18 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



replied, "but I wasn't." u Ah, I jist tellyer, everybody got 

 to look out for himself in a scrimage with these 'ere brutes, 

 and you had the gun, you know. But now, boys, we'll 

 leave this fellow here tonight, and to-morrow we'll come 

 and skin him." With that we got into the canoe and 

 floated down to our camp, where soon after B. joined us. 

 He came back empty handed, but said it was ail owing to 

 the great row we made. 



The next morning we decided to move our camp higher 

 up stream, and visit our moose on the way, so soon after 

 sunrise we had everything stowed away and were en route. 

 Both boats stopped when we reached the place where the 

 deer lay, and all got out. It was a fine bull, though per- 

 haps not quite full grown, and we admired him greatly. 

 It did not take long to skin him, and cutting off a large 

 portion of the best part of the meat we left the rest of the 

 carcass for the wolves, who, Uncle Ellis said, would soon 

 finish it, as they were numerous in the woods. In fact, 

 the night before, we had heard them prowling not far from 

 us. Our camp was pitched on the left bank of the stream, 

 and the day was passed in stretching the moose skin, fish- 

 ing and getting things in order around the tent, As even- 

 ing came on we prepared to go out again, this time George 

 being on, the bow. We went up stream again, and B. 

 down. Nothing rewarded our hunt, but about nine o'clock 

 we heard B's gun, and an hour after we reached camp he 

 came in, and reported having killed a moose not far from 

 where we had met them the night before. Next morning, 

 after breakfast, we all started to see B's game. It was 

 lying flat upon the bank, and I never remember seeing a 

 finer animal of the deer kind. It was a cow, black as ink, 

 and evidently in the prime of life, very large and in fine 

 condition. The guides soon skinned it, and taking a heavy 

 load of the meat we returned to the camp. 



Very pleasant were those days passed in our camp on the 

 Penobscot, and now having a" sufficiency of meat we did 

 not go out every night, but amused ourselves with fishing 

 and exploring the stream. Trout were in great abundance 

 apparently everywhere, and we could always catch suffi- 

 cient for our wants in half an hour. One afternoon Greorge 

 and I, with Uncle Ellis, were paddling up stream, George 

 m the bow, when suddenly a moose came out of the 

 bushes, and walked slowly up the beach ahead of us. 

 "Come, Uncle Ellis," I said, "We must have that chap." 

 "Well, boys, if you'll keep mighty still, and don't move 

 imthin\ I reckon we'll git nigh enuff to shoot," and he be 

 gan to move the birch silently towards the animal, all un- 

 conscious of pur approach. It was a beautiful sight to 

 witness the splendid deer, slowly walking along the sandy 

 shore, occasionally cropping a twig or leaf from off the 

 bushes. But the rippling of the water against our bow, 

 when we were within about twenty yards of him, caused 

 him to turn his head, and as soon as he saw us he stopped 

 and gazed steadily at the advancing boat. As we were 

 perfectly motionless, he was not frightened in the least, 

 and evidently did not know exactly what to make of us. 

 "Now, George," I whispered, "now's your chance — shoot." 

 The gun was brought gradually to his shoulder, the report 

 followed, and the noble deer came with a crash to the 

 ground, shot dead in his tracks. As our time was now 

 drawing to a close, we concluded to start next day for 

 Kineo, and loading up after breakfast we started down 

 stream. I was in the bow, and as we left the camping 

 ground, Uncle Ellis said, "Now, bow-paddle; keep youi 

 eyes open, and. like as not you'll git a shot at a moose afore 

 we reach the carry." I kept a bright look out for a long 

 time, but the early start and the warm sun had its effect, 

 and i began to grow very sleepy, and soon was dozing. It 

 seemed to me that I hid hardly lost consciousness, when I 

 was startled by hearing some one exclaim, "Shoot; why 

 don't you shoot." Starting up, 1 was just in time to see a 

 cow moose with a half -grown calf by her side, walk into 

 the bubhes ahead of me. "Now, lazy-bones," said the old 

 man, "it you hadn't gone to bed in the middle of the day, 

 you could 'have killed that critter easy enough; you'd better 

 keep your eyes open, I reckon." Shortly alter we came to 

 the carry, and each taking his load trudged across to the 

 lake, where, embarking once more, we arrived towards 

 evening. The next day we went on board the steamboat, 

 and bade adieu to our happ}' hunting grounds. 



