up towards the sky, lightin' our
clearin' and the woods around, like the day. I saw
the savages dancin' and yellin' round the burnin'
cabin ; and I saw on a pole, held by one of them, the
reekin' scalps of my whole kindred, — the black hair
of my father, the long tresses of my mother, and the
silken locks of my little sisters and brother, — all were
there. There was a strange feelin' of calm, intense
desolation upon me. My senses were all awake as
they'd never been before ; I was without hope, as I
was without fear ; I seemed to be another and a new
being. ISTo mist was before my eyes ; I could look, as
it seemed to me, through the war-paint on the faces
of the Ingens, and their wild contortions, and see their
features, as if they'd been familiar to me for years. I
seemed to know 'em all, like I knew people I'd been
with every day, though I'd never seen one of 'em be-
fore. I could pick 'em out among a thousand, and no
disguise of wai -paint could prevent my knowin'/u, i
again. There was eight of 'em, and the one that car-
ried the pole with the bloody scalps, was taller, nearly

13

290 HILLS AND LAKES.

by a head, than the res«}. His arms were long, almost
like an ape's, and one of 'em seemed stiff at the elbow,
as if from an old hurt. I counted 'em where I lay in
the bushes, over and over again, as they danced a hor-
rible dance round that burnin' pile. I warn't angry,
nor sorrowful, nor afraid. A strange sort of calmness
was on me. I seemed to look on without any thought,
but to study the faces and forms of them Ingens ; why,
I know not. My feelins' seemed to be all dead. I
forgot father, mother, brother, sisters ; all passed from
me, while I looked upon those bloody scalps, and
studied the faces of them red demons dancin' round.

" ' After awhile, they gave one last horrible yell, and
filed off, one after another, towards the forest. They
passed close to the bush beneath which I lay. He with
the scalps went first, and the rest in a line behind him*
I saw all their faces, plain and distinct as I see yours.
They all seemed to look straight at me, as they passed
by, and moved away into the still woods. Then a
drowsiness, heavy, like death, came over me, and I
sunk away, into a deep sleep.

" ' When I awoke, the sun was shining. I looked
out from the bush, and saw the neighbors standin*
round, and wondered why they were all there. I

THJK DESOLATION. 291

looked for my father's log-house, and saw a heap of
smokin' ruins where it had stood. I came out from
my hidin' place, and stood among the people, and
heard them talkin', as if I was in a dream. Presently
memory came back to me by slow degrees, and when
I thought of all I'd seen, a sorrow, almost greater
than human sorrow, came over me. I could not
weep. My eyes refused to shed tears, My tongue
would not speak, and I shrieked aloud in my great
grief, like one whose senses are gone. The neighbors
gathered around, and spoke kindly to me ; and one
old man, I remember, put his arm gently around me,
and led me to the little spring, and as he sat me down
on the green grass, dipped his hand in the cold water,
and passed it over my burnin' temples. He sat down
beside me, and drew me gently to his bosom. I
seemed to think it was my mother that I leaned
against, and tears gushed from my eyes, like a fountain
from beneath a rock. This revived me, and I told
them all I'd seen. Ten stout men, with rifles, started
on the trail of the Ingens into the deep woods, vowing
vengeance against the murderers.

" ' I stood by the smoulderin' ruins, while they
were removed from above the burned bodies of my

292 HILLS AND LAKES.

•
only kindred. There lay my father and mother, my

little brother and sisters, a shapeless mass, in the midst
of the desolation. They buried them without a coffin ;
and all that I had ever loved, all the kindred I ever
knew, lay together, beneath a little mound raised over
them, by the kind hands of the settlers from the
Kiver Bottoms. I went with them, a desolate-hearted
and sorrowful boy. I had nobody to love, nobody to
live for. My father and mother, brother, and little
sisters, all were gone, and I was alone. The neigh-
bors were all kind to me, and I was among them as
one of their own, wherever I chose to go ; but for all
that I was alone. The voices that I loved were all
gone, the faces that I loved were all gone, and every-
thing round which my heart clung, had passed away.
I went with the old man that bathed my temples at
the spring that morning, and my home was for a time
with him. I said I was a strong, hearty boy of my
years. I worked for him, late and early. I was up
before the sun in the morning, and was by the side of
full grown men, doin' the work of a man, all the day.
I had but one desire, and that was a deep, restless,
consumin' thirst for vengeance — but one hope, and
that was cf the bloody destruction of those who had

STUDYING NATURE. 293

made life a desolation to me. I wanted a rifle, and a
knowledge of the use of it.

" ' Well, at last I had earned money enough to
buy one, and a good one it was, too. I carried it for
five and twenty years, and 'twas because I lost it, by
accident, in the deej water, in the Saranac, that I
don't carry it now. When I became the owner of a
rifle, I worked on to procure other things needful to a
hunter, and then I gave up work, and took to the
woods. I spent days, and weeks in the forest, studyin'
nater, and the ways of wild animals, and the forest
signs, and followin' the trails of wild beasts. I
studied to larn, as boys at school study books. I
wanted to become wiser in the forest ways, than the
Ingens were. I longed, with a burnin' longin', for
vengeance on their accursed tribes. It; was my whole
thought, and aim, and object, in life. The war had
passed away. The government was at peace with the
Ingens, but my war with them, had not yet begun.
I was young, scarce yet nineteen, and the years of my
life were to be one long, undyin' warfare against 'em.
The faces of them eight Ingens, that danced around
our burnin' dwellin', on that horrible night, were al-
ways before me. I could have picked them out from

294 HILLS AND LAKES.

among a million. Every night, I saw them in my
dreams, and every day they grew more distinct, until
they seemed to be before me "bodily, and I saw them
as plain as I see you before me now, and I felt I could
never rest till I'd hunted 'em out, and slain 'em.

" * I told you that on the morning after the murder
of my kindred, ten of the settlers followed the trail.
They were gone five days. The Ingens had taken to
the water at Lake George, and further pursuit was
useless. Then we knew they belonged toward the St.
Lawrence, of the tribes beyond the Lower Shatagee.

