The Woods. 151 



old Pete Meigs about tlie bear, whose rump lie painted 

 with bis boots, in the boiler log." 



Our course kept us but a few rods from tbe shore, 

 and we could look into the little bays and inlets as 

 we passed along. There are many lovely spots along 

 the coast of the Upper Saranac, which, had we not 

 seen many others in our forest route as lovely, would 

 have claimed a more careful survey. The beauty of 

 the scenery around these lakes, to be appreciated, must 

 be seen. More than that, it must be seen by those 

 who have a taste for the woods — who love to be 

 sometimes alone, beyond the hum of the thousand 

 voices, that are heard in the thoroughfares of life — • 

 the tramp, tramp of moving thousands — to be awav. 

 among nature's unshorn, as well as unadorned loveli- 

 ness ; to hear her, unawed by the sights and sounds 

 of civilization, talking (as my guide termed it) to 

 herself. They must be men of patience and some 

 nerve, who are, for the sake of the pleasure, willing 

 to submit to some privation, to encounter some weari- 

 ness, and much discomfort. The student, whose frame 

 is enervated, by the corrupted and heated atmosphere 

 of a city, and the debilitating influences of his vocation, 

 will find himself growing stronger, his frame more 



