i 7 8 



RECREATION 



But the proprietor of the hotel had 

 a tender heart and, finally, pitying us 

 in our childishness as "from the 

 States," kindly offered to lend a tent. 

 It eventually proved to be spacious 

 and leaky. We had progressed so far 

 and sat down to patiently await the 

 coming of a guide. 



It was not hard to wait. With boat- 

 ing, walking, and fishing, the time 

 can't hang very heavily on one. 



About the third morning there, four 

 of us started to walk to Clear Lake, a 

 distance of about a mile through, the 

 dense woods ; great ferns growing as- 

 high as your waist and above; rasp- 

 berries, juicy and luscious, just beg- 

 ging to be picked and eaten. 



'We followed what we took to be 

 merely a trail — it turned out to be a 

 government road. On we walked. 

 Mile after mile with no break in the 

 woods. No Clear Lake. At last we 

 realized that we had lost our way. 

 Midday was a thing of the past. Mac 

 looked hollow. We felt as he looked. 



Still we walked on. Good nature 

 and a sense of experience kept us go- 

 ing. At last, about three in the after- 

 noon,, we saw a clearing ahead of us. 

 Columbus never felt more thankful. 

 Our spirits revived and we hurried on 

 to sink down, thirsty, worn out and 

 hungry, in the soft grass before the 

 door of a simple, humble cabin. But 

 the beauty and the pathos in that little 

 home! 



A quaint old woman greeted us. 

 She was bent with years and work, 

 but the spirit of the old-time courtesy 

 remained, and there was a kind word 

 for each of us and a hearty welcome. 

 As she afterwards told us, they seldom 

 saw "folks" more than four or five 

 times a year. She and her aged hus- 

 band had lived there for thirty-five 

 years and had seldom been out of the 

 clearing. One room downstairs and a 

 half room above, it reminded one of a 

 doll's house; no plaster, no laths; just 

 the plain board walls covered with 

 newspapers and hung with a few col- 

 ored prints, cut from ancient maga- 



zines that had found their way to the 

 little old couple after months of vari- 

 ous travel. Everything was immacu- 

 lately clean and we were graciously 

 welcomed in that one little room where 

 we ate, as for one, have never eaten 

 before or since, good old-fashioned 

 bread and milk. 



When we had finished we wandered 

 out of doors again and laid on the 

 grass, surrounded by cultivated wild 

 flowers and currant bushes. Every- 

 thing was ours while we'd stay. Our 

 host sat before us and told us of his 

 life. He didn't fish and he hadn't a 

 gun. Oh ! no ! he couldn't bear to see 

 the poor happy wild things die. The 

 fish owned his lake at the foot of the 

 garden and the deer were his friends 

 and companions, and the only living 

 things they saw during the winter, 

 when many times they were snowed 

 in for months- at a time. Besides, had 

 we forgotten? They were God's crea- 

 tures. 



As if in answer to his plea, out of 

 the woods at that moment there darted 

 a fawn, with absolute confidence as to 

 its reception. It stopped short at sight 

 of the strangers, however, and viewed 

 us with great, pleading eyes, and then 

 as quickly turned and, quivering with 

 fright, hurried back to the kindly shel- 

 ter of the trees. 



We were silent for some time : it 

 seemed as if Nature was asserting her- 

 self in this simple old man and his wild 

 friends. 



But we couldn't stay there always, 

 we must be going; but how could we 

 ever leave? We felt we could never 

 walk back over all those miles. 



My husband stretched himself and 

 left us with the assurance that he 

 would hunt up a four-in-hand at least. 

 He must have walked some three ad- 

 ditional miles in so doing, but his ef- 

 forts were at last rewarded and, late 

 in the afternoon, we, who were pa- 

 tiently waiting, heard a rumbling, a 

 fearful racket, and then his shout. 

 Another moment and we beheld our 

 chariot. 