" ' Five years after the murder of my people I
started for Lake Champlain. I passed up Lake Greorge,
and so on, up Lake Champlain, to above Rouse's
Point, and then took to the woods. I built a shantee
on the Shatagee river, and stayed round there for a
fortnight. I was one day standin' on the brow of a
hill, lookin' out over the forest, when I saw at a dis-
tance from me, a blue smoke, curlin' tip from among
the trees. I knew 'twas an Ingen camp, and all my
thirst for vengeance was strong upon me. I crept
like a painter, to within sight of their camp. Two
hunters sat by the fire smokin' their stone pipes.
'Twas near sundown, and I knew there were no more

REVENGE. 295

to come in. The carcasses of two deer hung upon
trees by their camp fire, and long strings of jerked
venison, hung upon poles around. I crept closer still,
and as one of them rose to his feet and turned towards
rne, there stood that long-armed, gigantic Ingcn, that
danced round my father's dwellin', as the flames were
consumin* it, carry in' aloft the reekin' scalps of my
murdered kindred. In the other, as I got sight of his
face, I saw another of the eight, whose faces had been
with me always since that horrible night. You can't
think how great my joy was, when I saw them there
before me. I watched 'em, and glared upon 'em, and
gloated over 'em, as the tiger watches and glares upon
his prey, from his secret hidin' place. Worlds would
not have purchased their safety. I would have
spurned heaps of gold, if offered for their lives, and the
prayers of all the good men in the world, wouldn't
have saved them from my fury. They were mine,
mine for destruction, as a feast for my vengeance. I
was like a starvin' panther, a hungry and whelp-robbed
bear. I lay there till night came on, and they slept.
I crept to where they lay, and removed their rifles. I
stole their huntin' knives from, their sheaths, and
threw them to a distance. They had gorged them-

296 HILLS AND LAKES.

selves with food, and slept soundly. I heaped knots
upon the fire, and it flamed up into a bright blaze.
Then I stepped back, and shouted. They sprang to
their feet, and looked round for their rifles. They
were gone, and there I stood before them with my
gun poised. " Dogs, wolves, (I shouted in their own
tongue, for I'd learned it when a boy,) murderers of
my kindred, die like dogs and wolves." One of 'em
fell dead, at the crack of my rifle. It was the smaller
one. The other turned to fly, but I was upon him in
an instant. The strength of a hundred men was in
me. I hurled him to the earth. My grasp was upon
his throat, my knee upon his cbest. Strong as he was,
he was like an infant in the grasp of a furious man.
I used no weapon in his destruction. I literally
strangled him with my hands. It seemed to me that
to use a rifle, or a knife upon him, would be allowin'
him a death too noble. I left their carcasses where I
slew them, a prey for the wolves and the carrion
birds.

" ' With their death, my desire for the blood of the
others of them eight, seemed, if possible, to increase.
Nay, their destruction would not appease the fierce
thirst for vengeance that was in me. I wanted to

;8. WOLVES, MURDERERS OF MY KINDRED, DIE UK I,
DOGS AND WOLVES. Page ^9

THE CONSUMMATION OF KEVENGE. 297

annihilate the whole tribe, even the race itself, as one
great offerin' to the murdered kindred that I loved so
dearly.

" ' On the St. Eegis Eiver, away up towards its
source, I saw, one day, a smoke goin' up to the clouds.
I crept within sight of it in the night time, and saw
five Ingens stretched before the fire ; I could have
slain them as they lay, but would not. I felt a strange
desire to cut them off in detail. To slay them there
at once, would be too brief a vengeance. I watched
them till morning. One of 'em shouldered his rifle,
and started off in a direction towards the St. Lawrence.
I followed him stealthily for two or three miles. He
stopped to look round him, as I broke a dry limb pur-
posely to attract his notice. That was the first look
of his face I got, and he was one of the eight. It was
an open woods where we were, and there we stood,
facing each other in the forest. The shriek of my
mother seemed to ring in my ears again, as I raised
my rifle. As the report broke upon the stillness of
the woods, the Ingen leaped into the air, and fell to
the earth dead. I left him there where he fell. Of
them five Ingens, not one returned to his tribe. Three

of them were of the eight that danced around the

13*

298 HILLS AND LAKES.

flames of my home, and yelled, while my kindred's
bodies were consuming I needn't tell you more.

" ' Joe,' said the old man, as he sunk his head
down between his hands, ' of them eight Ingens that I
counted that night, not one sleeps with his tribe, and
may be the bones of a good many more, lay scattered
about in the Shatagee country. 'Twas a wrong thing,
as I look upon it now, and I'm sorry I slew 'em. But
I was mad then. The murder of my family made me
crazy in my hatred, of the Ingens, and I thought I
heard the spirits of those I loved, callin' to me for ven-
geance. That cloud has passed away from my heart
now, and if I could undo what I've done, I'd gladly
do it. But it's too late.'

" The old man sat silent for a long time, with his
head leanin' forward, and his face concealed in the
palms of his hands ; I saw the tears fall in big drops
from between his fingers. I did not disturb him, for
I saw memory was busy with him. I thought may be
his heart was away to his boyhood's home, that his
mother was readin' to him from the good book, and
uis little brother, and flaxen-haired, soft-voiced sisters,
were around him. It's a sorrowful thing, Squire, to
see a strong man weep ; to see his iron frame throwin'

PAST ACTIONS. 299

off tears like a woman. It's a great grief that can
wring great drops of tears from the eyes of a stout-
hearted man, -when he thinks of the things he's passed
through on the trail of life.

" I paddled quietly to our landin' -place, and
stepped ashore, The old man rose up, and walked
slowly and sorrowfully to the shantee, and laid down
on the green boughs, and turned his face away, and
sobbed like a child. Like a child, too, he sobbed him-
self to sleep, and lay quietly till daylight. He rose
up a sad man that morning. The cloud at length
passed away from his spirit, but we never spoke again
about the massacre of his kindred, or the vengeance
he took upon their murderers."

XXIX.

A DEERLICE. — THE VERHONTER AND HIS LIOKLOO — SHOCTINO

. THE WRONG ANIMAL.

WE shot into the expanded mouth of a stream
that formed the main inlet to the lake. Here we
landed and followed a path along the bank of a muddy
little rivulet some quarter of a mile, till we came to a
little basin, scooped out bj the hand of nature in the
side of the hill. In this basin we found the spring
from which the streamlet originated. Its waters had
an unpleasant brackish, mineral taste, and the mire
out of which it oozed, was trodden as if a flock of
sheep had been passing through it. Little paths led
away from it in every direction into the forest. It
was what is termed in border parlance, a "deerlick."
Here the deer came in the night to lap its brackish
waters, and stamp round in the mud. It seemed to
be greatly frequented, as the paths and thousands of

A BE EH LICK. 301

tracks indicated. It is one of the ways of taking the
deer, near the settlements, where they are scarce and
hard to come at, to watch one of these " licks" at
night, and shoot them as they come in to taste the
waters. The hunter makes a "blind" of boughs,
placed in a natural kind of way, thick enough to con-
ceal him, and yet so arranged as not to attract the
notice of, or alarm the deer. Behind these he places
himself, with his rifle protruded through an opening
among the boughs, large enough to admit of his
taking aim along the barrel, but not so large as to ex-
pose his face to the view of the game. He is provided
with a little torch of fatwood shavings, which will
readily ignite from a match, and blaze up so as to
make a flame of the size of a gas-light. This is so
arranged, that the light will fall upon the deer as he
stands in the " lick." The hunter takes his position
behind his blind about sundown, arranges his rifle, and
his little torch ready for ignition, and sits quietly wait-
ing for the deer to " come in." In the early part of
the evening a deer will be heard treading softly among
the leaves, and walking carefully towards " the lick."
Sometimes he scents the hunter, and stops and listens.
If he suspects danger, he will stand whistling and

