CHAPTER II.

The Pine twenty-five Years ago.--Its rapid Disappearance.--Explorations. --Outfit.--Up-river Journeying.--Its Distance.--Mode of Nightly Encampment.--Cooking.--Disturbed Slumbers.--Ludicrous Fright.--Deer. --Encounter with Bears.--Mode of Exploring.--Forest Observatory.-- Climbing Trees.--The Emotions excited by the View.--Necessity of Compass.--Nature's Compass.--The Return.--Annoyances from mischievous Bears.--Stumpage.--Permits.--Outfit and Return.--Crossing Carrying-places.--A Strong Man.--Skill of Boatmen.--Item of personal Experience.--Blind Path.--A Family in the Wilderness.--Things to be considered in locating Camps.

Allusion has been made to the peculiarity of the Pine-tree in associating together in clusters or families. It is now a rare thing to find a sufficient quantity of timber in one of those clusters to meet the demands of a team during the usual period of hauling, which is about three months.

Twenty-five or thirty years ago, large tracts of country were covered principally with Pine-trees. Those tracks seemed purposely located in the vicinity of lakes, large streams, and rivers; a winter's work could then be made contiguous to improved portions of the country, which rendered little previous exploration necessary. But the woodman's ax, together with the destructive fires which have swept over large districts from time to time, have, so to speak, driven this tree far back into the interior wilderness. In fact, the Pine seems doomed, by the avarice and enterprise of the white man, gradually to disappear from the borders of civilization, as have the Aborigines of this country before the onward march of the Saxon race.

The diminished size and number of these Pine communities, near the borders of civil and agricultural abodes, added to the fact that this tree has been pursued to wild and unknown forest regions, renders exploring expeditions previous to the commencement of a winter's campaign absolutely indispensable, at least to insure success. This labor is performed, more or less, at all periods of the year; but, perhaps, the more general and appropriate time is found to be during the earlier part of autumn. The work of exploring is often performed during the winter, while the crews are on the ground, in camp. The difficulty of traveling through deep snows is overcome by the use of the snow-shoe, which enables the wearer to walk upon the surface of the untrodden snow. This shoe is about three feet long by sixteen inches wide, oval before and tapering to a point behind. It is simply a flat net-work, made from thongs of green hide, surrounded by a slender frame or bow of wood. This net-work is fastened, near the middle, to the bottom of the boot, and the woodman, throwing himself along, one side at a time, with a lengthened pace-like stride, passes over the ground at a rapid rate.

When the business of timber-hunting is deferred until autumn, the following method is practiced: Two or three men accustomed to the business take the necessary provisions, which usually consists of ship-bread, salt pork, tea, sugar, or molasses; for cooking utensils, a coffee-pot or light tea-kettle, a tin dipper, sometimes a frying-pan, a woolen blanket or two for bed-clothes, and an ax, with gun and ammunition; all of which are put on board a _skiff_, if the exploration is to be on the St. Croix, or on a _bateau_ if on the Penobscot River, with two sets of propellers, setting-poles for rapids, and paddles to be used on dead water.

With these slight preparations, away we start; now making our way up the main river, then shooting along up the less capacious branches; sometimes performing a journey of two hundred miles far into the interior, in those solitudes which never before, perhaps, echoed with the tones of the white man's voice. The location for our nightly encampments are selected in time to make the necessary arrangements for refreshment and repose, before the darkness shuts down over the dense wilderness that surrounds us. Selecting a proper site near some gushing spring, or where a murmuring streamlet plays along its romantic little channel, we pitch our tent, which formerly consisted of a slender frame of little poles, slightly covered on the top and at each end with long boughs, the front entirely open, before which burns the watch-fire, by whose light the deep darkness of a forest night is rendered more solemn and palpable.

In some instances a large blanket is spread over the frame; and when there are good reasons to expect rain, we haul our boat up, turn it bottom side up, and crawl beneath it, this proving a sure protection from the falling rain or dew. Of late, small portable tent-coverings are used, which prove very convenient.

