Qass Rnr,k . k 2, Vh l//y>J^/^f / €l)e ^rccn ^^apcc ^txit^. W. H. H. MURRAY. €l)c J^ctjcntccntf) €l)0Uj5anti. ADVENTURES IN THE ADIRONDACKS h kindled a thousand camp fires, and taugln usiiiid f>ens how to ■write of nature. — Wendell Phillips. BOSTON: CUPPLES & HURD, Entered at the Post Office, Boston, aa second-class matter. impoi'tant New Books. A New Book by W. H. H. Murray. DAYLIGHT LAND. The experiences, incidents, and adveutureS; humorous and otherwise, which befell Judge John Doe, Tourist, of San Francisco; Mr Cephas Pepperell, Capitalist, of Boston ; Colonel Goffe, the Man from New Hampshire, and divers others, in tlieir Parlor-Car Excursion ovet Prairie and Mountain ; as recorded and set forth by W. H. H. Murray. Superbly illustrated with 150 cuts in various colors by the best artists. Contents: — Introduction — The Meeting — A Breakfast — A Very Hopeful Alan — The Big Nepigon Trout — The Man in the Velveteen Jacket — The Capitalist — Camp at Rush Lake — Big Game — A Strange Midnight Ride — Banff — Sunday among the Mountains — Nameless Mountains — The Great ( llacier — The Hermit of Frazer Canon — Fish and Fishing in British Colum- l>ia — Vancouver City — Parting at Victoria. Svo. 350 pages. Unique paper covers, $2.y>\ half leather binding, 53.50. Mr. Murray has chosen the north-western side of the continent for the scene of this book ; a region of country which is little known by the average reader, but which in its scenery, its game, and its vast material and undeveloped resources, supplies tlie author with a subject which has not been trenched upon even by the magazines, and which he has treated in that lively and spirited manner for which he is especially gifted. The result is a volume full of novel information of the country, humorous and pathetic incidents, vivid descriptions of its magnificent -scenery, shrewd forecasts of its future wealth and greatness when developed, illustrated and embellished with such lavishness and artistic elegance as has never before been attempted in any similar work in this coun- try. ADIRONDACK TALES. By VV. H. H. Mikkav. Illustrated. i2mo. 300 pages. $1.25, Containing John Norton's Christmas — Henry Herbert's Thanksgiving — .K -Strange Visitor — Lost in the Woods — A Jolly. Camp — Was it Suicide? — I'lie Gambler's Death — The Old Beggar's Dog — The Ball — Wlio was he ? Short stories in Mr. Murray's best vein — humorous; pathetic; full of the ipirit of tlie woods. HOW DEACON TUBMAN AND PARSON WHITNEY KEPT NEW YEARS, and other Stories. By W. H. H. Murray. i6mo. Illustrated. Ji.ij. A HEART REGAINED. By Carmen Svlva (Queen of Roumania) Translated by Mary A. Mitchell. Fcap. Svo. Cloth. |i.oo. A charming story by this talented authoress, told in her vivid, picturesque manner, and showing how patient waiting attains to ultimate reward. Cupples and HurJ, ""fiooksl^/iers. BOSTON Library Ag^fufs, ADVENTURES THE WILDERNESS; OR, CAMP-LIFE IN THE ADIRONDACKS WILLIAM H. H. MURRAY. "The mountains call you, and the vales; The woods, the streams, and each ambrosial breeze That fans the e\er-undulating sky." ARMSTRONG'S Art of Presemins Hcxlth U'iTH ILL U^ TRA TWNS. BOSTO]Sr CUPPLES AND HURD PL'BLISHERS r: Entered according to Act of Congress, m the year 1869, by FIEIiDS, OSGOOD, & CO., n the Clerk's OfBce of the District Court of tlie District of Massachusetts Printed by CUPPLES AND HURD at Wc^z SIgonqiitu ^rcss. 27 Eeach Street, Boston. To my friend ami companion, 0. II. Platt, of Meriden, Conn., witli whom I have passed many happy hom'S by mountain and stream, and shared the sportsman's tri- umph and the sportsman's toil; in memory of many a tramp and midnight bivouac, and as a token of my very sincere regard and friendship, this book is affectionately dedicated. W. H. H. M. Boston, April, 1869. / NEW EOUTE TO THE ADIEONDACKS. ON page 42 of this work the author com- mends the Keeseville route to parties enter- ing the wilderness from Lake Champlain. Since its publication, information has reached him of such a nature as to induce the recommendation of the Plattsloi^g route as well. The latter is comparatively an easy route. From Plattsburg cars run to Point of Eocks (or Ausahle Forks), intersecting the Keeseville road, and saving some sixteen miles of unpleasant staging from Port Kent. At Fouquet's Hotel, I'lattsburg, every facility for rest and prepara- tion can he had. At Point of Eocks parties can arrange to meet their means of conveyance to JNIartin's, Smith's, Bartlett's, and other houses at St. Eegis. Invalids, or persons not in robust health, Avho may venture upon this trip, will find Plattsburg a pleasant and convenient place for recuperation before cutting loose from all the amenities of civilization. The author would particularly advise all par- ties, before starting, to engage by letter convey- ance from Point of Eocks to their destination. CONTENTS. Introduction I. TnE Wilderness. s Why I go to the Wilderness Sporting Facihties .... What it costs in the Wilderness Outfit Where to buy Tackle Guides ....... How to get to the Wilderness . Hotels When to visit the Wilderness . Healthfulness of Camp Life . What Sections of the Wilderness to visit Black Flies Mosquitoes ..... Ladies' Outfit Wild Animals Provisions ...... Bill of Fare IL The Nameless Creek in. Running the Rapids lY. The Ball Pags 9 15 21 2G 30 32 40 44 43 50 52 55 50 58 60 62 62 65 VI CONTENTS. V. Loon-Shooting in a Thunder-Storm . .101 VI. Crossing the Carry 114 VII. EoD AND Reel 126 VIII. Phantom Falls 141 IX. Jack-Shooting in a Foggy Night . .168 X. Sabbath in the Woods .... 193 XI. A Ride with a Mad Horse in a Freight- Car • . 203 APPENDIX. Beach's Sight 233 INTRODUCTION. SEVEEAL of the chapters composing tliis vohime were originally published in the " Meriden Literary Eecorder," during the fall and winter of 1867. Tln-ougli it they received a wide circulation, and brouglit to the author many let- ters from all parts of the country, urging him to continue the series, and, when completed, publish them in a more permanent form. Lawyers, 'phj- sicians, clergymen, and sporting men were united for once in the expression of a common desire. Not a few delightful acquaintances were made through this medium. It was suggested by these unseen friends, that such a series of descriptive pieces, unencumbered with the ordinary reflec- tions and jottings of a tourist's book, free from the slang of guides, and questionable jokes, and '■' bear stories," with which works of a similar character have to a great extent been filled, would be gladly welcomed by a large number of people who, born in the country, and familiar in boy- hood with the gun and rod, still retain, in un- 8 LMHODUO riON. diminislied freshness and vigor, their early lovo for manly exercises and field sports. Each article, it was urged, should stand alone by itself, having its own framework of time and character, and representing a single experience. The favorable re- ception the articles thus published received, and the cordial communications from total strangers which they elicited, together with a strong, ever-present desire on my part to encourage manly exercise in the open air, and familiarity with Nature in lier wildest and grandest aspects, persuaded me into concurrence with the suggestion. The composi- tion of these articles has furnished me, amid grave and arduous labors, with mental recreation, from time to time, almost equal to that which I enjoyed when passing through the experiences which they are intended to describe. In the hope that w]mt I have written may con- tribute to the end suggested, and prove a source of pleasure to many who, like myself, were " born of hunter's breed and blood," and avIio, pent up in narrow offices and narrower studies, weary of the city's din, long for a breath of mountain air and the free life by field and flood, I subscribe myself their friend and brother. I. THE WILDERNESS. WHY I GO THERE, — HOW I GET THERE, — WHAT I DO THERE, — AND WHAT IT COSTS. THE Adirondack Wilderness, or the " Nortli Woods," as it is sometimes called, lies be- tween the Lakes George and Champlain on the east, and the river St. Lawrence on the north and west. It reaches northward as far as the Canada line, and southward to Booneville. Its area is about that of the State of Connecticut. The southern part is known as the Brown Tract liegion, with which the whole wilderness by some is confused, but with no more accuracy than any one county might be said to comprise an entire State. Indeed, " Brown's Tract " is the least interesting portion of the Adirondack region. It lacks the loiiy mountain scenery, the intricate mesh-work of lakes, and the wild grandeur of the country to the north. It is the lowland district, comparatively tame and uninviting. Not until you reach the Racquette do you get a glimpse of the magnificent scenery which makes tliis wilder- ness to ri\-al Switzerland. There, on the very 1* 10 ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. ridge-board of the vast water-shed which slopes northward to the St. Lawrence, eastward to the Hudson, and southward to the Mohawk, you can enter upon a voyage the like of which, it is safe to say, the world does not anywhere else furnish. For hundreds of miles I have boated up and down that wilderness, going ashore only to " carry " around a fall, or across some narrow ridge divid- ing the otherwise connected lakes. For weeks I have paddled my cedar shell in all directions, swinging northerly into the St. Regis chain, west- ward nearly to Potsdam, southerly to the Black Eiver country, and from thence penetrated to that almost un visited region, the " South Branch," with- out seeing a face but my guide's, and the entire circuit, it must be remembered, was through a ■wilderness yet to echo to the lumberman's axe. It is estimated that a thousand lakes, many yet unvisited, lie embedded in this vast forest of pine and hemlock. From the summit of a mountain, two years ago, I counted, as seen by my naked eye, forty-four lakes gleaming amid the depths of the wilderness like gems of purest ray amid the folds of emerald-colored velvet. Last summer I met a gentleman on the Eacquette who had just received a letter from a brother in Switzerland, an artist by profession, in which he said, that, " having tra\'elled over all Switzerland, and the Ehine Qjad Ehone region, he had not met with scenery WHY I GO THERE. H which, judged from a purely artistic point of view, combined so many beauties in connection with such grandeur as the lakes, mountains, and forest of the Adirondack region presented to the gazer's eye." And yet thousands are in Europe to-day as tourists who never gave a passing thought to this marvellous country lying as it were at their very doors. Another reason why I visit the Adirondacks, and 'urge others to do so, is because I deem the excursion eminently adapted to restore impaired health. Indeed, it is marvellous what benefit physically is often derived from a trip of a few weeks to these woods. To such as are afflicted with that dire parent of ills, dyspepsia, or have lurking in their system consumptive tendencies, I most earnestly recommend a month's experience among the pines. The air which you there inhale is such as can be found only in high mountainous regions, pure, rarefied, and bracing. The amount of venison steak a consumptive will consume after a week's residence in that appetizing at- mosphere is a subject of daily and increasing wonder. I have laiown delicate ladies and fragile igchool-girls, to whom all food at home was dis- tasteful and eating a pure matter of duty, average a gain of a pound per day for the round trij). This is no exaggeration, as some who will read these lines know. The spruce, hemlock, balsam. 12 ADVKNTIKES liN THK WILDKKXKSS. and pine, wliicli largely compose this wilderness, yield upon tlie air, and especially at night, all their curative qualities. Many a night have I laid down uj)on my bed of balsam-boughs and been lulled to sleep by the murmur of waters and the low sighing melody of the pines, while the air was laden with the mingled perfume of cedar, of balsam and the water-lily. Not a few, far advanced in that dread disease, consump- tion, have found in this wilderness renewal of life and health. I recall a young man, the son of wealthy parents in New York, w^ho lay dying in that great city, attended as he was by the best skill that money could secure. A friend calling upon him one day chanced to speak of the Adir<)n- dacks, and that many had found help from a trip to their region. From that moment he pined for the woods. He insisted on what his family called " his insane idea," that the mountain air and the aroma of the forest would cure him. It was his daily request and entreaty that he might go. At last his parents consented, the more readily because the physicians assured them that their son's recovery was impossible, and his death a mere matter of time. They started with him for the north in search of life. When he arrived at the point where he was to meet his guide he was too reduced to walk. The guide seeing his con- dition refused to take lam into the woods, fear- WHY 1 GO THERE. 13 ing, as he plainly expressed it, that he would "die on his hands." At last another guide was pre- vailed upon to serve him, not so much for the money, as he afterwards told me, but because he pitied the young man, and felt that " one so near death as he wais should be gratified even in his whims." Tlie boat was half filled with cedar, pine, and balsam boughs, and the young man, carried in the arms of his guide from the house, was laid at full length upon them. The camp vitensils were put at one end, the guide seated himseK at the other, and the little boat passed with the living and the dying down the lake, and was lost to the group watching them amid the islands to the south. This was in early June. The first week the guide carried the young man on his l)ack over all the portages, lifting him in and out of the boat as he might a child. But the healing properties of the balsam and pine, which were his bed by day and night, began to exert their powder. Awake or asleep, he inhaled their fragrance. Their pungent and healing odors penetrated his diseased and irritated lungs. Tlie second day out his cough was less sharp and painful. At the end of the first week he could walk by leaning on the pad- dle. The second week he needed no support. The third week the cough ceased entirely. From that time he improved with wonderful rapidity. 14 ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. He " went in " the first of June, carried in the arms of liis guide. The second week of Novem- ber he " came out " bronzed as an Indian, and as hearty. In five months he had gained sixty-five pounds of flesh, and flesh, too, " weU packed on," as they say in the woods. Coming out he car- ried tlie boat over all portages ; the very same over which a few months before the guide had carried him, and pulled as strong an oar as any amateur in the wilderness. His meeting with his family I leave the reader to imagine. The wilderness received him almost a corpse. It re- turned him to his home and the world as happy and healthy a man as ever bivouacked under its pines. This, I am aware, is an extreme case, and, as such, may seem exaggerated ; but it is not. I might instance many other cases which, if less startling, are equally corroborative of the general statement. There is one sitting near me, as I write, the color of whose cheek, and the clear brightness of whose eye, cause my heart to go out in ceaseless gratitude to the woods, amid which she found that health and strength of which they are the proof and sign. For five summers have we visited the wilderness. From four to seven weeks, each year, have we breathed the breath of the mountains ; bathed in the waters which sleep at their base ; and made our couch at night of SPORTING FACILITIES. 