302 HILLS AND LAKES

stamping, as if endeavoring to call out his hidden foe,
If the hunter lays quiet, in the course of a quarter or
half an hour, the deer will overcome his fears, or con-
clude there is no danger, and walk into the lick. A
match is cautiously applied to the torch, and as it
blazes up, he raises his head with a start, cocks his
tail, and gazes with astonishment at the light. Some-
times he will make a bound or two and stop, to ex-
amine the strange fire thus suddenly kindled before
him. Then is the hunter's time. There must be no
rustling of leaves, no breaking of dry twigs, or the
deer will plunge snorting and whistling away into the
forest, leaving him to his meditations, and the mus-
quitos and black flies, till morning, or a dark walk in
the woods home. If he is careful, his game is so
near, that his shot will be sure and fatal.

There is one great drawback to this kind of sport.
The musquito and black fly swarm round the hunter,
stinging and biting him almost beyond endurance.
He can have no smudge. He cannot stir, to fight
them away while the deer is making up his mind
whether to " come in," or run away. He can only
lay still and bear the infliction " with what fortitude
he may." Half an hour of such torment is poorly re-

A VERMONTEK. 303

paid by the death of a deer. I have tried it once,
and though I endured it to the end, and secured my
game, yet that one trial satisfied me. I have never
" watched a deerlick" since, and am very sure I shall
never watch one hereafter. A man whose skin is
thinner than that of the rhinoceros, if he follows my
advice will not wait for a deer at a "lick" in the
Shatagee country.

" I mind," said my guide, as we paddled back to our
sfyantee, " a thing that happened down to the settle-
ments, to a young feller that worked for a man there,
one summer four or five year ago, that made a deal of
fan among the neighbors for a long time. They
called him Gabe Calvin, and he was a long, slabsided,
strappin' youth, from Old Yarmont. He was always
talkin' about the things he'd seen on the Green
Mountains, and from his tell he was the greatest
hunter this side of anywhere. The painters, and
catamounts, and bear, he'd seen, was amazin, and
you'd a believed that them varmints were thicker
where he came from, than gray rabbits in the Shatagee
"Woods. He'd hearn tell of deerlicks, and how they
were sometimes made. So he started out one Sunday
into the woods, with a bag of salt and an auger. He

804 HILLS AND LAKES.

found an old log, rotten like on the outside, such as
he'd hearn tell was the right thing, and he bored it
full of holes, and put in his salt. That isn't a bad
way, Squire, to make a deerlick, for if the deer find
it, as they'll be pretty sure to do if there's many about,
they'd work at the salt till they've eat up half the log.
The next Sunday Gabe visited his lick, and sure
enough the wood was all gnawed away round the
auger-holes, and he reckoned he'd have a tall time with
the deer that had done it. So he built him a blind,
cute as anything, and got things ready to make a gen-
eral smash of all the game in them parts. He put
more salt on the logs, and bored new holes and filled
'em, and when he came back he told about seein'deers
tracks as big as two year olds.

" The man he lived with had an old Queen Anne's
piece, long as a liberty pole, with a bore you could
stick your fist in. It had been through two or three
wars, to say nothing about scrimmages with the In-
gens. 'Twas old and rusty enough to draw a pension,
and hadn't spoke, may be, since the last war. It
hung up on pegs in the farmer's stoop, and had hung
there ever since he'd been in them parts. The old
man that owned it, kept it, as he said, as a kind of

THE WATCH. 305

scarecrow to the British — a sort of notice that 'twas
an onhealthy climate for 'em about there.

" Well. Gabe got down the old musket and scoured
it up and cleaned out its insides, and jput in a new
flint, and iled up the lock so 'twould go, and then
loaded it about half full of powder, and buckshot, and
slugs, and sich distructives, and started about sun-
down, with his match and little torch, to watch his
deerlick, and raise thunder generally with his big
buck that made a track like a two year old. He got
behind his blind, and poked the long barrel of his old
Queen Anner through the brush, and laid down be-
hind it with the breech to his shoulder, waitin' for the
game. The musquitos poked their long bills into
him, and the black flies gnawed away at his face and
bare legs, in a way that made him kick and thrash
about like a horse tormented by a million of gadflies.

By and bye, after the dark had come down, Gabe
heard somethin' walkin' towards his lick, and his
heart beat like a trip-hammer against his sides, and he
lay still, lettin' the musquitos and flies bite him and
be darned. Presently, whatever it was he heard
walkin' in the bush, stepped up to the log and began
to lick at the salt, and gnaw the old wood in earnest,

306 HILLS AND LAKES.

as if it had found something good. Gabe lighted his
match, and held it cautiously to his shavins of fat-
wood, and as they blazed up, he sighted along the
barrel, shut up both eyes, and blazed away too. The
charge from the old musket went one way, and Gabe
went the other. The old continentaller, kiekin' him
worse than a whole team of horses, and the roar that
was heard in them woods, and went echoin' about the
hills and bellerin' among the mountains, gave the
wild things around fits. Gabe rolled over and over
down the bank, and brought up in a muddy pool,
with his shoulder half broke, and his cheek bruised as
if somebody had struck him with a sledge-hammer.
The folks at home, hearin' the report, concluded they'd
have venison enough for a week, and no mistake.
About ten o'clock, Gabe came creepin' along home.
He hung up his old musket, and stole off to bed in
the dark, He didn't answer any questions very dis-
tinctly, and when he crawled out in the morning, sich
another lookin' animal couldn't be found in the
Shatagee country. One eye was swelled tight, and
his face was all on one side, and his shoulder was blue
all over as an indigo bag. He didn't say much about
his deerlick, or what he'd let off old Queen Anne at,

THE MISTAKE. 307

but the next night one of the farmer's yearlins was
missiu'. They found it lay in' by Gabe's licklog, with
about twenty holes clean through it. Gabe didn't
stay about there long. He heard too much about his
great shot down at his deerlick and his big buck, that
made a track like a two year old.

XXX.

OLD SITADRACH, AND THE WATER RATTLESNAKE. — TUCKER'S NOTION
OF SLAVERY. — THE END OF THAT INSTITUTION AT LAST.

AFTER our return to our shantee in the evening,
and after we had supped, I told Tucker an anecdote,
concerning an old negro who belonged to my father
when I was a boy, and when slavery existed in this
State. I repeat it here, only by way of introduction
to one of Tucker's peculiar discourses upon a subject
which had engaged his attention, and upon which he
had evidently bestowed some reflection.