That was the last year that moose were found in any 

 great abundance around the lake, for during the next 

 winter, when the snow was deep and covered with a slight 

 crust, the lumbermen and Indians went into the woods and 

 slaughtered the helpless animals, when they were poor in 

 flesh, taking nothing away but the hides. I was informed 

 that at least five hundred were butchered, and ever since 

 then they have been growing scarcer and scarcer, while 

 last year, when I paid my second visit to this lake, a moose 

 was exceedingly rare in the vicinity. It was sad to think 

 of the useless destruction that had taken place, and know 

 that these splendid animals had been all but exterminated. 

 Perhaps if a law is passed prohioiting entirely the killing 

 of moose within ihe State for a certain number of years, 

 and punishment swiltly visited upon those who violate it, 

 in time moose may again be founcl in the woods, where 

 twenty-five years ago they were so numerous. Unless this 

 is quickly done, the bones of the last moose will soon be 

 mouldering in the forests. The trout too, are disappearing 

 in and around the lake. This assertion may provoke a 

 smile from some late visitor to Moosehead, wlio has come 

 in day after day with a handsome string of the speckled 

 beauties; but, 1 speak of to-day compared with a quarter 

 of a century ago. Every effort is being made for their ex- 

 termination. The fish are never left alone. During the 

 winter they are caught through the ice, and as soon as the 

 ice runs out countless fishermen from every quarter resort 

 there and use bait, until the fish begin to r.se to the fly, 

 when both are employed. This constaut pursuit of the 

 finny tribe is kept up throughout the summer and autumn, 

 when the trout are spawning, until winter sets in, when 

 again they are baited through the ice. When I was at 

 Ivineo, last spring, every morning a large number of boats 

 would start from the house and go in every direction, each 

 returning towards evening with from twenty to eeveuty- 

 flve pounds of fish. "What is done," I asked of my guide, 

 "with all the fish that are taken every day; they cannot be 

 eaten here." "They cook a great many at the hotel," he 

 replied, "and they give some away, and the rest they throw 

 to the hogs. Many a fine string of trout I have seen thrown 

 to them." Comment is useless, but these are degenerate 

 times, indeed, if any one worthy of the name of sportsman, 

 is content to catch trout and willingly permit his game to 

 be cast into the pig- pen when he has taken more than can 

 be consumed. Better, far better, brother angler, throw 

 , them back into the lake for another time, and forego the 

 momentary gratification of exhibiting your catch at the 



house. On the spawning beds too, they are taken in great 

 numbers. "I suppose,"! said to my guide, "you catch 

 phrjty of trout when you are not otherwise engaged." 

 "Oh, yes," said he. "a fall or so ago I went to a place I 

 know and caught my birch full. I must have had over live 

 hundred pounds, and took 'em to Greenville and got five 

 cents a pound." And I don't think he was conscious of 

 having done any wrong. At "the outlet, I one day saw the 

 dam covered with fishermen, all catching fish with worms. 

