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 ■V- 
 
 ADVENTURES 
 
 OF 
 
 AN ANGLER IN CANADA. 
 
I 
 
 SuJ^a.rd. del 
 
 :!?.& C Ccck. sc. 
 
 € laiAM jl j1 ::. AB'MAH , 
 
 AUTHOR OP" A.DV^fJTURF S Oh AM AMGTV.R IN AMER'CA. 
 
 Lo-naoTi-R-' c>i a^rd BeBtLey,1848 
 
ADVENTURES 
 
 or 
 
 AN ANGLER IN CANADA, 
 
 NOVA SCOTIA 
 
 AND THE UNITED STATES. 
 
 BY CHARLES LANMAN. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 
 ^ttblisficr (k ^rtJinaru to 1|er J^lajcstB. 
 
 ^'■-^'^■'"^V■■■.■-^ 1848. 
 
I 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Printed by Schulze & Co., 18, Poland Street. 
 
I 
 
 TO 
 
 SOLOMON T. NICOLL, ESQ. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 To you, in testimony of my friendship, I inscribe 
 this little Volume. 
 
 On a pleasant morning in May last, I awoke 
 from a piscatorial dream, haunted by the idea, that 
 I must spend a portion of the approaching summer 
 in the indulgence of my passion for angling. 
 Relinquishing my editorial labours for a time, I 
 performed a pilgrimage, which has resulted in the 
 production of this Volume. I hope it may entertain 
 those of my friends and the public, who have 
 heretofore received my literary efforts with favour. 
 
} 
 
 n 
 
 DEDICATION. 
 
 The work will be found to contain a record of 
 Adventures in the Valleys of the Hudson, St. 
 Lawrence and St. John, and along some of the 
 rivers of New England. 
 
 I. 'I 
 
 * 
 
 i 
 
 Truly your friend. 
 
 Charles Lanman. 
 
 kV 
 
 \ 
 
 NEW-YORK, 1847. 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS, 
 
 CATSKILL MOUNTAINS . 
 
 LAKE HORICON . 
 
 RUINS OF FORT TICONDEROOA 
 
 FRANCONIA NOTCH 
 
 FALLS OF MONTMORENCY 
 
 CAPE TRINITY ON THE SAGUENAY 
 
 FALLS OF THE ST. JOHN 
 
 ROBERT EOOER's FARM ON THE AROOSTOOK 
 
 Page 2 
 53 
 117 
 138 
 162 
 180 
 242 
 250 
 
M 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The Catskill Mountains — South Peak Mountain — A thunder 
 storm — Midnight on the Mountains — Sunrise — Plauterkill 
 Clove— Peter Hummel — Trout fishing — Stony Clove— The 
 Kauterskill Fall — The Mountain House — The Mountain Lake. 
 
 PAGE 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A Spring Day— The Sky — The Mountains— The Streams — The 
 Woods— The Open Fields — Domestic Animals— Poetry — The 
 Poultry-yard . . . . . . 29 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A corn-planting Bee 
 
 43 
 
I 
 
 ■'l 
 
 \i 
 
 X CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Lake Horicon —Sketches of its scenery — Information for anglers — 
 Sabbath-day Point — War memories — ^The Turret City— Death 
 of a deer— Roger's Slide— Diamond Island — The snake-charmer 
 — Snake stories — Night on the Horicon. . . 50 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The Scaroon Country— Scaroon Lake — Pike Fishing by Torch-light 
 —Trout Fishing— Lindsey'* Tavern — Paradox Lake . 69 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The Adirondac Momitains— Trout Fishing in the Boreas River — 
 A night in the woods— Moose Lake— Lake Delia— Mount Taha- 
 was — Lakes Sanford and Henderson — The Mclntyre Iron 
 Works ....... 80 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 John Cheney, the Adirondac himter, and some of his exploits. 
 
 100 
 
 ■'if. 
 
 ■Ai 
 ■■^ik 
 
 1 
 
 M 
 
 Qi 
 
 Tl 
 
 Tl 
 
 Sei 
 
 I 
 
 f ■<■ 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 Burlington— Lake Champlain — Distinguished Men . 115 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Stage-coach— The Winooski — The Green Mountains— The ruined 
 Dwelling— The White Mountains— The Flume— A deep Pool — 
 The Old Man of the Mountain— The Basin — Franconia Notch — 
 View of the Mountains— Mount Washington — The Notch 
 Valley. ....... 130 
 
 Th 
 
 Th 
 
 Th 
 
 (J 
 ' i] 
 
 II I 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 XI 
 
 Montreal . 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 148 
 
 Quebec 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 155 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A sail down the St. Lawrence— S word-Fish— Chasing a Whale. 
 
 164 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 The Saguenay River — Chicoutimi — Storm Picture— Hudson's Bay 
 Company— Eminent Merchant—The Mountaineer Indians — 
 Tadousac— Ruin of a Jesuit Establishment . . 173 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 The Salmon— Salmon Adventures. 
 
 187 
 
 115 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 Seal-hunting on the St. Lawrence— 'The white Porpoise . 204 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 The Esquimaux Indians of Labrador . . . 212 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 The Habitans of Canada . . . . .218 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 The Grand Portage into New Brunswick— Lake Timiscouta— The 
 Madawaska River ..... 225 
 
ii 
 
 xii 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 The Adadians ..... 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 Sail down the Madawaska — The Falls of tht St. John 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 The Hermit of Aroostook 
 
 The River St. John 
 
 The Penobscot River 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 232 
 
 238 
 
 244 
 
 266 
 
 272 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 Moosehead Lake — The River Kennebeck . . . 278 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 A Fishing Party on the Thames — Watch Hill— Night Adventures. 
 
 291 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 A week in a Fishing Smack->Fisherman— A beautiful morning 
 at sea — A day at Nantucket — Wreck of a ship — Night on the 
 Sound ....... 308 
 
 .¥ 
 
 4 
 
266 
 
 272 
 
 ADVENTURES 
 
 OF AN 
 
 ANGLER. 
 
 278 
 
 Adventures. 
 291 
 
 il morning 
 
 ^ht on the 
 
 308 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The Catskill Mountains — South Peak Mountain — A thunder 
 storm — Midnight on the Mountains — Sunrise — Plauterkill 
 Clove — Peter Hummel — Trout fishing — Stony Clove — The 
 Kauterskill FaU— The Mountain House— The Mountain Lake. 
 
 Plauterkill Clove. May. 
 
 I COMMENCE this chapter in the language of 
 Leather-Stocking: "You knbw the Catskills, lad, 
 .'or you must have seen them on your left, as you 
 followed the river up from York, looking as blue as 
 a piece of clear sky, and holding the clouds on their 
 tops, as the smoke curls over the head of an 
 Indian chief at a council-fire/' Yes, every body is 
 acquainted with the names of these mountains, but 
 few with their pecuUarities of scenery. They are 
 
 B 
 
o 
 
 THE CATSKILLS. 
 
 situated about eight miles from the Hudson, rise to 
 an average elevation of thirty-five hundred feet, and 
 running in a straight line from north to south, 
 cover a space of some twenty-five miles. The fertile 
 valley on the east is as beautiful as heart could 
 desire; it is watered by the Kauterskill, Plauterkill 
 
 '-•• .1.' 
 
 CATSKILL MOUNTAINS. 
 
 1 
 
 and Esopus Creeks, inhabited by a sturdy Dutch 
 yeomanry, and is the agricultural mother of 
 Catskill, Saugerties and Kingston. The upland 
 on the west, for about forty miles, is rugged, dreary, 
 and thinly settled; but the winding valley of 
 Schoharie beyond, is possessed of many charms 
 peculiarly American. The mountains themselves 
 are covered with dense forests, abounding in cliffs 
 
THE CATSKILLS. 
 
 8 
 
 rise to 
 et, and 
 south, 
 3 fertile 
 t could 
 uterkill 
 
 Dutch m 
 
 ;her of 1 
 
 upland :M 
 
 , dreary, 
 
 lUey of 
 
 charms 
 
 smselves 
 
 in cliffs 
 
 and waterfalls, and for the most part untrodden by 
 the footsteps of men. Looking at them from the 
 Hudson, the eye is attracted by two deep hollows, 
 which are called " Cloves." 
 
 The one nearest to the Mountain House, Kauter- 
 skill Clove, is distinguished for a remarkable fall, 
 which has been made familiar to the world by the 
 pen of Bryant and the pencil of Cole ; but this Clove 
 is rapidly filling up with human habitations ; while 
 the other, Plauterkill Clove, though yet possessing 
 much of its original glory, is certain of the same 
 destiny. The gorge whence issues the Esopus, is 
 among the Shaudaken mountains, and not visible 
 from the Hudson. 
 
 My nominal residence, at the present time, is at 
 the mouth of Plauterkill Clove. To the west, and 
 only half a mile from my abode, are the beautiful 
 mountains, whose outlines fade away to the north, 
 like the waves of the sea when covered with a 
 visible atmosphere. The nearest, and to me the 
 most beloved of these, is called South Peak. It is 
 nearly four thousand feet high, and covered from 
 base to summit with one vast forest of trees, varying 
 from eighty to a hundred feet in height. Like its 
 brethren, it is a wild and uncultivated wilderness, 
 abounding in all the interesting features of moun- 
 tain scenery. Like a corner stone does it stand at 
 
 B 2 
 
4 
 
 HUNTER S HOLE. 
 
 W • 
 
 the junction of the northern and western ranges of 
 the Catskills, and as its huge form looms against 
 the evening sky, it inspires one with awe, as if it 
 were the ruler of the world : and yet, I have learned 
 to love it as a friend. I have pondered upon its 
 impressive features, when reposing in the noon-tide 
 sunshine, when enveloped in clouds, when holding 
 communion with the most holy night, and when 
 trembling under the influence of a thunder-storm, 
 and encircled by a rainbow. It has filled my soul 
 with images of beauty and sublimity, and made me 
 feel the omnipotence of God. 
 
 A day and night was it lately my privilege to 
 spend upon this mountain, accompanied by a poet- 
 friend. We started at a.i early hour, equipped in 
 our brown fustians, and laden with well-filled 
 knapsacks, one with a hatchet in his belt, and the 
 other with a brace of pistols. We were bound to 
 the extreme summit of the peak, where we intended 
 to spend the night, witness the rising of the sun, 
 and return at our leisure on the following day. But 
 when I tell you, that our course lay right up 
 the almost perpendicular side of the mountain, 
 where was no path save that formed by a torrent 
 or a bear, you will readily believe it was somewhat 
 rare and romantic. But this was what we delighted 
 in ; so we shouted *' Excelsior," and commenced the 
 
 
 r> 
 'A 
 
 1 
 
HUNTER S HOLE. 
 
 5 
 
 ascent. The air was excessively sulti-y, and the 
 very first effort we made, caused the perspiration to 
 start most profusely. Upward, upward was our 
 course ; now climbing through a tangled thicket, 
 or 'under the spray of a cascade, and then again 
 supporting ourselves by the roots of saplings or 
 scrambling under a fallen tree ; now, like the 
 samphire gatherer, scaling a precipice; and then 
 again clambering over a rock, or " shinning" up a 
 hemlock tree, to reach a desired point. 
 , Our first halt was made at a singular spot called 
 Hunter's Hole, which is a spacious cavern or pit, 
 forty feet deep and twenty wide, and approached 
 only by a fissure in the mountain, sufficiently large 
 to admit a man. Connected with this place, is the 
 following story. 
 
 Many years ago, a farmer, residing at the foot of 
 the mountain, having missed a favourite dog, and 
 being anxious for his safety, called together his 
 neighbours and offered a reward for the safe return 
 of his canine friend. Always ready to do a kind 
 deed, a number of them started in different direc- 
 tions for the hunt. A barking sound having 
 been heard to issue from this cavern, it discovered 
 that the lost dog was at the bottom, where he had 
 most probably fallen while chasing a fox. " But 
 how shall he be extricated from this hole ?" was the 
 
^ 
 
 6 
 
 BEAR BANK. 
 
 i 
 
 11 
 
 \M 
 
 W ! 
 
 ! ;' i 
 
 general enquiry of the now-assembled hunters. Not 
 one of all the group would venture to descend 
 under any circumstances ; so that the poor animal 
 remained a prisoner for another night. But the 
 next morning he was released, and by none other 
 than a brave boy, the son of the farmer, and play- 
 mate of the dog. A large number of men were 
 present on the occasion. A strong rope was tied 
 around the body of the child, and he was gently 
 lowered down. On reaching the bottom, and 
 finding by the aid of his lamp, that he was in a 
 " real nice place," the little rogue concluded to 
 have some sport ; whereupon he proceeded to pull 
 down more rope, until he had made a coil of two 
 hundred feet, which was bewildering enough to the 
 crowd above ; but nothing happened to him during 
 the adventure, and the dog was rescued. The 
 young hero having played his trick so well, it was 
 generally supposed, for a long time after, that this 
 cavern was two hundred feet deep, and none were 
 ever found sufficiently bold to enter in, even after a 
 fox. The bravery of the boy, however, was even- 
 tually the cause of his death, for he was cut down 
 by a leaden ball in the war of 1812. 
 
 The next remarkable place that we attained in 
 ascending South Peak, was the Bear Bank, where, 
 in the depth of winter may be found an abundance 
 
A THUNDER-STORM. 
 
 rs. Not 
 descend 
 * animal 
 But the 
 e other 
 d play- 
 in were 
 ms tied 
 
 gently 
 n^ and 
 vas in a 
 ided to 
 to pull 
 
 of two 
 1 to the 
 
 during 
 
 The 
 
 , it was 
 
 hat this 
 
 le were 
 
 after a 
 IS even- 
 Lt down 
 
 ned in 
 
 where, 
 
 indance 
 
 of these charming creatures. It is said, that they 
 have often been seen sunning themselves, even from 
 the hills east of the Hudson. We were now under 
 a beetling precipice, three hundred feet high, and 
 there, under the shadow of a huge pine, we enjoyed 
 a slice of bread and pork, with a few drops of the 
 genuine mountain dew. 
 
 Instead of a dessert of strawberries and cream, 
 however, we were furnished, by venerable dame 
 Nature, with a thunder-storm. It was one that we 
 had noticed making a great commotion in the valley 
 below. It had probably discovered two bipeds 
 going towards its home, the sky, and seemed to 
 have pursued us with a view of frightening us back 
 again. But " knowing that nature never did betray 
 the heart that loved her,'^ we awaited the thunder- 
 storm's reply to our obstinate refusal to descend. 
 The cloud was yet below us, but its unseen herald, 
 a strong east wind, told us that the conflict had 
 commenced. Presently a peal of thunder resounded 
 through the vast profound, which caused the moun- 
 tain to tremble to its deep foundation. And then 
 followed another, and another, as the storm 
 increased, and the rain and hail poured down in 
 floods. 
 
 Thinking it safer to expose ourselves to the storm 
 than remain under the pine, we retreated without 
 delay, when we were suddenly enveloped in the 
 
n 
 
 8 
 
 eagle's nest. 
 
 I F 
 
 •i- 
 
 r' 
 1 1 
 
 ■>■ 
 ■I 
 
 "\ 
 
 t 
 
 i) 
 
 I 
 
 ■i 
 
 11 fi 
 
 !<l 
 
 1' : 
 
 !l 
 
 
 heart of the cloud, only a few roda distant ; then, 
 a stroke of lightning blinded us, and the towering 
 forest monarch was smitten to the earth. We were 
 in the midst of an unwritten epic poem about that 
 time, but we could not appreciate its beauties, for 
 another i)eal of thunder, and another stroke of 
 lightning attracted our whole attention. Soon as 
 these had passed, a terrible gale followed in their 
 wake, tumbling down piles of loose rocks, and 
 bending to the dust, as if in passion, the resisting 
 forms of an army of trees ; and afterwards a glorious 
 rainbow spanned the mountain, appearing like 
 those distinguishing circles around the temples of 
 th-i mighty and holy, as portrayed by the painters 
 of old. The commotion lasted for one hour, when 
 the region of the Bear Bank became as serene as 
 the slumber of a babe. A spirit of silent prayer 
 was brooding upon the earth and in the air ; and 
 with a shadow of thoughtfulness at our hearts, we 
 resumed our upward march. 
 
 Our next halting place was upon a sort of 
 peninsula, called the Eagle's Nest, where, it is said, 
 an Indian child was formerly carried by one of those 
 birds, and cruelly destroyed, and whence the frantic 
 mother, with the mangled body of her babe, leaped 
 into the terrible abyss below. From this point, we 
 discovered a host of clouds assembled in council 
 above High Peak, as if discussing th^ parched 
 
'^ 
 
 RATTLESNAKE LEUGE. 
 
 9 
 
 :; then, 
 owering 
 f^e were 
 )ut that 
 ;ic8, for 
 roke of 
 Soon as 
 n their 
 
 , and 
 esiating 
 glorious 
 like 
 iples of 
 )ainters 
 , when 
 rene as 
 
 prayer 
 ir; and 
 rts, we 
 
 sort of 
 is said, 
 if those 
 frantic 
 leaped 
 int, we 
 council 
 arched 
 
 
 condition of the earth, and the speediest mode of 
 affording relief to a still greater extent than they 
 had done ; and far away to the west, was another 
 assembly of clouds, vicing like sportive children, to 
 outrun and ovtrl'^ap each other in their aerial 
 amphitiH^atre. 
 
 After this// we sunnoiinted another point called 
 Rattlesnake Ledge. Here the rocks were literally 
 covered with the white bones of those re})tiles, 
 slaughtered by the hunter in by-gone years, and 
 we happened to see a pair of them that were alive. 
 One was about four feet long, and the other, which 
 was only about half as large, seemed to be tht^ 
 offspring of the old one, for, when discovered, they 
 were playing together like an affectionate mother 
 with her tender child. Soon as we appeared in 
 their presence, the serpents immediately ceased their 
 sports, and in the twinkling of an eye they coiled 
 themselves in the attitude of battle. The conflict 
 was of short duration, and to know the result you 
 need only look into my cabinet of curiosities. 
 
 Higher yet was it our lot to climb. We went 
 a little out of our course to obtain a bird's-eye view 
 of a mountain lake. In its tranquil bosom the 
 glowing evening sky and mountain sides were 
 vividly reflected, and the silence surrounding it 
 was so profound, that we could almost hear the 
 
 B 3 
 
10 
 
 SOUTH PEAK. 
 
 '! 
 
 t! 
 
 \H 
 
 ripples made by a solitary duck^ as it swam from 
 one shore to the other in its utter loneliness. 
 Very beautiful, indeed, was this picture; and as 
 I reflected upon it, I thought that, as the Infant 
 of Bethlehem was tenderly protected by the parents 
 who watched over its slumbers, so was this exquisite 
 lake cradled and protected in the lap of the 
 mountains. 
 
 One sight more did we behold before reaching 
 the summit of South Peak. It was the sunset 
 hoiu*, and on a jutting cliffy, which commanded 
 an immense view, our eyes were delighted by the 
 sight of a deer, standing still, and looking down 
 upon th*^ silent void below, which was then covered 
 with t .eep purple atmosphere, causing the prospect 
 to resemble the boundless ocean. It was the last of 
 its race, we could not but fancy, bidding the human 
 world good night, previous to seeking its heathery 
 couch in a nameless ravine. 
 
 One effort more, and the long-desired eminence 
 was attained; and we were a little nearer the 
 evening star than we had ever been before. It 
 was now the hour of twilight, and as we were about 
 done over with fatigue, it was not long before we 
 had pitched our leafy tent, eaten some supper, 
 and yielded ourselves to the embrace of sleep, 
 
 " Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health/' 
 
■^ 
 
 MIDNIGHT ON THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 11 
 
 (n from 
 leliness. 
 and as 
 Infant 
 parents 
 squisite 
 of the 
 
 eaching 
 
 sunset 
 
 manded 
 
 by the 
 
 5 down 
 
 covered 
 
 >rospect 
 
 J last of 
 
 human 
 
 eathery 
 
 linence 
 'er the 
 re. It 
 e about 
 ore we 
 supper, 
 
 At midnight, a cooling breath of air having 
 passed across my face, I was awakened from a 
 fearful dream, which left me in a nervous and 
 excited state of mind. A strange and solemn gloom 
 had taken possession of my spirit, which was greatly 
 enhanced by the doleful song of a neighbouring 
 hemlock grove. Our encampment having been 
 made a little below the summit of the Peak, and 
 feeling anxious to behold the prospect at that hour 
 from that point, I awakened my companion, and 
 we seated ourselves upon the topmost rock, which 
 was nearly bare of shrubs, but covered with a rich 
 moss, softer and more beautiful than the finest 
 carpet. 
 
 But how can I describe the scene that burst upon 
 our enraptured vision. It was unlike anything I 
 had ever seen before, creating a lone, lost feeling, 
 which I supposed could only be realized by a 
 wanderer in an uninhabited wilderness, or on the 
 ocean, a thousand leagues from home. Above, 
 around, and beneath us — ay, far beneath us — were 
 the cold, bright stars, and to the eastward, the 
 "young moon with the old moon in her arms." 
 In the west were floating a little band of pearly 
 clouds, which I almost fancied to be winged 
 chariots, and that they were crowded with children, 
 the absent and loved of other years, who, in a frolic 
 
'^W. 
 
 12 
 
 SUNRISE. 
 
 U. 
 
 of blissful joy, were out upon the fields of heaven. 
 On one side of us reposed the long, broad valley of 
 the Hudson, with its cities, towns, villages, woods, 
 hills, and plains, whose crowded highway was 
 diminished to a narrow girdle of deep blue. To- 
 wards the south, hill beyond hill, field beyond field, 
 receded to the sky, occasionally enlivened by a 
 peaceful lake. On our right, a multitudinous array 
 of rugged mountains lay piled up, apparently as 
 impassable as the bottomless gulf. To the north, 
 Old High Peak, king of the Catskills, bared his 
 bosom to the moonlight, as if demanding and 
 expecting the homage of the world. Strange and 
 magnificent, indeed, was the prospect from that 
 mountain watch-tower ; and it was with reluctance 
 that we turned away, as in duty bound, to slumber 
 until the dawn. 
 
 The dawn ! And now for a sunrise picture 
 among the mountains, with all the illusive per- 
 formances of the mists and clouds. He comes ! 
 he comes ! the " king of the bright days !" 
 
 Now the crimson and golden clouds are parting, 
 and he bursts on the bewildered sight. One 
 moment more, and the whole earth rejoices in 
 his beams, falling alike, as they do, upon the prince 
 and the peasant of every land. And now, on either 
 side and beneath the sun, an array of new-born 
 
SUNRISE. 
 
 13 
 
 heaven, 
 alley of 
 woods, 
 ly was 
 e. To- 
 ld field, 
 i by a 
 us array 
 ntly as 
 ; north, 
 ired his 
 ng and 
 age and 
 )m that 
 luctance 
 slumber 
 
 picture 
 
 ive per- 
 
 comes ! 
 
 parting, 
 . One 
 )ices in 
 le prince 
 )n either 
 lew-born 
 
 clouds are gathering, like a band of cavaliers, 
 preparing to accompany their leader on a journey. 
 Out of the Atlantic have they just arisen ; at noon 
 they will have pitched their tents on the cerulean 
 plains of heaven ; and when the hours of day 
 are numbered, the far-off waters of the Pacific will 
 again receive them in its cool embrace. 
 
 Listen ! was not that the roar of waves ? Naught 
 but the report of thunder in the valley below. Are 
 not the two oceans coming together ? See ! we are 
 on a rock, in the midst of an illimitable sea, and the 
 tide is surely rising — rising rapidly ! Strange ! it is 
 still as death, and yet the oceans are covered with 
 billows. Lo ! the naked masts of a ship, stranded 
 on a lee-shore ; and yonder, as if a reef were hidden 
 there to impede their course, the waves are strug- 
 gling in despair, now leaping to the sky, and now 
 plunging into a deep abyss ! And when they have 
 passed the unseen enemy, how rapid and beautiful 
 are their various evolutions, as they hasten to the 
 more distant shore. 
 
 Another look, and what a change ! The mists 
 of morning are being exhaled by the risen sun ; 
 already the world of waters is dispersed, and in 
 the valley of the Hudson, far far away, are reposing 
 all the enchanting features of the green earth. 
 
 We descended the mountain by a circuitous 
 
u-t. 
 
 t; ! 
 
 y 
 
 i. 
 
 P 
 
 '1 
 
 ill k 
 
 I 
 
 |- 
 
 'I 
 
 i! 
 
 U 
 
 FLAUTERKILL CLOVE. 
 
 route, that we might enjoy the luxury of passing 
 through Plauterkill Ciove. The same spring that 
 gives rise to Schoharie Creek, which is the principal 
 tributary of the Mohawk, also gives rise to the 
 Plauterkill. In its very infancy it begins to leap 
 and laugh with the gladness of a boy. From its 
 source to the plain, the distance is only two miles, 
 and yet it has a fall of twenty-five hundred feet ; 
 but the remainder of its course, until it reaches 
 the Esopus, is calm and picturesque ; and on every 
 side, and at every turn, may be seen the farm-houses 
 of a sturdy yeomanry. 
 
 The wild gorge, or dell, through which it passes, 
 abounds in waterfalls of surpassmg beauty, varying 
 from ten to a hundred feet in height, whose rocks 
 are green with the moss of centuries, and whose 
 brows are ever wreathed with the most exquisite 
 of vines and flowers. Here is the Double Leap, 
 with its almost fathomless pool, containing a hermit 
 trout, that has laughed at the angler's skill for a 
 score of years ; the Fall of the Mountain Spirit, 
 haunted, as it is said, by the disembodied spirit of 
 an Indian girl, who lost her life here, while pursuing 
 a phantom of the brain ; and here is the Blue Bell 
 Fall, for ever guarded by a multitudinous array 
 of those charming flowers. Caverns, too, and 
 chasms are here, dark, deep, chilly, and damp. 
 
PETER HUMMEL. 
 
 15 
 
 passing 
 ing that 
 )rincipal 
 
 to the 
 
 to leap 
 i'rom its 
 o miles, 
 ed feet ; 
 
 reaches 
 m every 
 i-houscs 
 
 t passes, 
 varying 
 se rocks 
 i whose 
 xquisite 
 
 Leap, 
 . hermit 
 ill for a 
 
 Spirit, 
 spirit of 
 ursuing 
 lue Bell 
 s array 
 30, and. 
 
 damp. 
 
 / 
 
 where the toad, the lizard, and snake, and strange 
 families of insects, are perpetually multiplying, and 
 actually seeming to enjoy their loathsome lives ; and 
 here is the Black Chasm and the Devil's Chamber, 
 the latter with perpendicular walls, twice the height 
 of Old Trinity, and with a wainscoting of pines and 
 hemlocks, which have " braved a thousand years the 
 battle and the breeze/' Plauterkill Clove is an eddy 
 of the great and tumultuous world, and in itself 
 a world of unwritten poetry, whose primitive loveli- 
 liness has not yet been disfigured by the influence 
 of Mammon. It has been consecrated by a brother- 
 hood of fr'ends, well tried and true, to the pure 
 religion of nature; and after spending a summer 
 day therein, and then emerging under the open sky, 
 their feelings are always allied to those of a pilgrim 
 in a strange land, passing through the dreamy 
 twilight of an old cathedral. 
 
 But it is time that I should change my tune, 
 as I desire to record a few fishing adventure , which 
 I have lately experienced among the atskills. 
 My first excursion was performed along the margin 
 of Sweetwater Brook, which flows out of the lake 
 already mentioned. ' My guide and companion was 
 a notorious hunter of this region, named Peter Hum- 
 mel, whose services I have engaged for all my future 
 rambles among the mountains. He is decidedly 
 
16 
 
 PETER HUMMEL. 
 
 lil 
 
 one of the wildest and rarest characters I have ever 
 known, and would be a valuable acquisition to a 
 menagerie. He was born in a little hut, at the foot 
 of South Peak, is twenty-seven years of age, and 
 has never been to school a day in his life, or, in his 
 travels towards civilization, further away from home 
 than fifteen miles. He was educated for a bark- 
 gatherer, his father and several brothers having 
 always been in the business ; but Peter is averse to 
 common-place labour, to anything, in fact, that will 
 bring money. 
 
 When a boy of five years, he had an inkling for 
 the mountains, and once had wandered so far, that 
 he was found by his father, in the den of an old 
 bear, playing with her cubs. To tramp among 
 the mountains, with gun and dog, is Peter's chief 
 and only happiness. He is probably one of the 
 best specimens of a hunter now living ; and very 
 few, I fancy, could have survived the dangers to 
 which he has exposed himself. As to his consti- 
 tution, he seems to be one of those iron mortals, 
 who never die with age and infirmity, but who 
 generally meet with a sudden death, as if to recom- 
 pense them for their heedlessness. But with all 
 his wildness and recklessness, Peter Hummel is as 
 amiable and kind-hearted a man as ever breathed. 
 He is an original wit, withal, ar.*i shrewd and very 
 
 VN' 
 
 }i^' 
 
TROUT FISHING. 
 
 17 
 
 lave ever 
 ion to a 
 
 the foot 
 age, and 
 r, in his 
 )m home 
 
 a bark- 
 i having 
 iverse to 
 that will 
 
 kling for 
 
 far, that 
 
 )f an old 
 
 p among 
 's chief 
 le of the 
 md very 
 mgers to 
 s consti- 
 
 mortals, 
 but who 
 ;o recom- 
 
 with all 
 imel is as 
 breathed. 
 
 and very 
 
 laughable are many of his speeches ; and his stories 
 are the cream of romance and genuine mountain 
 poetry. 
 
 But to my story. As usual, we started on our 
 tramp at an early hour, he with a trout-basket in 
 his hand, containing our dinner, and I with my 
 sketch-book and a "pilgrim staff.'' After a tire- 
 some ascent of three hours, up a mountain path, 
 over ledges arid through gloomy ravines, we at last 
 reached the wished-for brook. All the day long 
 were we cheered by its happy song, as we descended, 
 now leaping from one deep pool to another, and 
 now scrambhng over green-coated rocks, under and 
 around fallen frees, and along the damp, slippery 
 sides of the mountain, until we reached its mouth 
 on a plain, watered by a charming river, and 
 sprinkled with the rustic residences of the Dutch 
 yeomanry. We were at home by sunset, having 
 walked the distance of twenty miles, and captured 
 (me hundred and fifty trout, the most of which 
 we distributed among the farm-houses in our way, 
 as we ijeturned. The trout were small, varying 
 from three to eight ounces in weight, and of a, 
 dark brown colour. 
 
 On another occasion, I had taken my sketch- 
 book and some fishing-tackle, and gone up a 
 mountain road to the banks of Schoharie Creek, 
 
18 
 
 TROUT FISHING. 
 
 nominally for the purpose of sketching a few trees. 
 In the very first hole of the stream into which 
 I accidentally peered, I discovered a large trout 
 lying near the bottom, just above a little bed of 
 sand, whence rose the bubbles of a spring. For 
 some thirty minutes I watched the fellow with a 
 " yearning tenderness ;*' but as he appeared to be 
 so very happy, and I was in a kindred mood, I 
 thought that I would let him live. Presently, 
 however, a beautiful fly lighted on the water, which 
 the greedy hermit swallowed in a minute, and 
 returned to his cool bed with his conscience, as 
 I fancied, not one whit troubled by what he had 
 done. Involuntarily I began to unwind my line ; 
 and having cut a pole, and repeated to myself some- 
 thing about "diamond cut diamond,'' I whipped 
 on a red hackle and passed it over the pool. 
 The rogue of a trout, however, saw me, and scorned 
 for awhile to heed my lure. But I coaxed and 
 coaxed, until at last he darted for it, apparently 
 out of mere spite. Something similar to a miniature 
 watf r-spout immediately arose, and the monarch 
 of the brook was in a fair way of sharing the same 
 fate which had befallen the innocent fly. I learned 
 a salutary lesson from this incident, and as I had 
 yielded to the temptation of the brook, I shouldered 
 my sketch-book and descended the stream. At 
 
 S?^*' 
 
STONY CLOVE. 
 
 19 
 
 few trees, 
 to which 
 rge trout 
 le bed of 
 ng. For 
 w with a 
 •ed to be 
 mood, 1 
 'resently, 
 er, which 
 ute, and . 
 ience, as 
 t he had 
 ny line ; 
 elf some- 
 whipped 
 be pool. 
 . scorned 
 xed and 
 •parently 
 ainiature 
 monarch 
 he same 
 learned 
 as I had 
 ouldered 
 
 (*ii 
 
 m. 
 
 At 
 
 noon I reached a farm-house, where I craved some- 
 thing to eat. A good dinner was given me, which 
 was seasoned by many questions, and some infor- 
 mation, concerning trout. That afternoon, in company 
 with a little boy, I visited a neighbouring stream, 
 called the Roaring Kill, where I caught one hundred 
 and sixty fish. I then returned to the farm-house, 
 and spent the evening in conversation with my new 
 acquaintances. After breakfast, on the following 
 morning, I set out for home, and reached there 
 about noon, having made only two additions to my 
 sketches. Long shall I remember the evening 
 spent with this family, and their hospitality towards 
 an entire stranger. A pleasant family was that 
 night added to my list of friends. 
 
 Another of my trouting pilgrimages was to a 
 famous place, called Stony Clove, among the moun- 
 tains of Shaudaken. It is a deep perpendicular 
 cut, or gorge, between two mountains, two thousand 
 feet in depth, from twenty feet to four hundred 
 in width, and completely lined, from base to 
 summit, with luxuriant vegetation. It is watered 
 by a narrow but deep brook, which is so full of 
 trout, that some seven hundred were captured by 
 myself and two others in a single day. When I 
 tell you that this spot is only about one hundred 
 miles from New York, you will be surprised to 
 
:'! ' I* 
 
 
 '!■ 
 
 
 20 
 
 KAUTERSKILL FALL. 
 
 learn, that in its immediate vicinity we saw no 
 less than two bears, one doe with two fawns, and 
 other valuable game. 
 
 In some parts of this Clove the sunshine never 
 enters, and whole tons of the purest ice may be 
 found there throughout the year. It is, indeed, 
 a most lonely and desolate corner of the world, 
 and might be considered a fitting type of the 
 Valley of the Shadow of Death; in single file 
 did we have to pass through it, and in single file do 
 the sons of men pass into the grave. To spend one 
 day there, we had to encamp two nights ; and how 
 we generally manage that affair I will mention 
 presently. 
 
 In returning from Stony Clove, we took a cir- 
 cuitous route, and visited the Mountain House. 
 We approached it by the way of the celebrated 
 Kauterskill Fall, which 1 will describe to you in 
 the graphic language of Cooper, as you may not 
 remember the passage in his " Pioneer." " Why 
 there's a fall in the hills, where the water of two 
 little ponds, that lie near each other, breaks out of 
 their bounds, and runs over the rocks into the 
 valley. The stream is, may be, such a one as would 
 turn a mill, if so useless a thing was wanted in the 
 wilderness. But the Hand that made that 'Leap' 
 never made a mill ! There the water comes croaking 
 
 
 m 
 
 •i 
 
 M 
 
saw no 
 wns, and 
 
 ine never 
 may be 
 indeed, 
 e world, 
 of the 
 nglc file 
 le file do 
 iend one 
 and how 
 mention 
 
 [)k a cir- 
 i House, 
 elebrated 
 ) you in 
 may not 
 " Why 
 r of two 
 cs out of 
 into the 
 as would 
 ;d in the 
 f 'Leap' 
 croaking 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN HOUSE. 
 
 21 
 
 
 and winding among the rocks, first so slow that 
 a trout might swim in it, and then starting and 
 running, just like any creature that wanted to make 
 a fair spring, till it gets to where the mountain 
 divides, like the cleft foot of a deer, leaving a deej) 
 hollow for the brook to tumble into. The first 
 pitch is nigh two hundred feet, and the water looks 
 like flakes of snow afore it touches the bottom, and 
 then gathers itself together again for a new start, 
 and, may be, flutters over fifty feet of flat rock, 
 before it falls for another hundred, where it jumps 
 from shelf to shelf, first running this way and that 
 way, striving to get out of the hollow, till it finally 
 comes to the plain.'' 
 
 Our party, on this occasion, consisted of three, 
 Peter Hummel, a bark-gatherer, and myself. I had 
 chosen these fellows for the expedition, because of 
 their friendship for me and their willingness to go, 
 and I resolved to give them a "treat" at the 
 " Grand Hotel," which the natives of this region 
 look upon as a kind of paradise. The reader is 
 no doubt aware, that the Mountain House is an 
 establishment vicing in its style of accommodation 
 with the best of hotels. 
 
 Between it and the Hudson there is, during 
 the summer, a semi-daily line of stages; and it 
 
 s 
 
 is the transient resort of thousands, who visit 
 
 *'^ 1 JHBfr 
 
 it for the novelty of its situation, as well as for 
 
 J 
 
 ft . - : 
 
i ■ 
 
 ;.. 
 
 
 I? 
 
 i 
 
 f I I 
 
 !lt 
 
 I ■; 1 : - i 
 
 22 
 
 LAUGHABLE SCENE. 
 
 the surrounding scenery. The edifice itself stands 
 on a cliff, within a few feet of the edge, and 
 commands a prospect extending from Long Island 
 Sound to the White Mountains. The first time I 
 visited the spot, I spent half the night at my bed-room 
 window, watching the fantastic performances of a 
 thunder-storm far below me, which made the build- 
 ing tremble like a ship upon a reef, while the sky 
 above was cloudless, and studded with stars. Be- 
 tween this spot and South Peak, " there's the High 
 Peak and the Round Top which lay back, like a 
 father and mother among their children, seeing 
 they are far above all the other hills.'' 
 
 But to proceed. Coarsely and comically dressed 
 as we were, we made a veiy unique appearance 
 as we paraded into the office of the hotel. I met a 
 few acquaintances there, to whom I introduced my 
 comrades ; and in a short time each one was spin- 
 ning a mountain legend to a crowd of delighted 
 listeners. In due time, I ushered them into the 
 dining-hall, where a scene was enacted which can be 
 better imagined than described; the fellows were 
 completely out of their element, and it was laughable 
 in the extreme to see them stare, and hear them 
 talk, as the servants bountifully helped them to the 
 turtle-soup, ice-cream, charlotte-russe, and other 
 fashionable dainties. 
 
 About the middle of the afternoon we commenced 
 
A GROTESQUE GROUP. 
 
 23 
 
 clf stands 
 tlge, and 
 ng Island 
 rst time I 
 bed-room 
 nces of a 
 the build- 
 thc sky 
 ars. Be- 
 the High 
 ;k, like a 
 n, seeing 
 
 ly dressed 
 ppearance 
 I met a 
 iuced my 
 was spin- 
 delighted 
 into the 
 ch can be 
 ows were 
 laughable 
 lear them 
 em to the 
 ad other 
 
 mmenced 
 
 '4 
 
 desjen»ling the beautiful mountain road leading 
 towards the Hudson. In the morning there had 
 been a heavy shower, and a thousand happy rills 
 attended us with a song. A delightful nook on this 
 road is pointed out as the identical spot where 
 Rip Van "Winkle slept away a score of his life. I 
 reached home in time to spend the twilight hour in 
 my own room, musing upon the much-loved moun- 
 tains. I had but one comj)anion, and that was 
 a whii)-poor-will, which nightly comes to my 
 window-sill, as if to tell me a tale of its love, or of 
 the woods and solitary wilderness. 
 
 But the most unique and interesting of my 
 fishing adventures remains to be described. I had 
 heard a great deal about the good fishing afforded 
 by the lake already mentioned, and I desired to 
 visit it, and spend a night upon its shore. Having 
 spoken to my friend Hummel, and invited a neigh- 
 bour to accompany us, whom the people have named 
 '' White Yankee,* the noontide hour of a pleasant 
 day found us on our winding march ; and such 
 a grotesque appearance as we made, was exceedingly 
 amusing. The group was mostly animated when 
 climbing the steep and rocky ravines which we were 
 compelled to pass through. There was Peter, " long, 
 lank and lean,'' and wild in his attire and countenance 
 as an eagle of the wilderness, with an axe in his hand, 
 
1 
 
 1 
 i 
 
 1 i 
 
 '■!> 
 
 ';|i : 
 
 
 I'll 
 
 t i; 
 
 
 p! 
 
 t It. 
 
 1 ; 
 
 ll'JH 
 
 i 
 
 rlH^ 
 
 i i 
 
 liiH 
 
 ii 
 
 f . qnltl 
 
 !i yP 
 
 '!$■! 
 
 .'I 1 
 
 MO 
 
 2i 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN LAKE. 
 
 and a huge knapsack on his back, containing our 
 provisions and utensils for cooking. Next to him 
 followed White Yankee, with three blankets lashed 
 upon his back, a slouched white hat on his head, 
 and nearly a half pound of tobacco in his mouth. 
 Crooked legged withal, and somewhat sickly was 
 this individual, and being wholly unaccustomed to 
 this kind of business, he went along groaning, 
 grunting, and fuming, as if he was. " sent for, and 
 didn't want to come." In the rear trotted along 
 your humble friend, with a gun upon his shoulder, a 
 powder-horn and shot-pouch at his side, cow-hide 
 boots on his feet, and a cap on his head — ^his beard 
 half an inch long, and his flowing hair streaming in 
 the wind. 
 
 We reached our place of destination about five 
 o'clock, and halted under a large impending rock, 
 which was to be our sleeping place. We were 
 emphatically under the "shadow of a rock, in a 
 weary land." Our first business was to build a fire, 
 which we did with about one cord of green and dry 
 wood. Eighty poles were then cut, to which we 
 fastened our lines. The old canoe in the lake was 
 bailed out, and having baited our hooks with the 
 minnows we had brought with us, we planted the 
 poles in about seven feet water, all around the lake 
 shore. We then prepared and ate our supper, and 
 
 
STRANGE BED-FELLOWS. 
 
 25 
 
 aining our 
 ext to him 
 kets lashed 
 L his head^ 
 his mouth, 
 sickly was 
 ustomed to 
 groaning, 
 nt for, and 
 tted along 
 shoulder, a 
 !, cow-hide 
 —his beard 
 reaming in 
 
 about five 
 ding rock. 
 We were 
 'ock, in a 
 uild a fire, 
 n and dry 
 which we 
 e lake was 
 
 with the 
 anted the 
 
 the lake 
 pper, and 
 
 awaited the coming on of night. During this 
 interval, I learned the following particulars concern- 
 ing the lake. It was originally discovered by a 
 hunter, named Shew. It is estimated to cover 
 about fifty acres, and in the centre, to be more than 
 two hundred feet in depth. For my part, however, 
 I do not believe it contains over five acres, though 
 the mountains which tower on every side but one, 
 are calculated to deceive the eye; but, as to its 
 depth, I could easily fancy it to be bottomless, for 
 the water is remarkab/y dark. To the number of 
 rout in this lake there seems to be no end. It is 
 tupposed they reach it, when small, through Sweet- 
 water Brook, when they increase in size, and 
 multiply. It also abounds in green and scarlet 
 lizards, which are a serious drawback to the plea- 
 sures of the fastidious angler. I asked Peter many 
 uestions concerning his adventures about the lake, 
 nd he told me that the number of "harmless 
 urders" he had committed here was about three 
 undred. In one day, he shot three deer; at 
 .nother time, a dozen turkeys ; at another, twenty 
 ucks ; one night, an old bear ; and again, half a 
 ozen coons; and, on one occasion, annihilated a 
 en of thirty-seven rattlesnakes. 
 
 At nine o^ clock, we lighted a torch and went to 
 xamine our lines ; and it was my good fortune to 
 
r '; 
 
 I :;!' 
 
 li ■! 
 
 II 
 
 il ' ■ , 
 
 26 
 
 FANCIFUL DREAMS. 
 
 haul out not less than forty-one trout, weighing 
 from one to two pounds a-piece. These, we put 
 into a spring of very cold water, which bubbled 
 from the earth a few paces from our camping place, 
 and then retired to repose. Branches of hemlock 
 constituted our couch, and my station was between 
 Peter and White Yankee. Little did I dream, 
 when I first saw these two bipeds, that I should 
 ever have them for my bed-fellows ; but who can 
 tell what shall be on the morrow ? My friends were 
 in the land of Nod in less than a dozen minutes 
 after we had retired ; but it was hard for me to go 
 to sleep in the midst of the wild scene which sur- 
 rounded me. There I lay, flat on my back, a stone 
 and my cap for a pillow, and wrapt in a blanket, 
 with my nose exposed to the chilly night air. And 
 what pictures did my fancy conjure up, as I looked 
 upon the army of trunks around me, glistening in 
 the fire-light ! One moment they were a troop of 
 Indians from the spirit-land, come to revisit again 
 the hunting grounds of their fathers, and weeping 
 because the white man had desecrated their soil ; 
 and again, I fancied them to be a congress of wild 
 animals, assembled to try, execute, and devour us, 
 for the depredations our fellows had committed 
 upon their kind during the last one hundred years. 
 By and by, a star peered upon me from between the 
 
A MOONLIGHT SKETCH. 
 
 27 
 
 , weighing 
 se, we put 
 h bubbled 
 ping place, 
 >f hemlock 
 as between 
 I dream, 
 .t I should 
 t who can 
 •iends were 
 in minutes 
 ir me to go 
 which sur- 
 ck, a stone 
 a blanket, 
 air. And 
 ,s I looked 
 istening in 
 a troop of 
 visit again 
 d weeping 
 their soil; 
 ess of wild 
 devour us, 
 committed 
 red years, 
 etween the 
 
 branches of a tree, and my thoughts ascended 
 heavenward. And now, my eyes twinkled and 
 [blinked in sympathy with the star, and I was a 
 dreamer. 
 
 An hour after the witching time of night, I was 
 itartled from my sleep by a bellowing halloo from 
 Peter, who said it was time to examine the lines 
 again. Had you heard the echoes which were then 
 awakened, far and near, you would have thought 
 yourself in enchanted land. But there were living 
 answers to that shout, for a frightened fox began to 
 bark, an owl commenced its horrible hootings, a 
 partridge its drumming, and a wolf its howl. 
 There was not a breeze stirring, and 
 
 " Nought was seen, in the vault on high, 
 But the moon, and the stars, and a cloudless sky. 
 And a river of white in the welkin blue." 
 
 ■,■•■■■ - - .- 1.* ■ 
 
 Peter and Yankee went out to haul in the trout, 
 but I remained on shore to attempt a drawing, by 
 moonlight, of the lake before me. The opposite side 
 of the mountain, with its dark tangled forest, was 
 perfectly mirrored in the waters below, the whole 
 seeming as solid and variegated as a tablet of Egyp- 
 tian marble. The canoe with its inmates noiselessly 
 pursued its way, making the stillness more profound. 
 In the water at my feet I distinctly saw lizards 
 
 c 2 
 
28 
 
 A NIGHT OP ACCIDENTS. 
 
 lii I 1! 
 
 ■I, <8 
 
 ! 'i 
 
 "ii; 
 
 \^ 
 
 sporting about^ and I could not but wonder why 
 such reptiles were ever created. I thought, with the 
 Ancient Mariner, ^ 
 
 " A thousand slimy things lived on, 
 And so did I." 
 
 Again did we retire to rest, slumbering until the 
 break of day. We then partook of a substantial 
 trout breakfast, gathered up our plunder, and with 
 about one hundred handsome trout started for 
 home. 
 
 The accidents we met with during the night 
 were harmless, though somewhat ridiculous. A 
 paper of matches, which Peter carried in his 
 breeches' pocket, took fire, and gave him such a 
 scorchmg that he bellowed lustily. White Yankee, 
 in his restless slumber, rolled so near our watch- 
 fire, that he barely escaped with one corner of his 
 blanket, the remainder having been consumed. As 
 for me, I only fell into the water among the lizards, 
 while endeavouring to reach the end of a log, 
 which extended into the lake. In descending the 
 mountain, we shot three partridges, and con- 
 foundedly frightened a fox ; and by the middle of 
 the afternoon, were quietly pursuing our usual 
 avocations among our fellow-men of the lower 
 world. 
 
A SPRING DAY. 
 
 29 
 
 until the 
 
 ubstantial 
 
 and with 
 
 ;a:ted for 
 
 the night 
 
 ilous. A 
 
 I in his 
 
 1 such a 
 
 i Yankee, 
 
 iir watch- 
 
 ler of his 
 
 aed. As 
 
 e lizards, 
 
 f a log, 
 
 ding the 
 
 id con- 
 
 liddle of 
 
 ir usual 
 
 lower 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A Spring Day— The Sky— The Mountains— The Streams— The 
 Woods — The Open Fields — Domestic Animals — Poetry— The 
 Poultry-yard. 
 
 Plauterkill Clove. May. 
 
 May is near its close, and I am still in the valley 
 of the Hudson. Spring is indeed come again, and 
 this, for the present year, has been its day of 
 triumph. The moment I awoke at dawn, this 
 morning, I knew by intuition that it would be so, 
 and I bounded from my couch like a startled deer, 
 impatient for the cool delicious air. Spring is upon 
 the earth once more, and a new life is given me of 
 enjoyment and hope. The year is in its childhood, 
 and my heart clings to it with a sympathy, that I 
 feel must be immortal and divine. What I have 
 done to-day, I cannot tell : I only know that my 
 body has been tremulous with feeling, and my eyes 
 almost blinded with seeing. Every hour has been 
 
I 
 
 )'l! 
 
 I 
 
 H 
 
 
 
 
 30 
 
 THE SKY. 
 
 fraught with a new emotion of delight, and pre- 
 sented to my vision numberless pictures of sur- 
 passing beauty. I have held communion with the 
 sky, the mountains, the streams, the woods, and 
 the fields ; and these, if you please, shall be themes 
 of my present chapter. ' - 
 
 The sky ! It has been of as deep an azure, and as 
 serene, as ever canopied the world. It seemed as if 
 you could look through it, into the illimitable home 
 of the angels — could almos' behold the glory which 
 surrounds the Invisible. Three clouds alone have 
 attracted my attention. One was the offspring of 
 the dawn, and encircled by a rim of gold ; the next 
 was the daughter of noon, and white as the driven 
 snow ; and the last of evening, and robed in deepest 
 crimson. Wayward and coquettish creatures were 
 these clouds ! Their chief ambition seemed to be 
 to display their charms to the best advantage, as if 
 conscious of their loveliness ; and, at sunset, when 
 the light lay pillowed on the mountains, it was a 
 joyous sight to see them, side by side, like three 
 sweet sisters, as they were, going home. Each one 
 was anxious to favour the world with its own last 
 smile, and by their changing places so often, you 
 would have thought they were all unwilling to 
 depart. But they were the ministers of the Sun, 
 and he would not tarry for them ; and, while he. 
 
THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 31 
 
 beckoned them to follow on, the Evening Star took 
 his station in the sky, and bade them depart : and 
 when I looked again, they were gone. Never more, 
 thought I, will those clouds be a source of joy to a 
 human heart. And in this respect, also, they 
 seemed to me to be the emblems of those beautiful 
 but thoughtless maidens, who spend the flower of 
 youth trifling with the affections of all whom they 
 have the power to fascinate. 
 
 The mou:iUins ! In honour of the season which 
 has just clothed them in the richest green, they 
 have this day displayed every one of their varied 
 and interesting charms. At noon, as I lay under 
 the shadow of a tree, watching them " with a look 
 made of all sweet accord,'' my face was freshened 
 by a breeze. It appeared to come from the summit 
 
 • 
 
 of South Peak, and to be the voice of the Catskills 
 I Hstened, and these were the words which echoed 
 through my ear : ^ 
 
 " Of all the seasons, oh. Spring ! thou art the 
 most beloved, and to us, always the most welcome. 
 Joy and gladness ever attend thy coming, for we 
 know that the ' winter is past, the rains are over 
 and gone, the time of the singing of birds is come, 
 and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land.' 
 And we know, too, that from thy hands flow 
 unnumbered blessings. Thou softenest the earth, 
 
 ■i 
 
 
 im 
 
th 
 
 r\ 
 
 . 
 
 i 
 
 m 
 
 if' 
 
 4;;l 
 
 % 
 
 
 .w 
 
 h 
 
 32 
 
 THE STREAMS. 
 
 that the husbandman may sow his seed, which shall 
 yield him a thousand fold at the harvest. Thou 
 releasest the rivers from their icy fetters, that the 
 wings of commerce may be unfurled once more. 
 Thou givest food to the cattle upon a thousand hills, 
 that they, in their turn, may furnish man with 
 necessary food, and also assist him in his domestic 
 labours. Thou coverest the earth with a garniture 
 of freshest loveliness, that the senses of man may be 
 gratified, and his thoughts directed to Him who 
 hath created all things, and pronounced them good. 
 And, finally, thou art the hope of the year, and 
 thine admonitions, which are of the future, have a 
 tendency to emancipate the thoughts of man from 
 this world, and the troubles which may surround 
 him here, and fix them upon that clime where an 
 eternal spring abides." " The voice in my 
 dreaming ear melted away," and I heard the roaring 
 of the streams as they fretted their way down the 
 rocky steeps. 
 
 The streams ! Such " tmmpets" as they have 
 blown to-day, would, I am afraid, have caused Mr. 
 Wordsworth to exclaim : 
 
 " The cataracts — make a devilish noise up yonder.'* 
 
 The fact is, as " all the earth is gay," and all the 
 springs among the mountains are " giving them- 
 
THE WOODS. 
 
 33 
 
 selves up to jollity/' the streams are full to over- 
 flowing, and rush along with a " vindictive 
 looseness/' because of the burden they have to 
 bear. The falls and cascades, which make such 
 exquisite pictures in the summer months, are now 
 fearful to behold, for, in their anger, every now 
 and then they toss some giant tree into an abyss of 
 foam, which makes one tremble with fear. But 
 after the streams have left the mountains, and are 
 running through the bottom-lands, they still appear 
 to be displeased with something, and at every turn 
 they take, delve into the " bowels of the harmless 
 earth," making it dangerous for the angler to 
 approach too near, but rendering the haunt of the 
 trout more spacious and commodious than before. 
 The streams are about the only things I cannot 
 praise to-day, and I hope it will not rain for a 
 month to come, if this is the way they intend to 
 act whenev^er we have a number of delightful 
 showers. 
 
 The woods ! A goodly portion of the day have 
 I spent in one of their most secret recesses. 1 went 
 with Shakspeare imder my arm, but could not 
 read, any more than fly, so I stretched myself at 
 full length on a huge log, and kept a sharp look- 
 out for anything that might send me a waking 
 dream. The brotherhood of trees clustered around 
 
 c 3 
 
 > } 
 
 ii 
 
 m 
 
 1 1 1 
 
84 
 
 THE WOODS. 
 
 i^iX 
 
 h 
 
 m 
 
 i&\ 
 
 V-^-: 
 
 
 me, laden with leaves just bursting into full matu- 
 rity, and possessing that delicate and peculiar 
 green, which lasts but a single day, and never 
 returns. A fitful breeze swept through them, so 
 that ever and anon I fancied a gushing fountain to 
 be near, or that a company of ladies fair were come 
 to visit me, and that I heard the rustle of their 
 silken kirtles. And now my eyes rested on a tree, 
 that was entirely leafless, and almost without a 
 limb. Instead of grass at its foot, was a heap of 
 dry leaves, and not a bush or vine grew anywhere 
 near it, but around its neighbours they grew in 
 great abundance. It seemed branded with a curse, 
 alone, forsaken of its own, and despised by all. 
 Can this, thought I, be an emblem of any human 
 being ? Strange that it should be, but it is never- 
 theless too true. Only one week ago I saw a poor 
 miserable maniac bound hand and foot, driven 
 from " home and all its treasures,'' and carried to a 
 dark, damp prison-house in a neighbouring town. 
 I can be reconciled to the mystery of a poisonous 
 reptile's existence, but it is very hard to under- 
 stand for what good purpose a maniac is created. 
 Another object I noticed, was a little tree about 
 five feet high, completely covered with blossoms of 
 a gaudy hue. At first, I tried to gather some- 
 thing poetical out of this thing, but with all my 
 
THE WOODS. 
 
 35 
 
 t 
 
 i 
 
 endeavours, I could not. It caused me a real 
 hearty laugh as the idea expanded, for it reminded 
 me of a certain maiden lady of my acquaintance, 
 who is old, stunted, very fond of tall men and 
 always strutting round under a weight of jewelry. 
 But oh ! what beautiful flowers did I notice in that 
 shady grove, whose whispering thrilled me with 
 delight ! Their names ? I cannot tell them to 
 you, fair reader ; they ought to have no names, any 
 more than a cloud or a foam-bell on the river. 
 Some were blue, some white, some purple, and 
 some scarlet. There were little parties of them on 
 every side ; and as the wind swayed their delicate 
 stems, I could not but fancy they were living 
 creatures, the personified thoughts perhaps of happy 
 and innocent children. Occasionally, too, I noticed 
 a sort of straggler peeping at me from beside a 
 hillock of moss, or from under the branches of a 
 fallen tree, as if surprised at my temerity in enter- 
 ing its secluded haunt. Birds also were around me 
 in that greenwood sanctuary, singing their hymns 
 of praise to the Father of mercies for the return of 
 spring. The nests of the females being already 
 built, they had nothing to do but be happy, antici- 
 pating the time when they themselves should be the 
 " dealers-out of some small blessings'^ to their 
 helpless broods. As to their mates, they were 
 
 ^»' 
 
 91 
 
36 
 
 THE 0?EN FIELDS. 
 
 
 m 
 
 about as independent, restless and noisy as might 
 be expected, very much as any rational man would 
 be who was the husband of a young and beautiful 
 wife. 
 
 But the open fields to-day have superabounded 
 with pictures to please and instruct the mind. I 
 know not where to begin to describe them. Shall 
 it be at the very threshold of our farm-house ? "Well, 
 then, only look at those lilac trees in the gai'den, 
 actually top-heavy with purple and white flowering 
 pyramids. The old farmer has just cut a number 
 of large branches, and given them to his little 
 daughter to carry to her mother, who will distri- 
 bute them between the mantel-piece, the table, 
 and the fire-place of the family sitting-room. But 
 what ambrosial odour is that which now salutes the 
 senses ? It comes not from the variegated corner 
 of the garden, where the tulip, the violet, the 
 hyacinth, the blue bell, and the lily of the valley 
 are vicing to outstrip each other in their attire j nor, 
 from that clover-covered lawn, besprinkled with 
 butter-cups, strawberry blossoms, and honey- 
 suckles ; but from the orchard, every one of whose 
 trees are completely covered with snow-white 
 blossoms. And from their numberless petals 
 emanates the murmur of bees, as they are busy 
 extracting the luscious honey. : , 
 
THE OPEN FIELDS. 
 
 37 
 
 What an abundance of fruit — of apples, cherries, 
 peaches and pears, do these sweet blossoms promise ! 
 But next week there may be a bitter frost ; and 
 this is the lesson which my heart learns. Now that 
 I am in the spring-time of life, my hopes, in 
 number and beauty, are like the blossoms of trees, 
 and I know not but they may even on the morrow 
 be withered by the chilly breath of the grave. But 
 let us loiter farther on. The western slope of this 
 gentle hill is equally divided, and of two diiFerent 
 shades of green ; one is planted with rye, and the 
 other with wheat. The eastern slope of the hill has 
 lately been loosened by the plough, and is of a 
 sombre colour, but to my eye not less pleasing than 
 the green. And this view is enlivened with figures 
 besides — for a farmer and two boys are planting 
 corn, the latter opening the bed with their hoes, 
 and the former di'opping in the seed (which he 
 carries in a bag slung at his side), and covering it 
 with his foot. And now, fluttering over their heads 
 is a roguish bob-o-link, scolding about something 
 in their wake ; at a respectful distance, and hopping 
 along the ground are a number of robins ; and on 
 the nearest fence a meadow-lark and bluebird are 
 '* holding on for a bite.^' But there is no end to 
 these rural pictures, so I will just take my reader 
 
 f >. 
 
38 
 
 DOMESTIC ANIMALS. 
 
 hi 
 
 into this neighbouring meadow-pasture, thence into 
 the poultry-yard at home, and conckde my present 
 rhapsody. 
 
 Here we are, then, in the midst of vaiious 
 domestic animals. Yonder, a couple of black colts 
 are chasing each other in play, while their venerable 
 mother (for they are brothers, though not twins) is 
 standing a httle way off, watching their antics, and 
 twisting about her ears, as she remembers the 
 happy days of her own colthood. Here are some 
 half dozen hearty cows, lying down and grazing, 
 each one with a " pledge of affection" sporting 
 about her. There are six or eight oxen, eating 
 away as fast as they can, while one, who seems to 
 be a sentinel, occasionally rolls up his eye to see 
 if the farmer is coming to renew his song of " haw ! 
 gee ! gee ! haw !" Under the shadow of that old 
 oak is a flock of sheep, with their lambs bounding 
 beside them, as to the " tabor's sound ;" but to 
 me there comes no " thought of grief* at the 
 sight, wherein I must be suffered to disagree with 
 Wordsworth, to whom I have already alluded once 
 or twice, and whose celebrated and most wonderful 
 Ode has been echoing in my heart all the day long. 
 Some of the lines in it are appropriate to the day, 
 the charms of which I am attempting to make you 
 
POETRY. 
 
 39 
 
 feel, reader, and you will oblige me by reading and 
 inwardly digesting, the following fragments of a 
 whole, and yet really complete poems : — 
 
 " The sunshine is a glorious birth" 
 
 " The winds come to me from the fields of sleep." 
 
 " And the babe leaps up on his mother's arm." 
 
 " Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own." 
 
 ** Full soon thy soul shalt have her earthly freight, 
 And custom lie upon thee with a weight, 
 Heavy as fate, and deep almost as life." 
 
 " joy, that in our embers 
 Is something that doth live, 
 That nature yet remembers 
 What was so fugitive." 
 
 " To me, the meanest flower that blows, can give 
 Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears." 
 
 Strange, that a rational man, after dwelling 
 upon such poetry, should be willing to go into a 
 poultiy-yard. But why not ? I would rather do 
 this willingly than be compelled, as I have been, 
 and may be again, to hear a man say, after reading 
 
 
 i 
 
 ii, 
 
40 
 
 THE POULTRY-YARD. 
 
 to him Wordsworth's gi*eat Ode—" Why I of what 
 use is such stuff ? what does it prove ? will it furnish 
 a man with bread and butter ? will it make the pot 
 boil ?'' The people of the poultry-yard have been 
 in auch glee to-day, and contributed so much to 
 the gladness of the day, that I must pay them a 
 passing tribute. 
 
 In the first place, our old gobbler, with his 
 retinu;i of turkey wives, has been on the point of 
 bursting with pride ever since sunrise. If the 
 Grand Sultan of Turkey (who must be the father of 
 all turkeys) cuts the same kind of capers in the 
 presence of his hundred ladies, Turkey must be a 
 great country for lean people to " laugh and grow 
 fat in.'' Our gobbler is a feathered personification 
 of Jack Falstaff, possessing his prominent trait of 
 cowardice to perfection. I flourished a red hand- 
 kerchief in his face this morning, and, by the way 
 he strutted round and gobbled, you would have 
 thought he was going to devour you. About ten 
 minutes after this, I threw down a handful of corn, 
 which was intended for his particular palate. 
 While he was busy picking it up, a certain cock 
 stepped alongside and commenced picking too : the 
 intruder, having got in the way of the gobbler, was 
 suddenly pushed aside 5 whereupon the gentleman 
 with spius chuckled and " showed fight," but the 
 

 » l"' 'I 
 
 THE POULTRY-YARD. 
 
 41 
 
 gobbler for a moment heeded him not. This the 
 
 cock could not bear, so he pounced upon his enemy, 
 
 and whipped him without mercy, until the coward 
 
 and fool ran away, with his long train of affectionate 
 
 wives following behind. 
 
 The cocks, hens and chickens, which have figured 
 
 in the yard to-day, would more than number a 
 
 hundred, and such cackling, crowing, chuckling, 
 
 and crying as they have made, was anything but 
 
 a " concord of sweet sounds.^' But the creatures 
 
 have been happy, and it was therefore a pleasure to 
 
 look at them. A young hen this morning made her 
 
 first appearance with a large brood of chickens, 
 
 yellow as gold, and this caused quite a sensation 
 
 among the feathered husbands generally. The 
 
 I" 
 mother, as she rambled about, seemed to say by 
 
 her pompous air, to her daughterless friends — 
 
 " ar'nt they beautiful ? don't you wish you had a 
 
 few V* It was also very funny to see with what 
 
 looks of astonishment the youthful cocks surveyed 
 
 these " infant phenomenons." As to our ducks, 
 
 and geese, and guinea hens, they have minded 
 
 their business pretty well — the two former paddhng 
 
 about the creek and mud-puddles, and the latter 
 
 " between meals" roaming at large through the 
 
 orchard and garden, altogether the most beautiful 
 
 and rational of the feathered tribes. 
 
 Hi 
 
 
 11 y 
 
42 
 
 CLOSE OF A SPRING DAY. 
 
 A mountaineer^ wlio is to take this queer record 
 to the post-office, is waiting for me, and I must 
 close, — ^hoping that the country pictures I have 
 endeavoured to sketch may have a tendency to make 
 my reader feel a portion of that joy, which has cha- 
 racterized this delightful Spring Day. 
 
DUTCH DESCENDANTS. 
 
 42 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A corn-planting Bee. 
 
 
 If) 
 
 m 
 If 
 
 Plauterkill Clove. May. 
 
 The people who inhabit that section of country 
 lying between the Catskill Mountains and the 
 Hudson River, are undoubtedly the legitimate 
 descendants of the far-famed Rip Van Winkle. 
 Dutch blood floweth in their veins, and their names, 
 appearance, manners, are all Dutch, and Dutch 
 only. The majority of them are engaged in tilling 
 the soil, and as they seem to be satisfied with a 
 bare competency, the peacefulness of their lives is 
 only equalled by their ignorance of books, and the 
 world at large. The height of their ambition is to 
 enjoy a frolic, and what civilized people understand 
 by that term, they designate a Bee. Not only have 
 they their wedding and funeral Bees, but they com- 
 memorate their agricultural labours mth a Bee, and 
 
 H' 
 
44 
 
 A CORN-PLANTING BEE. 
 
 K 
 
 of these, the Corn-Planting Bee, which I am about 
 to describe, is a fair specimen. 
 
 A certain old Dutchman of my acquaintance had 
 so long neglected the field where he intended to 
 plant his com, that he found it necessary to retrieve 
 his reputation by getting up a Bee. He therefore 
 immediately issued his verbal invitations, and at two 
 o'clock on the appointed day, about seventy of his 
 neighbours, including men and women, made their 
 appearance at his dwelling, each one of them fur- 
 nished with a hoe and a small bag to carry the seed. 
 After supplying his guests with all they wanted in 
 the way of spiritual drink, my friend gave the 
 signal, and shouldering a large hoe started off for 
 the field of action, closely followed by his neigh- 
 bours, who fell to work lustily. The field 
 was large, but as the planters were numerous, it 
 was entirely planted at least two hours before sun- 
 set, when the party was disbanded, with the express 
 understanding resting upon their minds that they 
 should invite their children to the dance, which was 
 to take place in the evening at the Bee-giver's 
 residence. 
 
 The house of my farmer friend having been origi- 
 nally built for a tavern, it happened to contain a 
 large ball-room, and on this occasion it was stripped 
 of its beds and bedding, and the walls thereof 
 
UNIQUE BALL-DRESSES. 
 
 45 
 
 decked from top to bottom with green branches and 
 an occasional tallow candle, and conspicuous at one 
 end of the hall was a refreshment establishment, 
 well supplied with pies, gingerbread, molasses, 
 candy and cigars, with an abundance of coloured 
 alcohols. 
 
 The number of young men and women who came 
 together on the occasion was about one hundred, 
 and while they were trimming themselves for the 
 approaching dance, the musician, a huge, long- 
 legged and bony Dutchman, was tuning a rusty 
 fiddle. The thirty minutes occupied by him in this 
 interesting business were employed by the male 
 portion of the guests in " wetting their whistles." 
 The dresses worn on the occasion were eminently 
 rustic and unique. Those of the gentlemen, for 
 the most part, were made of a coarse grey cloth, 
 similar to that worn by the residci^ts on BlackwelPs 
 Island, while the ladies were arrayed in white 
 cotton, trimmed with a narrow scarlet ribbon. 
 Pumps being out of vogue, cow-hide boots were 
 worn by the former, and calf brogans by the latter. 
 
 All things being now ready, a terribly loud shriek 
 came from the poor little fiddle, and the clattering 
 of heels commenced, shaking the building to its 
 very foundation. " On with the dance, let joy be 
 
 ^1 
 
46 
 
 DESPERATE DANCING. 
 
 unconfined/' seemed to be the motto of all present ; 
 and from the start, there seemed to be a strife 
 between the male and the female dancers, as to who 
 should leap the highest and make the most noise. 
 Desperate were the efforts of the musician, as he 
 toiled away upon his instrument, keeping discord 
 with his heels ; and every unusual wail of the fiddle 
 was the forerunner of a profuse perspiration, which 
 came rolling off of the fiddler's face to the floor. 
 And then the joyous delirium of the musician was 
 communicate! to the dancers, and as the dance 
 proceeded, their efforts became still more desperate ; 
 the women wildly threw back their hair, and many 
 of the men took off their coats, and rolled up their 
 shirt-sleeves for the purpose of keeping cool. In 
 spite of every effort, however, the faces of the 
 dancers became quite red with the excitement, 
 and the hall was filled with a kind of heated fog, in 
 which the first " break-down'^ of the evening con- 
 cluded. 
 
 Then followed the refreshment scene. The men 
 drank whisky and smoked cigars, while the women 
 feasted upon mince-pies, drank small beer, and 
 sucked molasses candy. Some of the smaller men, 
 or boys, who were too lazy to dance, sneaked off 
 into an out-of-the-way room for the purpose of 
 
MONOTONOUS TUNE. 
 
 47 
 
 pitching pennies; while a few couples, who were 
 victims to the tender passion, retired to some cozy 
 nook, to bask unobserved in each other's smiles. 
 
 But now the screeching fiddle is again heard 
 above the murmur of talking and laughing voices, 
 and another rush is made for the sanded floor. 
 Another dance is there enjoyed, differing from tLa 
 one already described only in its increased extrava- 
 gance. After sawing away for a long time, as if for 
 dear life, the musician is politely requested to play 
 a new tune. Promptly does he assent to the propo- 
 sition, but having started on a fresh key, he soon 
 falls into the identical strain, which had kept him 
 busy for the previous hour ; so that the philosophic 
 listener is compelled to conclude that the fiddler 
 either cannot play more than one tune, or that he 
 has a particular passion for the monotonous and 
 nameless one to which he so closely clings. And 
 thus, with many indescribable variations does the 
 ball continue throughout the entire night. 
 
 I did not venture to trip the " Hght fantastic toe'' 
 on the occasion in question, but my enjoyment as a 
 calm spectator was very amusing and decidedly 
 original. Never before had I seen a greater amount 
 of labour performed by men and women in the same 
 time. I left this interesting assembly about mid- 
 night, fully satisfied with what I had seen and 
 
 i n 
 
 
 i 
 
48 
 
 \ STOLEN PEAST. 
 
 heard ; but I was afterwards told that I missed more 
 than " half the fun/' 
 
 When the music was loudest, so it appears, and 
 the frenzy of the dance at its climax, a select party 
 of Dutch gentlemen were suddenly seized with an 
 appetite for some more substantial food than had 
 yet been given them. They held a consultation on 
 the important subject, and finally agreed to ransack 
 the garret and cellar of their host for the purpose of 
 satisfying their natural desires. In the former 
 place they found a good supply of dried beef, and 
 in the latter, a few loaves of bread and a jar of rich 
 cream, upon which they regaled themselves without 
 favour, but with some fear. The giver of the Bee 
 subsequently discovered what had been done, and 
 though somewhat more than " three sheets in the 
 wind" slyly sent for a pair of constables, who soon 
 made their appearance, and arrested the thieving 
 guests, who were held to bail in the sum of fifty 
 dollars each. I was also informed that the dance 
 was kept up until six o'clock in the morning, and 
 that the appearance of my friend's establishment, 
 and the condition of his guests at seven o'clock, was 
 ridiculous in the extreme. A small proportion of 
 the Bee-party only had succeeded in starting for 
 home, so that the number who, from excess of 
 drinking and undue fatigue had retu'ed to repose, 
 

 LIMITED ACCOMMODATIOX. 
 
 49 
 
 was not far from three score and ten. The sleeping 
 accommodation of the host was limited^ and the 
 consequence was, that his guests had to shift for 
 themselves, as they best could. The floors of every 
 room in the house, including the pantries, were 
 literally covered with men and women; some of 
 them moaning with a severe head-ache, some 
 breathing audibly in a deep sleep, and others 
 snoring in the loudest and most approved style. 
 By twelve o'clock, the interesting company had 
 stolen off to their several homes, and the Corn- 
 Planting Bee, among the Catskills, was at an ^nd. 
 
 4 A 
 
 •<tf 
 
 li 
 
50 
 
 LAKE HORICOX. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Lake Horicon— Sketches of its scenery— Information for anglers— 
 Sabbatli-day Point— War memories— The Turret City— Death 
 of a deer— Roger's Slide— Diamond Island— The snake-charmer 
 — Snake stories — Night on the Horicon. 
 
 Lyman's Tavern. June. 
 
 Ip circumstances alone could make one poetical, 
 then might you expect from me on this occasion 
 a paper of rare excellence and beauty. My -sketch- 
 book is my desk, my canopy from the sunshine an 
 elm-tree, the carpet under my feet a rich green 
 sprinkled with flowers, the music in my ear of 
 singing birds, and the prospect before me, north, 
 east, and south, the tranquil bosom of Lake George, 
 with its islands and surrounding mountains, whose 
 waters, directly at my side, are alive with many 
 kinds of fish, sporting together on a bed of sand. 
 Yes, the far-famed Lake George is my subject. 
 
{ ' 
 
 LAKE IIORICON. 
 
 61 
 
 but in what I write I shall not use that title j for I 
 do not like the idea of christening what belongs 
 to UB with the name of an English monarch, how- 
 ever much his memory deserves to be respected. 
 Shall it be Lake St. Sacrament, then ? No ! for 
 that was given to it by the Pope and the French 
 nation. Horicon — a musical and appropriate word, 
 meaning pure water, and given it by the poor 
 Indian— is the name which rightfully belongs to 
 the lake which is now my theme. 
 
 Lake Horicon is one of the few objects in nature 
 which did not disappoint me a;fter reading the 
 descriptions of travellers. I verily believe, that in 
 2)oint of mere beauty, it has not its superior in the 
 vorld. Its length is thirty-four miles, and its 
 vidth from two to four. Its islands number about 
 hree hundred, and vary from ten feet to a mile 
 •n length ; a great many of them are situated in the 
 centre of the lake, at a place called the Narrows. 
 It is completely surrounded with mountains, the 
 most prominent of which are. Black Moimtain, on 
 the east of the Narrows, Tongue Mountain, directly 
 opposite, and French Mountain, at the southern 
 extremity. The first is the most lofty, and remyk- 
 able for its wildness, and the superb prospect there- 
 from; the second is also wild and uninhabited, 
 but distinguished for its dens of rattlesnakes ; and 
 
 D 2 
 
 li- 
 
 M 
 
 i 
 
 >< i 
 
 m 
 
 
 I'll 
 
 
 n 
 
52 
 
 LAKE HORICON. 
 
 the latter is somewhat cultivated, but memorable 
 for having been the camping-ground of the French 
 during the Revolutionary war. The whole eastern 
 border is yet a comparative wilderness ; but along 
 the western shore are some respectable farms, and a 
 good coach-road from Caldwell to Ticonderoga, 
 which affords many admirable views of the sky-blue 
 lake. There are three public-houses here which I 
 can recommend : the Lake House, for those who 
 are fond of company ; Lyman.'s Tavern, for the 
 hunter of scenery and lover of quiet ; and Garfield's 
 House, for the fisherman. A nice little steam-boat, 
 commanded by a gentleman, passes through the 
 Lake every morning and evening (excepting Sun- 
 days), and though a convenient affair to the 
 tra\ eller, it is an eye-sore to the admirer of the 
 wilderness. 
 
 Identified with this boat is an eccentric man, 
 named " Old Dick,'' who amuses the tourist, and 
 collects an occasional shilling by exhibiting a 
 number of rattlesnakes. When, in addition to all 
 these things, it is remembered that Horicon is the 
 centre of a region made classic by the exploits of 
 civiiized and savage warfare, it can safely be pro- 
 nounced one of the most interesting portions of our 
 country for the summer tourist to visit. I have 
 looked upon it from many a peak, whence might be 
 
LAKE HORICON. 
 
 53 
 
 seen almost every rood of its shore. I have sailed 
 into every one of its bays ; and, like the pearl-diver, 
 have repeatedly descended into its cold blue cham- 
 bers ; so that I have learned to love it as a faithful 
 and well-tried friend. Since the day of my arrival 
 here, I have kept a journal of my adventures ; and, 
 as a memorial of Horicon, I will extract therefrom 
 and embody in this chapter the following passages. 
 
 LAKE HORICON. 
 
 Six ])encil sketches have I executed upon the Lake 
 to-day. One of them was a view of the distant 
 mountains, whose various outlines were concentrated 
 at one point, and whose colour was of that delicate 
 dreamy blue, created by a sunlight atmosphere, 
 with the sun directly in front. In the middle 
 
 i| 
 
 !! 
 
 ■im 
 
 
 o:?' 
 « .» 
 
 
 III 
 
 I 
 
 : { 
 
 I 
 
 ' 
 
 
 1 
 
54 
 
 LAKE HOEICON. 
 
 distance was a flock of islands^ with a sail boat in 
 their midst^ and in the foreground a cluster of 
 rocks^ surmounted by a single cedar^ which seemed 
 to be the sentinel of a fortress. Another was of the 
 ruins of Fort George^ with a background of dark 
 green mountains^ which was made quite desolate by 
 a flock of sheep sleeping in one of its shady moats. 
 Another was of a rowing race between two rival 
 fishermen, at the time when they were only a dozen 
 rods from the goal, and when every nerve of their 
 aged frames was strained to the utmost. Another 
 was of a neat log-cabin on a quiet lawn near the 
 water, at whose threshold a couple of ragged but 
 beautiful children were playing with a large dog, 
 while from the chimney of the house ascended the 
 blue smoke with a thousand fantastic evolutions. 
 Another was of a huge pine tree, which towered 
 conspicuously above its kindred on the Inountain 
 side, and seemed to me an appropriate symbol of 
 Webster in the midst of a vast concourse of his 
 fellow-men. And the last was of a thunder-storm, 
 driven away from a mountain top by the mild 
 radiance of a rainbow, which partly encircled Hori- 
 con in a loving embrace. 
 
 I have been fishing to-day, and, while enduring 
 some poor sport, indited in my mind the following 
 
LAKE HORICON. 
 
 55 
 
 infonnation, for the benefit of my piscatorial friends. 
 The daygjr of trout-fishing in Lake Horicon are 
 nearly at an end. A few years ago it abounded in 
 salmon-trout^ which were frequently caught weigh- 
 ing twenty pounds^ but their average weight at the 
 present is not more than one pound and a half, and 
 they are scarce even at that. In taking them you 
 first have to obtain a sufficient quantity of saphng 
 bark to reach the bottom in sixty feet of water, to 
 one end of which must be fastened a stone, and to 
 the other a stick of wood, which desi*?nates your 
 fishing ground, and is called a buoy. A variety of 
 more common fish are then caught, such as suckers, 
 perch, and eels, which are cut up and deposited, 
 some half a peck at a time, in the vicinity of the 
 buoy. In a few days, the trout will begin to 
 assemble, and so long as you keep them well fed, 
 a brace of them may be captured at any time during 
 the summer. But the fact is, this is only another 
 way for " paying too dear for the whistle.'' Tht 
 best angling, after all, is for the common brook 
 trout, which is a bolder biting fish, and better for the 
 table than the salmon -trout. The cause of the gi-eat 
 decrease in the large trout of this lake is this — in 
 the autumn, when they have sought the shores for 
 the purpose of spawning, the neighbouring bar- 
 
56 
 
 TROUT FISHING. 
 
 barians have been accustomed to spear tbem by 
 torch-light ; and if the heartless business does not 
 soon cease^ the result will be, that in a few years 
 they will be extinct. There are two other kinds of 
 trout in the lake, however, which yet afford good 
 sport — ^the silver-trout, caught in the summer, and 
 the fall-trout. But the black-bass, upon the whole, 
 is now mostly valued by the fisherman. They are 
 in their prime in the summer months. They vary 
 from one to five pounds in weight ; are taken by 
 trolling and with a drop line, and afford fine sport. 
 Their haunts are along the rocky shores, and it is 
 often the case that on a still day you may see them 
 from your l)oat swimming about in herds, where 
 the Water is twenty feet deep. They have a queer 
 fashion when hooked, of leaping out of the water 
 for the purpose of getting clear, and it is seldom 
 that a novice in the gentle art can keep them from 
 succeeding. But alas, their numbers also are fast 
 diminishing, by the same means and the same 
 hands that have killed the trout. My advice to 
 those who come here exclusively for the purpose of 
 fishing is, to continue their journey to the sources 
 of the Hudson, Schroon Lake, Long Lake, and 
 Lake Pleasant, in whose several waters there seems 
 to be no end to every variety of trout, and where 
 
SABBATH DAY POINT. 
 
 57 
 
 may be found much wild and beautiful scenery. 
 The angler of the present day will be disappointed 
 in Lake Horicon. 
 
 When issuing from the Narrows on your way 
 down the Horicon, the most attractive object, next 
 to the mountains, is a strip of low sandy land 
 extending into the lake, called Sabbath Day Point. 
 It was so christened by Abercrombie, who encamped 
 and spent the Sabbath there, when on his way to 
 Ticonderoga, where he was so sadly defeated. I 
 look upon it as one of the most enchanting places 
 in the world; but the pageant with which it is 
 associated was not only enchanting, and beautiful, 
 but magnificent. Only look upon the picture. 
 
 It is the sunset hour, and before us, far up in 
 the upper air, and companion of the evening star 
 and a host of glowing clouds, rises the majestic 
 form of Black Mountain, enveloped in a mantle of 
 rosy atmosphere. The bosom of the Lake is without 
 a ripple, and every cliff, ravine, and island, has its 
 counterpart in the pure waters. A blast of martial 
 music from drums, fifes, bagpipes, and bugle horns, 
 now falls upon the ear, and the immense procession 
 comes in sight ; one thousand and thirty -five 
 battaux, containing an army of seventeen thousand 
 souls, headed by the brave Abercrombie and the 
 
 D 3 
 
58 
 
 FORT WILLIAM HENEY. 
 
 red cross of England — ^the scarlet uniforms and 
 glistening bayonets forming a line of light against 
 the darker back-ground of the mountain. And 
 behind a log in the foreground is a crouching 
 Indian runner^ who^ with the speed of a hawk, will 
 carry the tidings to the French nation that an army 
 is coming, '' numerous as the leaves upon the 
 trees/' Far from the strange scene fly the afiErighted 
 denizens of mountain and wave — ^while thousands 
 of human hearts are beating happily at the prospect 
 of victory, whose bodies in a few hours will be food 
 for the raven on the plains of Ticonderoga. 
 
 A goodly portion of this day have I been musing 
 upon the olden times, while rambling about Fort 
 George, and Fort William Henry. Long and with 
 peculiar interest did I linger about the spot near 
 the latter, where were cruelly massacred the fol- 
 lowers of Monroe, at which time Montcalm linked 
 his name to the title of a heartless Frenchman, and 
 the name of Webb became identified with all that 
 is justly despised by the human heart. I profess 
 myself to be an enemy to wrong and outrage of 
 every kind, and yet a lover and defender of the 
 Indian race ; but when I picked up one after another 
 the flinty heads of arrows, which were mementos 
 of an awful butchery, my spirit revolted against 
 
REFLECTIONS. 
 
 59 
 
 the Red man^ and for a moment I felt a desire to 
 condemn him. Yes^ I will condemn that particular 
 band of murderers^ but I cannot but defend the 
 race. 
 
 Cruel and treacherous they were, I will allow, 
 but do we forget the treatment they ever met with 
 from the white man? The most righteous of 
 battles have ever been fought for the sake of sires 
 and wives and children, and for what else did the 
 poor Indian fight, when driven from the home of his 
 youth into an unknown wilderness, to become there- 
 after a by-word and a reproach among the nations ? 
 " Indians,'' said we, " we would have your lands ; 
 and if you will not be satisfied with the gewgaws 
 we proffer, our powder and balls will teach you that 
 power is but another name for right.'' And this is 
 the principle that has guided the white man ever 
 since in his warfare against the aborigines of our 
 country. I cannot believe that we shall ever be a 
 happy and prosperous people, until the King of 
 Kings shall have forgiven us for having, with a yoke 
 of tyranny, almost annihilated a hundred nations. 
 
 A portion of this afternoon I whiled away on 
 a little island, which attracted my attention by 
 its charming variety of foliage. It is not more 
 than one hundred feet across at the widest part, 
 
 ;^:'ttn 
 
60 
 
 AN INSECT CITY. 
 
 and is encircled by a yellow sand-bank, and 
 shielded by a regiment of variegated rocks. But 
 what could I find there to interest me, it may 
 be inquired. My answer is this. That island, 
 hidden in one of the bays of Horicon, is an Insect 
 city, and more populous than was Home in the days 
 of her glory. There the honey-bee has his oaken 
 tower, the wasp and humble-bee their grassy nests, 
 the spider his den, the butterfly his hammock, 
 the grasshopper his domain, the beetle and cricket 
 and hornet their decayed stump, and the toiling 
 ant her palace of sand. There they were born, 
 there they flourish and multiply, and there they 
 die, symbolizing the career and destiny of man. 
 I was a " distinguished stranger " in that city, and 
 I must confess that it gratified my ambition to 
 be welcomed with such manifestations of regard as 
 the inhabitants thought proper to bestow. My 
 approach was heralded by the song of a kingly 
 bee j and when I had thrown myself upon a mossy 
 bank, multitudes of people gathered round, and, with 
 their eyes intently fixed upon me, stood still, and 
 let '' expressive silence muse my praise.'' To the 
 '' natives '' I was emphatically a source of astonish- 
 ment ; and as I wished to gather instruction from 
 the event, I wondered in my heart whether I should 
 be a happier man if my presence in a human city 
 
STAG HUNT. 
 
 61 
 
 should create a kindred excitement. At any rate, 
 it would be a " great excitement on a small capital." 
 
 While quietly eating my dinner this noon in 
 the shady recess of an island near Black Mountain, 
 I was startled by the yell of a pack of hounds 
 coming down one of its ravines. I knew that 
 the chase was after a deer, so I waited in breathless 
 anxiety for his appearance. Five minutes had 
 hardly elapsed before I discovered a noble buck 
 at bay on the extreme summit of a bluff which 
 extended into the lake. There were five dogs yelp- 
 ing about him, but the " antlered monarch '' fought 
 them like a hero. His hoof was the most dan- 
 gerous weapon he could wield, and it seemed to 
 me that the earth actually trembled every time 
 that he struck at his enemies. Presently, to my 
 great joy, one of the hounds was killed, and another 
 so disabled, that he retired from the contest. But 
 the hunters made their appearance, and I knew 
 that the scene would soon come to a tragic close. 
 And when the buck beheld them, I could not but 
 believe that over his face a "tablet of agonizing 
 thoughts was traced," for he feel upon his knees, 
 then made a sudden wheel, and with a frightful 
 bound, as a ball passed through his heart, cleared 
 
 I;:i 
 
 S't 
 
 i 
 
 lii 
 
62 
 
 ROGERS' SLIDE. 
 
 the rock and fell into the lake below. The waters 
 closed over him; and methought that the waves 
 of Horicon and the leaves of the forest murmured 
 a requiem above the grave of the wilderness king. 
 I turned away with a tear in my eye, and partly 
 resolved that I would never again have a dog for 
 my friend, or respect the character of a hunter; 
 but then I looked into the crystal waters of the 
 lake, and thought of the beam in my own eye, and 
 stood convicted of a kindred cruelty. 
 
 One of the most singular precipices overlooking 
 Horicon is about five miles from the outlet, and 
 known as Rogers' Slide. It is some four hundred 
 feet high, and at one point not a fissure or sprig 
 can be discerned to mar the polished surface of 
 the rock till it reaches the water. Once on a time, 
 in the winter, the said Rogers was pursued by a 
 band of Indians to this spot, where, after throwing 
 down his knapsack, he carefully retraced the steps 
 of his snow-shoes for a short distance, and descend- 
 ing the hill by a circuitous route, continued his 
 course across the frozen lake. The Indians, on 
 coming to the jumping-off-place, discovered their 
 enemy on the icy plain; but when they saw the 
 neglected knapsack below, and no signs of return- 
 
DIAMOND ISLAND. 
 
 63 
 
 ing footsteps where they stood, they thought the 
 devil must be in the man, and gave up the pursuit. 
 
 The most famous, and one of the most beautiful 
 islands in this lake, is Diamond Island, so called, 
 from the fact that it abounds in crystallized quartz. 
 It is half a mile in length, but the last place in the 
 world which would be thought of as the scene 
 of a battle. It is memorable for the attack made 
 by the Americans on the British, who had a gar- 
 rison there during the Revolution. The American 
 detachment was commanded by Colonel Brown^ and 
 being elated with his recent triumphs on Lake 
 Champlain, he resolved to attack Diamond Island. 
 The battle was bloody, and the British fought 
 like brave men, "long and well;" the Americans 
 were defeated, and this misfortune was followed 
 by the sufferings of a most painful retreat over 
 the almost impassable mountains between the Lake 
 and what is now Whitehall. While wandering 
 about the island, it was a difficult matter for me to 
 realize, that it had ever resounded with the roar 
 of cannon, the dismal wail of war, and the shout of 
 victory. That spot is now covered with woods, 
 whose shadowy groves are the abode of a thousand 
 
 4I' 
 
 .1* 
 
 ?» 
 
 *'i 
 
 |i 
 
 
 
 i 
 
64 
 
 A CHARACTER. 
 
 birdSj for ever singing a song of peace or love, as if 
 to condemn the ambition and cruelty of man. 
 
 In the vicinity of French Mountain is an island 
 celebrated as the burial place of a rattle-snake 
 hunter, named Belden. From all that I can learn, 
 he must have been a strange mortal indeed. His 
 birth-place and early history were alike unknown. 
 When he first made his appearance at this Lake, 
 his only conipanions were a brotherhood of rattle- 
 snakes, by exhibiting which he professed to have 
 obtained his living; and it is said that, during 
 the remainder of his life, he acquired a handsome 
 sum of money by selling the oil and gall of his 
 favourite reptile. And I have recently been told, 
 that the present market-price of a fat snake, when 
 dead, is not less than half a dollar. Another mode 
 peculiar to old Belden for making money, was to 
 suffer himself to be bitten, at some tavern, after 
 which he would return to his cabin to apply the 
 remedy, when he would come forth again just as good 
 as new. But he was not always to be a solemn trifler. 
 For a week had the old man been missing, and on a 
 pleasant August morning, his body was found on 
 the island alluded to, sadly mutilated and bloated, 
 and it was certain that he had died actually sur- 
 
UNPLEASANT VISITORS. 
 
 65 
 
 rounded by rattlesnakes. His death-bed became 
 his grave, and rattlesnakes were his only watchers, 
 — and thus endeth the story of his life. 
 
 But this reminds me of two little adventures. 
 The other day, as I was seated near the edge of 
 ,a sand bar, near the mouth of a brook, sketching a 
 group of trees and the sunset clouds beyond, I 
 was startled by an immense black snake, that 
 landed at my side, and pursued its way directly 
 under my legs, upon which my drawing-book 
 was resting. Owing to my perfect silence, the 
 creature had probably looked upon me as a mere 
 stump. But what was my surprise, a few moments 
 after, when reseated in the same place, to find 
 another snake, and that a large spotted adder, 
 passing along the same track the former had pur- 
 sued. The first fright had almost disabled me 
 from using the pencil, but when the second came, 
 I gave a lusty yell, and forgetful of the fine arts, 
 started for home on the keen run. 
 
 At another time, when returning from a fishing 
 excursion, in a boat, accompanied by a couple of 
 "greenhorns," we discovered on the water, near 
 Tongue Mountain, an immense rattlesnake, with 
 his head turned towards us. As the oarsman in 
 the bow of the boat struck at him with his oar, the 
 snake coiled round it, and the fool was in the very 
 
 m 
 
 
 i; 
 
 «?, 
 
 u 
 
 
 y 
 
66 
 
 FEMALE SNAKE-HUNTERS. 
 
 act of dropping the devilish thing in my lap at the 
 stern of the boat. I had heard the creature rattle, 
 and not knowing what I did, as he hung suspended 
 over me, overboard I went, and did not look behind 
 till I had reached the land. The consequence was, 
 that for one while I was perfectly disgusted even* 
 with Lake Horicon, and resolved to leave it without 
 delay. The snake was killed without doing any 
 harm, however ; but such a blowing up as I gave 
 the man actually made his hair stand straight with 
 fear. 
 
 One more snake story and I'll conclude. On the 
 north side of Black Mountain is a cluster of some 
 half-dozcD lOUses, in a vale, which spot is called the 
 Bosom, but from what cause I do not know. The 
 presiding geniuses of the place are a band of girls, 
 weighing two hundred pounds a piece, who farm 
 it with their fathers for a living, but whose prin- 
 cipal amusement is rattlesnake hunting. Their 
 favourite playground is the notorious cliff on Tongue 
 Mountain, where they go with naked feet (rowing 
 their own boats across the Lake), and pull out 
 by their tails from the rocks the pretty playthings, 
 and, snapping them to death, they lay them away 
 in a basket as trophies of their skill. I was told 
 that in one day last year tiiey killed the incredible 
 number of eleven hundred. What delicious wives 
 
RETROSPECTION. 
 
 67 
 
 would these Horicon ladies makel Since the 
 Florida Indians have been driven from their country 
 by bloodhounds, would it not be a good idea for 
 Congress to secure the services of these amazons 
 for the purpose of exterminating the rattlesnakes 
 upon our mountains. This latter movement would 
 be the most ridiculous ; but the inhumanity of the 
 former is without a parallel. 
 
 A clear and tranquil summer night, and I am 
 alone on the pebbly beach of this paragon of Lakes. 
 The countless hosts of heaven are beaming upon me 
 with a silent joy, and more impressive and holy 
 than a poet's dream are the surrounding moun- 
 tains, as they stand reflected in the unruffled waters. 
 Listen ! what sound is that, so like the wail of a 
 spirit ? Only a loon, the lonely night-wat/cher of 
 Horicon, whose melancholy moan, as it breaks the 
 profound stillness, carries my fancy back to the 
 olden Indian times, ere the white man had crossed 
 the ocean. All these mountains and this beautiful 
 Lake were then the heritage of a brave and noble- 
 hearted people, who made war only upon the deni- 
 zens of the forest, whose lives were peaceful as a 
 dream, and whose manly forms, decorated with the 
 plumes of the eagle, the feathers of the scarlet bird, 
 and the robe of the bounding stag, tended but to 
 
 
 
68 
 
 RETROSPECTION. 
 
 make the scenery of the wilderness heautiful as an 
 earthly Eden. Here was the quiet wigwam village, 
 and there the secluded abode of the thoughtful 
 chief. Here, unmolested, the Indian child played 
 with the spotted fawn, and the " Indian lover wooed 
 his dusky mate ;" here the Indian hun. er, in the 
 " sunset of his life," watched, with holy awe, the 
 sunset in the west, and here the ancient Indian 
 prophetess sung her imcouth but religious chant. 
 Gone — all, all gone — and the desolate creature of 
 the waves, now pealing forth another wail, seems 
 the only memorial that they have left behind. 
 There — my recent aspirations are all quelled, I can 
 walk no farther to-night ; there is sadness in my 
 soul, and I must seek my home. It is such a 
 blessed night, that it seems almost sinful that a 
 blight should rest upon the spirit of man ; yet on 
 mine a gloom will sometimes fall, nor can I tell 
 from whence the cloud that makes me wretched. 
 
SCAROON RIVER. 
 
 69 
 
 m 
 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The Scaroon Country — Scaroon Lake — Pike Fishing by Torch- 
 light — Trout Fishing — Lyndsey's Tavern— Paradox Lake. 
 
 Lyndsey's Tavern. June. 
 Emptying into the Hudson River, about fifteen 
 miles north of Glen's Falls, is quite a large stream, 
 sometimes called the East Branch of the Hudson, 
 but generally known as Scaroon River.* Its extreme 
 length is not far from fifty miles. It is a clear, cold, 
 and rapid stream, winds through a mountainous 
 country, and has rather a deep channel. The valley 
 through which it runs is somewhat cultivated, but 
 the mountains, which frown upon it on either side, 
 are cjvered with dense forests. The valley of the 
 Scaroon abounds in beautiful lakes and brooks ; and 
 as I have explored them pretty thoroughly during 
 
 * The word Schroon is bad English for the Indian vi^ord 
 Scaroon, the meaning of which is — " Child of the Mountains." 
 It was originally named by an Algonquin Chief, after a favourite 
 daughter. 
 
 i;k: 
 
^» 
 
 70 
 
 SCAROON LAKE. 
 
 the past week, I will now record the result of my 
 observations. 
 
 The most prominent pictorial features of this 
 region is Scaroon Lake, through which the river 
 of that name forms a channel. It is ten miles in 
 length, and averages about one in width. Excepting 
 a little hamlet at its head, and two or three farms 
 at the southern extremity, it is yet surrounded with 
 a wilderness of mountains. The waters thereof are 
 deep and clear, and well supplied with fish, of 
 which the salmon-trout and pike are the most 
 valuable. The trout are more abundant here than 
 in Lake George, but owing to the prevailing cus- 
 tom of spearing them in the autumn, they are 
 rapidly becoming extinct. I made a desperate efibrt 
 to capture one as a specimen, but without success, 
 though I was told that they varied in weight from 
 ten to fifteen pounds. My efforts, however, in taking 
 pike were more encouraging. But, before giving 
 my experience, I must mention an interesting fact 
 in natural history. Previous to the year 1840, 
 Scaroon Lpke was not known to contain a single 
 pike, but during that year, some half dozen males 
 and females were brought from Lake Champlain 
 and deposited therein, since which time they have 
 multiplied so rapidly, as to b<i quite abundant, not 
 only in Scaroon Lake, but in all the neighbouring 
 waters. And as they are frequently takeii, weighing 
 
PIKE FISHING. 
 
 71 
 
 some twenty pounds^ the fact seems to be established 
 that this fish grows rapidly, and is not of slow 
 growth, as many naturalists have supposed. 
 
 But to my pike story. A number of lumbermen 
 were going out for the purpose of taking pike by 
 torch-light, and I was fortunate enough to secure a 
 seat in one of the three flat boats which contained 
 the fishermen. It was a superb night, and the 
 lake was without a ripple. Our torches were made 
 of " fat pine," as it is here called ; and my polite 
 friends taking it for granted that I was a novice in 
 the spearing business, they cunningly awarded to 
 me the dullest spear in their possession, and gave 
 me the poorest position in the boat. I said nothing 
 to all this, but inwardly resolved that I would give 
 them a salutary lesson, if possible. I fished from 
 nine until twelve o'clock, and then left my friends 
 to continue the sport. The entire number of pike 
 taken, as I found out in the morning, was thirteen ; 
 and, as fortune would have it, four of this number 
 were captured by myself, in spite of my poor spear. 
 I did not take the largest fish, which weighed 
 eighteen pounds, but the greatest number, with 
 which success I was fully satisfied. The effect of 
 my good luck upon my companions was unexpected, 
 but gratifying to me ; for there was afterwards a 
 strife between them, as to who should show me the 
 
 ifi 
 
 
72 
 
 A MOG; TiHT SCENE. 
 
 most attention in the way of piloting me about the 
 country. This little adventure taught me the 
 importance of understanding even the vagabond art 
 of spearing. 
 
