A WORD y>^^ t^^ MAIiVE WOODS z Q < < H U Q Z < < Hi z o u to OQ u Q r ?■- LIBRARY of CONGRESS Two Cooles Received APN 22 1907 Veoyrtffttt Entry f/ci lU ZOifYO/ LASS Cl W^c., No, / y V > ^ /' COPY B. ^ TO THOSE SEEKING REST. RECREATION. HEALTH, SPORT WITH ROD OR GUN. OR TO LIVE CLOSE TO AND TO STUDY NATURE IN ITS PRIMITIVE STATE. THIS BOOKLET IS DEDICATED Copyriglitfd iy07 by C. C. Garland INTRODUCTION Pages 5 to 3 1 of this booklet is an excerpt from " Ktaadn " and " The Maine Woods," published by Houghton, Mifflin & Co., and written by Henry David Thoreau, who visited Mt. Ktaadn (Katahdin) in August, 1 846, and whose description of that trip was first published in 1 848. Thoreau, a close observer of nature and a writer of fine English diction and whose works become more and more valued as literary productions, was one of that eminent group of writers of his day, among whom are William Cullen Bryant, Edgar Allen Poe, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Ralph Waldo Emerson, John Greenleaf Whittier, Oliver Wendall Holmes, James Russell Lowell, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Margaret Fuller, Richard Henry Dana, George William Curtis and William Ellery Channing, most of whom were his close, personal friends. This excerpt only treats of that portion of Thoreau's Ktaadn trip com- mencing at Ambajejus Lake, to the top of the mountain, and back to the West Branch of the Penobscot, on his return journey. It is over a portion of this route that one journeys in visiting Debsconeag. The means of transporta- tion are much easier, quicker and cheaper today than were those of Thoreau's time, yet the grandeur of scenery and the wildness of the country remain about the same. Pages 33 to 40 of this booklet treat of the Debsconeag Outing Camps at Debsconeag, Ktaadn, Rainbow Lake and Hurd Pond, all located in the famous Ktaadn region. Full information giving particulars " how to get there," rates of board, transportation and all other desired informatian will be found in these pages. 3 Mt. Ktaadn IS .situitcd in Pistatacjuis County, between the West and East branch of the Penobscot l^ivcr, in the heart of Maine's unbroken wilderness. Unlike most large mountain peaks, Ktaadn stands alone; a view from it being unobstructed by other \\\v,\\ mount, uns. Many persons who have (limbed most of the high mountains of the world say that Ktaadn is not only the most interesting, but that a finer and more extended view can be obtained from it than from any other mountain on this continent, if not m the world. For a more minute descri()tion read what I horeau says of it herein. The easiest, quickest, best and cheapest way to get to Ktaadn, is to make Debsconeag your starting [)oint and to have our Mr. C. C. Garland, make all arrangements for you. (See Page 37.) Illustrations. No picture can do justice to these camps, it being practically impossible to take good photographs of them, owing to their high location. The camps and scenery about them must be seen to be appreciated. DEBSCONEAG FALLS "Ktaadn" by Thoreau " In the next nine miles, which were the extent of our voyage, and which it took us the rest of the day to get over, we rowed across several small lakes, poled up numerous rapids and thoroughfares, and carried over four portages. I will give the names and distances, for the benefit of future tourists. First, after leaving Ambejijis Lake, we had a quarter of a mile of rapids to the portage, or carry of ninety rods around Ambejijis Falls; then a mile and a half through Passamagamet Lake, which is narrow and river-like, to the falls of the same name, — Ambejijis stream coming in on the right; then two miles through Katepskonegan Lake to the portage of ninety rods around Katepskonegan Falls, which name signifies " carrying-place,"— Passamagamet stream coming in on the left ; then three miles through Pockwockomus Lake, a slight expansion of the river, to the portage of forty rods around the falls of the same name,— Katepskonegan stream coming in on the left; then three quarters of a mile through Aboljacarmegus Lake, similar to the last, to the portage of forty rods around the falls of the same name ; then half a mile of rapid water to the Sowadnehunk dead-water, and the Aboljacknagesic stream. This is generally the order of names as you ascend the river : First, the lake, or, if there is no expansion, the dead-water ; then the falls ; then the stream emptying into the lake, or river above, all of the same name. First we came to Passamagamet Lake, then to Passamagamet Falls, then to Passa- magamet stream, emptying in. This order and identity of names, it will be perceived, is quite philosophical, since the dead-water or lake is always at least partially produced by the stream emptying in above; and the first fall below, which is the outlet of that lake, and where that tributary water makes its first plunge, also naturally bears the same name. At the portage around Ambejijis Falls I observed a pork barrel on the shore, with a hole eight or nine inches square cut in one side, which was set against an upright rock ; but the bears, without turning or upsetting the barrel, Editor's Nutk:- Since Thoreau's time the spelling has been changed of many of the Indian names, which he enumerates. ,^, Katepskonegan has been corrupted into the word Debsconeag. Ka epskonegan lake as herein mentioned is now known as Debsconeag dead-water . Katet^skot egan fa Is, as Debsc.meag falls: Passamagamet lake, as Passamagamet dead- wa e?; I'ockwockomus lake, as Pockwockomus dead-water .A ...Ijacknagesicstreani, as Abol stream; .aboljacarmegus lake, as Abol dead-water; Aboljacarmegus falls, as Abol falls ; atjd IVturch brook (see page 13) as Katahdm stream. r^}^ ) i-^n r »>. V ''■*■ -.; \/(E.VY,^ FROn TOP MT >\ArAHDlH. had gnawed a hole in the opposite side, which looked exactly hke an enor- mous rat-hole, big enough to put their heads in; and at the bottom of the barrel were still left a few mangled and slabbered slices of pork It is usual for the lumberers to leave such supplies as they cannot conveniently carry along with them at carries or camps, to which the next comers do not scruple to help themselves, they being the property commonly, not of an individual, but a company, who can afford to deal liberally. 1 will describe particularly how we got over some of these portages and rapids in order that the reader may get an idea of the boatman s life. At Ambe,i,is Falls, for mstance, there was the roughest path imaginable, cut through the woods; at f^rst uphill, at an angle of nearly forty-five degrees, over rocks and logs without end. This was the manner of the portage. We (\rst carried over our baggage, and deposited it on the shore at the other end; then, returning to the batteau, we dragged it up the h.ll by the painter, and onward, with frequent pauses, over half the portage. But this was a bunglmg way and would soon have worn out the boat. Commonly, three men walk over with a batteau weighing from three to five or six hundred pounds on their heads and shoulders, the tallest standing under the middle of the boat, which IS turned over, and one at each end, or else there are two at the bows More cannot well take hold at once. But this requires some practice, as well as strength, and is in any case extremely laborious, and wearing to the consti- tution, to follow. We were, on the whole, rather an invalid party and could render our boatmen but little assistance. Our two men at length took the batteau upon their shoulders, and, while two of us steadied