BIRCH BROWSINGS. 211 



1 860 a friend and myself traced the Beaver 

 Kill to its source, and encamped by Balsam 

 Lake. A cold, protracted rain storm com- 

 ing on, we were obliged to leave the woods 

 before we were ready. Neither of us will 

 soon forget that tramp by an unknown route 

 over the mountains, encumbered as we were 

 with a hundred and one superfluities which 

 we had foolishly brought along to solace our- 

 selves with in the woods ; nor that halt on 

 the summit, where we cooked and ate our 

 fish in a drizzling rain ; nor, again, that rude 

 log-house, with its sweet hospitality, which 

 we reached just at nightiall on Mill Brook. 



In 1868 a party of three of us set out for 

 a brief trouting excursion, to a body of water 

 called Thomas's Lake, situated in the same 

 chain of mountains. On this excursion, 

 more particularly than on any other I have 

 ever undertaken, I was taught how poor an 

 Indian I should make, and what a ridiculous 

 figure a party of men may cut in the woods 

 when the way is uncertain and the moun- 

 tains high. 



We left our team at a farm-house near 

 the head of the Mill Brook, one June after- 

 noon, and with knapsacks on our shoulders 

 struck into the woods at the base of the 



