244 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



THE UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY. 



Could we but know 

 The land that ends our dark, uncertain travel, 



Where lies those happier hills and meadows low. 

 Ah, if beyond the spirit's inmost cavil, 

 Aught of that country could we surely know, 

 Who would not go ! 



Might we but hear 

 The hovering angels' high imagined chorus, 



Or catch, betimes with wakeful eyes and clear, 

 One radiant vista of the realm before us — 

 With one rapt moment given to see and hear, 

 Ah, who would fear ! 



Were we quite sure 

 To find the peerless friend who left us lonely, 



Or there, by some celestial stream as pure, 

 To gaze in eyes that here were lovelit only,— 

 This weary mortal coil, w r ere we quite sure. 

 Who would endure. ! 



E. 0. Stetoian. 



-M^ — 



DYSPEPSIA. 



AH me! what mischiefs from the stomach rise! 

 What fatal ills, beyond all doubt or question ! 

 How many a deed of high and bold emprise 

 Hath been prevented by a bad digestion !^ 

 I ween the savory crust of filthy pies 



Hath made many a man to quake and tremble. 

 Filling his belly with dyspeptic sighs, 



Until a huge balloon it doth resemble. 

 Thus do our lower parts impede the upper, 

 • And much the brain's good works molest and hinder 

 We gorge oar cerebellum with hot supper, 



And burn, with drams, our viscera to a cinder, 1 ] 

 Choosing our arrows from Disease's quiver. 

 Till man in misery lives to loathe his liver. 



-**♦- 



For Forest and Stream. 

 A Pastokat, Paradox. 

 Oh! why doth the Granger grimly groan, 

 And wherefore the mower he scythe ? 

 Ah! well may he sigh, for his (s)teers arc dry. 

 And for water he vainly crieth. 



J. J. P. 



THE ADIRONDACK PARK. 



, « 



Editor Fo"rest and Stream:— 



Your agitation of the question, "Shall a portion, at least, 

 of the Aciirondacks be made a perpetual preserve," is timely 

 and strong. Keep it up. Your theories are correct and 

 your facts incontestable. Mr. Headley disputes the posi- 

 tion. He asserts that there is no less water in the Hudson 

 River to-day than when the Indian paddled his canoe in it, 

 a hundred years ago. How does Mr. Headley know? 

 "What proof does he give? The case needs something more 

 and better than his naked assertion. If an exception ex- 

 ists in the case of the Hudson, then nature must have some 

 very singular— possibly pardonable— American favoritism. 



This is a question with which fact has more to do than 

 theory. We are first to know if it be a fact that the cutting 

 away of forests diminishes the amount of water in springs 

 and water courses. 



This fact, if established, ought to determine Legislative 

 action this winter in favor of preserving the Adirondack 

 forests. After that, it may be well enough to attend to the 



theory. 



Having devoted some attention to the points here involved, 

 let me indicate a few facts which will be admitted to bear 

 upon the question: 



A scientific gentleman who has lately traveled extensively 

 in Syria learned from the Savans of that country that with- 

 in the last twenty-five years there has been a great increase 

 of tree-growth upon the mountains. Keeping pace with 

 this has also been a marked increase of humidity in the at- 

 mosphere, occasional showers and a restoration of some 

 springs, which have long been dry. Observing a cloud 

 wreathing around one of the mountain summits he called 

 the attention of a scholarly Englishman to the phenomenon, 

 who remarked: "Twenty-five years ago such a sight as 

 that was never seen here." 



The historian Strabo says that the country of Babylonia 

 used to be in great danger of inundation. To prevent it, 

 required constant precaution and labor. The menace was 

 from the river Euphrates, which became swollen in spring- 

 by snows melting on the mountains of Armenia. Not so 



now. 



M. Oppert, a French traveler through Babylonia, recently 

 reports that the volume of water in the Euphrates is much 

 less- that there are now no inundations; that canals are 

 dry- that the marshes are exhausted by the great heat of 

 summer, and that the country is no longer unhealthy by 

 the miasma from morasses. 



