Ig jock's lake. 



broadcloth and had not heen surmounted by a shockmg 



bad felt hat that sloped every way like a wigwam. . 



Calling the roll, there was Ed. Benson, an old woods- 

 man, and myself, a, neophyte, from the same city; 

 Loomis, the Professor, from a neighboring academy, a 

 histy man of learning, a very Kit North for tish and 

 frolic; Johnson, a hardware merchant from Washington, 

 a good smoker and story-teller, who had won ren.)wn and 

 ducats, sailing the seas, and now sought the forest for the 

 first time ; and Thompson, our chief, of the Treasury Depart- 

 ment at Washington, a bachelor who loved the woods 

 better than most men love their children. Horace, one of 

 oui' guides, was already in the office of the hotel, a little 

 wiry fellow, silent, shy and tatterdemalion, but destined to 

 blossom and unfold as we approached the familiar woods 

 and streams, and to prove himself indeed "guide, philoso- 

 pher and friend. " 



Two strong wagons were speedily loaded with ourselves 

 and luggage,"and we drove ofP in the gray morning in high 

 glee over the hills Northward. If tlie " Sage of Deerfiehl,'- 

 in uneasy morning slumbers, fancied he heard " the rebel 

 yell," so soon after destined to play the dickens with many 

 a Joldier lad's dreams of home, doubtless it was the 

 matutinal patriotism breaking out in song and shout of 

 tliose wagon loads of early travellers in old clothes, as yet 

 unfed and therefore unmindful of tlie strict code of decor- 

 ousness and gentlemanly quietude. But he would have 

 forgiven us,-for he too is a loyal lover of the woods and 

 streams. 



