48 THE ADIRONDACK. 



fare. Dinner being over, B n, a six-footer, one of 



the finest specimens of a farmer and gentleman you 

 will meet in many a day, has lighted his pipe, and is 

 sitting on the ground with his back against a log, 

 deep in the columns of the Courier and Enquirer 

 which I received the day before we started. Young 



A- Id, a quiet little fellow, about eighteen years 



old, is stretched full length on the log trying to get a 



nap. Young S th, tough, vigorous, and full of 



blood and spirits, as these old woods are of musqui- 

 toes, whose hearty laugh rings out every five minutes, 

 as well at misfortunes as at a joke, is smoking his 



cigar over the Albany Argus. P , one of the 



most careless of mortals, who is just as likely to run 

 his head against a tree as one side of it — who, in all 

 human probability, will have his heel on your pork 

 before it is half toasted, or his pantaloon-strap in 

 your tea before it is half cooled, is backed up 

 against a tree, with his legs across a dead limb, 

 running over the columns of the Express. He is 

 one of your poetic creatures ; half the time in a 

 dream, and the other half indulging in drollery 

 that keeps the company in a roar. He was never 

 in the woods before, and the shadow of the mighty 