My father had become security for a friend, in the
loan of money, and to indemnify himself against loss,
had taken a mortgage upon a negro. The debt fell
upon my father, and he became the owner of a man.
Old Shadrach was a Virginian by nurture, but an
Ethiopian by birth. He was transfeired in a slave-
ship from the jungles of Africa, when a small boy, to

OLD SHADKACH. 309

enjoy the luxuries of civilization in the Old Colony,
or as much of them as was compatible with his con-
dition as a chattel. He was brought to Steuben, by a
Virginian, who came there with a large number of
slaves and plethoric money-bags, to run through all
the gradations from respectability to absolute destitu-
tion, and to die at last a pauper, and be buried at the
public expense.

Old Shadrach stood in mortal fear of snakes and
toads, and could be frightened into any measure, by
the threat of having one of these put in his bed. He
ran away regularly two or three times every year, and
would stay away sometimes a fortnight, sometimes a
month, and on two or three occasions he was gone so
long, that my father began to congratulate himself
upon being rid of him entirely. But some morning,
Old Shadrach would come crawling out from the hay-
mow, and promise his master solemnly to be obedient
and industrious, and never run away again as long as
he lived. I said he stood in mortal fear of snakes.
He was one day in a canoe, out fishing on the Crooked
Lake, on the bank of which my father's house stood,
and drew up what he took to be a rattlesnake. He
dropped his pole in a perfect horror of affright, and

310 HILLS AND

leaped overboard, roaring for help, as if all the wild
animals, and poisonous serpents of his native jungles,
were after him. He could swim like a duck, and he
struck out for the shore, screaming with horror at
every pull. Upon reaching the shore, he broke like
a quarter horse for the house. My father, who was at
a short distance, hurried up to know the reason of the
outcry. " Massa," cried Shadrach, in all the earnest-
ness of terror, " de lake is full of rattlesnakes." " Gret
out, you wooly-pated rhinoceros," replied my father ;
" who ever heard of rattlesnakes in the water."
" Golla ! massa I" replied the African, " he dere now,
sure." My father went out in another canoe, to the
one in which Shadrach had been fishing, and upon
securing the pole which was floating about, found
that Shadrach had hooked an enormous eel,— a fish by
no means common in the lake. But Shadrach regard-
ing it as belonging to the family of snakes, never
trusted himself alone after that on the water.

" I've hearn a good deal lately, Squire," said
Tucker, after I had finished my story, " about slavery
and the slave States, and I've read some tracts and
newspapers, that have been sent around to almost
everybody in these parts, on the subject. It seems to

A ^DEMAGOGUE. 311

be a ticklish matter, and makes a good deal of disturb-
ance, and a heap of bad feelins' between the different
parts of the country ; and I've a notion if there's ever
to be trouble between the States, it'll be very likely to
grow out of slavery* I'm agin it myself. It's my
opinion that the buy in' and sellin' of human men and
women, is a thing that ain't accordin to nater. It
don't belong to a free country, and ain't becomin' a
free people. A man may talk just as much as he
pleases about the blessin's of liberty, and his good
will towards the spread of human rights, but if he
justifies tradin' in human flesh and blood, and up-
holds it as a right thing, he ain't a republican in his
heart. The liberty he talks about, means freedom to
himself. His human rights is his own rights, and
nobody's else, and I'm agin' him. I won't trust my
liberty, nor my rights, nor the rights of my children
in his hands, if I can help it, for all his big words and
oily talk. But I ain't goin' off on a cruise agin5
slavery either. We havn't got any slavery in this
State, and I'm glad of it It's my notion that we came
across a great blessin', when it was done away with.
It's a great clog on the heels of a country. It keeps it
from movin' along and goiu' ahead.

812 HILLS AND LAKES.

"Labor, Squire, is a great regulator of public
morals. I mean free labor,— labor that's paid for, — •
independent labor, that brings a harvest of reward,
and that makes a man and his little ones comfortable,
and gives 'em a decent education, and a home. There's
nothing in this country that should make a man
ashamed to work. Look out over all the free States,
and think that two hundred years ago, all that you
look upon, all the broad farms, the towns, and the
sites of the great cities, were all a wilderness, covered
with huge trees. Them great trees had to be chopped
down, one at a time. The men who did that work
were entitled to some credit, — more, by a long shot,
than if they'd mown down armies of men, and plun-
dered their country. Their battle was with the for-
ests, and the victory they won, was over the wilder-
ness. It didn't cost anybody's blood, nor anybody's
treasure. The men who did that work, had a right to
take a dignified and a high place among the people of
the airth, and their children needn't be ashamed of
their fathers, nor of followin' their example. The
world gave them the credit they were entitled to, and
it gave dignity to labor, and a good name to the man
that worked. It's so still. It's nothing agin' a man,

DIGNITY OF FREE LABOR. 313

in this State, to say he's a workin' man. That he
aims his bread by the labor of his hands, because tho'
he keeps busy all the long day, there's nothing servile
in his labor. He occupies his own place in the world,
and is just as independent in his feelin's, in his
thoughts, and opinions, and just as likely to be rich,
and high in office twenty years hence, as the next
man. But in slave Slates it ain't so, and can't, ac-
cordin' to nater, be so. Free labor can't exist right
alongside of slave labor, without robbin' it of its dig-
nity, and makiu' it a disgrace. In them States, the
work is done by the slaves, and they are a contemned
and a despised race. The slave works ; and the rich
and proud people take up the notion, that every man
that works must be looked upon just like a slave, be-
cause he works. They've a notion that a man who
can't or won't own a slave to do his work for him,
ain't of much account any how, and they look down
upon him, as one lower clown on the ladder of respec-
tability than themselves. They make him eat at the
second table, and take their own leavin's at that, and
that's a thing, Squire, a free American don't often feel
inclined to stand. Will anybody tell us, Squire, why

old Virginia, that was the greatest, the richest, and

14

314 HILLS AND LAKES.

most populous State in the Union, at the close of the
Kevolutionary war, has fallen behind a good many
other States now ? The reason of it can't be found in
her climate, for that, I'm told, is about the finest in

ill

the world. It can't be found in the nater of her soil,
for I'm told it was once the richest in this country. It
isn't because she hasn't any ocean harbors, nor because
there ain't any streams or rivers, that come down over
precipices and steep places, to make great water-wheels
roll round, and set machinery in motion, for people
that pretended to know, have told me that there's
plenty of all these. The truth is, that slavery and
slave labor spiles a people. It makes the master ex-
travagant, and proud, and above work, and there ain't
much encouragement for the slave to be smart, when
it don't make him any richer or more respectable. It
comes over a country like a great blight and a mildew,
that takes away the enterprise and the energy of a
people, and dries up the go ahead principle, that would
otherwise make 'em push along and keep movin1 : and
because it does all this, I'm agin' it.