15 moss and balsam-boughs, beneath the whispering trees. I feel, therefore, that I am able to speak from experience touching this matter ; and I be- lieve that, all things being considered, no portion of our country surpasses, if indeed any equals, in health-giving qualities, the Adirondack Wilderness. SPORTING FACILITIES. This wilderness is often called the " Sportsman's Paradise " ; and so I hold it to be, when all its ad- vantages are taken into account. If any one goes to the North Woods, expecting to see droves of deer, he will return disappointed. He can find them west and north, around Lake Superior, and on the Plains ; but nowhere east of the AUeghanies. Or if one expects to find troTit averaging three or four pounds, eager to break surface, no matter where or when he casts his fly, he will come back from his trip a " sadder and a wiser man." If tliis is his idea of what constitutes a " sportsman's paradise," I advise him not to go to the Adirondacks. Deer and trout do not abound there in any such num- bers : and yet there are enough of both to satisfy any reasonable expectation. Gentlemen often ask me to compare the " North Woods " witli the " Maine Wilderness." The fact is, it is difficult to make any comparison between the two sections, 16 ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. they are so unlike. But I am willing to gi\'e in}- reasons of preference for the Adirondacks. The fact is, nothing could induce me to visit Maine. If I was going east at all, I should keep on, nor stop until I reached the Provinces. I could never bring my mind to pass a mouth in Maine, with the North Woods within forty-eight hours of me. I will tell you Avhy. Go where you will, in Maine, the lumhcrmen have been before you ; and lumbermen are the curse and scourge of the wil- derness. Wherever the axe sounds, the pride and beauty of the forest disappear. A lumbered dis- trict is the most dreary and dismal region the eye of man ever beheld. The mountains are not merely shorn of trees, but from base to summit fires, kindled by accident or malicious purpose, have sw^ept their sides, leaving the blackened rocks exposed to the eye, and here and there a few unsightly trunks leaning in all directions, from which all the branches and green foliage have been burnt away. The streams and trout-pools are choked with saw-dust, and filled with slabs and logs. The rivers are blockaded with "booms" and lodged timber, stamped all over the ends with the owner's "mark." Every eligible site for a camp has been appropriated ; and bones, offal, horse-manure, and all the cUhris of a deserted lumbermen's village is strewai around, offensive both to eye and nose. The hills and shores are SPORTING FACILITIES. 17 littered ■svitli rotten wood, in all stages of decom- position, emitting a damj), mouldy odor, and send- ing forth countless millions of flies, gnats, and mos- quitoes to prey upon you. Now, no number of deer, no quantities of trout, can entice me to such a locality. He who fancies it can go ; not I. In the Adirondack Wilderness you escape this. There the lumberman has never been. No axe has sounded along its mountain-sides, or echoed across its peaceful waters. The forest stands as it has stood, from the beginning of time, in all its maj- esty of growth, in all the beauty of its unshorn foliage. No fires have blackened the hills ; no logs obstruct the rivers ; no saw-dust taints and colors its crystal waters. The promontories which stretch themselves half across its lakes, the islands which hang as if suspended in their waveless and translucent depths, have never been marred b}'' the presence of men careless of all but gain. You choose the locality which l)est suits your eye, and build your lodge under unscarred trees, and upon a carpet of moss, untrampled by man or beast. There you live in silence, unbroken by any sounds save such as you yourself may make, away from all the business and cares of civilized life. Another reason of my preference for the Adiron- dack region is based upon the mode and manner in which your sporting is done. Now I do not plead guilty to the vice of laziness. If necessary, I can 18 ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. work, and work sliarply ; but I have no special love for labor, in itseK considered; and certain kinds of work, I am free to confess, I abhor ; and if there is one kind of work which I detest more than another, it is tramping; and, above all, tramping through a lumbered district. How the thorns lacerate you ! How the brambles tear your clothes and pierce your flesh ! How the mesh- work of fallen tree-tops entangles you ! I would not walk two miles tlirough such a country for all the trout that swim ; and as for ever casting a fly from the slippery surface of an old mill-dam, no one ever saw me do it, nor ever will. I do not say that some may not find amusement in it. I only know that I could not. Now, in the North Woods, owing to their marvellous water-communi- cation, you do all your sporting from your boat. If you wish to go one or ten miles for a " fish," your guide paddles you to the spot, and serves you while you handle the rod. This takes from recreation every trace of toil. You have all the excitement of sporting, without any attending physical weariness. And what luxury it is to course along the shores of these secluded lakes, or glide down the winding reaches of these rivers, overhung by the outlying pines, and fringed with water-lilies, mingling their fragrance with the odors of cedar and balsam ! To me this is better than tramping. I ha\e sported a month at a time, without walldng as many miles SPORTING FACILiriES. 19 as there were weeks in the month. To my mind, this peculiarity elevates the Adirondack region above all its rivals, East or West, and more than all else justifies its otherwise pretentious claim as a " Sportsman's Paradise." In beauty of scenery, in health-giving qualities, in the easy and romantic manner of its sporting, it is a paradise, and so will it continue to be while a deer leaves his track upon the shores of its lakes, or a trout shows himseK above the surface of its waters. It is this peculiarity also which makes an excursion to this section so easy and delightful to ladies. Tliere is nothing in the trip which the most delicate and fragile need fear. And it is safe to say, that, of all who go into the woods, none enjoy the experiences more than ladies, and certain it is that none are more benefited by it. But what about game, I hear the reader inquire. Are deer plenty ? Is the fishing good ? Well, I reply, every person has his own standard by which to measure a locality, and therefore it is difficult to answer with precision. Moreover, it is not alone the presence of game which makes good sporting. Many other considerations, such as the skill of the sportsman, and the character and ability of the guide, enter into this problem and make the solution difficult. A poor shot, and a green hand at the rod, will have poor success anywhere, no matter how good the sportmg is; 20 ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. and I have known parties to be "starved out," where other men, with better guides, were meeting with royal success. With a guide who under- stands his business, I would undertake to feed a party of twenty persons the season through, and seldom should they sit down to a meal lacking either trout or venison. I passed six weeks on the Eacquette last summer, and never, save at one meal, failed to see both of the two delicious arti- cles of diet on my table. Generally speaking, no inconvenience is experienced in this direction. Always observing the rule, not to kill more than the camp can eat, which a true sportsman never transgresses, I have paddled past more deer within easy range than I ever lifted my rifle at. The same is true in reference to trout. I have unjointed my rod wlien the water was alive with leaping fish, and experienced more pleasure as I sat and saw them rise for food or i)lay, than any thoughtless violator of God's laws could feel in wasting the stores which Nature so bountifully opens for our need. I am not in favor of " game laws," passed for the most part in the interest of the few and the rich, to the deprivation of the poor and the many, but I would that fine and imprisonment both might be the punishment of him who, in defiance of every liumane instinct and reverential feeling, out of mere love for "sport," as some are pleased to call it, directs a WHAT IT COSTS. 21 ball or hooks a fish when no necessity demands it. Such ruthless destruction of life is slaughter, — coarse, cruel, unjustifiable butchery. Palliate it who may, practise it who can, it is just that and nothing short. To sum up what I have thus far written, I say to all brother sportsmen, that, all things considered, the sporting, both with rifle and rod, in the North Woods is good, — good enough to satisfy any reasonable desire. In this, please reme'mber that I refer to the wilderness proper, and not to the lumbered and inhabited and there- fore over-hunted borders of it. I have known parties to take board at North Elba, or Malone, or Luzerne, and yet insist that they " had been into the Adirondacks." WHAT IT COSTS. This I know to some is a matter of no interest at all, but to others, among whom, unfortunately, the \vriter must number himself, it is a matter of vital importance. The committee on "ways and means " in our " house " is the most laborious of all, and the six years a little woman has held the chairmanship of it has made her exceedingly cautious and conservative. Some very interest- ing debates occur before this committee, and no demur on the part of the defeated party, as I have 22 ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. often found, can change the unalterable decision. What is true in the case of the writer is largely true in respect to the majority of the profession to which he belongs. Yet it is in the ministry that you find the very men who would be the most benefited by this trip. Whether they should go as sportsmen or tourists, or in both capacities, a visit to the North Woods could not fail of giving them precisely such a change as is most desirable, and needed by them. In the wilderness they would find that perfect relaxation which all jaded minds require. In its vast solitude is a total absence of sights and sounds and duties, which keep the clergyman's brain and heart strung up, the long year through, to an intense, unnatural, and often fatal tension. There, from a thousand sources of invigoration, flow into the exhausted mind and enfeebled body cuiTents of strength and life. There sleep woos you as the shadows deepen along the lake, and retains you in its gentle em- brace until frightened away by the guide's merry call to breakfast. You would be astonished to learn, if I felt disposed to tell you, how many con- secutive hours a certain minister sleeps during the first week of his annual visit to the woods ! Ah me, the nights I have passed in the woods ! How they haunt me with their sweet, suggestive memories of silence and repose ! How harshly the steel-sliod hoofs smite against the flinty pavement WHAT IT COSTS. 23 beneath my window, and clash with rude inter- ruptions upon my ear as I sit recalling the tran- quil hours I have spent beneath the trees ! AVliat restful slumber was mine ; and not less gently than the close of day itself did it fall upon me, as I stretched myself upon my bed of balsam- boughs, with Rover at my side, not twenty feet from the shore where the ripples were playing coyly with the sand, and lulled by the low mono- tone* of the pines, whose branches were my only shelter from the dew which gathered like gems upon their spear-like stems, sank, as a falling star fades from sight, into forgetfulness. And then the waking ! The air fresh with the aroma of tlie wilderness. The morning blowing its perfumed breezes into your face. The drip, drip of the odorous gum in the branches overhead, and the colors of russet, of orange, and of gold streaking the eastern sky. After three or four nights of such slumber, the sleeper realizes the force and beauty of the great poet's apostrophe, — " Sleep, tliat knits up the ravelled sleave of care, The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course. Chief nourisher in life's feast." If every church would make up a purse, and pack its worn and weary pastor off to the North Woods for a four weeks' jaunt, in the hot months of July and August, it would do a 24 ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. very sensible as well as pleasant act. For when the good dominie came back swarth and tough as an Indian, elasticity in his step, fire in his eye, depth and clearness in his reinvigorated voice, would n't there be some preaching ! And what texts he would have from which to talk to the little folks in the Sabbath school ! How their bright eyes would open and enlarge as he narrated his adventures, and told them how the good Father feeds the fish that swim, and clothes the mink and beaver with their warm and sheeny fur. The preacher sees God in the original there, and often translates him better from his unwritten works than from his written vi^ord. He will get more instructive spiritual material from such a trip than from all the "Sabbath-school festi- vals " and " pastoral tea-parties " w^ith which the poor, smiling creature was ever tormented. It is astonishing how much a loving, spiritually-minded people can bore their minister. If I had a spite against any clerical lirother, and felt wicked enough to indulge it, I would get his Sabbath- school superintendent, a female city missionary, and several " local visitors," with an agent of some Western coUege thrown in for variety, and set them all on to him ! " But how much does it cost to take such a trip ? " I hear some good deacon inquire ; " perhap.* we may feel disposed to take your advice." WHAT IT COSTS. 25 Well, I will tell you ; and I shall make a liberal estimate, for I do not think it hurts a minister to travel in comfortable style any more than it does ]Mr. Farewell and Brother Have- enough. And if he shall chance to find a ten- dollar greenback in his ^'est-pocket after he has reached home it will not come amiss, I warrant you. I estimate the cost thus : — Gflide-hire, $2.50 per day; board for self and guide while in the woods, $ 2.00 each per week ; miscellanies (here is where the ten-dollar green- backs come in), $ 25.00. If he feels disposed to take a companion, he can do so (many go in couples), and thereby divide the cost of guide-hire, making it only $ 1.25 per day. But I would not advise one to do this, especially if his expenses are paid. Fifty dollars will pay one's travelling expenses both ways, from Boston to the Lower Saranac Lake, where you can meet your guide. From New York the expense is about the same. It is safe to say that one hundred and twenty-five dollars will pay all the expenses of a trip of a month's duration in the wilderness. I know of no other excursion in which such a small sum of money wall return such per cent in health, pleasure, and profit. 