Next the evening meal is prepared. Here the tea is thoroughly boiled, in the coffee-pot or tea-kettle, over the little fire. A thin slice of salt pork is cut, and, running a sharp stick through it, it is held over the fire and roasted, being withdrawn occasionally to catch the drippings on a cake of pilot or ship bread. This is a good substitute for buttered toast, the roasted pork making an excellent rasher. Sometimes we ate the pork raw, dipping it in molasses, which some relish; and though the recital may cause, in delicate and pampered stomachs, some qualms, yet we can assure the uninitiated that, from these gross simples, the hungry woodsman makes many a delicious meal. After _pipe_ devotions (for little else ascends from forest altars, though we have sometimes heard the voice of prayer even in the logging swamps), we throw our weary limbs upon our boughy couches to seek repose in the slumbers of night.

Sometimes our slumbers are disturbed by the shrill whooping of the owl, whose residence is chosen in those lonely solitudes of dense woodlands, where this ghostly watchman of the night makes the wild wood reverberate with the echo of his whoo-ho-ho-whah-whoo! which is enough, as one has observed, to frighten a garrison of soldiers. Few sounds, I am certain, so really harmless in themselves, awaken such a thrill of terror, as it breaks suddenly upon the ear during the stillness and loneliness of the midnight hour.

As I lay one night encamped upon the banks of a small stream which contributed its mite to the accumulating waters of the Penobscot River, an opportunity presented itself of testing the strength of my nerves. It was during the midnight hour, when even the trees seemed to sleep profoundly. Not a zephyr moved a twig, and the silence which reigned was painful. Rendered somewhat restless from the combined circumstances of the previous day's labor and a hard bed, I lay musing upon an account which I had formerly read of a midnight attack upon a company of militia, during the sanguinary struggles of the Revolution, by a party of savages. In the midst of my revery, I fancied that I could almost hear the stealthy footsteps of the wily Indian, when a sudden scream from a tree-top, nearly over the spot where I lay, brought me upon my feet at a bound. Seizing my gun, I looked aloft to see if I could discover the author of my sudden fright. By the light of the fire which still burned in the front of the tent, I discovered a pair of large eyes, resembling those of a cat. In an instant the woods echoed with the sharp report of my gun, when down came his owlship with a summerset to the ground. I have often listened to the quaint old figure, "I was not brought up in the woods to be scared by an owl," yet I think few can listen to the whooping of this solitary bird in the solemnity and stillness of midnight without being conscious of their susceptibility to emotions of fear, even though the judgment is assured of the absence of all that could harm.

Sometimes the tramping of timid deer, attracted by the waning light of our watch-fire, or some roving beast of prey, attracted by the savory vapors of our evening meal, startle us from our slumbers. "Once, while on a timber-hunting excursion," said a mess-mate, "on the east branch of the Penobscot, the night being very mild, and feeling too much fatigued to make the usual preparations for security, we built our fire near the trunk of a large prostrate tree. When we laid down our heads were near the fallen tree, which protected us somewhat from the current of air, but we were without covering, except the spreading branches of the trees. We had not lain long before we heard a heavy tramping some little way off. It approached nearer and nearer, until the animal seemed directly upon us.

"As I lay upon my back, I turned my eyes upward, when they met the full gaze of a large bear, which stood with its fore paws on the log directly over my head. In an instant I sprang upon my feet, and, seizing a brand from the fire, I hurled it after him, at the same instant making the woods tremble with the echo of my voice.

"Alarmed at my sudden motions, and more than all at the fiery messenger, which emitted thousands of sparks as it whizzed along after him, glancing from tree to tree in its course, at each concussion emitting new volleys of fiery particles, without stopping to apologize for his intrusion upon our sleeping apartment, he plunged into the forest at full speed. By the rustling of dry leaves and the cracking of fallen limbs, we could hear him a long way off, with unabated energy fleeing from the object of his terror. Next morning we came across an old she-bear and her cubs. We had a spirited little dog with us, who instantly encountered the bear; but one blow from her paw completely disabled him, and his injuries proved so serious that we were obliged to kill the little fellow, much to our regret, for, of all places in the world, the companionship of a good dog is most valued in the woods. One of our men caught a cub; it struggled and whined, which soon attracted the attention of the old one. She at once rushed after him, and he was soon glad to drop his prize, but not until the old dam had nearly torn his clothes from his back.