 This is all right; far be it from me to assert, that fishing shall 

 be denied to any one who is able to go after it; but the 

 manner in which sportsmen are increasing all over our 

 country, renders it only the more necessary that they 

 .should be compelled to seek their game at the proper sea- 

 son, unless we are prepared to have it entirely extermin- 

 ated all over the land 



Where now, in the vicinity of Moosehead Lake, can be 

 witnessed such sights as 1 have narrated — such as I saw at 

 Spencer Pond and in the Penobscot? I fear there are none 

 such to be found. I asked for my old guide, and others 

 whom I met on my former visit. Alas! like the moose, 

 they, too, had mostly departed. The jovial host, Burrows, 

 was dead, and his son Joe had joined a Maine regiment 

 at the beginning of the late war, and died in the service of 

 his country. Uncle Ellis had kept about the woods he had 

 so long made his home, until three years ago, when he was 

 taken very ill while in his camp, at Spenser Bay, and was 

 just able to paddle himself to a lumber camp across the 

 take, whence he was carried to Greenville to die. A house 

 has been built at the carry to the Penobscot; another hotel 

 at the outlet; an immense hotel now stands under the 

 shadow of Mt. Kineo, and many more are dotting the 

 shores in the neighborhood of Greenville. Several steam- 

 boats run upon the lake, and it is fast becoming, as it de- 

 serves to be, a great resort for those who wish to get away 

 from the crowded cities and bieathe the sweet air of the 

 forest. But all these changes may take place, the wilder- 

 ness can be thrown open to all, and yet, with a proper 

 and regulated restraint, the game of fur, fin and feather, 

 can bepreserved for many years to come, to afford gratifi- 

 cation, health and support, to all who delight in their pur- 

 suit. Sportsmen of Maine, look ye to ft. Zoopuilus. 



For Forest and Stream. 

 TRAMPING IN THE CATSKlLLS-l. 



I HAVE often r wondered whether it. is that few people 

 take pedestrian trips, or whether they think others do 

 not take interest enough in reading accounts of such trips 

 to make it worth while to write them; or again whether it 

 is that the papers decline to publish such accounts, for it 

 is a fact that "we seldom see them, even in Forest and 

 Stream where, if anywhere, it would seem natural to find 

 such articles. I propose to solve the riddle by writing 

 from my diary an account of a tramp of one week's dura- 

 tion only, taken by my friend Ingram aud myself a few 

 summers ago, and watch the interest, or want of it, ex- 

 pressed by the many readers of your paper among my ac- 

 quaintances. 



Having chosen Monticello as our starting point in our 

 intended exploration of Sullivan and the adjoining coun- 

 ties, we arrived there one Saturday evening in July, hav- 

 ing enjoyed the beautiful scenery which, from Passaic on, 

 makes the route of the Erie the most enjoyable railroad 

 ride out from New York. Being in search of information, 

 as we sat smoking our after-supper cigars upon the hotel 

 piazza, I asked a native what were the chief industries of 

 Monticello. "Oh!" replied he, "most of the folks are law- 

 yers and the rest live oil' of their money." Let us hope 

 that the latter occasionally get up a lawsuit for the benefit 

 of the former. Not having any law business to transact, 

 at five o'clock next morning we "folded our tents like the 

 Arabs and silently stole away" to White Lake, nine and a 

 half miles distant. Having never heard of White Lake 

 until a few weeks before, 1 was egotistical enough to sup- 

 pose no oue else had, but was undeceived on that point by 

 finding some half-dozen boarding-houses there, apparently 

 well filled, and showing consideraole style in the way of 

 dress, horses, etc., on the part of their oecupants. Being 

 only transients we put up at a little old country tavern 

 about a half a mile removed from its younger and more 

 pretentious neighbors, the summer boarding-houses. Here 

 we found everything very comfortable and as clean as a 

 whistle, the house being kept by three ancient maiden la 

 dies, all of whom, we were confidently informed by the 

 only other guest at the house, had money; but having a 

 wholesome respect for the old English law, that a man 

 shall not marry his grandmother, we closed our hearts to 

 all temptation in that line, aud gave our full attention to 

 doing justice to the breakfast. Shortly after breakfast, as 

 we sat on the piazza debating how we should spend the 

 day, a man came up, who* immediately joined in the con- 

 versation and told some remarkably "fishy" hunting yarns. 