26 ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. OUTFIT. There is no one rule by which to he governed in this respect. Personal tastes and means con- trol one in this matter. Generally speaking, outfits are too elaborate and cumbersome. Some men go into the woods as if they were to pass the winter within the polar circle, supplied wdth fur caps, half a dozen pair of gloves, heavy overcoat, three or four thick blankets, and any amount of use- less impedimenta. Dry-goods clerks and students seem to affect this style the most. I remember run- ning against a pair of huge alligator-leather boots, leaning against a tree, one day when crossing the " Carry " from Forked Lake around the rapids, and upon examination discovered a young under- graduate of a college not a thousand miles from Boston inside of them. It was about the middle of August, and the thermometer stood at 90° Fahrenheit. Some half a mile farther on we met the guide sweating and swearing under a pack of blankets, rubber suits, and the like, heavy enough to frighten a tramping Jew-pedler ; and he declared that " that confounded Boston fool had brought in a hoat-load of clothes" which we found to be nigh to the truth when we reached the end of the " carry," where the canoe was. Now I wish that every reader Avho may visit the Adirondacks, male or female, would remember that a good- OUTFIT. 27 sized valise or carpet-bag will hold all the clothes any one person needs for a two months' trip in the wilderness, beyond what he wears in. Be sure to wear and take in nothing but woollen and flannel. The air at night is often quite cool, even in midsummer, and one must dress warmly. The following list comprises the " essentials " : — Complete undersuit of woollen or flannel, with a " change." Stout pantaloons, vest, and coat. Felt hat. Two pairs of stockings. Pair of common winter boots and camp shoes. Eubber blanket or coat. One pair pliable buckskin gloves, with chamois- ?kin gauntlets tied or buttoned at the elbow. Hunting-knife, belt, and a pint tin cup. To these are to be added a pair of warm woollen blankets, uncut, and a few articles of luxury, such as towel, soap, etc. The above is a good service' able outfit, and, with the exception of the blan- kets, can readily be packed in a carpet-bag, which is easily stowed in the boat and carried over the " portages." In this connection, it should be re- membered that the Adirondack boats, while being models of lightness and speed, are small, and will not bear overloading. On the average they are some fifteen feet long, three feet wide at the mid- dle, sharp at both ends, some ten inches deep. 28 ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. and weigli from sixty to ninety pounds. Small and light as these boats are, they will sustain three men and all they really need in the way of baggage, but it is essential, as the reader can see, that no unuecessaiy freight be taken along by a party. Nothing is better calculated to make a guide cross and sour than an over-supply of per- sonal baggage, and I advise all who attempt the trip to confine themselves very nearly to the above list. They will find that it is abundant. For sporting outfit, this will suffice : — One rifle and necessary ammunition. One light, single-handed fly-rod, with " flies." For rifles I prefer the " Ballard " or " Maynard " Among breech-loaders. No shot-guns should be taken. They are a nuisance and a pest. In respect to " flies," do not overload your book. Tliis is a good assortment : — Hackles, black, red, and brown, six each. Avoid small hooks and imported " French flies." Let the " flies " be made on hooks from Nos. 3 to 1, Limerick size. All " fancy flies " discard. They are good for nothing generally, unless it be to show to your lady friends. In addition to the " Hackles," Canada fly (6), — an excellent fly. Green drake (6). Red ibis (6). Small salmon flies (6), — best of all. OUTFIT. 29 If ill the fall of the year, take English blue-jay (6). Gray drake (6), — good. Last, but not least, a large, stoutly woven land- ing-net. This is enough. I know that what I say touch^ iiig the salmon flies will astonish some, but I do not hesitate to assert that with two dozen small-' sized salmcn flies I should feel myself well pro- vided for a six weeks' sojourn in the wilderness Of course you can add to the above list many serviceable flies ; my own book is stocked with a dozen dozens of all sizes and colors, but the above is a good practical outfit, and all one really needs. If you are unaccustomed to "fly fishing," and prefer to " grub it " with ground bait (and good sport can be had witli l)ait fishing too), get two or three dozens short-shanked, good-sized hooks, hand tied to strong cream-coYoxedi snells, and you are well provided. If you can find worms, they make the best bait ; if not, cut out a strip from a chub, and, loading your line with shot, yank it along- through the water some foot or more under the sur- face, as Avhen fishing for pickerel. I have had trout many times rise and take such a bait, even when sldttcrcd along on the top of the water. To every fly-fisher my advice is, be sure and take plenty of casting-lines. Have some six, others nine feet lonif There are lines made out of " sea snell." 30 ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. These are the best. Never select a bright, glisten- ing gut. Always search for the creamy looking ones. Tlie entire outfit need not cost (rod ex- cepted) over ten dollars, and for all practical purposes is as good as one costing a hundred. WHERE TO BUY TACKLE. In N e w York, go to Conroy, Bissett, & Malleson , Fulton Street. This house is noted for its rods No better single-handed fly-rod can be had than you can obtain at Conroy's. A rod of three pieces, twelve feet long, and weighing from nine to twelve ounces, is my favorite. A fashion has sprung up to fasten the reel on close to the butt, rfo that when casting you must needs grip the rod above the reel. This is a great error in construc- tion. Never buy one thus made. The reel should be c'ood eiQ-ht inches from the butt, and thus leave plenty of hand-room below it. At Con- roy's you can obtain such a rod, brass mounted, for some fifteen dollars ; in German-silver mount- ings, for seventeen. At other houses, for the very same or an inferior article I have been charged from twenty to twenty -five dollars. The first rod I ever bought at Conroy's, some six years ago, was a brass-mounted one, such as described above, which I used constantly for four years, but which I saw, on an e\'ii day, go into four pieces, in a WHERE TO BUY TACKLE. 31 narrow creek, w^hen I gave the butt to two large fish in full bolt for a snarl of tamarack-roots. Many a time have I seen that rod doubled up until the quivering tip lay over the reel. I paid fourteen dollars and fifty cents for it. I would like to pay three times that sum for another like it. If you want a rod that you can rely on, go to Conroy's in Fulton Street and buy one of his single-handed fly-rods. If*in Boston, William Eead and Son's, No. 13 Faneuil Hall Square, is a good house to deal with. Being less acquainted in Boston than in New York, I cannot speak with such directness as I can con- cerning Conroy's. But having looked over INIr. Eead's stock, I am quite persuaded that you can be as well served Avith rods by him as by any house in the country, Conroy always excepted. If I was buying in Boston, for my rod I should go to Read's. In respect to price, I am inclined to think tliat he sells the same class of rods cheaper than the ISTew York house. I saw some rods at Mr. Eead's the other day for twelve dollars, equal in all respects, so far as I could see, (and I tested them thoroughly,) to the rods for which Conroy charges fifteen dollars. At the same time I examined some split bamboo rods, price twenty-five dollars, for which many dealers in fishing-tackle, in New York, and perhaps some in Boston, would be likely *o demand nearly twice that sum. Of course this 32 ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. firm is too well known to the sporting world foi me to mention that, for a thorough hnnting outfit, you can do no better than to go to this house. For flies I advise you to go to Bradford and Anthony, 178 Washington Street. I am inclined to think that this house, in quantity, style, variety, and finish, excel even Conroy. I have looked their assortment oxev carefully, and know not where to find its equal. Wherever you buy, never purchase an imported fly. The French flies, especially, are most unreliable. Never put one in your book. Select only such as are tied to softj cream-colored snells. The same holds good in respect to casting-lines or leaders. Beware of sncli ^s have a bright, glassy glitter about them. They will fail you on your best fish, and you will lose liies, fish, and temper together. For your lines I suggest, first, last, and always, braided silk. Be- ware of hair and silk lines. Formerly I had a great passion for fancy lines, but years of ex- perience have caused me to settle down in favor of the braided silk line as superior to every other. GUIDES. This is the most important of all considerations to one about to visit the wilderness. An ignorant, lazy, low-bred guide is a nuisance in camp and useless everywhere else. A skilful, active, well- GUIDES. 33 mannered guide, on the other hand, is «, joy and consolation, a source of constant pleasure to the whole party. With an ignorant guide you will starve ; with a lazy one you will lose your temper; M'ith a low-bred fellow you can have no comfort. Fortunate in the selection of your guide, you will be fortunate in everything you undertake clean through the trip. A good guide, like a good wife, is indispensable to one's success, pleasure, and peace. * If I were to classify such guides as are nuisances, I should place at the head of the list the " witty guide." He is forever talking. He inundates the camp with gab. If you chance to have company, he is continually thrusting himself impertinently forward. He is possessed from head to foot with the idea that he is smart. He can never open his mouth unless it is to air his opin- ions or perpetrate some stale joke. He is always vulgar, not seldom profane. Avoid him as you would the plague. Next in order comes the " talkative guide." The old Indian maxim, " Much talk, no hunt," I have found literally verified. A true hunter talks little. The habit of his skill is silence. In camp or atloat he is low-voiced and reticent. I have met but one exception to this rule. I wiU not name him, lest it give pain. He is a good hunter and a capital guide, in spite of his evil tendency to gab. This tendency is vicious in many ways. 3* c 34 ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. It is closely allied with that other vice, — bragging. Such a guide in a large party is apt to breed dispute and difference. He is very liable to give the gentleman who employs him the impression that others in the party are striving to " get ahead of him." Moreover, he is always interrupting you when you do not want to be interrupted. Silence, which is a luxury found only in the wilderness, flees a*' his approach. Beware of the talkative guide. The next in order, and the last I shall men- tion, is the "lazy guide." Such a guide is the most vexatious creature you can have around. Nothing short of actual experience with one can give you an adequate impression. Now, a guide's duties, while not absolutely laborious, are neverthe- less multiform. To discharge them well, a man should have a brisk, cheerful temperament and a certain pride in his calling. He should be quick, inventive, and energetic. With these qualities even ordinarily developed, a man makes a good guide ; without them he is intolerable. A lazy guide is usually in appearance fleshy, lymphatic, dirty, and often well advanced in years. As a rule, avoid an old guide as you would an old horse. His few years' extra experience, compared to a younger man, cannot make good the decline of his powers and the loss of his ambition. A young, acti^'e fellow of thirty, with his reputation to make, GUIDES. 35 is wortK two who are fifty and egotistical. The worst sight I ever saw in the woods, the exhibi- tion which stirred me most, was the spectacle of a fat, lazy lout of a guide lying on his stomach, read- ing a dime novel, Mdiile tlie gentleman Avho hired him was building " smudges." If he had been my guide, I would have smudged him ! The " wit- ty," " talkative," and " lazy guide " are the three hindrances to a party's happiness. If you find yourself or party burdened with either species, admonish Icindly but firmly ; and if this mild appli- cation will not suffice, turn him mercilessly adrift, and post him hy name on your way out, at every camp and hotel, as an imposition and a pest. Make an example of one or two, and the rest would take the liint. Every respectable and wortliy guide will tliank you for it, and your conscience will have peace as over a duty fulfilled. For the most part the " independent guides " are models of skill, energy, and faithfulness. I say "independent," to distinguisli the class so called from another class yclept " liotel guides." The difference between the two classes is this : the " hotel guides " are paid so much per month by the hotel-keepers, and by them furnished to their boarders and such as come unprovided. Tliis system is faulty in many respects. The " hotel guide " is not responsible to the party for its suc- cess, and therefore is not quickened to make his 36 ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. best endeavor. He has no reputation to make, af? has the independent guide, for his service is se- cured to him for the season, by virtue of his con- nection witli the hotel. Furthermore, the " hotel guide " is often unemployed for weeks if the sea- son is dull ; and, lianging around a frontier hotel in daily proximity to the bar, is very liable to be- get that greatest of all ^•ices in a guide, — drunken- ness. If, on the other hand, the season is a crowded one, the proprietor finds it difficult to secure guides enough for his guests, and so must needs content himself with men totally unfit for the service. Thus it often happens that a party taking their guides at the hands of the landlord finds, when too late, that out of half a dozen guides, only one is capable, M-hile the others are mere make-shifts, the good guide being sent along as a teacher and " boss " of the raw hands. I do not say that there are no good guides among those known as hotel guides, for there are ; but as a elass they are far inferior in character, skill, and habits to the others. The independent guides, so called, are, as a whole, a capalile and noble class of men. They know their calling thoroughly, and can be relied on. They have no other indorsement than such as the parties to which they act as guides give them ; and as their chances of subsequent service depend upon their present success, they are stimulated to GUIDES. 