NEW YORK, THURSDAY, JAN. 21, 1875. 



Chatham St. iCltyHall Sqr.) 



From the llarrist/ttiy Telegraph. 

 A FAVORITE DOG— DYING. 



CCPAHEWELL! Farewell! but this I tell 



" To thee, thou wedding guest, 

 He pruyeth well who lovcth well 

 Botti man, and bird and beast. 



"He prayeth best who loveth beat 

 All things, both (meat and small; , 



For the dear God that loveth us, 

 He made and level n all.— Ancient Marintr. 



Natheless lomy simple seeming 

 Thou hast Unman fondness beaming 

 la thy face. 



Father, mother, childand servant 



Sorrowfully stand observant 



Of thy pain; 

 Pitifully strtve to heal it 

 (Almost as thvseir they feet It), 



Bntin vain. 



Hcav'n above us and above thee; 



Does the Ood who loves us love thee? 



Who can say? 

 Close beside us thou dost follow; 

 Can such sympathy be hollow f 



Surely nay. 



Can the lawbesi 



To deny all chance of Heaven 



To thy kind? 

 We had rather much receive it, 

 Than to coldly disbelieve it- 



Thou hast mind. 



Can great nature's God unjust hef 

 Heaven for both there is— there must be 



Boom for thee 

 In the fair celestial region; 

 This at last is my religion; 



Come with me. 



For Forest and h'tream. 



W in $ HM* 5 ot l ti( e <UnQi\^wnn 



AT THE BEAVER DAM. — NUMBER THREE. 



' ' T~\ID you ever see any beaver in any of your trips, 

 \-J Frank?" inquired Ned of me one morning after 

 breakfast. "I don't mean dead ones, but a regular nest, of 

 'em (Hat never were meddled with by traps." 



"No, but I have often heard of their curious habits and 

 homes," answered I. "There are not many found in the 

 States East of Colorado now, I believe; it must be a 

 queer sight !" 



"I don't see a great deal of difference between them and 

 the muskrats you see so many of at nights," rejoined he. 

 "They're bigger, of course, and pay me better, for their 

 fur's worth twenty times that of a 'rat, but they live like 

 each other nearly,and look the same a little ways off in the 

 water." 



"Do you trap many up here?" asked I, for Ned's stories 

 possessed an air of realnem that was very interesting, and I 

 enjoyed drawing him out. 



"Y-as," said be, slowly, as if about to commit himself on 

 the subject. "I get some every year, but I know just 

 -where to go,and sort of raises my crop from Spring to Fall, 

 and that saves trouble in gatherin' of it," chuckling to him- 

 self; then turning to me, he continued: "If you like, and 

 will keep quiet about it down in the settlements as you go 

 out, I'll show you some beaver to-day, and maybe give you 

 a chance at some deers; _its a. grand place for , 'em up 

 there." 



"Up where?" demanded I. "I want to see beavers bad 

 enough, but don't care about a ten-mile tramp until to-mor- 

 row, for I suppose we'll have to travel through brush and 

 over rocks, as usual, when we leave the beat. How far is 

 it?" 



"Now, I expected you'd think it] was a long ways off , " 



answered Ned, getting on his feet. "You remember the 

 spring where we drank after chasing the fawn yesterday; 

 he!— he!— (chuckling again)— it makes me laugh to think, of 

 that fun, how the little thing did jump. Well, there's a 

 path comes out there that runs back, I guess, near to Nip- 

 issing; we'll follow that up and strike the meadow in half 

 an hour, and I'll warrant you'll be glad you went. It lies 

 about three quarters of a mile from Shesheep thataway," 

 pointing northwest. 



"Only an hour's time, you think, from camp? Well, 

 suppose we keep quiet until after dinner and go then," said 

 I. "That'll be time enough, won't it?" 



"Plenty, plenty," rejoined he. "You won't want to stay 

 more than an hour, but it's as pretty a spot as I know of 

 hereabouts, so we must.allow for your wanting to look it all 

 over." 



The morning slipped away in idleness, and when dinner 

 was over Ned laid the birch in the water, and putting in 

 the axe, called to me to come. 



Heading our boat up and across the lake we soon reached 

 the spring, and then lifting the canoe out, laying it bottom 

 up on the bank, we took our guns and prepared for our 

 walk through what I afterward found to be the densest 

 growth of brush I ever saw. Ned started in first, and be- 

 ing delayed by tying the string of my moccasin, he was 

 hid from sight, Before I could follow back he came, how- 

 ever, before I was ready, and pitching the axe on the 

 ground near me, blurted out; — 



"Dang the thing in the brush, anyhow! "I'll leave it 

 with the boat, I guess, after all." 



"What's the trouble now," asked I. "You'll want it to 

 cut up that deer I'm going to kill, and it won't do to be 

 without the axe." 



"Well, I shan't lug it along," rejoined he smartly, "I 

 slipped up just now in there and near sat down right on 

 the edge; I guess we shan't want it after all, and its un- 

 handy with my gun to carry through such a thicket; if 

 you're ready, suppose we go?" 



"Heave ahead, then," said I, laughing, "and look out for 

 my eyes with the branches." 



Plunging into the thick undergrowth that skirted the 

 shore I followed behind in his search for the old path — 

 what do I say! Path! There was no path ! About every 

 ten rods, if you looked sharp, you might have seen an old 

 blaze on a tree on cither hand, or else a small one cut off 

 entirely, forming a stake, but the cuts were made so long 

 ago that the moss nearly covered them, or they had be- 

 come black with age and discolored sap. Old windfalls 

 without leaves, and new ones with thick branches and 

 foliage lay across the path; large rocks stood in the middle 

 of it, and old broken stumps around it. Looking ahead you 

 could not trace its direction, while the soil underfoot was 

 unbroken, save by the occasional track of some animal. 