it, to prevent it from rocking and wearing into their shoulders, on which they placed their hats folded, walked bravely over the remaining distance, with two or three pauses. In the same manner they accomplished the other portages. With this crushing weight they must climb and stumble along over fallen trees and slippery rocks of all sizes, where those who walked by the sides were contin- ually brushed off, such was the narrowness of the path. But we were fortun- ate not to have to cut our path in the first place. Before we launched our boat, we scraped the bottom smooth agam, with our knives, where it had rubbed on the rocks, to save friction. • , - To avoid the difficulties of the portage, our men determmed to warp up" the Passamagamet Falls; so while the rest walked over the portage with the baggage, I remamed in the batteau, to assist in warping up. We were in the midst of the rapids, which were more swift and tumultuous than soon any we had poled up, and had turned to the side of the stream for the pur- pose of warping, when the hoalmen, who felt some pride in their skill, and were ambitious to do something more than usual, for my benefit, as I surmised, took one more view of the rapids, or rather the falls; and, in answer to our question, whether we couldn't get up there, the other answered that he guessed he'd trv it. So we pushed again into tlic midst of the streim, and began to slruE;gle with the current. 1 sat m the middle of the boat to trim it, moving slightly to the right or left as it grazed a rock. With an uncertain and wavering motion we wound and bolted our way up, until the bow was actually raised two feet above the stern at the steepest pitch ; and then, when every- thing depended upon his exertions, the bowman's pole snapped in two ; but before he had time to take the spare one, which 1 reached him, he had saved himself with the fragment u{)on a rock ; and so we got up by a hair's breadth; and Uncle George e.xclaimed that that was never done before, and he had not tried it if he had not known whom he had got in the bow, nor he in the bow. if he had not known him in the stern. At this place there was a regu- lar portage cut through the woods, and our boatmen had never known a batteau to ascend the falls. As near as 1 can remember, there was a perpen- dicular fall here, at the worst place of the whole Penobscot River, two or three feet at least. 1 could not sufficiently admire the skill and coolness with which they performed this feat, never speaking to each other. The bowman, not looking Ijehind, but knowing exactly what the other is about, works as if he worked alone. Now sounding in vain for a bottom in fifteen feet of water, while the boat falls back several rods, held straight only with the greatest skill and exertion ; or, while the sternman obstinately holds his ground, like a turtle, the bowman springs from side to side with wonderful suppleness and dexterity, scanning the rapids and the rocks with a thousand eyes ; and now, having got a fjite at last, with a lusty shove, which makes his pole bend and (juiver, and the whole boat tremble, he gains a few feet upon the river. To i\d(\ ti) llir danger, the poles are liable at any time to be caught between the rocks, and wrenched out of their hands, leaving them at the mercy of the rapids, the rocks, as it were, lying in wait, like so many alligators, to catch tlwin 111 llirir teeth, and jerk them from your hands, before you have stolen an eflectual shove against their palates. f he pole is set close to the boat, and the prow is made to overshoot, and just turn the corners of the rocks, in the verv ti Methinks that must be where all my property lies, cast up on the rocks on some distant and unexplored stream, and waiting for an unheard-of freshet to fetch it down. O make haste, ye gods, with your winds and rains, and start the jam before it rots ! The last half mile carried us to the Sowadnehunk dead-water, so called from the stream of the same name, signifying " running between mountains," an important tributary which comes in a mile above. Here we decided to camp, about twenty miles from the dam, at the mouth of Murch Brook and the Aboljacknagesic, mountain streams, broad off from Ktaadn, and about a dozen miles from its summit, having made fifteen miles this day. We had been told by McCauslin that we should here find trout enough ; so, while some prepared the camp, the rest fell to fishing. Seizing the birch poles which some party of Indians, or white hunters, had left on the shore, and baiting our hooks with pork, and with trout, as soon as they were caught, we cast our lines into the mouth of the Aboljacknagesic, a clear, swift, shallow stream, which came in from Ktaadn. Instantly a shoal of white chivin {Leucisci pulchelli), silvery roaches, cousin-trout, or what not, large and small, prowling thereabouts, fell upon our bait, and one after another were landed amidst the bushes. Anon their cousins, the true trout, took their turn, and alternately the speckled trout, and the silvery roaches, swallowed the bait as fast as we could throw in ; and the finest specimens of both that I have ever seen, the largest one weighing three pounds, were heaved upon the shore, though at first in vain, to wiggle down into the water again, for we stood in the boat ; but soon we learned to remedy this evil ; for one, who had lost his hook, stood on shore to catch them as they fell m a perfect shower around him — sometimes, wet and slippery, full in his face and bosom, as his arms were outstretched to receive them. While yet alive, before their tints had faded, they glistened like the fairest flowers, the product of primitive rivers ; and he could hardly trust his senses, as he stood over them, that these jewels should have swam away in that Aboljacknagesic water for so long, so many dark ages; — these bright fluviatile flowers, seen of Indians only, made beauti- ful, the Lord only knows why, to swim there ; I could understand better for this, the truth of mythology, the fables of Proteus, and all those beautiful sea- monsters, — how all history, indeed, put to a terrestrial use, is mere history ; but put to a celestial, is mythology always. But there is the rough voice of Uncle George, who commands at the frying-pan, to send over what we've got, and then you may stay till morning. 13 The pork sizzles and cries for fish. Luckily for the foolish race, and this particularly foolish generation of trout, the night shut clown at last, not a little deepened by tli<- dark side of Ktaadn, which, like a permanent shadow, reared itself from the eastern bank. Lescarbot, writing in I 609, tells us that the Sieur Champdore, who, with one of the people of the Sieur de Monts, ascended some fifty leagues up the St. John in 1 608, found the fish so plenty, "c|u'en mettant la chaudiere sur le feu ils en avoient pris suffisamment pour eux disner avant (jue I'eau fust chaude." Their descendants here are no less numerous. So we accompanied Tom into the woods to cut cedar-twigs for our bed. While he went ahead with the axe and lopped off the smallest twigs of the flat-leaved cedar, the arbor-vitae of the gardens, we gathered them u[), and returned with them to the boat, until it was loaded. Our bed was made with as much care and skill as a roof is shingled ; beginning at the foot, and laying the twig end of the cedar upward, we advanced to the head, a course at a time, thus successfully covering the stub-ends, and producing a soft and level bed. For us six it was about ten feet long by six in