266 The Americatt Angler. 



a camp. We rowed the girls across the for home, and reached there in a reason- 

 lake, and there the wagon met them able time, after having spent one of 

 and drove them back to Cornwall. the best kind of times for a week. 

 This was the first break we had. Fri- "Little Billie's " sisters having to go 

 day afternoon we varied the sport by on Thursday, he went home by himself, 

 having a little combat in the water "Dec," having no relative, looked 

 between " Dec " and " Dick." As yet, around for some other fellow's sister to 

 it has not been decided who won. The go with him, but finally took shelter 

 next morning was spent in " knocking " under "Pudge's" motherly wings. 

 tents and packing up to go home. As " Dick " took his sisters, Eva and 

 we had lost three of the girls on Mable, home all sun-burnt and tired. 

 Thursday, it made just so much more The whole party looked better and felt 

 work for the rest. We had our last better for their outing, and are already 

 dinner, and got rid of all the provisions talking about another trip next June, 

 that were left. We started by wagon 



AT COTTAM'S MILL. 



BY J. T. HOPKINS. 



There is a road through Kempff, 

 A lonely by-way, seldom sought. 

 One which the fathers toiled to make ; 

 For good or bad not changed a whit 

 Since, long ago, they trod it last. 

 So rough it is, and tortuous. 

 That scarce a vehicle may move 

 Along its jagged, rocky course, 

 And stand the trying strain. 



If on the map one looks — 

 Will scan it over, thoroughly, 

 In seeking out that village, old — 

 No end of dots for towns he'll find. 

 But never inky speck for Kempff. 

 Men tell that he the tracing made — 

 The skillful, deft topographer — 

 Found life too short to note the spot 

 Before he aged had died. 



But that's not here nor there ; 

 For Kempff is but the turning point 

 Where forks the wild, laborious trail 

 That brings anon to Cottam's mill 

 On Clearing Creek. A sinuous stream 

 That leaves the feet of craggy cliffs, 

 And flows from shadowy pool to pool — 

 Deep down between the widened shoals 

 Whose fissured beds are stone. 



