A TRAMP IN THE CATSKILLS 



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 southern Catskills. On this ex- 

 cursion, 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 uncer- 

 tain and the mountains high. 



We left our team at a farmhouse near the head of 

 the Mill Brook, one June afternoon, and with knap- 

 sacks on our shoulders struck into the woods at the 

 base of the mountain, hoping to cross the range that 

 intervened between us and the lake by sunset. We 

 engaged a good-natured but rather indolent young 

 man, who happened to be stopping at the house, and 

 who had carried a knapsack in the Union armies, to 

 pilot us a couple of miles into the woods so as to guard 

 against any mistakes at the outset. It seemed the easi- 

 est thing in the world to find the lake. The lay of the 

 land was so simple, according to accounts, that I felt 

 sure I could go to it in the dark. " Go up this little 

 brook to its source on the side of the mountain," they 

 said. "The valley that contains the lake heads di- 

 rectly on the other side." What could be easier! But 

 on a little further inquiry, they said we should " bear 

 well to the left " when we reached the top of the moun- 

 tain. This opened the doors again; "bearing well to 

 the left" was an uncertain performance in strange 