breath. This time we lay under our tent, having pitched it more prudently with reference to the wind and the flame, and the usual huge fire blazed in front. Supper was eaten off a large log, which some freshet had thrown up. This night we had a dish of arbor-vitae, or cedar-tea, which the lumberer sometimes uses when other herbs fail, — "A quart of arbor-vitae. To make him strong and mighty," but I had no wish to repeat the experiment. It had too medicinal a taste for my palate. There was the skeleton of a moose here, whose bones some Indian hunters had picked on this very spot. In the night 1 dreamed of trout-fishing ; and, when at length I awoke, it seemed a fable that this painted fish swam there so near my couch, and rose to our hooks the last evening, and I doubted if I had not dreamed it all. So I arose before dawn to test its truth, while my companions were still sleeping. There stood Ktaadn with distinct and cloudless outline in the moonlight ; and the rippling of the rapids was the only sound to break the stillness. Standing on the shore, I once more cast my line into the stream, and found the dream to be real and the fable true. The speckled trout and silver>' roach, like fly- ing-fish, sped swiftly through the moonlight air, describing bright arcs on the dark side of Ktaadn, until moonlight, now fading into daylight, brought satiety to my mind, and (he minds of my companions, who had joined me. H By six o'clock, havins^ mounted our packs and a good blanketful of trout, ready dressed, and swung up such baggage and provision as we wished to leave behind upon the tops of saplings, to be out of the reach of bears, we started for the sutimit of the mountain, distant, as Uncle George said the boat- men called it, about four miles, but as I judged, and as it proved, nearer four- teen. He had never been any nearer the mountain than this, and there was not the slightest trace of man to guide us farther in this direction. At first, push- ing a few rods up the Aboljacknagesic, or " open-land stream, " we fastened our batteau to a tree, and traveled up the north side, through burnt lands, now partially overgrown with young aspens and other shrubbery ; but soon, re- crossing this stream, where it was about fifty or sixty feet wide, upon a jam of logs and rocks, and you could cross it by this means almost anywhere, — we struck at once for the highest peak, over a mile or more of comparatively open land, still very gradually ascending the while. Here it fell to my lot, as the oldest mountain-climber, to take the lead. So, scanning the woody side of the mountain, which lay still at an indefinite distance, stretched out some seven or eight miles in length before us, we determined to steer directly for the base of the highest peak, leaving a large slide, by which, as 1 have since learned, some of our predecessors ascended, on our left. This course would lead us parallel to a dark seam in the forest, which marked the bed of a torrent, and over a slight spur, which extended southward from the main mountain, from whose bare summit we could get an outlook over the country, and climb directly up the peak, which would then be close at hand. Seen from this point, a bare ridge at the extremity of the open land, Ktaadn presented a different aspect from any mountain 1 have seen, there being a greater propor- tion of naked rock rising abruptly from the forest ; and we looked up at this blue barrier as if it were some fragment of a wall which anciently bounded the earth in that direction. Setting the compass for a northeast course, which was the bearing of the southern base of the highest peak, we were soon buried in the woods. We soon began to meet with traces of bears and moose, and tho^e of rabbits were everywhere visible. The tracks of moose, more or less recent, to speak literally, covered every square rod on iUc sides oi the mountain ; and these animals are probably more numerous there now than ever before, being driven into this wilderness, from all sides, by the settlements. The track of a full-grown moose is like that of a cow. or larger, and of the young, like that of a calf. Sometimes we found ours(>lvcs Ir.welinu; in faint paths, which they had 16 made, like cow-paths In the woods, only far more indistinct, being rather open- ings, affording imperfect vistas through the dense underwood, than trodden paths ; and everywhere the twigs had been browsed by them, clipped as smoothly as if by a knife. The bark of trees was stripped up by them to the height of eight or nine feet, in long, narrow strips, an inch wide, still showing the dintinct marks of their teeth. We expected nothing less than to meet a herd of them every moment, and our Nimrod held his shooting-iron in readiness ; but we did not go out of our way to look for them, and, though numerous, they are so wary that the unskillful hunter might range the forest a long time before he could get sight of one. They are sometimes dangerous to encounter, and will not turn out for the hunter, but furiously rush upon him and trample him to death, unless he is lucky enough to avoid them by dodging round a tree. The largest are nearly as large as a horse, and weigh sometimes one thousand pounds ; and it is said that they can step over a five-foot gate in their ordinary walk. They are described as exceedingly awkward-looking animals, with their long legs and short bodies, making a ludicrous figure when in full run, but making great headway, nevertheless. It seemed a mystery to us how they could thread these woods, which it required all our suppleness to accomplish, — climbing, stooping, and winding, alternately. They are said to drop their long and branching horns, which usually spread five or six feet, on their backs, and make their way easily by the weight of their bodies. Our boatmen said, but I know not with how much truth, that their horns are apt to be gnawed away by vermin while they sleep. Their flesh, which is more like beef than venison, is common in Bangor market. We had proceeded on thus seven or eight miles, till about noon, with frequent pauses to refresh the weary ones, crossing a considerable mountain stream, which we conjectured to be Murch Brook, at whose mouth we had camped, all the time in woods, without having once seen the summit, and ris- ing very gradually, when the boatmen beginning to despair a little, and fear- ing that we were leaving the mountain on one side of us, for they had not entire faith in the compass, McCauslin climbed a tree, from the top of which he could see the peak, when it appeared that we had not swerved from a right line, the compass down below still ranging with his arm, which pointed to the summit. By the side of a cool mountain rill, amid the woods, where the water began to partake of the purity and transparency of the air, we stopped to cook some of our fishes, which we had brought thus far in order to save our hard bread and pork, in the use of which we had put ourselves on short 17 allowance. We soon had a fire blazing, and stood around it, under the damp and sombre forest of firs and birches, each with a sharpened stick, three or four feet in length, upon which he had spitted his trout, or roach, previously well gashed and salted, our sticks radiating like the spokes of a wheel from one centre, and each crowding his particular fish into the most desirable ex- posure, not with the truest regard always to his neighbor's rights. Thus we regaled ourselves, drinking meanwhile at the spring, till one man's pack, at least, was considerably lightened, when