"Arriving at length upon or near the territory to be explored, we haul our bateau safely on shore, and turn it bottom upward. Then, dividing our luggage into parcels, and making use of our blankets for knapsacks, we begin to traverse the wild forests, unfrequented except by the stately moose, the timid deer, the roaming black bear, and other wild animals of less note, whom we frequently disturb in their solitary haunts.

"The uneven surface of the country, together with the density of the forest, circumscribe the range of vision. To overcome this impediment, we ascend into the top of some lofty tree. Sometimes extensive views of the surrounding forest are obtained from the side of abrupt ridges, and from the top of a _Horseback_. This latter is an "extremely curious ridge, and consists of sand and gravel, built up exactly like the embankments for rail-roads, the slope on either side being about 30°, while it rises above the surrounding low lands" from thirty to ninety feet. Dr. Jackson speaks of one in particular, between Weston and Houlton, in the northeastern part of Maine, "the top of which is perfectly level, and wide enough for two carriages to pass abreast."

"Its surface was originally covered with Maple, Birch, and hard Pine-trees, while the low lands on either side are covered with a dense growth of Cedars. I could not help thinking, as I looked upon this natural embankment, that it would be easy for an antiquarian to mistake this ridge for a work of art, and to suppose that some of the aboriginal inhabitants of our country knew how to annihilate distance by rail-roads. My first impression respecting the geological origin of this embankment was that it was alluvial, and formed the bank on intervening shores of two lakes which existed in the low tracts, now covered with Cedars; but, on examining the nature of the materials of which it is composed, I became satisfied that it belonged to the formation of transported clay, sand, gravel, and bowlders, which is called diluvium, consisting of the loose fragments of rocks that were transported by a mighty current of water the last time the waters prevailed over the land. The occurrence of similar embankments at Houlton served to confirm this opinion, for there they had the same north and south direction, a coincidence so remarkable that it could not be the result of chance. The Horsebacks of New Limerick and Houlton are much more elevated" (as indeed they are on the banks or a little removed from the shores of the Mattawamkeag River), "and some of them are said to rise to the height of ninety feet." "I can not stop to speculate on the causes of this transportation of loose materials, but I may say that there are abundant proofs, on the whole face of this continent, that there has been a mighty rush of waters over its surface from the north and northwest, and that such a current has swept over the highest mountains of Massachusetts."

When it is necessary to obtain views from low lands, the obstructions are overcome by ascending the highest trees. When an ascent is to be made, the Spruce-tree is generally selected, principally for the superior facilities which its numerous limbs afford the climber. To gain the first limbs of this tree, which are from twenty to forty feet from the ground, a smaller tree is undercut and lodged against it, clambering up which the top of the Spruce is reached. In some cases, when a very elevated position is desired, the Spruce-tree is lodged against the trunk of some lofty Pine, up which we ascend to a height twice that of the surrounding forest.

From such a tree-top, like a mariner at the mast-head upon the "look-out" for whales (for indeed the Pine is the whale of the forest), large "clumps" and "veins" of Pine are discovered, whose towering tops may be seen for miles around. Such views fill the bosom of timber-hunters with an _intense interest_. They are the object of his search, his treasure, his _El Dorado_, and they are beheld with peculiar and thrilling emotions. To detail the process more minutely, we should observe that the man in the tree-top points out the direction in which the Pines are seen; or, if hid from the view of those below by the surrounding foliage, he breaks a small limb, and throws it in the direction in which they appear, while a man at the base marks the direction indicated by the falling limb by a compass which he holds in his hand, the compass being quite as necessary in the wilderness as on the pathless ocean.

In fair weather the sun serves as an important guide; and in cloudy weather the close observation of an experienced woodsman will enable him to steer a tolerably correct course by the moss which grows on the trunks of most hard-wood trees, the north side of which are covered with a much larger share than the other portions of the trunk. This Indian compass, however, is not very convenient nor safe, particularly in passing through swampy lands, which are of frequent occurrence.

After spending several days in scouring the wilderness in search of the Pines, minutely examining their quality (for an experienced lumberman can determine this with surprising certainty), calculating the distance the logs may have to be hauled, and noting the surface of the land through which the logging roads are to be cut, &c., we retrace our steps to the landing, where the bateau has been left. Once more our frail bark floats upon the dancing current of the stream, gliding onward as if stimulated with the very joyousness of the "homeward bound" voyagers. After several days' exploration on foot, the boat ride is particularly welcome. In the realization of this, however, we are sometimes sadly, even provokingly disappointed.