 Being ardent disciples of the gentle Izaak, we inquired of 

 this communicative individual whether there was any trout 

 fishing to be had thereabout, to which he replied: "You 

 can fisb if you want to from July to eternity, but you 

 won't caich any." We concluded to let our tackle repose 

 quietly in our knapsacks until we reached some point 

 where the "speckled beauties" bit more frequently. Stroll- 

 ing down to the lake we spent the morning under the shade 

 of a beautiful grove, which extended to the water's edge, 

 making sketches (remarkable works of art they were), and 

 taking naps which were decidedly more successful. Look- 

 ing to the north the river, though scarcely to be called 

 grand, was certainly pretty. The hills bordering the lake, 

 though not high or rugged, were heavily wooded, and the 

 water being remarkably clear, reflected the surroundings 

 with exquisite minuteness. The extreme back-ground of 

 the picture was formed by Walnut Hill, which might more 

 correctly be called a mountain, although cultivated almost 

 lo its summit. 



Not finding the attraction for us at White Lake sufficient- 

 ly strong to warrant a longer stay, we shouldered our knap- 

 sacks next morning, in the cool of the early day, and 

 trudged on toward the north, skirting the eastern border of 

 the lake for a long distance, and after walking some ten 

 miles came to the top of Walnut Hill, a grand breezy 

 place, where it was luxury even to stand and breathe. 

 Here we halted for some time, and feasted our eyes on the 

 charming views spread out before us. Looking back in 

 the direction from which we had come we could see the 

 wooded hills about and beyond White Lake basking in the 

 bright summer sun. To the northward were hills more 

 rugged than those we had already crossed, but equally well 

 covered with foliage, behind which, miles away, but seem- 



ing near through the clear, rarified atmosphere, towered 

 the Catskills, the Ultima Thule of our tramp. All about 

 us at our feet laid the best cultivated portion of Sullivan 

 county, the bright golden fields of grain relieving wh'u 

 might otherwise have been a monotony of green, wlii| P 

 "the rich harvest of the new-mown bay lent to the air a 

 fresh and wholesome fragrance." But the inner man ad- 

 monished us that dinner time was approaching, and we 

 walked on three miles further to the village of Liberty 

 which is stowed away so cosily at the bottom of a deen 

 valley that we were not aware of its vicinity till comim>- m 

 the brow of a steep hill we looked directly down uponiis 

 roofs and spires. We inquired our way to the Liberty 

 House, and threw off our knapsacks at a quarter past 

 eleven, which gave us plenty of time for a bath and a rest 

 before dinner. How we enjoyed that dinner! our appp 

 tites sharpened by our thirteen mile walk in the bracing 

 mountain air! From this point we had not laid out any 

 very definite route, but found in the proprietor of the 

 house a first-rate director, who advised us, as we were m 

 search of wild scenery and good fishing, to follow the 

 main road about four miles north to Parkviile, and then 

 take a by-road over the mountains to DeBruce, from 

 whence we could get directions as to ourouward march to- 

 ward the Catskills. A short distance from Liherty we 

 crossed the Midland Railroad. At JParkville, which we 

 did not stop to examine, we turned to the right, as direct- 

 ed, and immediately left civilization behind us and enter- 

 ed upon what at first seemed a region of desolation. By 

 the side of a pretty stream, which comes tumbling down 

 from the mountains, stands what was once a large tannery 

 but the hemlock bark having given out in that vicinity Vt 

 was abandoned some years ago, and now the dam is bro- 

 ken down and the long buildings are fast falling into a 

 shapeless mass of ruins; while beyond the road leads up a 

 long, steep hill, the surface of which is composed of round 

 smooth stones, washed so bare and white that they looked 

 almost like skulls. It was without exception the most 

 desolate and forbidding spot I ever saw, and we traveled 

 up that tedious hill as quickly as possible, and were glad 

 enough to find our pain, at the top entering the forest. The 

 remainder of our afternoon's walk, though the way was 

 rough and the ascent for two miles or more was steep, was 

 one of the most delightful of the many 1 have taken in my 

 many wanderings; tne ccol air drawing through the locked 

 arms of the trees over the narrow path was more exhiler- 

 ating than any nectar of the gods, and the perfume of the 

 woods more delicious than any ever concocted by Lubiu. 