 The event of that nighty however, which afforded 
 me the purest enjoyment, was the witnessing of a 
 moonlight scene, immediately after leaving the Lake 
 shore, for the inn where I was staying. Before 
 me, in wild and solemn beauty, lay the southern 
 portion of the Scaroon, on . whose bosom were 
 gliding the spearmen, holding high above their 
 heads three huge torches, which threw a spectral 
 glare, not only upon the water, but upon the 
 swarthy forms which were watching for their prey. 
 Just at this moment an immense cloud of fog broke 
 away, and directly above the summit of the oppo- 
 site mountain, the clear full moon made its appear- 
 ance, and a thousand fantastic figures, bom of the 
 fog, were pictured in the sky, and appeared ex- 
 tremely brilliant under the effulgence of the ruling 
 planet ; while the zenith of sky was of a deep blue, 
 cloudless, but compeltely spangled with stars. And 
 what greatly added to the magic of the scene, was 
 the dismal r cream of a loon, which came to my ear 
 from a remote portion of the Lake which was yet 
 covered with a heavy fog. 
 
 Rising from the western margin of Scaroon Lake, 
 
 -^ -'-■"s^^gg/lll^ 
 
TROUT BROOK. 
 
 73 
 
 is a lofty mountain, which was once painted by 
 Thomas Cole, and by him named Scaroon Moun- 
 tain. There is nothing particularly imposing about 
 it, but it commands an uncommonly fine prospect of 
 the surrounding country. When I first came in 
 sight of this mountain, it struck me as an old 
 acquaintance, and I reined in my horse for the 
 purpose of investigating its features. Before I 
 resumed my course, I concluded that I was standing 
 on the very spot whence the artist Cole had taken 
 his original sketch of the scene, by which cir- 
 cumstance I was convinced of the fidelity of his 
 pencil. 
 
 The largest island in Scaroon Lake lies near 
 the northern extremity, and studs the water like 
 an emerald on a field of blue. It was purchased 
 some years ago by a gentleman of New York, 
 named Ireland, who has built a summer residence 
 upon it, for the accommodation of himself and 
 friends. 
 
 Emptying into the Scaroon river, just below the 
 Lake, is a isi^perb mountain stream, known as 
 Trout Brook. It is thirty feet wide, twelve miles 
 long, and comes rushing down the mountains, 
 forming a thousand waterfalls and pools, and filling 
 its narrow valley with a continual roar of music. 
 
 ±:'..k JS&. 
 
74 
 
 8TONE BRIDGE. 
 
 Not only is it distinguished for the quality and 
 number of its trout, but it possesses one attraction 
 which will pay the tourist for the weary tramp he 
 must undergo to explore its remote recesses. I 
 allude to what the people about here call the " Stone 
 Bridge.'' At this point, the wild and dashing 
 stream has formed a channel directly through the 
 solid mountains; so that in fishing down, the 
 angler suddenly finds himself standing upon a pile 
 of dry stones. The extent of this natural bridge is 
 not more than twenty, or perhaps thirty feet ; but 
 the wonder is, that the unseen channel is sufficiently 
 large to admit the passage of the largest logs, which 
 the lumbermen float down the stream. 
 
 I might also add, that at the foot of this bridge 
 is one of the finest pools imaginable. It is, per- 
 haps, one hundred feet long; and so very deep, 
 that the clear water appears quite black. This is 
 the finest spot in the whole brook for trout ; and 
 my luck there may be described as follows : I had 
 basketed no less than nine half-pounders, when my 
 fly was suddenly seized, and my snell snapped in 
 twain by the fierceness of his leaps. The conse- 
 quence of that defeat was, that I resolved to capture 
 the trout, if I had to remain there all night. I 
 then ransacked the mountain-side for a living bait, 
 
 
■■) 
 
 TROUT FISHING. 
 
 75 
 
 .f ■) 
 
 and with the aid of my companion, succeeded in 
 capturing a small mouse, and just as the twilight 
 was coming on, I tied the little fellow to my hook, 
 and threw him on the water. He swam out in 
 fine style ; but when he reached the centre of the 
 pool, a large trout leaped completely out of his 
 element, and in descending, seized the mouse. 
 The result was, that I broke my rod, but caught the 
 trout ; and though the mouse was seriously injured, 
 I had the pleasure of again giving him his liberty. 
 
 The largest trout that I killed weighed nearly 
 a pound; and though he was the cause of my 
 re'.>eiving a ducking, he afforded me some sport, 
 and gave me a new idea. When I first hooked 
 him, I stood on the very margin of the stream, 
 knee deep in a bog ; and just as I was about to 
 basket him, he gave a sudden leap, cleared himself, 
 and fell into the water. Quick as thought, I made 
 an effort to rescue him ; but in doing so, lost my 
 balance, and was playing the part of a turtle in 
 a tub of water. I then became poetical, and 
 thought it '' would never do to give it up so ;" and 
 after waiting some fifteen minutes, I returned, and 
 tried for the lost trout again. I threw my fly some 
 twenty feet above the place where T had tumbled in, 
 and recaptured the identical trout which I had lost. 
 
 e2 
 
76 
 
 SPORTING FRIENDS. 
 
 I recognized him by his having a torn and bleeding 
 mouth. 
 
 This circumstance convinced me that trout, like 
 many of the sons of men, have short memories, and 
 also that the individual in question was a perfect 
 Richelieu or General Taylor in his way, for he 
 seemed to know no such word as fail. As to the 
 trout that I did not capture, I verily believe that 
 he must have weighed two pounds ; but as he was 
 probably a superstitious gentleman, he thought it 
 the better part of valour, somewhat like Santa Anna, 
 to treat the steel of his enemy with contempt. 
 
 The brook of which I have been speaking, is only 
 twenty-five miles from Lake Horicon, and unques- 
 tionably one of the best streams for the angler in 
 the Scaroon Valley. The Trout Brook Pavilion, at 
 the mouth of it, kept by one Lockwood, is a com- 
 fortable inn ; and his right-hand man, named Kipp, 
 is a very fine fellow, and a perfect angler. 
 
 Speaking of the above friends, reminds me of 
 another, a fine man, named Lyndsey, who keeps 
 a tavern, about ten miles north of Scaroon Lake. 
 His dwelling is delightfully situated in the centre of 
 a deep valley, and is a nice and convenient place to 
 stop at for those who are fond of fishing, and 
 admire romantic scenery. His family, including 
 
 N. 
 
A CHALLENGE. 
 
 n 
 
 his wife, two daughters and one son, not only 
 know how to make their friends comfortable, but 
 they seem to have a passion for doing kind 
 deeds. 
 
 During my stay at this place, I had the pleasure 
 of witnessing a most interesting game, which seems 
 to be peculiar to this part of the country. It was 
 played with the common ball, and by one hundred 
 sturdy farmers. Previous to the time alluded to, 
 fifty Scaroon players had challenged an equal num- 
 ber of players from a neighbouring village, named 
 Moriah. The conditions were, that the defeated 
 party should pay for a dinner, to be given by my 
 friend Lyndsey. They commenced playing at nine 
 o'clock, and the game was ended in about three 
 hours, the Scaroon party having won by about ten 
 counts in five hundred. The majority of the players 
 varied from thirty to thirty-five years of age, though 
 some of the most expert of them were verging upon 
 sixty years. They played with the impetuosity of 
 school-boys; and there were some admirable feats 
 performed in the way of knocking and catching the 
 ball. Some of the men could number their acres 
 by thousands, and all of them were accustomed to 
 severe labour, and yet they thought it absolutely 
 necessary to participate occasionally in this manly 
 
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78 
 
 LAKE PARADOX. 
 
 and fatiguing sport. The dinner passed off in fine 
 style, and was spiced by many agricultural anec- 
 dotes; and as the sun was setting, the parties 
 separated in the best of spirits, and returned to their 
 several homes. 
 
 For fear that I should forget my duty, I would 
 now introduce to my reader, a sheet of water 
 embosomed among these mountains, which glories 
 in the name of Lake Paradox. How it came by 
 that queer title, I was not able to learn ; but this I 
 know, that it is one of the most beautiful lakes 
 I have ever seen. It is five miles long, and sur- 
 rounded with uncultivated mountains, excepting at 
 its foot, where opens a beautiful plain, highly culti- 
 vated, and dotted with a variety of rude but 
 exceedingly comfortable farm-houses. The shores 
 of Lake Paradox are rocky, the water deep and 
 clear, abounding in fish, and the lines of 
 the mountains are picturesque to an uncommon 
 degree. 
 
 But it is time that I should turn from particulars 
 to a general description of the Scaroon County. 
 Though this is an agricultural region, the two 
 principal articles of export are lumber and iron. 
 Of the former, the principal varieties are pine, 
 hemlock, and spruce; and the two establishments 
 

 SCAROON COUNTY. 
 
 79 
 
 for the manufacture of iron are abundantly supplied 
 with ore from the surrounding mountains. Potatoes 
 of the finest quality flourish here, also wheat and 
 corn. The people are mostly Americans^ intelli- 
 gent, virtuous and industrious, and are as comfort- 
 able and happy as any in the State. 
 
 1? 
 
 1 Wl 
 
 I.Jj.l J. 
 
80 
 
 ADIRONDAC MOUNTAINS. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The Adirondac Mountains— Trout Fishing in the Boreas River — 
 A niffht in the woods — Moose Lake — Lake Delia — Mount Taha- 
 was — Lakes Sanford and Henderson — The Mclntyre Iron 
 Works. 
 
 John Cheney's Cabin. June. 
 
 The Adirondac Mountains are situated on the 
 extreme head waters of the Hudson, in the Counties 
 of Essex and Hamilton, and about forty miles west 
 of Lake Champlain. They vary from five hundred 
 to five thousand feet in height, and with few excep- 
 tions are covered with dense forests. They lord it 
 over the most extensive wilderness region in the 
 Empire State ; and as I have recently performed a 
 pilgrimage among them, I now purpose to give an 
 account of what I saw and heard during my expe- 
 dition. 
 
 The tourist, who visits these mountains, finds it 
 

 NOVEL COMPANIONS. 
 
 81 
 
 necessary to leave the mail road near Lyndsey's 
 Tavern on the Scaroon. If fortune smiles upon him, 
 he will be able to hire a horse to take him in the 
 interior, or perhaps obtain a seat in a lumber 
 wagon ; but if not, he must try the mettle of his 
 l.;gs. With regard to my own case, fortune was 
 non-committal ; for, while she compelled me to go 
 01 foot, she supplied me with a pair of temporary 
 companions, who were going into the interior to see 
 their friends, and have a few days' sport in the way 
 of fishing and hunting. 
 
 One of my friends, (both of whom were young 
 men), was a farmer, who carried a rifle, and the 
 other a travelling country musician, who carried a 
 fiddle. Our first day's tramp took us about fifteen 
 miles, through a hilly, thickly wooded, and house- 
 less wilderness, to the Boreas River, where we 
 found a ruined log shantee, in which we determined 
 to spend the night. We reached this lonely spot at 
 three o'clock in the afternoon; and having pre- 
 viously been told that the Boreas was famous for 
 trout, two of us started after a mess of fish, while 
 the fiddler was appointed to the office of wood chop- 
 per to the expedition. 
 
 The Boreas at this point is about one hundred 
 feet broad, winds through a woody valley, and is 
 cold, rapid and clear. The entire river does not 
 
 E 3 
 
 IB.' 
 
 i:- 
 
 
83 
 
 A WILDERNESS SUPPER. 
 
 i 
 
 differ materially, as I understand from the point 
 alluded to, for it waters an unknown wilderness. 
 I bribed my farmer friend to ascend the river, and 
 having pocketed a variety of flies, I started down 
 the stream. I proceeded near half a mile, when 
 I came to a still-water pool, which seemed to be 
 extensive and very deep. At the head of it, midway 
 in the stream, was an immense boulder, which I 
 succeeded in surmounting, and whence I threw a 
 red hackle for upwards of three hours. I never saw 
 trout jump more beautifully, and it was my rare 
 luck to basket thirty-four, twenty-one of which 
 averaged three quarters of a pound, and the remain- 
 ing thirteen were regular two pounders. Satisfied 
 with my luck, I returned to the shantee, where I 
 found my companions, one of them sitting before a 
 blazing fire and fiddling, and the other busily em- 
 ployed in cleaning the trout he had taken. 
 
 In due time followed the principal event of the 
 day, which consisted in cooking and eating a wilder- 
 ness supper. We had brought a supply of pork and 
 bread, and each one having prepared for himself a 
 pair of wooden forks, we proceeded to roast our 
 trout and pork before a huge fire, using the di'ip- 
 pings of the latter foi seasoning, and a leather cup 
 of water for our beverage. We spent the two follow- 
 ing hours in smoking and telling stories ; and having 
 
 
 ■ f 'fCnB'WjW^M^S^?! 
 
A NIGHT HUNT. 
 
 88 
 
 made a bed of spruce boughs, and repaired the 
 rickety partition which divided one end of the cabin 
 from the other end, which was all open, we retired 
 to repose. We had no blankets with us, and an 
 agreement was, therefore, entered into that we should 
 take turns in replenishing the fire, during the 
 night. An awfully dark cloud settled upon the 
 wilderness, and by the music of the wind among 
 the hemlock trees we were soon lulled into a deep 
 slumber. 
 
 A short time after miduight, while dreaming of a 
 certain pair of eyes in the upper part of Broadway, 
 I was awakened by a footstep on the outside of the 
 cabin. I brushed open my eyes, but could see 
 nothing but the faint glimmer of an expiring ember 
 on the hearth. I held my breath and listened for 
 the mysterious footsteps ; I heard it not, but some- 
 thing a little more exciting, — the scratching of a 
 huge paw upon our slender door. In an exceed- 
 ingly short time I roused my bed-fellows, and told 
 them what I had heard. They thought it must be 
 a wolf, and as we were afraid to frighten him away, 
 yet anxious to take his hide, it was resolved that I 
 should hold a match, and the farmer should fire 
 his rifle in the direction of the mysterious noise, 
 which operation was duly performed. A large pine 
 
 m 
 
 h 
 
 ■f^ 
 
84 
 
 WILD MELODY. 
 
 •^' 
 
 torch was then hghted, the rifle reloaded, and the 
 heroes of the adventure marched into the outer hall 
 of the cabin, where we found a few drops of blood, 
 and the muddy tracks of what we supposed to be a 
 wild cat. The rifleman and myself then commis- 
 sioned the fiddler to make a fire, when we again 
 threw ourselves upon the hemlock couch. 
 
 The fiddler attended faithfully to his duty, and 
 in less than twenty minutes he had kindled a tre- 
 mendous blaze. The brilliant and laughing flame 
 had such an exhilarating influence upon his nerves, 
 that he seized his instrument and commenced 
 playing, partly for the purpose of keeping off the 
 wild animals, but mostly for his own amusement. 
 Then laying aside his fiddle, he began to sing a 
 variety of uncouth as well as plaintive songs, one of 
 which was vague but mournful in sentiment, and 
 more wild in melody, as I thought at the time, than 
 anything I had ever before heard. I could not find 
 out by whom it was written, or what was its exact 
 import, but in the lonely place where we were 
 sleeping, and at that hour, it made a very deep 
 impression on my mind. The burthen of the song 
 was as follows, and was in keeping with the picture 
 which the minstrel, the fire-light, and the rude 
 cabin presented. 
 
MOUUNFUL SONG. 
 
 85 
 
 *' We parted in silence, we parted at night, 
 On the hanks of that lonely river ; 
 Where the shadowy trees their houghs unite 
 We met, and we parted for ever; — 
 The night hird sang, and the stars ahove 
 Told many a touching story, 
 Of friends long passed to the mansions of rest, 
 Where the soul wears her mantle of glory. 
 
 " We parted in silence, our cheeks were wet 
 By the tears that were past controlling ;— 
 We vowed we would never, no never forget, 
 And those vows at the time were consoling ; — 
 But the lips that echoed my vows 
 Are as cold as that lonely river. 
 The sparkling eye, the spirit's shrine 
 Has shrouded its fire for ever. 
 
 *' And now on the midnight sky I look, 
 My eyes grow full with weeping, — 
 Each star to me is a sealed book 
 Some tale of that loved one keeping. 
 We parted in silence, we parted in tears 
 On the banks of that lonely river. 
 But the odour and bloom of by-gone years 
 Shall hang o'er its waters for ever." 
 
 But sleep, the " dear mc .'^r of fresli thoughts 
 and joyous heaW soon folded the singer and his 
 listeners in her embrace, and with the rising sun 
 we entered upon the labours of another day. 
 While the fiddler prepared our breakfast, (out of 
 the few trout which certain beastly robbers had not 
 stolen during the night), the rifleman went out and 
 
 |. 
 
 Iti 
 
86 
 
 MOOSE LAKE. 
 
 killed a large hare, and I took a sketch of the 
 cabin where we had lodged. 
 
 After breakfast we shouldered our knapsacks and 
 started for the Hudson. We struck this noble river 
 at the embryo city of Tahawas where we lound a log 
 house and an unfinished saw-mill. Here we also 
 discovered a canoe which we boarded, and navigated 
 the stream to Lake Sanford. This portion of the 
 Hudson is not more than one hundi'ed feet broad, 
 but quite deep and picturesque. On leaving our 
 canoe we made our way up a mountain road, and 
 after walking about four miles, came out upon an 
 elevated clearing of some two hundred acres, in the 
 centre of which was a solitary log cabin with a reti- 
 nue of out-houses, — and this was the famous New- 
 comb Farm. 
 
 The attractions of this spot are manifold, for it 
 lies in the vicinity of Moose Lake and Lake Delia, 
 and commands the finest distant prospect of the 
 Adirondac Mountains, which has yet been dis- 
 covered. 
 
 Moose Lake lies at the west of the Farm, and 
 about six miles distant. It is embosomed among 
 mountains, and the fountain head of the Cold 
 River, which empties into the St. Lawrence. In 
 form it is so nearly round, that its entire shore may 
 be seen at one view; the bottom is covered with 
 
STEUDEN HEWITT. 
 
 87 
 
 white sane!, and the water is perfectly cold and 
 clear. Considering its size, it is said to contain 
 more trout than any lake in this wilderness ; and it 
 is also celebrated as a watering-place for deer and 
 moose. In fishing from the shore, one of our party 
 caught no less than forty pounds of trout in about 
 two hours. There were two varieties, and they 
 varied from one to three pounds in weight. 
 
 Our guide to this lake, where we encamped for 
 one night, was Steuben Hewitt, the keeper of 
 the Newcomb Farm, who is a hunter. This 
 woodsman got the notion into his head, that he 
 must have a venison steak for his banquet. We 
 had already seen some half dozen deer walking 
 along the opposite margin of the lake, but Steuben 
 told us that he would wait until after dark to cap- 
 ture his game. He also told us that the deer were 
 in the habit of visiting the wilder lakes of this 
 region at night, for the purpose of escaping the 
 tormenting flies ; and as he spoke so confidently of 
 what he intended to accomplish, we awaited his 
 effort with a degree of anxiety. 
 
 Soon as the quiet night had fairly set in, he 
 shipped himself on board a wooden canoe (a rickety 
 afi'air, originally bequeathed to this lake by some 
 departed Indian,) in the bow of which was a fire- 
 jack or torch-holder. Separating this machine 
 
 f . 
 
 :i:i:' 
 
 B'^ 
 
 ''•'■ ' ' -111 
 
 :^; 
 
88 
 
 LAKE DELIA. 
 
 •is 
 
 from himself, as he sat in tlic centre of the canoe, 
 was a kind of screen made of bark, which was snfR- 
 ciently elevated to allow him to fire his gun from 
 underneath; and in this manner, with a loaded 
 rifle by his side, did he paddle into the lake. After 
 floating upon the water for one hour, in perfect 
 silence, he finally heard a splashing near the shore, 
 and immediately lighting his torch, he noiselessly 
 ])rocecded in the direction of the sound, where he 
 discovered a beautiful deer standing knee-deep in 
 the water, and looking at him in stupified wonder. 
 The poor creature could see nothing before it but 
 the mysterious light, and while standing in the 
 most interesting attitude imaginable, the hunter 
 raised his rifle and shot it through the heart. In 
 half an hour from that time the carcass of the deer 
 was hanging from a dry limb near our camp fire, 
 and I was lecturing the hard-hearted hunter on the 
 cruelty of thus capturing the innocent creatures of 
 the forest. To all my remarks, however, he replied, 
 " They were given to us for food, and it matters not 
 how we kill them." 
 
 Lake Delia, through which you have to pass in 
 going to Moose Lake, lies about two miles west of 
 the Newcomb Farm. It is four miles long, and 
 less than one mile in width, and completely sur- 
 rounded with wood-crowned hills. Near the central 
 
 JCS^ I 
 
 f*^«8w»«TOeOTiw 
 
OTTER SHOOTING. 
 
 89 
 
 porth»n this lake is quite narrow, and so shallow 
 that a rude bridge has been thrown across for the 
 accommodation of the farm people. The water 
 under this bridge is only about four feet deep, and 
 this was tie only spot in the lake where I followed 
 my favorite recreation. I visited it on one occasion 
 with my companions, late in the afternoon, when 
 the wind was blowing, and we enjoyed rare sport in 
 angling for salmon-trout, as well as a large species 
 of the common trout. I do not know the number 
 that we took, but I well remember that we had 
 more than we could conveniently carry. Usually, 
 the salmon-trout are only taken in deep water, but 
 in this and Moose Lake, they seem to be as much at 
 home in shallow as in deep water. 
 
 On one occasion I visited Lake Delia alone, at 
 an early hour of the morning. It so happened, 
 that I took a rifle along with me, and while quietly 
 throwing my fly on the old bridge, I had an oppor- 
 tunity of using the gun to some purpose. My 
 movements in that lonely place were so exceedingly 
 still, that even the wild animals were not disturbed 
 by my presence; for while I stood there, a large 
 fat otter made his appearance, and when he came 
 within shooting distance, I gave him the contents 
 of my gun, and he disappeared. I related the 
 adventure to my companions on my retura to the 
 
 «' 
 
 i}it 
 
 'f? ••? 
 
90 
 
 NEWCOMB FARM. 
 
 Farm, but they pronounced it a " fish story." 
 I finally vindicated my veracity, however, for, on 
 the following day, they discovered a dead otter on 
 the lake shore, and concluded that I had told the 
 truth. 
 
 I must not conclude this chapter without giving 
 my reader an additional paragraph about the New- 
 comb Farm. My friend Steuben Hewitt's L.arest 
 neighbour is eight miles ofi^, and as his family is 
 small, you may suppose that he leads a retired life. 
 One of the days that I spent at his house, was 
 an eventful one with him, for a town election was 
 held there. The electors met at nine o'clock, and 
 the poll closed at five ; and as the number of votes 
 polled was seven, it may well be supposed that the 
 excitement was intense. 
 
 But, with all its loneliness, the Ne comb Farm 
 is well worth visiting, if for no other \ irpose than 
 to witness the panorama of mountai s which it 
 commands. On every side but one, hey may be 
 seen fading away to mingle their deep k.. e with the 
 lighter hue of the sky ; but chief among them all is 
 old Tahawas, king of the Adirondacs. 
 
 The country out of which this mountain rises is 
 an imposing Alpine wilderness ; and as it has long 
 since been abandoned by the red man, the solitude 
 of its deep valleys and lonely lakes, for the most 
 
RIDICULOUS CHANGE. 
 
 91 
 
 partj is now more impressive than that of the far-off 
 Rocky Mountains. 
 
 The meaning of the Indian word Tahawas^ is Sky 
 Piercer, or Sky Splitter, and faithfully describes the 
 appearance of the mountain. Its actual elevation^ 
 above the level of the sea, is five thousand four 
 hundred and sixty-seven feet, while that of Mount 
 Washington, in New Hampshire, is only six thou- 
 sand two hundred and thirty-four; making a dif- 
 ference of only seven hundred and sixty-seven feet 
 in favour of Washington. Though Tahawas is not 
 so lofty as its New England brother, yet its form 
 is by far the most picturesque and imposing. Taken 
 together, they are the highest pair of mountains in 
 the United States. 
 
 Before going one step farther, I must allude to 
 what I deem the folly of a certain state geologist, in 
 attempting to name the prominent peaks of the 
 Adirondac Mountains after a brotherhood of living 
 men. If he is to have his way in this matter, the 
 beautiful name of Tahawas will be superseded by 
 that of Marcy, and several of Tahawas' peers are 
 hereafter to be known as Mounts Seward, Wright, 
 and Young. Now if this business is not supremely 
 ridiculous, I must confess that I do not know the 
 meaning of that word. A pretty idea, indeed, to 
 scatter to the winds the ancient poetry of the poor 
 
 1 1 ii 
 
 tif 
 
92 
 
 OLD TAHAWAS. 
 
 Indian^ and perpetuate in its place the names of 
 living politicians. For my part, I agree most 
 decidedly with the older inhabitants of the Adiron- 
 dac wilderness, who look with perfect indifference 
 upon the attempted usurpation of the geologist 
 already mentioned. 
 
 For nine months in the year, old Tahawas is 
 covered with a crown of snow, but there are spots 
 among its fastnesses where you may gather ice and 
 snow, even in the dog-days. The base of this 
 mountain is covered with a luxuriant forest of pine, 
 spruce and hemlock, while the summit is clothed 
 in a net-work of creeping trees, and almost entirely 
 destitute of the green which should characterize 
 them. In ascending its sides, when near the 
 summit, you are impressed with the idea that your 
 pathway may be smooth ; but as you proceed, you are 
 constantly annoyed by pit-falls, into which your 
 legs are foohshly poking themselves, to the great 
 annoyance of your back-bone, and other portions of 
 your body, which are naturally straight. , ; 
 
 I ascended Tahawas, as a matter of course, and in 
 making the trip I travelled some twenty miles, on 
 foot and through the pathless woods, employing for 
 the same the better part of two days. My com- 
 panion on this expedition was John Cheney (of 
 whom I have something to write hereafter), and as 
 
 -^&, 
 
PERSEVERING TRAVELLERS. 
 
 93 
 
 
 he did not consider it prudent to spend the night 
 on the summit, we only spent about one hour 
 gazing upon the panorama from the top, and then 
 descended about half way down the mountain, 
 where we built our watch-fire. The view from 
 Tahawas is rather unique. It looks down upon 
 what appears to be an uninhabited wilderness, with 
 mountains fading to the sky in every direction, 
 and where, on a clear day, you may count no 
 less than twenty-four lakes, including Champlain, 
 Horicon, Long Lake, and Lake Pleasant. 
 
 While trying to go to sleep on the night in ques- 
 tion, as I lay by the side of my friend Cheney, he 
 gave me an account of the manner in which certain 
 distinguished gentlemen had ascended Mount Taha- 
 was, for it must be known that he officiates as the 
 guide of all travellers in this wild region. Among 
 those to whom he alluded, were Ingham and Cole, 
 the artists, and Hoffman and Headley, the travel- 
 lers. He told me that Mr. Ingham fainted a 
 number of times in making the ascent, but became 
 so excited with all that he saw, he determined to 
 persevere, and finally succeeded in accomplishing 
 the difficult task. Mr. Hoffman, he said, in spite 
 of his lameness, would not be persuaded by words 
 that he could not reach the summit ; and when he 
 finally discovered that the task was utterly beyond 
 
 I* r 
 
 ii' 
 
 A 
 
 ¥ 
 
 
94 
 
 A STORM. 
 
 his accomplishment, his disappointment seemed to 
 have no bounds. 
 
 The night that I spent on Tahawas was not dis- 
 tinguished by any event more remarkable than a 
 regular rain-storm. Our canopy was composed 
 of hemlock branches, and our only covering was a 
 blanket. The storm did not set in until about mid- 
 night, and my first intimation of its approach was 
 the falling of rain-drops directly into my ear, as I 
 snugged up to my bed-fellow, for the purpose of 
 keeping warm. Desperate indeed were the efforts 
 I made to forget my condition in sleep, as the 
 rain fell more abundantly, and drenched me, as 
 well as my companion, to the very skin. The 
 thunder bellowed as if in the enjoyment of a very 
 happy frolic, and the lightning seemed determined 
 to root up a few trees in our immediate vicinity, 
 as if for the purpose of giving us more room. 
 Finally Cheney rose from his pillow (which was a 
 log of wood), and proposed that we should quaff 
 a httle brandy, to keep us from catching cold, 
 which we did, and then made another attempt to 
 reach the land of Nod. 
 
 % ){( )ic * 
 
 At the break of day, we were awakened from 
 a short but refreshing sleep by the singing of 
 birds; and when the cheerful sunlight had reached 
 
,1 ♦ 
 
 THE PASS. 
 
 95 
 
 the bottom of the ravines, we were enjoy- 
 ing a comfortable breakfast in the cabin of my 
 friend. 
 
 The principal attractions, associated with Tahawas 
 are the Indian Pass, the Adirondac Lakes, the 
 Adirondac Iron Works, and the mighty hunter of 
 the Adirondacs, John Cheney. The Pass, so called, 
 is only an old-fashioned notch between the moun- 
 tains. On one side is a perpendicular precipice, 
 rising to the height of eleven hundred feet ; and, 
 on the other, a wood-covered mountain, ascending 
 far up into the sky, at an angle of forty-five 
 degrees. Through this Pass flows a tiny rivulet, 
 over which the rocks are so thickly piled, as fre- 
 quently to form pitfalls, that measure from ten 
 to thirty feet in depth. Some of these holes are 
 never destitute of ice, and are cool and comfortable 
 even at midsummer. The Pass is nearly half a 
 mile in length, and, at one point, certain immense 
 boulders have come together and formed a cavern, 
 which is called the " meeting house," and is, per- 
 haps, capable of containing a thousand people. The 
 rock on either side of the Pass, is a grey granite, and 
 its only inhabitants are eagles, which are very 
 abundant, and occupy the most conspicuous crag in 
 the notch. 
 
 ; !■■,! 
 
 . i! 
 
 ■'i' i 
 
 * ,; ■*.■ 
 
96 
 
 EXTENSIVE IRON WORKS. 
 
 The two principal lakes which gem the Adirondac 
 wilderness are named Sanford and Henderson, after 
 the two gentlemen who first purchased land upon 
 their borders. The former is five miles in length, 
 and the latter somewhat less than three, both of 
 them varying in width from half a mile to a mile 
 and a half. The mountains which swoop down to 
 their bosoms are covered with forest, and abound in 
 a great variety of large game. There is not, to my 
 knowledge, a single habitation on either of the lakes, 
 and the only smoke ever seen to ascend from their 
 lonely recesses, comes from the watch-fire of the 
 hunter, or the encampment of surveyors and 
 tourists. The water of these lakes is cold and 
 deep, and moderately supplied with salmon trout. 
 Lake Henderson is admirably situated for the 
 exciting sport of deer-hunting, and though it con- 
 tains two or three canoes, cannot be entered from 
 the West Branch of the Hudson without making 
 a portage. 
 
 Through Lake Sanford, however, the Hudson 
 takes a direct course, and there is nothing 
 to impede the passage of a small boat to within 
 a mile of the Iron Works, which are situated 
 in a valley between the two lakes. The fact 
 is, during the summer, there is an extensive 
 
 i 
 
ON LAKE SANFORD. 
 
 97 
 
 
 t 
 
 business done on Lake Sanford, in the way of 
 "bringing in" merchandize, and "carrying out" 
 the produce of the Forge. It was my misfor- 
 tune to make the inward passage of the Lake 
 in company with two ignorant Irishmen. Their 
 boat was small, heavily laden, very old and 
 leaky. This was ray only chance, and on 
 taking my seat with a palpitating heart, I made 
 an express bargain with the men that they should 
 keep along the shore on their way up. They 
 assented to my wishes, but immediately pulled for 
 the very centre of the lake. I remonstrated, but 
 they told me there was no danger. The boat was 
 now rapidly filling with water, and though one 
 was bailing with all his might, the rascals were 
 determined not to accede to my wishes. The con- 
 clusion of the matter was, that our shallop became 
 water-logged ; and on finally going ashore, the mer- 
 chandize was greatly damaged, and I was just 
 about as wet as I was angry at the miserable 
 creatures, whose obstinacy had not only greatly 
 injured their employers, but also endangered my 
 own plunder as well as my life. 
 
 The Iron Works alluded to above are located in a 
 narrow valley, and in the immediate vicinity of 
 Lake Henderson at a place called Mclntyre. 
 
 >.i y 
 
 I'f 
 
 
98 
 
 IRON MANUFACTORY 
 
 Sometime in the year 1830, a couple of Scotch 
 gentlemen, named Henderson and Mclntyre, pur- 
 chased a large tract of wild land lying in this 
 portion of New York. In the summer following, 
 they passed through this wilderness on an -Exploring 
 expedition, and, with the assistance of their Indian 
 guide, discovered that the bed of the valley in ques- 
 tion was literally blocked up with iron ore. On 
 making farther investigations, they found that the 
 whole rocky region about them was composed of 
 valuable mineral, and they subsequently established 
 a regular built Iron Establishment, which has been 
 in operation ever since. A gentleman named 
 Robinson afterwards purchased an interest in the 
 concern, and it is now carried on by him and 
 Mr. Mclntyre, though the principal stock-holders 
 are the wife and son of Mr. Henderson, de- 
 ceased. 
 
 The metal manufactured by this company is of 
 the very best quality of bar-iron ; and an establish- 
 ment is now in progress of erection at Tahawas, 
 twelve miles down the river, where a party of Eng- 
 lish gentlemen intend to manufacture every variety 
 of steel. The Iron Works give employment to about 
 one hundred and fifty men, whose wages vary from 
 one dollar to four dollars ^per day. The society of 
 
AT TAHAWAS. 
 
 99 
 
 the place, you may well imagine, is decidedly 
 original; but the prominent individual, and only 
 remarkable man who resides here, is John Cheney, 
 the mighty himter of the Adirondacs. For an 
 account of this man, the reader will please look into 
 the following chapter. 
 
 III. 
 
 ill 
 
 V ■ 
 
 i 
 
100 
 
 JOHN CHENEY. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. • 
 
 John Cheney, the Adirondac hunter, and some of his exploits. 
 
 John Cheney's Cabin. June. 
 
 John Cheney was born in ^ew Hampshire, but 
 spent his boyhood on the shores of Lake Champlain, 
 and has resided in the Adirondac wilderness about 
 thirteen years. He has a wife and one child, and 
 lives in a comfortable cabin in the wild village of 
 Mclntyre. His profession is that of a hunter, and 
 he is in the habit of spending about one half of 
 his time in the woods. He is a remarkably amiable 
 and intelhgent man, and as unlike the idea I had 
 formed of him, as possible. I expected, from all 
 that I had heard, to see a huge, powerful and hairy 
 Nimrod ; but instead of such, I found him small 
 in stature, and bearing more the appearance of a 
 modest and thoughtful student. 
 
 The walls of his cosy little house, containing one 
 
JOHN CHENEY. 
 
 101 
 
 principal room, are ornamented with a large printed 
 sheet of the Declaration of Independence, and two 
 engraved portraits of Washington and Jackson. 
 Of guns and pistols he has an abundant supply, 
 and also a good stock of all the conveniences for 
 camping among the mountains. He keeps one 
 cow, which supplies his family with all the milk 
 they need; but his favourite animals are a couple of 
 hunting dogs named Buck and Tiger. 
 
 As summer is not the time to accomplish much 
 in the way of hunting, my adventures with John 
 Cheney have not been distinguished by any stirring 
 events ; we have, however, enjoyed some rare sport 
 in the way of fishing, and obtained many glorious 
 views from the mountain peaks of this region. But 
 the conversation of this famous Nimrod has inte- 
 rested me exceedingly, and wherever we might be, 
 under his own roof, or by the side of our mountain 
 watch-fires, I have kept him busy in recounting his 
 former adventures. 1 copied into my note-book 
 nearly everything he said, and now present my 
 readers with a few extracts relating to his hunting 
 exploits. I shall use his own words as nearly as 
 
 I can remember them. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 " I was always fond of hunting, and the first animal 
 I killed was a fox j I was then ten years of age. 
 
 
 u: 
 
 
102 
 
 EXTRACTS FROM 
 
 Even from childhood I was so in love with the woods 
 that I uol, only neglected school but was constantly 
 borrowing a gun, or stealing the one belonging to 
 my father, with which to follow my favourite amuse- 
 ment. He finally found it a useless business to 
 make a decent boy of me, and in a fit of desperation 
 he one day presented me with a common fowling 
 piece. I was the youngest of thirteen children, and 
 was always called the black sheep of the family. I 
 have always enjoyed good health, and am forty-seven 
 years of age ; but I have now passed my prime, and 
 don't care about exposing myself to any useless 
 dangers. 
 
 * ♦ ♦ # 
 
 " You ask me if I ever hunt on Sunday : no. 
 Sir, I do notj I have always been able to kill 
 enough on week days to give me a comfortable 
 living. Since I came to live among the Adirondacs, 
 I have killed six hundred deer, four hundred sable, 
 nineteen moose, twenty-eight bears, six wolves, seven 
 wild cats, thirty otter, one panther and one beaver, 
 1* ♦ « ♦ 
 
 " As to that beaver, I was speaking about, it took 
 me three years to capture him, for he was an old 
 fellow, and remarkably cunning. He was the last, 
 from all that I can learn, that was ever taken in the 
 State. One of the Long Lake Indians often 
 
MY NOTE-BOOK. 
 
 103 
 
 attempted to trap him, but without success; he 
 
 usually found his trap sprung, but could never get 
 
 a morsel of the beaver's tail ; and so it was with 
 
 me, too ; but I finally fixed a trap under the water, 
 
 near th^ entr-aiice to his dam, and it so happened 
 
 that he one (Uy stepped into it and was drowned. 
 * * i¥ « . 
 
 " I was going to tell you something about my 
 dogs — Buck and Tiger. I've raised some fifty of 
 this animal in my day, but I never owned such a 
 tormented smart one as that fellow Buck. I believe 
 there's a good deal of the English mastiff in him ; 
 but a keener eye than he carries in his head I never 
 saw. Only look at that breast of his, did yo\i ever 
 see a thicker or more solid one ? He's handsomely 
 spotted, as you may see ; but some of the deviUsh 
 Lake Pleasant Indians cut off his ears and tail about 
 a year ago, and he now looks rather odd. You may 
 not believe it, but I have seen a good many men, 
 who were not half as sensible as that very dog. 
 Whenever the fellow's hungry, he always seats him- 
 self at my feet and gives three short barks, which 
 is his way of telling me that he would like some 
 bread and meat. If the folks happen to be away 
 from home, and he feels a little sharp, he pays a 
 regular visit to all the houses in the village, and 
 after playing with the children, barks for a dry 
 
104 
 
 EXTRACTS FROM 
 
 crust, which he always receives, and then comes 
 back to his own Vome. He's a great favoui'ite 
 among the children, and IVe witnessed more than 
 one fight among the boys, because some wicked 
 little scamp had thrown a stone at him. When I 
 speak to him, he understands me just as well as 
 you do. I can wake him out of a sound sleep, and 
 by my saying, ' Buck, go up and kiss the baby,' he 
 will march directly to the cradle and lick the baby's 
 face. And the way he watches that baby, when 
 it's asleep, is perfectly curious; he'd tear you to 
 pieces in three minutes, if you were to try to take 
 it away. 
 
 "Buck is r "^ four years old, and though he's 
 helped me U itill several hundred deer, he never 
 lost one for me yet. Whenever I go a-hunting, 
 and don't want him along, I have only to say, 
 'Buck, you must not go,' and he remains quiet. 
 There's no use in chaining him, I tell you, for he 
 understands his business. This dog never starts 
 after a deer until I tell him to go, even if the 
 deer is in sight. Why, 'twas only the other day 
 that Tiger brought in a doe to Lake Golden, where 
 the two had a desperate fight within a hundred 
 yards of the spot where Buck and myself were 
 seated. I wanted to try the metal of Tiger, and 
 told Buck he must not stir, though I went up to 
 
MY NOTE-BOOK. 
 
 105 
 
 the deer to see what the result would be between 
 the fighters. Buck didn't move out of his tracks ; 
 but the way he howled for a little taste of blood 
 was perfectly awful. I almost thought the fellow 
 would die in his agony. Buck is of great use to 
 me when I am off hunting, in more ways than 
 one. If I happen to be lost in a snow-storm, 
 which is sometimes the case, I only have to tell 
 him tc go home, and if I follow his track I am 
 sure to come out in safety ; and when sleeping in 
 the woods at night, I never have any other pillow 
 than Buck's body. ' 
 
 " As to my black dog Tiger, he isn't quite two 
 years old yet, but he's going to make a great 
 hunter. I am trying hard, now-a-days, to break 
 him of a very foolish habit of killing porcupines. 
 Not only does he attack every one he sees, but 
 he goes out to hunt them, and often comes home, 
 all covered with their quills. It was only the other 
 day, that he came home with about twenty quills 
 working their way into his snout. It so happened, 
 however, that they did not kill him, because he 
 let me pull them all out with a pair of pincers, 
 and that, too, without budging an inch. About 
 the story people tell, that the porcupine throws it 
 quills, I can tell you it's no such thing; it's only 
 
 F 3 
 
 
 
 , i'. 
 
 I 
 
 
106 
 
 B:xtRACTS FROM 
 
 when the quills touch the dog, that they come 
 out and work their way through his hody." ^ , 
 
 ^' As to deer hunting, I can tell you more stories 
 in that line than you'd care about hearing. They 
 have several ways of killing ^em in this quarter, 
 and some of these ways are so infernal mean, Fm 
 sui-prised that there should be any deer left in 
 the country. In the first place, there's the 'still 
 hunting' fashion, where you lay in ambush near 
 a salt lick and shoot the poor creatures, when 
 they're not thinking of you. And there's the 
 beastly manner of blinding them with a 'torch 
 light' when they come into the lakes to cool 
 themselves, and get away from the Hies, during 
 the warm nights of summer. Now I say, that 
 no decent man will take this advantage of wild 
 game, unless he is in a starving condition. The 
 only manly way to kill deer is by ' driving' them, 
 as I do, with a couple of hounds. 
 
 " There isn't a creature in this whole wilderness 
 that I think so much of as the deer. They are so 
 beautiful, with their bright eyes, graceful necks, 
 and sinewy legs. And they are so swift, and 
 make such splendid leaps when hard pressed ; why, 
 I've seen a buck jump from a clifi" that was forty 
 
MY NOTE-BOOK. 
 
 107 
 
 feet high, and that, too, without injuring a hair. 
 I wish I could get my living without killing this 
 beautiful animal ! but I must live, and I suppose 
 they were made to die. The cry of the deer, when 
 in the agonies of death, is the awfullest sound I 
 ever heard ; I'd a good deal rather hear the scream 
 of the panther, provided I have a ball in my pistol, 
 and the pistol is in my hand. I wish they would 
 never speak so. 
 
 " The time for taking deer is in the fall and 
 winter. It's a curious fact, that when a deer is 
 at all frightened, he cannot stand upon smooth ice, 
 while, at the same time, when n, t afraid of being 
 caught, he will not only walk, but actually trot 
 across a lake, as smooth as glass. It's a glorious 
 sight to see them running down the mountains, 
 with the dogs howling behind; but I don't think 
 I ever saw a more beautiful race than I once did 
 on Lake Henderson, between a buck deer, and my 
 dog Buck, when the lake was covered with a 
 light fall of snow. I had put Buck upon a fresh 
 track, and was waiting for him on the lake shore ; 
 presently, a splendid deer bounded out of the 
 woods upon the ice, and as the dog was only a 
 few paces off, he led the race directly across the 
 lake. Away they ran, as if a hurricane was after 
 them, crossed the lake, then back again, they then 
 
 ■I br 
 
 ii 
 
 ^m 
 
108 
 
 EXTBACTS PROM 
 
 made another wheel, and having run to the extreme 
 southern point of the Lake, again returned, when 
 the deer's wind gave out, and the dog caught and 
 threw the creature, into whose throat I soon 
 plunged my knife, and the race was ended. 
 
 "I never was so badly hurt in hunting any 
 animal as I have been in hunting deer. It was 
 while chasing a buck on Cheney's Lake, (which 
 was named after me, by Mr. Henderson, in com- 
 memoration of my escape), that I once shot myself 
 in a veiy bad way. I was in a canoe, and had 
 laid my pistol down by my side, when, as I was 
 pressing hard upon the animal, my pistol slipped 
 under me in some queer way, and went off, 
 sending a ball into my leg just above the ankle, 
 which came out just below the knee. I knew some- 
 thing teiTible had happened, and though I thought 
 that I might die, I was determined that the deer 
 should die first ; and I did succeed in killing him 
 before he reached the shore. But soon as the 
 excitement was over, the pain I had felt before 
 was increased a tliousand fold, and I felt as if 
 all the devils in h — ^11 were dragging at my leg, 
 the weight and the agony were so great. I had 
 never suffered so before, and I thought it strange. 
 You may not believe it, but when that accident 
 happened I was fourteen miles from home, and 
 
MY NOTE-BOOK. 
 
 109 
 
 yet, even with that used-up leg, I succeeded in 
 reaching my home, where I was confined to my 
 bed from October until April. That was a great 
 winter for hunting which I missed, but my leg 
 got entirely well, and is now as good as ever. 
 
 " The most savage animal that I hunt for among 
 these mountains is the moose, or caraboo, as Fve 
 heard some people call them. They're quite plenty 
 in the region of Long Lake and Lake Pleasant; 
 and if the hunter don't understand their ways, he'll 
 be likely to get killed before he thinks of his danger. 
 The moose is the largest animal of the deer kind, 
 or, in fact, of any kind that we find in this part of 
 the country. His horns are very large, and usually 
 look like a pair of crab-apple trees. He has a long 
 head, long legs, and makes a great noise when he 
 travels; his flesh is considered first rate, for he 
 feeds upon grass, and the tender buds of the moose 
 maple ; he is a rapid traveller, and hard to tire out. 
 In winter they run in herds ; and whe the snow is 
 deep, they generally live in one particular place in 
 the woods, which we call a " yard." The crack 
 time for killing them is in the winter, when we can 
 travel on the snow with our braided snow-shoes. 
 
 " I once killed two moose before nine o'clock in the 
 
 m 
 -f." 
 
 '& 
 
 * Si 
 
 I 
 
110 
 
 EXTRACTS FROM 
 
 morning. I had been out a-hunting for two days, 
 in the winter, and when night came, I had to camp 
 out near the foot of Old Tahawas. When I got up 
 in the morning, and was about to start for home, I 
 discovered a yard, where lay a couple of bull moose. 
 I don't know what they were thinking about, but 
 just as soon as they saw me, they jumped up and 
 made directly towards the place where I was stand- 
 ing. I couldn't get clear of their ugly feet 
 without running; so I put for a large dead tree 
 that had blown over, and walking to the butt of it, 
 which was some ten feet high, looked down ixi 
 safety upon the devils. They seemed to be very 
 mad about something, and did everything they 
 could to get at me by running around; and I 
 remember they ran together, as if they had been 
 yoked. I waited for a good chance to shoot, and 
 when I got it, I fired a ball clean through one 
 of the animals into the shoulder of the second, 
 The first one dropt dead as a door-nail, but the 
 other took to his heels, and after going about 
 fifty rods, concluded to lie down. I then came 
 up to him, keeping my dogs back, for the purprse 
 of sticking him, when he jumped up again, and 
 put after me like lightning. I ran to a big stump, 
 and after I had fairly fixed myself, I loaded again, 
 
 I 
 
MY NOTE-BOOK. 
 
 Ill 
 
 and again fired, when the fellow tumbled in the 
 snow quite dead. He was eight feet high, and 
 a perfect roarer. 
 
 ^ ^ V' V 
 
 " Another animal that we sometimes find pretty 
 plenty in these woods, is the big grey wolf; they 
 are savage fellows, and dangerous to meet when 
 angry. On getting up early one winter morning, 
 I noticed in the back part of my garden, what I 
 thought to be a wolf-track. I got my gun, called 
 for my dog, and started on the hunt. I found the 
 fellow in his den among the mountains. I kindled 
 a fire and smoked him out. I then chased him 
 for about two miles, when he came to bay. He 
 was a big fellow, and my dogs were afraid to 
 clinch in; dogs hate a wolf worse than any 
 other animal. I found I had a fair chance, so 
 I fired at the creature, but my gun missed fire. 
 The wolf then attacked me, and in striking him 
 with my gun, I broke it all to pieces. I was in a 
 bad fix, I tell you, but I immediately threw myself 
 on my back with my snow-shoes above me, when 
 the wolf jumped right on to my body, and probably 
 would have killed me had it not been for my dog 
 Buck, who worried the wolf so boldly that the devil 
 left me to fight the dog. While they were fighting 
 with all their might, I jumped up, took the barrel 
 
lii 
 
 EXTRACTS FROM 
 
 of my gun and settled it right into the brain of the 
 savage animal. That was the largest wolf ever 
 killed in this wilderness. • ^ 
 
 " One of the hardest fights I ever had in these 
 woods, was with a black bear. I was coming from 
 a winter hunt : the snow was very deep, and I had 
 on my snow-shoes. It so happened, as I was 
 coming down a certain mountain, the snow sud- 
 denly gave way under me, and I fell into the hole, 
 or winter-quarters of one of the blackest and largest 
 bears I ever saw. The fellow was just about as 
 much frightened as I was, and he scampered out 
 of the den in a great hurry. I was veiy tired, and 
 had only one dog with me at the time, but I put 
 after him. I had three smart battles with him, and 
 in one of them he struck my hand with such 
 force, as to send my gun at least twenty or thirty 
 feet from where we stood. I finally managed to 
 kill the rascal, however ; but not until he had almost 
 destroyed the life of my dog. That was a noble 
 dog, but in that battle the poor fellow received 
 his death-wound. He couldn't walk at the time ; 
 and though I was nine miles from home, I took 
 him up in my arms and brought him ; but with 
 all my nursing, I could not get him up again, for 
 
1 
 
 MY NOTE-BOOK. 
 
 113 
 
 he died at the end of a few weeks. That dog was 
 one of the best friends I ever had. 
 