we again took up our line of march. At length we reached an elevation sufficiently bare to afford a view of the summit, still distant and blue, almost as if retreating from us. A torrent, which proved to be the same we had crossed, was seen tumbling down in front, literally from out of the clouds. But this glimpse at our whereabouts was soon lost, and we were buried in the woods again. The wood was chiefly yellow birch, spruce, fir, mountain-ash, or round-wood, as the Maine people call it, and moose-wood. It was the worst kind of traveling ; some- times like the densest scrub-oak patches with us. The cornel, or bunch- berries, were very abundant, as well as Solomon's seal and mooseberries. Blueberries were distributed along our whole route ; and in one place the bushes were drooping with the weight of the fruit, still as fresh as ever. It was the seventh of September. Such patches afforded a grateful repast, and served to bait the tired party forward. When any lagged behind, the cry of "blueberries " was most effectual to bring them up. Even at this elevation we passed through a moose-yard, formed by a large flat rock, four or five rods square, where they tread down the snow in winter. At length, fearing that if we held the direct course to the summit, we should not find any water near our camping-ground, we gradually swerved to the west, till, at four o'clock, we struck again the torrent which I have mentioned, and here, in view of the summit, the weary party decided to camp that night. While my companions were seeking a suitable spot for this purpose, I improved the little daylight that was left in climbing the mountain alone. We were in a deep and narrow ravine, sloping up to the clouds, at an angle of nearly forty-five degrees, and hemmed in by walls of rock, which were at first covered with low trees, then with impenetrable thickets of scraggy birches and spruce-trees, and with moss, but at last bare of all vegetation but lichens, and almost continually draped in clouds. Following up the course of the torrent which occupied this, — and I mean to lay some emphasis on this word up, — pulling myself up by the side of perpendicular falls of twenty or thirty feet, by 19 the roots of firs and birches, and then, perhaps, walking a level rod or two in the thin stream, for it took up the whole road, ascending by huge steps, as it were, a giant's stairway, down which a river flowed, 1 had soon cleared the trees, and paused on the successive shelves, to look back over the country. The torrent was from fifteen to thirty feet wide, without a tributary, and seemingly not diminishing in breadth as I advanced ; but still it came rushing and roarmg down, with a copious tide, over and amidst masses of bare rock, from the very clouds, as though a waterspout had just burst over the mountain. Leaving this at last, I began to work my way, scarcely less arduous than Satan's anciently through Chaos, up the nearest, though not the highest peak. At first scrambling on all fours over the tops of ancient black spruce-trees {Abies nigra), old as the flood, from two to ten or twelve feet in height, their tops flat and spreading, and their foliage blue, and nipped with cold, as if for centuries they had ceased growing upward against the bleak sky, the solid cold. I walked some good rods erect upon the tops of these trees, which were overgrown with moss and mountain-cranberries. It seemed that in the course of time they had filled up the intervals between the huge rocks, and the cold wind had uniformly leveled all over. Here the principal of vege- tation was hard put to it. There was apparently a belt of this kind running quite round the mountain, though, perhaps, nowhere so remarkable as here. Once slumping through, I looked down ten feet, into a dark and cavernous re- gion, and saw the stem of a spruce, on whose top I stood, as on a mass of coarse basket-work, fully nine inches in diameter at the ground. These holes were bears' dens, and the bears were even then at home. This was the sort of garden 1 made my way over, for an eighth of a mile, at the risk, it is true, of treading on some of the plants, not seeing any path through it, — certainly the most treacherous and porous country I ever traveled. " Nigh foundered on he fares. Treading the crude consistence, half on foot. Half flying. " But nothing could exceed the toughness of the twigs, — not one snapped under my weight, for they had slowly grown. Having slumped, scrambled, rolled, bounced, and walked, by turns, over this scraggy country, I arrived upon a side- hill, or rather side-mountain, where rocks, gray, silent rocks, were the flocks and herds that pastured, chewing a rocky cud at sunset. They looked at me with hard gray eyes, without a bleat or a low. This brought me to the skirt of a cloud, and bounded my walk that night. But I had already seen that 21 Maine country when I turned about, waving, flowing, rippling down below. When I returned to my companions, they had selected a camping-ground on the torrent's edge, and were resting on the ground ; one was on the sick list, rolled in a blanket, on a damp shelf of rock. It was a savage and dreary scenery enough ; so wildly rough, that they looked long to find a level and open space for the tent. We could not well camp higher, for want of fuel ; .and the trees here seemed so evergreen and sappy, that we almost doubted if they would acknowledge the influence of fire ; but fire prevailed at last, and blazed here, too, like a good citizen of the world. Even at this height we met with frequent traces of moose, as well as of bears. As there was no cedar, we made our bed of coarser feathered spruce ; but at any rate the feathers were plucked from the live tree. It was, perhaps, even a more grard and desolate place for a night's lodging than the summit would have been, being in the neighborhood of those wild trees, and of the torrent. Some more aerial and finer-spirited winds rushed and roared through the ravine all night, from time to time arousing our fire, and dispersing the embers about. It was as if we lay in the very nest of a young whirlwind. At midnight, one of my bed-fellows, being startled in his dreams by the sudden blazing up to its top of a fir-tree, whose green boughs were dried by the heat, sprang up, with a cry, from his bed, thinking the world on fire, and drew the whole camp after him. In the morning, after whetting our appetite on some raw pork, a wafer of hard bread, and a dipper of condensed cloud or waterspout, we all together began to make our way up the falls, which I have described ; this time choosing the right hand, or highest peak, which was not the one I had approached before. But soon my companions were lost to my sight behind the mountain ridge in my rear, which still seemed ever retreating before me, and I climbed alone over huge rocks, loosely poised, a mile or more, still edging toward the clouds ; for though the day was clear elsewhere, the summit was concealed by mist. The mountain seemed a vast aggregation of loose rocks, as if some time it had rained rocks, and they lay as they fell on the mountain sides, nowhere fairly at rest, but leaning on each other, all rock- ing stones, with cavities between, but scarcely any soil or smoother shelf. They were the raw materials of a planet dropped from an unseen quarry, which the vast chemistry of nature would anon work up, or work down, into the smiling and verdant plains and valleys of earth. This was an undone extremity of the globe ; as in lignite, we see coal in the process of formation. At length I entered within the skirts of the cloud which seemed forever 23 drifting over the summit, and yet would never be gone, but was generated out of tfial pure air as fast as it flowed away ; and when, a quarter of a mile farther. 