34 
FOREST AND STREAM 
and cutlery were coziiy packed with sugar and salt, ham, 
sardines, and crackers, so snug that surprising combina¬ 
tions resulted, and generally similar flavor indicated the 
intimate relations that existed when the covers were dow r n 
and the heavy man of our party sat upon them. The final ad¬ 
justments were informal, but a place was found for every¬ 
thing, even to the corkscrew, and sometimes we were so 
fortunate as to recall some clue that led us to the place 
where things were to be seen again, and the right thing 
would occasionally come to light. Rather proud of our 
domestic achievements, having as yet made no attempt at 
exhuming anything, we went with plac’d satisfaction to 
the little bow deck—just room for three—and called for 
camp chairs. Settled in them, we found it as delightful as 
possible. There was nothing before us but the flag staff, 
and that was ordered down, when our eyes gazed upon the 
royal river, nothing obstructing the view of the sky, bright 
water, and shores of varying attire. Our speed was not 
great, and there was no disposition to hurry. 
All that surrounds one at the south is suggestive of and 
in unison with rest, and nothing is more grateful. At the 
north it is not so; energy and haste seem the spirit of ani¬ 
mate and inanimate life. The wind blusters and frets in an 
eager way, while the clouds drive on as if their haven was 
not yet found. The surf on the rocky shores is not the 
low, long tone of the strand; it essays the conquest and 
crumbling of the rock-bound coasts, while the streams 
hasten on their way to the sea, cutting corners like mes¬ 
sengers, and turning a whirl here and there with an ex¬ 
pression of relief at getting away from a temporary delay 
in the quiet pond. And are we not too much the same? 
Do not northern men wear away in efforts to save time, 
and never command leisure? Are not brains mazed by ef¬ 
forts to save and systematize that only increase complexity? 
Do not our women assume care to preserve and protect 
their beautifully furnished homes until their chairs and 
fragile china outlast their weary lives? Can minds al¬ 
ways engrossed really see what is laid broadcast of beauty 
and interest any more than ruffled waters can reflect the 
sky or beautiful shores; and does not our laboriously as¬ 
sumed discipline of habit finally become a power that can¬ 
not be shaken off even if weakened vitality warns that it 
must be done? But our bows were unbent, and bur sur¬ 
render to the peaceful influences was unconditional. The 
broad, quiet river bore no evidence of the centuries that 
have passed since the first adventurers explored it for the 
fountain of youth—a fountain that, undiscovered for man, 
assuredly maintains the evergreen vigor of this remarkable 
stream. Known longer than any river on the continent, it 
is the same to the eye as when the first boat passed over it. 
At hardly any point are there breaks in the line of foliage 
that crowds to the water’s edge, and miles and miles did we 
pass on, seeing no evidence that the swells from our boat 
were not the first that set the water lilies nodding a friendly 
welcome. 
The lower river is too wide for game, being often ten 
miles from shore to shore; quite sea room enough for a 
yaclitman’s skill, and water enough for a good sized craft 
on nearly all stretches. From this wide water we turned 
into Black Creek, where we were promised shots at alliga¬ 
tors. This is a very beautiful stream, about one hundred 
yards wide. The alligator is very much like our northern 
turtles in his manner of life, and, like them, enjoys sun¬ 
shine on his scaly form. We slowed the engine and went 
on very quietly, keeping near the sunny bank of the river, 
half forgetting at times our purpose in admiration of the 
same. The alligator is not easily seen by a novice among 
so many new forms to catch the eye. Their scaly backs, 
when dry, are precisely the color of bark, and lying on or 
by fallen trees their form assimilates so closely to the de¬ 
caying trunks that we were unable to distinguish them at 