He affirms that this retreat of the waters can be account- 

 ed for only by the clearing away of the mountains— forests 



of Armenia. ,■•„,„ 



Now as the Hudson River never does such damage by 

 either flood or fen, no such reason for denuding the Ad- 

 irondacks can be pressed. 



Long ago, that well-known traveler and geographer, Da 

 Saussure,°proved that the diminished volume of water in 

 the Swiss Lakes, especially Lakes Morat, Neuichatel and 

 Bienne was due to the foray upon the surrounding forests. 

 In the time of Pliny, the river Scamander was navigable. 

 Its bed is now entirely dry. Choiseul Gouffier was not 

 able to find it at all in the Troad. The significant fact to 

 read with this, is that all the cedars which covered Mount 

 Ida, whence it rose, as well as the Sknois, have been 



destroyed. • . • - * 



Is this coincidence merely, or effect and cause? 



Oviedo, the historian of Venezuela in the 16th Century, 

 says that the city of Nueva Valencia was founded in 1555 

 at the distance of half a league, (14 miles), from the Lake of 

 Tacarigua, In the year 1800 Humboldt found that the 

 city was distant 3+ miles from the lake, and asserts that the 

 retreat of the waters has been due entirely to the destruc- 

 tion of the numerous forests. This authority, it might be 

 rather audacious in Mr. Headley to dispute, 



To the same cause Mr. Boussingault directly traces the 

 diminution of waters in New Granada. Sixty years ago 

 two lakes, near which the village of Dubate is situated, 

 were united. The waters have gradually subsided, so 

 that lands which only thirty years ago were under water, 

 are now under culture. 



In the Island of Ascension, |a fine water-source discovered 

 by Richemont at the foot of a mountain became dry as the 

 neighboring heights were cleared of forest trees, but has 

 been fully restored since the forests have been allowed to 

 grow. 



From these and many other facts which might be stated, 

 it is not only fair but inevitable to conclude that extensive 

 clearings anywJiere do diminish the quantity of spring or flow- 

 ing water in a country. 



It is not claimed that the removal of forests does ahwys 

 produce a diminished rainfall. 



Indeed the pluviometer shows that in some instances the 

 rain fall has increased — as in the experiment at Marmato, 

 Bolivia. 



But it is claimed, and susceptible of the most abundant 

 proof, that extensive destruction of forests does diminish, 

 and occasion the disappearance of sources, and will in time 

 reduce the bulk of even so vast a river as the Hudson so 

 much as seriously to impair navigation upon its upper 

 waters. Does any one say that the incursions of lumber- 

 men upon the great North Woods are not extensive? 



There is one saw mill in the John Brown tract which con- 

 sumes spruce butt-logs enough to make half a million feet 

 of "fiddle stuff," as it is called, for one piano factory of 

 New York city, annually. 



Last June, while I was whipping the waters of the Lower 

 Raquette, one single drive of 200,000 logs went down to 

 Colton and Potsdam. This was only one of many. The 

 havoc goes on remorselessly. What the Potsdam saw mil- 

 lers do not lay low in the forests with the axe, they flood 

 and destroy by their gigantic dam at Raquette Pond. If it 

 were not melancholy enough to row your boat among dead 

 and dying trees for forty miles, each tree a silent but 

 eloquent protest against cupidity, the saddening cup may 

 be filled by the complaints and wails of the smaller mil- 

 lers whose water-power these monstrous monopolists have 

 ruined. 



This matter must not rest. Legislature will soon con- 

 vene. With such a list of advocates of forest preservation 

 as your journal once published, and which might easily be 

 increased to a legion, our legislators might be memorialized 

 on this subject with an emphasis and dignity which they 

 would heed. Yours truly, 



J. Clement French. 

 — -+•«>► 



* 



A BANK THIEF. 