"Then there's the great moral sin of slavery.
What right has one man, I should like*"to know, to
buy and sell another man, made by the same God,

FREEDOM vs. SLAVERY. 315

fashioned from the same clay, subject to the same
nateral laws, governed by the same reason, possessin'
the same instincts, and bound to the same eternity at
last ? I'm a poor man, Squire, and I hold my title to
my liberty, as I understand it, not by anything IVe
done, but because I'm a MAN. I hold it, not on ac-
count of what my fathers did, not because they were
strong, or rich, or virtuous, or wise, but because God
gave me a human form, a face after his own image,
and a livin' soul ; and every creeter possessin' them
attributes, has just as good a right to his liberty as I
have to mine. Strong men may rob me of it, as
they've done to millions and millions of men for thou-
sands of years, and are doin' every day, but that don't
wipe out my right, nor alter the everlastin' fact that
I'm entitled, by a charter given to me by God, to be
free.

"And then there's another matter I don't like
about it. We talk everlastin'ly about our free insti-
tooshuns, and use a wonderful deal of big words, es-
pecially about election times, and Independence days,
about all men bein' by nater equal, and braggin' about
our love of freedom, while we've got, right under our
noses, a livin' contradiction of it all. We talk about

816 HILLS AND LAKES,

this country bein' the home of the free, and a place for
the oppressed of all nations of the airth to find their
rights, and their nateral position in, when in one-half
of these States, and in the ten miles square where the
Congress is held, and which belongs to all the people of
the Union, the very worst sort of oppression and wrong
is carried on, under the sanction of law, and by the au-
thority of the constitooshun. Oppression and wrong,
that takes away froin thinkin', and reflectin' men, and
women, every right that pertains to 'em as human
creeters, and makes 'em things to be traded on, to be
bought and sold like oxen, or bags of wheat, or bales
of cotton. It's a great shame, and a burnin' reproach,
and I don't wonder that kings and emperors and great
lords of other countries, turn up their noses at the
idee of our preachin to them, about knockin' the
chains of despotism off the necks of their people.

But as I said before, I ain't goin off on a cruise
agin' slavery. May be I don't understand it, as I
don't claim to be a wise man, and never was among it.
I shan't quarrel with the slave States about upholdin'
it* If they think it a blessin' they've a right to enjoy it,
so far as I'm concerned, and I've no right to interfere
with 'em in doin' so, and New York hasn't any right

THE INJUSTICE OF SLAVERY. 317

to interfere. If it's a sin, they and not we, are to an-
swer for it. Besides, so long as I see such men as
Harry Clay, and Daniel Webster, and General Taylor,
takin' care of it, I don't feel very uneasy, and I've
come to the conclusion that it won't break up the
Union just yet.

" I don't know as it's altogether right, but when I
look around, and see the great events that are takin'
place in the world, I begin to study into matters, and
see if I can trace the designs of Providence, in what
he permits to be goin' on upon this airth, and what
the end of it all is to be. Now I look upon slavery
as the wickedest system, the mightiest sin against God,
and man, that the world ever looked upon. And
while I say of the great Kuler of the world that " he
ordereth all things well," and that everything will
come out right at last, I ask myself, why is all this
great wickedness, this wonderful wrong permitted to
grow up, and spread so ? I sometimes think that I
have studied out the reason of it all, and found out the
great plan that is to be accomplished by it, and, fool-
ish as it may seem in me, I'll tell you what I believe
it to be. Africa, as I've been told, and read in books,
is a wild, and savage country, where the people, not

318 HILLS AND LAKES.

long ago, had no knowledge of the things that belong
to civilization, that they were poor, ignorant, heathen
idolaters, that had never heard of the Bible, nor any-
thing that belonged to the Christian religion. That
most of the tribes, were rovin', and wild barbarians,
mostly at war, killin' and plunderin' and enslavin'
each other. I've been told too, that Africa is away
south, and that the sun looks almost straight down upon
it, from the beginnin' to the end of the year, and that
white people of other countries, become weak, and
feeble, and die, under the bad influences of the climate,
and that the black man is the only human creeter,
that's fitted to live, and be healthy, and strong there.
"Well, I see that them savage people have been brought
to this country, and slaves though they be, ignorant
and foolish though they be, they become acquainted
with human ways, and larn to live like civilized, and
Christian folks. They grow up with some knowledge
of the Bible, and of the Christian religion, and each gen-
eration knows more than the one that went before it.
Some of them become free, and are edicated, and one
way and another, pick up a great deal of knowledge.
I see away down south, in the British islands, they
have all become free, so far as actual slavery is con-

GOOD RESULTING FROM SLAVERY. 819

cerned; and I sec it stated in the newspapers, that
there is one independent nation of black people, now-
inhabiting one of the great islands between North
and South America. I see too, that in most of the
Southern States, the black people are increasin' faster
than the white folks, and it may be, that away off in
the future, after hundreds of years shall have passed
away, there will be, away down south, a country em-
bracin', may be, ten Southern States, a great nation
of black people, independent of all other nations,
makin' their own laws, a Christian and civilized na-
tion, servin' Grod accordin7 to the Bible. And then
again, I read of the colored people goin' back to Af-
rica, by ship-loads, carryin' with them civilization,
and Christianity, and the Bible, and that they are
spreadin' out, and growin' amazin'ly, in that country
of their fathers. When I see all this, I say to myself
that the end of this cruel wrong, and great wicked-
ness of slavery, is to build up the colored race, and
make them a civilized and Christian people. That
slavery, wicked as it surely is, is to be the means of
of civilizin' and Christianizin' Africa. To save the
negro race from bein' clean wiped out, as the Ingens
of this country will, one day be. To make Africa a

320 HILLS AND LAKES.

home for Christian men, and give to a portion of the
black people a country and a home, at least, on this
side of the great Ocean, in a climate fitted for 'em."

" Well," said I, " Tucker you have studied out, as
you say, a plausible theory. But if such were the
designs of Providence, could they not have been
brought about with less of what you call wickedness
and cruel wrong, and in a shorter period than will be
required to accomplish it all ?

" Squire," he replied, " it is not for you and I to
sit in judgment upon the dealin's of Providence, in re-
gard to his management of the things he has made.
"What to man's wisdom seems to be a mystery beyond
findin' out, may one day be made plain, and the things
that look crooked now, one day seem all straight and
right. I don't undertake to say my notions as to
this matter are correct all through, but you and I
know that the children of the men, that hard-hearted
and wicked people stole in Africa, and brought over
the ocean and sold into slavery here, have taken back
to that same Africa, civilization, and freedom, and the
Bible. "We know, too, that the generations of the
colored people, as they come along, are creepin' up,
slowly, in knowledge, and in the ways of white folks ;

THE GROWTH OF TIME. 321

and it isn't onlikely that each generation of the future,
will creep up a little higher, till one day they may at-
tain to the full growth and perfect stature of manhood,
and in all that belongs to the most finished work of
the great God.