 >|( III iH lit 
 
 " But the most dangerous animal in this country, 
 is the yellow panther, or painter. They are not 
 very plentiful, and so tormented cunning, that 
 it's very seldom you can kill one. They are very 
 ugly, but don't often attack a man unless cornered 
 or wounded. They look and act very much like 
 a cat, only that they are very large. I never killed 
 but one, and his body was five feet long, and his 
 tail between three and four. At night, their eyes 
 look like balls of fire; and when they are after game, 
 they make a hissing noise, which is very dreadful 
 to hear. Their scream is also very terrible ; and 
 I never saw the man who was anxious to hear 
 it more than once. They are seldom hunted as 
 a matter of business, but usually killed by acci- 
 dent. 
 
 " The panther I once killed, I came across in this 
 manner. I was out on Lake Henderson with two 
 men, catching fish through the ice, when we saw 
 two wolves come on to the ice in great haste, 
 looking and acting as if they had been pursued. 
 I proposed to the men that we should all go and 
 kill them, if we could. They wanted to fish, or 
 were a little afraid, so I took my gun and started 
 
 1 
 
 1 1 
 
 I 
 
114 
 
 EXTRACTS. 
 
 after the game. I followed them some distance^ 
 when, as they were scaling a ledge, they were attacked 
 by a big panther, and a bloody fight took place. 
 From the appearance of the animals, I supposed 
 that they had met before, which was the cause why 
 the wolves came upon the lake. During the scuffle 
 between the animals, it is a singular fact, that they 
 all three tumbled off the precipice, and fell through 
 the air, about one hundred feet. The wolves 
 jumped up and ran away, while the panther started 
 in another direction. I followed his track, and 
 after travelling a number of hours overtook him, 
 and managed to shoot him through the shoulder. 
 He then got into a tree, and as he was lashing 
 his tail, and getting ready to pounce upon me, I 
 gave him another ball, and he fell to the earth 
 with a crash, and was quite dead. I then went to 
 the Lake, and got the men to help me home with 
 my booty.'' 
 
 i 
 
BURLINGTON. 
 
 115 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Burlington — Lake Champlain — Distinguislied Men 
 
 Burlington. June. 
 
 Op all the towns which I have ever seen, Bur- 
 lington in Vermont is decidedly one of the most 
 beautiful. It stands on the shore of Lake Champ- 
 lain, and from the water to its eastern extremity is 
 a regular elevation, which rises to the height of 
 some three hundred feet. Its streets are broad and 
 regularly laid out, the generality of its buildings 
 elegant, and its inhabitants well educated, refined, 
 and wealthy. My visit here is now about to close, 
 and I cannot but follow the impulses of my heart, 
 by giving my reader a brief account of its principal 
 picturesque attraction, and some information con- 
 cerning a few of its public men. 
 
 As a matter of course, my first subject is Lake 
 
 
116 
 
 LAKE CHAMPLAIN. 
 
 )i 
 
 1 1: ■ 
 
 i\ 
 
 .1 i 
 
 Champlain. In approaching it from the south, 
 and particularly from Horicon, one is apt to form a 
 wrong opinion of its picturesque features ; but you 
 cannot pass through it without being lavish in its 
 praise. It extends, in a straight line from south to 
 north, somewhat over a hundred miles, and lies 
 between the States of Vermont and New York. It 
 is the gateway between the country on the St. Law- 
 rence and that on the Hudson, and it is therefore 
 extensively navigated by vessels and steam-boats. 
 It is surrounded with flourishing villages, whose 
 population is generally made up of New Englanders 
 and Canadians. Its width varies from half a mile 
 to thirteen, but its waters are muddy, excepting in 
 the vicinity of Burlington. Its islands are not 
 numerous, but one of them. Grand Isle, is suffi- 
 ciently large to support four villages. Its scenery 
 may be denominated bold; on the west are the 
 Adirondac Mountains ; and at some distance on the 
 east, the beautiful Green Mountains, whose gloriou 
 commanders are Mansfield Mountain and the Camel's 
 Hump. Owing to the width of the Lake at Bur- 
 lington, and the beauty of the western mountains, 
 the sunsets that are here visible, are exceedingly 
 superb. 
 
 The classic associations of this Lake are uncom- 
 monly interesting. Here are the moss-covered 
 
RUINS OP TICONDEROOA. 
 
 117 
 
 ruins of Ticonderoga and Crown Point, whose 
 present occupants are the snake, the lizard, and 
 toad. Leaden and iron balls, broken bayonets, and 
 
 Nit" 
 
 RUINS OF TICONDEROOA. 
 
 English flints, have I picked up on their ramparts, 
 which I cannot look upon without thinking of 
 death-struggles and the horrible shout of rar. 
 And there too is Plattsburg, in whose waters Com- 
 modore McDonough vindicated the honour of the 
 Stars and Stripes of Freedom. 
 
 As to the fishing of this Lake, I have but a word 
 to say. Excepting trout, almost every variety of 
 fresh-water fish is found here in abundance; but 
 the water is not pure, which is ever a serious draw- 
 back to my enjoyment in wetting the line. Lake 
 
 ' n 
 
 
 J' 
 
118 
 
 JOSEPH TORRBY. 
 
 i& 
 
 Champlain received its present name from a French 
 nobleman, who discovered it in 1609, and who died 
 at Quebec in 1635. 
 
 The associations I am now to speak of, are of a 
 personal character ; and the first, of the three names 
 before me, is that of Joseph Torrey, the present 
 Professor of Moral and Intellectual Philosophy m 
 the University of Vermont. As a citizen, he is one 
 of the most amiable and beloved of men. As one 
 of the faculty of the University, he occupies a high 
 rank, and is a particular favourite with all his 
 students. A pleasing evidence of tlie latter fact I 
 noticed a few days since, when it was reported 
 among the students that the Professor had returned 
 from a visit to the Springs for his health. I was in 
 company with some half dozen of them at the time, 
 and these are the remarks they made : " How is 
 his health V " I hope he has improved I^' " Now 
 shall 1 be happy ; for ever since he went away, the 
 recitation-room has been a cheerless place to me." 
 " Now shall I be advised as to my essay \" " Now 
 shall my poem be corrected!" "Now, in my 
 troubles, shall I have the sympathies of a true 
 friend I" Much more meaning is contained in 
 these simple phrases than what meets the eye. 
 Surely, if any man is to be envied, it is he who 
 has a place in the affections of all who know him. 
 
 a 
 
JOSEPH TORREY. 
 
 119 
 
 As a scholar, too, Professor Torrey occupies an 
 exalted station, as will be proved to the world in 
 due time. He has never published anything but 
 an occasional article for a review, and the Memoir 
 of President Marsh, (who was his predecessor in 
 the University), as contained in the admirable 
 volume of his Remains, which should occupy a con- 
 spicuous place in the library of every American 
 scholar and Christian. 
 
 The memoir is indeed a rare specimen of tha 
 kind of writing, beautifully written, and pervaded 
 by a spirit of r(^finement that is delightful. But 
 I was mostly interested in Mr. Torrey as a man of 
 taste in the Fine Arts. In everything but the 
 mere execution, he is a genuine artist, and long 
 may I remember the counsels of his experience and 
 knowledge. A course of Lectures on the Arts forms 
 a portion of his instruction as Professor; and I 
 trust that they will eventually be published, for 
 the benefit of our country. He has also translated, 
 from the German of Schelling, a most admirable 
 discourse, entitled " Relation of the Arts of Design 
 to Nature;" a copy of which ought to be in the 
 possession of every young artist. Mr. Torrey has 
 been an extensive traveller in Europe, and being 
 a lover and nn acute observer of everything con- 
 nected with Uterature and art, it is quite a luxury 
 
120 
 
 J. H. HOPKINS^ 
 
 to hear him expatiate upon " the wonders he has 
 
 11 
 
 seen. 
 
 f) 
 
 He also examines everything with the eye of a 
 philosopher ; and his conclusions are ever of prac- 
 tical utility. Not only can he analyze in a profound 
 manner the principles of metaphysical learning, but, 
 with the genuine feelings of a poet, descant upon 
 the triumphs of poetic genius, or point out the 
 mind-charms of a Claude or Titian. He is — but 
 I will not say all that I would, for I fear that at our 
 next meeting he would chide me for my boyish 
 personalities. Let me conclude then, reader, with 
 the advice, that, if you ever chance to meet the 
 Professor in your travels, you must endeavour to 
 secure an introduction, which I am sure you cannot 
 but ever remember with unfeigned pleasure. 
 
 John Henry Hopkins, D.D., Bishop of Vermont, 
 is another of the principal attractions of Burlington. 
 The history of his life, the expression of his counte- 
 nance, and his general deportment, all speak of the 
 "peace of God." Considering the number and 
 diversity of his acquirements, I think him a very 
 remarkable man. He is not only, in point of 
 character, well worthy of his exalted station as 
 Bishop, but as a theologian, learned and eloquent to 
 an uncommon degree. His contributions to the 
 world of Letters are of rare value, as he has pub- 
 
BISHOP OP VERMONT. 
 
 121 
 
 lished volumes entitled " Christianity Vindicated," 
 " The Primitive Church," " The Primitive Creed," 
 " The Church of Home," " British Reformation," 
 and " Letters to the Clergy." His style of writing 
 is persuasive, vigorous, and clear; and all his 
 conclusions seem to have been formed in full view 
 of the Bible, which is a virtue worth noticing in 
 these degenerate days. It is because of his honesty 
 and soundness, I suppose, that some of his own 
 church are disaffected with his straightforward 
 conduct. Bishop Hopkins, as a divine, is of the 
 same school with the late Bishop White, and there- 
 fore among the most eminently wise and good of 
 his age and country. 
 
 The Bishop of Vermont is also a man of remark- 
 able taste with regard to Architecture, Music, and 
 Painting; in which departments, as an amateur, 
 he has done himself great credit. Not only did 
 he ^.lan and superintend the building of an edifice 
 for his recent school, but has published an interest- 
 ing book on Architecture, wherein he appears to be 
 as much at home as if he were Christopher Wren. 
 Knowing the market to be fcdl of sentimental non- 
 sense in the way of songs, he composed, for the benefit 
 of his own children, a few with a moral tone, which 
 he also set to music, and are now published as a 
 worthy tribute to his fine feelings, and the correct- 
 
 
122 
 
 HON. G. P. MARSH. 
 
 ness of his ear. But he ranks still higher as a man 
 of taste in the capacity of a Painter. The Vermont 
 Drawing Book, which he puhlished, is an evidence 
 of his ability as a draughtsman. The family por- 
 traits which adorn his walls, prove him to have 
 an accurate eye for colour, and an uncommon know- 
 ledge of effect ; — his oil sketches of scenes from 
 nature, give token of an ardent devotion to nature. 
 But the best, in my opinion, of all his artistical 
 productions, is a picture representing " our Saviour 
 blessing little children.^' Its conception, grouping, 
 and execution, are all of very great merit, and I am 
 persuaded will one day be looked upon with peculiar 
 interest by the lovers and judges of art in this 
 country. Though done in water colours, and con- 
 sidered by the artist as a mere sketch for a larger 
 picture, there are some heads in it that would have 
 called forth a compliment even from the lamented 
 Allston. Would that he could be influenced to send 
 it, for exhibition, to our National Academy ! And 
 thus endeth my humble tribute of praise to a gifted 
 man. 
 
 I now come to the Hon. George P. Marsh, of 
 whom, if I were to follow the bent of my feelings, 
 I could write a complete volume. Though yet in 
 the early prime of life, he is a sage in learning 
 and wisdom. After leaving college, he settled in 
 
HON. O. F. MARSH. 
 
 123 
 
 Burlington, where he has since resided, dividing 
 his time between his legal profession and the 
 retirement of his study. "With a large and liberal 
 heart, he possesses all the endearing and interest- 
 ing quahties which belong to the true and accom- 
 plished gentleman. Like all truly great men, he 
 is exceedingly retiring and modest in his deport- 
 ment, and one of that rare class who can never 
 be excited by the voice of fame. About two years 
 ago, almost without his knowledge, he was elected 
 to a seat in the lower house of Congress, where 
 he at once began to make an impression as a 
 Statesman. Though few have been his public 
 speeches, they are remarkable for sound political 
 logic, and the classic elegance of their language. 
 As an orator, he is not showy and passionate, but 
 plain, forcible, and earnest. 
 
 But it is in the walks of private life, that 
 Mr. Marsh is to be mostly admired. His know- 
 ledge of the Fine Arts is probably more exten- 
 sive than that of any other man in this country, 
 and his critical taste is equal to his knowledge; 
 but that department peculiarly his hobby, is 
 Engraving. He has a passion for line engravings ; 
 and it is unquestionably true, that his collection 
 is the most valuable and extensive in the Union. 
 He is well acquainted with the history of this 
 
 G 2 
 
 f'l 
 
 i 
 
 '^li 
 
 i5i 
 As 
 
124 
 
 HON. O. P. MARSH. 
 
 art from the earliest period^ and also with its 
 various mechanical ramifications. He is as familiar 
 with the lives and peculiar styles of the Painters 
 and Engravers of antiquity, as with his household 
 aflfairs ; and when he talks to you on his favourite 
 theme, it is not to display his learning, but to 
 make you realize the exalted attributes and mission 
 of universal Art. 
 
 As an author, Mr. Marsh has done but little 
 in extent, but enough to secure a seat beside 
 such men as Edward Everett, with whom he has 
 been compared. He has published (among his 
 numerous things of the kind) a pamphlet entitled 
 "The Goths in New England," which is a fine 
 specimen of chaste writing and beautiful thought ; 
 also another on the " History of the Mechanic 
 Arts," which contains a great deal of rare and 
 important information. He has also written an 
 " Icelandic Grammar" of one himdred and fifty 
 pages, which created a sensation among the 
 learned of Europe a few years ago. As to his 
 scholarship, ^it can be said of him, that he is a 
 master in some twelve of the principal modern and 
 ancient languages. He has not learned them 
 merely for the purpose of being considered a 
 literary prodigy, but to multiply his means of 
 acquiring information, which information is in- 
 
HIS LIBRARY. 
 
 125 
 
 tended to accomplish some substantial end. He 
 is not a visionary, but a devoted lover of truth, 
 whether it be in History, Poetry, or the Arts. 
 
 But my chief object in speaking of this gentle- 
 man, was to introduce a passing notice of his 
 Library, which is undoubtedly the most unique 
 in the country. The building itself, which stands 
 near his dwelling, is of brick, and arranged 
 throughout with great taste. You enter it, as 
 it was often my privilege, and find yourself in a 
 perfect wilderness of gorgeous books, and port- 
 folios of engravings. Of books, Mr. Marsh owns 
 some five thousand volumes. His collection of 
 Scandinavian Literature is supposed to be the more 
 complete than any out of the Northern Kingdoms. 
 To give you an idea of this literary treasure, I 
 will mention a few of the rarest specimens. In 
 old Northern Literatm-e, here may be found the 
 Ama Magncean editions of old Icelandic Sagas, 
 all those of Suhm, all those of the Royal Society 
 of Northern Antiquaries, and, in fact, all those 
 printed at Copenhagen and Stockholm, as well as 
 in Iceland, with scarcely an exception. This 
 Library also contains the great editions of Heims- 
 kringhy the two Eddas, Kongs-Skugg-Sjo, Konunga, 
 Styrilse, the Scriptores Rerum Danicarum, Scrip- 
 tores Rerum Svecicarum, Dansk Magazin, the two 
 
 m 
 
 
126 
 
 MR. marsh's library. 
 
 complete editions of Olaus Magnus^ Saxo Gram' 
 maticus, tiie works of Bartholinus, Torfaus, Schon- 
 ing, Suhm, Pontoppidan, Grundtvig, Petersen, 
 Rask, the Aplantica of Rudbeck, the great works 
 of Sjoborfff Liljegren, Geijer, Cronholm, and Strinn- 
 holm, all the collections of old Icelandic, Danish, 
 and Swedish laws, and almost all the writers, 
 ancient and modern, who have treated of the 
 language, literature, or history, of the ancient 
 Scandinavian race. 
 
 In modem Danish Literature, here may be 
 found the works of Holberg, Wessel, Ewald, 
 Hejberg, Baggesen, Oehlenschlager, Nyerup, 
 Ingemann, with other celebrated authors; in 
 Swedish, those of Leopold Oxenstjema, Bell- 
 mann, Franzen, Atterbom, Tegner, Frederika 
 Bremer, and indeed almost all the belles-lettres 
 authors of Sweden, the Transactions of the Royal 
 Academy of Science, (more than one hundred 
 volumes), those of the Swedish Academy, and of 
 the Royal Academy of Literature, and many collec- 
 tions in documentary history, besides numerous 
 other works. 
 
 In Spanish and Portuguese, besides many modern 
 authors, here are numerous old chronicles, such as 
 the Madrid collection of old Spanish Chronicles 
 in seven volumes 4to. ; the Portuguese Limbos 
 
MB. marsh's LIRRARY. 
 
 127 
 
 y 
 
 ineditos da Historia Portugueza, five volumes folio ; 
 Fernam Lopez^ de Brito, Duarte Nunez de Liam, 
 Damiam de Goes^ de Barros^ Castanheda^ Eesende^ 
 Andrada^ Osorio; also^ de Menezes^ Mariana^ and 
 others of similar character. In Italian, most of 
 the hest authors, who have acquired a European 
 reputation; several hundred volumes of French 
 works, including many of the ancient chronicles; 
 a fine collection in German, including many editions 
 of Reyneke der Fuchs, the Niehelungen, and other 
 works of the middle ages. In classical literature, 
 good editions of the most celebrated Greek and 
 Latin authors ; and in English, a choice collection 
 of the best authors, among which should be men- 
 tioned, as rare in this country, Lord Bemers' 
 Froissart, Roger Ascham, the writings of King 
 James I., John S^th's Virginia (edition of 1624), 
 Amadis de Gaul, and Palmerin of England. In 
 lexicography, the best dictionaries and grammars 
 in all the languages of Western Europe, and many 
 biographical dictionaries and other works of refe- 
 rence in various languages. Many works also on 
 astrology, alchemy, witchcraft, and magic; and a 
 goodly number of works on the situation of 
 Plato's Atlantis and Elysian Fields, such as Rud- 
 beck's Atlantica, Goropius Becanus, de Grave 
 Republique des Champs-Elysees, and a host of 
 
 I 
 
128 
 
 MR. marsh's library. 
 
 others in every department of learning, the mere 
 mention of which would cause the bookworm a 
 thrill of delight. 
 
 In the department of Art, Mr. Marsh possesses 
 the Mus^e Fran9ai8, Mus^e Royal, (proof before 
 letters) Liber Veritatis, Houghton Gallery, Florence 
 Gallery, Pubhcations of Dilettanti Society, and 
 many other illustrated works and collections of 
 engravings; the works of Bartsch, Ottley Mengs, 
 Visconti, Winckelmann, and other writers on the 
 history and theory of Art; old illustrated works, 
 among which are the original editions of Teuer- 
 danck and Der Weiss Kunig ; and many thousand 
 steel engravings, including many originals by 
 Albert Diirer, Luke of Leyden, Lucas Cranach, 
 Aldegreuer, Wierx, the Sadelers Nauteuil, (among 
 others the celebrated Louis XIV., size of life, and 
 a proof of the Cadet h. la Perle, by Masson), 
 Edelink, Drevet, Marc Antonio, and other old 
 engravers of the Italian school, Callot, Ostade, 
 Rembrandt, (including a most superb impression 
 of the Christ Healing the Sick, the hundred guilder 
 Piece, and the portrait of Renier Ansloo), Waterloo, 
 WooUett, Sharp, Strange, Earlom, Wille, Ficquet 
 Schmidt, Loughi, and Morghen; in short, nearly 
 all the works of all the greatest masters in chalco- 
 graphy, from the time of Diirer to the present 
 
ADIEU TO BURLINGTON. 
 
 129 
 
 day. It were folly for me to praise tliese various 
 works, and I have alluded to them merely for the 
 purpose of letting you know something of the 
 taste and possessions of Mr. Marsh. His hbrary 
 is one of the most delightful places it has ever 
 been my fortune to visit, and the day that I 
 became acquainted with the man, I cannot but 
 consider as an era in my life. Morning, noon, 
 and evening did I linger with the master-spirits 
 of olden time, collected in his library, and though 
 I often stood in mute admiration of their genius, 
 I was sometimes compelled to shed a tear, as I 
 thought of the destiny, as a writer, which will 
 probably be mine. Thank God, there is no such 
 thing as ambition in that blessed world above the 
 stars, which I hope to attain, — no ambition to 
 harass the soul, — for then will it be free to revel, 
 and for ever, in its holy and godlike conceptions. 
 But a truce to this strain of thought, and also to 
 the Lions of Burlington, of whom I now take my 
 leave with a respectful bow. 
 
 m 
 
 y r 
 
 G 3 
 
130 
 
 DEPARTURE. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Stage-coach — The "Winooski— The Green Mountains— The ruined 
 Dwelling— The White Mountains — The Flume— A deep Pool — 
 The Old Man of the Mountain— The Basin— Franconia Notch- 
 View of the Mountains— Mount Washington — The Notch 
 Valley. ; 
 
 In ai Stage-coach. June. 
 
 Three loud knocks at my bed-room door awakened 
 me from " a deep dream of peace." " The eastern 
 stage is ready," said my landlord, as he handed 
 me a light ; whereupon, in less than five minutes 
 after the hour of three, I was on my way to the 
 White Mountains, inditing on the tablet of my 
 memory, the following disjointed stage-coach rhap- 
 sody. 
 
 A fine coach, fourteen passengers, and six superb 
 horses. My seat is on the outside, and my eyes 
 on the alert for anything of peculiar interest which 
 I may meet with in my journey. Now do the 
 
THE QREEN MOUNTAINS. 
 
 131 
 
 beautiful Green Mountains meet my view. The 
 day is breaking, and lo ! upon either side of me, 
 and like the two leaders of an army, rise the 
 peaks of Mansfield Mountain and the CamePs 
 Hump. Around the former the cloud-spirits of 
 early morning are picturing the fantastic poetry 
 of the sky ; while just above the summit of the 
 other, may be seen the new moon and the morning 
 star, waiting for the sun to come, like two sweet 
 human sisters, for the smiles and kisses of a 
 returning father. And now, as the sunbeams 
 glide along the earth, we are in the solitude of 
 the mountains, and the awakened mist-creatures 
 are ascending from the cool and silent nooks in the 
 deep ravines. 
 
 Young Dana's description of a ship under full 
 sail is very fine, but it does not possess the living 
 beauty of that picture now before me, in those 
 six bay horses, straining every nerve to eclipse the 
 morning breeze. Hold your breath, for the road 
 is hard and smooth as marble, and the extended 
 nostrils of those matchless steeds speak of a noble 
 pride within. There, the race is done, the victory 
 theirs ; and now, as they trot steadily along, 
 what music in the champing of those bits, and 
 the striking of those iron-bound hoofs ! Of all 
 the soulless animals on earth, none do I love so 
 
132 
 
 THE WINOOSKI, 
 
 I, ) 
 
 dearly as the horse,— I sometimes am inclined to 
 think that they have souls. I respect a noble 
 horse, more than I do some men. Horses are the 
 Indian chiefs of the brute creation. 
 
 The Winooski, along whose banks runs the most 
 picturesque stage route in Vermont, is an uncom- 
 monly interesting stream, — ^rapid, clear, and cold. 
 It is remarkable for its falls and narrow passes, 
 where perpendicular rocks of a hundred feet or 
 more, frown upon its solitary pools. Its chief 
 pictorial attraction is the cataract at Waterbury, — 
 a deep and jagged chasm in the gi'anite mountain, 
 whose horrors are greatly increased by the sight 
 and the smothered howl of an avalanche of pure 
 white foam. On its banks, and forty miles from 
 its outlet near Burlington, is situated Montpelier, 
 the capital of Vermont. It is a compact town, 
 mostly built upon two streets, and completely 
 hemmed in by rich and cultivated mountains. Its 
 chief attractions to my mind, however, during 
 my short stay, was a pair of deep black eyes, only 
 half visible under their drooping lids. 
 
 During one of my rambles near Montpelier, I 
 discovered an isolated and abandoned dwelling, 
 which stands upon a little plot of green, in the 
 lap of the forest near the top of a mountain. I 
 entered its deserted chambers, and spent a long 
 
DESERTED DWELLING. 
 
 133 
 
 time musing upon its solemn admonitions. The 
 cellar had become the home of lizards and toads* 
 The spider and cricket were masters of the hearth^ 
 where once had been spun the mountain legend^ 
 by an old man to the only child of his widowed 
 son. They were, as I am told, the last of a long 
 line, which once flourished in Britain, and with 
 them their name would pass into forgetfulness. 
 Only the years of a single generation have elapsed 
 since then, but the dwellers upon yonder mountain 
 are sleeping in the grave! And is this passing 
 record of their existence the only inheritance they 
 have left behind ? Most true ; but would it have 
 been better for them, or for us, had they bequeathed 
 to the world a noted name, or immense possessions ? 
 What is our life ? 
 
 The route between Montpelier and Danville lies 
 along the Winooski, and is not less beautiful than 
 that down the river. Its chief picture is Marsh- 
 field Waterfall. While at Montpelier, a pleasure 
 ride was got up by some of my friends, and as 
 they were bound to the east, and I was honoured 
 with an invitation, I sent on my baggage and 
 joined them, so that the monotony of my journey 
 was agreeably relieved. We had our fishing-rods 
 with us, and having stopped at the fall, we caught 
 a fine mess of trout, which we had cooked for 
 
 
134 
 
 THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 b I :, 
 
 dinner at the next tavern on our way, — and our 
 dessert was fine singing from the ladies, and good 
 stories from the lips of Senator Phelps, who was 
 of the party, and is celebrated for his conversational 
 powers. For further particulars concerning that 
 expedition, I would refer you to that pair of eyes, 
 which I just now mentioned as having beamed 
 upon me with a bewitching brilliancy. But alas ! 
 the dear creature is already, — excuse me, I cannot, 
 I will not speak the hateful word. The lucky fellow 
 ought to carry a liberal and kind soul hereafter, 
 if he has never done so before. ^ 
 
 At cock-crowing this morning I was again in 
 my seat outside of the stage-coach, anxiously wait- 
 ing for the mists to evaporate in the east. The 
 sun proved to be ray friend, and soon as he 
 appeared, they vanished like a frightened troop, 
 and he was marching up the sky in the plenitude 
 of his glory. And then, for the first time, did 
 my vision rest upon the White Mountains, as they 
 reposed in the distance, like a mighty herd of 
 camels in the solitude of the desert. In the charm- 
 ing valley of the Connecticut we only tarried about 
 ten minutes, but long enough for me to hear the 
 mower whet his scythe, the "lark sing loud and 
 high,'' and the pleasant tinkle of a cow-bell far 
 away in a broad meadow. While there I took 
 
 I' i 
 
THE FLUME. 
 
 135 
 
 a sketch, wherein I introduced the father of New 
 England rivers, and the bald peak of Mount Lafa- 
 yette, with the storm-inflicted scar upon its brow. 
 A noble monument is yonder mountain to the 
 memory of a noble man. 
 
 While breakfasting at Littleton this morning, 
 I came to the conclusion to leave my baggage and 
 visit Franconia. I jumped into the stage, and 
 after a very pleasant ride of seventeen miles, found 
 myself far into the Notch, in the midst of whose 
 scenery I am to repose this night. I reached 
 here in time to enjoy an early dinner with "mine 
 host;" after which I sallied forth to examine the 
 wonders of the place, but was so delighted with 
 everything around, that I did not take time to 
 make a single sketch. I saw the Flume, and was 
 astonished. It is a chasm in the mountain, thirty 
 feet wide, about a hundred deep, and some two 
 thousand long, and as regular in its shape as 
 if it had been cut by the hand of man. Bridging 
 its centre is a rock of many tons weight, which 
 one would suppose could only have been hurled 
 there from the heavens. Through its centre flows 
 a little brook, which soon passes over a succession 
 of rocky slides, and which are almost as smooth 
 and white as marble. And to cap the climax, this 
 
 i: 
 
136 
 
 THE OLD MAN OP THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 Flume is the centre of as perfect and holy a wilder- 
 ness of scenery as could be imagined. 
 
 I have also seen (what should be the pride of 
 the Merrimack, as it is upon one of its tributaries) 
 the most superb pool in this whole country. The 
 fall above it is not remarkable, but the forest- 
 covered rocks on either side, and the pool itself, 
 are wonderfully fine. In the first place, you must 
 remember, that the waters of this whole region 
 are cold as ice, and very clear. The pool forms 
 a circle of about one hundred feet in diameter, 
 and is said to be fifty feet in depth. Owing to 
 the fall, it is the "head-quarters" of the trout, 
 which are found all along the stream in great 
 abundance. After I had completed a drawing, I 
 laid aside my pencils and fixed my fishing rod. 
 I threw the line only about two hours and caught 
 forty-five trout. Among them was the great-grand- 
 father of all trout, as I thought at the time, he 
 was seventeen inches long, and weighed two pounds 
 and one ounce. 
 
 The Old Man of the Mountain is another of 
 the lions of this place. It is a cone-shaped 
 mountain (at the foot of which is a small lake), 
 upon whose top are some rocks, which have a 
 resemblance to the profile of an old man. It is 
 
THE BASIN. 
 
 137 
 
 really a very curious affair. There the old fellow 
 stands^ as he has stood perhaps for centuries^ 
 " looking the whole world in the face.'' I wonder 
 if the thunder ever frightens him? and does the 
 lightning play around his brow without making 
 him wink ? His business there, I suppose, is to 
 protect the " ungranted lands " of New Hampshire, 
 or keep Isaac Hill from lecturing the White 
 Mountains on Locofocoism. He need not trouble 
 himself as to the first fear, for they could not be 
 deeded even to a bear; and as to the second, 
 I do not believe the mountains could ever be per- 
 suaded to vote for the acquisition "of New Territory. 
 Eveiy plant upon them speaks of freedom, and 
 in their fastnesses does the eagle find a home, — 
 their banner-symbols are the stars and stripes, and 
 therefore they must be Whigs, 
 
 And another curiosity, which everybody goes 
 to see, is called the Basin, — an exquisite little 
 spot, — ^fit for the abode of a very angel. It is 
 formed in the solid rock, and though twenty feet 
 in depth, you can see a sixpence at the bottom, — it 
 is so wonderfully clear. But the wild beauties of 
 this Notch, unknown to fame, are charming beyond 
 compare. There goes the midnight warning of 
 the clock, and I must retire. Would that my 
 dreams might be of yonder star, now beaming with 
 
138 
 
 FRANCONIA NOTCH. 
 
 Mil 
 
 if' 
 
 intense brightness above the dark outline of the 
 nearest mountain. 
 
 The distance from Knight's tavern to the western 
 outlet of Franconia Notch is eight miles. The 
 eastern stage was to pads through about the middle 
 of the afternoon, so after eating my breakfast 
 I started on, intending to enjoy a walk between 
 the mountains. With the conceptions and feelings 
 that were with me then, I should have been willing 
 to die, for I was very happy. 
 
 m 
 
 FRANCONIA NOTCH. 
 
 Now, as I sat upon a stone to sketch a mass of 
 foliage, a little red squirrel came within five feet of 
 me, and commenced a terrible chattering, as if his 
 
HAPPY THOUGHTS. 
 
 139 
 
 lady-love had given him the "mitten," and he 
 was inveighing against the whole female sex; 
 and now an old partridge with a score of children 
 came tripping along the shadowy road, almost 
 within my reach, and so fearless of my presence, 
 that I would not have harmed one of them even for 
 a crown. Both of these were exceedingly simple 
 pictures, and yet they afforded me a world of 
 pleasure. 
 
 I thought of the favourite haunts of these dear 
 creatures — ^the hollow tree — the bed of dry leaves — 
 the cool spring — ^the mossy yellow log — ^the rocky 
 ledges overgrown with moss — ^the gurgling brooklet 
 stealing through the trees, with its fairy waterfalls 
 in a green shadow and its spots of vivid sunlight — 
 and of a thousand other kindred gems in the 
 wonderful gallery of Nature. And now as I walked 
 onward, peering into the gloomy recesses of the 
 forest on either side, or fixed my eyes upon the blue 
 sky with a few white clouds floating in their glory, 
 many of my favourite songs were remembered, and, 
 in a style peculiarly my own, I poured them upon 
 the air, whilst I was answered by unnumbered 
 mountain echoes. Nothing had they to do with 
 the place or with each other, but like the pictures 
 around me, they were a divine food for my soul — 
 so that I was in the enjoyment of a heavenly feast. 
 
140 
 
 HAPPY THOUGHTS. 
 
 11 
 
 t' 
 
 Hl'l 
 
 Now, as I looked through the opening trees, I saw 
 an eagle floating above the summit of a mighty 
 clifi"; — now, with the speed of a falling star descend- 
 ing far into the leafy depths, and then, slowly but 
 surely ascending, until hidden from view by a 
 passing cloud. Fly on, proud bird, glorious symbol 
 of my country's freedom ! What a god-like life is 
 thine! Thou art the "sultan of the sky," and 
 from thy craggy home for ever lookest upon the 
 abodes of man with indifference and scorn. The 
 war-whoop of the savage, the roar of artillery on the 
 bloody battle field, and the loud boom of the ocean 
 cannon, have fallen upon thy ear, and thou hast 
 listened, utterly heedless as to whom belonged the 
 victory. What strength and power in thy pinions ! 
 traversing in an hour a wider space 
 
 " Than yonder gallant ship, -with all her sails 
 Wooing the winds, can cross from mom till eve !" 
 
 When thy hunger-shriek echoes through the wil- 
 derness, with terror does the wild animal seek his 
 den, for thy talons are of iron and thine eyes of 
 fire. But what is thy message to the sun ? Far, 
 far into the zenith art thou gone, for ever gone — 
 emblem of a mighty hope that once was mine. 
 
 My thoughts were upon the earth once more, and 
 my feet upon a hill out of the woods, whence might 
 
AN INTERESTING RIDE. 
 
 141 
 
 be Been the long broad valley of the Amonoosack^ 
 melting into that of the Connecticut. Long and 
 intently did I gaze upon the landscape^ with its 
 unnumbered farm-houses^ reposing in the sunlight, 
 and surmounted by pyramids of light blue smoke, 
 and also upon the cattle gazing on a thousand hills. 
 Presently I heard the rattling wheels of the stage- 
 coach ; — one more look over the charming valley, 
 and I was in my seat beside the coachman. 
 
 In view of the foregoing and forthcoming facts, 
 I cannot but conclude that I am a most lucky 
 fellow. My ride from Franconia to Littleton was 
 attended with this interesting circumstance. A 
 very pretty young lady, who was in the stage, found 
 it necessary to change her seat to the outside on 
 account of the confinement within. Of course, I 
 welcomed her to my side with unalloyed pleasure. 
 The scenery was fine, but what does my reader 
 suppose I cared for that — as I sat there talking in 
 a most eloquent strain to my companion, with my 
 right arm around her waist to keep her from falling? 
 That conduct of mine may appear " shocking*' to 
 those who have " never travelled,'* but it was not 
 only an act of politeness but of absolute necessity. 
 Neither, as my patient's smile told me, '' was it bad 
 to take." And how delightful it was to have her 
 cling to me, and to hear the beating of her heart. 
 
142 
 
 THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 I] 
 
 h': 
 
 W ■>': 
 
 as the driver swung his whip and ran his horses 
 down the hills ! Animal magnetism is indeed a 
 great invention — and I am a believer in it, so far 
 as the touch of a beautiful woman is concerned. 
 
 Away, away — ^thoughts of the human world ! for 
 I am entering into the heart of the White Moun- 
 tains. Ah me ! how can I describe these glorious 
 hierarchs of New England ! How solemnly do they 
 raise their rugged peaks to heaven ! Now, in token 
 of their royalty, crowned with a diadem of clouds ; 
 and now with every one of their cliflFs gleaming in 
 the sunlight like the pictures of a dream ! For 
 ages, have they been the playmates of the storm, 
 and held communion with the mysteries of the 
 midnight sky. The earliest beams of the morning 
 have bathed them in living light, and theirs too 
 have been the last kisses of departing day. Man 
 and his empires have arisen and decayed, but they 
 have remained unchanged, a perpetual mockery. 
 Upon their summits. Time has never claimed domi- 
 nion. There, as of old, does the eagle teach her 
 brood to fly, and there does the wild bear prowl 
 after his prey. There do the waterfalls still leap 
 and shout on their way to the dells below, even as 
 when the tired Indian hunter, some hundred ages 
 agone, bent him to quafif the liquid element. There 
 still, does the rank grass rustle in the breeze, and 
 
 i 
 
MOUNT WASHINGTON. 
 
 143 
 
 the pine, and cedar^ and hemlock^ take part in the 
 howling of the gale. Upon Man alone falls the 
 heavy curse of time; Nature has never sinned, 
 therefore is her glory immortal. 
 
 As is well known, the highest of these mountains 
 was christened after our heloved Washington ; and 
 with it, as with him, are associated the names of 
 Jefferson, Madison, and Adams. Its height is said 
 to be six thousand and eight hundred feet above 
 the sea ; but owing to its situation in the centre of 
 a brotherhood of hills, it does not appear to be 
 so grand an object as South Peak Mountain among 
 the Catskills. Its summit, like most of its com- 
 panions, is destitute of vegetation, and therefore 
 more desolate and monotonous. It is somewhat of 
 an undertaking to ascend Mount Washington, 
 though the trip is performed on horseback ; but if 
 the weather is clear, the traveller will be well repaid 
 for his labour. The painter will be pleased with 
 the views he may command in ascending the route 
 from Crawford's, which abounds in the wildest and 
 most diversified charms of mountain scenery. But 
 the prospect from the summit of Washington, will 
 mostly excite the soul of the poet. Not so much 
 on account of what he will behold, but for the 
 breathless feeling, which will make him deem him- 
 self, for a moment, to be an angel or a god. And 
 
i^ 
 
 144 
 
 MOUNT WASHINGTON. 
 
 then, more than ever, if he is a Christian, will he 
 desire to be alone, so as to anticipate the bliss of 
 heaven by a holy communion with the Invisible. 
 
 I spent a night upon this mountain; and my 
 best view of the prospect was at the break of day, 
 when, as Milton says, 
 
 4« 
 
 snd. 
 
 morn, her rosy steps in th' Eastern clime 
 
 Advancing, sow'd the earth Mrith orient pearls/' 
 
 " Wak'd by the circling hours, with rosy hand 
 Unbarr'd the gates of light ;" 
 
 «r, when in the language of Shakspeare, 
 
 " The grey-eyed mom smiled on the frowning night, 
 Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light." 
 
 Wonderfully vast, and strangely indistinct and 
 dreamy, was the scene spread out on every side. 
 To the west lay the superb Connecticut, with its 
 fertile valley reposing in the gloom of night ; while 
 to the east, the ocean-bounded prospect, just burst- 
 ing into the life of light, was faintly relieved by 
 Winnepiseogee and Sebago lakes ; and, like rockets 
 along the earth, wandered away the Merrimack, 
 the Saco, and the Androscoggin, to their ocean 
 home,— the whole forming an epic landscape, such 
 as we seldom behold excepting in our sleep. Hea- 
 vens ! with what exquisite delight did I gaze upon 
 
NOTCH VALLEY. 
 
 145 
 
 the scene, as in the eyes of truth and fancy it 
 expanded before my mind. Yonder, in one of a 
 hundred villages, a young wife, with her first-born 
 child at her side, was in the midst of her morning 
 dream ; and there, the pilgrim of fourscore years 
 was lying on his couch in a fitful slumber, as the 
 pains of age crept through his frame. There, on 
 the Atlantic shore, the fisherman in the sheltering 
 bay, hoisted anchor and spread his sail for the sea ; 
 and there, the life-star of the lighthouse was extin- 
 guished, again at its stated time to appear with 
 increased brilliancy. In reality, there was an ocean 
 of mountains all around me ; but in the dim light 
 of the hour, and as I looked down upon them, it 
 seemed to me that I stood in the centre of a plain, 
 boundless as the universe ; and though I could not 
 see them, I felt that I was in a region of spirits, 
 and that the summit of the mount was holy ground. 
 But the morning was advancing, the rising mists 
 obscured my vision, and as I did not wish to have 
 that day-break picture dissipated from my mind, I 
 mounted my faithful horse, and with a solenm awe 
 at heart, descended the mountain. 
 
 The ride from the Notch House, (kept by the 
 celebrated hunter, named Crawford), through the 
 Notch Valley, some twelve miles long, is magnifi- 
 cent. First is the Gap itself, only some twenty 
 
 ^tl 
 
146 
 
 AWFUL STORM. 
 
 ; 
 
 feet in width, and overhung with jagged rocks of 
 wondrous height ; and then the tiny spring, alive 
 with trout, which gives birth to the untamed Saco. 
 A few more downward steps, and you are in full 
 view of a bluff, whose storm-scathed brow seems 
 to prop the very heavens, its grey shadows strongly 
 contrasting with the deep blue aky. A little 
 further on, and you find yourself in id amphitheatre 
 of mountains, whose summits and sides are barren 
 and desolate, where the storms of a thousand years 
 have exhausted their fury. Downward still, and 
 farther on, and you come to the memorable Wiley 
 cottage, whose inhabitants perished in the avalanche 
 or slide of 1826. The storm had been unceasing 
 for some days upon the surrounding country, and 
 the dwellers of the cottage were startled at ijjid- 
 night by the falHng earth. They fled, and were 
 buried in an instant; and up to the present time, 
 only one of the seven bodies has ever been found. 
 As it then stood, the dwelling still stands — a 
 monument of mysterious escape, as well as of the 
 incomprehensible decrees of Providence. The Saco 
 river, which runs through the valley, was lifted 
 from its original bed, and forced into a new channel. 
 The whole place, which but a short time before 
 was " a beautiful and verdant opening amid the 
 surrounding rudeness and deep shadow, is now 
 
A BUBAL FICTUBE. 
 
 147 
 
 like a stretch of desolate sea-shore after a tempest, 
 — ^full of wrecks, buried in sand and rocks, crushed 
 and ground to atoms.*' 
 
 After witnessing so much of the grand and 
 gloomy, I was glad to retrace my course back to 
 a more tame country. My last view of Mount 
 Washington and its lordly companions was the 
 most beautiful. The sun was near his setting, and 
 the whole sky was suffused with a glow of 
 richest yellow and crimson, while to the eastward 
 hung two immense copper-coloured clouds just 
 touching the outline of the mountains ; and through 
 the hazy atmosphere the mountains themselves 
 looked cloud-like, but with more of the bright blue 
 of heaven upon them. In the extensive middle 
 diSt^Qce faded away wood-crowned hills, and in 
 the foreground an exquisite little farm, with the 
 husbandman's happy abode almost hidden by groups 
 of elms, and with the simple figures, only a few 
 paces off, ol a little girl sitting on a stone, with 
 a bunch of summer flowers in her hand, and a 
 basket of berries and a dog at her side. One more 
 yearning gaze upon the dear old mountains, and 
 I resumed my pilgrimage towards the north. 
 
 H 2 
 
148 
 
 MONTREAL. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Montreal. 
 
 i- j 
 
 H 
 
 Montreal. June. 
 
 With some things in Montreal I have been 
 pleased; but with others a good deal dissatisfied. 
 The appearance which it presents from every point 
 of view is imposing in the extreme. Its numerous 
 church toT7ers and extensive blocks of stores, its 
 extensive shipping and noble stone wharves, com-^ 
 bine to give one an idea of great wealth and 
 liberality. On first riding to my hotel I was struck 
 with the cleanliness of its streets; and, on being 
 shown to my room, I was convinced that the hotel 
 itself (Donegana's) was of the first water. It 
 abounds in public buildings, which are usually 
 built of lime-stone, and the city extends along 
 the river St. Lawrence about three miles. The 
 
THE CATHOLIC CATHEDRAL. 
 
 149 
 
 streets in the older parts of the town are as pic- 
 turesque and narrow as those of the more ancient 
 cities of the old world, but in the modem portions 
 they are quite regular and comfortable. The prin- 
 cipal street is Notre Dame, which always presents, 
 on a pleasant day, a gay and elegant appearance. 
 
 Generally speaking, its churches are below me- 
 diocrity, but it has one architectural lion worth 
 mentioning, the Catholic Cathedral. It faces a 
 square called Place d'Armes, and presents an im- 
 posing appearance. It is built of stone, and said to 
 be after the Norman-Gothic c der of architecture, 
 but I should think it a mixture of a dozen diS'Orders. 
 Its extreme length is two hundred and fifty-five 
 feet, breadth one hundred and thirty-five, and its 
 height seventy-two feet. It has also two towers, 
 which measure two hundred and twenty feet to their 
 summit. The windows in these towers are closed 
 with coarse boards; and yet it cost four hiindred 
 thousand dollars. The ground-floor is covered with 
 pews capable of seating eight thousard people, 
 while the aisles and galleries might hold two thou- 
 sand more. The galleries are supported by wooden 
 pillars, which reminded me of a New York barber's 
 sign. The interior has a naked and doleful ap- 
 pearance ; the large window above the altar is 
 
150 
 
 POPULATION OF MONTREAL. 
 
 wretchedly painted ; the altar itself is loaded with 
 gewgaws^ and; of the many paintings which meet 
 you in every direction, there is not one for which 
 I would pay ten dollars. The organ resembles a 
 bird-house, and the music perpetrated there every 
 day in the year would jar upon the ear of even an 
 American Indian. And when it is remembered 
 that this church was built by one of the wealthiest 
 corporations on the continent, it is utterly impos- 
 sible to entertain a feeling of charity towards the 
 founders thereof. 
 
 The population of Montreal is now estimated at 
 forty thousand, one-half of whom are Roman 
 Catholics, one quarter Protestants, and the re- 
 mainder nothing in particular. By this statement 
 it will be readily seen that the establishments of the 
 CathoUcs must be the most abundant. Nunneries 
 are consequently very numerous, some of them well 
 endowed; and to those who have a passion for such 
 affairs must be exceedingly interesting. 
 
 But I wish to mention one or two more specimens 
 of architecture. The market of Montreal is built 
 of stone, situated near the river, and remarkably 
 spacious and convenient in all its arrangements. 
 It eclipses anything of the kind that we can boast 
 of in the States. The only monument in the city 
 
PUBLIC EDIFICES. 
 
 151 
 
 of any note is a Doric column^ surmounted with 
 a statue^ and erected in honour of Lord Nelson. 
 The entire column is seventy feet high^ and gives 
 an air of elegance to that portion of Notre Dame 
 where it stands. On the four sides of the pedestal 
 are pictorial representations, in alto relievo, repre- 
 senting Nelson in some of his memorable battles. 
 It was erected by the British inhabitants of Montreal 
 at a cost of near six thousand dollars. 
 
 One of the more striking peculiarities of this city 
 is the fact that every body has to live, walk, and 
 sleep at the point of a bayonet. Military quarters 
 are stationed in various portions of the city, and 
 soldiers meet you at every comer, marching to and 
 fro, and sometimes puffed up with ignorance and 
 vanity. The last woman, I am sorry to say, who 
 has become an outcast from society, attributes her 
 misfortune to a soldier; but the officers of the 
 British army stationed here are generally well- 
 educated and agreeable gentlemen. 
 
 The people whom you meet in the streets of 
 Montreal seem to come from almost every nation 
 in the world. Now it may be the pompous Eng- 
 lishman, who represents some wilderness district in 
 Parliament, and now it may be the cunning Scotch- 
 man, or a half-famished Irishman. Sometimes it 
 
 
152 
 
 MOUNT ROYAL. 
 
 is the speculating American^ or the humble^ but 
 designing Jew^ the gay and polite Habitan^ or a 
 group of wandering Indians from the far north. 
 The better class of Montreal people (so called by 
 a fashionable world) are the British settlers^ or 
 rather the English population. Generally speaking, 
 they are highly intelligent, somewhat arbitrary in 
 expressing their opinions, but they entertain hos- 
 pitable feelings towards strangers. They boast of 
 their mother-country, as if her glory and power 
 were omnipotent, and an occasional individual may 
 be found who will not scruple to insult an American 
 if he happens to defend his own. In religion, they 
 are generally Episcopalians ; they hate the Habitan, 
 look with contempt upon the poor Irish, and address 
 their brethren of Scotland with a patronising air. 
 They drink immense quantities of wine ; and those 
 who happen to be the illiterate members of the 
 Provincial Parliament, think themselves the greatest 
 people on earth. 
 
 The island upon which Montreal is situated is 
 seventy miles in circumference, and was once (if 
 not now) the property of an order of Catholic 
 priesthood. In the rear of the city rises a noble 
 hill, called Mount Royal, from which it derives 
 its name. The hill itself is thickly wooded, but 
 
SABBATH AT MONTREAL. 
 
 153 
 
 the surrounding country is exceedingly fertile, and 
 studded with elegant country seats and the rural 
 abodes of the peasantry. A ride around the Mount, 
 on a pleasant day, is one of the most delightful 
 imaginable, commanding a view of Montreal and 
 the St. Lawrence valley, which is grand beyond 
 compare. 
 
 To appreciate the unique features of Montreal, 
 it is necessary that you should be there on the 
 Sabbath, the gala-day of the Catholics. Then it is 
 that the peasantry flock into the city from all 
 directions, and, when they are pouring into the 
 huge Cathedral by thousands, dressed in a thousand 
 fantastic fashions, cracking their jokes and laughing 
 as they move along, the entire scene is apt to fill 
 one with peculiar feelings. It was beautiful to look 
 at ; but the thought struck me that I should hate 
 to live in the shadow of that Cathedral for ever. 
 But if you chance to take a walk in the suburbs on 
 a Sabbath afternoon, you will notice much that 
 cannot but afford you real satisfaction. You will 
 find almost every cottage a fit subject for a picture, 
 and the flocks of neatly-dressed, happy, and polite 
 children playing along the roads, together with 
 frequent groups of sober men, sitting in a pc»rch, 
 and the occasional image of a beautiful girl or 
 
 H 3 
 
154 
 
 SABBATH AT MONTREAL^ 
 
 contented mother leaning out of a wihdow — all 
 these things^ I say^ constitute a charm which is not 
 met with everywhere. But enough. Montreal is 
 a fine city, and I trust that it will yet be my 
 fortune to visit it again, and see more of its polished 
 society. 
 