It is known to those versed in the habits of the black bear, that late in the fall of the year they manifest an uncommon fondness for pitch or resinous substances. In the course of my travels through the forest, I have often seen Fir-trees which contained large quantities of balsam, with their bark entirely stripped from the trunk by these craving depredators. Under the impulses of this peculiar appetite, they sometimes tear even our bateau to pieces for the tar with which it is besmeared. If injured beyond the means of repair, we are compelled to pursue our journey down on foot. Perchance we may fortunately meet some Indian trapper with his frail canoe, which we charter for a portion of the journey, until another boat, or means of conveyance, can be secured. Were any of my readers ever on board the Indian's bark canoe? Some, doubtless, have been, and such will bear me out in the declaration that the voyager experiences emotions peculiarly agreeable. As a conveyance, it seems to occupy a space between riding and flying; not in respect to its speed, although this is considerable when the paddle is vigorously applied, but its fairy-like buoyancy quite dissipates the idea of one's gravity.

Having determined, during the exploration, upon the territory from which we wish to cut and haul our logs, we proceed to obtain permits from the state or proprietors, which secure the exclusive right to cut timber within the bounds of the grant for a stipulated price; so much per thousand feet, board-measure, which varies from one to eight dollars _per M._, according to the quality of the timber and its convenient location to the lake, river, or stream upon which it is to be floated to market. Among other preliminaries which anticipate the winter operations of lumbermen is the "putting up" of large quantities of meadow hay.

Skirting the stagnant sections of rivers and streams, extensive strips of meadow land spread back to the border of "uplands," whose outlines are distinctly defined by immense forests which hem in these large areas, sometimes embracing many thousands of acres. This intervale is covered with a heavy growth of meadow grass. By this remarkable arrangement, Nature has anticipated, as it would appear, the wants of lumbermen in locating, and in preserving from the encroachments of the forest, a plentiful supply of subsistence for the teams employed in procuring lumber in its immediate vicinity, and far from the haunts of civilized man.

To these wild and solemn retreats, where the dismal hooting of the night-owl breaks upon the ear, and the sighing winds, as they pass through the tall, waving grass, waft the distant howl of the wolf, large crews of men resort, with the usual haying implements, provisions, &c., for making and stacking the hay to be used during the ensuing winter.

In the latter part of autumn these meadows are covered with water, which finally freezes. It is therefore necessary to erect temporary scaffolds, called more generally "staddles," upon which the hay is to be piled in large stacks. These staddles are made of poles laid upon cross-stakes or crutches, sufficiently high to protect the hay from the water beneath. From these the hay is removed, sometimes in boats before the waters freeze, and afterward upon sleds on the ice. When the former method of transportation is adopted, two bateaus or skiffs are placed side by side, small poles being thrown across them; the hay is then loaded on this platform, and carried to the most convenient landing, where it is reloaded and hauled on ox-sleds to the camp. If the hay is removed upon the ice, the stacks are hauled away whole. The mode of loading is simple; the central part of the scaffolding is cut away, the sled shoved underneath, when the remaining props are cut away, and the whole stack settles on to the sled, and is thus moved off to the place of destination. This expeditious method of loading is particularly convenient and desirable, as may be imagined when one takes into consideration the biting winter winds which sweep across these wide meadow fields.

Since agricultural interests have invited men far into the interior in the vicinity of lumber berths, where large tracts of land have been cleared up, less value is attached to, and less use made of meadow hay than formerly, as English grass becomes more plenty, is more available, and is much better in its quality.

A distinguishing characteristic of this kind of business is the unceasing encounter by our lumbermen with the blood-thirsty millions of flies who swarm and triumph over these sanguinary fields. In the use of fire-arms these unvanquishable hosts are not skilled, to be sure, but in a charge they are invincible. No amount of slaughter will intimidate them. Though the sweeping hand of destruction annihilates them by thousands, still, with full ranks, the contest is carried on with unabated vigor, a respite only being afforded in rainy weather, or when high winds prevail; then they retire from the field.