37 the litmost to excel. Between these and the hotel guides there exists a rivalry, and I might employ a stronger term. The independent guide feels, and is not slow to assert, his superiority. He is justified in doing it. The system of hotel guiding is wrong in theory and pernicious in practice. Every guide should be immediately responsible to the party hiring him. His chances of future em- ployment should depend upon his present success. This is the only natural, simple, and equitable method. It is beneficial to both j)ai'ties. The sportsman is well served ; and the guide, if he is faithful, secures constant employment from season to season. Many of the best guides are engaged a year in advance. I cannot let this opportunity pass unimproved of testifying to the capacity, skill, and faithfulness of a great majority of the guides through the Adirondack region. With many I am personally acquainted, and rejoice to number them among my friends. I have seen them under every circum- stance of exposure and trial, of feasting and hun- ger, of health and sickness, and a more honest, cheerful, and patient class of men cannot be found the world over. Born and bred, as many of them were, in this wilderness, skilled in all the lore of woodcraft, handy with the rod, superb at the pad- dle, modest in demeanor and si^eech, honest to a proverb, they deserve and receive the admiration 38 ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. of all who make their acquaintance. Bronzed and liardy, fearless of danger, eager to please, un- contaminated with the vicious habits of civilized life, they are not unworthy of the magnificent sur- roundings amid which they dwell. Among them an oath is never heard, unless in moments of intense excitement. Vulgarity of speech is abso- lutely unknown, and theft a matter of horror and surprise. Measured by our social and intellectual facilities, their lot is lowly and uninviting, and yet to them there is a charm and fascination in it. Under the base of these overhanging mountains they were born. Upon the waters of these se- cluded lakes they have sported from earliest boy- hood. The wilderness has unfolded to them its mysteries, and made them wise with a wisdom no- where written in books. This wilderness is their home. Here they were born, here have they lived, and here it is that they expect to die. Their graves will be made under the pines where in childhood they played, and the sounds of wind and wave which lulled them to sleep when boys will swell the seKsame cadences in requiem over their graves. When they have passed away, tradi- tion w^ill prolong their virtues and their fame. I am often in reception of letters from gentle- men who wish to visit the wilderness, inquiring the names of guides to whom they can write for the purpose of engaging their services. I have GUIDES. 39 beeu prompted to publish tlie following list in answer to such correspondence. I do not wish any to understand that the list is perfect, contain- ing the names of all the good guides, for it does not. It contains the names of such as, through personal acquaintance or reliable information, I know to be worthy of patronage. Others, not mentioned here, there may be equally reliable. I make no invidious comparison in this selection. I seek only to give such as may be about to visit the region tlie names of certain guides to whom they can ^vrite with confidence, and whom, if they secure, they may deem themselves fortunate. Long Lake Guidc^i, or those loliose Post-0 fflce Address is LojKj Lake, Hamilton County, N. Y. John E. Plumbley, John Eobinson, Jerry Plumbley, Amos Eobinson, Amos Hough, Michael Sabatis and Sons, Henry »Stanton, Alonzo AVood, Isaac Eobinson, Eeuben Gary. Lovjcr Saranac Guides. Stephen Martin, Duglass Dunning, James McClellan, George Eing, Lute Evans, Daniel L. ]Moody, Harvey Moody, Mark Clough, John King, Eeuben Eeynolds, 40 adventurp:s in the wilderness. George Sweeny, Alonzo Dudley, William Eing, Daniel Moody. Post-office address, Lower Saranac, FrcmJdin County, N. Y. St. Regis Guides. I can recall the names of only three. Setli Warner, Stephen Turner, DaAdd Sweeny. Post-office address, St. Regis, FmnJdin County, N. Y. Concerning the guides in the " Brown Tract," and on the western side of the wilderness, around the Potsdam region, I know nothing. The Ar- nolds, I understand, of the Brown Tract district, owiniif to an unfortunate occurrence last fall, have all deserted that section of the country. Tlie house their father kept is now unoccupied, and whether it will be oj^ened this spring I know not. HOW TO GET TO THE WILDERNESS. There are several routes which you can take in an excursion to the North Woods, but only one or two which are easy and practicable for a party composed both of ladies and gentlemen. If you wish to enter at the southern end of the wilder- HOW TO GET THERE. 41 uess, and do your sporting in the Brown Tract region, go to Albany and thence to Booneville, from which place you can get transported on horseljack to the first of the chain of lakes known as the " Eight Lakes." Here was formerly a hotel, known as " Arnold's." The Arnold family have now left, and I know^ not if the house is kept open. This entrance is not easy for ladies, nor is the region into which it brings you at all noted for the beauty of its* scenery. Still many sportsmen go in this way, and to such a class it is a feasible route. You can also "go in" via Lake George and ]\Iinerva to Long Lake, if you choose. The distance is some eighty miles by this route, the roads bad, and the hotel accommodations poor. Long Lake is a good starting-point for a party, as it is situated midway of the forest, the centre of magnificent scenery, and the home of many guides. All it needs to make this route one of the very best is, that the roads should be improved, and a good line of coaches established. But as it now is, it is neither practicable nor entirely safe. The best route by which to enter the wilderness is the following. It is easy and quick. The ac- commodations are excellent all the way through. I do not know how I can give a true impression of this route so briefly as by going, in imagination, with the reader, from Boston to the Lower Saranac, where I meet my guide. I leave Boston Monday 42 ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. morning, we will say, at eight o'clock, on the Bos- ton and Albany Eailroad. At East Albany we con- nect with the Troy train ; at Troy, with the Sara- toga train, which lands you at the steamboat dock at Whitehall, Lake Champlain, at nine o'clock, p. M. Going on board you sit down to a dinner, abundant in quantity and well served ; after which you retire to your state-room, or, if so inclined, roll an arm-chair to the hurricane deck, and enjoy that rarest of treats, a steamboat excursion on an inland lake by moonlight. At 4.30 a. m. you are oppo- site Burlington, Vt., and by the time you are dressed the boat glides alongside of the dock at Port Kent, on the New York side of the lake. You enter a coach which stands in waiting, and, after a ride of six miles in the cool morning air, you alight at the Ausable House, Keeseville. Here you array yourself for the woods, and, eating a hearty breakfast, yovi seat yourself in the coach at 7 A. M., the whip cracks, the horses spring, and you are off' on a fifty-six mile ride over a plank road, which brings you, at 5 P. M., to ]\Iartin's, on the Lower Saranac, where your guide, with his narrow shell drawn up upon the beach, stands waiting you. This is the shortest, easiest, and, beyond all odds, the best route to the Adirondacks. You leave Boston or New York Monday at 8 A. IM., and reach your guide Tuesday at 5 p. m. So perfect are the connections on this route, that, ha^ing engaged HOW TO GET THERE. 43 "John " to meet me a year from a certain day, at 5 p. M., on the Lower Saranac, I have rolled up to "Martin's" and jumped from the coach as the faithful fellow, equally " on time," was in the act of pulling his narrow boat up the beach. It is not only easy and quick, but the cheapest route also, and takes you through some of the sublimest scenery in the world. At Keeseville, if you wish, you can turn off to the left toward North Elba, and visit that historic grave in which the martyr of the nineteenth century sleeps, with a boulder of native granite for his tombstone, and the cloud- covered peaks of Whiteface and Marcy to the north and south, towering five thousand feet above his head. By all means stop here a day. It will better you to stand a few moments over John Brown's grave, to enter the house he built, to see the fields he and his heroic boys cleared, the fences they erected and others standing incomplete as they left them when they started for Harper's Ferry. What memories, if you are an American, will throng into your head as you stand beside that mound and traverse those fields ! You will continue your journey a better man or purer woman from even so brief a visit to the grave of one whose name is and will ever be a synonyme of liberty and justice throughout the world. If you are mere tourists, and intend going no farther west- ward than North Elba, stop at Westport, above 44 ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. Crown Point, and take stage to your destination. At a Mr. Helmer's (I think that is tlie name) you will find all necessary accommodation. If you are going into the wilderness, it is better to engage your transportation from Keeseville in advance, in order to prevent delay. To this end you can ad- dress the proprietor of the Ausable House, Keese- ville, or W. r. Martin, keeper of " Martin's," as it is familiarly known to sportsmen at the Lower Sara- nac. This is the direct route also to reach Pau! Smith's, at the St. Eegis Lake. Another route, — a new one just opened, which I have never tried, — is via Plattsburgh, by which you can go by rail t^- a point within thirty miles of " Martin's." Addres«. W. P. Martin for particulars. HOTELS. This subject I shall dismiss with a brief allusion. Paul Smith, or " Pol," as he is more commonly known among the guides, is proprietor of the St. Pegis House. This is the St. James of the wilder- ness. Here Saratoga trunks and Saratoga belles are known. Here they have civilized " hops," and that modern jirolongation of the ancient w^ar- whoop modified and improved, called " operatic singing," in the parlors. In spite of all this, it is a capital house, with a good reputation, well deserved HOTELS. 45 " Bartlett's " is situated on the carry between Round Lake and the Upper Saranac. This house is well kept. The rooms are neatly furnished, the service at the tables slightly suggestive of " style." The proprietor is a brisk, business-like-looking man, pleasant and accommodating. I have never seen or heard aught to his discredit, and much in his praise. Many gentlemen leave their wives and children here while they are in the wilderness sporting. This house is conveniently located, and within easy reach of excellent liunting-ground. I lieartily reconmiend it to pviblic patronage. "Mother Johnson's." — This is a " half-way house." It is at the lower end of the carry, below Long Lake. Never pass it without dropping in. Here it is that you find such pancakes as are rarely met with. Here, in a log-house, hospitality can be found such as might shame many a city mansion. Never shall I forget the meal that John and I ate one night at that pine table. We broke camp at 8 A. M., and reached Mother Johnson's at 11.45 P. M., having eaten nothing but a hasty lunch on the way. Stumbling up to the door amid a chorus of noises, such as only a kennel of hounds can send forth, we aroused the venerable couple, and at 1 A. M. sat dow^n to a meal whose quantity and qual- ity are worthy of tradition. Now, most house- keepers would have grumbled at being summoned to entertain travellers at such an unseasonable 46 ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. hour. Not so with Mother Johnson. Bless har soul, how her fat, good-natured face glowed with delight as she saw us empty those dishes ! How her countenance shone and sides shook with lauoh- ter as she passed the smoking, russet-colored cakea from her griddle to our only half-emptied plates. For some time it was a close race, and victory trembled in the balance ; but at last John and I surrendered, and, dropping our knives and forks, and shoving back our chairs, we cried, in the language of another on the eve of a direr conflict, " Hold, enough ! " and the good old lady, still happy and radiant, laid down her ladle and retired from her benevolent labor to her slumbers. Never go by Mother Johnson's without tasting her pancakes, and, when you leave, leave with her an extra dollar. " Uncle Fahners" is at Long Lake, and com- mands a view of lake and mountain scenery rarely surpassed. There are many houses open to guests in the wilderness more ostentatious ; but for downright solid comfort commend me to " Uncle Palmer's." The table i^ well supplied ; the cuisine is excellent ; the beds neat and clean ; the location central. Mr. Palmer is one of the most honest, genial, and accommodating men whom I have ever met. His wife is active, pleasant, and moth- erly. Both are full of the spirit of true kindness, and sympathetic in all their words and acts. You may be a total stranger, but no sooner are you HOTELS. 47 fairly inside the house than you feel yourself per- fectly at liomc. In this' neighborhood live John Plumbley, and his brother Jerry, Amos Hough, Henry Stanton, Isaac Eobinson and boys, Michael Sabatis and sons, and many others of the very best guides in the wilderness. Sabatis keeps a hotel on the shore of the lake, and at his house many sportsmen resort. I have heard it well spoken of, but cannot speak from experience, as I never had the pleasure of stopping over there. On the whole, I do not hesitate to say that Long Lake is, in my opinion, the best rendezvous of the wilderness, and Uncle Palmer's long table the very best spot to find yourself when hungry and tired. " Martin' s!' — This is the last house of which I shall speak. It is located on Lower Saranac, at the terminus of the stage route from Keeseville. It is, therefore, the most convenient point at which to meet your guides. Its appointments are thorough and complete. Martin is one of the few men in the world who seem to know how "to keep a hotel." At his house you can easily and cheaply obtain your entire outfit for a trip of any length. Here it is that the celebrated Long Lake guides with their unrivalled boats, principally resort. Here, too, many of the Saranac guides, some of them surpassed by none, make their head-quarters. Mr. ]\Iartin, as a host, is good-natured and gen- 48 ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. tlemanly. His table is abundantly provided, not only with the necessaries, but also with many of the luxuries, of diet. Tlie charges are moderate, and the accommodations for families, as well as sporting parties, in every respect ample. " Martin's " is a favorite resort to all who have ever once visited it, and stands deservedly high in public estimation. WHEN TO VISIT THE WILDERNESS. The purpose for which you go, and the character of the sporting you desire, should decide this point. If you desire river fishing for spotted trout, and trolling for the lake trout, some of which grow to weigh from tw^enty to thirty pounds, yon should go in during the month of May or June. The objection to this time lies in the fact that the wilderness is wet and cold at this season of the year, when the snow is barely melted, the portages muddy and unpleasant, and the "black flies" in multitudinous numbers. These objections, to my mind, are msurmounta- ble. No ladies should go into the wilderness sooner than the middle of June. If you want to see autumnal scenery, unsurpassed by any the world over, and hear the " mvisic of the hounds " in full cry after that noblest of all game for dogs, WHEN TO VISIT THE WILDERNESS. 