" As to what you say respectin' the time necessary
to bring it all about, I have thought of that, too, and
I've read in the Bible what, to my notion, answers it
all. Kater, or rather the great God of nater, ain't'
bound down to years, or hundreds of years. With
Him, ' a single day is as a thousand years, and a thou-
sand years as one day.' Hundreds of generations
passin' before Him, are as the lightnin' flashin' from
the cloud, before the eyes of a man. It takes the tall
pine a hundred years to grow to its full strength, and
yet another hundred years to grow weak, and rotten,
and fall to the ground. It took this country two hun-
dred years to fit itself for independence and progress,
but the causes that were to make it great, and firm,
and strong, were all the time at work. So it will take
the black people a long while to grow up, and the
white people a long time to go down, before the great
change can come. You and I, Squire, must finish our

work in the time allotted to us. We must hurry on

14*

322 HILLS AND LAKES.

to its completion while our day lasts, and our sun of
life is in the sky, or we shall be overtaken by the
darkness before our task is done. But with the great
Euler of the universe, there is no mornin', and no
night; there is no yesterday, nor to-morrow. With
Him all time is present, — an everlastin' and eternal
NOW. And whether He puts forth his arm, and hurls
things with the rush of the tempest, or leaves them to
the silent but sure process of ages, it is all the same.
You and I, of course, will not live to see it, nor will
any that can trace us out as among their forefathers,
see it ; but I believe that away off in the long future,
may be hundreds and hundreds of years to come,
Africa will be made up of great nations of colored
people, all civilized and Christianized, havin' great
navies and merchant ships visitin' all parts of the
world, and factories, and machine shops, and great
cities, and broad farms, and abundance of wealth, and
worshippin' God accordin' to the Bible. And I be-
lieve, too, that some portion of what is now indepen-
dent States of this Union, and the islands of the Mexi»
can Gulf, will be other independent and free nations
of civilized and Christianized colored people ; and all
this mighty change will grow out of this great wicked-

THE END OF SLAVERY. 32B

ness of human slavery. In this way, as I heard a
preacher say once, the very wickedness of the people
will be made to carry foward the good work of the
great God, and the wrath of man be made to praise
Him."

XXXI.

MOONLIGHT ON THE WATER. — A "VILLAGE WIPED OUT. — THE Atr SA-
BLE.— KEESEVILLE. — THE GORGE. — AN ORE PIT.

THIS was one of the most beautiful evenings that I
had seen since I entered the woods. The moon was
at full, and its brightness was upon everything around
us. Mountain and forest and the still lake were all
shining in its beams, and the little bays, hidden with-
in the shadows of the tall trees, had just enough of
obscure and spectral twilight about them to give them
a superstitious and solemn charm. While my guide
slept I seated myself in ou^ittle craft and drifted out
into the. water, for it was too pleasant for sleep.

Nothing can be more delightful than to float on
one of these beautiful lakes in a calm, warm night.
There is nothing but sweetness in the air, nothing but
pleasant sounds falling upon the ear. The loon lifts
up his clarion voice, waking the echoes of the moun-

ADIEU TO THE WOODS. 325

tains, and his quavering notes die away like the voice
of a trumpet in the distance. The owl hoots solemnly
in the woods, and the frog croaks along the shore.
The air moans among the tall old pines, and the trout
splashes the water as he leaps in his gladness above
the surface. The fire flies flash their tiny torches,
and the stars look up from away down in the quiet
waters and down from the sky above you. If you
shout, a thousand voices echo back the sound. If
you sing, hundreds of voices prolong the song ; while
through all the night sounds, silence seems to be
struggling for dominion, and you say, while a hun-
dred'voices are heard at once, how still it is.

The time to which I had limited my tramp in the
woods had already expired, and the next morning,
while the sun was just showing his great red face
through mist and haze over the summit of the eastern
hills, we bid adieu to thsfe beautiful lakes, the most
picturesque and charming in all this broad country,
and started for the nearest settlement towards the
Champlain. We struck for Franklin Falls, a little
hamlet, the one deepest in the forest in that direction,
on the Saranac river, eighteen or twenty miles dis-
tant. We reached it weary enough about three

326 HILLS AND LAKES.

o'clock. We were hungry enough, too, and the din<
ner cooked by the landlady, after the way of civiliza-
tion, the fresh wheat bread and the sweet milk, was a
pleasant thing to sit down to.

This pleasant little hamlet has its history, eventful
though brief; a part of which has transpired since my
guide and myself visited it on this our return from
our "tramp in the Chataugay woods." It was a small
place then, and has. since been entirely " wiped out."
It has, however, appeared again, and it is now, in
1854, a smart, neat little town, remarkable, however,
only for one of the finest mills for the manufacture of
lumber in the State — a mill capable of sawing forty
thousand feet of lumber per day. I have never seen
so extensive an establishment for the manufacturing
of lumber, about which everything was so neat, and
which is managed with such system and order. There
are, perhaps, a dozen or more houses clustered to-
gether, conspicuous among which is a large tavern
house just being finished. A year ago, this little
town was as large as it is now. It contained as many
houses, nearly as good a mill, and as many inhabit-
ants. It was squatted down right in the woods — all
around it was forest. The trees that had been chop*

A TOWN BURNT UP. 327

ped down, and those that had been blown down, lay
where they fell, with all that was combustible around
them, in a fit condition for burning. A fire in the
woods here, under any circumstances, is a terrific
thing, but when such additional incentives to its fury
as were scattered around this little town exist, it is
irresistible. From some cause a fire broke out some
half a mile to the south-west of the village. The wind
was strong, and the flames rushed forward with the
speed of a race horse and the roar of a tornado. Its
career was one of resistless fury. Flashing and swirl-
ing, leaping upward and onward, the dense columns
of smoke and flame curling and wreathing towards
the sky, and borne forward by the winds, soon
reached the devoted little town. The power of man
was as a reed in its course, and every vestige of the
village was swept away. Houses, barns, shops, mills,
everything that would burn, was consumed, and
where, when the sun rose, was a busy hamlet, when
it set, was only smoking desolation. Not a vestige
of a human habitation — not a structure reared by the
hands of man — w as left. The little town in the woods
was wiped out, and smouldering ruins, charred
chunks, and heaps of ashes, alone marked the spot