Editor Forest and Stream: — 



I think, as you cast your eye on the heading of this let- 

 ter, you will be inclined to consign my manuscript to the 

 oblivion of your waste basket, from an impression that it 

 was intended for the Police Gazette, or some financial jour- 

 nal, but it is not. Just at this time the hunters who have 

 been making game of the bulls and bears in the wiles of 

 New York, with little regard to game or any other laws, 

 are doing all that is needed to fill the columns of journals 

 that note breaches of trust (not breech loaders), and, with- 

 out desiring to add one more to the instances that render 

 bondholders and share-owners distrustful of all their race, 

 I premise by saying that the case now to be stated was in 

 good old specie days, and happened in the secluded woods 

 wherein we do so pin our faith on absence of peculation. 



Knowing that in late May and early June there are a 

 few days during which the red maple is so beautiful, and 

 the tassels of the aspens are drooping, when trout bite, 

 and the mosquitoes and flies do not, I went with our chosen 

 friend into the wilderness that lies north of John Brown's 

 tract, and west of the tramping ground of the many who 

 come in from the Adirondack region proper. This was 

 then a glorious place. The guides were trappers— unso- 

 phisticated and full of simple wood lore— and the few who 

 went in with them were men ready for hard work, and 

 hard work it was to get in when roads were not, and no 

 chains of lakes made water routes feasible. 



We had some fine boating up the Oswegatchie, and on 

 Cranberry Lake, a beautiful water then, but now ruined 

 by being raised by a dam, that has drowned out all the sur- 

 rounding forest. Desecration it was, indeed, but be it 

 known to the favored who seek information in your col- 

 umns that teem with the hints we all so value, where this 

 back water has set up the inlet, flooding miles of swamp 

 , Growth, there remains a tangle in which trout do now find 

 refuge, and the angler who can lead them by dainty work 

 from the maze of trunks and branches will now and then 

 get a fish that will make a worthy record on the scales. 

 Prom this inlet a two hours' tramp took us, with all our 

 possessions on. our backs, to Umpsted's Pond, a small sheet 

 of water; but I would like to own it and its environs as a 

 preserve. In a shell canoe of red cedar I sat with a pad- 

 dle, while my companion was drowning a large trout that 

 died hard, when a deer came out on a shallow beach 

 Within six rods' and' dipped her dainty feet in the Water 



with no idea Of fear, and lingered about us a long time. 

 It was not shooting season, and we did not disturb her. 

 Often little herds, with fawns, would come out on' the shal- 

 lows, and we watched them with infinite interest and plea- 

 sure, but harmed them not. So far all was honesty. Leav- 

 ing this pond with regret, we tramped nine miles over 

 mountains, carrying all our packs. Snow fell, and so did 

 we. The leaves were wet and greasy under the snow; the 

 snow was slippery above and below, and the tracks we 

 made did no credit to our temperance reputations. It was 

 a hard tramp, and a long one, but in a small pond splendid 

 trout bit during the snow fall, and made our noonday 

 lunch. 



We slept that night near Bog River, just by Great Trout 

 Pond (justly named), and slept without soothing syrup or 

 bromide. The next day was cold— no fish; so we set our 

 men at work upon a tall pine, and at even tide eighteen feet 

 of it were in the form of an excellent canoe. The follow- 

 ing day was milder. As we were by the river bank an old 

 hunter drifted down with the skin of a panther, just killed 

 near by (howling had been noticed), and the head of a five 

 pound trout; the latter he nailed to a tree as a sample. 



In the afternoon we floated down Bog River, getting fine 

 fish, on our way to the ruins of an old dam, made many 

 years ago to gain a flood for running logs, and abandoned 

 when the pine near the stream was cut. Here I was left 

 alone, my friend going on with our guide. The water 

 rushed in volume into a deep boiling eddy, and every fish- 

 erman knows how such a pool fills one's mind with bright 

 anticipations, and I felt that good sport was surely mine. 