 This tract of woodland, into which we had just, entered 

 some forty-five thousand acres in extent, formeily belonged 

 to a Mr. Hunter, of Westchester county, and is known as 

 the Hunter Tract. On visiting his wilderness, which he 

 had bought of the State, he was surprised to rind on one 

 of the ridges near its centre several cleared farms of con- 

 siderable extent, the proprietors of which had taken pos- 

 session by right of squatter sovereignty, aud had lived 

 for years almost unknown to the outer world, and unvisit- 

 ed even by the tax collector. With a humanity rarely to 

 be found in such cases, Mr. Hunter did not eject these 

 squatters, but actually bought his own land from those 

 wno were willing to lemove, paying liberally for the im- 

 provements they had made, and sold to those who wished 

 to remain at the same price at which he would have sold 

 the wild woodland. This was more than forty years ago, 

 but many of the old squatters and their descendants still 

 live upon the old farms at Brown Settlement, as it is called; 

 but their bordeis t'dve been but little extended, and but few 

 new clearings have been madi, and thh vast e t *te wi h 

 its princely fortunes in tau-oark and lumber remains al- 

 most intact, and isnow owned by Judge Lowe, of Monti- 

 cello. Almost at the summit of the mountain which we 

 were crossing we passed two lakes of considerable exient. 

 The one at the left closely environed with the dark pities 

 and hemlocks, and almost covered with, water lilies; the 

 other, a little further on, much more open, but no less love- 

 ly in its quiet repose. We afterwards learned i hey were 

 called Lily and Hunter ponds respectively. Immediately 

 after passing Hunter pond we began to descend, winding 

 down the mountain side until at last we came out into the 

 valley of He Bruce. As we stopped a moment to survey 

 the scene before crossiug the bridge which spanned the 

 AVillowemock brook, 1 confess to have felt a Pharisaical 

 joy in not being as some other men are, and that God had 

 given me the taste to enjoy these wild, free scenes of na- 

 ture, while at the same time a feeling of pity came over 

 me for those poor blind birds of fashion, who, during the 

 summer, will pursue the same vain flight in search of pleas- 

 ure at Saratoga ana Long Branch which they have kept up 

 with such untiring energy and such poor results all the 

 winter long in town. 



To picture De Bruce in words is difficult, as we first saw 

 it lying calmly reposing in the close embrace of^the forest- 

 covered mountains, with no sound audible save the tinkle 

 of the bells upon the necks of the cows slowly wending 

 their way homeward, or the ripple of the picturesque Wil- 

 lowemock, with the whole valley shrouded in the shadows 

 of an early twilight, which was stretching far up the 

 mountain sides, leaving only their summits tinged with the 

 last rays of the setting sun. It is best characterized by the 

 one word — Peace. Eighteen years ago a tannery company 

 bought three hundred acres here, and clearing about forty 

 acres in this valley erected what was then the largest tan- 

 nery in the State, and which now is only exceeded by one. 

 There is also a store, a blacksmith's forge, a school, and 

 about a dozen dwellings, all belonging to the company; so 

 that one of the proprietors, who lives here and superin- 

 tends the work, may say with truth: "I am monarch of all 

 I survey." Besides the three hundred acres of land, they 

 have bought the bark on the trees upon forty-two thousand 

 acres around them, which they say will supply their wants 

 for twentv years to come. Judging from the almost im- 

 perceptible inroads the past eighteen years' work has made 

 upon the forest, it would seem as though it ought to last 

 for centuries. Here we spent two days fishing, wandering 

 through the woods and enjoying ourselves to our hearts 

 content, and many a time I wished for an artist friend 

 whom 1 had tried' hard to persuade to come with us; but 

 had he been there, I fear we could not have gotten him 

 away within the limits of our vacation. One spot especi- 

 ally on the Mongraup brook, which joins the Wi!lo ffe " 

 mock in the De Bruce valley, would liave made a finished 

 picture, By the side of an old saw-mill and under the 

 moss-covered log dam, through which the water leaked in 

 many a jet of spray where the rainbows danced, lay ' 

 deep, still pool, flanked on the side opposite the mill by a 

 great flat-topped rock, and overhung on all sides by ui 

 richest foliage. On that rock we sac one morning, and » 