At night the musquito lancers take up the action--the Indian tribes of the insect species--and all night they keep up their ceaseless war-whoop, as they repeat their sallies upon the weary, disturbed sleeper. No coat of mail is proof against the attacks of one species of fly commonly called the midget, which is so small as to be almost imperceptible to the naked eye. The black fly and the musquito can only reach the exposed parts of the body, but to the midget every portion is accessible. He insinuates himself under the collar, the wristband, and through the texture of the garments, and the whole region between the shirt and the skin is a field for his operations.

In one process of the haying operations, in particular, they are very annoying. The hay, when cut, is carried in small cocks upon two poles by two men to the scaffolding, for the purpose of being stacked. While thus employed, with both hands engaged, millions of these little invisibles insinuate themselves under the garments, and, whatever interest or ambition may fail to do, by way of producing energetic motion, the irritating smart of their bite abundantly makes up. _Nolens volens_, the men thus employed dance to the tune of "_Midget's meadow-hay jig_;" and when no longer able to resist the earnest invitation to rub and scratch, which their irritating bite holds out, down drop the poles, hay and all! Ah! let him who has experienced the irritation, and the relief of furious friction, _think_--I'm sure he may not pen it.

But, notwithstanding the labor and annoyances of meadow life, there are pastimes and adventures to be met with. A shot now and then at some stray deer who may chance to stroll upon the meadow to graze; the hooking of beautiful trout, pickerel, and other delicious pan-fish, afford agreeable relief from _ennui_; while the spoils of the forest and the brook afford most agreeable changes of diet. Here, also, very frequently are skirmishes had with the common black bear. If Bruin is not intentionally pugnacious, he is really meddlesome; nay, more, a downright trespasser--a regular thief--an out-and-out "no-government" animal, who, though neither profane nor yet immoral, still, without apostolical piety, would have "all things common." These peculiar traits of character secure to him the especial attention of mankind, and ever make him the object of attack. Though formidable as an enemy, it is hard to allow him to pass, even if he be civilly inclined, without direct assault. On one occasion, while two men were crossing a small lake in a skiff, on their return from the meadows, where they had been putting up hay, they discovered a bear swimming from a point of land for the opposite shore. As usual in such cases, temptation silenced prudential remonstrance; so, changing their course, they gave chase. The craft being light, they gained fast upon the bear, who exerted himself to the utmost to gain the shore. But, finding himself an unequal match in the race, he turned upon his pursuers and swam to meet them. One of the men, a short, thick-set, dare-devil sort of a fellow, seized an ax, and the moment the bear came up, inflicted a blow upon his head which seemed to make but a slight impression. Before a second could be repeated, the bear clambered into the boat; he instantly grappled the man who struck him, firmly setting his teeth in the man's thigh; then settling back upon his haunches, he raised his victim in the air, and shook him as a dog would a wood-chuck. The man at the helm stood for a moment in amazement, without knowing how to act, and fearing that the bear might spring overboard and drown his companion; but, recollecting the effect of a blow upon the end of a bear's snout, he struck him with a short setting-pole. The bear dropped his victim into the bottom of the boat, sallied and fell overboard, and swam again for the shore. The man bled freely from the bite, and as the wound proved too serious to allow a renewal of the encounter, they made for the shore. Medical aid was procured as soon as possible, and in the course of six weeks the man recovered from the effects of the bite. But one thing saved them from being upset; the water proved sufficiently shoal to admit of the bear's getting bottom, from which he sprang into the boat. Had the water been deep, the boat must inevitably have been upset, in which case the consequences might have been more serious.

It was on one of these haying occasions that a more startling but harmless encounter with the elements was experienced. One afternoon, about two o'clock, while several men were making their way up a small stream on a branch of the Penobscot, their attention was suddenly arrested by a sound which resembled distant thunder. Each moment the noise grew more distinct, accompanied with a tremulous motion of the earth. Still nearer and yet nearer it approached, with a rushing sound, intermingled with loud reports. Between our boatmen and the forest at the southwest spread an area of meadow land. Looking in this direction, a dense column, rising high in the heavens, was seen whirling in the distance, and approaching with incredible velocity. They barely effected a landing when it came upon them. In an instant their boat was hurled into the tops of the trees over their heads, while they were able to retain their position by holding on to the small undergrowth, and escaped unhurt. The hurricane, in its passage across the meadow, seemed to lose its force, so that by the time it reached the opposite side of the meadow its power was broken, and its career of destruction ended. In its passage it laid a strip of forest level some seventy rods wide and thirty miles long. No tree within this limit withstood its fury. The toughest and stateliest mingled in wildest confusion with blanched trunks, yielding sapling, and slender undergrowth.

