CHAPTER VII. 



One Jiil)^ afternoon in 187 — , and subsequent to the 

 events of the hist chapter, the Editor and I, after a long 

 journe}' by rail, found ourselves at the Ferguson House in 

 the thriving town of Malone, Franklin County, N. Y. 

 Our faces were turned towards the Northern Wilderness. 



Passing many gateways to the land of promise, we 

 sought this as an entrance to a region of peculiar delights, 

 and one remarkably full of benefits to the tired seeker of a 

 vacation. We were to climb up, southerly, out of the 

 Valley of the St. Lawrence, into mountains and forests 

 where the lakes were cold, the air invigorating and brac- 

 ing even in the period of summer heat, — the spruces and 

 balsams taking kindly to both the latitude and the alti- 

 tude. 



Twenty -five miles to the south and well into the woods, 

 lay Meacham Lake, where a comfortable forest hostelry was 

 maintained b}^ A. R. Fuller. This was our first objective 

 point. 



In an hour we had dined, our liver}' was at the door, our 

 luggage packed, and with two gentlemen from New York, 

 of like destination, we were in our seats, and awaj' with a 

 dash. 



We were granted a perfect da}', a good span of horses, 

 an easy-riding wagon, an intelligent driver, and for many 