1 reached the summit of the ridge, which those who have seen in clearer weather say is about five miles long, and contains a thousand acres of table-land. I was deep within the hostile ranlis of clouds, and all objects were obscured by them. Now the wind would blow me out a yard of clear sun- light, wherein I stood ; then a gray, dawning-light was all that it could ac- complish, the cloud-line ever rising and falling with the wind's intensity. Sometimes it seemed as if the summit would be cleared in a few moments, and smile in sunshine ; but what was gained on one side was lost on another. It was like sitting in a chimney and waiting for the smoke to blow away, it was. in fact, a cloud factory, these were the cloud-works, and the wind turned them off down from the cool, bare rocks. Occasionally, when the windy columns broke m to me, I caught sight of a dark, damp crag to the right or left ; the mist driving ceaselessly between it and me. It reminded me of the creations of the old epic and dramatic poets, of Atlas, Vulcan, the Cyclops, and Prometheus. Such was Caucasus and the rock where Pro- metheus was bound. /Eschylus had no doubt visited such scenery as this. It was vast, Titanic, and such as man never inhabits. Some part of the be- holder, even some vital part, seems to escape through the loose grating of his ribs as he ascends. He is more lone than you can imagine. There is less of substantial thought and fair understanding in him than in the plains where men inhabit. His reason is dispersed and shadowy, more thin and subtile, like the air. Vast, Titanic, inhuman Nature has got him at disadvantage, caught him alone, and pilfers him of some of his divine faculty. She does not smile on him as in the plains. She seems to say sternly. Why came ye here before your time. This ground is not prepared for you. Is it not enough that I smile in the valleys ? 1 have never made this soil for thy feel, this air for thy breathing, these rocks for thy neighbors. I cannot pity nor fondle thee here, but forever relentlessly drive thee hence to where 1 am kind. Why seek me where I have not called thee, and then complain because you find me but a stepmother? Shouldsl thou freeze or starve, or shudder thy life away, here is no shrine, nor altar, nor any access to my ear. "Chaos and ancient Night. I come no spy With i)ur|)ose to explore or to disturb The secrets of your rcalni, but as my way Lies through your spacious empire up to light." 24 The tops of mountains are among the unfinished parts of the globe, whither it is a slight insult to the gods to climb and pry into their secrets, and try their effect on our humanity. Only daring and insolent men, perchance, go there. Simple races, as savages, do not climb mountains, — their tops are sacred and mysterious tracts never visited by them. Pomola is always angry with those who climb to the summit of Ktaadn. According to Jackson, who, in his capacity of geological surveyor of the State, has accurately measured it,— the altitude of Ktaadn is 5300 feet, or a little more than one mile above the level of the sea, — and he adds, " It is then evidently the highest point in the State of Maine, and is the most abrupt granite mountain in New England." The peculiarities of that spacious table- land on which I was standmg, as well as the remarkable semi-circular precipice or basin on the eastern side, were all concealed by the mist. 1 had brought my whole pack to the top, not knowing but I should have to make my descent to the river, and possibly to the settled portion of the State alone, and by some other route, and wishing to have a complete outfit with me. But at length, fearing that my companions would be anxious to reach the river before night, and knowing that the clouds might rest on the mountain for days, I was com- pelled to descend. Occasionally, as I came down, the wind would blow me a vista open, through which I could see the country eastward, boundless forests, and lakes and streams, gleaming in the sun, some of them emptying into the East Branch. There were also new mountains in sight in that direction. Now and then some small bird of the sparrow family would Hit away before me, unable to command its course, like a fragment of the gray rock blown off by the wind. I found my companions where I had left them, on the side of the peak, gathering the mountain-cranberries, which filled every crevice between the rocks, together with blueberries, which had a spicier flavor the higher up they grew, but were not the less agreeable to our palates. When the country is settled, and roads are made, these cranberries will perhaps become an article of commerce. From this elevation, just on the skirts of the clouds, we could overlook the country, west and south, for a hundred miles. There it was, the State of Maine, which we had seen on the map, but not much like that, — immeasurable forest for the sun to shine on, that eastern stuff we hear of in Massachusetts. No clearing, no house. It did not look as if a solitary traveler had cut so much as a walking-stick there. Countless lakes, — Moosehead in the southwest, forty miles long by ten wide, like a gleaming 25 silver i)lattcr at the end of ihe table ; Chesuncook, eighteen long by three wide, without an island ; Millinocket, on the south, with its hundred islands ; and a hundred others without a name ; and mountains, also, whose names, for the most part, are known only to the Indians. The forest looked like a firm grass sward, and the effect of these lakes in its midst has been well compared, by one who has since visited this same spot, to that of a " mirror broken into a ihousand fragments, and wildly scattered over the grass, reflecting the full blaze of the sun." It was a large farm for somebody, when cleared. According to the Gazetteer, which was printed before the boundary question was settled, this single Penobscot county, in which we were, was larger than the whole State of Vermont, with its fourteen counties ; and this was only a part of the wild lands of Maine. We are concerned now, however, about natural, not political limits. We were about eighty miles, as the bird flies, from Bangor, or one hundred and fifteen, as we had ridden, and walked, and paddled. We had to console ourselves with the reflection that this view was probably as good as that from the peak, as far as it went ; and what were a mountain without its attendant clouds and mists ? Like ourselves, neither Bailey nor Jackson had obtained a clear view from the summit. Setting out on our return to the river, still at an early hour in llic day, we decided to follow the course of the torrent, which we supposed to be Murch Brook, as long as it would not lead us too far out of our way. We thus traveled about four miles in the very torrent itself, continually crossing and re- crossing it, leaping from rock to rock, and jumping with the stream down falls of seven or eight feet, or sometimes sliding down on our backs in a thin sheet of water. 