first, even when our small imp of all work would grimace 
like a monkey in efforts to point them out. We did not 
admit with candor that we did not see them, but bravely 
fired away, and kept up an expression of entire wisdom, 
even when in response to hurried shots chips flew from 
logs that were not very near the splash made by the escap¬ 
ing saurian. One or two were hit, and when wounded 
gave a display of power that increased our respect for 
them. Smashing about, they made the foam and water 
fly like a propeller wheel on a tear, but almost invariably 
retained enough vitality to get to the bottom, where the 
body remains in the mud and grass until, expanded by de¬ 
composition, it rises to be food for swarms of turkey buz¬ 
zards. We continued this rifle practice for some time, 
until the long shadows covered both banks, when the alli¬ 
gators, as dependent upon sunshine as butterflies, went 
into their slimy homes. Then we turned to reach the open 
river before dark, let on more steam, and laid aside our 
rifles to enjoy the scene. It was wonderfully fair. Foliage 
of new forms pressed out over the water, vines laden with 
bloom hung’like Narcissus over the flood lost in their re¬ 
flections, ducks swam hastily on before us, drawing awake 
that became long rays of light, and overtaken took long 
circles back to the quiet scenes we were leaving, while on 
the topmost branches of tall trees turkey buzzards sat 
in rows, waiting like ghouls for death and decay to lure 
them down. They were unmindful of rifle balls; safe in 
worthlessness they surveyed the scene their repulsive forms 
marred, and when the shadows were almost as dark as their 
sable wings we were glad to enter the open river. Over 
the bar, with full steam, we pressed on as long as we could 
see, and then tied to a deserted wood wharf for the night, 
lighted up our little cabin, had our supper, a few glasses of 
social wine, and then turned in to dream of semi-tropical 
life. L. W.L. 
—Twenty four race horses, ten ostriches, and six ante¬ 
lopes arrived per steamer Schiller on Friday, all consigned 
to Mr. Barnum, for use in his new hippodrome. 
REMINISCENCE OF LA KE SUPERIOR. 
NUMBER TWO. 
BY THOMAS SEDGWICK STEELE. 
I T was with a hearty laugh that Dr. W. bounded into my 
room one bright morning in the latter part of Septem¬ 
ber, without waiting to knock or in any way announce his 
arrival. In almost the same breath he called out, “Why! 
you’re a pretty fellow to be housed here all day long, fus¬ 
sing over those feathers and wires ! Why are you not on 
the river trolling, or in the woods after partridges? Come,- 
put up those tools and lets off for a day’s tramp. Peter has 
put up enough luncheon for two, so pick up your gun and 
come on.” The fact was, that for the past week I had 
spent a great portion of my time stuffing birds. I had col¬ 
lected some two dozen, peculiar to the Lake Superior 
region, and had packed them away preparatory to leaving 
on “the last boat of the season.” At tlie present time I 
had under consideration a Canada jay or “Whiskey Jack,” 
as they are sometimes called, and was manipulating it in 
the usual manner. I had just turned the skin of the bird 
to its natural position and was making a body of hemp as 
near the size of the original as possible, when the Doctor 
entered and accosted me with above salutation. Doctor 
W. was an Englishman, but, instead of possessing the 
rotund figure which “John Bull” is always supposed to 
have, he was tall and slim, with that restless activity of man¬ 
ner and overflow of fun and jollity which are the proverbial 
dignity of an Englishman. He was “a hale fellow, well 
met” and consequently a favorite with all. His bright face 
alone brought relief and happiness to a sick room, and as a 
companion in the woods, he was everything that could be 
desired. All these attractive qualities were really the secret 
of his success as a physician—setting aside the fact of there 
being no other within a radius of thirteen miles. It would 
indeed have been a brave man who could venture to “hang 
out his shingle” in competition with Doctor W. 