328 HILLS AND LAKES.

where it stood. The flames, as if rejoicing in their
power, swept onward over the hill, to the north, leav-
ing desolation behind them, and paused only when
they found no dry thing to consume. Any other
man than the owner of the town, would have sunk
under the calamity. Some $50,000 of his property
was destroyed, and, with other embarrassments press-
ing upon him, the spirit of any other man would have

been broken. Not so with P C •. With a

will that nothing could bend — an energy unconquer-
able as destiny — he rose up from the misfortune that
overwhelmed him, defiant of fate, and scorning the
power of the elements, he reared from those ashes of
desolation, a phoenix — stronger and better than that
which destruction had swept away. Where the old
mill stood, stands a better one. Hundreds of thou-
sands of feet of lumber are piled along the road, for
half a mile, and great stacks of it surround the mill.
Thirty teams are drawing from these long rows of
piled-up boards, and as one pile disappears another
takes its place. Where the former tavern and store
stood, stands another and a better. Each dwelling-
house destroyed, is replaced by a new one, and a fe\v
charred fragments scattered about, are all that remains

TKUE ENERGY. 329

to remind one of the fire that made such a clean sweep

of the town. Honor, I say, to all such men as P

C . They may be unfortunate; they may under-
take more than human agency can entirely perform ;
they may not succeed in amassing a fortune ; destiny
may be against them ; they may work hard and die
poor; they may fall; their notes may be protested; —
but the world owes them a debt of gratitude. It is
just such men who push forward civilization — who
sweep away the forests — who let the sun, with its ge-
nial influences, down upon the earth, where tall trees
once obstructed his rays — who spread out green fields,
and build up towns in the ancient wilderness — who
give employment to labor, and impress progress upon
everything around them. Bankers may discredit
their notes, and usurers prey upon them; but they
are the true " manifest destiny men," who give to our
country practical dominion over nature, by pushing
civilization into the waste and desolate places in the
wilderness. They chain the mad waters to great
wheels, and make them grind corn, give shape and
fitness for use, to great forest trees, extract the metals
from the solid rock, and throw the shuttle and spin.

330 HILLS AND LAKES.

Honor to all such, men as P C •, I say— let

the world judge them as it may.

"We left Franklin Falls the next morning for tho
valley of the Au Sable, and, arriving at the Forks,
my "tramp in the Chataugay woods" was over. I
had left the " hills and lakes" far behind me, the latter
sleeping as I found them, in the quietude of the for-
ests and among old primeval things. " Au Sable
Forks" is twelve miles above Keeseville. It is a little
manufacturing town. When I say little, I mean only
in respect to the number of houses, for the amount of
business done in the shape of iron making, is greatly
disproportionate to the outward seeming of the place.
There is here one of the largest establishments for the
manufacturing of iron and nails on the river. A sin-
gle firm make some twelve hundred kegs of nails
weekly, and in all the departments of their business,
employ between five and six hundred men. The
great hammers are pounding away continually — some
forty nail-making machines are clanking— the great
waterwheels are going on their ceaseless rounds — the
big bellows are puffing — the forges and furnaces are
blazing — and the great rollers are turning out their
fiery serpents always, save from twelve o'clock Satur-

KEE SEVILLE. 331

day till twelve o'clock Sunday nights of each. week.
Everybody and everything are busy. Teams are
busy, men are busy, the waters are busy. Business,
activity, energy, go-ahead, are written upon every-
thing.

We hired a conveyance to take us to Keeseville.
This is a pleasant town on the banks of the Au Sable
river. It is a quiet place, away from the thunder of
railroads, the roar of the steam-pipe, or the scream of
the steam-whistle ; but you hear, day and night, other
sounds quite as indicative of civilization, quite as sug-
gestive of progress. The blows of the monster trip
hammer, the ceaseless rumbling of great waterwheels,
the puffing of great bellows, and the clank of ma-
chinery, are never silent, save on the Sabbath. The
world knows but little of the natural wealth of this
portion of the State, or the extent of its manufactures.
On this little river, within fifteen miles of Keeseville,
are made over eight thousand tons of nails alone — not
from iron manufactured abroad, but from ore dug
from the bowels of the earth here. It will be remem-
bered that this vast amount constitutes but a portion
of the iron manufactured here. You will hear the
pondrous hammer as it makes the iron into bars of all

332 HILLS AND LAKES.

sizes, and you will see it piled in huge quantities in
the store-houses connected with the works, while
teams are constantly employed drawing it away to
Port Kent, the depot where it starts on its journey by
water to the southern and eastern markets. The man-
ufacturers here, dig their own ore, separate and wash
it. They burn their own charcoal, and from the ore
that is taken from the mines, they go clear through
with the manufacture of iron, without the use of a
single material that is not produced on the spot, or
within the same township. The ore goes in at one
end of the works, and comes out in nails or finished
bars at the other. The rushing sound of the great
bellows, the rumbling of the waterwheel, the thunder-
ing blows of the trip hammer, and the clank, clank,
of the nail-making machines, are all mingled on the
ear at once.

It was a pleasant thing to see one of these great
workshops in the night time. The glare of the forges,
the intense light of the chunks of iron as they came at
a white heat from the blazing furnace, to see them
pass through the immense rollers as they were formed
into fitness for nail-making, coming out from the
pressing machine longer and longer, increasing in

THE GOUGE. 333

length, stretching out and running along the floor
like gigantic fiery serpents, while the stalwart opera*
tives handled them with iron tongs, as if they were
harmless things. I visited one of these works at mid*
night, and spent an hour among the furnaces and
blazing iron, looking upon these strong-armed men as
they converted seeming rocks into one of the most
useful articles of commerce.

The Gorge, some two miles below Keeseville, is
one of the greatest curiosities of this country. The
river goes roaring, and plunging, and cascading, more
than a mile, through a chasm some thirty feet wide,
on either side of which the rocks rise in perpendicular
precipices from one to two hundred feet in height.
On the top of these ledges you may stand, on the very
verge of these great high walls, and look away down
upon the boiling waters, as they go surging and roar-
ing on their way. This chasm does not seem to have
been worn out by the river in its everlasting flow, but
to have been made by the parting of the hills. The
rocks on one side are counterparts of the rocks on the
other, as if pulled apart. Rock matches rock, and
shape is fitted to shape. An indentation on the one
side, is matched by a prominence on the other, and

334 HILLS AND LAKES.

you can see plainly that if the river could be with*
drawn, and the chasm pressed together, the two sides
would fit like the halves of an apple that had been
cleft by the blade of a knife. Above Keeseville are
evidences that a lake once covered what is now a
beautiful valley, stretching away for miles to the
south-west, and through which the Au Sable now
flows. Where now are rich farms, was once the bot-
tom of this lake, and fishes sported above the fields
that are now rich meadows, or covered with grain.
Some mighty power, centuries upon centuries ago,
struggling in the remote depths of the earth, up-
heaved these hills, till the surface parted, leaving this
gorge, through which the pent-up waters rushed, and
emptying the lake of its contents, and giving its foun-
dations to the world as a place for man to beautify,
over which the ploughshare should pass, and his
flocks and herds feed.