1 his ravine had been the scene of an extraordinary freshet in the spring, ap|)arently accompanied by a slide from the mountain. It must have been filled with a stream of stones and water, at le:ist twenty feet above the present level of the torrent. lor a rod or two, on either side of its channel, the trees were barked and si)lintered up to their tops, the birches bent over, twisted, and sonietirnes finely split, like a stable-broom ; some, a foot in diam- eter, snap|)ed off, and whole clumps of trees bent over with the weight of rocks |)iled on them. In one place we noticed a rock, two or three feet in diameter, lodged nearly twenty feet high in the crotch of a tree. For the whole four miles, we saw but one rill emj)tying in, and the volume of water did not seem to be increased from the first. We traveled thus very rapidly with a downward impetus, and grew remarkably expert in leaping from rock to rock, lor jr.ip wi- must, .uid leap we dul. wlullici there was any rock at 26 the right distance or not. It was a pleasant picture when the foremost turned about and looked up the winding ravine, walled in with rocks and the green forest, to see, at intervals of a rod or two, a red-shirted or green-jacketed mountaineer against the white torrent, leaping down the channel with his pack on his back, or pausing upon a convenient rock in the midst of the torrent to mend a rent in his clothes, or unstrap the dipper at his belt to take a draught of the water. At one place we were startled by seeing, on a little sandy shelf by the side of the stream, the fresh print of a man's foot, and for a moment realized how Robinson Crusoe felt in a similar case ; but at last we remembered that we had struck this stream on our way up, though we could not have told where, and one had descended into the ravine for a drink. The cool air above and the continual bathing of our bodies m mountain water, alternate foot, sitz, douche, and plunge baths, made this walk exceedingly re- freshing, and we had traveled only a mile or two, after leaving the torrent, before every thread of our clothes was as dry as usual, owing perhaps to a peculiar quality in the atmosphere. After leaving the torrent, being in doubt about our course, Tom threw down his pack at the foot of the loftiest spruce-tree at hand, and shinned up the bare trunk some twenty feet, and then climbed through the green tower, lost to our sight, until he held the topmost spray in his hand. McCauslin, in his younger days, had marched through the wilderness with a body of troops, under General Somebody, and with one other man did all the scouting and spying service. The General's word was, " Throw down the top of that tree, and there was no tree in the Maine woods so high that it did not lose its top in such a case. I have heard a story of two men being lost once in these woods, nearer to the settlement than this, who climbed the loftiest pine they could find, some six feet in diameter at the ground, from whose top they dis- covered a solitary clearing and its smoke. When at this height, some two hundred feet from the ground, one of them became dizzy, and fainted in his companion's arms, and the latter had to accomplish the descent with him, alternately fainting and reviving, as best he could. To Tom we cried, Where away does the summit bear ? where the burnt lands ? The last he could only conjecture ; he descried, however, a little meadow and pond, lying probably in our course, which we concluded to steer for. On reaching this secluded meadow, we found fresh tracks of moose on the shore of the pond, and the water was still unsettled as if they had fled before us. A little farther, in a dense thicket, vve seemed to be still on their trail. It was a small 27 meadow, of a few acres, on the mountain side, concealed by the forest, and perhaps never seen by a white man before, where one would think that the moose might browse and bathe, and rest in peace. Pursuing this course, we soon reached the open land, which went sloping down some miles toward the Penobscot. Perhaps I most fully realized that this was primeval, untamed, and for- ever untamable Nature, or whatever else men call it, while coming down this part of the mountain. We were passing over " Burnt Land," burnt by lightning, perchance, though they showed no recent marks of fire, hardly so much as a charred stump, but looked rather like a natural pasture for the moose and deer, exceedingly wild and desolate, with occasional strips of timber cross- ing them, and low poplars springing up, and patches of blueberries here and there. 1 found myself traversing them familiarly, like some pasture run to waste, or partially reclaimed by man ; but wiien I reflected what man, what brother or sister or kinsman of our race made it and claimed it, I expected the proprietor to rise up and dispute my passage. It is difficult to conceive of a region unin- habited by man. We habitually presume his presence and influence every- where. And yet we have not seen pure Nature, unless we have seen her thus vast and drear and inhuman, though in the midst of cities. Nature was here something savage and awful, though beautiful. 1 looked with awe at the ground I trod on, to see what the Powers had made there, the form and fashion and material of their work. This was that Earth of which we have heard, made out of Chaos and Old Night. Here was no man's garden, but the unhandseled globe. It was not lawn, nor pasture, nor mead, nor wood- land, nor lea, nor arable, nor waste land. It was the fresh and natural surface o' the planet Earth, as it was made forever and ever, — to be the dwelling of man we say, — so Nature made it, and man may use it, if he can. Man was nol to be associated with it. It was Matter, vast, terrific, — not his Mother Earth that we have heard of, not for him to tread on, or be buried in, — no, it were being too familiar even to let his bones lie there, — the home, this, of Necessity and Fate. There was clearly felt the presence of a force not bound to be kind to man. It was a place for heathenism and superstitious rites, — to be inhabited by men nearer of kin to the rocks and to wild animals than we. We walked over it with a certain awe, stopping, from time to time, to pick the blueberries which grew there, and had a smart and spicy taste. Perchance where our wild pines stand, and leaves lie on their forest floor, in Concord, there were once reapers, and husbandmen planted grain ; 29 but here not even the surl.icc had hccri scaircu hy man, hut it was a specimen of what God saw lit to make this world. What is it to he admitted to a museum, to see a myriad of particular tilings, compared with being shown some star's surface, some hard matter in its home ! 1 stand in awe of my body, this matter to which 1 am bound has become so strange to me. I fear not spirits, ghosts, of which I am one, — ihaf my body might, but I fear bodies, 1 tremble to meet them. \\ hat is this I itan that has possession of me ? 