At the proper time, which varies in different localities, but generally during the early part of fall, a more extensive outfit is made for another up-river expedition, for the purpose of erecting winter camps, clearing the main roads, and attending to such other preliminaries as may be deemed necessary.

Several years ago the whole distance from our homes to the interior was traveled by water, on which occasions heavy-laden boats were taken up these rivers and streams, and across the lakes, an operation which was both hazardous and laborious, particularly where the swift current of rapids was to be overcome, and when it became necessary to carry the boat and cargo around impassable falls--a frequent occurrence, the river in some places being nothing but one continuous succession of rapids for miles. In some places, to save the labor of "carrying by," attempts are made to shove the boats up fearful rapids, where a single mistake or false maneuver would swamp them. A lively little incident of this kind is quoted below, from Doctor Jackson's account of an excursion up the Penobscot on the business of a geological survey of the state.

"While we were engaged in exploring the rocks (at Grindstones Falls), our men tried to shove the boat up the falls, but the violence of the current prevented their effecting their object, the boat being instantly filled and sunk in the attempt, while all our baggage and provisions that remained on board were swept off and carried down the stream. A scene of unwonted activity now ensued in our endeavors to save our articles, as they were rapidly borne down the foaming waters. The boat, fortunately, was not much injured, and we succeeded in hauling it upon a rock, and bailed out the water, after which we gave chase to our lost articles, and succeeded in saving those that were most essential to our safety. The bread-barrel, although scuttled, was but half full of bread, and floated down stream with its opening uppermost, so that but little of it was injured. Our bucket of rice burst open and was lost. The tea-kettle and other cooking apparatus sank in the river, and were fished up by a hook and line. The tent was found about a mile down the river, stretched across a rock. The maps and charts were soaked with water, so that it required as much labor and patience to unroll them as the papyri of Herculaneum. Our spare boots and shoes were irrecoverably lost. Having rescued the most important articles from the water, we carried by the falls, camped, and dried our papers and provision, being thankful that no worse an accident had befallen us. Fortunately, we had taken the precaution to remove our surveying instruments and the blankets from the boat before the falls were attempted.

"Having kindled a camp-fire and dried ourselves, a storm of rain began to pour around us; but our great fire was not easily damped, and we passed a comfortable night beneath the shelter of a water-proof tent.

"The Penobscot boatmen are well skilled in the art of camping in a comfortable manner, and soon prepare their fire for the night, make a bed of boughs, and pitch the tent in such a manner as to afford a complete shelter. Having partaken of our meal, we reposed upon the boughs spread upon the earth, our feet being turned toward the fire. This being our first encampment for the season, the novelty of the scene prevented sleep; the night was very pleasant, and the broad moon, slowly descending in the west, added her effulgence to beautify the scene, her image being reflected by the rippling waters, while various contrasts of light and shade from the dense foliage, and the pale moonbeam and glaring red camp-fire, gave an effect full of beauty, and worthy the attention of an artist.

"Amid pleasant scenes, we are, however, subject to contrasts of a less agreeable kind; and here our Indian, while cutting wood, suffered a severe accident; his hatchet, accidentally slipping, was driven deeply into his leg between two bones, so as to expose the anterior tibial artery. I was then called upon in my surgical capacity, and, having my instruments with me, dressed his wound in the usual manner, and early next morning we took him to Maltanawcook Island, where we made arrangements with another Indian, Louis Neptune, to supply his place while he was recovering from his wound."

