LITTLE TUPPER'S. 387 



three miles above Big Tupper's, we drew our boats 

 from Bog River, and shouldering them, started for Little 

 Tupper's. This was the longest carrying-place I had 

 ever yet been on, and the path in some places being 

 very rough, we made slow progress. When a little 

 more than half way across, we stood our boats up 

 against the trees to be ready for shouldering again, 

 and prepared our dinner. Charlie made a kettle-full 

 of strong tea, black as your hat, which was served to 

 us in tin basins black as the tea. These backwoods- 

 men, when on a hard tramp, do not want liquor but 

 tea, and one who has not tried it when completely 

 fagged out in the woods, has not the faintest concep- 

 tion of its invigorating properties. I took three brim- 

 ming pint-basins full, strong enough, as the old women 

 say, " to bear up an egg." At home it would have 

 completely upset me, but here, on the contrary, it set 

 me up, so that when we were ready to start, I was 

 fresh as ever. At length we struck this beautiful sheet 

 of water, and, launching our boats, swept lazily for- 

 ward towards the upper end. It was a lovely after-* 

 noon. A gentle breeze, redolent with the perfume of 

 the woods, just rippled the bosom of the lake; the 

 creen encircling forest stood bathed in the yellow 