49 the antlered buck in swift career, go in during the month of September, and remain until snow and tlie cold drive you out. My favorite season is in midsummer. I go in early in July, and remain for about two months. Late in June or early in July the "black fly" disappears. The wilderness is dry, and the climate is delightful. The thermometer stands at about se^'enty-five or eighty degrees. The portages are in good condition, the water not liigh, the lily and marsh flowers in bloom. Tlie fishing is excellent. The trout have left the rapids and the upper por- tions of the streams, and gathered in great num- bers at the " spring-holes," the location of which your guide is supposed to know, if not, he can easily, if he understands his business, ascertain. No better fishing can be found than spring-hole fishing, which you will find carefully described in the chapter entitled " The Nameless Creek." As for hunting, the sport is excellent during these two months. July is the best month for Jack or night shooting, — the most exciting of all shooting. The bucks by this time are in good condition, and not over-shy. These are the only months when you have shore-shooting, as it is called ; that is, when you see deer feeding in broad daylight, and take them from the open Ijoat at a good, easy range, — say from twenty to thirty rods. This is what I call good, honest sport, and not slaughter, as when !^ D 50 ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. the docf drives a deer into the lake, and, rowing up beside the poor frightened and struggling thing, the guide holds him by the tail while you blow his brains out ! Bah ! I should be ashamed to ever look along the sights of a rifle again if I had ever disgraced myself with any such " sporting " (!) as that ! At this time of the year rain-storms are unknown in this region, and the thunder-showers which occur are a source of pleasure, and not of inconvenience, to a camp. No more sublime sight can the eye behold than is presented to it when such a shower passes over these mountains. HEALTHFULNESS OF CAMP LIFE. I am often asked if ladies would not " catch cold " in the woods, and if the physical exertion which one must put forth is not such as to forbid that any but robust people should undertake the trip. To this I reply that I believe it to be a physical imj^ossibility for one, however fragile or delicate, to " catch cold " in this wilderness. Remember that you are here in a mountainous region, where dampness and miasma, such as prevail in lower sections, are entirely unknown. Consider, too, how genial and equable is the climate in the summer months, and how pure and rarefied the atmosphere. Eemember, also, that you breathe an HEALTHFULNESS OF CAMP LIFE. 51 air odorous with the smell of piue and cedar and balsam, and absolutely free from the least taint of impurity ; and when you take all this into account, you will see how very dissimilar are the conditions and surroundmgs of life in the woods to life in the city or village. Acquainted as I am with, many ladies, some of them accustomed to every luxury, and of delicate health, who have " camped out " in this wilderness, I have yet to meet with a single one who ever " caught cold," or experienced any other inconvenience to the bodily health in the woods. As to the " physical exertion," there is no such exertion known here. It is the laziest of all imaginable places, if you incline to indolence. Tramping is unknow^n in this region. Wlierever you wish to go your guide paddles you. Your hunting, fishing, sight-seeing, are all done from the boat. Going in or coming out you cross the neces- sary carries, which, for the most part, are short and good walking, and you can take your own time foi: it. In this I refer, of course, to the most frequent- ed parts of the wilderness, and not to the portions seldom visited and more difficult of access. Thero are sections which I have visited by dragging my cedar shell behind me up narrow creeks and through tamarack swamps, middle deep in mud and water ; but no guide w^ould think of taking a party, unless urged by the party itself, into any such region ; and, 52 ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. ordinarily speaking, there is no need of exertion whicli a child of five summers could not safely put forth, from one end to the other of a trip. WHAT SECTIONS TO VISIT. If you go in by way of the Saranacs, do not camp down in that section as some do, but pass over Indian Carry, through the Spectacle Lakes and Eamshorn Creek (called by some Stony Creek), into the Eacquette Eiver. Then turn up or down as you please. If you desire to see some of tlie finest scenery imaginable, pass up the Eacquette to Long Lake, and, when some two miles up the lake, turn your face toward the north, and you Avill be- hold what is worth the entire journey to see. Then go on, and do not camp until you do so on the southern or w^estern shore of Eacquette Lake. Here you wiU find good sporting and scenery unsur- passed. Build here your central camp, and, as soon as you are established, take your boat and go over to the " Wood's Place," and from the knoll on which the house stands you will gaze upon one of the finest water views in the world. Then visit Terrace Lodge, on an island to the front and left of you, and, climbing up the ledge, you will either find the wTiter there to welcome you, or see where he and one better than he have passed many delight- WHAT SECTIOxNS TO VISTf. 53 ful hours. Only beware how you appropriate it, for we have a sort of life-lease on that camp- ground, and may appear to claim possession when you least expect us. Then paddle to Beaver Bay, and find that point in it from which you can arouse a whole family of sleeping echoes along the western ridge and the heavy woods opposite. Then go to Constable Point, and quench your thirst at the coolest, sweetest spring of pure water from which you ever drank. Go next to the southern part of the lake, so hidden behind the islands tliat you wovdd never suspect such a lovely sheet of water lay beyond, with its two beautiful reaches of softly shining sand, one white as silver, the other yellow as gold ; and in the waters which lave the golden, find the best bathing in the whole wilder- ness. Do not leave this region until you have made an excursion to that Lake George in minia- ture. Blue Mountain Lake, and fill your mind with an im^^ression which will remain in memo- ry as one of the sweet and never-to-be-forgotten recollections of life. When you have retraced your progress up, and reached the moutli of Eams- liorn Creek, kce[) on down the Bacquette until you have swung round to Big Tupper Lake and lunched on the sloping ledge over which the outlet of Bound Lake and Little Tupper pours its full tide in thunder and foam ; and, if it be not too late in the season, and you know how to use the rod, you will 54 ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. raise, amid the froth and eddies of the falls, some of the largest, gamiest, brightest-tinted trout tliat ever gladdened a sportsman's eye. Then, if you are robust and full of pluck, force your way over the four-mile carry, between the Falls and Eound Lake, and, hurrying on through its sluggish waters, do not pause until you enter the narrow, secluded stretch of Little Tupper. But the moment you enter stop, joint your rod, and noose on your strongest leader and largest flies, for you will find right there, at the entrance of Bog Creek, trout that will put your skill and tackle to the severest test. When I passed through that region last, I left, as John expressed it, "more than five boat-load of fish " in that deep, sluggish pool. Honest John Plumbley, the prince of guides, patient as a hound, and as faithful, — a man who knows the wilderness as a farmer knows his fields, whose in- stinct is never at lault, whose temper is never ruf- fled, wdiose paddle is silent as falling snow, whose eye is true along the sights, whose pancakes are the wonder of the woods, — honest, patient, and modest John Plumbley, may he live long beyond the limit so few of us attain, and depart at last full of peace as he will full of honors, God bless him ! As you pass out, visit the St. Eegis waters, by the way of Big Wolf, and Eollin's Pond, and Long Pine, and so circle dowii to " mine host " at Mar- tin's. What a trip you will have had, what won- BLACK FLIES. 55 ders seen, what rare experiences enjoyed ! How many evenings will pass on " golden wings " at home, as friends draw close their circle around the glowing grate, and listen as you rehearse the story of your adventures, — shoot over again your " first buck," and land for the hundredth time your " big- sest " trout I BLACK FLIES. I will speak of these and other nuisances before I close, in order to state the exact truth in refer- ence to a subject concerning which newspaper and magazine ^\Titers have given the public an erro- neous impression. The spirit of exaggeration, and the necessity of " getting up a good article," have contributed to the dissemination of " anecdotes " and " experiences " which are the merest balderdash imaginable. I am prompted, therefore, to make, as we were accustomed to say in college, a " plain statement of facts," that my readers may know precisely how much inconvenience a tourist or sportsman is subject to, from this source, among the Adirondacks. The black fly, concerning which so much of the horrible has been written, is a small, dark-colored fly, about the size of a red ant. Its bite is not severe, nor is it ordinarily poisonous. There may be an occasional exception to this rule ; no ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. but beside the bite of tlie mosquito it is compara- tively mild and liarmless. This fly prevails during the month of June and disappears early in July. It also invariably retires at the setting of the sun, and gives you no more trouble until late in the morning. I regard it as one of the most harm- less and least vexatious of the insect family. For five years my wife and self have camped in the ■wilderness; we have traversed it near and far, sleeping where the night found us, liut we ha-\-e never been, to any extent wortli mentioning, disturbed by its presence. The black fly, as pic- tured by " our Adirondack correspondent," like the Gorgon of old, is a myth, — a monster existing only in men's feverish imaginations. MOSQUITOES. In some localities these are numerous, but with care in the selection of your camp you will not be very much troubled. A headland, or a point which projects into a lake, over which the wind sweeps, or, better still, an island, is excel- lent ground for a camp, where mosquitoes "\^'ill not embarrass you. Gnats can also be avoided by the same care; and, in my way of thinldng, they are much worse than the black fly or mosquito. MOSQUITOES. 57 Against all these insects you can find abundant protection. The following precautions, which we have adopted with complete success, I would recom- mend, especially to such of my lady readers as con- template a visit to this or any other inland region. For the hands, take a pair of common buckskin gloves and sew on at the wrists a gauntlet or armlet of chamois-skin, reaching to the elbow, and tigliihj huttoncd around. Do not leave any opening, however small, at the \\T.ist, else the gnats may creep up the arm. This gives per- fect protection to the hand. For the face, take a yard and a half of Swiss mull, and gather it with an elastic band into the form of a sack or bag. Have the elastic so as to slip over the head, which when you have done, fix the elastic inside the collar-band, and you can laugh defiance at the mos- quitoes and gnats. "We, in addition to this, take in a piece of verij fine muslin, some four yards square, which, if threatened with gnats or flies, having first thoroughly smoked the tent or lodge, we drop over the front or doorway, and behind its protection sleep undisturbed. To sportsmen, and indeed to all, I suggest this also. Take in a bottle of sweet oil and a vial of tar. These the guide will mix, and with a small bottle of the compound in your pock- et you can go and come night or day as you please. All manner of insects abhor the smell of tar. When, therefore, you have need to fish or hunt or 3* 58 ADVKNTUKKS IN THE WILDERNESS. journey where they may be expected, pour out a little into the palm of your hand and anoint your face with it. To most persons the scent of tar is not offensive, and tlie mixture washes off on the first application of soap and water, leaving no trace or taint. To reconcile my lady readers to it, I may add, that it renders the skin soft and smooth as an infant's. I have mentioned these various protections, not because we often resort to them, but simply from a desire to furnish my readers ample knowledge for every emergency. Last summer we were in the wilderness nearly two months, but suffered more in the first two weeks after our return, in a city in Connecticut, than during our entire stay in the woods. Care in the selection of your camp, and the employment of the above-mentioned meth- ods of protection, will obviate every difficulty and make you as free from inconvenience as you would be in the majority of New England villages. LADIES' OUTFIT. A lady at my elbow, recalling how valuable a few suggestions would have been to her five years ago in respect to what is most appropriate and serviceable for a lady to wear in the wilderness, inserts the following list : — LADIES' OUTFIT. 59 A net of fine Swiss mull, made as we have pre- viously described, as protection against mosqui- toes, gnats, etc. A pair of buckskin gloves, with armlets of cha- mois-skin or thick drilling, sewed on at the wrist of the glove and buttoned near the elbow so tightly as to prevent the entrance of flies. For the head, a soft felt hat, such as gentlemen wear, rather broad in the brim. This is light and cool for the head, and a good protection from sun and rain. A flannel change throughout. Thick balmoral boots, with rubbers. A pair of camp shoes, water-proof, warm and roomy. Short w^alking-dress, with Turkish draw^ers fas- tened with a band tightly at the ankle. Waterproof or rubber coat and cap. A pair of Lisle-thread or kid gloves. To this I add, as it occurs to me at this point, that no party should go into the wilderness unpro- vided with linen bandages, prepared lint, salve, and whatever else iS needed in case of acci- dent. You will not, probably, have occasion to use them, but if any casualty should occur they would be of the utmost service. 60 ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. WILD ANIMALS. I am often asked, especially by ladies, if it is not dangerous to take such a trip, and if wild ani- mals do not abound in the wilderness ; and I know that many are deterred from making the excursion because of their timidity. The only animals concerning which the most timid could be alarmed are the bear, wolf, and panther. The latter is a very ugly neighbor indeed, and the less you have to do with him the better. I am tolerably familiar with wood life, and the sights and sounds of such danger as one is liable to meet in the wilderness ; and John and I have slept more than once, calmly enougli, with our rifles inside our blankets, not knowing when we lay down what cry might awaken us ; but I should not purposely put myself in the way of a panther, unless I could run my eye along the sights of my double rifle when the l)arrels were freshly charged. In speaking of the panther, I do not, of course, al- lude to the Canadian wild-cat, with which the igno-' rant often confound the panther, but to the puma itself, an animal which often measures twelve fee^ from tip to tip, and is the slyest, strongest, bloodiest ranger of the woods. Now, fortunately, the pan- ther is almost wholly unknown in this region. A few still live among the loneliest defiles an4 darkest WILD ANIMALS. 