FOREST FIRES in 



Penobscot, was enraptured with the varied scenery of 

 the first part of the journey. Big, genial Joe Smith, the 

 proprietor of the Halfway House, met us with a hearty 

 welcome, and gave us a notable dinner. At this mod- 

 est, unassuming log-and-frame house the meals are al- 

 ways away above par, the butter always sweet, the 

 eggs always fresh and the roast chickens always ten- 

 der. We, of course, feasted on game this day, and af- 

 ter an hour's rest we proceeded upon our journey. 



The water was extremely low from the long-continued 

 drought. The canoes, therefore, had to find their way 

 through all sorts of tiny channels, scraping over some 

 rocks and dodging others, and little speed was made 

 anywhere. We saw no game whatever on the down 

 trip, unless a few black ducks, some red squirrels, and a 

 host of muskrats would be considered game. 



We entered Chesuncook Lake at four o'clock, and in 

 a few minutes we grounded on the shore in front of 

 " Anse " Smith's historical hostelry. " Anse " Smith 

 kept this old house in 185T, and here is where Thoreau 

 stopped for a while on his trip to the Maine woods in 

 that year. 



It is related that once during a dark night, when the 

 rain was pouring down in streaks and the thunder and 

 lightning were something fearful to hear and to behold, 

 a man and his guide stopped at this house and asked for 

 shelter for the night. The sportsman was told that the 

 house was packed full and there was not a room to spare. 