Although loath to leave my bird half finished, I knew 
the Doctor’s company would ^ell repay me, so I carefully 
smoothed down the plumage and depositing the skin in my 
drawer, looked about for my gun. To most people, my 
room might not have been attractive, but to me, as apports- 
man, it was perfection. The pegs around the room, not 
covered by wearing apparel, were decorated with fishing 
rods, creels, nets and all the paraphernalia of an angler, 
while in one corner, carefully packed in cotton, were skins 
of birds and jars of agates which I had collected during 
four month’s occupation of the premises. In one corner 
lay my game bag and a pair of deer’s antlers, while last 
but not least, stood my ever faithful friend, my gun. To 
throw on my hunting coat, whose numerous pockets were 
made to contain everything from game to percussion caps, 
was the work of an instant, and shouldering my gun, I 
locked the door and followed the Doctor down stairs and 
out into the street. It was a lovely morning, bright, clear 
and frosty, with but little wind to stir the waves of old 
Superior, in -whose mirror-like surface was reflected the 
deep blue of the sky. With one long lingering look down 
the Lake to see that no steamer was in sight, (as their ar¬ 
rival always made a holiday at Ontonagon,) we turned our 
backs on the scene, and passing through the town, followed 
the old corduroy road into the woods. Occasionally we 
stopped to pick a few berries, the last of the season, to 
snatch a few ferns from the wayside or to cut from some 
old stump a pretty bit of moss. It would have been better 
for me if, for once, I had let the “pretty mosses” go, for a 
favorite hunting knife mounted in ivory and silver, a relic 
of “our late unpleasantness” may, for aught I know, be 
still sticking in that old stump or some friendly Indian may 
have slipped it into his belt ere this. If so, I can safely 
assure him that he has secured a first-rate piece of cutlery. 
Mile after mile we plodded up the road, our dogs working 
in the woods to the right and left, occasionally starting a 
partridge which fell by the Doctor’s unerring aim. Through 
the stillness of the woods came the sound of the great tree- 
pecker or woodcock of the northern woods, his body of 
black and white feathers, almost as large as a partridge and 
a crest of Vermillion that would put a sunset to blush. 
Soon we came to the thickest part of the woods where the 
great trees encroached on the road, and tossed their long 
branches into dangerous proximity to the stages for the 
mines. Although the morning was calm, not so had been 
the night previous, and across our path lay numerous me¬ 
mentoes of the gale, around which we had to work our 
way. While passing through one of these thickets of fallen 
branches, our dogs came to a point. Cocking our guns we 
made ready for whatever should be flushed. The next 
moment, whir-r r-r, that music so melodious to all sports¬ 
men’s ears, and up sprang two partridges, the Doctor cover¬ 
ing one and I the other. The smoke had hardly clear¬ 
ed away when up sprang another brace, followed almost 
immediately by a single bird. Being wholly unprepared 
for quite so many in one spot, we only knocked two, Dr. 
W. missing the last one. It was with great difficulty we 
could restrain the dogs and prevent them from rushing in, 
as we had not as yet retrieved a bird. But it was well we 
did, for a few feet further on Spot came to a point, backed 
by Hero in the most graceful manner possible. The under¬ 
growth was very thick, long vines stretching from tree to 
tree, and across our path in every direction innumerable 
slippery branches covered the ground, but as Spot very 
seldom deceived us we pushed forward to where he stood. 
The Doctor, who was a little in advance, had hardly reach¬ 
ed the dogs when up sprang another brace of partridges which 
he dropped with his right and left barrel. Re-loading, we 
“quartered” the ground, but not another bird could be 
flushed, so, picking up those we had killed, we returned to 
the road, satisfied in bagging six out of a flock of seven. 
Where that seventh bird disappeared we never could dis¬ 
cover; possibly into a swamp hard by, but we contented our 
minds with the thought that some other sportsman would 
retrieve him and that we ought to be generous. On we 
tramped along that corduroy road, every foot of wiiich is 
so distinct in my memory, until we arrived at an old log 
house, a few rods back from the road, at whose door we 
knocked and were greeted with “come in” from a remark¬ 
ably healthy pair of lungs. 
The hut contained but two rooms, the latter of which 
could hardly be called a room, but rather a shed, and con¬ 
tained wood and various tubs arranged for the week’s wash¬ 
ing. In the centre of the main room stood an old-fashion¬ 
ed iron box stove, whi le from the rafters above hung sundry 
ears of corn, aspaj^jfo^ branches and hams. The female 
members of thej^^^Hk were grouped around in various 
corners while the’oi'awny head of the house sat resting one 
arm on the table and smoking an old clay pipe. To our re¬ 
quest for a “glass of water” we received a decided “no,” 
but the “Lieut. Governor” of the’family finally produced a 
cup of milk, saying that the well had given out and the 
spring was half a mile distant, but if we would accept of 
this, (holding forward the cup,) she would be pleased. 