61 gorges of the Adirondack Mountaius, but they never come down, unless in the depth of winter, to the shores of the lakes to the west, or the banks of the rivers. Many years have passed since one has been seen by any of the guides. The region traversed by parties is as free from them as the State of Massachusetts. Black bears abound in some localities, but more timid, harmless creatures do not exist, all the old stories to the contrary notwithstanding. In temper and action toward men they resemble veiy closely the woodchuck. Their first and only anx- iety is to esca^ie man's presence. If you penetrate far enough into the wilderness, you will occasional- ly, at night, hear them nosing around your camp, with liedgehogs and the like, but ever careful to keejD out of your sight. A stick, piece of bark, or tin plate shied in tlie direction of the noise, will scatter them like cats. The same is true of wolves. They are only too anxious to keep out of your sight and hearing. Touch a match to an old stump, and in two hours there will not be a wolf within ten miles of 3f ou. I wish all to take the statement as in every sense true, when I declare that there is absolutely no danger, nor indeed the least approach to danger, in camping in the wilderness. Many and many a night has my wife, when John and I were off on a hunt, slept soundly and without a thought of danger, in the depths of the forest, lifty miles 62 ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. from even a hunter's cabin. It is true that her education in woodcraft is more extensive than that of most ladies, and, for presence of mind, quickness and skill with the ritie, many so-called " crack shots " might well take lessons of her ; but were this not true, I regard a camp, granted only that it be so far in that men cannot reach it, as a place of absolute security. PROVISIONS. All you need to carry in with you is Coffee, Pepper, Tea, Butter (this optional), Sugar, Pork, and Condensed Milk. Always take crushed sugar ; powdered sugar is not easily picked up if the bag bursts and lets it out among the pine-stems. If you are a " high liver," and wish to take in canned fruits and jellies, of course you can do so. But these are luxuries which, if you are wise, you will leave behind you. BILL OF FARE. I am often asked, " What do you have to egit up there ? " In order to answer the very natural «[uestion, and show the reader that I do not starve, BILL OF FARE. 63 I will give my bill of fare as you can have it served, if you will call at my camp on the Eacci^uette next July. This is no " fancy sketch," but a bona fide list which I have " gone through " more than once, and hope to many times more. Vegetcibles. Potatoes, boiled, fried, or mashed. Meats. Venison, roast. Venison sausages. " steak, broiled. " hash. " fried. " spitted. Fish. l^ke TrOut (salmon). Trout (spotted). Boiled. Fried (in meal). Baked. Broiled. Broiled. Spitted. Chowder. Pancakes, with maple sirup (choice). Bread, warm and stale, both. Coffee. Tea. Now imagine that you have been out for eight hours, with a cool, appetizing mountain breeze blowing in your face, and then fancy yourself seated before your T)ark tal)le in the shadow of the pines, with the water rippling at your feet ; a lake 64 ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. dotted with islands, and walled in with mountains, before you, and such a bill of fare to select from, and then tell me if it looks like starvation ? If a man cannot make a pound of Hesh per day on that diet, I pity him ! And now, patient reader, having given j^ou all the information necessary to make you acquainted with the geography of the wilderness, the charac- ter of the sporting tlierein, the outfit needed for the excursion, tlie best routes of entrance, and certain suggestions as to hotels, guides, and con- trivances of protection from gnats and flies, I close this chapter with the wish that you may find, in excursions which you may make thereto, the health and happiness which have, upon its waters and under its softly murmuring pines, come to me, and more abundantly — as to one w^ho needed them more — to her who joins me in the hope of meet- ing you amid the lilies which fleck with snow its rivers, or in the merry circle, free from care, wdiich, on some future evening, we hope to gather around our camp-fire. 11. THE NAMELESS CREEK. \ T A^as five o'clock in the afternoon when, aftei J- three hours of constant struggle with the cur- rent, we burst our way througli a mass of alder- bushes and marsh-grass, and beliuld, tlie lake lay before us ! Wet from head to foot, panting from my recent exertion, having eaten nothing since seven in the morning, and weary from ten hours' steady toil, I felt neitlier weariness nor hunger as I gazed upon the scene. Shut in on all sides by mountains, mirrored from Ijase to summit in its placid bosom, bordered here with fresh green grass and there with reaches of golden sand, and again with patches of liHes, whose fragrance,mingled with the scent of balsam and pine, filled the air, the lake reposed unruffled and serene. I know of nothing wliich carries the mind so far back toward the creative period as to stand on the shore of such a sheet of water, knowing that as you behold it, so has it been for ages. The water \i hich laves your feet is the same as that which flowed when the springs wliich feed it were first uncapped. No rude axe has smitten- the forests 66 ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. which grow upon the mountains ; even the grass at your side is as the parent spire which He who ordereth all commands to bring forth seed after its kind. All around you is as it was in the begin- ning. I know not how long I should thus have stood musing, but for a motion of John's, which broke the chain of thought and brought my mind back to the practical realization that we were wet, hungry, and tired. In the middle of the lake was a large flat rock, rising some two feet above the surface of the water. Stepping noiselessly into our boat, we paddled to the rock, and, wringing our drip- ping garments, stretched ourselves at full length upon it to dry. 0, the pleasant sensation of warmth which that hard couch, to which the sun had given a genial heat, communicated to us ! Never was bed of eider-down so welcome to royal limbs as was that granite ledge to ours. AVhat luxury to lie and W'atcli the vapor roll up from your wet garments while the warm rock gave out its heat to your chilled body ! In an hour we were dry, at least comparatively so, and we held a council. Our commissariat Avas getting rather low. Our stores, spread upon the rock, amounted to the following : two pounds of pork, six pounds of flour, four meas- ures of coffee, one half-pound of tea. John esti- mated that this would last us three days, if I had ordinary success with the rod. " But what are we to do to-night? " I exclaimed ; " we have i THE NAMELESS CREEK. 67 neither trout nor venison, and I am hungry enough to eat those two pounds of pork alone, if I once get fairly at it, and there goes the sun back of the tree-tops now ? " " Well, unstrap your rod and select your flies," responded he, " and we will see what we can find. I don't mean to have you wrap yourself around that piece of pork to-night any way." I did as requested. For the tail fly I noosed on a brown hackle, above it I tied a killer, and for the dapper I hitched on a white moth. Taking the bow seat, John paddled straight for the west shore of the lake, and the light boat, cutting its way through the lily-pads, shot into a narrow aperture overhung with bushes and tangled grass, and I saw a sight I never shall forget. We liad entered the inlet of the lake, a stream some twenty feet in width, whose waters were dark and sluggish. The setting sun yet poured its radiance through the overhanging pines, flecldng the tide with crimson patches and crossing it here and there with goklen lanes. Up this stream, flecked with gold and bor- dered with lilies as far as the eye could reach, the air was literally full of jumping trout. From amid lily-pads, from under the overhanging grass, and in the bright radiance poured along the middle of the stream, the speckled beauties were launching themselves. Here a little fellow would cut his tiny furrow along the siirface after a fluttering gnat ; there a larger one, with quivering fin and 6S ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. open mouth, would fling liiniseK high into the air in a brave attempt to seize a passing moth ; and again, a two-pounder, like a miniature porpoise, would lazily rise to the , surface, roll up his golden side, and, flinging his broad tail upward, with a splash disappear. Casting loose my flies and un- coiling my leader, I made ready to cast ; but John, unmindful or regardless of the motion, kept the even sweep of his stroke. Eound tufted banks, under overhanging pines, and through tangled lily-}!ads we passed, and at every turn and up every stretch of water the same sight presented itseK. At length, sweeping sharply round a curve, John suddenly re- versed his paddle and checked the boat, so that the bow stood upon the very rim of a pool some forty feet across. Dark and gloomy it lay, with its sur- face as smooth as though no ripple had ever crossed it No one would have guessed that beneath the t/anquil surface lay life and sport. Adjusting myself firndy on my narrow seat, un- tangling the snells and gatliering up my leader, I flung the flies into mid-air and launched them out over the pool. The moment their feathery forms had specked the water, a single gleam of yellow light flashed up from the dark depth, and a trout, clorsing his moutli upon the brown hackle, darted downward. I struck and had him. A small trout he proved to be, of only some half-pound weight. After having passed him over to John to be disen- THE NAMELESS CREEK. G9 gaged, I again launched the flies out, which, paus- ing a moment in mid-air as the straightened line brought them up, began slowly to settle down, but ere they touched the water four gleams of light crossed the pool and four quivering forms, with wide-spread tails and open mouths, leaped high out of water. I struck, and, after a brief struggle, landed two. From that moment the pool was lit- erally alive with eager fish. The deep, dark water actually effervesced, stirred into bul:)bles and foam. Six trout did T see at once in mid-air, in zealous rivalry to seize the coveted flies. Fifteen succes- sive casts were made, and twenty-three trout lay flaj)ping on the bottom of the boat. But of them all none would weigh over three quarters of a pound ; yet had I seen fish riee which must have balanced twice that weight. I turned to John and said, "Wliy don't some of those large ones take the fly?" " Presently, presently," responded he. " The little ones are too quick for them ; cast away quick and sharp, waste no time, snap them off, never mind the flies, and when you have cleared the sur- face of the small fry you will see what lies at the bottom." I complied. At last, after some forty had been flung down the stream, the rises became less frequent, the water less agitated, and, partly to rest my \vrist and partly to give John time to adjust new and larger flies, I paused. In five minutes the current had cleared the pool of bub- 70 ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. bles, and the dark water settled gradually into sul- len repose. " Now," said John, " lengthen your line and cast at that patch of lily-pads lying under the hemlock there, and if a large one rises, strike * hard." I did as desired. The flies, in response to the twist of the pliant rod, rose into the air, darted forward, and, pausing over the lily-pads, lighted deftly on the water. Scarcely had their trail made itself visible on the smooth surface, be- fore a two-pounder gleamed out of the dark depths, and rolling his golden side up to the light, closed his jaws upon the white moth. I struck. Stung by the pain, he flung himself, with a mighty effort, high in air, hoping to fall upon the leader and snap the slender gut. Dropping the point of my rod, he came harmlessly down upon the slack. Eecovering himself, he dove to the bottom, sulking. Bearing gradually upon his mouth, the only re- sponse I got was a sullen sliaking, as a dog shakes a woodchuck. Fearing his sharp teeth would cut the already well-chafed snell, I bore stoutly upon him, lifting him bodily up toward the surface. When near the top, giving one desperate shake, he started. Back and forth, round and round that pool he flashed, a gleam of yellow liglit through the dark water, until at last, wearied and exhausted by his efforts, he rolled over upon his side and lay * This word is one employed by sportsmen to denote the motion with wliicli the fish is hooked. THE NA:iIELESS CREEK. 71 panting upon tlie surface. Jolm deftly passed the landing-net under liim, and the next minute he lay amid his smaller brethren in the boat. I paused a moment to admire. A bluish-black trout he was, dotted with spots of bright vermilion. His fins, rosy as autumnal skies at sunset, were edged with a border of purest white. His tail was broad and thick ; eyes prominent, mouth wide and armed with briery teeth. A trout in color and build rarely seen, gamy and stanch. Noosing on a fresh fly in place of the one his teeth had mangled, I made ready for another cast. Expecting much, I was not prepared for what followed. Now, all ye lovers of bright waters and green- sward, who lift a poor half-pounder with your Ijig trolling-rod and call it sport, listen and learn what befell one of your craft at sunset at the pool of the Nameless Creek. Nameless let it be, until she who most would have enjoyed it shall, on some future sunset, floating amid the lilies, cast flies upon its tide. A backward motion of the tip, and a half-turn of the wrist, and the three flies leaped ujjward and ahead. Spreading themselves out as they reached the limit of the cast, like flakes of feathery snow they settled, wavering downward ; when suddenly up out of the depth, cleaving the water in concert, one to each fly, three trout appeared. At the same instant, high in mid-air, their jaws closed on 72 ADVKNTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. the barbed hooks. No shout from John was need- ed to make me strike. I struck so quick and strong that the leader twanged like a snapped bow-string, and the tip of the light rod flew down nearly to the reel. All three icerc lioolicd. Three trout, weighing in the aggregate seven pounds, held by a single hair on a nine-ounce rod, in a pool fringed with lily-pads, forty by thirty feet across ! Then followed what to enjoy again I would ride thrice two hundred miles. The contest, requiring nerve and skill on the fisher's part, was to keep the plunging fish out of the lily-pads, in which, should they once become entangled, the gut would part like a thread of corn-silk or the spider's gossamer line. Up and down, to and fro, they glanced. The lithe rod bent like a coachman's whip to the un- usual strain, and the leader sung as it cut through the water with the whir of a pointed bullet. At last, when at the farthest corner of the pool, they doubled short upon tlie line, and as one fish rushed straight for the boat. Fishermen know what that movement means. " Give 'em the butt ! give 'em the butt ! " shouted John. " Smash your rod or stop 'em ! " Never before had I feared to thrust the butt of that rod out toward an advancing fish ; but here were three, each large enough to task a common rod, untired and frenzied with pain, rush- ing directly toward me. If I hesitated, it was but an instant, for the cry of John to " Smash her ! THE NAMELESS CREEK. 