In company with a friend, I went some three miles
west of the village, to what is called Halleck Hill, to
see one of those quiet landscapes, upon which the eye
loves to rest. It was not a rugged mountain scenery,
where giant ranges stretch away, and tall peaks lift
their bald heads to the clouds. There was no desola-

PATRIOTIC QUAKERS. 335

tion, no wild and rocky sterility, but a beautiful, level
plain, a valley reaching away for miles, rich in agri-
cultural products, and teeming with the evidences of
wealth and civilization. Away off to the right was
the Champlain. The spires of Plattsburgh could be
seen in the distance, seeming to rise like white pillars
from the depths of a belt of forest, while in front of
them can be viewed the spot where was fought the
naval battle of Lake Champlain, in the last war. The
beautiful landscape before me was the valley of the
little Au Sable. It was settled by Quakers, men of
peace, who till the ground in quiet, and never go up
to the wars with weapons of destruction in their
hands. The spot was pointed out to me where these
peaceful people, startled by the booming cannon,
went up and stood to view the conflict on the lake,
when McDonough and Downie fought against each
other. These men of peace were patriots. They
loved their country, and while from principle they
refrained from the shedding of human blood, yet their
hearts and their prayers were with their countrymen,
against their country's foes. When the smoke of the
battle floated away, and the triumph of American
arms was manifest, there went up a shout of gladness,

836 HILLS AND LAKES.

a loud hurrah, from these honest Quakers, which
showed that the old man was strong within them.

In plain view from where I stood is the little
island on which the killed in that memorable battle
were buried. There, in the midst of the lake, side by
side, in amity, rest the bones of those who struggled
against each other on that day of mortal strife. Death
is a queller of animosities, and the hands that struck
at each other in life, are quiet enough in the grave.
Brave men are sleeping on that little island. It should
be regarded as consecrated ground, and a tall monu-
ment should be erected to their memory. It should
be made to speak of the noble daring of the men who
periled and lost their lives for their country. There
are no rich men buried there. No titled men. They
were the sailors, men who stood by the great guns,
and whose breasts were bared to the foe. They were
what the world calls common men, and who, had they
survived the battle, would have lived and died with-
out fame ; but they are just the men who win victo-
ries, and bring fame to commodores and generals, and
upon who&o bravery hangs the result of the battles.
Over tho T)ones of these brave men buried here,
these poo* men, these sailors, these " common men,"

ENTRANCE TO THE MINES. 337

should be erected what will save them from desecra-
tion, and tell to the far-off generations how stoutly
they fought, and how bravely they fell in the cause
of their country.

I went in company with my friend to the Palmer
Hill ore bed. This hill, which supplies at present
most of the forges with ore, rises from a level plain
to the height of perhaps two hundred feet, in a round,
conical form, having a diameter at its base of from
one and a half to two miles. The main opening to
the mines, or rather where the principal vein cropped
out, and where it was first worked, is near the top of
the hill. The vein pitched downward at an angle of
some forty-five degrees, and has been worked a vast
distance into the hill. As I approached one of these
vast openings, a stream of cold air came up, which in
the sultriness of the heat above was exceedingly re-
freshing. I stood looking away down into what to
me were unknown depths, where the darkness was
impenetrable, when a sound came up from the very
centre of the hill, louder to my ears than a hundred
cannon, and went bellowing, and roaring, and shak-
ing the earth as it reverberated among the drifts and

deep excavations of the mines. I started back in af-

15

338 HILLS AND LAKES.

fright, while my friend enjoyed a hearty laugh at my
amazement. It was a blast made in a remote part of
the mines. "We entered the hill by a tunnel of some
three hundred feet in length, by which teams enter
to draw out the ore that is raised from the deep foun-
dations of the mines. "We found several wagons in
this interior of the mountain, being loaded with ore.
Above us was a lofty arch sustained by gigantic stone
pillars, and supporting a roof of perhaps a hundred
feet of solid rock, through which, at intervals, the
light came down through great chimneys, as it were,
and through which we could look out upon the clear
sky. All around us were openings that stretched
away, hundreds and hundreds of feet down, through
the gloomy depths of which, the lamps of a hundred
miners twinkled like tiny little stars in the darkness.
We could hear their hammers, as they drilled into the
solid ore, and ever and anon would come the deafen-
ing roar of the blasting, shaking the arches by its de-
tonations, and dying away among the caverned depths.
A ladder was visible, down which I was invited to
descend to where the little lights twinkled. But I
declined. I prefer daylight and a firm footing, to a
possible tumble of hundreds of feet among broken

MINES OF IRON-ORE. 339

rooks, and being dashed to pieces in the darkness.
While we were in the hill, the hour for dinner was
announced. The little lights at once began to move,
and in a few minutes, scores of miners began to
emerge from the darkness, up the ladders, covered
with the black debris of the mines, and looking like
an army of Cyclops fresh from the forges of Vulcan.
I was glad when my foot was on the surface again ;
and when I stood on the level plain with only the sky
above me, with no dark caverns into which to stum-
ble, and no arch of rocks to fall upon me, I felt as
McGregor did when his "foot was on his native
heath." I am reasonably courageous on the earth's
surface, where I can see danger if it exists, where I
can either meet it or run from it, but my nerves won't
stand darkness and gloomy caverns, and dark holes
in the ground are my abhorrence. This mine is ex-
haustless, and the deeper it is wrought the richer and
more abundant does the ore become. There are other
beds scattered around over this region, which will
supply the iron-mongers forever, but this is the one
from which they at present draw their largest supply.
At Plattsburgh my guide and I separated, he to
go back to his log-house and little clearing, on the

840 HILLS AND LAKES.

borders of civilization, and I to my home in the city
His cheerful and contemplative disposition will make
him a contented and a happy man. "We parted with
regret, certainly so far as I am concerned, and were I
to judge by the warm and generous grasp of his hand,
I should infer there was a little of the same feeling in
his own heart, when he said to me at parting, as I
now say to the reader, " Good-bye, and a smooth trail
through life to you."

THE END.

RE1
IO

LO/

_H

4

RETURN TO the circulation desk of any

University of California Library

or to the

NORTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY
Bldg. 400, Richmond Field Station
University of California
Richmond, CA 94804-4698

ALL BOOKS MAY BE RECALLED AFTER 7 DAYS
2- month loans may be renewed by calling

(510)642-6753
1-year loans may be recharged by bringing books

to NRLF
Renewals and recharges may be made 4 days

prior to due date

DUE AS STAMPED BELOW

OCT171994

FC"

20,000 (4/94)

U.C. BERKELEY LIBRARIES