QUEBEC. 
 
 155 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Quebec. 
 
 Quebec. June. 
 I CAME from Montreal to this city in the day 
 time, and consequently had an opportunity of 
 examining this portion of the St. Lawrence. The 
 river opposite Montreal runs at the rate of six 
 miles per hour, and is two miles wide ; it preserves 
 this hreadth for ahout sixty miles, and then expands 
 into the heautiftd and emerald-looking Lake of St. 
 Peter, after which it varies from one to five in 
 width until it reaches Quebec, which is distant 
 from Montreal one hundred and eighty miles. 
 Above St. Peter, the shores vary from five to fifteen 
 feet in height, but below the lake they gradually 
 become more elevated, until they measure some 
 three hundred feet in the vicinity of Quebec. The 
 
156 
 
 QUEBEC. 
 
 countiy between the two Canadian cities is well 
 cultivated, and on either side may be seen a con- 
 tinued succession of rural cottages. 
 
 Our steamer approached Quebec at the sunset 
 hour, and I must say that I have never witnessed a 
 more superb prospect than the lofty Citadel-city, 
 the contracted St. Lawrence, the opposite headland 
 called Point Levi, and the far-distant land, which 
 I knew to be Cape Tourment. A stift* breeze was 
 blowing at the time, and some twenty ships were 
 sailing to and fro, while we had to make our way 
 into port by winding between and around some three 
 hundred ships which were at anchor. 
 
 I have seen much in this goodly city ^hich has 
 made a deep impression on my mind. The promon- 
 tory called Cape Diamond, upon which it stands, 
 is formed by the junction of the St. Charles and 
 St. Lawrence rivers, and rises to the height of 
 three hundred and fifty feet above the water. The 
 city is built from the water's edge along the base 
 of the cliflF, and from thence in a circuitous manner 
 ascends to the very borders of the Citadel and 
 ramparts. There is but one street leading from 
 the Lower to the Upper Town, and that is narrow 
 and very steep, and the gateway is defended by 
 a number of large cannon. The city is remarkably 
 
RELIGIOUS ESTABLISHMENTS. 
 
 167 
 
 irregular, and, as many of the buildings are very 
 ancient, its appearance is picturesque and romantic. 
 The fortifications cover an area of forty acres, and 
 beneath them are many spacious and gloomy vaults, 
 for the reception of ammunition and stores during 
 a time of war. Receding into the interior, from 
 the very brow of the Fortress, are the Plains of 
 Abraham, which are covered with a rich green sod, 
 and planted with unnumbered cannon. Their his- 
 torical associations are numerous, and, as they would 
 fill a chapter in themselves, I will refrain from dwel< 
 ling upon them at this time. 
 
 The religious establishments of Quebec are 
 numerous,' and belong mostly to the Roman Catho- 
 lics ; like those of Montreal they are very ancient 
 and well endowed ; but they did not interest me, 
 and I am sure my description of them would not 
 interest my reader. As a matter of course, I visited 
 the French Cathedral. It seems to be as old as 
 the hills, and yet all the windows of the principal 
 tower are roughly boarded up. On entering the 
 edifice, which is crowded with gilded ornaments, 
 I could not fix my eye upon a single object which 
 suggested the idea of richness. The sculpture, 
 the paintings, and even the gilding, are all without 
 merit ; and what greatly added to my disgust was, 
 that I could not obtain a civil answer from a single 
 
158 
 
 MONTCALM AND WOLPE. 
 
 ! 
 
 one of the many boorish boys and men, who were 
 fussing about the church. 
 
 In the front of an extensive promenade, just 
 below the Citadel, stands the monument erected 
 to the memory of Montcalm and Wolfe. The 
 gentleman who contributed the largest sum for 
 its erection, was Lord Dalhousie. It is a handsome 
 obelisk, and was designed by a military gentleman 
 named Young. The principal inscription on the 
 column is characteristic of the English nation, 
 and is what an American would call "a puff 
 of Dalhousie" — even though it be chiselled in 
 Latin. The annoying effect of this inscription, 
 however, is counteracted by another, which is also 
 in Latin, and very beautiful. It was composed 
 by J. C. Fisher, Esq., LL.D., founder of the Quebec 
 Gazette, and is as follows : 
 
 " Military virtue gave them a common death, 
 History a common fame, 
 Posterity a common monument." 
 
 The Golden Dog is another curiosity which will 
 attract the attention of the visitor to Quebec. It 
 is the figure of a dog, rudely sculptured in relievo, 
 and richly gilded, which stands above the entrance 
 of an ancient house, which was built by M. Philli- 
 bert, a merchant of this city, in the time of M. 
 
TIIK GOLDEN DOO. 
 
 159 
 
 Bigot, the last Intcndant under the French Govern- 
 ment. Connected with it is the following curious 
 story, which I copy from an old record : 
 
 " M. Phillibert and the Tntendant were on bad 
 terms, but, under the system then existing, the 
 merchant knew that it was in vain for him to seek 
 redress in the colony; and, determining at some 
 future period to prefer his complaint in France, 
 he contented himself with placing the figure of 
 a sleeping dog in ft*ont of his house, with the 
 following lines beneath it, in allusion to his situa- 
 tion with his powerful enemy : 
 
 " ' Je suis un chien qui ronge I'os, 
 
 En le rongeant je prends tnon repos— 
 Un terns viendra qui n'est pas venu — 
 Que je mordrai qui m'aura mordu.' 
 
 "This allegorical language was, however, too 
 plain for M. Bigot to misunderstand it. A man 
 so powerful easily found an instrument to avenge 
 the insult, and M. Phillibert received, as the reward 
 of his verse, the sword of an officer of the garrison 
 through his back, when descending the Lower 
 Town Hill. The murderer was permitted to leave 
 the colony unmolested, and was transferred to a 
 regiment stationed in the East Indies. Thither 
 he was pursued by a brother of the deceased, who 
 
 Cii 
 
;60 
 
 THE FORTRESS. 
 
 II 
 
 
 , 
 
 i M 
 
 i 
 
 an^ 
 
 had first sought him in Canada^ when he arrived 
 to settle his brother's aflfairs. The parties^ it is 
 related, met in the public street of Pondicherry, 
 drew their swords, and, after a severe conflict, the 
 assassin met a more honourable fate than his crime 
 deserved, and died by the hand of his antago- 
 nist/' 
 
 I know not that there are any other curiosities 
 in Quebec really worth mentioning, and I willingly 
 turn to its natural attractions. The Fortress itself 
 is undoubtedly one, if not the most formidable 
 on the Continent, but I fell in love with it on 
 account of its observatory features. To ramble over 
 its rimmanding ramparts, without knowing or 
 caring to know a solitary individual, has been to 
 me an agreeable and unique source of entertain- 
 ment. At one time I leaned upon the balustrade, 
 and looked down upon the Lower Town. It was 
 near the hour of noon. Horses and carriages, 
 men, women, and children, were hurrying through 
 the narrow streets, and ships were in the docks 
 discharging their cargoes. I looked down upon 
 all these things at a single glance, and yet the 
 only noise I heard was a hum of business. Even 
 the loud clear shout of the sailor, as he tugged 
 away at the mast-head of his ship, could hardly 
 
THE SIGNAL HOUSE. 
 
 161 
 
 be heard stealing upward on the air. Doves were 
 flying about high above the roofs, but they were 
 80 far below my point of vision, that I could not 
 hear the bea^ting of their wings. 
 
 But the finest prospect that I have enjoyed in 
 this city was from the summit of the Signal-House, 
 which looms above the Citadel. I visited this spot 
 just as the sun was setting, and every thing was 
 enveloped in a golden atmosphere. Beneath me 
 lay the city, gradually lulling itself to repose j on 
 the west, far as the eye could reach, faded away 
 the valley of the Upper St. Lawrence ; towards the 
 north, winding its way between high and well- 
 cultivated hills, was the river St. Charles ; towards 
 the eastward, rolling onward in its sublimity like 
 an ocean across the continent, was the flood of 
 the Lower St. Lawrence, whitened by more than 
 a hundred sails; and towards the south reposed 
 a picturesque country of hills and dales, beyond 
 which I could just discern some of the mountain- 
 peaks of my own dear "Fatherland.'' Strange 
 and beautiful beyond compare was the entire 
 panorama, and how was its influence upon me 
 deepened, as a strain of martial music broke upon 
 the silent air, and then melted into my very heart ! 
 I knew not whence it came, or who were the 
 
 ^1 
 
 ^1 
 
162 
 
 POPULATION OF QUEBEC. 
 
 [' !l 
 
 musicians^ but I "blessed them unaware/' and 
 as my vision again wandered over the far-off hills, 
 I was quite happy. 
 
 The population of Quebec is estimated at thirty 
 thousand, and the variety is as great as in Montreal. 
 A large proportion of the people wuim you see parad- 
 ing the streets are soldiers, and chief among them 
 I would mention the Scotch Highlanders, who 
 are a noble set of men, and dress in handsome 
 style. 
 
 Quebec, upon the whole, is a remarkable place. 
 
 FALLS OP MONTMORENCY. 
 
 and well worth visiting. The environs of the city 
 are also interesting, and a ride to the Falls of 
 
FALLS OF MONTMORENCY. 
 
 163 
 
 Montmorency, seven miles down the river, and 
 back again by an interior road, will abundantly 
 repay the tourist for all the trouble and expense 
 to which he may be subjected. 
 
164 
 
 JOURNEY DOWN 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A sail down the St. Lawrence— -Sword-Pish— Chasing a Whale. 
 
 
 i 
 
 i:\ 
 
 .|j 
 
 Tadousac. June. 
 
 I HAVE not visited Canada for the purpose of 
 examining her cities, and studying the character 
 of her people, but solely with a view of hunting 
 up some new scenery, and having a little sport 
 in the way of saloion fishing. I am writing this 
 chapter at the mouth of probably the most remark- 
 able river in North America. But, before entering 
 upon a description of my sojourn here, it is meet, 
 I ween, that I should record an account of my 
 journey down the St. Lawrence. 
 
 On reaching Quebec, I was informed that there 
 was no regular mode of conveyance down the great 
 river, and that I should have to take passage in a 
 transient ship or schooner, which would land me 
 
THE ST. LAWRENCE. 
 
 165 
 
 at my desired haven. This intelligence had a ten- 
 dency to damp my spirits^ and I had to content 
 myself by sauntering about the Citadel-city. Among 
 the places I visited was the fish market^ where it 
 was my good fortune to find a small smack, which 
 had brought a load of fresh salmon to market, and 
 was on the point of returning to the Saguenay for 
 another cargo. In less than thirty minutes after I 
 first saw him, I had struck a bargain with the 
 skipper, transferred my luggage on board the 
 smack, and was on my way to a region which 
 was to me unknown. 
 
 We hoisted sail at twelve o'clock, and were 
 favoured by a atiff westerly breeze. Everything, 
 in fact, connected with the voyage was beautifully 
 accidental, and I had a " glorious time.'' In the 
 first place, our craft was just the thing — schooner- 
 rigged, a fast sailer, and perfectly safe. The 
 skipper, named Belland, was a warm-hearted and 
 intelligent Frenchman, whose entire crew consisted 
 of one boy. The day was superb, and the scenery 
 of the river appeared to me more like the work 
 of enchantment than nature. 
 
 The appearance of Quebec, from the eastward, 
 is imposing in the extreme. Standing as it does 
 upon a lofty bluff", its massive ramparts, and tin- 
 
 ■til 
 
 m 
 
166 
 
 JOURNEY DOWN 
 
 covered roofs^ domes^ and cupolas, suggest the 
 idea of immense power and opulence. Just below 
 the city, the St. Lawrence spreads out to the width 
 of three or four miles, while from the margin of 
 either shore fade away a continued succession of 
 hiDs, which vary from five hundred to fifteen 
 hundred feet iiL. height. Those upon the north 
 shore are the highest, and both sides of the river, 
 for a distance of some twenty miles below the 
 city, are plentifully sprinkled with the white 
 cottages of the Canadian peasantry. As you 
 proceed, however, the river gradually widens, the 
 hills upon the north shore become more lofty, 
 reaching the elevation of two thousand feet ; and, 
 while you only occasionally discover a farm-house 
 upon their summits, the southern shore continues 
 to bear the appearance of a settled country, where 
 the spire of a Catholic Church is frequently seen 
 looming above a cluster of rural residences. In 
 descending the river, the first pictorial feature 
 which attracts attention is the Fall of Montmo- 
 rency, pouring the waters of a noble tributary 
 immediately into the St. Lawrence. Just below 
 this fall the river is divided by the island of 
 Orleans, vhich measures about twenty miles in 
 length, and five in breadth. It is partly covered 
 
 
THE ST. LAWRENCE. 
 
 167 
 
 with forest; and partly cultivated^ and, thougli 
 the shores are rather low, it contains a number 
 of points which are a hundred feet high. At 
 the eastern termination of this island is the 
 parish of St. Laurent, a remarkably tidy French 
 village, whose inhabitants are said to be as simple 
 in their manners as they are virtuous and ignorant 
 of the world at large. On a smaller island, which 
 lies some thirty miles below Quebec, and directly 
 opposite a noble cape called Tourment, the qua- 
 rantine station for the shipping of the river is si- 
 tuated ; and when I passed this spot I counted no 
 less than forty-five ships at anchor, nearly all of 
 which were freighted with foreign paupers, who 
 were then dying of the ship fever at the rate of 
 one hundi'ed and fifty individuals per day. I 
 might here mention that the vessels usually seen 
 on this part of the St. Lawrence are merchant 
 ships and brigs, which are chiefly and extensively 
 Employed in the lumber and timber trade. Another 
 island in this portion of the St. Lawrence, which 
 attracts attention from its peculiar sylvan beauty, 
 is called Choose Island, and owned by a Sisterhood 
 of Nuns, who have cultivated it extensively. The 
 eastern portion of it is yet covered with forest ; 
 the channels on either side are not far from five 
 
168 JOURNEY DOWN THE ST. LAWRENCE. 
 
 miles wide, and it is distant about fifty miles from 
 Quebec. 
 
 We landed here at sunset j and while my com- 
 panions were building a watch-fire and cooking a 
 supper of fish, pork, and onions, I amused myself 
 by taking sundry observations. I found the vege- 
 tation of the island very luxuriant, the common 
 hard woods of the north prevailing ; but its founda- 
 tion seemed to be composed of two distinct species 
 of sandstone. Both varieties were of the finest 
 grain, and while one was of a rich Indian red, the 
 other was a deep blue. This portion of the St. 
 Lawrence is a good deal blocked up by extensive 
 reefs composed of these identical sandstones, and at 
 one point they extend so nearly across the river as 
 to render the ship navigation extremely dangerous. 
 On subsequently examining the high hills on the 
 north shore, in this vicinity, I found them to be of 
 soUd . granitC; veined with red marble and exten- 
 sive beds of quartz, and covered with a stunted 
 forest of pine and hemlock. But this geological 
 dissertation is keeping my pen from df scribing a 
 night picture, which it was my privilege to witness 
 on this beautiful but badly named island, where, 
 for sundry reasons, we intended to spend the 
 night. 
 
THE NORTHERN LIGHTS. 
 
 169 
 
 Our supper was ended^ and the skipper had paid 
 his last visit to the little craft, and, with his boy, 
 had smoked himself to sleep by our camp-fire. 
 The sky was without a cloud, but studded with 
 stars, and the breeze which kissed my cheek was 
 soft and pleasant as the breath of one we dearly 
 love. I had seated myself upon a rock, with my 
 face turned towards the north, when my attention 
 was attracted by a column of light which shot up- 
 ward to the zenith behind the distant mountains. 
 The broad expanse of the St. Lawrence was without 
 a ripple, and the mountains, together with the 
 column of light and the unnumbered stars, were 
 distinctly mirrored in its bosom. 
 
 While looking upon this scene, the idea struck 
 me thai the moon was about to rise; but I soon 
 saw a crimson glow stealing up the sky, and knew 
 that I WP3 looking upon the fantastic performances 
 of the Northern Lights. Broad, and of the purest 
 white, were the many rays which shot upward from 
 behind the mountain : and at equal^ distances 
 between the horizon and the zenith were displayed 
 four arches of a purple hue, the uppermost one 
 melting imperceptibly in the deep blue sky. On 
 again turning my eyes upward, I discovered that 
 the columns and arches had all disappeared, and 
 
 I 
 
170 
 
 BATTLE BETWEEN 
 
 that the entire sky was covered with a crimson 
 colour, which resembled a lake of liquid fire tossed 
 into innumerable waves. Strange were my feelings 
 as I looked upon this scene, and thought of the 
 unknown wilderness before me, and of the Being 
 whose ways are past finding out, and who holdeth 
 the entire world, with its cities, mountains, rivers, 
 and boundless wildernesses, in the hollow of his 
 hand. 
 
 Long and intently did I gaze upon this wonder 
 of the north ; and at the moment that it was fading 
 away, a wild swan passed over my head, sailing 
 towards Hudson's Bay, and as his lonely song 
 echoed along the silent air, I retraced my steps to 
 the watch-fire and was soon a dreamer. 
 
 That portion of the St. Lawrence extending 
 between Goose Island and the Saguenay, is about 
 twenty miles wide. The spring tides rise and £iJl 
 a distance of eighteen feet ; the water is salt, but 
 clerr and cold, and the channel very deep. Here 
 it was that I first saw the black seal, the white 
 porpoise, and the black whale. But speaking of 
 whales reminds me of a "whaling" fish story. 
 A short distance above the Saguenay river there 
 shoots out into the St. Lawrence, to the distance of 
 about eight miles, a broad sand-bank, which greatly 
 
A WHALE AND SWORD-FISH. 
 
 171 
 
 endangers the navigation. In descending the great 
 river we had to double this cape, and it was at this 
 point that I first saw a whale. The fellow had 
 been pursued by a sword-fish, and when we dis- 
 covered him his head was turned towards the beach, 
 and he was moving with great rapidity, occasionally 
 performing a most fearful leap, and uttering a 
 sound that resembled the bellowing of a thousand 
 bulls. The whale must have been forty feet long, 
 and his enemy nearly twenty j and as they hurried 
 on their course with great speed, the sight was 
 indeed terrible. Frantic with rage and pain, it so 
 happened that the more unwieldly individual forgot 
 his bearings, and in a very few minutes he was 
 floundering about on the sand-bar in about ten feet 
 of water, when the rascally sword-fish immediately 
 beat a retreat. After awhile, however, the whale re- 
 solved to rest himself ; but, as the tide was going 
 out, his intentions were soon changed, and he began 
 to roll himself about and slap the water with his 
 tail for the purpose of getting clear. His efforts 
 in a short time proved successful; and when we 
 last saw him he was in the deepest part of the river, 
 moving rapidly towards the Gulf, and spouting up 
 the water as if congratulating himself upon his 
 narrow escape. 
 
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 (716) 873-4503 
 
 
 

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 6 
 
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172 
 
 THE SAOUENAY. 
 
 In about two hours after witnessing this incident, 
 our boat was moored at the mouth of the Sagucnay; 
 and of the comparatively unknown wilderness which 
 this stream waters, my readers will find some in- 
 formation in the next chapter. 
 
 fflAL^*Ati:'A."^;.i^'^:'-^'?^ti'^'*--'i^'---^jt.-;'jt'-^^ 
 
THE SAGUENAY RIVER. 
 
 173 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 The Saguenay River— Chicoutimi— Storm Picture— Hudson's Bay 
 Company— Eminent Merchant— The Mountaineer Indians— 
 Tadousac — Ruin of a Jesuit Establishment. 
 
 Tadousac. July. 
 
 About one hundred and fifty miles north of the 
 St. Lawrence, and on one of the trails leading to 
 Hudson's Bay, lies a beautiful Lake called St. John. 
 It is about forty miles long, and surrounded with a 
 heavily timbered and rather level country. Its in- 
 lets are numerous, and twelve of them are regular 
 rivers. Its waters are clear, and abound in a great 
 variety of uncommonly fine fish. The principal 
 outlet to this Lake is the Saguenay river, which 
 takes a southerly direction, and empties into the 
 St. Lawrence. It is the largest tributary of the 
 great river, and unquestionably one of the most 
 remarkable on the continent. Its original Indian 
 
 ,~t. 
 
 ■rW 
 
 •n 
 
 :» 
 
174 
 
 THE SAGUENAY. 
 
 fji 1 
 
 name was Chicoutimi, signifying Deep Water; but 
 the early Jesuit missionaries, who have scattered 
 their Saint-anic names over this entire country, 
 thought proper to give it the name which it now 
 bears, and the round-about interpretation of which 
 is. Nose of the Sack, This name suggests to the 
 world that the nose of St. John must have been a 
 very long nose, and may be looked upon as a 
 unique specimen of French poetry. 
 
 The scenery of the Saguenay is wild and romantic 
 to an uncommon degree. The first half of its 
 course averages half a mile in width, and runs 
 through an untrodden wilderness of pine and spruce 
 covered hills. It abounds in waterfalls and rapids, 
 and is only navigable for the Indian canoe. A few 
 miles below the most southern fall on the river the 
 village of Chicoutimi is situated, where an exten- 
 sive lumbering business is transacted, and the Hud- 
 son's Bay Company have an important post. The 
 village has an ancient appearance, and contains 
 about five hundred inhabitants, chiefly Canadian 
 French. The only curiosity in the place is a rude 
 CathoUc Church, which is said to have been built 
 by Jesuit missionaries upwards of one hundred 
 years ago. It occupies the centre of a grassy lawn, 
 surrounded with shrubbery, backed by a cluster of 
 wood-crowned hills, and commands a fine prospect. 
 
 
GRAND BAY. 
 
 175 
 
 a 
 
 not only of the Saguenay, but also of a spacious 
 bay, into which there empties a noble mountain 
 stream, now known as Chicoutimi River. In the 
 belfry of this venerable church hangs a clear-toned 
 bell, with an inscription upon it which the learning 
 of Canada (with all its learned and unnumbered 
 priests) has not yet been able to translate or 
 expound. But, great as is the mystery of this 
 inscription, it is less myrterious to my mind than 
 are the motives of. the Romish Church in planting 
 the cross in the remotest comers of the earth, as 
 well as in the mightiest of cities. 
 
 About ten miles south of Chicoutimi there re- 
 cedes from the west bank of the Saguenay, to the 
 distance of ten miles, a beautiful expanse of water 
 called Grand Bay* The original name of this bay 
 was "Ha, Ha,^' descriptive of the surprise which 
 the French experienced when they first entered into 
 it, supposing that it was the Saguenay, until their 
 shallop grounded on the north-western shore. At 
 the head thereof is another settlement, similar to 
 Chicoutimi. Between these two places the Sague- 
 nay is rather shallow, (when compared with the 
 remainder of its course,) and varies in width from 
 two and a half to three miles. The tides of the 
 ocean are observable as far north as Chicoutimi, 
 
 'A, 
 
 'til 
 
 m 
 
 
'b'< :i 
 
 176 
 
 THE SAGUENAY. 
 
 ! 
 
 and this entire section of the river is navigable for 
 ships of the largest class. 
 
 That portion of the Saguenay extending from 
 Grand Bay to the St. Lawrence, a distance of sixty 
 miles, is gi'eatly distinguished for its wild and 
 pictui'esque sceneiy. I know not that I can better 
 pourtray to my reader^s mind the peculiarity of this 
 river than by the following method : imagine for a 
 moment an extensive country of rocky and thinly- 
 clad mountains, suddenly separated by some con- 
 vulsion of Nature so as to form an almost bottomless 
 chasm, varying from one to two miles in width; 
 and then imagine this chasm suddenly half-filled 
 with water, and that the moss of centuries has 
 softened the rugged walls on either side, and you 
 will have a pretty accurate idea of the Sague- 
 nay. 
 
 The shores of this river are composed principally 
 of granite, and every bend presents you with an 
 imposing bluff, the majority of which are eight 
 hundred feet high, and many of them upwards 
 of fifteen hundred. And, generally speaking, these 
 towering bulwarks are not content to loom perpen- 
 dicularly into the air, but they must needs bend 
 over as if to look at their own savage features 
 reflected in the deep. Ay, and that word deep 
 
 H 
 
THE SAGUENAY. 
 
 177 
 
 tells but the simple truth ; for the flood that rolls 
 beneath is black and cold as the bottomless pit. 
 To speak without a figure, and from actual mea- 
 surement, I can state that many portions of the 
 Saguenay are one thousand feet deep, and the 
 shallowest spots not much less than one hundred. 
 In many places, too, the water is as deep as five feet 
 from the rocky barriers as it is in the centre of 
 the stream. The feelings which filled my breast, 
 and the thoughts which oppressed my brain, as 
 I paddled by these places in my canoe, were allied 
 to those which almost over\vhelmed me when I 
 first looked upward from below the Fall, to the 
 mighty flood of Niagara. Awful beyond expression, 
 I can assure you, is the sensation which one 
 experiences in sailing along the Saguenay, to raise 
 his eyes heavenward and behold hanging directly 
 over his head a mass of granite, apparently ready to 
 totter and fall, and weighing perhaps a million 
 tons. Terrible and sublime, beyond the imagery 
 of the most daring poet, are these cliff's; and, 
 while they proclaim the omnipotent power of God, 
 they at the same time whisper into the ear of man 
 that he is but as the moth which flutters in the 
 noontide air. And yet, is it not enough to fill 
 the heart of man with holy pride and unbounded 
 love, to remember that the soul within him will 
 
 I 3 
 
 >H 
 
 •iii 
 
 
 m 
 
 
178 
 
 A STORM. 
 
 I ■ 
 
 but have commenced its existence when all the 
 mountains of the world shall have been consumed 
 as a scroll ? 
 
 It is to the Saguenay that I am indebted 
 for one of the most imposing storm pictures that 
 I ever witnessed. It had been a most oppressive 
 day, and, as I was passing up the river at a late 
 hour in the afternoon, a sudden gust of wind 
 came rushing down the stream, causing my Indian 
 companion to bow, as if in prayer, and then to 
 urge our frail canoe towards a little rocky island, 
 upon which we immediately landed. 
 
 Soon as we had surmounted our refuge, the 
 sky was overcast with a pall of blackness, which 
 completely enveloped the cliffs on either side, and 
 gave the roaring waters a death-like hue. Then 
 broke forth from above our heads the heavy roar 
 of thunder, and, as it gradually increased in 
 compass and became more threatening and im- 
 petuous, its volleys were answered by a thousand 
 echoes, which seemed to have been startled from 
 every crag in the wilderness, while flashes of the 
 most vivid lightning were constantly illuminating 
 the gloomy storm-made cavern which appeared 
 before us. Down upon his knees again fell my 
 poor Indian comrade, and, while I sat by his side, 
 trembling with terror, the thought actually flew 
 
PLEASING THOUGHTS. 
 
 179 
 
 
 into my mind that I was on the point of passing 
 into eternity. Soon, however, the wind ceased 
 blowing, the thunder to roar, and the lightning to 
 Hash ; and in less than one hour after its com- 
 mencement, the storm had subsided, and that por- 
 tion of the Saguenay was glowing beneath the 
 crimson rays of the setting sun. 
 
 From what I have written, my reader may Ic 
 impressed with the idea that this river is incapable 
 of yielding pleasurable sensations. Sail along its 
 shores on a pleasant day, when its cliffs are partly 
 hidden in shadow, and covered with a gauze-like 
 atmosphere, and they will fill your heart with 
 images of beauty. Or, if you would enjoy a still 
 greater variety, let your thoughts flow away upon 
 the blue smoke which rises from an Indian en- 
 campment, hidden in a dreamy-looking cove; let 
 your eye follow an eagle swooping along his airy 
 pathway near the summit of the cliffs, or glance 
 across the watery plain, and see the silver salmon 
 leaping by hundreds into the air . . their insect 
 food. Here, too, you may always discover a number 
 of seals, bobbing their heads out of water, us if 
 watching your every movement ; and, on the other 
 hand, a drove of white porpoises, rolling their huge 
 bodies along the waters, ever and anon spouting 
 
 m 
 
 i 
 
 f\* 
 
 m 
 
 It 
 
 
 ' I'iA 
 
 4h 
 
180 
 
 (iEMS Or SCENERY. 
 
 a shower of liquid diamonds into the air. O yes, 
 manifold indeed, and beautiful beyond compare, 
 are the charms of the Saguenay ! 
 
 Although my description of this river has thus 
 far been of a general character, I would not omit 
 to mention, as perfect gems of scenery, Trinity 
 Point, Eternity Cape, the Tableau, and la Tete 
 
 
 "^-^'^iQI,.!"^ 
 
 CAPE TRINITY. 
 
 du Boule. The peculiarities of these promontories 
 are so well described by their very names, that I 
 shall refrain from attempting a particular descrip- 
 tion of my own. 
 
 The wilderness through which this river loins 
 is of such a character that its shores can never 
 
 i:j^gs^^^^^^. 
 
 P^^M^^ 
 
Hudson's bay company. 
 
 181 
 
 lie ji;r('atly cha gcd in their external appearance. 
 Only a small proportion of its soil can ever be 
 brought under cultivation; and, as its forests an; 
 a good deal stunted, its lumbering resources are far 
 from being inexhaustible. The wealth which it con- 
 tains is probably of a mineral character ; and if the 
 reports I hear are correct, it abounds in iron ore. 
 That it would yield an abundance of fine marble, I 
 am certain ; for in passing up this stream, the 
 observing eye will frequently fall upon a broad vein 
 of an article as pure as alabaster. 
 
 How is it, many people are led to inquire, that 
 so little has been known of the Saguenay country 
 until recently? This question is easily solved. 
 It is a portion of that vast territory which has 
 heretofore been under the partial jurisdiction of 
 the Hudson's Bay Company. I say partially, 
 for the rights of that powerful monopoly, as I 
 understand the matter, extended only to the pro- 
 tection and use of its wild animals; but it has 
 endeavoured to convince the would-be settler that it 
 was the sole proprietor of the immense domain, and 
 that he had no right to live thereon. Its posts 
 on the Saguenay and St. Lawrence, so far as 
 collecting furs is concerned, are a dead letter, and 
 the journeys of its distinguished Governor are 
 hereafter to be confined to the extremp, north. 
 
 It 
 
 'V;>^ 
 
 ' *■« 
 
 ■ M 
 
 ivJh 
 
 m 
 
 
 
I'y. 
 .i' ■ 
 ■I 'i 
 
 182 
 
 MR. PRICE. 
 
 The man who deserves the most credit for en- 
 croaching upon the so-called possessions of the 
 Hudson's Bay Company, and proving to the world 
 that its power is not without limit, is William 
 Price, Esq., of Quebec. All the saw-mills situated 
 on the Saguenay and the lower St. Lawrence, 
 were established by him, and are now conducted 
 at his expense. He gives employment to some 
 two or three thousand men, and sends to England 
 annually about one hundred ship-loads of lumber, 
 in the shape of deals. He is a thorough-going 
 business man, and, did I not know the fact to 
 be otherwise, I should set him down (with regard 
 to his enterprise) as a thorough native of the 
 Union. Many of the ships alluded to ascend the 
 Saguenay to obtain lumber, as far as Chicoutimi ; 
 and it struck me as singularly paradoxical to see 
 ships winding up that river, whose legitimate home 
 would seem to be the broad ocean. The current 
 of the Saguenay flows in some places at the rate 
 of seven miles per hour; but when there is 
 any wind at all, it blows heavily directly from 
 the north or south, so that, with the assistance 
 of the tide, the upward-bound ships or brigs, 
 manage to get along without much difficulty. The 
 only steam- boat which navigates this river is the 
 Pocahontas, and is the property of Mr. Price. 
 
 # 
 
THE MOUNTAINEERS. 
 
 183 
 
 v 
 
 She is commanded by a gentleman who understands 
 his business ; and I can assure the lovers of scenery 
 eveiywhere, that a sail up the Saguenay, in this 
 steamer, would be an event they could not easily 
 forget. For the benefit of summer tourists, I would 
 here mention the fact, that for about three months 
 in the year a Quebec steamer makes an occasional 
 trip to the mouth of the Saguenay, by the way 
 of the river Du Loup, which is on the Canadian 
 route to Halifax. 
 
 In speaking of the Saguenay, I must not omit 
 to mention its original proprietors, a tribe of 
 Indians who are known as the Mountaineers. Of 
 course, it is the duty of my pen to record the fact, 
 that where once flourished a large nation of brave 
 and heroic warriors, there now exists a little band 
 of about one hundred families. Judging from what 
 I have heard and seen, the Mountaineers were once 
 the very flower of this northern wilderness, even 
 as the Chippeways were once the glory of the 
 Lake Superior region. The Mountaineers of the 
 present day are sufficiently educated to speak a 
 smattering of French, but they know nothing of 
 the true God, and are as poor in spirit, as they 
 are indigent with regard to the necessaries of life. 
 The men of this nation are rather short, but well- 
 fonned, and the women are beautiful. They are 
 
 ill 
 
 li 
 
 ')^l 
 
 i 
 
 i m 
 
184 
 
 TADOUSAC. 
 
 proud in spirit, intelligent, and kind-hearted ; and 
 many of them, it is pleasant to know, are no longer 
 the victims of the baneful fire-water. For this 
 blessing they are indebted to the Romish priest- 
 hood, which fact it gives me pleasure to record. 
 The Mountaineers are a particularly honest people, 
 and great friends to the stranger white-man. They 
 are also distinguished for their expertness in hunt- 
 ing, and take pleasure in recording the exploits 
 of their fort fathers. And their language, according 
 to a Catholic Missionary, Pierre de Roche, is one 
 of the oldest and purest Indian languages on the 
 continent. It abounds in Latin words, and is 
 capable of being regularly constructed and trans- 
 lated. The qualities, in fine, which make he 
 history of this people interesting are manifold, a l 
 it is sad to think of the rapidity with which the 
 are withering away, even as the leaves of a prem? 
 ture autumn 
 
 But it is time that I should give you a br. ^ 
 description of Tadousac, where I have been spend- 
 ing a few days, and whence I date my chapter. 
 The meaning of that word is a French corruption 
 of the Indian word Saguenay. It is situated directly 
 at the mouth of the Saguenay, and commands a 
 fine prospect of that river, as well as of the St. 
 Lawrence, which is here nearly thirty miles in 
 
CURIOUS JESUIT RUIN. 
 
 185 
 
 width. Immediately at the base of the hill upon 
 which the hamlet stands, is a beautiful bay, hemmed 
 in with mountains of solid rock. The place is 
 composed of houses belonging to an Indian trading- 
 post, and another dwelling occupied by a worthy 
 Scotchman named Rivington, who is a pilot by 
 profession. The door of my friend's cabin is always 
 open to the admission of the tourist ; and if others 
 who may chance to stop here are treated as kindly 
 as I was, they will be disposed to thank their stars. 
 In front of the trading-post are planted a few 
 cannon, and directly beyond them, at the present 
 time, is a small Indian encampment. 
 
 In a rock-bound bay, about half a mile north 
 of my temporary residence, is an extensive lumber- 
 ing establishment, belonging to William Price. 
 This spot is the principal port of the Saguenay, 
 and the one where belongs the Pocahontas steam- 
 boat. About a dozen paces from the table where 
 I am now writing, is the ruin of a Jesuit religious 
 establishment, which is considered the great curio- 
 sity of this region. The appearance of the ruin 
 is not imposing, as you can discover nothing, but 
 the foundations upon which the ancient edifice 
 rested; but it is confidently affirmed, that upon 
 this spot once stood the first stone and mortar 
 building ever erected on the continent of North- 
 
 ' 1 
 
 I'iJ 
 
 
 :fim 
 
186 
 
 CURIOUS JESUIT RUIN. 
 
 America. And this statement I am not disposed 
 to question^ for, from the very centre of the ruin 
 have grown a cluster of pine trees, which must 
 have been exposed to the wintry blasts of at least 
 two hundred years. The fate and the veiy names 
 of those who first pitched their tents in this wilder- 
 ness, and here erected an altar to the God of their 
 fathers, are alike unknown. Who — ^who can tell 
 
 what shall be on the morrow ? \. , , ., .< - 
 
 ..,-„. . -■*• ' ^j- J, ' '' ■ 
 
 
osed 
 ruin 
 nust 
 east 
 mes 
 ier- 
 heir 
 tell 
 
 THE SALMON. 
 
 187 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 The Salmon — Salmon Adventures. 
 
 Tadousac. June. 
 
 I INTEND to devote the present letter to the 
 acknowledged king of all the finny tribes, the 
 lithe, wild, and beautiful salmon. He pays an 
 annual visit to all the tributaries of the St. Law- 
 rence lying between Quebec and Bic Island, (where 
 commences the Gulf of St. Lawrence), but he is 
 most abundant on the north shore, and in those 
 streams which are beyond the jurisdiction of civi- 
 lization. He usually makes his first appearance 
 about the twentieth of May, and continues in 
 season for two months. Nearly all the streams 
 of this region abound in waterfalls, but those are 
 seldom found, which the salmon does not surmount 
 in his "excelsior" pilgrimage; and the stories 
 
188 
 
 INDIAN MODE OF 
 
 f^ 
 
 related of his leaps are truly wonderful. It is not 
 often that he is found man hound at the head 
 of the streams he may have ascended ; hut whc i 
 thus found and captured, his flesh is white, skin 
 black, and his form "long, lank, and lean as is 
 the rebbid sea-sand." His weight is commonly 
 about fifteen pounds, but he is sometimes taken 
 weighing full forty pounds. The salmon is an 
 important article of export from this region, and 
 is also extensively used by the Indians. The 
 common mode for taking them is with a stationary 
 net, which is set just on the margin of the river 
 at low water. It is customary with the salmon 
 to ascend the St. Lawrence as near the shore as 
 possible, and their running time is when the tide 
 is high; the consequence is, that they enter the 
 net at one tide, and are taken out at another ; 
 and it is frequently the case, that upwards of 
 three hundred are taken at one time. The Indian 
 mode for taking them is with the spear by torch- 
 light. Two Indians generally enter a canoe, and 
 while one paddles it noiselessly along, the other 
 holds forth the light (which attracts the attention 
 of the fish, and causes them to approach their 
 enemy), and pierces them with the cruel spear. 
 This mode of taking the salmon is to be depre- 
 cated, but the savage must live, and possesses no 
 
SALMON FISHING. 
 
 189 
 
 of 
 
 other means for catching them. It is but seldom 
 that the Indian takes more than a dozen during 
 a single night, for he cannot aflford to waste the 
 bounties which he receives from Nature. For pre- 
 serving the salmon, the Canadians have three 
 modes: first, by putting them in salt for three 
 days, and then smoking them ; secondly, by regu- 
 arly salting them down as you would mackerel ; 
 and, thirdly, by boiling, and then pickling them 
 in vinegar. The Indians smoke them, but only 
 to a limited extent. 
 
 I must now give you some account of my expe- 
 rience in the way of salmon-fishing with the fly, 
 of which glorious sport I have recently had an 
 abundance. If, however, I should give you a 
 number of episodes, you will please to remember 
 that '^ it is my way,'* and that I deem it a privilege 
 of the angler to be as wayward in his discourse 
 as are the channels of his favourite mountain 
 streams. 
 
 , My first salmon expedition of the season was 
 to the St. Margaret River. I had two companions 
 with me ; one an accomplished fly-fisher of Quebec, 
 and the other the principal man of Tadousac, a 
 lumber merchant. We went in a gig-boat belong- 
 ing to the latter, and, having started, at nine 
 o'clock, we reached our place of destination by 
 
 ■ 1 1 
 
 
190 
 
 EXCITING SPORT. 
 
 "i" 
 
 twelve. We found the river uncommonly high, 
 and a little rily. We made a desperate effort, 
 however, and threw the line about three hours, 
 capturing four salmon, only one of which was 
 it my privilege to take. He was a handsome 
 fellow, weighing seventeen pounds, and in good 
 condition; he afforded my companions a good 
 deal of fun, and placed me in a peculiar situa- 
 tion. He had taken the hook when I was wading 
 in swift water up to my middle, and as soon as he 
 discovered his predicament, he made a sudden 
 wheel and started down the stream* My rod 
 bent nearly double, and I saw that I must give 
 him all the line he wanted ; and having only three 
 hundred feet on my reel, I found it necessary to 
 follow him with all speed. In doing so I lost 
 my footing, and was swept by the current against 
 a pile of logs; meantime, my reel was in the 
 water and whizzing away at a tremendous rate. 
 The log upon which I depended, happened to be 
 in a balancing condition, and, when I attempted 
 to surmount it, it plunged into the current and 
 floated down the stream, having your humble 
 servant astride of one end, and clinging to it 
 with all his might. Onward went the salmon, 
 tWe log, and the fisherman. Finally, the log 
 found its way into an eddy of the river, and. 
 
A BOLD CAPTURE. 
 
 191 
 
 while it was swinging about as if out of mere 
 malice, I left it, and fortunately reached the 
 shore. My life having been spared, I was more 
 anxious than ever to take the life of the salmon 
 which had caused the ducking, and so I held aloft 
 my rod, and continued down the stream over an 
 immense number of logs and rocks, which seemed 
 to have been placed there for my especial annoy- 
 ance. On coming in sight of my fish, I found 
 him in still water, with his belly turned upward 
 and completely drowned. I immediately drew 
 him on a sand-bank near by, and, while engaged 
 in the reasonable employment of drying my clothes, 
 my brother fishermen came up to congratulate 
 me upon my success, but laughing in the mean- 
 time most heartily. The limiber merchant said, 
 that the log I had been riding belonged to him, 
 and it was his intention to charge me one shilling 
 for my passage from the rift where I had hooked 
 the salmon to the spot where I had landed him, 
 which was in full view of the Saguenay ; and my 
 Quebec friend remarked, that he knew the people 
 of Yankee-land had a queer way of doing things, 
 but he was not acquainted with their peculiar 
 mode of taking salmon. As may be readily 
 imagined, we retraced our steps back to the log 
 shantee where we had stopped, and, having care- 
 
 
 I 
 
 ■'.n 
 m 
 
 ';!* 
 
 "m 
 
 •^3 
 
192 
 
 AN UNCEREMONIOUS PARTY. 
 
 fully stowed away our salmon, we laid aside our 
 fishing tackle, and made arrangements for a little 
 sport of another kind. 
 
 The hamlet of St. Margaret, where we spent the 
 night, contains some eight or ten log shantees, 
 which are occupied by about twenty families, com- 
 posed of Canadians, Indians, and half-breeds. They 
 obtain their living by " driving" logs, and are as 
 happy as they are ignorant. Anxious to see what 
 we could of society among this people, we sent 
 forth a manifesto calling upon the citizens generally 
 to attend a dance at the cabin of a certain man, 
 whom we had engaged to give the party at our 
 expense. Punctual to. the appointed hour the 
 assembly came together. Many of the men did 
 not take the trouble even to wash their hands, 
 or put on a coat before coming to the party ; but 
 the women were neatly dressed, with blue and 
 scarlet petticoats, over which were displayed night- 
 gowns of white cotton. The fiddler was an Indian, 
 and the dancing-hall (some twelve feet square) was 
 lighted with a wooden lamp, supplied with seal- 
 oil. The dance was without any particular method, 
 and when a gentleman wished to trip the light 
 fantastic toe, he only had to station himself on 
 the floor, when one of his friends would select 
 his partner, and lead her up for his acceptance. 
 
FISHING IN THE ESQUEMAIN. 
 
 193 
 
 Jrally 
 man, 
 : our 
 the 
 did 
 mds; 
 but 
 and 
 
 The consequence was, that if a man wished to 
 dance with any particular lady, he was obliged to 
 make a previous arrangement with his leading-up 
 friend. The fiddler not only furnished all the 
 music, but also performed a goodly portion of the 
 dancing — ^fiddling and dancing at the same time. 
 The supper was laid on the table at ten o'clock, 
 and consisted principally of dried beaver-tail and 
 cariboo meat, fried and boiled salmon, (which was 
 cooked out of doors near the entrance to the cabin), 
 rye-bread, maple molasses, and tea. 
 
 The party broke up at twelve o'clock ; when we 
 retired to the cabin where we had secured lodgings, 
 and it is an actual fact, that our sleeping-room on 
 that night was occupied not only by ourselves, 
 but by two women, one man, and four children, 
 (divided into three beds), all members of the same 
 family, with whom we had succeeded in obtaining 
 accommodations. On the following morning we 
 rose at an early hour, and again tried oui* luck 
 at salmon-fishing, but only killed a few trout; 
 whereupon we boarded our gig and started down 
 the romantic Saguenay, telling stories and singing 
 songs. 
 
 Another river in this region which affords good 
 salmon fishing is the Esquemain. It empties itself 
 into the St. Lawrence about twenty miles east of the 
 
 K 
 
 •U 
 
194 
 
 SALMON FISHING 
 
 
 Saguenay. It is a cold, clear, and rapid stream, 
 abounding in rapids and deep pools. At its mouth 
 is situated a saw-mill, but its water-works are so 
 managed as not to interfere with the salmon. The 
 fish of this stream ascend to a great distance, 
 and, though rather small, are exceedingly abundant. 
 
 The best fishing in the river is at the foot of 
 a waterfall, which forms a sheet of foam, about one 
 mile above the mouth. My Quebec friend accom- 
 panied me to this place, and, though we only threw 
 the fly about six houi's (three in the evening and three 
 in the morning), yet we killed thirteen salmon, 
 without loosing a single line, and with the loss 
 of only three flies. 
 
 Owing to the- bushy shores of the stream, we 
 were compelled to fish standing upon boulders 
 situated in its centre; and whenever we hooked 
 a fish, there was no alternative but to plunge into 
 the current and trust to fortune. For some un- 
 accountable reason (of course it could not have 
 been our fault), we lost more than half of those we 
 hooked ; but it was worth a moderate fortune to see 
 the magnificent leaps which the fish performed, not 
 only when they took the fly, but when they at- 
 tempted to escape. There was not one individual 
 that did not give us a race of at least half a mile. 
 The largest taken during this expedition was killed 
 
9$ 
 
 IN THE ESQUEMAIN. 
 
 195 
 
 by my companion, and caused more trouble than 
 all his other prizes. Not only did this fellow 
 attempt to clear himself by stemming the foam 
 of a rapid, and rubbing his nose against a rock 
 to break the hook, but he also swept himself 
 completely round a large boulder, poked his head 
 into a net, and ran with the speed of lightning 
 to the extreme end of his line. It took my friend 
 forty minutes to land this salmon ; and I can assure 
 you that he was particularly pleased when he found 
 that his fish weighed one pound more than the 
 largest 1 had taken. The fact was, our rods were 
 almost precisely alike in length and strength ; and, 
 as two countries were represented in our persons, 
 the strife between us was desperate. I will acknow- 
 ledge that the Canada gentleman took the largest 
 salmon ; but the States' angler took them in the 
 greatest number. 
 
 Notwithstanding all the fine sport that we en- 
 joyed on the Esquemain, I am compelled to state 
 that it was more than counterbalanced by the 
 suffering that we endured from the black fly and 
 musquito. The black fly is about half as large 
 as the common house fly, and, though it bites 
 you only in the day-time, they are as abundant in 
 the air as the sand upon the sea-shore, and 
 venomous to an uncommon degree. The musquito 
 
 K 2 
 
 i'.i 
 
196 
 
 ♦4 
 
 MUSQUITOES. 
 
 of this region is an uncommonly gaunt, long- 
 leggedj and hungry creature, and his howl is pecu- 
 liarly horrible. 
 
 We had been almost devoured by the black flies 
 during the afternoon, and as soon as darkness came, 
 we secured a couple of beds in a Frenchman's 
 house, and as we tumbled in, congratulated our- 
 selves upon a little comfortable repose. It was 
 an exceedingly sultry night, and^ though we were 
 both in a complete fever from the fly-poison circu- 
 lating in our veins, the heat excelled the fever, 
 and our bodies were Uterally in a melting condition. 
 We endeavoured to find relief by lying on the 
 bare floor, with no covering but a single sheet ; and 
 this arrangement might have answered, had it not 
 been for the flood of musquitoes which poured into 
 the room, as one of us happened to open a window 
 to obtain fresh air. Every spot on our bodies, 
 which the flies had left untouched, was immediately 
 settled upon by these devils in miniature. They 
 pierced the very sheets that covered us, and sucked 
 away at our blood without any mercy. 
 
 Unwilling to depart this life without one effort 
 more to save it, we then dressed ourselves and 
 sauntered into the open air. We made our way 
 towards a pile of lumber near the saw-mill, and, 
 without a particle of covering, endeavoured to 
 
 
 ^^ 
 
A SLEEPLESS NIGHT. 
 
 197 
 
 flies 
 
 [effort 
 and 
 way 
 and. 
 
 Id to 
 
 obtain a little sleep; but the insect hounds soon 
 found us out, find we bolted for another place. 
 Our course now lay upwards the rude bridge which 
 spans the Esquemai//, just .ibove the mill. Our 
 intentions at tht time, though not uttered aloud, I 
 verily believe were of a fearful character. On 
 reaching the bridge, however, a refreshing breeze 
 sprang up, and we enjoyed a brief respite from our 
 savage enemies. 
 
 We now congratulated each other on our good 
 fortune, and had just resolved to be happy, when 
 we discovered a number of Indians in the river 
 spearing salmon by torch-light ; and as it was 
 after midnight, and the heathen were spearing on 
 our fishing-ground, we mournfully concluded that 
 our morning sport was at an end. But, while in 
 the very midst of this agi'eeable mood of mind, a 
 lot of skylarking musquitoes discovered our retreat, 
 and we were again besieged. We now endeavoured 
 to find relief on board the boat which had brought 
 us from the Saguenay, and here it was that we 
 spent the two last hours of that most miserable 
 night. 
 
 Though not exactly in a fitting condition to 
 throw the fly with any degree of comfort, we made 
 an effort after salmon in the morning, and suc- 
 ceeded in killing a portion of the thirteen already 
 
 I 
 
 ''■>T 
 
 
198 
 
 PERILOUS SITUATION. 
 
 i 
 
 I i 
 
 U 
 
 /1 
 
 mentioned. That we e Joyed the good breakfast 
 which we had prepared for our especial benefit, and 
 that we departed from Esquemain as soon as pos- 
 sible, are facts which I consider self-evident. 
 