1 alk of mysteries ! Think of our life in nature, — daily to be shown matter, to come in contact with it, — rocks, trees, wind on our cheeks ! the solid earth ! the actual world ! the common sense ! Contact ! Contact ! Who are we ? where are we ? Erelong we recognized some rocks and other features in the landscape which we had purposely impressed on our memories, and, quickening our pace, by two o'clock we reached the batteau. Here we had expected to dine on trout, but in this glaring sunlight they were slow to take the bait, so we were compelled to make the most of the crumbs of our hard bread and our pork, which were both nearly exhausted. Meanwhile we deliberated whether we should go up the river a mile farther, to Gibson's clearing, on the Sowadnehunk, where there was a deserted log-hut, in order to get a half- inch auger, to mend one of our spike-poles with. There were young spruce trees enough around us, and we had a spare spike, but nothing to make a hole with. But as it was uncertain whether we should find any tools left there, we patched up the broken pole, as well as we could, for the downward voyage, in which there would be but little use for it. Moreover, we were unwilling to lose any time in this expedition, lest the wind should rise before we reached the larger lakes, and detain us ; for a moderate wind produces quite a sea on these waters, in which a batteau will not live for a moment ; and on o.ie occa- sion McCauslin had been delayed a week at the head of the North Twin, wIirIi is only four miles across. We were nearly out of provisions, and ill prepared in this respect for what might possibly prove a week's journey round by the shore, fording innumerable streams, and threading a trackless forest, should any accident happen to our boat. It was with regret that we turned our backs on Chesuncook, which McCauslin had formerly lugged on, and the Allegash lakes. I here were still longer rapids and portages above ; among the last the Rippogenus Portage, which he described as the most diffuult on the river, and three miles long. The whole length of the Penobscot is two hundred and seventy-dve miles, and 30 we are still nearly one hundred miles from its source. Hodge, the assistant State Geologist, passed up this river in 1837, and by a portage of only one mile and three quarters crossed over into the Allegash, and so went down that into the St. John, and up the Madawaska to the Grand Portage across to the St. Lawrence. His is the only account that I know of an expedition through Canada in this direction. He thus describes his first sight of the latter river, which, to compare small things with great, is like Balboa's first sight of the Pacific from the mountains of the Isthmus of Darien. " When we first came in sight of the St. Lawrence, " he says, " from the top of a high hill, the view was most striking, and much more interesting to me from having been shut up in the woods for the two previous months. Directly before us lay the broad river, extending across nine or ten miles, its surface broken by a few islands and reefs, and two ships riding at anchor near the shore. Beyond, extended ranges of uncultivated hills, parallel with the river. The sun was just going down behind them, and gilding the whole scene with its parting rays." About four o'clock, the same afternoon, we commenced our return voy- age, which would require but little if any poling." o 1- J MB fe*- -M kr *^3 CkT'*" ^'^ ^- J m| 2^ ^^ ^ -am Si 1 *p ^ 31 V 1-}, ^ /'• ■;. ,.^ >n i^iArvi \ \ ' \. ^i^ l^lFt Af De-BSCOHHAG The Debsconeag Outing Camps are conducted as a public outing resort. Located near Mt. Ktaadn, in Piscat- aquis County, Maine, and were formerly owned by the Debsconeag Fish & Game Club. They are known also as Garland's Camps. They will continue to be under the popular and efficient management of Mr. C. C. Garland, who first established and conducted these camps for the club. Home Camps. The Home Camps, or principal camps of this group, are located on the north shore of First Debsconeag Lake facing south. These consist of a gen- eral camp containing an assembly room, formerly the Club-house, and a separate dining-room and kitchen building, several sleeping lodges or small cottages arranged for parties and families, and tents having board floors and log walls upon which the tent rests, making the combined walls about six to seven feet in height. These camps are substantially and comfortably built of peeled logs and have commodious covered piazzas. All these camps are kept immaculately clean and are comfortably furnished with spring beds, mattresses, clean linen and bedding, easy chairs and open Franklin stoves. The floors of the tents extend to form a commodious piazza, which, with the tent proper, is covered with a large fly, protecting the tent from both the sun and rain. These tents are furnished with spring beds, easy chairs, and toilet articles the same as the cottages. They have become most popular and are as much sought after as the private camps. All tents and camps give privacy to ladies. The sanitation about these premises is carefully looked after. Bathing. Excellent sand beaches near by afford good facilities for an invigorating bath in the crystal waters of Debsconeag. The greater percentage of the camps' guests resort to these beaches daily. Be sure to take your bathing suit with you. 33 tefc Canoeing. Canoeing facilities could be no better and tlie variety and beauty of scenery cannot be surpassed. f'robably there is no place in Maine where so many different canoe and fishing trijjs and daily picnic excursions can be taken as from Debsconeag. The Table. I o set a table unefjualled in the Maine woods, serving in season all the delicacies of forest and stream, is the aim of the management. This camp has its own vegetable garden and hennery and draws lilxially from the Bangor markets. To those persons tired and worn out frf)m business cares, recovering from pneumonia, having nervous prostration, bronchial or catarrhal troubles, insomnia, constipation, stomach troubles, hay fever (unknown at Debsconeag), pleurisy, or needing a change from any course, we offer special advantages, and solicit correspondence regarding the same. 1 o such, our table will be found attractive. No alcoholics or tuberculous patients, or any person who would be objectionable to other guests, will be entertained at these camps. The atmos- phere at Debsconeag will be found cool, dry and bracing. The spring water IS absolutely pure and soft and many persons are greatly benefitted by its use. It comes to the table clear as crystal, cool as ice water, from a near-by cave. Fishing. No part of Maine has as great a variety of fishing, as is here found in something like 30 lakes and ponds within a radius of three miles of the Home Camps. Trout being especially abundant. Large numbers of gamy Lake I rout are taken in front of these camps, in First Debsconeag Lake, many weighing from 12 to 20 [)ounds and measuring three feet in length. Rainbow Lake Camps. 1 he Rainbow Lake Camps consist of a large two story main camp in which IS the diriiiig-room and kitchen, and two separate log sleeping lodges. I (Ills are also used during the warm months. I loretofoie these camps have been used as outl\ing cam|w ; this season they will be run lnc^ependent of the home camps and will be in charge of a competent man and his wife, who will cater to the roiiilorl of their guests. 