73 smash your rod or stop 'em ! " decided the matter. Gripping the extreme butt with one hand, and chitcliing the reel with the other, I hehl them steadily out, toward the oncoming fish. " Good by, old rod," I mentally exclaimed, as I saw the three gleaming forms dash under the boat ; "standi as you are, you can't stand that." An instant, and the pressure came upon the reel. I gripped it tightly, not giving an inch. The pliant rod doubled itself up under the strain, until the point of the tip was stretched a foot below the hand which grasped the Initt, and the quivering lance-wood lay across the distended knuckles. Nor fish nor rod could stand that pressure long. I could feel the fibres creep along the delicate shaft, and the mottled line, woven of choicest silk, at- tenuated under the strain, seemed like a single hair. I looked at John. His eyes were fastened upon the rod. I glanced down the stream, and even at the instant the three magnificent fish, forced gradually up l)y the pliancy of what they could not break, broke the smooth surface and lay with open mouths and gasping gills upon the tide. In trying to land the three, the largest one escaped. The other two averaged sixteen inches long. AVith- in tlie space of forty minutes nearly a hundred trout had been taken, fifty of which, varying from one quarter of a pound to two pounds and a half in weight, lay along the bottom of the boat; the rest 4 74 ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. had been cast back into the water, as unhooked by John. It was Saturday evening. The sun had gone down behind the western mountains, and amid the gathering shadows we sought a camp. We found one in the shape of a small bark lodge, which John himself had erected fourteen years previous, when, in company with an old trapper, he camped one fall upon the shores of this lake. Kindling a fire in the long-neglected fireplace, we sat down to our supper under the clear sky already thickly dotted with stars. From seven in the morning until eight in the evening we had been without food. I have an indistinct recollection that I put myself outside of elev^en trout, and that John managed to surround nine more. But there may be an error of one or two either way, for I am under the impression that my mental faculties were not in the best working condition at the close of the meal. John recollects distinctly that he cooked twenty-one fish, and but three could be found in the pan when we stopped eating, which he care- fully laid aside that we might take a bite before going to sleep ! Our meal was served up in three courses. The first course consisted of trout and pancakes ; the second course, pancakes and trout ; the tliird, fish and flapjacks. III. RUNNING THE RAPIDS. •• "\ T OW for the rapids," said John, as our boat ■^ ^ left the tranqviil waters of the lake, and, sweeping around a huge shelving ledge, shot into the narrow channel, where the Waters, converged from either shore, were gathering themselves for the foam and thunder below. The rapids were three miles in length, — one stretch of madly rushing water, save where, at the foot of some long flight or perpendicular fall, a pool lay, specked with bubbles, and flecked with patches of froth. The river is paved with rocks, and full of boulders, amid which the water glides smooth and deep, or dashes with headlong vio- lence against them. And ever and anon, at the head of some steep declivity, gathering itself for flight, downward it shoots with arrowy swiftness, until, bursting over a fall, it buries itself in the pool beneath. At the head of such a stretch of water, whose roar and murmur filled the air, we ran our boats ashore. Never until this season had these rapids been run, even by the guides ; and now, untried, 76 ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. inexperienced, against the advice of friends, I was to attempt, unaided and alone, to guide my boat past ledge, through torrents, and over waterfalls, to the still bay below. The preparation was simple, and soon made. I strapped my rifle, rod, and all my baggage to the sides and bottom of the boat, relaced my moccasins and tightened my belt, so that, in case I stove the shell, or, failing to keep her steady, should cajDsize her, I might take to the water light, and have my traps drift ashore with the wreck. Nevertheless, I did not intend that the boat should upset ; indeed, the chances were in my favor. Oars and boats had been my play- things from a boy ; and wild indeed must be the current up and across which I could not shoot the shell in which I sat, — made of forest pine, fourteen feet in length, sharp as an arrow, and weighing but seventy pounds. In addition, John had given me valuable hints, the sum of which might be expressed thus : " In currents, keep her straight ; look out for underlying rocks, and smash your oars before you smash your boat." " Little danger," I said to myself, " of snapping oar-blades made of second-growth ash, and only eight feet from butt to tip." Yet it was not without some misgiving that I shot my boat out into the swift current, and with steady stroke held her on the verge of the first flight of water, while I scanned the foam and eddies for the best opening between RUNNING THK RAPIDS. 77 the rocks to get her through. In shooting ra[)- ids the oarsman faces down stream in order to watch the currents, direct his course, and, if need be, when within his power, and danger is ahead, to check his flight and choose another course. The great thing and the essential thing to learn and do is to take the advantage of the currents, whirls, and eddies, so as to sway your boat, and pass from this to that side of the rapids easily. The agree- ment was, that John should precede me in his boat ; that I, watching his motions, and guided by his course somewhat, might be assisted in the descent by his experience. A good arrangement, surely ; but " The best laid schemes o' mice and men Gang aft agley," as we found before half a mile of the course had been run ; for my l)oat, being new and light, beside less lieavily loaded than John's, caught at the head of some falls by the swift current, darted down the steep decline, and entering side by side, with a mighty leap, the yeasty foam, shot out ahead, and from that moment led the race to the foot of the rapids. But I anticipate. Thus, as I said, I sat in my boat, holding her steadily, by strength of oar, in mid-stream, where the water smoothed itself for the plunge, until John, with friend Burns sitting upon his feet like 78 ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. a Yurk, on the bottom of the boat, holding on to either side with his hands to steady himself (whether John had strapped him down or not i can't surely say), pushed from shore, and, taking the current above, brushed swiftly by, with the injunction to " follow." I obeyed. Down we glided, past rock and ledge, swerving now this side, now that, sweeping round giant boulders and jutting banks, down under the dark balsams and overhanging pines, the suction growing stronger and stronger, the flight swifter, until the boats, like eagles swooping on one prey, took the last utretch almost side by side, and, lifted high up on the verge of the first falls, made the wild leaj) together, and disappeared into the yeasty foam^ whence, rising buoyantly, uplifted by the swelling water, shot out of the foam and mist, and, like birds fresh from sport, floated cork-like on the pool below. We paused a moment to breathe, when, looking up, the two remaining boats, guided by Jerry and the younger Eobinson, bearing Southwick and Everitt as passengers, came sweeping round the curve, and rushing, as from the roof of a house, to the brink of the fall, flung themselves into the abyss, and in a moment lay along our side. The excitement was intense. No words can describe the exhilaration of such a fliglit. It was thought, after mature delil)erati()n by the company, that RUNNING THE RAPIDS. 79 Everitt's delighted yell alone, in ordinary weather, with a little wind in its favor, might have been heard easily sixteen miles. His whole being, cor- poral and spiritual, seemed to resolve itself into one prolonged howl of unmitigated happiness. Having rested ourselves, we started again. By this time, brief as the experience had been, I had learned much as to the action of currents, and \\'as able to judge pretty correctly how low a rock or ledge lay under water l)y the size and motion of the swirl above it. One learns fast in action ; and fifteen minutes of actual experience amid rapids does more to teach the eye and hand what to do, and how to do it, than any amount of infor- mation gathered from other sources. To sit in your light shell of a boat, in mid-current, with rocks on either side, where the bed of the river declines at an angle of thirty degrees, knowing that a miscalculation of the eye, a misstroke of the oar or the least shaking of the muscles will send your boat rolling over and over, and you under it, has a very strong tendency to make a man look sharp and keep his wits about him. AVell, as I said, we started. For some fifty rods the current was comparatively smooth and slow. Tlie river was wide and the decline not sharp. The chief difficulty we found to be in avoiding the stones and rocks with which the bottom of the river is paved, and which in many places were 80 ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. barely covered. My boat, with only myself in it, needed but some two inches of water to float in, and would pass safely over where tlie other boats would touch or refuse to go at all. It required great care on the part of the guides to let theirs over gently, as their bottoms are but little thicker than pasteboard, and held by small copper tacks. At last the shallows were past, and, Ijringing our boats in line, one behind the other, we made all ready for another rush. The sight from this point was grand. Our boats were poised as on the ridge-board of a house, while below, for some twenty rods, the water went tearing down ; now gliding over a smooth shelving ledge, with the quick, tremulous motion of a serpent, and now torn to shreds by jagged rocks at tlie bottom, and again beat back by huge boulders which lifted themselves in mid-current, presenting to the eye one continuous stretch of mad turmoil and riot. At the foot of the reach the eye could just discern the smooth, glassy rim of a fall, we knew not how high, while far down the river, shut from view by a sharp curve, the rush and roar of other falls rose sullenly up through the heavy pines and overhanii'inu' hemlocks, which almost arched the current from side to side. At a word from John, who, leading the van, sat as a warrior might sit his steed, bareheaded and erect, the oars were lifted, and the freed boats, as though eager for RUNNING THE RAPIDS. 81 flight, started downward. Away, away they flew. If before they went like birds, they went like eagles noAV. No keeping in line here ; each man for himself in this wild race ; and woe to boatman and to boat if an oar should break or oar-bolt snap. Close after John, gaining at every rush, my light boat sped. No thought for others, all eye and nerve for self, with a royal upleaping of blood, as my face, wet with the spray, clove through the air, I flashed until the fall was reached, and, side by side, with trailing oars, we took the leap together. Down, down we sank into the feathery foam ; the froth flung high over us as we splashed into it. Down, down, as if the pool had no bottom, we went, our boats half full of spume and foam, till the reacting water under- neath caught the light shells up and flung them out of the yeast and mist, dripping inside and out, from stem to stern, as sea-birds rising from a plunge. No stop nor stay for breathing here. Around the curve, by no effort of mine leading the race, I went, swept down another reach and over another fall, and, without power to pause a moment, entered into the third before I had time to think. Steeper than all behind, it lay before me, but straight, and for a distance smooth, for aught I could see as I shook the spray from my eyes, until it narrowed, and the converging tor- rent met between two overhanging rocks in one 4* » 82 ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. huge ridge of tossing, swelling w^ater. What lay below I knew not ; how steep the fall, or on what bottom I should land. In rapids, John had told me, the wildest water was the safest, and so I steered straight for the highest swell of water and the whitest foam. Fancy a current, rods in width, converging as it glides, until the mass of rushing water is brought as into an eaves-trough five feet across, with sharp, jutting rocks for sides, where the compressed water flings itself wildly up, in- dignant at the restraint put upon it ; and then fancy yourself in a boat weighing but seventy pounds, gliding down with a swiftness almost painful into the narrow funnel through which, bursting, you must shoot a fall you cannot see, but whose roar rises heavily over the dash of the torrent, and you can realize what it is to shoot the rapids of the Eacquette Eiver, and my position at the time. Balancing myself nicely on the seat, dipping the oar-blades until their lower edges brushed along the tide, I kept my eyes steadily upon the narrow aperture, and let her glide. Nothing but the pressure of the air upon the cheek, as the face clove it, and the sharp whistling of the seething current, bespeaks the swiftness with which you move. When near the narrow gorge, — which you must take square in the centre, and in direct line, or smash your boat to flinders, — while the RUNNING THE RAPIDS. 83 width would yet allow, wishing some steerage-way before I entered the chasm, I threw my whole strength upon the oars. The lithe ash bent to the strain, and the boat quivered from stem to stern under the quick stroke. Then, bending for- ward upon the seat, with oars at a trail, I shot into the opening between the rocks. For an in- stant the oar-blades grated along their sides, and then, riding upon the crest of a Avave, I passed out of the damp passage, and lo ! the fall whose roar I had heard yawned just beneath me. Quick as thought, I swung the oars ahead, and as the bil- \o\v lifted me high up upon the very brink, gave way with all my might. AYhatever spare strength I had lying anywhere about me, at that particular point of time, I am under the impression was thrown into those oar-blades. The boat was fairly lifted off the wave, and shot into the air. For an instant, it touched neither water nor foam, then dropped into the boiling caldron. Another stroke and it darted out of the seething mass with less than a gallon of water along the bottom. TJie rapids ivcrc run ! Wiping the sweat from my face, and emptying the water from the barrels of my rifle, I rested on my oars, to see the boys come down. 0, royal sight it was, to see them come, one after another, — John leading the van, — over the verge ! As boats in air they seemed, witli airy boatmen, as they came dashing along. 84 ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. 0, royal sport, to see tliem glide like arrows down the steep, at an angle so sharp that I conld see the bottom board in each boat, from stem to stern ! 