330 Hills and Lakes. 



Honor to all such men as P C , I say-— let 



the world judge them as it may. 



We left Franklin Falls the next mornin«: for the 

 valley of the Au Sable, ^■^arriving at the Forks, 

 my "tramp in the Chat^Ji^ woods" was over. I 

 had left the "hills and lakes" far behind me, the latter 

 sleeping as I found them, in the quietude of the for- 

 ests and among old primeval things. " Au Sable 

 Forks" is twelve miles above Keeseville. It is a little 

 manufacturing town. When I say little, I mean only 

 in respect to the number of houses, for the amount of 

 business done in the shape of iron making, is greatly 

 disproportionate to the outward seeming of the place. 

 There is here one of the largest establishments for the 

 manufacturing of iron and nails on the river. A sin- 

 gle firm make some twelve handred kegs of nails 

 weekly, and in all the departments of their business, 

 employ between five and six hundred men. The 

 great hammers are pounding away continually — some 

 forty nail-making machines are clanking— the great 

 waterwheels are going on their ceaseless rounds— the 

 big bellows are puffing — the forges and furnaces are 

 blazing — and the great rollers are turning out their 

 fiery serpents always, save from twelve o'clock Satur- 