 With my rod I crept out upon one of the timbers that had 

 resisted many annual floods that were recorded upon its 

 abraded form. From its top I commanded a full sweep 

 over the pool, free from brush, and a perfect stand. Hardly 

 did my hook catch in the whirling stream before a trout 

 seized it, and was saved. The slippery, agile thing was 

 mine, but hard to land. There was no place by me on the 

 log, I had no basket, and it was too big for my pocket. I 

 could not get down with it, and was in a quandary, when 

 I saw below me a shingle beach, cast up by some unusual 

 flood, lowest on the shore edge, with bright fresh grass- 

 as dainty a place to lay my fish as Nature ever provided. 

 It was a long toss, but the fish fell fair, and many a silver 

 sided one followed him. • Once and a while they would 

 slip too soon from my hand, and, to use an equivocal phras*, 

 land in the water; but more than enough were cast on the 

 green sward. Deeming any further captures a waste, I 

 ceased fishing, crept back dry shod, and sauntered on to 

 meet my companion. 



His string was a fine one, and with pride I guided him to 

 my shingle beach and bade him give me congratulation. 

 He looked very politely interested, but rather blank, and I 

 discovered an incredulous smile getting the better of his 

 confidence. I joined him to share the pleasure of gazing 

 upon the picturesque group I had left there; but did my 

 eyes fail me? There was not a fin nor even a trout spot 

 there! I looked all around; there was the dam, and the 

 old log; before me the hill rose in familiar form, and the 

 tree that shaded the fish hung over me, and, by Jove, there 

 were the prints of the fish on the weak, damp grass; but 

 the superb fish— where were they? Police, detectives, 

 where were they? But there were no police on that beat, 

 and my outraged honor was powerless. 



I assured my skeptical companion that I had caught 

 many fish, declared I had not been dreaming (how could I 

 dream on the end of a log?), and never had told a fish story. 

 But where were the fish? A closer examination told the 

 story.. Just under the water worn roots of the tree that 

 overhung the spot we found a hole leading into the bank — 

 a round burrow, evidently well travelled, and it was evi- 

 dent that its respectable occupant, doubtless honest all his 

 life up to this offence (a great shock to his family and 

 friends, the well-known minks and fishers), had been un 

 able to resist the temptation of my delicious trout, and had 

 deliberately stolen them, or, in modern parlance, become a 

 defaulter to that extent. 



It became evident that there was no hope of recovering 

 my treasures. The blamed otter was in his own bank, and 

 suspended; availed himself of sixty days notice, and didn't 

 mind a crowd at the door, even if they were ragged and 

 hungry. It was a lesson to your correspondent, and be 

 assured that if he ever gets any good thing out of a pool 

 he will not put it on a margin again. It remains unknown 

 whether the bank alluded to remains open, but beyond 

 doubt the slippery fellow can be interviewed by some of 

 the reporters, and the real truth, or an authorized state- 

 ment, obtained. L, W. L. 

 ^*»i 



A REMINISCENCE OF LAKE SUPERIOR. 



HAT indifference to hardships and even to perils 

 of life, so frequently displayed in the Indian char- 

 acter, is to sportsmen a subject of constant remark. Our 

 use of Indians as guides on lake and river, or as we follow 

 their noiseless steps through the forests, makes us look 

 upon them sometimes as wonderful beings. 



I remember a little scene which happened under my ob- 

 servation while passing a few months fishing and shooting 

 on Lake Superior during the autumn of '63. The wind had 

 been blowing steadily from the northeast for the previous, 

 three days, and the waters of old Superior, as far as the eye 

 could see, were covered with white caps. The thunder of 

 the surf on the shore could be heard many miles inland, for 

 a northeaster on this lake is one of the things to be most 

 dreaded. , ... 



One steamer during this fall had laid her bones on the 

 bottom of the lake, leaving only, one survivor to tell her sad 