 The mouth of the Saguenay, as I have before 
 remarked, is completely hemmed in with barriers 
 of solid rock ; and when the tide is flowing in, from 
 one of these points, first-rate salmon fishing may 
 occasionally be enjoyed. I have frequently had 
 the pleasure of throwing the fly on the point in 
 question, and on one occasion was so carried away 
 with the sport that I took no notice of the rising 
 tide. It was near th .aset hour, and on preparing 
 for my departure nome, I discovered that I was 
 completely surrounded with water, and that my 
 situation was momentarily becoming more dan- 
 gerous. The water was bitter cold and turbulent, 
 and the channel which separated me from the main 
 shore was upwards of a hundred yards wide. I 
 was more than half a mile from the nearest dwell- 
 ing, and could not see a single sail on the Saguenay, 
 or the still broader St. Lawrence, excepting a 
 solitary ship, which was ten leagues away. My 
 predicament, I assure you, was not to be envied. 
 I could not entertain the idea that I should lose 
 my life ; and, though I felt myself to be in danger, 
 my sensations were supremely ridiculous. But 
 
FORTUNATE RESCUE. 
 
 199 
 
 something, I was persuaded, must be done, and 
 that immediately; and so I commenced throwing 
 off my clothes for a final effort to save my life. 
 I had stripped off every thing but shirt and pan- 
 taloons, and to a flock of crows which were cawing 
 above my head I must have presented an interesting 
 picture. I thouglio of the famous swimming ad- 
 ventures of Leander and Lord Byron, and also 
 of the inconveniences of being drowned (as Charles 
 Lamb did of being hanged) ; but just as I was 
 about to make the important plunge, an Indian in 
 his canoe came gliding around a neighbouring point, 
 and 1 was rescued, together with one salmon and 
 some dozen pounds of trout. 
 
 But I have not finished my stoiy yet. On the 
 night following this incident, I retired to bed in 
 rather a sober mood, for I could not banish the 
 recollection of my narrow escape from a ducking, if 
 not from a watery grave. The consequence was, 
 that in my dreams I underwent ten times as much 
 mental suffering as I had actually endured. I 
 dreamed that in scaling the rocks which lead to 
 the point alluded to, I lost my footing, and fell into 
 the water. While in this condition, drinking more 
 salt water than I wanted, floundering about like a 
 sick porpoise, gasping for breath, and uttering a 
 most doleful moan, I was suddenly awakened, and 
 
 :i 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
200 
 
 A LUNATIC. 
 
 found my good landlord at my side^ tapping me on 
 the shoulder^ for the purpose of summoning me — 
 from the back of the nightmare I had been riding. 
 
 As I may not have another opportunity of 
 alluding to this portion of the Saguenay^ and to the 
 rocky point already alluded to, I must give my 
 reader another and a remarkable incident connected 
 with them. Some years ago, the Hudson's Bay 
 Company had in its employ as clerk, at Tadousac, 
 an intelligent and amiable young man, whose name 
 was McCray. For some unaccountable reason he 
 became deranged ; and on one occasion, a cold and 
 stormy winter night, he took it into his head to 
 cross the Saguenay upon the floating ice, which was 
 running at the time. When first discovered, he 
 was about half-way across the stream, and making 
 frightful leaps of ten and fifteen feet from one 
 block of ice to another. His friends followed in 
 close pursuit, with a boat, as soon as possible ; but 
 on reaching the opposite shore, the unhappy man 
 was not to be found. On the day following, 
 however, some people who were hunting for him 
 in the woods, discovered him perched in a tree, 
 almost frozen to death, and senseless as a clod 
 of the valley. He was taken home, the circu- 
 lation of his blood restored, and he is now an 
 inmate of the Quebec Lunatic Asylum. The mind 
 
STARTLING FEAT. 
 
 201 
 
 of this worthy 
 
 thought to be of a high 
 
 man w 
 
 order ; and it is certain that he possessed an exten- 
 sive knowledge of botany and geology. From 
 remarks that escaped him subsequently to the 
 wonderful feat he performed, it is supposed that, at 
 the time of starting across the river, he was think- 
 ing of a particular book which he wished to obtam, 
 and had been told could be purchased in Quebec, 
 towards which place (unattainable by land) he had 
 set out. It is worthy of record, that poor McCray 
 is the only man who ever crossed the deep and 
 angry Saguenay on the ice, as it is never solidly 
 frozen; and it is almost certain, that the feat he 
 performed, can never be again repeated. 
 
 But to return to my piscatorial remarks. Next 
 to the salmon, the finest sporting fish of this region 
 is the trout. Of these I have seen two species, the 
 salmon and the common trout. Of the former I 
 believe there is but one variety; but that is an 
 exceedingly fine fish for sport or the table, and is 
 found in the lower tributaries of the St. Lawrence, 
 from five to fifteen pounds. They are taken chiefly 
 in the salt water, and possess a flavour which the 
 trout of our Western lakes do not. Of the common 
 trout, I have seen at least six varieties, difi^ering, 
 however, only in colour; for some are almost 
 entirely white, others brown, some blue, some 
 
 K 3 
 
 M 
 
 I 
 

 J! 
 1 
 
 202 
 
 ABUNDANCE OP TROUT. 
 
 green, some black, and others yellow. These are 
 taken everywhere in the St. Lawrence, and in all its 
 tributaries. Those of the Saguenay are the largest, 
 most abundant, and of the rarest quality. Upon 
 the whole, I am inclined to set this river down 
 as affording the finest trout-fishing that I have ever 
 enjoyed, not even excepting that which I have 
 experienced at the Falls of St. Mary, in Michigan. 
 Almost every bay or cove in the Saguenay is 
 crowded with trout ; and, generally speaking, the 
 rocks upon which you have to stand afford an abun- 
 dance of room to swing ar?d drop the fly. In some 
 of the coves alluded to, I have frequently taken a 
 dozen two-pound trout during the single hour 
 before sunset. • , 
 
 Trout fishing, in this region, possesses a charm 
 which the angler seldom experiences in the rivers 
 and lakes of the United States, which consists in 
 his uncertainty as to the character of his prize 
 before he has landed him ; for it may be a common 
 or salmon trout, or a regular built salmon, as these 
 fish all swim in the same water. It is reported of 
 a celebrated angler of Quebec, that he once spent a 
 week on the Esquemain, and captured within that 
 time seventy salmcn, and upwards of a hundred 
 trout. This is a very strange story, but I have faith 
 enough to believe it true. 
 
ABUNDANCE OF FISH. 
 
 203 
 
 And now for a few remarks upon the fish of the 
 St. Lawrence generally. Cod are taken to a very 
 great extent, and constitute an important article of 
 commerce. Herring and mackerel are abundant, 
 also the hallibut and sardine. Shad are also taken, 
 but not in sufficient quantities to export. The 
 lobster, flounder, and oyster are also found in this 
 river ; and, with a few unimportant exceptions, these 
 are the only fish that flourish in this portion of the 
 great river. The sea-bass, the striped-bass, the 
 blue-fish, and the black-fish, for which I should 
 suppose these waters perfectly adapted, are entirely 
 unknown. 
 
I 
 
 i 
 
 204 
 
 SEAL-HUNTING. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 ii 
 
 SfS 
 
 I 
 
 n 
 
 '•Mi 
 
 Seal-hunting on the St. Lawrence — The white Porpoise. 
 
 Tadousac. July. 
 
 Before breakfast, this morning, I had the plea- 
 sure of taking fifteen common trout, and the 
 remainder of the day I devoted to seal-hunting. 
 This animal is found in great abundance in the 
 St. Lawrence, and by the Indians and a few white 
 people is extensively hunted. There are several 
 varieties found in these waters; and the usual 
 market price for the oil and skin, is five dollars. 
 They vary in size from four to eight feet, and are 
 said to be good eating. Many people make them a 
 principal article of food ; and while the Indians use 
 their skins for many purposes, they also light their 
 cabins with the oil. In sailing on the river, they 
 meet you at every turn ; and when I first saw or^-, 
 I thought that I was looking upon a drowning 
 
SKAL-HUNTIKG. 
 
 205 
 
 man ; for they only raise their heads out of the 
 water, and thus sustain themselves with their feet, 
 fins, pads, flippers, or whatever you may call them. 
 They live upon fish, and in many of their habits 
 closely resemble the otter. Tlieir paws have five 
 claws, joined together with a thick skin ; they 
 somewhat resemble the dog, and have a bearded 
 snout, like a cat, large bright eyes, and long sharp 
 teeth. They are a noisy animal, and when a num- 
 ber of them are sunning themselves upon the sand, 
 the screams they utter are doleful in the extreme, 
 somewhat resembling the cry of children. 
 
 My first seal expedition was performed in com- 
 pany with two professional hunters. We started 
 from shore with a yawl and a canoe, and made our 
 course for a certain spot in the St. Lawrence, where 
 the waters of the Saguenay and the flood tide came 
 together, and caused a terrible commotion. The 
 canoe led the way, occupied by one man, who was 
 supphed with a harpoon and a long line; while 
 the other hunter and myself came up in the rear, 
 for the purpose of rescuing the harpooner in case 
 an accident should happen, and also for the pm'pose 
 of shipping the plunder. The seal seems to delight 
 in frequenting the deepest water and more turbu- 
 lent whirlpools ; and the object of using a canoe, is 
 to steal upon him in the most successful manner. 
 
 .I'i 
 
 ii 
 
\m 
 
 206 
 
 SEAL-HUNTIKO. 
 
 If 
 
 i ) 
 
 We had not floated about the eddy more than 
 twenty minutes^ before a large black animal made 
 his appearance, about ten feet from the canoe ; 
 but, just as he was on the point of diving, the 
 hunter threw his harpoon, and gave him the line, to 
 which was attached a buoy. The poor creature 
 floundered about at a great rate, dived as far as 
 he could towards the bottom, and then leaped 
 entirely out of the water ; but the cruel spear 
 would not loosen its hold. Finally, after making 
 every effort to escape, and tinging the surrounding 
 water vrith a crimson hue, he gasped for breath a 
 few times, and sunk to the end of the rope, quite 
 dead. We then pulled him to the side of the boat, 
 and with a gaff-hook secured him therein, and the 
 hunt was renewed. In this manner did my com- 
 panions capture no less than three seals, before the 
 hour of noon. ' . 
 
 On one occasion, I noticed a large number of 
 seals, sunning themselves upon a certain sandy 
 point ; and as I felt an ^' itching palm" to obtain, 
 with my own hands, the material for a winter cap, I 
 spent the afternoon in the enjoyment of a " shooting 
 frolic, all alone." I borrowed a rifle of one of my 
 friends, and having passed over to the sandy point 
 in a canoe, I secreted myself in the midst of some 
 rocks, and awaited the game. I had not remained 
 
EXCITING SPORT. 
 
 207 
 
 quiet but a short time before a huge black seal 
 made his appearance, scrambling up the beach, 
 where he kept a sharp look-out for anything that 
 might do him harm. I admired the apparent intel- 
 ligence of the creature, as he dragged his clumsy 
 and legless body along the ground, and almost 
 regretted that it was doomed to die. True to my 
 ridiculous nature, however, I finally determined to 
 leave him unmolested for the present, hoping that 
 he would soon be accompanied by one of his fellow 
 seals, and that I should have a chance of killing a 
 pair. I was not disappointed ; and you will, there- 
 fore, please to consider me in full view of one of the 
 finest marks imaginable, and in the attitude of 
 firing. Crack went the rifle ; but my shot only had 
 the effect of temporarily rousing the animals ; and I 
 proceeded to reload my gun, wondering at the cause 
 of my missing, and feeling somewhat dissatisfied 
 with matters and things in general. Again was it 
 my privilege to fire, and I saw a stick fly into the 
 air, about thirty feet to the left of my game. The 
 animals were, of course, not at all injured, but just 
 enough frightened to turn their faces towards the 
 water, into which they shortly plunged, and entirely 
 disappeared. I returned to my lodgings, honestly 
 told my story, and was laughed at for my pains and 
 
 ■ if 
 
 m 
 
 m 
 
 M 
 
 rjil 
 
208 
 
 A TRUE STORY. 
 
 bad luck. It so happened, however, that the owner 
 of the gun imagined that something might be the 
 matter with the thing; and on examining it, he 
 found that one of the sights had been accidentally 
 knocked from its original position, which circum- 
 stance had been the " cause of my anguish ;" and, 
 though it restored to me my good name as a marks- 
 man, it aiforded me but little satisfaction. 
 
 But, that my chapter about seals may be worth 
 sealing, I will give you the history of an incident, 
 which illustrates the sagacity of an Indian in killing 
 his game. A Mik-mak hunter, with his family, 
 had reached the shore of the St. Lawrence, hungry 
 and short of ammunition. On a large sand-bank 
 which lay before him, at a time when the tide was 
 low, he discovered an immense number of seals. 
 He waited for the tide to flow and again to ebb, and 
 as soon as the sand appeared above the water, he has- 
 tened to the dry point, in his canoe, carrying only a 
 hatchet as a weapon. On this spot he immediately 
 dug a hole, into which he crept, and covered him- 
 self with a blanket. He then commenced uttering 
 a cry, in imitation of the seal, and in a short time 
 had collected about him a very large number of 
 those animals. He waited patiently for the tide to 
 retire so far that the animals would have to travel 
 
TUB WHITE FORVOISE. 
 
 200 
 
 ely 
 
 at least a mile by land before reaching the water ; 
 and, when the wished-for moment arrived, he sud- 
 denly fell upon the affrighted multitude, and with 
 his tomahawk, succeeded in slaughtering upwards of 
 one hundred. To many this may appear to be an 
 improbable story ; but when it is remembered that 
 this amphibious animal is an exceedingly slow land 
 traveller, it will be readily believed. The manner 
 in which our hunter managed to save his game^ was 
 to tie them together with bark, and when the tide 
 rose, tow them to the main shore. 
 
 Since I have brought my reader upon the waters 
 of the St. Lawrence, I will not permit him to go 
 ashore until I have given him an account of another 
 inhabitant of the deep which is found in very great 
 abundance, not only in this river, but also in the 
 Saguenay. I allude to the white porpoise. The 
 shape of this creature is similar to that of the whale, 
 though of a pure white colour, and usually only 
 about fifteen feet in length. They are exceedingly 
 fat, and yield an oil of the best quality ; while the 
 skin is capable of being turned into durable leather. 
 They are extensively used as an article of food : the 
 fins and tail when pickled are considered a delicacy ; 
 and their value is about twenty-five dollars a piece. 
 They are far from being a shy fish; and, when 
 
 [li 
 
 I 
 
 Mi 
 
 i 
 
r 
 
 210 
 
 MODE OP TAKING THE PORPOISE. 
 
 sailing about your vessel in large numbers, as is 
 often the case, they present a beautiful and unique 
 appearance. 
 
 For taking this fish the people of this region 
 have two methods. The first is to use i. boat with 
 a white bottom, behind which the fisherman tows a 
 small wooden porpoise, which is painted a dark 
 slate-colour, in imitation of the young of the 
 species. With these lures the porpoise is often 
 brought into the immediate vicinity of the harpoon, 
 which is invariably thrown with fatal precision. 
 In this manner an expert man will often take three 
 or four fine prizes in a day. 
 
 Another mode for taking these creatures is by 
 fencing them in. It appears that it is customary 
 for this fish to wander over the sand-bars, at high- 
 water, for the purpose of feeding. Profiting by 
 this knowledge, the fishermen enclose one of the 
 sandy reefs with poles set about three feet apart, 
 and sometimes covering a square mile. They leave 
 an appropriate opening for the porpoises, which are 
 sure to enter at high-water, and, owing to their 
 timidity, they are kept confined by the slender 
 barrier until the tide ebbs, when they are destroyed 
 in great numbers with very little trouble. It is 
 reported that a party of fishermen, some ninety 
 
SINGULAR STORY. 
 
 211 
 
 miles above the Saguenay, once took one hundred 
 and forty porpoises at one tide; and it is also 
 asserted, that in dividing the spoil the fishermen 
 had a very bitter quarrel — since which time, as the 
 story goes, not a single porpoise has ever been 
 taken on the shoal in question. 
 
 i 1 
 
 are 
 their 
 
 (•■»j 
 
 \ ■>:•'■ 
 
 
 )yed 
 
 [t is 
 
 lety 
 
 
212 
 
 THE ESQUIMAtTX. 
 
 CHAPTER XVL 
 
 ?■ ''i 
 
 '■\i 
 
 m ' t 
 
 The Bsquimaux Indians of Labrador. 
 
 Tadousac. July. 
 
 The vast region of country lying on the north 
 shore of the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and extending to 
 the eastward of the Saguenay as far as Newfound- 
 land, is generally known under the name of Labra- 
 dor. It is an exceedingly wild and desolate region, 
 and, excepting an occasional fishing hamlet or a 
 missionary station belonging to the worthy Mora- 
 vians, its only inhabitants are Indians. Of these 
 the more famous tribes are the Red Indians, (now 
 almost extinct,) the Hunting Indians, the Mik- 
 maks, and the Esquimaux. The latter nation is by 
 far the most numerous, and it is said that their 
 sway extends even to the coasts of Hudson's Bay. 
 They are, at the same time, the wildest and most 
 
ESQUIMAUX' ENCAMPMENT. 
 
 213 
 
 aon. 
 
 rude inhabitants of this wilderness, and in appear- 
 ance, as well as manners and customs, closely 
 resemble the inhabitants of Greenland. 
 
 During one of my nautical expeditions down the 
 St. Lawrence, I chanced to be wind-bound for a 
 couple of days at the mouth of a river on the 
 north shore, where I found a small encampment 
 of Esquimaux Indians. The principal man of the 
 party was exceedingly aged, and the only one who 
 could convey his thoughts in any other language 
 than his own. He had mingled much with the 
 French fur-traders of the north, and the French 
 fishermen of the east, and possessed a smattering of 
 their tongue. Seated by the side of this good old 
 man in his lodge, with a moose-skin for my seat, 
 a pack of miscellaneous furs to lean against, and a 
 rude seal-oil torch suspended over my head, I spent 
 many hours of one long-to-be-remembered night in 
 questioning him about his people. The substance 
 of the information I then collected it is now my 
 purpose to record; — but it should be remembered 
 that I speak of the nation at large, and not of any 
 particular tribe. ; 
 
 According to my informant, the extent of the 
 Esquimaux nation is unknown, for they consider 
 themselves as numerous as the waves of the sea. 
 Much has been done to give them an education, 
 
 ■I'i 
 
 m 
 !4| 
 
 i>il 
 
 'm 
 
 i <f M 
 
 m 
 
11! 
 
 m 
 
 214 
 
 SUPERSTITIOUS IDEAS OF 
 
 I 
 
 
 kl 
 
 and, though missionaries of the Cross have dwelt 
 among them for ahout a century, yet the majority 
 of this people are at the present time in heathen 
 darkness. The men are chiefly employed in hunt- 
 ing and fishing, and the domestic labour is all per- 
 formed by the women. Their clothes are made in 
 the rudest manner imaginable, and generally of the 
 coarser skins which they secure in hunting. They 
 believe in a Supreme Being, who has a dwelling- 
 place in the earth, the air, and the ocean, and who 
 is both good and evil ; and they also believe in the 
 immortality of the soul, whi'^h they describe as 
 similar to air, which they cannot feel. Their princi- 
 pal men are magicians and conjurors, distinguished, 
 as I infer with good reason, for their profligacy. 
 Whenever a man is sick, they attribute the cause to 
 the alleged fact that his soul has departed from his 
 body, and he is looked upon with contempt and 
 pity. The first man who came into the world 
 sprang from the bosom of a beautiful valley; in 
 this valley he spent his infancy and childhood, 
 feeding upon berries; and having on a certain 
 occasion picked up a flower which drooped over 
 one of his accustomed paths, it immediately became 
 changed into a girl with flowing hair, who became 
 his playmate, and afterwards his wife, and was the 
 mother of all living. They believe in a heaven and 
 
THE ESQUIMAUX. 
 
 215 
 
 a hell, and consider that the road to the former is 
 rugged and rocky, and that to the latter level and 
 covered with grass. Their ideas of astronomy are 
 peculiar, for they consider the sun, moon, and stars 
 as so many of their ancestors, who have, for a great 
 variety of reasons, been lifted to the sky and become 
 celestial bodies. In accounting for the two former, 
 they relate that there was once a superb festival 
 given by the Esquimaux in a glorious snow-palace 
 of the north, where were assembled all the young 
 men and maidens of the land. Among them was 
 a remarkably brave youth, who was in love with an 
 exceedingly beautiful girl. She, however, did not 
 reciprocate this attachment, and endeavoured by all 
 the means in her power to escape from his caresses. 
 To accomplish this end, she called upon the Great 
 Spirit to give her a pair of wings; and, having 
 received them, she flew into the air and became the 
 moon. The youth also endeavoured to obtain a 
 pair of wings, and, after many months, finally 
 succeeded ; and, on ascending to the sky, he became 
 the sun. The moon, they say, has a dwelling- 
 place in the west, and the sun another in the far 
 east. They account for thunder and lightning by 
 giving the story of two women who lived together 
 in a wigwam, and on one occasion had a most 
 furious battle. During the affray the cabin tumbled 
 
 
 III 
 
 'ii 
 
 111 
 ■i.i 1 
 
216 
 
 FUNERAL CEREMONIES. 
 
 ! :. 
 
 Pi 
 
 mm 
 
 in upon them, causing a tremendous noise, while 
 the women were so angry that their eyes flashed 
 fire. Rain, they say, comes from a river in the sky, 
 which, from the great number of people who some- 
 times bathe in it, overflows its banks, and thus 
 comes to the earth in showers. 
 ■ When one of their friends has departed this life, 
 they take all his property and scatter it upon the 
 ground, outside of his cabin, to be purified by the 
 air; but then in the evening they collect it 
 together, and bury it by the side of his grave. 
 They think it wrong for the men to mourn for 
 their friends, and consider themselves defiled if they 
 happen to touch the body of the deceased ; and the 
 individual who usually performs the ofiice of under- 
 taker is considered unclean for many days after 
 fulfilling his duty. The women do all the wailing 
 and weeping; and during their mourning season, 
 which corresponds with the fame of the deceased, 
 they abstain from food, wear their hair in great 
 disorder, and refrain from every ablution. When 
 a friendless man dies, his body is left upon the hills 
 to decay, as if he had been a beast. When their 
 children die, they bury the body of a dead dog in the 
 same grave, that the child may have a guide in his 
 pathway to an unknown land, to which they sup- 
 pose all children go. 
 
ESQUIMAUX CUSTOMS. 
 
 217 
 
 Polygamy, as sucli, among the Esquimaux is 
 practised only to a limited extent; but married 
 men and women are not over-scrupulous in their 
 love affairs. Unmarried women, however, observe 
 the rules of modesty with peculiar care ; and the 
 maiden who suffers herself to be betrayed is looked 
 upon with infamy. When a young man wishes to 
 marry, he first settles the matter with his intended, 
 and then, having asked and obtained her father's 
 permission, he sends two old women to bring the 
 lady to his lodge, and they are considered one. 
 The Esquimaux mother is fond of her children, and 
 never chastises them for any offence. Children are 
 taught to be dutiful to their parents, and until 
 they marry they always continue under the paternal 
 roof. ! I * ' 
 
 The amusements of the Esquimaux do not differ 
 materially from those of the Indian tribes generally. 
 They are fond of dancing, playing ball, and a 
 species of dice game ; while the women know of no 
 recreation but that of dancing and singing. 
 
 And thus ends my mite of information respect- 
 ing one of the most extensive aboriginal nations of 
 the far north. 
 
 Ill 
 
 i 
 
218 
 
 THE HABITANS OF CANADA. 
 
 '%: 
 
 CHAPT^B XVII. 
 
 m 
 
 The Habitans of Canada. 
 
 River du Loup. July. 
 
 Since my last chapter, written on the banks of the 
 Saguenay, I have completed my pilgrimage through 
 Lower Canada, but before leaving the province, 
 I will give you the result of my observations 
 respecting some of its people. These are divided 
 into three classes — ^the descendants of the French 
 colonists, (commonly called " Habitans,^') the Bri- 
 tish settlers, and the Indian tribes. 
 
 The Habitans, of whom I am now to speak, 
 are the most numerous, and so peculiar in their 
 appearance and manners as to attract the particular 
 attention of travellers. The men are usually tall 
 and slender, of sinewy build, and with a dark brown 
 complexion; the girls are black-eyed, and disposed 
 
 4 
 
THEIR DRESS AND OCCUPATION. 
 
 219 
 
 to be beautiful; while the women are always 
 dumpy, but good-looking. Their dress is similar 
 to that of the French peasantry; the men wear 
 the old-fashioned capote on their heads, every 
 variety of fantastic caps and hats, and on their feet 
 a moccassin made of cow-hide; the women wear 
 jackets or mantelets, which are made of bright 
 colours, and on their heads either a cap or a 
 straw hat, made in the gipsey fashion. Occa- 
 sionally they make an effort to imitate the English 
 in their dress, and at such times invariably appear 
 ridiculous. 
 
 As a class, they are devoted principally to agri- 
 culture; but as their opportunities for obtaining 
 instruction are exceedingly limited, their knowledge 
 of the art of husbandry is precisely what it was 
 one hundred years ago. They seem to be entirely 
 destitute of enterprise, and tread in the beaten 
 steps of their fathers. They who live in the 
 vicinity of Montreal and Quebec, generally supply 
 those markets with vegetables; but those who 
 reside in the more obscure parts, seem to be quite 
 satisfied if they can only manage to raise enough 
 off of their farms for the purpose of carrying them 
 through the year. They are partial to rye bread, 
 and never consider it in a cooking condition until it 
 has been soured by age ; and their standard dish, 
 
 L 2 
 
 1 
 i 
 
 i' \ 
 
 II 
 
 I 
 
 'SJ 
 
 ^1 
 
220 
 
 PICTURESQUE DWELLINGS. 
 
 'J lit' 
 
 which they make use of on all occasions, is a 
 plain pea-soup. The consequence is, that the pea 
 is extensively cultivated. - ► 
 
 You seldom find a farmer who is so poor as 
 not to be able to sell from five to fifty bushels 
 of wheat, and this article he appropriates to the 
 same uses that most people do their money. Their 
 plough is distinguished for its rudeness, and their 
 farming implements generally would not be cre- 
 ditable even to a barbarous people. If an indi- 
 vidual happens to have a stony field, the idea 
 does not enter his head that he might build a 
 fence with those very stones, and the consequence 
 is, that he piles them in one immense heap in 
 the centre of the field, and draws his rails a 
 distance of perhaps two miles. But with all their 
 ignorance of agriculture, the Habitans are suffi- 
 ciently careful to make their little farms yield 
 them all the necessaries they require, particularly 
 their clothing and shoes, their candles, soap, and 
 sugar. • , ' j» 
 
 There are but few professional mechanics among 
 them, and the dwelling of the peasant is almost 
 invariably the production of his own individual 
 labour. Their houses are distinguished for pictorial 
 beauty, always one story high, and generally neatly 
 whitewashed. Their cattle are small, and, owing 
 
 m 
 
IS a 
 pea 
 
 CANADIAN EQUIPAGE. 
 
 221 
 
 to their neglect in feeding and protiecting them, 
 are exceedingly poor. Their horses are nothing 
 but ponies, but distinguished for their toughness. 
 The Habitans are partial to the luxury of riding, 
 and their common vehicle is a rough two-wheeled 
 cart, and occasionally a calash. 
 
 The turn-out which I employed for travelling 
 in the settled parts of Canada was a fair spe- 
 cimen of the class : the cost of the horse (four 
 feet and a half high) was twenty dollars, and 
 the cart (made entirely of wood) was four dollars. 
 My coachman was a Habitan, and, in driving 
 over a hilly road on a certain day, I had a fine 
 opportunity of studying the conflicting traits of 
 character which distinguish the race. 
 
 Whenever he wanted his horse to go fast, he 
 pulled the reins with all his might, and continued 
 to utter a succession of horrible yells. He in- 
 variably ran his animal up the hills, and deliberately 
 walked him down. When angry at his unoffending 
 beast, he showered upon his head a variety of 
 oaths, which might be translated as follows : " in- 
 fernal hog!" "black toad!'' and "hellish dog!" 
 and yet, when the animal was about to di'op to 
 the ground from fatigue and heat, he would caress 
 him, and do every thing in his power to restore 
 the animal and ease his own conscience. 
 
 
 pf 
 
 m 
 
 Hvt. 
 
 m 
 
222 
 
 TRAIT OF MATRIMONIAL APPECTION. 
 
 ' '■■;»: 
 
 w« 
 
 I first employed this man to bring me to this 
 place, and said nothing about continuing my 
 journey. On ascertaining, however, that I was 
 bound further down the St. Lawrence, he volun- 
 teered his services, and I employed him, although 
 he had informed his wife that he would positively 
 return on the night of the day he left her. I 
 retained him in my employ for two days, and was 
 particularly struck with the anxiety he manifested 
 concerning the disappointment of his wife. He 
 alluded to the impropriety of his conduct at least a 
 dozen times, and usually added : '' But you give me 
 plenty of money, (it was only six dollars for taking nie 
 forty miles,) and I will buy something pretty for my 
 wife, which will make her very glad — I guess she 
 won't be sorry.'' I asked him what it was that 
 he intended to purchase, and his answer was, " some 
 riband, a pair of scissors, with some needles, and a 
 calico dress." Who can deny that it is not pleasant 
 to study the sunshine of the human heart, "by 
 which we live ?" 
 
 The Habitans profess the Roman Catholic re- 
 ligion with much zeal. Among them I believe 
 may be found many worthy Christians; but they 
 manifest their religious devotion in many peculiar 
 ways. They are fond of social intercourse, and 
 spend a great portion of their time in visiting 
 
 

 GENERAL DEPORTMENT. 
 
 223 
 
 each other. They reluctantly establish themselves 
 beyond the sound of a chapel bell, and I positively 
 believe that they spend more than half of their 
 time in performing mass and in horse-racing. 
 
 The Sabbath is their great holiday, and always 
 decidedly the noisiest day of the week. Their 
 general deportment, however, is inoffensive, and 
 often highly praiseworthy. They are seldom guilty 
 of committing atrocious crimes, and do not often 
 engage in personal conflicts, which are so prevalent 
 in the United States. They treat all men with 
 kindness, and in their language and manners are 
 remarkal)ly polite. The little girl, playing with 
 her doll in her father's door, would think her 
 conduct hii^hly improper should she omit to drop 
 you a courtesy as you passed along; and even 
 the rude boy, when playing ball or driving his 
 team, invariably takes off his hat to salute the 
 traveller. 
 
 The Habitans are particularly fond of the river 
 St. Lawrence, and their settlements extend from 
 Montreal about two hundred miles with the river 
 on the north shore, and perhaps three hundred 
 and fifty miles on the southern shore. Their 
 principal roads run parallel with the river, are about 
 half a mile apart, and generally completely lined 
 with rural dwellings. 
 
 : 
 
 P 
 
 hi 
 
 Hi 
 pf 
 
 ..■hi 
 
 i| 
 
 i '-A 
 
^ 
 
 i' : 
 
 224 
 
 POLITICAL OPINIONS. 
 
 
 
 ?•':!! 
 
 
 The political opinions of the Habitans are ex- 
 tremely liberal, and not much in accordance with 
 the spirit of Canadian institutions. They hate 
 England by nature and the advice of their priest- 
 hoodj and scruple not to declare themselves actually 
 in love with what they call the American Govern- 
 ment. They complain that Englishmen treat them 
 as if they were slaves, while the people of the 
 United States always hail them as brothers. They 
 are an unlettered race, but believe that their 
 condition would be much happier were they the 
 subjects of a President instead of a Queen, That 
 is a matter 1 consider questionable. 
 
VILLilOE OF DU LOUP. 
 
 225 
 
 p ex- 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 The Grand Portage into New Brunswick— Lake Timiscoutai— Tlic 
 Madawaska River. 
 
 On the Madawaska. July. 
 
 The traveller, who would go from Quebec to 
 Halifax by the recently established Government 
 route, will have to take a steamer for one hundred 
 and twenty miles down the great river, and cross the 
 Grand Portage road which commences at River Du 
 Loup, and extends to Lake Timiscouta, a distance of 
 thirty-six miles. 
 
 With the village of Du Loup I was well pleased. 
 It contains about twelve hundred inhabitants, and 
 a more general mixture of English, Scotch, and 
 French than is usually found in the smaller towns of 
 Canada. The place contains an Episcopal Church, 
 which must be looked upon as a curiosity in this 
 Roman Catholic country, for it is the only one, I 
 believe, found eastward of Quebec. The situation 
 
 L 3 
 
 1 
 
 1M 
 
 i 
 
I'i Si 
 
 '1' 
 
 m 
 
 226 
 
 DU LOUP. 
 
 of the village is romantic to an uncommon degree. 
 It commands an extensive prospect of the St. 
 Lawrence, which is here upwards of twenty miles 
 wide, and bounded on the opposite shore by a 
 multitude of ragged mountains. The river is studded 
 with islands, and ships are constantly passing hither 
 and thither over the broad expanse, and when, 
 from their great distance, all these objects are 
 constantly enveloped in a gauze-like atmosphere, 
 there is a magic influence in the scenery. The 
 principal attraction is a waterfall, about a mile in 
 the rear of the village. At this point, the waters 
 of the rapid and beautiful Du Loup dance joyously 
 over a rocky bed, until they reach a picturesque 
 precipice of perhaps eighty or a hundred feet, over 
 which they dash in a sheet of foam, and, after 
 forming an extensive and shadowy pool, glide 
 onward through a pleasant meadow, until they 
 mingle with the waters of the St Lawrence. 
 
 But as I intend to take you over the Grand 
 Portage, it is time that we should be off. The first 
 ten miles of this road are dotted with the box- 
 looking houses of the Canadian peasantry ; but the 
 rest of the route leads you up mountains and down 
 valleys, which are all as wild and desolate as when 
 first created. The principal trees of the forest are 
 pine, spruce and hemlock, and the foundation of 
 
THE GRAND PORTAGE. 
 
 227 
 
 the country seems to be granite. This region is 
 watered by many sparkling streams, which contain 
 trout in great abundance. The only curiosity on 
 the road is of a geological character, and struck me 
 as something remarkable. Crossing the road, and 
 running in a northerly direction, and extending 
 to the width of about two miles, is a singular bed 
 of granite boulders. The rocks are of every size 
 and form, and while from a portion of them rises a 
 scanty vegetation, other portions are destitute of 
 even the common moss. In looking upon this 
 region, the idea struck me that I was passing 
 through the bed of what was once a mighty river, 
 but whose fountains had become for ever dry. This 
 is only one, however, of the unnumbered wonders of 
 the world, which are constantly appearing to puzzle 
 the philosophy of man. 
 
 In passing over the Grand Portage, the traveller 
 has to resort to a conveyance which presents a 
 striking contrast with the usual national works of 
 her Ladyship, the Queen. It is the same establish- 
 ment which conveys the Royal Mail from Quebec 
 to Halifax, and consists of a common Canadian 
 cart, a miserable Canadian pony, and a yet more 
 miserable Canadian driver. Such is "the way 
 they order things in Canada,'^ which, I fancy, is 
 not exactly the way they do in France. The Grand 
 
 •t,« 
 
 '$' 
 
li 
 
 228 
 
 LAKE TIMISCOUTA. 
 
 Portage Road itself is all that one could desire^ 
 and as there is a good deal of summer and winter 
 travelling upon it, it is surprising that the Govern- 
 ment cannot afford a more comfortable convey- 
 ance. . r 
 
 The eastern termination of the Grand Portage 
 road, is at Lake Timiscouta, where is situated a 
 pleasant hamlet of Canadians, and a picketed fort, 
 which is no 7 abandoned. The views from this spot 
 are unique and exceedingly beautiful, particularly a 
 western view of the lake, when glowing beneath the 
 rays of the setting sun. The Indian word, Timis- 
 couta, signifies the winding water, and accurately 
 describes the lake^ which has a serpentine course, 
 twenty-four miles long, and from two to three wide. 
 Excepting the cluster of houses already mentioned, 
 there is not a single cabin on the whole lake ; and 
 the surrounding mountains, which are, perhaps, a 
 thousand feet high, are the home of soUtude and 
 silence. The only vessels which navigate this lake 
 are Indian canoes, paddled by Canadians. Not 
 only does the isolated settler depend upon them for 
 the transportation of his provisions, but even the 
 English nobleman, when travelling in this region, 
 finds it necessary to sit like a tailor in their straw- 
 covered bottoms. 
 
 The only outlet to Lake Timiscouta, is the Mada- 
 
 
ire. 
 
 THE RIVER MADAWASKA. 
 
 229 
 
 waska River, which ia but a contraction of the same 
 water, but reduced to the width of a stone's throw, 
 and leading to the St. John's, a distance of some 
 forty miles. The meaning of Madawaska, as I am 
 informed, is, never frozen ; and the river obtained 
 this name from the fact that certain portions, on 
 account of the current, are never ice-bound. The 
 scenery of the river is precisely similar to that of 
 its parent lake, only that it is occasionally a little 
 cultivated. The waters of both are clear, but not 
 very deep or cold. They abound with fish, of 
 which the common trout, the perch, and pickerel, 
 (not pike), are the more valuable varieties. 
 
 The manner in which I sailed through Timis- 
 couta and Madawaska, was exceedingly pleasant, if 
 not peculiar and ridiculous. My canoe was manned 
 by a couple of barbarous Canadians ; and while they 
 occupied the extreme stem and bow, I was allowed 
 the " largest liberty" in the body thereof. It was 
 an exceedingly hot day when I passed through; 
 and having stripped myself of nearly all my 
 clothing, I rolled about at my own sweet will, not 
 only for the purpose of keeping cool, but that I 
 might do a good business in the way of killing time. 
 At one moment I was dipping my feet and hands in 
 the water, " humming a lightsome tune of yore," 
 
230 
 
 AX INCIDENT 
 
 and anon sketching the portrait of a mountain or a 
 group of trees. Now I lay flat upon my hack ; and 
 while I watched the fantastic movements of the 
 clouds^ as they crossed the hlue of heaven^ I 
 attended to the comforts of the inner man^ by 
 sucking maple sugar. Now I called upon the boat- 
 men to sing me a song : and while they complied 
 with my request^ I fixed myself in the poetical 
 attitude of a Turk^ and smoked a cigar. At one 
 time we halted at a mountain spring, to obtain a 
 refreshing drink; and at another, the men pulled 
 up to some rocky point, that I might have the 
 pleasure of throwing the fly. Thus " pleasantly the 
 days of Thalaba went by." 
 
 My voyage down the Madawaska was not without 
 a characteristic incident. There was a fleet of 
 canoes descending at the same time ; some of them 
 laden with women and babies, and some with furs, 
 tin kettles, and the knapsacks of home-bound lum- 
 bermen. Two of the canoes were managed by a 
 Canadian and a Scotchman, who seemed to cherish a 
 deep-rooted passion for racing. They paddled a 
 number of heats; and as they were alternately 
 beaten, they both finally became angry, and began 
 to bet extravagantly. The conclusion of the whole 
 matter was, that they went ashore on a bushy 
 
ON THE MADAWASKA. 
 
 231 
 
 points among the mountains^ and settled their diffi- 
 culty by a " private fight/' They fought like brave 
 men, " long and well ;'' and by the time one bad a 
 tooth knocked out of his head, and the other had 
 nearly lost an eye, they separated, and quietly 
 resumed their way. These were the only wild 
 animals that I saw in the Madawaska \vildemess. 
 
 w 
 
 « 
 
 . .'.u < '• ' 
 
 I I. 
 
232 
 
 THE ACADI4NS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 The Acadians. 
 
 Mouth of the Madawaska. July. 
 
 At the junction of the rivers Madawaska and 
 St. John, and extending for some miles down the 
 latter, is a settlement of ahout three hundred 
 Acadians. How these people came by the name 
 they bear, I do not exactly understand ; but of their 
 history I remember the following particulars. In 
 the year 1755, during the existence of the Colonial 
 difficulties between England and France, there 
 existed, in a remote section of Nova Scotia, about 
 fifteen thousand Acadians. Aristocratic French 
 blood flowed in their veins, and they were a peaceful 
 and industrious race of husbandmen. Even after 
 the Government of England had become established 
 in Canada, they cherished a secret attachment for 
 
THE ACADIANS. 
 
 233 
 
 the laws of their native country. But this was 
 only a feeling ; and they continued in the peaceful 
 cultivation of their lands. In process of time, how- 
 ever, three titled Englishmen, named Lawrence, 
 Boscawen, and Mostyn, held a council, and formed 
 the hard-hearted determination of driving this people 
 from their homes, and scattering them to the four 
 quarters of the globe. Playing the part of friends, 
 this brotherhood of conquerors and heroes sent word 
 to the Acadians, that they must all meet at a certain 
 place on business which deeply concerned their 
 welfare. ... . , . . , < 
 
 Not dreaming of their impending fate, the poor 
 Acadians met at the appointed place, and were there 
 informed of the fact, that their houses and lands 
 were forfeited, and that they must leave the country, 
 to become wanderers in strange and distant lands. 
 They sued for mercy, but the ii'on yoke of a Chris- 
 tian nation was laid more heavily upon their necks, 
 in answer to that prayer, and they were driven from 
 home and country ; and as they sailed from shore, 
 or entered the wilderness, they saw in the distance, 
 ascending to heaven, the smoke of all that they had 
 loved and lost. Those who survived, found an 
 asylum in the United States, and in the more 
 remote portions of the British Empire ; and when, 
 after the war, they were invited to return to their 
 
KJi. 
 
 234 
 
 THE ACADIANS. 
 
 early home^ only thirteen hundred were known to 
 be in existence. It is a remnant of this very people 
 who, with their descendants, are now the owners of 
 the Madawaska settlement ; and it is in an Acadian 
 dwelling that I am now penning this paper. 
 
 But, owing to their many misfortunes (I would 
 speak in charity), the Acadians have degenerated 
 into a more ignorant and miserable people than are 
 the Canadian French, whom they closely resemble 
 in their appearance and customs. They believe the 
 people of Canada to be a nation of knaves, and the 
 people of Canada know them to be a half savage 
 community. Worshipping a miserable priesthood 
 is their principal business ; drinking and cheating 
 their neighbours, their principal amusement. They 
 live by tilling the soil ; and are content, if they can 
 barely make the provision of one year take them to 
 the entrance of another. They are, at the same 
 time, passionate lovers of money, and have brought 
 the science of fleecing strangers to perfection. 
 Some of them, by a life of meanness, have suc- 
 ceeded in accumulating a respectable property ; but 
 all the money they obtain is systematically hoarded. 
 It is reported of the principal man of this place, 
 that he has in his house, at the present moment, 
 the sum of 10,000 dollars, in silver and gold ; and 
 yet this man's children are as ignorant of the alpha- 
 
to 
 
 iple 
 
 Is of 
 
 ian 
 
 THE BLOCK-HOUSE. 
 
 235 
 
 bet as the cattle upon the hills. But, with all their 
 ignorance, the Acadians are a happy people ; but it 
 is the happiness of a mere animal nature. 
 
 The scenery of this place, which does not seem 
 to possess a name, is most agreeable, but its 
 attractive features are of an architectural natui'e. 
 The first is a block-house, and the second a 
 Catholic church. 
 
 The block-house occupies the summit of a com- 
 manding and rocky knoll, and was built at a cost 
 of nearly five thousand dollars, for the purpose of 
 defending this portion of New Brunswick, during 
 the existence of the late Boundary difficulty. The 
 edifice is built of stone and timber, and may be 
 described as a square box, placed upon another and 
 a larger one, in a triangular fashion; the width 
 / may be thirty feet, and height one hundred and 
 fifty. It is well supplied with port-holes ; entered 
 hj a wooden flight of stairs, and covered with a tin 
 roof. It contains two stories, besides a well-filled 
 magazine. It is abundantly supplied with guns 
 and cannon, and almost every variety of shot, shells, 
 and balls. It was once occupied by three military 
 companies, (about all that it could possibly hold) 
 but the only human being who now has anything 
 to do with it is a worthy man who officiates as 
 keeper. 
 
 Hi 
 
 m 
 
236 
 
 ACADIAN SETTLEMENT 
 
 • The panorama which this fortress overlooks is 
 exceedingly picturesque, embracing both the valley 
 of the Madawaska and that of St. John, which fade 
 away amid a multitude of wild and uncultivated 
 mountains. When first I looked upon this block- 
 house, it struck me as being a most ridiculous 
 affair ; but, on further examination, I became con- 
 vinced that it could not be taken without the shed- 
 ding of much blood. 
 
 Of the church to which I alluded, I have only to 
 remark that it is a very small, and apparently a 
 venerable structure, built of wood, painted yellow, 
 with a red steeple. It is pleasantly situated amid 
 a cluster of rude cabins, on the margin of the St. 
 John, and in the immediate vicinity of a race- 
 course. It was my fate to spend a Sabbath in this 
 Madawaska settlement. As a matter of course, I 
 attended church. The congregation was large, and 
 composed entirely of Acadians, decked out in the 
 most ridiculous gew-gawish dresses imaginable. 
 I noticed nothing extraordinary on the occasion, 
 only that at the threshold of the church was a kind 
 of stand, where a woman was selling sausages and 
 small beer. The services were read in Latin, and 
 a sermon preached in French, which contained 
 nothing but the most common-place advice, and 
 that all of a secular character. At the conclusion 
 
ON THE MADAWA8KA. 
 
 237 
 
 Is 19 
 
 illey 
 [fade 
 fated 
 lock- 
 [lous 
 
 of the service the male portion of the congregation 
 gradually collected together on the neighbouring 
 green, and the afternoon was devoted to horse- 
 racing, the swiftest horse belonging to the loudest 
 talker and heaviest stake-planter, and that man 
 was — a disciple of the Pope, and the identical 
 priest whom I had heard preach in the morning. 
 It will be hard for you to believe this ; but I have 
 written the truth, as well as my last line, about the 
 Acadian Settlement on the Madawaska. 
 
 
 / 
 
238 
 
 A SAIL DOWN 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Sail flown the Madawaska — The Falls of the St. John. 
 
 Falls of the St. John. July. 
 
 In coming to this place from the north, the 
 traveller finds it necessary to descend the river St. 
 John in a canoe. The distance from Madawaska is 
 thirty-six miles, and the day that I passed down 
 was delightful in the extreme. My canoe was only 
 about fifteen feet long, but my voyageur was an expert 
 and faithful man, and we performed the trip without 
 the slightest accident. 
 
 The valley of this portion of the river is moun- 
 tainous, and its immediate banks vary from fifteen 
 to thirty feet in height. The water is very clear 
 and rapid, but of a brownish colour, and quite 
 warm, varying in depth from three to thirty feet, 
 and the width is about a quarter of a mile. That 
 
THE MADAWA8RA. 
 
 239 
 
 portion of the stream (say some seventy miles of its 
 source) which belongs exclusively to the United 
 States, runs through a fertile and beautiful country, 
 abounds in waterfalls and rapids, and is yet a 
 wilderness. That portion which divides the United 
 States from New Brunswick, is somewhat cultivated, 
 but principally by a French population. Owing to 
 the fact that the farms all face the river, and are 
 very narrow, (but extend back to the distance of 
 two and three miles) the houses have all been 
 erected immediately on the river, so that, to the 
 casual observer, the country might appear to be 
 thickly inhabited, which is far from being the case. 
 The principal business done on the river is the 
 driving of logs and timber for the market of St. 
 John ; and, excepting the worthy and hard working 
 lumbermen who toil in the forests, the people are 
 devoted to the tilling of their land, and are precisely 
 similar to the Acadians in their manners and 
 customs, and probably from the same stock. There 
 is a miniature steam-boat on the river, but as the 
 unnumbered canoes of the inhabitants are engaged in 
 a kind of opposition line, the fiery little craft would 
 seem to have a hard time. In navigating the river, 
 the voyageurs paddle down stream, but use a pole in 
 ascending ; and two smart men, gracefully swinging 
 their poles, and sending their little vessel rapidly 
 
240 
 
 PRIMITIVE TAVERN. 
 
 against the current^ taken in connection with the 
 pleasant scenery of the river, present an agreeable 
 and novel sight. 
 
 We started from Madawaska at four o'clock in 
 the morning, and having travelled some twenty 
 miles, we thought we would stop at the first nice- 
 looking tavern on the shore, (for about every other 
 dwelhng is well supplied with liquor, and con- 
 sequently considered a tavern) for the. purpose of 
 obtaining breakfast. Carefully did we haul up our 
 canoe, and having knocked at the cabin-door, were 
 warmly welcomed by a savage-looking man, whose 
 face was completely besmeared with milk, and also 
 by a dirty-looking woman, a couple of dirty legged 
 girls, and a youngs boy. The only furniture in the 
 room was a bed and a small cupboard, while the 
 fire-place was without a particle of fire. In one 
 comer of the room was a kind of bar, where the boy 
 was in attendance, and seemed to be the spokesman 
 of the dwelling. We asked him if we could have 
 some breakfast, and he promptly replied that we 
 could. 
 
 " What can you give us ?" was my next ques- 
 tion. 
 
 "Anything you please,^' replied the boy in broken 
 English. 
 
 " We'll take some ham and eggs, then." 
 
FALLS OF THE ST. JOHN. 
 
 241 
 
 <€ 
 
 ii 
 
 <t 
 
 <{ 
 
 We havn't any, only some eggs." 
 
 " We'll take some bread and milk." 
 
 " We havn't any bread, but plenty of milk.' 
 Havn't you any kind of meat ?" 
 No, plenty of rum ! What'U you have V* 
 
 I could stand this no longer, and having expressed 
 my displeasure at the ignorance of the boy, and 
 condemned his father for pretending to keep a 
 tavern, I gave the former a sixpence, and took 
 half-a-dozen eggs, with which we returned to our 
 canoe. 
 