These difficulties of transportation have been somewhat abated by the construction of roads, which penetrate much nearer to lumber berths than formerly, and enable us to convey our provisions, implements, and even boats, with horse-teams, a considerable portion of the distance once laboriously performed by water. I am not familiar with any kind of labor which tests a man's physical abilities and powers of endurance more than boating supplies up river. The labor of carrying by falls, and portages from lake to lake, imposes a heavy tax upon the body. Barrels of pork, flour, and other provisions, too heavy for one man to carry alone, are slung to a pole by the aid of ropes, one man being at either end, and thus we clamber, under our heavy burdens, over rocks, the trunks of fallen trees, slippery roots, and through mud-sloughs, sometimes without any path, through the thickets and groves of trees. The boat is turned bottom upward, the gunwales resting upon the shoulders of three men, two abreast near the bows, and one at the stern. In this position we pass over the same route through which the provisions have been carried to the next landing, where the goods are again reshipped, and we proceed by water on lake or stream, with the alternate routine of paddling, poling, and lugging, until the place of destination is reached.

Persons wholly unacquainted with river navigation can have but an imperfect idea of the skill as well as nerve brought into requisition in taking a heavy-laden bateau, skiff, or canoe up over rapids. Let such a person stand upon the banks of the river, and survey some places over which these frail boats, loaded to the gunwale, pass, and he would not only regard the thing as exceedingly difficult and hazardous, but as altogether impossible; with the inexperienced it would, indeed, be both, but our skillful watermen will perform it with the greatest dexterity. Should any traveler chance to take an up-river trip with those boatmen, I am quite sure his observations would confirm my statement respecting them. I am happy to add here the testimony of Dr. Jackson, who had an opportunity to witness their skill: "Those who have never been on such a journey would be surprised at the dexterity of the Penobscot boatmen as they drive their frail bateau through the rapids and among dangerous rocks. The slightest failure on their part, on passing the numerous water-falls, would place the lives of those on board in imminent peril, and the traveler has good reason to be thankful if the boat by their care is saved from being overturned or sunk in the river.

"When the waters rush down a rapid slope of smooth and round rocks, forming what are called gravel-beds, the most strenuous exertions of the boatmen are required to stem the current, and not unfrequently their 'setting' poles are caught between the rocks, so as to be jerked from their grasp. Bateaux are navigated up stream by means of slender poles of spruce, about twelve or fifteen feet in length, armed with an iron point, confined by a ferule or iron band around its extremity. One boatman stands in the bow and braces his foot against the stern as he labors; the other stands in the stern, and they both pole on the same side as they proceed up the margin of the stream. Descending the river, they make use of paddles." However, the depth to which these frail boats are loaded, in which condition they pass through rough waters and wide lakes, where the wind is liable in a few minutes to raise high waves, can not be regarded as prudent, with all their matchless skill in navigating.

When I call to mind the intemperate habits to which most lumbermen in times past were addicted, I am surprised that no more accidents have occurred while navigating our rivers.

I shall not soon forget the perilous circumstances in which I was once placed, in company with others, while taking a deeply laden skiff up to the head waters of the St. Croix.

Having safely passed the rapids of the river, we embarked upon the Lake Che-pet-na-cook, up which we paddled about twenty miles to the portage, over which we had to carry our effects to Grand Lake, distant some two miles. By the time we had accomplished these moves the shadows of a September evening began to gather around us, giving a peculiar tint to the large sheet of water before us, which spread to the north some twenty-five miles, with an expanse east and west of about six miles, washing a portion of the shores of Maine on the west, and the province of New Brunswick on the east.

The point of destination lay about half way up the lake on the American side. Our boat was deeply laden with men and provisions; of the former there were seven in number. A light wind from the east caused a gentle ripple upon the surface of the waters, which induced us to hug the easterly shore pretty closely. We proceeded slowly, and when it became necessary to change our course in order to cross the lake, night had nearly settled down upon the waters, leaving only sufficient light to reveal the opposite shore, which stretched along the verge of the horizon, presenting the appearance of a long, dark cloud settling upon the borders of the lake.

We had plenty of new rum on board, which was used at stated intervals, as, according to the faith of nearly every man in those days, it gave to the arm more vigor in the necessary labor of plying the paddle. It soon became evident that one of our number had imbibed too freely, to the imminent hazard of our lives. The reader may easily imagine our perilous condition under such circumstances. Our frail skiff was about eighteen feet long, and four feet across the top of the gunwale amid-ships, tapering to a point at either end, constructed of thin slips of pine boards nailed to some half dozen pair of slender knees about two inches in diameter. On board were some fifteen hundred pounds of provisions, with seven men, which pressed her into the water nearly to the gunwale; three inches from the position of a level, and she would fill with water.