34 Canoes are kept here for rental to guests at the rate of fifty cents per day. At Rainbow, one can come closer in touch with nature, with the usual discomforts eliminated, than at any far distant camp in the Maine woods. The beds are of woven wire, piled high with fresh-picked fir, fragrant with the breath of the forest. The menu contains just such articles as are closely associated with primitive forest life, but which are cooked in a manner superior to that of the average woodsman. One's fishing may be done comfortably from the mammoth rocks on the lake shore, from canoes or from a large log float anchored near by the camps for that purpose. Rainbow Lake is an ideal location for either a permanent stay or for a few days' side trip from the main camps at Debsconeag. The distance from these is about six miles, but one-half of it is made by water, the balance being over well cleared trails. In traveling between these camps, four lakes and ponds are traversed, on each of which are kept relays of canoes, thus render- ing carrying of canoes unnecessary. The average person can make the trip in three hours. Rainbow Lake's Famous Trout. In Rainbow Lake, five miles long by a mile wide, there are more square- tailed trout than m any other body of water of the same size in the country. The bottom is covered with great boulders, from beneath which bubble the springs from which the lake is fed, and in the interstices of which the trout hide. It IS one of the most unique sights to lower a bait toward one of these rocky formations. For a moment there is not a fish to be seen ; then from a dozen crevices the trout come flashing toward the surface, each anxious to secure the coveted morsel. A few seconds after, every trout has again dis- appeared, save those struggling at the leader, and so wonderfully clear is the water that they may be distinctly seen at a depth of 40 feet. It may seem exaggeration to say that " square-tailed " or " brook trout " (Salmo fontinalis) may be taken at any time in this lake at any time, day or night ; but one has only to try to be convinced. Unlike trout in general, those at Rainbow take the fly in the warmest weather, and bite well at all seasons, chiefly during the mornings and evenings. These fish make a strenuous fight when hooked, are firm in flesh, light pink in color, and will be found of a delicious flavor. They vary in size from one- quarter pound to five pounds, 35 >|Alhl»OIV'^i.££P/M()I0fl6F V *.. 1 F^AiNe>ow Camp Ktaadn Camp. Close to the Southwest Slide trail, near the timber line, leading up Ktaadn, is a finely constructed and comfortable camp, another of this group, built especially for the use of our guests wishing to climb the mountain. This camp is kept furnished with cooking utensils and blankets, but not with sup- plies. The latter are toted by the guides accompanying each party. By a measurement made in 1 906, the height of Mt. Ktaadn at West Peak, its highest point, is 5268 feet above the sea. Making the ascent of Ktaadn is a feature of a stay at Debsconeag, this being the nearest point of departure. {The management will make special arrangements to tal^e parties from their homes to the mountain and return arranging all details and paying all bills, for a fixed sum.) Probably the best route upon the mountain is over the Abol-Ktaadn stream trail. The distance, via the West Branch, from Debsconeag to the foot of the trail is about six miles. Parties visiting the mountain should plan on taking three days from Debsconeag. The first day the Ktaadn camp should be made ; the second day, visit the top of the mountain and return to the Ktaadn camp ; and the third day, return to the home camps. By carrying out this program, haste at no time need be made, and the trip will be found a comparatively easy one. Ktaadn stream along the mountain trail may be fished on both the first and third days if one is so inclined. Hurd Pond (more properly a lake) is one mile north of the home camps ; is about two miles wide by three miles long. Its waters are wonderfully clear ; is well stocked with trout, lake trout, and some good sized landlocked salmon are here taken. On the shore of the lake, about three miles from Debsconeag, we have for the convenience of our guests a small outlying camp. Here one can spend the day or a few days by taking supplies from the home camp. Guide Laws. Non-residents of the State of Maine are not allowed to enter upon the wild lands of the State and camp, or kindle fires thereon, while engaged in climbing or fishing without being in charge of a registered guide during the months of May, June, July, August, September, October and November, but // is not necessary for a non-resident to employ a guide, prodded he is stopping with the omner of a "Registered Camp" and does not camp, or kindle fires, '^hese camps are registered camps. 37 Rates and Accommodations. Persons wishing to visit Debsconeag and other camps, will do well to write early for accommodations. Rates of board and lodging, $14.00 per week and upwards. Guides' board at the Home Camps, $1.50 per day. Rates at Rainbow Lake Camps, a uniform rate of $2.00 per day. Guides' wages are $3.00 per day and their board ; this rate includes the use of one canoe. Canoes and boats may be hired at the rate of fifty cents per day or three dollars per week. A supply of standard rods and fishing tackle, moccasins, heavy wool Maine socks, cigars and tobacco, eire kept for sale at the Home Camps, so that one leaving home on short notice is sure to find here all he may need for his comfort and pleasure on arrival. To these camps, guests may bring their own guides, canoes and outfits, or, upon proper notice, the manager will supply guides, and all, or any part of an outfit, including tents and canoes. Reliable registered guides make their headquarters at these camps. Camera. You should not fail to take your camera and plenty of films with you, that you may carry home pleasant memories of the picturesque scenery and of live game so plentiful in this region. Baggage. Visitors to these camps should avoid bringing heavy baggage. Grips and bags are preferable to trunks and are less expensive to transport. Trunks may be left at the South Twin House and contents there transferred to grips, bags, or telescope cases. How to get there. Buy tickets to South Twin, Maine. A through sleeper leaves Boston ua Boston & Maine, Maine Central and Bangor & Aroostook R. R., about 7.00 P. M., and arrives at South Twin about 6.00 o'clock the following morning. The last train leaving Boston arrives at South Twin about 1 0.00 o'clock the next morning, but the sleeper is switched off at Milo Junction, hence we recommend taking the train leaving Boston about 7.00 P. M. This gives ample time to make any shifts of outfit before taking the steamer, which leaves South Twin, after the arrival of the train from the west, about 1 0.00 A. M. 39 APR 22 1907 (Trains only stop at South Twin on siKnal, or notice to the conductor on the train.) The South I win I louse is located at South I win, wlicre one s trunks and heavy baggage may be left during his slay in the woods. Steamers operated by Capt. Pearl S. Willey, who handles our business on the lakes, start from South Twin daily except Sunday, about 10.30 A. M. after the arrival of the train from the west, for Ambejijis, return- ing in season for [)assengers to take the afternoon train for the west. At Ambejijis these steamers are met daily, Sunday excepted, by competent employees of these camps with canoes or boats to carry passengers and their baggage to Debsconeag. The "Debsconeag" post office is located at the Home Camps, which is also a U. S. Weather Bureau Station. Mail arrives and departs daily, except Sunday. The nearest express and telegraph office is South Twin. Correspondence is solicited and will receive prompt attention. Address all communications to C. C. Garland, Manager, Debsconeag, Piscataquis County, Maine. V • ;i; v'^ 40 The shortest, quickest, only direct route to THE GREAT FOREST RECREATION REGION OF NORTHERN MAINE Solid vestibuled trains. Pullman sleeping and parlor cars. Dining cars. Strictly modem equipment and service throughout. "In The Maine Woods" Our 1907 Guidebook offering most attractive news and views oi northern Maine's famous fishing, hunting and recreation region — a book of 1 92 pages with over 100 actual Maine woods scenes — mailed for 15 cents in stamps. Address GEO. M. HOUGHTON, Passenger Traffic Manager, BANGOR. MAINE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 013 995 722 7