 While I was fixing my seat in the boat, and 
 commenting upon wilderness hospitahty, my com- 
 panion amused himself by swallowing four of the 
 purchased eggs in a leather cup of brandy. In 
 twa hours after this little adventure, our little 
 canoa was moored above the Falls of the St. 
 John, and we were enjoying a first rate break- 
 fast, prepared by the lady of a Mr. Russell, who 
 keeps a comfortable house of entertainment in this 
 place. 
 
 After I had finished my cigar and enjoyed a rest- 
 ing spell, I pocketed my sketch-book, and spent the 
 entire day examining the scenery of the falls. After 
 making a broad and beautiful sweep, the river St. 
 John here forms a sudden turn, and becoming con- 
 tracted to the wdth of about fifty yards, the waters 
 
242 
 
 FALLS OF THE ST. JOHN. 
 
 make a plunge of perhaps forty feet, which is mostly 
 in a solid mass, though rather disposed to form the 
 third of a circle from shore to shore. Below this pitch, 
 and extending for about two miles, is a continued 
 succession of falls, which make the entire descent 
 upwards of eighty feet. The water rushes through 
 what might be termed a winding chasm, whose walls 
 are perhaps one hundred and fifty or two hundred 
 feet high, and perpendicular. 
 
 FALLS OF ST. JOHN. 
 
 Generally speaking, the entire distance from the 
 first fall to the last, presents a perfect sheet of 
 foam, though around every jutting point is a black 
 and apparently bottomless pool, which, when I 
 peered into them, were alive with salmon. 
 
FALLS or THE ST. JOHN. 
 
 243 
 
 leaping into tlie air or swimming on tlie margin 
 of the foam. On the western side of the Falls, 
 to a great extent, the original forest has been 
 suffered to remain, and a walk through their 
 shadowy recesses is an uncommon treat ; and on this 
 side also is the ruin of an old saw-mill, which, for 
 a wonder, actually adds to the picturesque beauty of 
 the spot. On the eastern side of the Falls is a com- 
 manding hill, which has been stripped of its forest, 
 and now presents a stump-field of three hundred 
 acres. It is a desolate spot, but in strict keeping 
 with the enterprise of the province. The e < peiise of 
 clearing, or rather half clearing the hill in question, 
 was six thousand dollars, and it was the original 
 intention of the mother-government to erect thereon 
 an extensive fortress ; but owing to the birth of a 
 sensible reflection, the idea was abandoned. The 
 barracks of the place as they now exist, consist of 
 two log-houses, which are occupied by a dozen 
 sprigs of the British army. And thus enqleth my 
 account of the most picturesque spot in New 
 Brunswick, which, I doubt not, may hereafter 
 become a fashionable place of summer resort. 
 
 M 3 
 
244 
 
 AROOSTOOK. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 The Hennit of Aroostook. 
 
 Mouth of the Aroostook. July. 
 I WAS on my way down the river St. John^ in 
 New Brunswick, and having heard that the Aroos- 
 took, (oiie of its principal tributaries,) was famous 
 for its salmon and a picturesque waterfall, I had 
 taken up my quarters at a tavern near the mouth of 
 that stream, with a view of throwing the fly for a 
 few days, and adding to my stock of sketches. I 
 aiTived at this place in the forenoon, and after 
 depositing my luggage in an upper room, and 
 ordering a dinner, I proceeded to arrange my tackle 
 and pencils for an afternoon expedition. This pre- 
 paratory business I performed in the sitting-room of 
 the tavern, where there happened to be seated at 
 the time, and reading the New York Albion, an 
 oddly-dressed but gentlemanly-looking man. In 
 
THE HERMIT OF AROOSTOOK. 
 
 245 
 
 form, he was tall and slender, appeared to be about 
 fifty years of age, and there was such an air of 
 refinement in his appearance and manners that he 
 attracted my particular attention. I said nothing, 
 however, and quietly continued my snelling opera- 
 tions, until summoned to dinner. While at the 
 table, I sent for the landlord, to inquire about the 
 stranger whom I had noticed, and his reply was as 
 follows : — " His name is Robert Egger ; he is a 
 strange but good man, and lives the life of a re- 
 cluse ; his house is above the Fall, on the Aroostook, 
 and about four miles from here. He has been in 
 this part of the country for many years, but I 
 seldom see him at my house> excepting when he 
 wants to read the news, put a letter in the office, or 
 purchase a bag of flour .'^ 
 
 With this inteUigence I was quite delighted, for I 
 fancied that I had discovered a charadevy which 
 eventually proved to be the case. On returning to 
 the room where the stranger was seated, I intro- 
 duced myself by offering him a cigar; and while 
 fixing my rod, asked him a few questions about the 
 surrounding country. His replies proved him to be 
 an intelligent man, and as he happened to express 
 himself a lover of the " gentle art,'' I offered him 
 the use of some fishing tackle, and invited him to 
 accompany me. He refused my offer, but accepted 
 
246 
 
 ANNOYING ACCIDENT. 
 
 my invitation j and we started for the Aroostook. 
 He officiated as my guide ; and when we approached 
 the river, which was from two to five feet deep, 
 about one hundred yards wide, very rapid, and filled 
 with bridge piers in ruin, we jumped into a French- 
 man's canoe, and were landed on the northern 
 shore. Here we came into a road which passed 
 directly along the bank of the river; this we 
 followed for one mile, until we arrived at a flouring* 
 mill, situated at the mouth of a large and very 
 beautiful brook, where the road made a sudden turn 
 towards the north. 
 
 Directly opposite the mill, on the Aroostook side, 
 was a narrow and rapid rift, where, my friend told 
 me, I was sure to hook a salmon. I did not like the 
 appearance of the place, but took his advice and 
 waded in. I tried my luck for some thirty minutes, 
 but could not tempt a single fish. This, my friend 
 did not understand ; he said there were salmon 
 there, and thought that the fault was mine. I knew 
 what he wanted, and therefore handed him my rod, 
 that he might try his fortune. He fished for nearly 
 half an hour, and then broke the fly-tip of my rod. 
 As I was cherishing an earnest desire to take at least 
 one salmon, under the Fall, which I thought the 
 only likely place to succeed, and towards which I 
 had set my face, this little accident made me exceed- 
 
A BEAUTIFUL PROSPECT. 
 
 247 
 
 ingly nervous. My friend attempted to console me 
 by remarking, that as it was getting towards 
 evening, we had better return to the tavern, and 
 take a fresh start in the morning. But this propo- 
 sition did not suit me at all, and I promptly said so. 
 " Just as you please," replied my companion, and so 
 we repaired the rod, and continued up the river. 
 Very rapid, with many and deep pools, was this 
 portion of the stream; and our course along the 
 shore, over logs and fallen trees, through tangled 
 underbrush and around rocky points — was attended 
 with every imaginable difficulty, and so continued 
 for at least two miles. On coming in sight of the 
 Fall, however, I was more than amply repaid for all 
 my trouble, by the prospect which there presented 
 itself. It was, perhaps, one hour before sunset, and 
 there was a delightful atmosphere resting upon the 
 landscape. 
 
 Directly before me, in the extreme distance, and 
 immediately under the crimson sun, was a narrow 
 rocky gorge, through which foamed the waters of 
 the Aroostook, over a precipice of some thirty feet ; 
 and just below the Fall, rose a perpendicular rock, 
 to the height of nearly a hundred feet, dividing the 
 stream into two channels. The entire middle 
 distance of the prospect was composed of a broad 
 and almost circular basin of very deep and dark 
 
248 
 
 SALMON SPEARING. 
 
 water, skirted mostly with a rocky shore, while 
 directly across the surface of this pool, winding 
 down the stream, was a line of foam, distinguishing 
 the main channel; while the foreground of this 
 picture consisted of a gravelly heach, two bark wig- 
 wams, several canoes, and some half dozen Indians, 
 who were enjoying their evening meal by the side of 
 an expiring fire. 
 
 We held a brief conversation with the Indians, 
 and found out that they had visited the basin for 
 the purpose of spearing salmon by torchlight ; and 
 while my companion sat down in their midst to rest 
 himself, I jumped into one of the canoes, and 
 paddled to the foot of the fall, to try one of my 
 fancy flies. I fished for about thirty minutes — 
 caught one small salmon — lost two very large ones, 
 and returned to the Indian camp, where I had pre- 
 viously concluded to spend the night, provided my 
 guide did not insist upon returning to the tavern by 
 moonlight. It so happened, however, that my 
 interesting plan was vetoed by my companion, who 
 told me that his dwelling was only a mile off", and 
 that I must go and spend the night with him. I 
 willingly assented to this proposition, and having 
 picked up the salmon, we engaged the Indians to 
 ferry us across the basin, and proceeded on our way. 
 Our path was somewhat narrow, crooked, and intri- 
 
 
»g 
 
 18, 
 
 of 
 
 THE hermit's dwelling. 
 
 249 
 
 I 
 
 cate, and as I listened to the roaring of the water- 
 fall, and thought of the mystery which hung over 
 my companion, I could not but wonder what I was 
 about, to what strange place I was going. 
 
 In due time, however, we emerged from the 
 woods, and came out upon the side of a gentle hill, 
 which sloped to the margin of the Aroostook, and 
 was sufficiently open to command an extensive view 
 of the river. Here my friend told me to tarry a few 
 moments, for he had a canoe hidden among some 
 willows, and wished to hunt it up, that we might 
 recross the river once more. I heard his words, but 
 neglected to assist him, for my whole attention was 
 riveted by the scene upon which I was gazing. The 
 sober livery of twilight had settled upon the world, 
 and the flowing of the river was so peaceful, that I 
 could distinctly hear the hum of unnumbered 
 insects, as they sported in the air. On the opposite 
 shore was a lofty forest-covered hill, and at the foot 
 of it a small clearing, in the centre of which stood a 
 rude log cabin — the dwelhng-place of my friend. 
 On my left, the river presented the appearance of a 
 lake : and apparently in the centre of it were two of 
 the most exquisitely foliaged islands imaginable. 
 The valley seemed completely hemmed in with 
 mountains, and these, together with a glowing sky, 
 were all distinctly mirrored in the sleeping waters. 
 
 M 3 
 
250 
 
 THE hermit's dwelling. 
 
 Charming beyond compare was this evening land- 
 scape^ and the holy time 'Svas quiet as a nun, 
 breathless with adoration/' But now my companion 
 
 ROBERT E6GER S FARM-HOUSE. 
 
 summoned me to a seat in the canoe, and we passed 
 over the stream in safety ; he hauled up his shallop, 
 laid aside his paddle, and, slapping me on the 
 shoulder, led the way to his cabin, repeating, in a 
 loud clear voice, the following words : 
 
 " Alone I live, between four hills, — 
 
 Famed Roostook runs between ; — 
 
 At times, wild animals appear, 
 
 But men are seldom seen." '•'■*■ 
 
 On entering the hut, which was now quite dark, 
 as it only contained one window, my companion 
 
THE HEEMIT^S DWELLING. 
 
 251 
 
 d- 
 
 11. 
 
 Ill 
 
 sed 
 lop, 
 the 
 n a 
 
 irk, 
 lion 
 
 turned abruptly round, and after making a frolic- 
 some remark about my being in his power, he 
 exclaimed—" That poetry I repeated to you just 
 now was a home>spun article, but as you might 
 fancy something a little more civilized, I would say 
 to you, my young friend, in the language of 
 Wordsworth's " Solitary," 
 
 " This is my domain, my cell, 
 My hermitage, my cabin, what you will — 
 I love it better than a snail his house. 
 But now ye shall be feasted with our best." 
 
 Soon as these words had fallen from his lips, my 
 friend proceeded to collect some wood for a fire, and 
 while I was left to kindle the flame, he seized a tin- 
 pail and went after some spring water, which he 
 said was some distance off. In a few moments, I 
 produced a sufficient quantity of light to answer my 
 purpose, and then took occasion to survey the room, 
 into which I had been thus strangely introduced. 
 Everything about me seemed to be oddity itself. 
 First was the huge fire-place, rudely made of rough 
 stones and filled with ashes; then the blackish 
 appearance of the log walls around, and the hemlock 
 rafters above. In one comer stood a kind of 
 wooden box, filled with blankets, which answered 
 the purpose of a bed, — and in front of the only 
 window in the cabin was a pine table, on which 
 
252 
 
 THE hermit's 7ABE. 
 
 stood an inkstand and some writing paper^ and 
 under which sat a large gray cat, watching my 
 movements with a suspicious eye. In one place 
 stood a wooden chest, and a half-barrel of meal, and 
 the only things in the room, to sit upon were a 
 couple of wooden chairs. The crevices in the walls 
 were stopped up with rags and clay, and from 
 various rafters depended bundles of mint, hemlock, 
 and other useful productions of the wood. A rusty 
 old gun, and a home-made fishing rod occupied one 
 corner ; and on every side, resting upon wooden 
 pegs, were numerous shelves, of every size and form, 
 which were appropriated to a variety of uses. On 
 one or two of them were the cooking utensils of my 
 friend ; on another, a lot of smoky books ; and on 
 others, a little of every thing, from a box of salt or 
 paper of tea, down to a spool of thread or a paper of 
 needles. 
 
 In a few moments my friend re-entered the cabin, 
 and immediately began to prepare our evening meal, 
 which consisted of bread, fried pork, and salmon, 
 and a cup of tea. Plain was our food, but it was as 
 nicely cooked as if it had been done by a pretty 
 girl, instead of an old man ; and the comic pompo- 
 sity with which every little matter was attended to, 
 afforded me much amusement. One thing I re- 
 member, which struck me as particularly funny. 
 
HIS OPINION OP PEEL. 
 
 253 
 
 My host was talking about the conduct of Sir 
 Robert Peel and the British Parliament, and, while 
 in the midst of his discourse, opened a trap -door 
 leading to his cellar, and descended therein. I knew 
 not what he was after, and waited his re-appearance 
 with some anxiety, when suddenly he bobbed up his 
 ghost-like head, resumed the thread of his remarks, 
 and held forth in one hand a huge piece of fat pork, 
 and as he became excited about the conduct of the 
 Prime Minister, he occasionally slapped the pork 
 with the remaining hand, and then shook it in the 
 air, as if it had been one of the murderous Irishmen to 
 whom he was occasionally alludmg. He reminded 
 me of the grave-digger in Hamlet. I also remember, 
 that when my friend was kneading his bread, the 
 idea entered his head, from some remark that I had 
 dropped, that I did not comprehend the meaning of 
 a certain passage in Shakspeare, so he immediately 
 wiped one of his hands, leaned over for his ragged 
 copy of the mighty bard, and immediately settled 
 the question to our mutual satisfaction. 
 
 Supper being ended, I pulled out of my pocket a 
 couple of cigars which I had brought with me, and 
 we then seated ourselves comfortably before the fire 
 and entered into a systematic conversation. The 
 greater part of the talking was done by my com- 
 panion, and in the course of the evening, I gathered 
 
254 
 
 THE hermit's STORV. 
 
 the following particulars respecting his own' 
 history. 
 
 He told me he was a native of Hampshire^ 
 England; and had spent his boyhood in the city of 
 liondon, as a counting-house clerk. He claimed a 
 good name for his family^ and added that Mr. 
 Jerdan, editor of the London Literary Gazette, was 
 his brother-in-law, having married his only sister. 
 He avowed himself about sixty years of age, and had 
 been a resident of New Brunswick ever since the 
 year 1809. He first came across the Atlantic as a 
 government agent, for the transaction of business 
 connected with the fur trade ; and when he settled 
 in the province, the whole country was an untrodden 
 wilderness. i^\-ce that time he had followed a 
 variety of employments, had acquired a competence, 
 but lost it through the rascality of friends. He told 
 me he was a widower, and that he had one son, who 
 resided in Fredcrickton, and was rapidly acquiring a 
 reputation for his knowledge of engineering. " It 
 does my heart good to remember this fact," conti- 
 nued my friend, " and I do hope that my son will not 
 disgrace his family, as some people seem to think I 
 have done. The God-forsaken inhabitants of this 
 region have a habit of calling me a crazy old man. 
 God be praised, — I know they overshoot the mark 
 in that particular; if I have lost my reason, I can 
 
THE hermit's story. 
 
 255 
 
 n 
 
 tell the mocking world, that I have endured trouble 
 enough to make even a philosopher, a raving 
 maniac. By patient and unwearied toil, I have won 
 two small fortunes, but both of them were snatched 
 away, and I was left a beggar. The Home Govern- 
 ment took pity on me, and offered to make me a 
 j)fesent of land, adding that I was at liberty to 
 make my own selection. I accepted their offer and 
 selected five hundred acres on the Aroostook, 
 making the Fall we visited this evening the centre 
 of my domain. I duly received a deed for the 
 property, and having concluded that my fellow-men 
 were as tired of me as I was of them, I bolted for 
 the wilderness and have lived here ever since. Yes, 
 sir, for twelve years have I been the only human 
 inmate of this rude cabin ; I ought to except, 
 however, 'a lucid interval' of some nine months, 
 which I spent in England, about four years ago, 
 visiting my friends and the favourite haunts of my 
 childhood. To enjoy even that little luxury, I was 
 compelled to sacrifice a portion of my land." 
 
 " But why do you not sell your entire property ?" 
 I remarked, "and take up your abode among 
 men, where your knowledge might be made avail- 
 able ?" 
 
 " Knowledge, indeed \" replied the hermit philo- 
 s()})hcr ; " all that I possess, you might easily hide 
 
256 
 
 THE HERMIT'S STORT. 
 
 m 
 
 in the bowl of an acorn. I do know enough to 
 cast my eyes heavenward, when crushed by misfor- 
 tune, but the same knowledge was possessed by the 
 worm upon which I accidentally trod this morning. 
 What is man, at his best estate, but a worm ? But 
 this is not answering your question. My only 
 reason for not selling this property is, that I cannot 
 find a purchaser. Most gladly would I jump at 
 the chance, and then I would mingle with my 
 fellow-men, and endeavour to be of them. Tra- 
 vellers, who sometimes pass through this region, 
 tell me that my property is worth 5000 dollars ; 
 I know it to be worth at least that amount, but I 
 should be glad to sell it for 3000 dollars, and that 
 too, on a credit of ten years. The interest would, 
 indeed, be a meagre income, but I have schooled 
 myself in the ways of poverty ; and though it once 
 cost me 2000 dollars to carry me through a single 
 year, I can tell you that my expenses for the last 
 five years have not averaged more than 20 dollars, 
 which I have had to obtain as best I could But 
 you must not misunderstand me. The little clearing 
 which suiTounds my rookerj^ contains six acres, and, 
 as I cultivate them with all diligence, they keep me 
 fi'om actual starvation." 
 
 "But it strikes me, my dear sir, that you ask 
 rather an extravagant price for your uncultivated 
 
 
THE HERMIT^S STORY. 
 
 257 
 
 to 
 
 OP- 
 
 the 
 
 )nly 
 mot 
 at 
 
 
 land?" I asked this question with a view of 
 obtaining some information in reference to the valley 
 of the Aroostook, and was not disappointed. The 
 reply of my friend was as follows : 
 
 " I can convince you that you are mistaken. In 
 the first place, the water privilege which my land 
 covers, is acknowledged to be the most valuable 
 on the Aroostook, and I may add that it is abun- 
 dantly fertile. And then think of the valley, at 
 the very threshold of which I am located. It is 
 one of the most beautiful and luxuriant in this 
 northern wilderness ; and the only thing against it, 
 though I say it, that should not, is the fact that 
 nearly five miles of its outlet belongs to the English 
 Government, while the remainder belongs to the 
 United States. The whole of it ought to be yours, 
 but if it were, I would not live here a year ; I am 
 near enough to you now ; directly on the boundary- 
 line between your country and mine. The Aroos- 
 took, I verily believe, is one of the most important 
 branches of the St. John. Its general course is 
 easterly, but it is exceedingly serpentine, and 
 accormng to some of your best surveyors, drains 
 upwards of a million acres of the best soil in Maine. 
 Above my place, there is hardly a spot that might 
 not be navigated by a small steam-boat ; and I 
 believe the time is not hv distant when your 
 
l' I 
 
 ■ • i 
 
 258 
 
 THE hermit's story. 
 
 enterprising Yankees will have a score of boats 
 employed here in carrying their grain to market. 
 Before that time comes, however, you must dig a 
 canal or build a railroad around my beautiful 
 waterfall, which I am sure could be done for 
 20,000 dollars. An extensive lumbering business 
 is now carried on in the valley, but its future 
 prosperity must depend upon its agi'iculture. Already 
 are its shores dotted with well-cultivated farms, and 
 every year is adding to their number, and the rural 
 beauty of those already in existence. The soil of 
 this valley is rich, and composed principally of what 
 is called alluvial (not intervale) land, together with 
 the quality known as upland. In many portions, 
 however, you will find some of the most charming 
 intervales in the world. The trees of this region 
 are similar to those of your northern states. The 
 staple crop of the Aroostook farmer is wheat ; owing 
 to the shortness of our seasons, corn does not arrive 
 at perfection, and its cultivation is neglected. Rye, 
 barley, and oats, all flourish here, but much more 
 buckwheat is raised than any other grain besides 
 wheat. Grasses flourish here in great perfection, 
 and the farmer of Aroostook will yet send to market 
 immense quantities of cattle. As to the climate, 
 it is not so severe as is generally supposed. Snow 
 falls early, and continues late, which prevents the 
 
 
THE hermit's STOKY. 
 
 269 
 
 ground from freezing very deep. And when 
 summer comes, as you may testify, the weather is 
 sufficiently warm for every necessary purpose. Now, 
 Sir, do you not think I have made out a clear 
 case V* I answered in the affirmative, and thanked 
 him for the information he had given me. Like 
 Oliver Twist, however, I v/as anxious for "more,^' 
 and therefore endeavoured to start him on another 
 subject. In this laudable effort I fully succeeded ; 
 and by merely expressing the opinion that he 
 must lead a very lonely life in this remote wilder* 
 ness. 
 
 " Not at all, not at all," replied my friend. " It 
 is my good fortune to belong to that class of men 
 who depend upon books, the works of nature, and 
 themselves for happiness, and not upon a selfish 
 and heartless world. As to my books, they are 
 not very abundant, nor are they bound in fancy 
 morocco, but the substance of them is of the right 
 sort. Foremost among them is the Bible, which 
 tells even a poor devil like me that he is a man. 
 Perfect in their generation are the truths of this 
 glorious old book ; they have an important bearing 
 upon everything ; and they should be studied and 
 cherished with jealous care. But the earth-born 
 minds, with whom I hold daily communion, 
 are the mighty Shakspeare, the splendid Gibbon, 
 

 
 \m 
 
 260 
 
 THE HERM T^i STORY. 
 
 the good and loving brother poets Thompson and 
 Wordsworth, the gifted but wayward Burns, the 
 elegant and witty Addison, and the ponderous 
 Johnson. These are the minds which always afford 
 me solid satisfaction. As to the immense herd who 
 keep the printing-presses of the present day con- 
 stantly employed, I know nothing about them, and 
 care still less. And now as to the pleasures which 
 are brought to me by the revolving seasons. They 
 are indeed manifold, and it is pleasant to remember 
 that ' Nature never did betray the heart that loved 
 her.^ The hills which surround my cabin, I look 
 upon as familiar friends, not only when crowned 
 with a WTcath of snow, but when rejoicing in their 
 summer bloom ; and a more peaceful and heart- 
 soothing stream can nowhere be found, than the 
 one which flows along by my door, and you know 
 from experience that it abounds in the finest of 
 salmon and trout. The surrounding woods furnish 
 me with game, but their greatest treasures are the 
 ten thousand beautiful birds, which make melody 
 in their little hearts, and afford me imalloyed pleasure 
 for at least one half the year. I seldom have occasion 
 to kill tlicse feathered minstrels for food, and the 
 consequence is, whenever I go out into my fields 
 to work, they gather around me without fear, and 
 often come so near, as to be in my very way. The 
 
THE hermit's story. 
 
 261 
 
 quail and the wren, the jay and the blue-bird, the 
 mocking-bird, the partridge, the fish-hawk, the 
 eagle and the crow, and also the swallow, the owl, and 
 whip-poor-will, all build their nests within a stone's 
 throw of my door, and they know that the friendless 
 old man will do them no harm. And then what 
 exquisite pleasure do I continually enjoy in watching 
 the ever-varying changes of the year ! First, when 
 the primrose tells me that the rains are over and 
 gone, and I go forth in the refreshing sunshine to 
 sow my seeds ; secondly, when the glorious summer 
 is in its prime, with its dewy mornings and lovely 
 twilights j also in the sober autumnal time, when 
 I thoughtfully count the leaves floating on the 
 bosom of the stream ; and then again when the cold 
 winds of winter are howling around my cabin, and 
 I sit in my pleasant solitude before a roaring fire, 
 building palaces in my mind, as I peer into the 
 burning embers. Yes, sir, I have learned to live 
 without excitement, and to depend upon myself for 
 the companionship I need. I do. indeed, occasionally 
 steal out of my beautiful vale, and mingle with my 
 fellow-men ; but i always return perfectly contented 
 with my lot. Afler all, I do not believe that the 
 world could add greatly to my stock of happiness, 
 even if I were a worshipper of Mammon, a brawling 
 politician, or a responsible statesman." 
 
262 
 
 THE HERMIT'S STORY. 
 
 UK 
 
 "But, Mr. Egger, it strikes me that your 
 manner of life is not in keeping with the Siblei 
 for which you have expressed so much rever- 
 
 f} 
 
 ence. 
 
 "That may be true," was the reply, "but I 
 make no sanctimonious pretensions. I do but 
 little to promote the happiness of my fellow-men, 
 and I congratulate myself with the idea that 1 
 do as little to make them miserable. The influence 
 of my example amounts to nothing, and I give 
 no bread to the poor, because I have none to 
 give. But let us drop the subject; I feel that 
 your questions may so annoy me, that I shall 
 be compelled to abandon the glorious old wilder- 
 ness, and become a denizen of the busy and noisy 
 world." 
 
 A breach having thus been made in our discourse, 
 I examined my watch and found it to be near 
 twelve o'clock. My companion took the hint, and 
 immediately proceeded to fix a sleeping-place that 
 would accommodate us both. This was done by 
 spreading the clothes of the wooden bedstead upon 
 the floor. While going through with this little opera- 
 tion, he held high above his head a ragged old 
 bed-quilt, and asked rae what I thought Queen 
 Victoria would say, if she had such an article to 
 rest her royal limbs upon ? He then pointed to 
 
THE hermit's dormitory. 
 
 263 
 
 [your 
 Jible, 
 jver- 
 
 the particular spot which he wanted me to occupy, 
 giving as a reason for the request, that there was 
 a hole on the opposite side of his mansion, where 
 toads, rats, and weasels were frequently in the 
 habit of entering, and he was afraid they might 
 annoy me, though he had never been disturbed 
 by their nocturnal visits. This information appeared 
 to me somewhat peculiar, but did not prevent me 
 from undressing myself to he down. When about 
 half through this business, however, I was actually 
 compelled to take a seat on account of a laughing-fit, 
 brought upon me by one or two stories, which my 
 host related for my special benefit. What a strange 
 man indeed ! thought I ; and making another effort, 
 I tumbled into bed. In the meantime, my com- 
 panion had stripped himself of everything but his 
 shirt, and, in spite of the frailty of his " spindle 
 shanks,'' was throwing himself into the attitudes 
 for which Kemble was distinguished, whose acting 
 he had often witnessed in olden times. I was 
 already quite exhausted with excess of laughter, and 
 I verily believed that the queer antics of the anchorite 
 and philosopher would be the death of me. But I 
 felt that I must go to sleep, and, in self-defence, 
 partly covered my head with the end of a quilt, 
 and almost swore that I would not be disturbed 
 
 agam. 
 
264 
 
 NOCTURNAL DISTURBANCES. 
 
 I' '*, 
 
 !';fi 
 
 I did not swear, however, and was consequently 
 again disturbed. I had just fixed my head upon 
 the pillow, as I thought for the last time, when I 
 was startled by a tremendous yell proceeding from 
 without the cabin. I rushed out of the house, as 
 if the Old Harry himself had been after me, and 
 beheld my spare and venerable friend, sitting upon 
 a stump, gazing upon the rising moon, and listening 
 to the distant howl of a wolf, with one of his feet 
 dangling to and fro, like the pendulum of a clock. 
 " Was'nt that a musical yell, my boy ?" were the 
 first words spoken by the hermit mad-cap ; and then 
 he went on to point out all the finer features of 
 the scene spread out before us. Silently flowed the 
 stream, grand and sublime looked the mountains, 
 clear and very blue the sky, spirit-like the moon and 
 stars, and above the neighbouring waterfall ascended 
 a column of spray, which was fast melting into a 
 snowy cloud. After enjoying this picture for a 
 reasonable time, my companion then proposed that 
 we should enjoy a swim in the river, to which 
 arrangement I arsented, even as did the wedding 
 guest of Coleridge to the command of the Ancient 
 Mariner. Our bath ended, we returned to the 
 cabin, and in the course of half-an-hour, the hermit 
 and the stranger were side by side in the arms of 
 sleep. 
 
 k:<- 
 
 is;.; -<in 
 
 m m 
 
FAHEWELL TO THE HERMIT. 
 
 265 
 
 On opening my eyes in the morning, the pleasant 
 sunshine was flooding the floors through the open 
 door, and my friend, who had risen without dis- 
 turbing me, was frying some trout which he had 
 just taken in the stream. I arose, rolled up the 
 bed, and prepared myself for breakfast, which was 
 particularly relished by the giver and the receiver. 
 I spent the forenoon rambling about the estate of 
 my old friend, and enjoying the surrounding 
 scenery ; I then proposed to iiim that he should 
 go down and be my guest at the tavern on the 
 St. John for a day or two, which invitation was 
 accepted. On my return, I took a sketch of the 
 secluded vale where stands the cottage of my friend, 
 also a profile of his own handsome face, and a view 
 of his waterfall. The time of my departure having 
 arrived, I left him with a heavy heart — I for my 
 distant city-home, and he to return to his soli- 
 taiy cottage among the mountains. . 
 
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 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
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 (716) 872-4503 
 
266 
 
 THE RIVER ST. JOHN. 
 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 The River St. John. 
 
 III 
 
 Woodstock. July. 
 
 I HAVE recently performed a pilgrimage along 
 the valley of the Lower St. John, and as I am about 
 to leave the river, it is meet that I should give my 
 reader a record of my observations. The distance 
 from the Falls of St. John to the city of that name, 
 is two hundred and twenty miles. The width varies 
 from a quarter of a mile to nearly two miles, and 
 the depth from two to forty feet. That portion 
 lying north of Frederickton, abounds in rapids and 
 shallows, and is navigated only by flat-bottomed 
 boats, which are taken up stream by horse power, 
 but descend with the current. Here, for the most 
 part, the shores are mountainous, and only partly 
 cultivated, with high and picturesque banks; the 
 
THE NARROWS. 
 
 267 
 
 m 
 
 m 
 
 lowest portion, however, is of a level character, 
 and presents the appearance of an ancient and 
 highly cultivated country, and is navigated by 
 steam-boats, and the common sail craft of the 
 country. The soil, all along the shores, is good, 
 but seems better adapted for grass than wheat, 
 and I can see no good reason for its not becoming 
 greatly distinguished as a grazing country. 
 
 The river is not distinguished for any pictorial 
 feature, (though it abounds in beautiful landscapes,) 
 excepting a place called the Narrows, situated at the 
 southern extremity. At this point, the stream is 
 not more than five hundred yards wide, and as it is 
 bounded on either side by a high, rocky barrier, 
 the current ordinarily passes through with great 
 rapidity. The tides of the ocean ascend about 
 thirty miles, and it is only when the tide is high 
 that the point in question can be navigated. 
 Though these Narrows are a great annoyance to 
 the navigator, by the lover of the picturesque they 
 are highly esteemed. Not only are they beautiful 
 in themselves, but, owing to the peculiarity of 
 the place, it is frequently the case that the broad 
 expanse of water above it, is covered with a fleet 
 of sloops, schooners, steam-boats, tow-boats, and 
 timber-crafts, which present a peculiar and agree- 
 able panorama. The river abounds with salmon and 
 
 N 2 
 
 
'1 
 
 268 
 
 PRINCIPAL TOWNS 
 
 tl 
 
 I 
 
 
 shad, the former of which, though rather small, may 
 be taken by the angler in the principal tributaries. 
 They are not sufficiently abundant, however, to con- 
 stitute an important article of commerce, and the 
 common modes for taking them are with the spear, 
 and the drift-net. 
 
 The principal towns on the St. John are, Wood- 
 stock, French Village, Frederickton, and St. John. 
 The first of these is one hundred and fifty miles 
 from the mouth, and though a ragged, yet an 
 interesting village. So far as its natural productions 
 are concerned, I am disposed to compliment this 
 Province in the highest terms ; but I must say that 
 the ignorance, idleness, and gouging character of 
 its common people, have made me quite willing to 
 take my departure therefrom. The expenses of 
 travelling are enormous, and so also are all the 
 little incidentals which go to make a man com- 
 fortable. 
 
 The stage-route from the Grand Falls to St. John 
 passes through Woodstock, but the distance from 
 this place to the American town of Houlton, is ten 
 miles, and in this direction there is also an established 
 stage-route to Bangor. 
 
 The next place on the St. John, of any note, 
 is French Village. It usually contains a thousand 
 souls — most of them Indians. They live in frame 
 
 ':t: 
 
ON THE ST. JOHN. 
 
 269 
 
 may 
 
 and log-houses, and though they pretend to do 
 some farming, they are chiefly engaged in hunting 
 and fishing. They are a good-looking race, speak 
 English fluently, and are the followers of a Catholic 
 priest, who lives among them, and officiates in a 
 small chapel, which was built by the Jesuits at an 
 early day. This society is said to be one of the 
 most wealthy in the Province. The chief of the 
 village is one Louis Beir. He lives in a very com- 
 fortable, and well-furnished house, is rather a 
 handsome man, dresses in a half- savage manner, 
 and while he offers his visitor a comfortable chair, 
 he invariably seats himself upon the floor in true 
 Indian fashion. 
 
 Frederickton is at the head of steam-boat naviga- 
 tion, and distant from St. John eighty miles. 
 Between these two places there runs a morning 
 and evening boat, and the summer travel is very 
 extensive. Frederickton contains about eight thou- 
 sand inhabitants, composed principally, of Irish, 
 Scotch, and English. It contains three principal 
 streets, running north and south, and some half- 
 dozen handsome public buildings, including an 
 Episcopal church, after the Tuscan order, a Court 
 House and a College. The town is situated on a 
 level plain, and its suburbs are made exceedingly 
 beautiful by the number of rural residences which 
 
 a 
 I 
 
 III 
 
 ■» 'A 
 
li 
 
 270 
 
 FREDERICKTON — ST. JOHN. 
 
 P.! Ill 
 
 M X 
 
 
 m 
 
 
 
 
 k 
 
 ■IS: 
 
 attract the eye in every direction. The elm and 
 poplar both seem to flourish here, and add much to 
 the picturesqueness of the place and vicinity. The 
 business of Frederickton is only of a second-rate 
 character, and it has become what it is, merely from 
 the fact that it has heretofore been the seat of 
 Government. This fact has also had a tendency to 
 collect a good society in the place, and its " ton,'' 
 though in a small way have been disposed to cut quite 
 a dash. The " mother Parliament," I believe, have 
 recently removed the seat of government to St. John, 
 and the lovers of Frederickton are sorry, and a little 
 angry. ^ >^ . ..:■•.. ••,••. ,,-,,-■, .-.-^ 
 
 The city of St. John stands at the mouth of the 
 river of that name, and is also laved by the waters of 
 the Bay of Fundy. I hate cities, but suppose that I 
 must stop a moment in the one alluded to. It is a 
 business place, planted among rocks, contains some 
 twenty thousand inhabitants, (two-thirds of whom 
 are Irish,) and in its port, at the present time, is 
 moored a fleet of two hundred ships. Its public 
 buildings are numerous, the finest of which are the 
 Court House, an Episcopal church, of the Doric 
 order, another after the Gothic, and a Presbyterian 
 church, after the Corinthian order. The city is 
 defended by a fortress, which presents a handsome 
 appearance as you approach the port. The merchants 
 
CARLTON HILL. 
 
 271 
 
 of the place are chiefly employed in the square-timber 
 trade, and have heretofore done an extensive business. 
 This trade, however, I am inclined to believe, is 
 rapidly running out. On the opposite side of the 
 St. John's river is a picturesque point, or hill, which 
 is called Carlton Hill. It is surmounted by a massive 
 block-house, and commands an extensive prospect of 
 the Bay of Fundy, the spring tides of which rise to 
 the height of sixty feet, and when coming in make a 
 terrible roar. 
 
] 
 
 272 
 
 THE PENOBSCOT. 
 
 • t \ 
 
 m 
 
 1* : I 
 
 I- 
 
 •1 ' 
 P ■ 
 
 
 ij.tii 
 
 r;lf 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 The Penobscot River. 
 
 Off the Coast of Maine. July. 
 
 A week ago I was fighting with mosquitoes 
 and flies, on the head waters of the Penobscot, and 
 now that I am upon the ocean once more, 1 fancy 
 that my feeUngs are allied to those of an old moose 
 that I lately saw standing in a mountain lake, with 
 the water up to his chin. The noble river which I 
 have mentioned, " is all my fancy painted it,'' and 
 in spite of its insect inhabitants, I shall ever remem- 
 ber it with pleasure. 
 
 The length of this stream, from the mouth of its 
 bay, to where its principal branches come together, 
 is about one hundred and forty miles ; from this 
 junction, to the fountain head of the west branch, 
 the distance is supposed to be one hundred and fifty 
 
INHABITANTS ON THE PENOBSCOT. 
 
 273 
 
 miles, while the east branch is probably only one 
 hundred miles in length. Both of these streams 
 rise in the midst of a mountain wilderness, looming 
 above which, is old Katahden, the loftiest mountain 
 in Maine, and elder brother to Mount Washington, 
 in New Hampshire. This mountain is distant from 
 Moosehead Lake only about twenty miles; but it 
 towers into the sky so grandly, that nearly all the 
 people who inhabit the northern part of Maine, look 
 upon it as a familiar friend. The two branches of 
 the Penobscot, run through a mountainous region, 
 both of them abounding in rapids, though the west 
 branch contains a number of picturesque falls. 
 The soil of this region, generally speaking, is good, 
 but remains in its original wilderness. Its stationary 
 inhabitants are few and far between ; but it gives 
 employment to about three thousand lumbermen. 
 They spend the winter in wielding the axe in the 
 forests, and the spring and summer in driving down 
 the stream logs which they have prepared for the 
 saw-mills, which are mostly situated on the lower 
 part of the Penobscc . Nine months in the year 
 they labour without ceasing, but usually appropriate 
 to themselves a three months holiday, which is 
 the entire autumn. They are a young and power- 
 fully built race of men, mostly New Englanders, 
 generally unmarried, and, though rude and intem- 
 
 N 8 
 
I I 
 I 
 
 !^74 INHABITANTS ON THE PENOBSCOT. 
 
 
 
 
 Eli i 
 
 M1 
 
 perate in their manners, are very intelligent. They 
 seem to have a passion for their wild and toilsome 
 life, and, judging from their dresses, I should think 
 possess a fine eye for the comic and fantastic. The 
 entire apparel of an individual usually consists of a 
 pair of grey pantaloons, and two red flannel shirts, 
 a pair of long hoots, and a woollen covering for the 
 head, and all these things are worn at one and the 
 same time. The head-covering alluded to, when 
 first purchased, is what might he called a hat ; hut 
 the wearers invariably take particular pains to trans- 
 form the article hito such queer shapes, as to render 
 it indescribable. Sometimes they take the crown 
 and tie it in the shape of a fooFs-cap, and some- 
 times they trim the rims with a jack-knife, into 
 many different fashions. Their wages vary from 
 twenty to thirty dollars per month ; and they are 
 chiefly employed by the lumber merchants of 
 Bangor, who furnish them with necessary supplies. 
 
 The Penobscot, I suppose, is unquestionably the 
 most fruitful lumber river in the United States, and 
 its pine and hemlock forests seem yet to be inex- 
 haustible. And the State of Maine is indebted to 
 the lumber business for many of its beautiful cities 
 and towns. , . 
 
 From the Forks of the Penobscot to Bangor, the 
 distance is about sixty miles. This portion of the 
 
fiC£KERY OF TfiE PEN0B6C0T. 
 
 275 
 
 river is about a quarter of a mile wide. The banks 
 sre rather low and levels and somewhat cultivated. 
 The water is deep and clear, and the current strong. 
 Generally speaking, the scenery of the river is not 
 remarkable, and were it not for its numerous islands, 
 it might be considered tame, by the lover of a 
 mountain land. The islands alluded to, however, 
 are exceedingly beautiful. Covered as they are with 
 venerable elms, and containing no underbrush, but 
 a continuous plot of green, they have all the appear- 
 ance of cultivated parks. The stage-route, from 
 Woodstock, after reaching the Penobscot, continues 
 along the eastern bank, and as the coaches are com- 
 fortable, and the horses good, the ride is very 
 pleasant. The principal village, of which there are 
 four, is Old Town. It is a busy little place, and 
 the present termination of a railroad from Bangor, 
 which is twelve miles distant. Directly opposite 
 Old Town is a small island, where reside a remnant 
 of the Penobscot Indians. They number some four 
 hundred souls, and are just sufficiently civilized to 
 lead a very miserable sort of life. 
 
 I come now to speak of Bangor. It is a well- 
 built and handsome city, eighty miles from the 
 ocean, and contains about eight thousand inhabi- 
 tants. It is at the head of tide water navigation, 
 and has a good harbour, where I counted from one 
 
 i 
 
H 
 
 i 
 
 270 
 
 INHABITANTS OP BANOOR. ^ 
 
 .>■ i 
 
 K ' 
 
 
 Ml 
 
 n I 
 
 t^, 
 
 i 
 
 point near two hundred sails. The principal article 
 of trade is lumber, which is distinguished for its 
 good qualities. All the heaviest merchants are 
 engaged in the lumber trade, and almost every body 
 deals in it to a limited extent. A few thousand 
 shingles will pay your tailor for a coat, a few loads 
 of plank will settle your account with the butcher, 
 and bundles of clap-boards are gladly received by 
 the grocer, in exchange for his tea and sugar. 
 . With the people of Bangor I was much pleased. 
 Their manners and habits are stamped with the 
 true New England character, they mind their own 
 business, and are distinguished for their intelligence, 
 virtue, and hospitality. When I reached this place, 
 my beard was more than half as long as that of the 
 Wandering Jew ; and it took me nearly a whole day 
 to forget the bad French which I had acquired in 
 Canada and New Brunswick, and transform myself 
 into the semblance of a civilized man. I had been 
 in the woods for so long a time, that I seized the 
 first paper I saw to find out whether I had for- 
 gotten to read. You may readily imagine, therefore, 
 . what a refreshing effect the appearance and con- 
 versation of intelligent people had upon my feelings. 
 But the class of citizens who made the deepest 
 impression upon me, were the children of Bangor. 
 I met them at every corner, and heard their happy 
 
INUABITANTb OF DANUOR. 
 
 277 
 
 voices in every dwelling, and a more perfectly 
 beautiful race of creatures, I never before saw in 
 any city. 
 
 The distance from Bangor to the ocean is eighty 
 miles. For twenty miles the river averages three 
 quai'ters of a mile in width, when it gradually 
 widens into an expansive bay or gulf. The water is 
 deep, always covered with vessels, and abounds with 
 salmon, which are only taken with the net. The 
 shores are hiUy, and well -cultivated, and the towns 
 of Bucksport, Frankfort, Belfast and Thomaston, as 
 you pass them, present each a thriving and pleasant 
 appearance. 
 
278 
 
 MOOSEHEAD LAKE. 
 
 ..■■:.■. ■■'*!:■ 
 
 
 Ill 
 
 m,- 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 Moosehead Lake.— The River Kennebeck. 
 
 Portland. August. 
 
 Moo^EHEAD Lake is the largest and the wildest 
 in New England. It lies in the central portion of 
 the State of Maine, and distant *rom the ocean near 
 one hundred and fifty miles. Its length is fifty 
 mUes, and its width from five to fifteen. It is 
 embosomed among a brotherho d of mountains, 
 whose highest peak has been c ristened with the 
 beautiful name of Katahden. Jl of them, from 
 base to summit, are covered with v. dense forest, in 
 which the pine is by far the most abundant. It is 
 the grand centre of the only wilderness region in 
 New England, whose principal denizens are wild 
 beasts. During the summer months, its tranquil 
 waters remain in unbroken solitude, unless some 
 
WINTER AT MOOSEHEAD. 
 
 279 
 
 scenery-hunting pilgrim^ like myself^ should happen 
 to steal along its shores in his hirchen canoe. But 
 in the winter the case is very different^ for then^ all 
 along its horders^ may he heard the sound of the 
 axe^ wielded hy a thousand men. Then it is that 
 an immense quantity of logs are cut^ to he manufac- 
 tured into lumher at the extensive mills down the 
 Kenneheckj which is the only outlet to the lake. 
 
 A winter at Moosehead must he attended with 
 much that is rare, and wild, and exciting, not only 
 to the wealthy proprietor who has a hundred men 
 to superintend, hut even to the toiling chopper. 
 Look at a single specimen of the gladdening scenes 
 enacted in that forest world. It is an awful night, 
 the winds wailing, the snow falling, and the forests 
 making a moan. Before you is a spacious, hut 
 rudely built log cabin, almost covered with snow. 
 But now, above the shriek of the storm, and the 
 howl of the wolf, you hear a long, loud shout, from 
 a score of human mouths. You enter the cabin, 
 and lo, a merry band of noble men, some lying on a 
 buffalo-robe, and some seated on a log, while the 
 huge fire before them reveals every feature and 
 wrinkle of their countenances, and makes a picture 
 of the richest colouring. Now the call is for a 
 song, and a young man sings a song of Scotland, 
 which is his native land ; a mug of cider then goes 
 
280 
 
 LOG-CUTTING AND RAFTING. 
 
 
 round, after which an old pioneer clears his throat 
 for a hunting legend of the times of old ; now the 
 cunning jest is heard ; and peals of hearty laughter 
 shake the huilding ; and now a soul-stirring speech 
 is deUvered in favour of Henry Clay. The fire-place 
 is again replenished, when with a happy and con-- 
 tented mind each woodman retires to his couch, to 
 sleep, and to dream of his wife and children, or of 
 the buxom damsel whom he loves. 
 
 The number of logs which these men cut in a 
 single winter is almost incredible, and the business 
 of conveying them to the lake upon the snow gives 
 employment to a great many additional men and 
 their oxen. The consequence is, that large quanti- 
 ties of floui*, potatoes, pork, and hay, are consumed ; 
 and as these things are mostly supplied by the 
 farmers of the Kennebeck, winter is the busiest 
 season of the year throughout the region. When 
 the lake is released from its icy fetters in the spring, 
 a new feature of the logging business comes into 
 operation, which is called rafting. A large raft 
 contains about eighteen thousand logs, and covers 
 a space of some ten acres. In towing them to the 
 Kennebeck, a small steamboat is employed, which, 
 when seen from the summit of a hill, looks like a 
 living creature struggling with a mighty incubus. 
 But the most picturesque thing connected with this 
 
ISLANDS OF MOOSEHEAD LAKE. 
 
 281 
 
 poat 
 the 
 iter 
 ech 
 aee 
 on- 
 to 
 of 
 
 business is a floating log-cabin, called a Raft House, 
 which ever attends a raft on its way to the river. 
 During the summer, as before stated, Moosehead 
 Lake is a perfect solitude, for the "log chopper" 
 , has become a " log driver" on the Kennebeck, — ^the 
 little steamer being moored in its sheltering bay, 
 near the tavern at the south end of the lake, and 
 the toiling oxen having been permitted to enjoy 
 their summer sabbath on the farm of their master. 
 
 The islands of Moosehead Lake, of any size, are 
 only four; Moose and Deer Islands at the southern 
 extremity. Sugar Island in the large eastern bay, 
 and Farm Island in a north-western direction from 
 that. All of these are covered with beautiful groves, 
 but the time is not far distant when they will be 
 cultivated farms. Trout are the principal fish that 
 flourish in its waters, and may be caught at any 
 time in great abundance. And thereby hangs a 
 fish story. 
 
 It was the sunset hour, and with one of my com- 
 panions I had gone to a rocky ledge for the purpose 
 of trying my luck. My bait was squirrel meat, and 
 I was the first to throw the line. It had hardly 
 reached the water, before I had the pleasure of 
 striking and securing a two pound trout. This 
 threw my friend into a perfect fever of excitement, 
 so that he was exceedingly slow in cutting up the 
 
 !<',! 
 
 I 
 
282 
 
 ABUNDANCE OF GAME. 
 
 squirrels ; and it may be readily supposed that I was 
 somewhat excited myself; so I "grabbed" the 
 animal out of his hands^ and in less than a " jiffy/' 
 and with my teeth, made a num^ er of good baits. 
 The conclusion of the whole matter was, that in^ 
 less than forty minutes we had caught nearly 
 seventy pounds of salmon trout. But the fish of 
 Moosehead are not to be compared with those of 
 Horicon in point of delicacy, though they are very 
 large, and very abundant. The reason of this is, 
 that its waters are not remarkably clear, and a good 
 deal of its bottom is muddy. Moose River, which 
 is the principal tributary of the Lake, is a narrow, 
 deep, and picturesque stream, where may be caught 
 the common trout, weighing from one to five pounds. 
 In this portion of Maine every variety of forest 
 game may be found, but the principal kinds are the 
 grey wolf, the black bear, the deer, and the moose. 
 Winter is the appropriate season for their capture, 
 when they afford a deal of sport to the hunter, and 
 furnish a variety of food to the forest labourers. 
 Deer are so very plentiful, that a certain resident told 
 me, that, in the deep snow of last winter, he caught 
 some dozen of them alive, and having cut a slit in 
 their ears, let them go, that they might recount to 
 their kindred their marvellous escape. But the 
 homeliest animal, the most abundant, and the best 
 
 
»•.. 
 