The cup was of stone china, had evidently seen better days, 
and been younger and prettier. The handle was gone and 
the edge looked as if it had withstood a charge of grape 
and cannister, while numerous dark spots con¬ 
firmed the fact of there being no water in the 
house ! But we were wry thirsty and had a walk still of four 
long miles before we reached another house or the mining 
town of Rockland, towards which we were bending: our 
steps; so, shutting our eyes, we each in turn lifted the cup/ 
and it-was all over ! Thanking them for their kindness, 
we were soon deep in the ivoods again, hoping that another 
bird or two might fall to our bag. We were not disap¬ 
pointed, for we soon flushed three others, all of which fell 
to our hand. 
We had now entered the mining town of Rockland, and 
passing though its muddy streets, wound our way up the 
hill to the mines on its crest. Here -we rested our weary 
feet and gazed down on the village below. To the south of 
us stretched an almost endless forest with hardly an open¬ 
ing, the bright autumnal foliage in strong contrast with the 
dark solemn pines. At our feet lay the village with its ever 
busy inhabitants, its low log houses and its noisy dogs and 
pigs, a very fair sample of a western mining town. Oc¬ 
casionally a few notes of a flute or violin would be wafted 
to our ears, for a Cornishman’s house is hardly complete 
without some kind of a musical instrument. To the east 
and west extended the mountains of the great mineral range, 
dotted here and there with the “pepper box” shaft houses, 
while constantly could be heard the cliinck, chinck, cliinck 
of the skips as they were drawn out of the mine and tlie 
roll of the rock as it rattled down the hill. 
After we had sufficiently recovered from our walk the 
Doctor suggested that we should vary our tramp by a trip 
down the mine, provided we could find a “Mining Captain,” 
(as they are called,) who was “goiog in” at that time. So 
we immediately repaired to the “change house,” and de¬ 
positing our guns, game bags and other equipments, and 
securing the dogs, we doffed a portion of our clothing and 
arrayed ourselves in heavy canvass jackets and pants. Our 
heads were crowned with odd-looking hats, as hard as sole 
leather, something after tlie shape of Esquimaux huts. 
These were to protect our heads from falling rocks while 
down the mine. Following the directions of the Captain 
we rolled a tallow candle in soft clay and sticking it on to 
the front of our hats, picked our way over the rocks to the 
shaft house, and entered the shaft through a hole only just 
large enough to admit one’s body. 
As soon as daylight disappeared the Captain ordered a 
“halt,” to impart a few instructions necessary to our safety. 
From the top to the bottom of the mine extended ladders 
which were securely fastened to the sides of the shaft, and 
the Captain’s most important warning was that we must 
never let go our hold of one round of the ladder until we had 
firmly secured another, else a remarkably sudden trip of 
twelve hundred feet would be the consequence. Gradually 
we began the descent, hand over hand, round by round, 
until we had reached what is called the “first level.” Tak¬ 
ing breath, and pushing the clay from the wicks of our 
candles, which still adhered to our hats, we slipped a few 
feet to the right and continued downward on another lad¬ 
der. On the sides of the rock underneath us ran a rapid 
stream of water, continually fed by hidden springs, while 
on all sides the dark damp rocks seemed ready to crush us, 
so closely did they seem to press, but nothing daunted we 
continued our downward way. To the left lay another and 
larger shaft, through which we could see the “skips” filled 
with copper and rock passing and repassing, to which were 
fastened copper ropes, running over pulleys and operated 
by an engine up above at the entrance of the mine. By 
this time we were decidedly cold, and our hands and wrists 
all covered with soft sticky clay, which made it extremely 
difficult to retain our hold on the ladder, but hold we must. 
Down and farther down, until. the bottom of the mine is 
reached, 1,200 feet below the surface, wlieni removing our 
candle from its exalted position on our hats and shading it 
from the air, we groped our way along in the “level,” ex¬ 
pecting every moment to make some unlucky step. The 
blasts in other parts of the mine sounded like distant thun¬ 
der as they echoed along the gallery. 
Away up in one part of the rock men were “stopping” or 
following a vein of copper, the musical “chinck, chinck” of 
