HEART OF THE SOUTHERN CATSKILLS 59 



easy reach. Near the camp was an unusually 

 large spring, of icy coldness, which served as 

 our refrigerator. Trout or milk immersed in 

 this spring in a tin pail would keep sweet 

 four or live days. One night some creature, 

 probably a lynx or a raccoon, came and lifted 

 the stone from the pail that held the trout and 

 took out a fine string of them and ate them up 

 on the spot, leaving only the string and one 

 head. In August bears come down to an 

 ancient and now brushy bark peeling near by 

 for blackberries. But the creature that most 

 infests these backwoods is the porcupine. He 

 is as stupid and indifferent as the skunk; his 

 broad, blunt nose points a witless head. They 

 are great gnawers, and will gnaw your house 

 down if you do not look out. Of a summer 

 evening they will walk coolly into your open 

 door if not prevented. The most annoying 

 animal to the camper-out in this region, and 

 the one he needs to be most on the lookout for, 

 is the cow. Backwoods cows and young cattle 

 seem always to be famished for salt, and they 

 will fairly lick the fisherman's clothes off his 

 back, and his tent and equipage out of exist- 

 ence, if you give them a chance. On one occa- 

 sion some wood-ranging heifers and steers that 

 had been hovering around our camp for some 

 days made a raid upon it when we were absent. 

 The tent was shut and everything snugged 

 up, but they ran their long tongues under the 

 tent, and, tasting something savory, hooked 

 out John Stuart Mill's "Essays on Keligion," 