 NIGHT ON THE MOOSE-RIVER. 
 
 283 
 
 was 
 the 
 
 
 for eating, is the moose. I did not kill one, but 
 spent a night with an old hunter who did. During 
 the warm summer nights these animals, for the pur- 
 pose of getting clear of the black-fly, are in the habit 
 of taking to the water, where, with nothing but 
 their heads in sight, they remain for hours. It was 
 the evening of one of those cloudless nights, whose 
 memory can never die. We were alone far up the 
 Moose River, and it seemed to me, "we were the 
 first that ever burst into that forest sea." Em- 
 barked on board a swan-like canoe, and with our 
 rifles ready, we carefully and silently descended the 
 stream. How can I describe the lovely pictures 
 that we passed ? Now we peered into a dark recess 
 in the centre of a group of elms, where unnumbered 
 fire-flies were revelling in joy ; — and now a solitary 
 duck shot out into the stream from its hidden home, 
 behind a fallen and decayed tree ; now we watched 
 the stars mirrored in the sleeping waves, and now 
 we listened to the hoot of the owl, the drum of the 
 partridge, the song of a distant waterfall, or the leap 
 of a robber-trout. It was not far from midnight 
 when my companion whispered, " Hush, hush \" 
 and pointed to a dim spot some hundred yards 
 below. The first chance was allotted me, so I took 
 the best aim I could, and fired. I heard the ball 
 skip along the water, and on coming near, found 
 
m 
 
 m 
 
 
 284 
 
 TAVERN AT THE FORKS. 
 
 my mark to be only a smooth rock. Two hours 
 more passed on, one small moose was killed, and at 
 day-break we were in our cabin fast asleep. 
 
 The principal outlet to Moosehead Lake is the 
 Kennebeck, which " now demands my song.'' It 
 is the second river in Maine, and one of the most 
 beautiful I have ever seen. Instead of watering a 
 wilderness, as I had supposed, all along its valley 
 for over a hundred miles are fertile and extensive 
 farms, with here and there a thriving village, inha- 
 bited by an intelligent and industrious people. Its 
 principal tributary is Dead River, and the spot at 
 the junction of the two is called the Forks. The 
 cultivated region stops here, and between this point 
 and Moosehead, the distance is about twenty-five 
 miles, which is yet a forest wilderness. * ,> 
 
 The principal attraction at the Forks is a tavern 
 kept by one Burnham, who is a capital fellow to 
 guide the lover of Nature or the trout fisherman to 
 Moxy Fall and Nameless Lake, which are in the 
 immediate vicinity. The mountains about here are 
 very lofty, and exceedingly picturesque, abounding 
 in the maple, the oak, the pine, and hemlock. 
 Emptying into the Kennebeck, a few miles north of 
 the Forks, is a superb mountain-stream, named 
 Moxy, after an Indian who was drowned there many 
 years ago. Winding for a long distance among 
 
SUPEUB MOUNTAIN STREAM. 
 
 285 
 
 rocky ravines, and eternally singing to the woods a 
 trumpet-song, it finally makes a sudden plunge into 
 a chasm more than a hundred feet in depth. The 
 perpendicular rocks on either side rise to an im- 
 mense height, their tops crowned with a " peculiar 
 diadem of trees/' and their crevices filled up with 
 dark-green verdure, whence occasionally issues, 
 hanging gracefully in the air, beautiful festoons of 
 the ivy, and clusters of the mountain blue-bell. 
 The depth of the pool was never told, and its waters 
 wash against the granite walls in a perpetual gloom. 
 On one occasion I visited it when there was a high 
 freshet, and saw what 1 could hardly have believed 
 from a description. I stood on an elevated poin 
 in front of the Fall, when my eyes rested upon an 
 immense log, some sixty feet long, coming down 
 the foaming stream with all the fury of a maddened 
 steed; presently it reached the precipice, — then 
 cleaved its airy pathway into the hell of waters, — 
 was completely out of sight for three minutes, then, 
 like a creature endowed with life, shot upward again 
 entirely out of the water, made another less despe- 
 rate plunge, and quietly pursued its course into the 
 Kennebeck. 
 
 In speaking of the Nameless Lake, it is necessary 
 that I should be a little egotistical. It is a fairy- 
 
286 
 
 LAKE LANMAN. 
 
 like sheet of pure water in the heart of the moun- 
 tain wilderness, only about a mile in length, but full 
 of trout. The proprietor was of the party that 
 accompanied me on my first visit. While approaching 
 it, the remark was made, that it was yet without a 
 name; when it was agreed that it should be 
 christened after that individual, who should on that 
 day throw the most successful fly. As fortune 
 would have it, the honour was awarded to me ; and 
 on a guide-board in the forest, three miles from 
 Bumham's, may be seen the figure of a hand, and 
 the words " Lake Lanman.^' There stands my 
 written name, exposed "to the peltings of the 
 pitiless storm ;" and in a few years, at the longest, 
 it will be washed away, and the tree which supports 
 it minghng with the dust. Will it be even thus 
 with the memory of name ? 
 
 Not to attempt a description of the scenery of the 
 Kennebeck, which could be only faithfully given by 
 the pictures of an artist, I will take my reader down 
 its beautiful valley, and tell him what I know 
 respecting its beautiful villages. v* ' 
 
 The first in order is Bingham, situated on a 
 fertile "interval,^' surrounded with picturesque 
 hills, charming and quiet as a summer day, and 
 containing within the jurisdiction of its town 
 
 % 
 
VILLAGES ON THE RENNEBECK. 
 
 287 
 
 my 
 the 
 
 an uncommonly fine farm^ belonging to a Mr. 
 Farlin^ who manufactures large quantities of maple 
 sugar. ..» '.M , ..; .,.<. .. ^ ^ 
 
 Solon is the next village in the Kennebeck valley, 
 remarkable for nothing but Caritunk Falls, which 
 are twenty feet high, and run through a gorge fifty 
 feet wide. Here I saw some twenty men '* driving" 
 the logs that had been lodged all along the river 
 when it was low. It is a laborious life which these 
 men lead, but they receive good pay, and meet with 
 many interesting adventures. They generally have 
 the soul to enjoy fine scenery, and therefore demand 
 the respect of the intelligent traveller. . r. 
 
 Anson, though in the valley of the Kennebeck, 
 is situated on Seven Mile Brook, and is a flourishing 
 business place. From its neighbouring hills may 
 be seen the sky-piercing peaks of Mount Blue, 
 Saddleback, Bigelow, and Mount Abraham, which 
 are the guardian spirits of Maine. The town is 
 distinguished for its agricultural enterprise, and the 
 abundance of its wheat, having actually produced 
 more than is reported from any other town in the 
 State. '\s^ I ' '' ■...: . . 
 
 Norridgwock, so named by the Kennebeck Indians, 
 because, when fighting with their enemies at this 
 place, they could find no-ridge-to-walk upon, which 
 was a desirable object. It is a charming little 
 
288 
 
 VILLAGES ON THE KENNEBECK. 
 
 village, and associated with a celebrated Indian 
 Chief named Bomazeen, and also with a Jesuit 
 Missionary, whose name I do not remember. Not 
 far from here is a picturesque fall, also a picturesque 
 bend of the Kennebeck, where empties Sandy 
 River, upon which are many extensive farms. 
 
 Skowhegan is a thriving village, where there are 
 fine falls, which I never could look upon without 
 thinking of the famous Glen's Falls in New York, 
 of which they are a complete counterpart, though 
 on a smaller scale. Many and very dear to me are 
 my recollections of its " choice bits" of scenery, of 
 the fine singing I there heard, of the acquaintances 
 there formed, and of the pleasant literary commun- 
 ings which were mine in company with one of the 
 best and most intellectual of women, who has for 
 many years been my " guide, counsellor, and 
 friend." 
 
 Waterville, the next town on the river, is the 
 seat of a Baptist College, and the head of naviga- 
 tion on account of the Ticonic Falls. It is the 
 centre of an extensive farming district, which fact, 
 together with the literary taste of its people, makes 
 it an interesting place. 
 
 Augusta, the capital of the State, is also on the 
 Kennebeck, and with its State House and other 
 State buildings, its admirably conducted hotels, its 
 
VILLAGES ON THE KENNEBECK. 
 
 289 
 
 commanding churcIieSj its large bridge, and pleasant 
 residences, is one of the most picturesque and 
 interesting towns in the whole of New England. 
 
 Hallowell, two miles below Augusta, was once a 
 great place of business, and is still a very pleasant 
 place, though unable to compete with its rival the 
 Capital. In my mind, it is chiefly associated with 
 some fine people, and particularly with three beauti- 
 ful sisters, who are great lovers of poetry and fine 
 musicians. / ; 
 
 Gardiner, further down, is a tremendous place for 
 saw-mills ; and lumbering I look upon as one of the 
 surest kinds of business. It contains the hand- 
 somest church-building in the State, and a number 
 of fine residences belonging to its wealthy citizens, 
 of which that one belonging to Mr. Gardiner (after 
 whom the place was named), is the most elegant. 
 
 Bath is the next and most southern town on 
 the Kennebeckj it is a large place, where there 
 is a great deal of shipping done, and now in a 
 flourishing condition. The sail down the river from 
 here is a most delightful one, for the eye revels on 
 a continual succession of pleasant farms, quiet head- 
 lands, solitary islands, and vessels of every kind 
 passing up and down the stream. Even to the 
 present day, the Kennebeck abounds in salmon, 
 which are caught with nets from the first of May 
 
 o 
 
290 
 
 VILLAGES ON THE RENNEBECK. 
 
 till midsummer. To take them with the hook is 
 indeed rare sporty and for the manner in which I 
 conquered a solitary individual I refer my reader to 
 a certain passage in " Scropc on Salmon Fishing." 
 Few are the rivers that I love more than the 
 Kennebeckj and very dear to me are its manifold 
 associations. 
 
 I date this chapter from Portland, which is a 
 thriving city of twenty thousand inhabitants, and 
 interesting to the admirers of genius, because it is 
 the native place of Mrs. Seba Smith, the poet 
 Longfellow, and John Neal. 
 
 
18 
 
 bh I 
 3r to 
 
 • / 
 
 ▲ FISHING PARTY. 
 
 291 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 A Fishing Party on the Thames— Watch Hill— Night Adventures. 
 
 •' Norwich. August. 
 
 A FEW mornings ago, just as the sun had risen 
 above the eastern hills, which look down upon the 
 Thames at Norwich, the prettiest sail-boat of the 
 place left her moorings, and with a pleasant 
 northerly breeze started for the Sound. Her pas- 
 sengers consisted of six gentlemen, all equipped in 
 their sporting jackets, and furnished with fishing 
 tackle, and their place of destination was Watch 
 Hill, a point of land in Rhode Island, extending 
 into the Atlantic, a few miles from Stoniugton. 
 We were on a fishing frolic, as a matter of course, 
 and a happier company, I ween, were never yet 
 afloat, for the sport of a morning breeze. What with 
 
 ' *.-*• ■ - ,«.■■■ 
 
292 
 
 a MOVING PANORAMA. 
 
 s; W- 
 
 \\ ■■' 
 
 the story, the jest, the iced lemonade and exquisite 
 cigar, tl . minutes glided by as swiftly and 
 unobserved as the tiny waves around us. Now we 
 met a solitary fisherman, towing for bass, and as 
 we hailed him with a friendly shout and passed 
 on, he began to talk in an under tone, and his 
 voice did not die away until we had turned a point. 
 What would I not give for an accurate record of 
 that old man's life ! Anon, we witnessed the sooth- 
 ing picture of a well-conducted farm, with its grccn- 
 girt cottage, spacious bams, neat and flowing fields, 
 with its horses, oxen, cows, sheep, hogs, and 
 poultry. Now we saw some noble men, such as 
 Ye ' delighted to paint, hauling the seine, and, 
 as the " fruit of all their toil " were thrown upon 
 the sand, their flipping forms reflected back the 
 sunlight, reminding us of — anything the reader 
 may be pleased to imagine. Now, we were over- 
 taken and tossed about by a steamer bound to New 
 Haven ; and then we sailed in company with a boat, 
 a sloop, and schooner ; meeting others, beating up, 
 from Boston, New York, and Philadelphia. And 
 the termination of this pleasing panorama was com- 
 posed of Gale's Ferry, the commanding town, fort, 
 and monument of Groton, together with the city 
 of New London, among whose anchored shipping 
 floated a saucy Revenue Cutter, and at whose docks 
 
A FORTUNATE ESCAPE. 
 
 293 
 
 were chained a goodly number of storm-beaten 
 whalers. 
 
 Having taken in our stores, and obtained from 
 the fish-market a basket of bait, we again hoisted 
 sail, bound first to Commit Rock, and binding 
 ourselves to capture all of the watery enemy which 
 might tempt the power or the dexterity of our 
 arms. ■-"'"" --"' --^ •■"■"-■■'-■ ''- /" ■- ;,;-^^/ :^.' -.=> 
 
 When about three miles from New London, all 
 eyes were attracted by a beautiful craft on our 
 lee, laden with a party of ladies and gentlemen. 
 "They're going toward a reef!'' exclaimed our 
 captain ; and no sooner had the words escaped his 
 lips, than the stranger struck, and stove a hole 
 through her bottom. We were just in time to save 
 the party from a watery grave ; and when we had 
 landed them in safety on the beach, we were well 
 repaid for our trouble by the consciousness of 
 having done a good act, and by the thankful words 
 and benignant smiles of the ladies fair. A dozen 
 minutes more and we were within an oar's 
 length of the fishing rock. "All ashore that's 
 coming !" shouted our mate, as he held the boat 
 fast, standing on the rock, when we all leaped 
 out, and plenty of line having been given her, 
 the boat swung to, and "like a cradled thing at 
 rest," floated upon the waves. Then commenced 
 
294 
 
 A PERILOUS SITUATION. 
 
 m 
 
 m 
 
 the sport. The breeze was refreshing, and the 
 breath of the salt sea-foam buoyed up our spirits to 
 a higher pitch, and gave new vigour to our sinews. 
 The youngest of the party was the first who threw 
 his hook, which was snapped in the twinkling of an 
 eye. Another trial, and a four-pound black-fish 
 lay extended upon the rock. Another, and another, 
 and another, until fourscore, even numbered, came 
 following after. Tired of the sport, two of the 
 party entered the boat, and hoisted sail for a little 
 cruize. Half an hour had elapsed, when the steady 
 breeze changed into a frightful gale, capsizing 
 within hailing distance, a small fishing smack, with 
 two old men in it. Hanging on, as they were, to 
 the keel of the boat, their situation was extremely 
 dangerous, as there was not a vessel within two 
 miles. The poor men beckoned to us to help 
 them ; but as our boat was gone, we could not do 
 so, which of course we much regretted. 
 
 For one long, long hour did they thus hang, 
 "midway betwixt life and death,'' exposed to the 
 dangers of being washed away by the remorseless 
 surge, or swallowed up, as we were afterwards told, 
 by a couple of sharks, which were kept away only 
 by the hand of Providence. This incident tended 
 to cool our ardour for fishing ; and as we were satis- 
 fied with that day's luck, we put up our gear. 
 
A SOLITARY WALK. 
 
 295 
 
 during which time the boat arrived, and we 
 embarked for the Hill. 
 
 We made one short turn, however, towards the 
 boat which had picked up the fishermen, as we 
 were anxious to tell them why we did not come to 
 their relief. We then tacked about, and the last 
 words we heard from our companions were, — 
 ''Thank you — ^thank you — God bless you all,*' 
 and until we had passed a league beyond Fisher's 
 Island, our little vessel ''carried a most beautiful 
 bone between her teeth." 
 
 At sunset we moored our little craft on the 
 eastern shore of Paucatuck Bay. On ascending 
 to the Watch Hill hotel, we found it to be a 
 large, well-furnished house, and our host to be a fat, 
 jolly Falstaff-ish sort of man, just suited to his 
 station. At seven o'clock we sat down to a black- 
 ish supper, then smoked a cigar, and while my 
 companions resorted to the ten-pin alley, I but- 
 toned up my pea-jacket, and sallied forth on 
 an exploring expedition. As I stood on the 
 highest point of the peninsula facing the south, 
 I found that the light-house was situated directly 
 before me, on the extreme point, that a smooth 
 beach faded away on either side, the left-hand 
 one being washed by the Atlantic, and that on the 
 right by the waters of Fisher Island Bay, and 
 
 i 
 
296 
 
 BEAUTIES OF CREATION. 
 
 that ^e dreai^ hills in my rear were dotted by 
 an occasional dwelling. The breeze had died away, 
 and the bright, fall moon was in the cloudless 
 sky. Many sails were in the of&ng, passing by and 
 being passed by the Providence and Stonington 
 steamboats bound to New York. The scenery 
 around me, and the loveliness of the sky, with its 
 galaxy of stars above, caused me to forget myself, 
 and I wandered far away upon the shore — alone, 
 in the awful presence of the great Atlantic Ocean. 
 No sounds fell upon my ear, save the muffled 
 roar of the ground swell, and the faint whispers of 
 the tiny waves as they melted upon the sand. I 
 traced my name, and beside it that of another, a 
 being beauteous, for whose cabinet of curiosities 
 I gathered many a round, smooth pebble, and many 
 a delicate sea-shell. I wandered on, now gazing 
 with wonder and admiration into the cerulean " 
 vault of Heaven, or into the still deeper blue of 
 the mighty sea ; and now singing with a loud voice 
 one of the sacred songs of the sweet singer of 
 Israel. Now, a thosand images of surpassing love- 
 liness darted across my vision, as I thought of 
 God— of an eternal life in heaven — and of love, 
 divine and human ; and then there came a weight 
 upon my spirit, as I remembered the powers of 
 darkness, the destiny of the condemned, and the 
 
MODE OF CATCHING BLUEFISH. 
 
 297 
 
 a 
 
 miseries engendered by our evil passions. One 
 taoment I deemed myself immortal, released for ever 
 from the contaminating influence of sin, and then 
 I thought of the valley of death, and trembled. In 
 that communion with the mysteries of the universe, 
 strongly blended as they were, I felt that I could 
 wander on without fatigue, until the whole earth 
 should be trodden by my pilgrim feet. But the 
 chilly air and the fading night warned me to 
 retrace my steps, and in an hour I had reached 
 my home. 
 
 When the sun rose from his ocean-bed on the 
 following morning, surrounded by a magnificent 
 array of clouds, I was up, and busily engaged pre- 
 paring for a day's fishing, — ^first, and before break- 
 fast, for bluefish, afterwards for blackfish, and then 
 for bass. While my companions were asleep, I 
 went out with an old fisherman, and by breakfast 
 time had captured thirty bluefish, weighing about 
 two pounds a-piece. The manner of catching these 
 is to tow for them with a long line, the bait being 
 a piece of ivory attached j a strong hook. They 
 are a very active and powerful fish, and when 
 hooked make a great fuss, skipping and leaping 
 out of the water. 
 
 At nine o'clock our party were at anchor on a 
 reef about one mile from shore ; and for the space of 
 
 o 3 
 
 ..* 
 
298 
 
 BASS FISHINO. 
 
 mm 
 
 about two hours we hauled in the blackfish as fast as 
 possible, many of them weighing eight to ten 
 poimds a-piece. For them, you must have a small 
 straight hook, and for bait, lobsters or crabs. A 
 broiled blackfish, when rightly cooked, is considered 
 one of the best of saltwater delicacies. 
 
 But the rarest of all fishing is that of catching 
 bass ; and a first-rate specimen I was permitted to 
 enjoy. About eleven o'clock, I jumped into the 
 surf-boat of an old fisherman, requesting him to 
 pull for the best bass ground with which he was 
 acquainted. In the mean time my friends had 
 obtained a large boat, and were going to follow us. 
 The ground having been reached, we let our boat 
 float wherever the tide and wind impelled it, and 
 began to throw over lines, using for bait the skin 
 of an eel six inches long. Those in the neighbour- 
 ing boat had fine luck, as they thought, having 
 caught some dozen five-pounders, and they seemed 
 to be perfectly transported because nearly an hour 
 had passed and I had caught nothing. In their 
 glee they raised a tremendous shout, but before it 
 had fairly died away, my line was suddenly straight- 
 ened, and I knew that I had a prize. Now it cut the 
 water like a streak of lightning, although there were 
 two hundred feet out, and as the fish returned I 
 still kept it taught ; and after ]^1« ving with him for 
 
HAULING THE SEINE. 
 
 299 
 
 US. 
 
 :*■ 
 
 about forty minutes^ I succeeded in drowning him, 
 then hauled up gradually, and with "my boat-hook 
 landed him in the boat safe and sound. The length 
 of that striped bass was four feet two inches, and 
 his weight, before cleaned, fifty-eight pounds. The 
 reader can easily imagine the chop-fallen appearance 
 of my brother fishermen, when they found out that 
 " the race is not always to the swift, nor the battle 
 to the strong." At three o'clock in the afternoon, 
 a piece of that bass tended to satisfy the appetite 
 which had been excited by his capture. 
 
 Satisfied with our piscatorial sports, we concluded 
 to spend the rest of the day quietly gathering shells 
 upon the beach ; but causes of excitement were still 
 around us. No sooner had we reached the water's 
 edge, than we discovered a group of hardy men 
 standing on a little knoll, in earnest conversation, 
 while some of them were pointing towards the sea. 
 " To the boat — ^to the boat," suddenly shouted their 
 leader, when they all descended with the speed of 
 Swiss mountaineers ; and on reaching a boat which 
 had been made ready, they pushed her into the 
 surf, when three of them jumped in, and thus com- 
 menced the interesting scene of hauling the seine. 
 There was something new and romantic to us in the 
 thought, that the keen and intelligent eye of man 
 could even penetrate into the deep, so far as to 
 
300 
 
 SOLITARY REFLECTIONS. 
 
 designate the course of travel of the tribes of the 
 sea. And when the seine was drawn^ it was a 
 thrilling sight to see those fishermen tugging at the 
 lineS; leaping into the surf, which sometimes com- 
 pletely covered them, to secure the tens of thousands 
 of fish which they had caught. There was a grace 
 and beauty about the whole scene, which made me 
 long for the genius of a Mount or a Bingham. 
 
 A little before sunset, I was again strolling along 
 the shore, when the following incident occurred. 
 The reader will please return with me to the spot. 
 Yonder on that fisherman's stake, a little sparrow 
 has just alighted, facing the main. It has been 
 lured away from the green bowers of home by the 
 music of the sea, and is now gazing, perhaps with 
 feelings kindred to my own, upon this most magni- 
 ficent structure of the Almighty hand. See ! it 
 spreads its wing, and is now darting towards the 
 water — ^fearless and free. Ah I it has gone too 
 near ! for the spray moistens its plumes ! There — 
 there it goes, frightened back to its native wood- 
 land. That little bird, so far as its power and 
 importance are concerned, seems to me a fit emblem 
 of the mind of man, and this great ocean an appro- 
 priate symbol of the mind of God. 
 
 The achievements of the human mind " have their 
 passing paragraphs of praise, and are forgotten." 
 
 -■ 
 
SOLITARY REFLECTIONS. 
 
 301 
 
 Man may point to the Pyramids of Egypt, which 
 are the admiration of the world, and exclaim, 
 " Behold the symbols of my power and importance!" 
 But most impotent is the boast. Those mighty 
 mysteries stand in the solitude of the desert, and 
 the glory of their destiny is fulfilled, in casting a 
 temporary shadow over the tent of the wandering 
 Arab. 
 
 The achievements of the Almighty mind are 
 beyond the comprehension of man, and lasting as 
 his own eternity. The spacious firmament, with its 
 suns, and moons, and stars; our globe, with its 
 oceans, and mountains, and rivers; the regularly 
 revolving seasons ; and the still, small voice conti- 
 nually ascending from universal nature, all proclaim 
 the power and goodness of their Great Original. 
 And everything which God has created, from the 
 nameless insect to the world of waters, and highway 
 of nations, was created for good, to accomplish some 
 omnipotent end. As this ocean is measureless and 
 fathomless, so is it an emblem, beautiful but faint, 
 of that wonderful Being, whose throne is above the 
 milky-way, and who is himself from everlasting to 
 everlasting. But see, there is a heavy cloud rising 
 in the west, the breeze is freshening, flocks of wild 
 ducks are flying inland, and the upper air is ringing 
 with the shrill whistle of the bold and wild sea-gull, 
 whose home is the boundless sea ; therefore, as the 
 
302 
 
 A POETIC REVERIE, 
 
 poet Noble has somewhere written, "the shortest 
 homeward track's the best." 
 
 Still in the present tense would I continue. The 
 witching hour of midnight has again returned. A 
 cold rain-storm has just passed over, and the moon 
 is again the mistress of a cloudless sky, but the 
 wind is still raging in all its fury. 
 
 " I view the ships that come and go, 
 
 Looking &o like to living things. 
 ! 'tis a proud and gallant show 
 Of bright and broad-spread wings, 
 Making it light around them, as they keep * 
 
 Their course right onward through the uasoi nded deep." 
 
 Dana. 
 
 God be with them and their brave and gallant 
 crews. But again, * 
 
 " Where the far-off said -bars lift ' 
 
 Their backs in long and narrow line, 
 The breakers shout, and leap, and shift, 
 
 And send the sparkling brine 
 Into the air ; then rush to mimic strife ; 
 Glad creatures of the sea, and full of life !" — Ibid. 
 
 But I must stop quoting poetry, for as " a thing 
 of beauty is a joy for ever,'' I should be for ever 
 writing about the sea. Heavens ! What a terrible 
 song is the ocean singing ! with his long white hair 
 streaming in the wind. The waving, splashing. 
 
TARDY PROGRESS. 
 
 308 
 
 8t 
 
 le 
 A 
 )n 
 le 
 
 ant 
 
 ing 
 ver 
 ible 
 lair 
 
 wailing, dashing, howling, rushing, and moaning of 
 the waves, is a glorious lullaby, and a fit prelude to 
 a dream of the sea. 
 
 At an early hour on the following day we em- 
 barked for home ; but a sorry time did we have of it, 
 for the winds were very lazy. We were ten hours 
 going the distance of twenty-two miles. It was now 
 sunset, not a solitary breath of air, and we were off 
 Gale's Ferry. Ashore we went, resolved to await 
 the coming of the Sag Harbor steamboat, which 
 usually arrived about nine o'clock, and by which we 
 were taken in tow. Snugly seated in our boat, and 
 going at the rate of eighteen miles, we were congra- 
 tulating ourselves upon an early arrival home. But, 
 alas, at this moment the painter broke, the steamer, 
 unconscious of our fate, still sped onward, while we 
 sheered off towards the shore, almost disgusted with 
 human life in general — for our boat was large, and 
 we had but one oar. But what matter ? We v/ere 
 a jolly set, and the way we gave three cheers, as a 
 prelude to the song of " Begone Dull Care," must 
 have been startling to the thousand sleeping echoes 
 of hill, forest, river, and glen. 
 
 Having crept along at snail's pace about one mile, 
 we concluded to land, and, if possible, obtain a place 
 to sleep, and something to eat ; for not having had 
 a regular dinner, and not a mouthful of supper, we 
 
304 
 
 INHOSPITABLE RECEPTION. 
 
 were half starved. With clubs in our hands^ to 
 keep off hobgoblins and bull dogs, we wended our 
 way towards a neighbouring farm-house, where we 
 knocked for admittance. Pretty soon a great 
 gawky-looking head stuck itself out of an upper 
 window, to which we made known our heartfelt 
 desires, receiving in return the following answer ; 
 " My wife is sick — hain't got any bread — you can 
 go in the barn to sleep if you want to;*' and we 
 turned reluctantly away, troubled with a feeling 
 very nearly allied to anger. " Come, let's go off in 
 this direction," exclaimed one of the party, "and 
 I'll introduce you to my old friend, Captain Some- 
 body ;" — and away we posted, two by two, across a 
 new-mown field. Presently our two leaders were 
 awe-stricken by the sudden appearance of something 
 white, which seemed to be rising out of the earth 
 beside a cluster of bushes, and the way they wheeled 
 about and put for the river, (accompanied by their 
 fellows, whose fright was merely sympathetic,) was 
 " a caution" to all unbelievers in ghosts and other 
 midnight spectres. . „ 
 
 At last we halted to gain a little breath, an expla- 
 nation was made, and our captain forthwith resolved 
 to investigate the matter. He now took the lead, 
 and on coming to the mysterious spot, discovered an 
 old blind white horse, who had been awakened by a 
 
AWKWARD PREDICAMENT. 
 
 805 
 
 to 
 our 
 
 we 
 Teat 
 
 noise, and, following the instinct of his nature, had 
 risen from his lair, to be better prepared for danger. 
 I doubt whether the echoes are yet silent, which 
 were caused by the load and long peals of laughter 
 which resounded to the sky. Being in a strange 
 land, without chart or compass, we could not find 
 the mortal dwelling place of Captain Somebody, 
 and so we changed our course of travel. 
 
 We stopped at another house, farther on, but to 
 save our lives we could not obtain an interview, 
 although we entered the hen-coop, and set the cocks 
 and hens a cackling and crowing, the pig-pen, 
 and set the hogs a squealing, while a large dog and 
 two puppies did their best to increase and prolong 
 the midnight chorus. If our farmer friend did not 
 deem himself transported to Bedlam, about that 
 time, we imagine that nothing on earth would have 
 the power to give him such a dream. Our ill-luck 
 made us almost desperate, and s^ we returned to 
 the boat, resolved to row the whole distance home, 
 could we but find an extra oar. 
 
 It was now eleven o'clock, and the only things 
 that seemed to smile upon us were the ten thousand 
 stars, studding the clear, blue firmament. Anon, a 
 twinkling light beamed upon our vision ; and as we 
 approached, we found it to proceed from a little hut 
 on an island, where a Thames lamplighter and his 
 
 p<i 
 
 r 
 
ao6 
 
 A CHOWDER. 
 
 boy were accustomed to pass the night after their 
 work was done. Having again landed^ we re- 
 ceived a hearty welcome, as the host proved to 
 be an old acquaintance of our captain and mate. 
 " Have you anything to eat ?" was almost the first 
 question of every tongue. ''No, nothing but this 
 barrel of crackers and some cheese/' exclaimed the 
 man of light. " And we,'' shouted one of our 
 crew, " have plenty of fish ; — can't we have a 
 chowder ?" " Ay, ay ! a chowder, a chowder it 
 shall be," were the words which rang aloud to the 
 very heavens. A wherry was despatched to the 
 main-land, to the well-known habitation of an old 
 fisherman, for the necessary iron pot and bowls ; 
 for the potatoes and onions, which were dug for the 
 occasion ; for the pork, the pepper, and salt ; all 
 which, added to our biscuit and black-fish, nicely 
 cleaned and prepared, constituted a chowder of the 
 very first water. There was one addition to our 
 company, in the person of the old fisherman; and 
 our appearance, as we were seated in a circle on the 
 floor, each with a bowl of thick hot soup in his 
 hands, constituted a picture rich and rare. After 
 we had finished it was acknowledged by all, that a 
 better meal had never been enjoyed by mortal man. 
 In about thirty minutes from this time the odd one 
 of the company bade us ''good night," and the 
 
RETURN HOME. 
 
 307 
 
 their 
 
 midnight brotherhood resigned themselves to sleep. 
 The last sounds I heard^ before closing my eyes, 
 were caused by the regular opposition steam-boats 
 from New York, as they shot by the island almost 
 as " swift as an arrow from a shivering bow." 
 
 The first faint streak of daylight found us on 
 board our boat, homeward bound, wafted on by a 
 pleasant southerly breeze. At the usual hour, we 
 were all seated at our respective breakfast tables, 
 relating our adventures of the excursion just 
 ended. 
 
 
 «' 
 

 308 
 
 A WEEK IN 
 
 i 
 
 m 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 A week in a Fishing Sm.ack — Fishennan — A beautiful morning 
 at sea — A day at Nantucket — Wreck of a ship— Night on the 
 Sound. 
 
 Norwich. August. 
 
 On a pleasant Monday morning I started from 
 Norwich, bound to New London, and from thence 
 to any other portion of the world where I might 
 have some sport in the way of salt-water fishing. 
 In less than an hour after landing from the steam- 
 boat, I had boarded the handsome smack Orleans, 
 Captain Keeney, and by dint of much persuasion, 
 secured a berth on board, to accompany him on a 
 fishing voyage. In addition to my previous prepa- 
 rations, I had only to purchase a Guernsey shirt and 
 tarpaulin ; and by the time I was regularly equipped, 
 
A FISHING SMACK. 
 
 309 
 
 the sails were hoisted^ and we were on our course 
 for Nantucket. An intimate acquaintance was soon 
 formed br'ween myself and crew, which consisted 
 of the master, two sailors, and the cook. The whole 
 time that I spent in their company was six days, as 
 I reached home on the following Saturday evening. 
 The incidents that I met with were somewhat new, 
 as a matter of course, and I employed a few 
 moments of every evening during my absence, in 
 briefly recording the events of the past day; and 
 that medley I now put together as a literary 
 chowder. 
 
 Monday Evening. — My observations to-day have 
 been limited to our little vessel, in consequence of a 
 dense fog, which drenched us to the skin, and seems 
 likely to continue. I have obtained some information, 
 however, concerning the character of an interesting 
 class of men. Smack-fishermen are a brave, hardy, 
 honest, and simple-hearted race, and as my captain 
 tells me, spend nine-tenths of their time " rocked in 
 the cradle of the deep.'' Their vessels, or smacks, are 
 generally of about forty tons burthen ; the number 
 of those which supply New York and Boston with 
 fish is said to be near a thousand, and they are all 
 at home anywhere on the coast between the Kenne- 
 beck and the Delaware. Of the perils which these 
 fishermen endure, and the privations they suffer, 
 
 I 
 
810 
 
 A WEEK IN 
 
 how little is known or thought by the great world 
 at large! Yet I believe there is as much true 
 happiness in their lives, as in those of any other 
 class. Their fathers were fishermen before them, 
 and as they themselves have mostly been bom within 
 hearing of the surf, they look upon the unsounded 
 deep as their fitting home — their only home, and 
 would not part with it for a palace or a crown. 
 Four is the usual number of a smack's crew, and 
 the master is invariably called a skipper. Most of 
 them are worthy husbands and fathers, whose 
 families are snugly harboured in some convenient 
 sea-port, with enough and to spare of the good 
 things of life. They are a jovial set of men, hailing 
 each other upon the ocean as friends, and meeting 
 upon land as brothers. Each skipper thinks his 
 craft the handsomest and swiftest that floats, and 
 very exciting are the races they sometimes run. 
 Their affection for their own vessel is like that of 
 the Arab for his steed, and like the Arab, too, they 
 have been known to weep over the grave of their 
 darling and their pride. 
 
 . The kinds of fish which they mostly bring to 
 market are shad, salmon, lobsters, mackerel, cod, 
 bluefish, haddock, blackfish, pangies, bass, and 
 halibut. The first three are generally purchased of 
 local fishermen, but all the rest are caught by thciii- 
 
A FISHING SMACK. 
 
 311 
 
 t woi Id 
 ;h true 
 J other 
 
 them, 
 I within 
 Dunded 
 e, and 
 crown. 
 w, and 
 lost of 
 
 whose 
 yrenient 
 ; good 
 hailing 
 aeeting 
 iks his 
 ts, and 
 8 run. 
 that of 
 
 0, they 
 )f their 
 
 ing to 
 
 1, cod, 
 , and 
 sed of 
 
 them- 
 
 selves. The haunts of the blackfish are rocky reefs, 
 those of the bass and Jbluefish, in the vicinity of 
 sandy shoals or tide rips, and those of the remainder 
 in about fifteen fathom water. These are the 
 varieties they capture by way of business ; but when 
 in a frolicsome mood, they frequently attack a sword- 
 fish, a shark, or black whale; and soul-thrilling 
 indeed, and laughable withal, are the yarns they 
 spin concerning these exploits. 
 
 As to their mode of living, while at sea, it is just 
 what it should be, and what they would have it, 
 although it would be positively shocking to a 
 Bond Street gentleman. But they always possess a 
 good appetite, which is what money cannot pur- 
 chase, and without which the greatest delicacy in 
 the world would be insipid or loathsome. ' sh, 
 sea-biscuit, corned-beef, and pork, potatoes, onions, 
 and pancakes, constitute their provisions, and what 
 besides these would a reasonable man desire? It 
 is with a mixture of some of these, that a chowder 
 is concocted, and where can anything more delicious 
 be found ? And with these ingredients, moreover, 
 they manage very well to keep body and soul 
 together, unless a storm on a rock-bound coast 
 happens to make a sudden separation. 
 
 I have just been on deck, and must say that 
 I resume my pen with a heavier heart. The fog 
 
I 't 
 
 812 
 
 A WEEK IN 
 
 has not dispersed in the least, a regular gale of 
 wind is blowing from the north, and the waves, 
 seemingly in a revengeful mood, are tossing our 
 bark about, as if the skipper, like the Ancient 
 Mariner, had shot another albatros. But, Uke a 
 fearless man as he is, he stands at the helm, 
 watching the sails with a steady eye, and the men 
 with their storm-jackets on are standing by, mutter- 
 ing something about the coming darkness, and a 
 reef somewhere on our lee. Never before have I 
 80 distinctly understood the force of the Psalmist's 
 simile, when he compares a wave to a drunken 
 man reeling to and fro. Both have it in their 
 power to cause a mighty mischief, and both become 
 exhausted and perish — one upon a sandy beach, 
 and the other sweeping over the peninsula of time, 
 finds a grave on the shore of oblivion. Heavens ! 
 how the wind whistles, and the waters roar ! Ay, 
 but a still small voice salutes my ear, and I lay 
 me down to sleep, with a prayer upon my lips, 
 and a feeling of security at my heart, as I place 
 implicit confidence in Him who holdeth the ocean in 
 the hollow of his hand. 
 
 Tuesday Evening. — I was awakened out of a 
 deep sleep this morning by the following saluta- 
 tion from the skipper, as he patted me on the 
 shoulder, 
 
A FISHING SMACK. 
 
 818 
 
 " It's a beautiful morning, and you ought to be 
 up — ^the fog is gone, and the wind is down ; won't 
 you come up and take the helm awhile— so that 
 the boys and I may obtain a little sleep before 
 reaching the fishing-ground, which will be about 
 ten o'clock?" , . .^..,, 5,, 
 
 > I was delighted to accept the invitation, and in 
 a vei*y short time the sailors were asleep, and I in 
 my n^w station, proud as a king, and happy 
 as a sinless boy. And, oh ! that I could describe 
 the scene that fascinated my eyes as I lay there 
 upon the deck, with one arm reposing on the 
 rudder, and my other hand grasping a Claude 
 glass ! I felt as I once felt before, when standing 
 on the famous precipice of Niagara, that then, more 
 than ever, I desired God to be my friend. I also 
 felt, that if the world did not demand the feeble 
 services of my life, I should wish to remain upon 
 the ocean for ever, provided I could have " one fair 
 being for my minister." More earnestly than ever 
 did I long for a complete mastery of my art. The 
 fact of being out of sight of land, where the blue 
 element announced that the ocean was soundless, 
 filled my soul with that " lone, lost feeling," which 
 is supposed to be the eagle's, when journeying to 
 the zenith of the sky. The sun had just risen 
 above the waves, and the whole eastern portion of 
 
 *»: 
 
314 
 
 A WEEK IN 
 
 the heavens was flooded with the most exquisite 
 colouring I ever beheld — ^from the deepest crimson 
 to the faintest and most delicate purple^ from the 
 darkest yellow to an almost invisible green ; and 
 all blended^ too^ in forms of marvellous loveliness. 
 A reflection of this scene was also visible in the 
 remaining quarters of the horizon. Around me the 
 illimitable deep, whose bosom is studded with many 
 a gallant and glittering ship, ^ .^ 
 
 that have the plain ' 
 
 Of ocean for their own domain. 
 
 The waves are lulling themselves to rest, and a 
 balmy breeze is wandering by, as if seeking its old 
 grandfather, who kicked up the grand " rumpus" 
 last night ; whereby I learn, that the ofispring of a 
 " rough and stormy sire," are sometimes very 
 beautiful and affectionate to the children of men. 
 But look, even the dwellers in the sea and of the 
 sea are participating in the hilarity of this bright 
 morning ! Here, a school of herrings are skipping 
 along like a frolicsome party of vagabonds as they 
 are — and yonder a shark has leaped out of the 
 water, to display the symmetry of his form, and 
 the largeness of his jaw, and looking as if he 
 thought " that land-lubber would make me a first- 
 rate breakfast ;*' there, a lot of porpoises are playing 
 " leap-frog," or some other outlandish game ; and, 
 
 (^ 
 
A FISHING SMACK. 
 
 315 
 
 xquisite 
 crimson 
 om the 
 Q ; and 
 eliness. 
 in the 
 me the 
 1 many 
 
 and a 
 its old 
 
 >f 
 
 aipus 
 5 of a 
 
 very 
 ' men. 
 of the 
 bright 
 pping 
 5 they 
 f the 
 , and 
 if he 
 first- 
 aying 
 
 and, 
 
 H» 
 
 a little beyond them, a gentleman sword-fish is 
 swaggering along to parts unknown, to fight a 
 duel in cold blood with some equally cold-blooded 
 native of the Atlantic ; and now, a flock of gulls are 
 cleaving their course to the south, to the floating 
 body, perhaps, of a drowned mariner, which their 
 sagacity has discovered a league or two away — and 
 now, again, I notice a flock of petrels, hastening 
 onward to where the winds blow, and the waves 
 are white. Such are the pictures I beheld in my 
 brief period of command. It may have been but 
 fancy, but I thought my little vessel was trying to 
 eclipse her former beauty, and her former speed. 
 One thing I know^ that she " walked the water like 
 a thing of life.'^ 
 
 I fancied, too, that I was the identical last man 
 whom Campbell saw in his vision, and that I was 
 then b^^und to the haven of eternal rest. But my 
 shipmates returning from the land of Nod, and a 
 certain clamour within my own body having caught 
 my ear, I became convinced that to break my fast 
 would make me happier than anything else just at 
 that time, and I was soon as contented as an 
 alderman at five p.m. About two hours after this, 
 we reached our fishing-place, which was twenty miles 
 east of Nantucket. We then lowered the jib and 
 topsail, and having luffed, and fastened the main- 
 
 p 2 
 
316 
 
 A WEEK IN 
 
 sheetj 80 that the smack could easily floaty we hauled 
 out our lines, and commenced fishing, baiting our 
 hooks with, clams, of which we had some ten 
 bushels on board. Cod fishing (for we were on a 
 codding cruise) is rather dull sport; it is, in fact, 
 what I would call hard labour. In six hours we 
 had caught all the skipper wanted, or that the well 
 would hold, so we made sail again, bound to New 
 York ; and at supper-time the deck of our smack 
 was as clean and dry, as if it had never been pressed 
 save by the feet of ladies. At sunset, however, a 
 fierce southerly wind sprang up, so that we were 
 compelled to make a harbour ; and just as I am 
 closing this record, we are anchoring at Nantucket, 
 with a score of storm-beaten whales on our starboard 
 bow. * 
 
 ' Wednesday Evening, The weather to-day has been 
 threatening, and the skipper thought it best to 
 remain at our moorings ; but with me the day 
 has not been devoid of interest ; for, in my sailor 
 garb, I have been strolling about the town, studying 
 the solemn drama of life, while playfully acting a 
 subordinate part myself. This morning, as it hap- 
 pened, I went into the public cemetery, and spent 
 an hour conning over the rude inscriptions to the 
 memory of the departed. In that city of the dead, 
 I saw a number of the living walking to and fro. 
 
A FISHING SMACK. 
 
 317 
 
 but there was one who attracted my particular 
 attention. He was a seaman of noble presence, 
 seated upon an unmarked mound^ with his feet 
 resting upon a smaller one beside it, his head 
 reclined upon one hand, while the other was 
 occasionally passed across his face, as if wiping 
 away a tear. I hailed him with a few kind> 
 questions, and my answer was the following brief 
 tale. 
 
 " Yes, sir, four years ago, I shipped aboard that 
 whaler yonder, leaving behind me, in a sweet little 
 cottage of my own, a mother, a wife, and an only 
 boy. They were all in the enjoyment of good 
 health, and happy ; and, when we were under sail, 
 and I saw from the mast-head how kindly they 
 waved their handkerchiefs beside my door, I too was 
 happy, even in my hour of grief. Since that time I 
 have circumnavigated the globe, and every rare curio- 
 sity I could obtain was intended for my darling 
 ones at home. Last Saturday our ship returned. I 
 asked no questions of the pilot for he was a 
 stranger, but I landed, flew to my dwelUng, and 
 found it locked. The flagging in my yard attracted 
 my notice, and I thought it strange that the rank 
 grass had been suffered to grow over it so thickly. 
 The old minister passed by my gate, and running to 
 him with extended hand, I inquired for my family. 
 
318 
 
 A W£EK IN 
 
 *|5 
 
 " Oh Mr. B.," said he, " you must bless the Lord, 
 — he gave them to you, and he hath taken them 
 away." And as the thought stole into my brain, my 
 suffering, sir, was intense, and I longed to die. 
 And there they are, my wife and darling child, and, 
 a step or two beyond, my dear old mother. Peace 
 to their memories." 
 
 Such was the simple story, and I have pondered 
 much upon the world of woe which must be hidden 
 in the breast of that old mariner. 
 
 After dinner, to-day, I got into company with 
 some fishermen who were going after bass and 
 bluefish, and in a short time I had captured, with 
 my own hands, two big bass and some dozen blue- 
 fish, — ^which I packed in ice as a present to some 
 New York friends. 
 
 At my present time of writing, which is near ten 
 o^ clock at night, we are weighing anchor, and the 
 skipper tells me we shall be in New York by to- 
 morrow's sunset. An hour before coming on board 
 this evening, I lounged into a sailor boarding-house, 
 and mingled as freely with a company of whalemen 
 there, as if I had been a bond fide member of the 
 craft. I heard a great deal that interested me, and 
 was sorry that I could not remain longer. There 
 were some in that company lately arrived from 
 every portion of the world, and yet they were 
 
A FISHING SMACK. 
 
 319 
 
 engaged in the same business, and had journeyed 
 on the same mighty highway of nations. One was 
 descanting upon the coral islands of the Torrid zone, 
 another upon the ice-mountains of the Arctic Sea, a 
 third was describing the coast of California, and 
 another the waters that lave the Eastern shore of 
 Asia. The more I listened to these men, the more 
 did the immensity of ocean expand before my mind, 
 and in the same proportion was I led to wonder at 
 the wisdom of the Creator. 
 
 I have just been on deck, and find that we are on 
 the way to our desired haven, wafted by a steady 
 and pleasant breeze. Our course is between 
 Martha's Vineyard and Rhode Island, a route 
 studded with islands and seaports, that now appear 
 in the cool starlight like the pictures of fairy 
 land. 
 
 Thursday Evening, Instead of coming through 
 the Sound last night, we headed our vessel outside 
 of Long Island, and after a delightful sail have 
 realized our skipper's promise, for we are now 
 floating beside the market in New York. The 
 reason assigned for taking the outside course was, 
 that the fish would keep better, on account of the 
 greater coldness of the water. Nothing of peculiar 
 interest has happened to us to-day, except the 
 
320 
 
 A WEEK IN 
 
 meeting with a wreck off Sandy Hook. It was tlie 
 hull of a large ship^ whose name we could not 
 discern. It had a very old appearance^ and from 
 the moss and sea-weed that covered it^ we supposed 
 it must have been afloat for many months^ the 
 plaything of the waves. "Man marks the earth 
 with ruin/' but who is it that scatters such splendid 
 ruins upon the ocean? And a thousand remorse- 
 less surges echo back the answer : " To us, belong 
 the glory of those deeds.'' If that wreck had 
 language, what a strange, eventfcd history would it 
 reveal! Its themes would be, — ^home and all its 
 treasures lost; the sea, and all its dangers; the 
 soul, and all its agonies ; the heart, and all its suf- 
 ferings. But when we multiply all this as fast as 
 time is multiplying it, we cannot but realize the 
 idea, that human life is but a probationary state, 
 and that sorrow and sighing are our earthly in- 
 heritance. = lr ,:, -■ .i 
 
 Friday Evening, After portioning out my fish 
 *this morning, and sending them to my friends, I 
 put on my usual dress, and having obtained a six 
 hours' furlough, set off towards Broadway, where, 
 between the reading rooms and the studios of a few 
 artists, I managed to spend my time very pleasantly. 
 At noon, we embarked for New London and had a 
 
A FISHING SMACK. 
 
 321 
 
 SIX 
 
 delightful time, passing through the East Biver 
 and that pleasing panorama from the city to the 
 Sound, never before appeared more beautiful. 
 
 It is now late, and I have been on 
 deck all the evening alone. In a thoughtful 
 mood I fixed my eyes upon the stars, and my 
 spirits were saddened by the continual murmur 
 of the sea. Of what avail, thought I, is all 
 this excitement ? Why was I created, and what is 
 my destiny ? Is it to sail for a few brief years 
 longer upon the ocean of life, and, when the death- 
 tempest overtakes me, to pass away unloved and 
 unremembercd by a single human heart ? Tf not 
 an honoured name, can I not leave behind me an 
 humble memory, that will be cherished by a few, 
 to whom I have laid bare my innermost soul, when 
 I was younger than I am, and a himdred-fold more 
 happy ? What ! night ! what is my destiny ? 
 
 Saturday Evening. We anchored off New Lon- 
 don to-day, in time for me to take the evening 
 steamer for Norwich. When I parted with my 
 " shipmates," I shook each one affectionately by the 
 hand, and thought that I might travel many years 
 without finding a brotherhood of nobler men. I 
 reached home as the eight o'clock bells were ringing, 
 and was reminded that another week of precious 
 
322 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 time was gone. That the past must be remembered 
 as an unprofitable week, I cannot believe, for I feel 
 that my soul, has been enlarged^ and my heart 
 humbled by listening to the teachings of the 
 mighty deep. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Printed by Scbulze & Co., 13, Poland Street. 
 
mbered 
 r I feel 
 
 y heart 
 of the