 Twice we were bewildered completely, and then I would sit 

 down and let Ned skirmish around to find the sign, start- 

 ing again at his call, from some unexpected quarter, for 

 me to follow. We were fully one hour getting over that 

 three quarter mile, and I was beginning to consider the 

 whole thing a delusion, when Ned, who was in advance, 

 suddenly made a frantic grab at some bushes with his un- 

 employed hand and simultaneously slid into a small muddy 

 hole concealed by dead leaves and moss. 



"Now," growled he, drawins his leg out of mud nearly 

 to the knee, "I've found it at last, I reckon. I thought it 

 wasn't far away; see there," pointing off in the brush. 

 "Them pools arc made by the outlet of the dam, and it 

 'aint more than thirty rods off. I'm all right now, but look 

 out you don't slide in when you come over;" so saying, he 

 scraped off the mud and picked bis way across, followed 

 by me. 



A few minute3 struggle with the branches and I could 

 see an opening in the leaves ahead, and knew we were near 

 the meadow. 



"Whist!" said Ned, in an undertone, as I stopped near 

 him. "If we go still we may see some beavers on the dam 

 and mabbe a deer in the grass ; look out for the small sticks, 

 and if you shoot, remember me ahead." 



Creeping cautiously along we were soon at the edge of 

 the opening, and what a picture it was ! Right, before me 

 was erected such a perfect dam across the small sluggish 

 stream that I mechanically looked for the homes of the 

 men who had built it, but saw nothing except the tall green 

 grass of the meadow, through which the stream crept, on 

 its way to the lake we had left coining from the one whose 

 blue water I could catch glimpses of nearly half a mile 

 away. At the lower end of the opening, where we were 

 crouching, the beavers had erected the dam, twenty feet or 

 more in width. The stream thus interrupted flowed back, 

 forming a pool, as near as I could judge, about forty' feet 

 long, and at the deepest not over four feet. It was clear of 

 all grass, except at the upper aud shallower end, where the 

 current came in, which was so slow as to cause no per- 

 ceptible motion; the only noise was the dropping of the 

 overflowing water below the dam, which formed the suc- 

 cession of pools into one of which Ned had put his foot 

 when coming up. I looked everywhere for the animals 

 themselves, but could see, to my regret, neither any beaver, 

 or what surprised me more, any houses. Fresh green stalks 

 were floating, showing recent work on their part, and I 

 noticed discoloration In the water, but no life. Disap- 

 pointed, 1 turned to Ned for an explanation, and saw him 

 scanning the upper weedy part aud the bed of the little 

 stream; in a moment he "bobbed" down, and with tbe 

 motion, I saw a disturbance in the grass at that end, and 

 was gratified to see an animal resembling an overgrown 

 muskrat, in all that I could observe, sink into the water and 

 swim directly towards us, sliowiug only his head, but.leav- 

 ing a "wake" behind from his flat "rudder." Just as I was 

 certain of a good square sight at him, without any seeming 

 alarm from us — for I, for one, was verily holding my breatli 

 —he sank like a stone, so silently that he seemed to melt 

 from our sight. Expecting his re-appearance every second, 

 I never moved, when, to my horror, Ned arose from his 

 stooping position and deliberately commenced to cross on 

 the dam. 



"Hold ou," called I, "We'll scare them all if we show 

 out, so let's wait a little." 



"No use now," answered he: "There 'aint many around, 

 and you'll only waste time. I want to show you the dam 

 and then go ou to the lake beyond; see there!" pointing 

 downward, " 'aint that curious work to do with teeth and 

 tails; see how they've cut down trees from each side for a 

 brace and then dragged the smaller ones over. I've built 

 many a corner for it cabin myself, but never see logs lay 

 better than them. The limbs are gnawed off clost, and 

 see how the water has sucked the trash and mud between 

 the chinks. They're about as cute things as ever I see; there 

 you can see how its been shipped down and dried, and how 

 little water leaks out. I should like to see them at work 

 some time." 



"What became of that fellow that went down just now?" 

 asked I. "I don't see any houses or place for him to hide, 

 and he's been under now over five minutes." 



"He's safe enough somewhere," replied Ned. "They 

 stay under like a frog, but he's heard us, I guess, and swum 

 back up among the weeds, or in some place under the 

 dam; its curious how they stand it, but tliey breathe some- 

 how. 1 heard 'Lame Joe' down in Maquabee's camp tell 

 how he saw a moose stay under once long enough, he said, 

 to drown him; he waited until he came out and then lost 

 him, but I think he was lying, for be said, 'near hour,' and 

 I guess 'twant twenty minutes, after all." 



"Moose here?" exclaimed I; "that's news to me !" 



'"Twant near here," replied he; "there's no moose short 

 of the Nipissing line; Joe's tribe come from up there." 



"How long bas this colony been in here?" inquired I. 

 "I don't see any houses." 



"They'll be up before Fall," answered Ned. "I was 

 traveling through here near May, I think, or last of April, 

 and I see the dam was just begun, so I kept quiet, and mean 

 to get all the fur myself next year if John don't find it, 

 but he won't leave his canoe unless he has to, so I'm safe 

 enough, I guess, I know of some more down near Omie 

 that's a bigger family ban tnis," 