0, noble sight to see them enter in between the mighty rocks, — the chasm shutting them from view a moment, — from which, emerging in quick succession, with mighty leaps, quivering like sporting fish, they shot the falls triumph- antly ! What sports have we in house and city like those which the children of wood and stream enjoy ? — heroic sports which make heroic men. Sure I am, that never until we four have done with boats and boating, and, under other pilotage, have entered into and passed through the waters of a colder stream, shall we forget the running of the Eacquette Eapids, on that bright summer day. And often, as we pause a moment from work, above the harsh rumble of car and cart, the sound of file and hammer, rises the roar of the rapids. And often, through the hot, smoky air of town and city, to cool and refresh us, will drift, from the far north, tlie breeze that blows forever on the Eacquette, rich with the odors of balsam and of pine. That night I slept upon the floor at Palmer's, proud to feel that I was the first " gentleman " — in the language of the guides — " that ever ran the rapids " ; prouder of that than of deeds, at- RUNNING THE RAPIDS. 8o tempted or done, of which most men would longer dream. I nearly forgot to state that several un- earthly yells in the chamber overhead, during the night, revealed the fact ^,hat somebody, in dreams, was still rimning the rapids. IV. THE BALL. WE were seven in all, — as jolly a set of fel- lows as ever rollicked under the pines, or startled the owls with laughter, that summer of '67, when camping on the Eacquette. Our com- pany represented a variety of business and profes- sions ; but, happily, we were of one temper and taste. There was Hubbard, a gentleman faultless in bearing and speech ; the fit of whose coat and the gloss of whose boots, whether you met him in Wall Street or at his manufactory in Connecticut, might well stir the envy of an exquisite. There was Everitt, to whose name you could write photog- rapher, artist, violinist ; the most genial, sunny, kind-hearted, and roUicksome fellow that ever en- livened a camp, or blest the world with his pres- ence. South wick, when at home, supplied half the city with soles ; Avho sells boots and shoes in such a manner as to make you feel, as you go stamping away from his presence, that he has done you a spe- cial favor in condescending to take your money at all ; a man who crossed tlie Isthmus, and tunnelled THE BALL. 87 the gulches of California for gold in 1848 ; a shrewd, wide-awake Yankee, such as are grown principally in that smartest of all our States, — the Nutmeg State. And there, too, was Fitch, who had han- dled the saw and lancet in the army during the Nvar. And Fay, the la^^"yer, who had fought the battle all young laAvy^ers must fight, and Avon. And Burns, and the I'arson. A goodly set of fellows, one and all, e(j^ually ready for business or fun. We were on our way " out," bronzed and tough from exposure to the sun, water, and wind ; and with hearts as free from care and as liu'ht as chil- dren's, we clomb the hill, at the base of which we had run our boats ashore, and entered, with merry greetings. Uncle Palmer's house. What a hungry set we were, when, at four o'clock that afternoon, we drew up to that never-to-be forgotten table ! What jokes and stories and peals of laughter en- livened the repast, and made the tal)le and dishes shake and clatter as the meal progressed. N(j coarseness nor rudeness there ; each man a gentle- man, still, amid the liveliest sally of wit and loud- est roar of merriment. At last the meal was o\-er, and we adjourned to the open air to smoke or lounge, or to engage in rivalry of skill, until the day, rich in its summer loveliness, should fade away. Several matches with the rifle — the result of boastful banter — at last enoaiie the attention of 90 ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. this had the true sermon ring. No, I had not lost my power. My birthright had not been filched from me. I began to feel the oratorical impulse once more. I drew myself up, closed the thumb and two middle fingers of my left hand, and point- ing the other two directly at the audience, as I had seen some of our celebrated orators, clenched the fight fist, and shook it at an invisible foe over my head, — a gesture borrowed from some of our Congressmen, — and shouted : " Dancing will be a perilous amusement to you to-night ; because — because — " I lost the connection here, but re- membering what a slight matter such a lapse is in a sermon, before most congregations, and feel- ing that it would not do to stop just there, con- tinued, — " beccmse it leads to a promiscuous min- gling of the two sexes. On this ground I am to-night, and ever shall be, opposed to it. I warn you against Mr. Southwick's suggestion." At this point I was interrupted by the most uproarious tumult. Intense and indecorous mer- riment seized the entire group. Hubbard was pressing his hands against his sides in the most suggestive manner. Everitt was hammer- ing Southwick with both fists upon his back, in the hope of saving him from death by stran- gulation. It was impossible to proceed. I was conscious that I ought to go on. I had several splendid sentences all ready for utterance. I felt THE BALL. 91 that every moment I was losing my hold upon the audience. Still the uproar grew. In wrath, min- gled with love, I descended from the slabs, and taking Burns gently but decidedly by the collar, demanded the cause of his unseemly mirth. Sobered slightly by my attitude, which was sternly affectionate, Burns managed to articulate, " How can there be a ' promiscuous mingling of the sexes ' in this crowd ? " I stood perfectly dumb. I saw the justness of the criticism and the dilemma suggested. I real- ized, at that moment, the value of logical connec- tion. Had my audience been in a church, and devoutly drowsy or piously asleep, such a slight slip would never have been noticed, and the report of the sermon, ^^Titten out by a godless expert, who had not left his hotel during the day, would have ap- peared excellently in ^Monday's papers. I retired in haste and mortification from the yelling and writhing group ; nor did I regain my composure until tlie sounds of Everitt's violin cliarined tlie darkness from my soul as the harp of David exorcised by its melody the wicked spirit from the bosom of Saul. Now Everitt is a natural fiddler. He fiddles as easily as a rabbit runs. While camping on Con- stable Point, on the Racquette, we had several fconcerts. They were, in eveiy sense, impromptu 92 ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. affairs. The audience was small, but very appreci- ative. (That sentence is not original. I borrowed it from the musical column of the New York Her- ald.) These concerts were especially well sus- tained ; that is, for about four hours and a half each time. We had some very fine singing at those soirees. {Soirees is a good word. It sounds well. That 's Avhy I use it.) I hesitate to in- stance individual members of this troupe, lest it should seem invidious. Hubbard is an excellent singer. He missed his chance of eminence when he went into business. He should have taken to the stage. The Parson would have distinguished himself, liad he lived before notes were invented. iSTothing in the M^orld but notes prevents him from ranking first class. Even this fact did not pre- clude him from standing high in this company. Nevertheless, I am still impressed with the thought that he was born too late. I never listened to a circle of amateurs wdio seemed to rise so superior to the arbitrary dictum of the masters as did tliis. Not one of them, so far as I could observe, allowed any such artificial impediments as notes, pitch, time, and the like, to obstruct the splendid out- bursts of nature. In point of emphasis, which is, as all my readers know, the great desideratum in music, I judge them to be unrivalled. In tliat classic stanza, " There sat three crows upon a tree," THE BALL. 93 their emphasis was magnificent. But I was tell- ing about Everitt's fiddling. Nature dealt botmti- t'ully with my friend in tliis respect. His capacity and perseverance in drawing a bow border on the mar^'ellous. Indeed, he is a kind of animated mu- sical machine. Set him going, and he Avill play through the entire list of known tunes before he comes to a halt. His intense actiAuty in this di- rection afforded the only possible solution for the greatest mystery of the camp, — Everitt's appetite while in the woods. I find in my " notes " a math- ematical calculation, made the fifth night in camp. It was the result of the gravest deliberation on the part of the whole company, and is beyond doubt nearly correct. Tliis is tlie fornmla : — " Exhaustion of muscular filjre through fiddling, two pounds per night. Consumption of venison steak, three and a half pounds. " Not gain to Everitt, one pound and a half per night." Tliis conclusion contributed materially to relieve the minds of the company from an anxiety con- cerning the possilile results of the trip to Everitt. "When I entered the room, drawn thither, as I have said, by the tones of the violin, the company were in full career. The intricacies of the Vir- ginia reel were being threaded out with a rapidity which, with ladies for partners, would have been rathei embarrassing. After the C|uadrille, Spanish 94 ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. dance, and several others had been gone through, the floor was cleared for individual exhibitions of skill. Then was the double-shuffle executed with an energy never excelled. Gentlemen and guides contended in friendly rivalry. Everitt was in prime condition, and drew the bow with a vehemence which, if long continued, would liave sent him out of the woods lighter in flesh by several pounds than when he came in. At last the floor was again cleared, partners cliosen, and with every rule of etiquette observed, good old money-musk was honored, — partners gallantly saluted as if they were ladies, jewelled and fair, and the company seated. At this point the proceedings assumed a new character. The conversation might be reported thus : — Guide. " I suppose you folks down in the settle- ments don't dance as we do ? " Everitt. "Well, no, not exactly. Our dances are largely French." Guide. " Do tell ! Well, now, how is that ? " Everitt. " I do not think I could give you a cor- rect idea of them ; they are very peculiar." Guide. " Come, now, could n't some of you give us a notion about it ? We would like to see how you dance down in the cities." Everitt. " The fact is, we have more action in our dancing than you have in yours. It would THE BALL. 95 make your eyes stick out to see a French dance." Guides. " Come, now," they all shouted, " show us how it is done ; we all want to see. Give us one of your tip-top French dances. Come, now." " Well, fellows," said Evuritt, giving us the wink as he tuned his violin, " what say you, shall \ve show our friends how to dance a real, s^^'inging French dance ? If so, shall we put Hubbard or Southwick on the floor ? " " 0, Southwick by all means ! " shouted Burns. " No disparagement to Hubbard, but Southwick is the man ; especially if he will give us the dance he danced last summer on our fishing-trip ' Down East.' " So it was arranged, and Southwick took the liint and the floor. Now Southwick was the best dancer there ; that is, he covered the most ground. His performance was the theme of universal remark. His style was superb. There was a certain ahandon in it, which few Americans could rival. I know of but one word whicli can at all describe Southwick when dancing ; it is — omnipresent. Tliis epithet is moderately accurate. The room was some thirty-five feet long, but he was often at both ends of it at the same time. If to rivet the attention of the audience is success, my friend certainly achieved it. There was but one thought on the part of the whole company 96 ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. whenever South wick danced ; it was to get out of the way. Greater unanimity in this respect was never seen. Never, before that evening, did I de- sire that a room might have more than four corners, but I more than once devoutly wished that that room had had sixteen. Sixteen would not have been one too many, wdth my friend on the floor. I called Uncle Palmer's attention to the terrible lack of corners in his house. At the time I made the suggestion, the old gentleman was trying to force himself in between the door-post and the sheath- ing. He appeared to appreciate it. After a few preliminary flourishes, Everitt shouted the word "Go ! " and South wick struck out. I saw him com- ing, and dodged ; I escaped. The next time he swung round, I was prepared for him. There w^ere several wooden pins driven into the logs near the ceiling, such as our forefathers were wont to season their beef-hams on. Spying one of these just over my head, as I stood flattened against the wall, I vaulted from the floor and clutched it. The scene from this point of view was very picturesque. The fellows had oliserved my movement, and followed my example : it affected them like an inspiration. In an instant the whole company were suspended from pins around the room. A sense of the ludi- crous overcame m-y terror, and I began to laugh. That laugh grew on me. I found myself unable to stop laughing. My eyes began to moisten and run THE BALL. 97 over. Now, a man cannot laugh in that fashion, and hang on to a pin at the same time. I have tried it, and know. First one finger began to slip, then another loosened and gave way a little ; the mus- cles of my hand would not obey my will to con- tract. I found it impossible to retighten my grip ; I knew it would probalily be fatal to drop. I endeavored to stop laughing. Now, it is a well- known fact, that when one tries to stop laugh- ing he can't. If you ever doubted this, reader, never doubt it again. If any man strove to stop, I did. My effort was vain. I fairly shook my- self off the pin, and dropped. That sobered me. The instant I struck the floor, all laugh- ter departed. I saw Southwick coming. I seized hold of the window-sill, the wood of which was cedar ; I sunk my nails deep into it ; it Juki. The next time he swung round the circle I was saved by a miracle, that is, in a way I cannot account for. I was just poising my- self for a plunge at the door, when the music ceased, and my friend sat down. We all cheered him immensely. I cheered louder than all the rest. I never had greater cause to cheer. Every- body complimented him. One exclaimed, " What a free action ! " another, " How liberal in style ! " I said, " Astonishing ! " We all saw that it had made a great impression on the guides. They said that " they had no idea folks danced so, down in 5 Q 98 ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. the settlements." " It is n't anything to what I could do if the room was only larger, is it ? " said he, appealing to me. " No ; this room is terribly cramped," I responded, thinking of my narrow escape, and fearful that he might repeat the per- formance ; " no educated dancer can do himself justice in it ; I would not try again, if I were in your place." At this point of the entertainment a delightful addition was made to the party. Certain messen- gers, who started early in the evening on horses and in boats, had scoured the country and lake shore, and returned accompanied by a bevy of young ladies. Their entrance caused great com- motion. Hubbard glanced uneasily at his un- polished boots. Burns had fished a pair of old kids from the depth of his hunting-shirt pocket, and was inspecting their condition behind South- wick's back. Everitt suddenly discovered that he could keep his seat without the use of three chairs. The Parson brightened up at the prospect that his philippic against dancing, and the "promiscuous mingling of the sexes," might yet be delivered with effect. Tliere was a dead pause. All were introduced to the ladies, each guide presenting " his man." Uncle Palmer's benignant face ap- peared at the door, looking perfectly jubilant. Here the writer would gladly pause. He feels