As men usually are quite insensible to danger when in liquor, so was it with "_Dan_" in this instance. Too comfortable in his feelings to keep still, as indeed was indispensable to the most steady among us, he kept constantly lurching about, and periling us with a capsizing repeatedly. He was admonished in the most pressing and peremptory manner to keep quiet; but in his drunken idiocy he became a terror, and it was manifest that something must be done to insure our safety.

Our paddles hung powerless over the sides of the frail thing which buoyed us upon the surface of the deep water; to advance seemed too uncertain and dreadful, while the darkness rested down deeper upon the lake. A hasty consultation was held upon the propriety of putting back to the shore, when the drunken wretch gave a sudden lurch, which settled the gunwale under water! "My God! we are gone!" shouted some half dozen voices at the instant. However, by a counter-motion we raised the submerged gunwale from sinking further. In an instant our helmsman was upon his feet, and, raising his paddle in a most menacing attitude over the head of the intoxicated man, "D--n you!" said he, "if you move again I'll split your skull open!" The threat was terrible, and he would have cleft his head open in an instant. I expected he would strike, for our lives depended upon quieting him in some way; but the fellow seemed to awake to our perilous condition, and slunk down into the bottom of the boat. We put about instantly for the shore, and in a few moments touched the beach. With a willing step I placed my feet on terra firma once more.

It was then determined that part of the crew should remain, while the others should cross the lake, unload the provisions, and return for those left behind. Four men were accordingly left, and I was glad to make one of the number, though left upon a wild and unfrequented spot, without food or shelter, with the prospect of spending the greater portion of the night there, even should the rest of the crew make a successful trip; and, in the event of their being swamped, a thing by no means impossible, for sometimes the wind suddenly rises, and in a very short time lashes the lake into foaming waves, in which case the skiff could not live, then the circuit of the lake must be performed, and days must elapse before relief could be obtained; but still, with these certainties and probable contingencies before us, we were glad to feel mother earth under the soles of our feet. By the time these matters had been fixed, the darkness had shut out the western shore entirely from view; our comrades, therefore, only shaped their course by the fire which we had kindled upon the shore, and which we kept burning by a constant supply of brush and the most inflammable wood that could be procured.

Not having had much experience in the wilderness at this time, and never under such peculiar circumstances, I felt somewhat timid and apprehensive, as we were far from relief and the abodes of civilization, and in a region where bears, wolves, and a dangerous specimen of the feline species, known by woodsmen as the "Indian devil," had prowled from time immemorial. From the manner in which my exiled companions piled the brush on the fire, I suspected, also, that they had some confidence in its protective power. The night was cold, but by our exertions to keep up a brilliant fire, and copious draughts of black pepper tea, which we made in a little kettle, we kept quite comfortable. This process lasted until two o'clock in the morning, when the boat returned for us, having twice crossed the lake, in all twelve miles. We stepped on board, and at four o'clock her third trip across during the night was finished. One half mile from the shore, surrounded by an almost unbroken wilderness, stood a log cabin, tenanted by a man with his family, who had settled down for the purpose of clearing up a farm. At the time we landed the sky was overcast with dense clouds, and the darkness was so intense that I could not see an inch before my nose; I felt the force of that trite old proverb, "It's always darkest just before day." To the above-named cabin we were piloted through a dense forest, which was interlaced with a thick growth of underbrush. We made our way along as entirely unassisted by vision as though there were no such thing. By the aid of a constant hallooing, which was kept up at the log cabin, we made a direct course; and, after an untold number of stumbles over old wind-falls, and jibes from the limbs, knots, and protruding boughs of trees, we reached the object of our solicitude hungry and much fatigued. Here, however, the hospitable inmates had anticipated our wants; a good meal of bread, baked beans, and pork, with coffee, was in waiting; and after heartily participating of the same, we threw ourselves upon a coarse bed, and were soon lost in a profound and undisturbed sleep. When we awoke the shades of night had entirely disappeared, the sun shone beautifully, and our ears were saluted with the wild notes of a thousand feathered songsters, whose sweet warblings lent a peculiar enchantment to the woodland scenery which skirted the shores of the lake, so strikingly in contrast with our dismal introduction the night previous, that we almost fancied ourselves awaking up in some fairy land.