Terms, Five Dollars a Year, i 
Ten Cents a Copy. j 
NEW YORK, THURSDAY, JUNE 25, 1874. 
( Volume 2, Number 20* 
) 17 Chatham St. (Cityllall Sqr.) 
For Forest and Stream. 
YACHT SONG. 
T HE wind is fair, and glittering stars 
Are twinkling clear and bright, 
The worlds above like coantless gems, 
Adorn the glorious night. 
Hurrah! hurrah! we know not care. 
The ocean is our home; 
Then merry, merry let us be, 
While o’er its depths we roam. 
Our little bark rides gallantly— 
Ha! mark the swelling sail, 
The billows roll and softly sigh, 
While sweetly sings the gale. 
Hurrah! hurrah! we know not care, 
The ocean is our home: 
Then merry, merry let us be, 
While o’er its depths we roam. 
How pleasantly we glide away, 
The shores are lost from view; 
We swiftly float o’er sparkling sea— 
Adieu! kind friends, adieu! 
Hurrah! hurrah! we know not care, 
The ocean is our home; 
Then merry, merry let us be, 
While o’er its depths we’roam. 
St. John, W. B. J. Newton Wilson. 
fourteen in the 
QUEBEC TO LAKE ST. JOHN AND THE 
SAGUENAY. 
C APTAIN DAVENPORT, late of her Majesty’s ser¬ 
vice, and wife, who settled in Quebec some years 
past, performed the remarkable journey at the time from 
Quebec to Lake St. Johns overland. Lake St. Johns is the 
headwaters of the Saguenay River, so well known now 
to all American tourists. The lake is distant one hundred 
and twenty miles from Quebec, through a wild, untravelled, 
wooded and mountainous country, and the hardships the 
party endured can easily be credited by those who have 
ever travelled the Canadian wilds, where one mile is more 
than five under ordinary circumstances. Mrs. Daverport’s 
is the history of the first woman who ever performed the 
journey, and reflects much credit upon her courage and deter¬ 
mination. Mrs. D. is a lithe, active little lady, and pos¬ 
sessed of no ordinary love for adventure. The trip was 
undertaken solely for pleasure and the novelty of rough¬ 
ing it in the bush. I am indebted to her for the particulars 
of their journey. 
On August 21st, 1871, they started from their residence 
uear Spencer Wood, accompained by the men and horses 
engaged for the journey. At Stoneham, eighteen miles 
from Quebec, on the Jacque Cartier River, they met their 
Indian guides, and early on the following morning com¬ 
menced their adventurous undertaking. During the after¬ 
noon the rain poured in torrents, thoroughly drenching 
them before they reached a small shanty further up the 
river, in which they took shelter. It was a serious ques¬ 
tion flow to dispose of so large a party in such limited 
quarters, but w T as finally arranged by Mrs. D. and husband, 
with her mare Katy, occupying one half, and the three 
uien and the other three horses the remainder. It was 
pretty close packing, and they were in much danger of 
being tramped upon by the horses, and what with the wet 
clothes and hard boards they obtained but very little 
sleep. 
The next day, the difficulties of the road becoming 
greater, Honore, the Indian, was dispatched back to pro¬ 
cure two more Indians, while they slowly continued on. 
^Irs. Davenport here says “my horse carried the two buf¬ 
falo robes, horse rugs, and blankets, and I perched on top, 
sticking on as well as I could, though the overhanging 
brush often threatened to sweep me off. The path in many 
places was through deep and treacherous swamps, in which 
tbe horses sank oft times to their bellies.” 
That night they reached a camp where some men were 
work, who seemed to be very much surprised to see 
such a party as our travellers, and being French Canadians 
they had some difficulty in understanding that they intend¬ 
ed remaining there for the night. About half past ten 
Honore arrived with the two other Indians, whose services 
he had procured. The boss of the shanty on the following 
morning offered to take them up the river and across the 
Jacque Cartier Lake. With some difficulty, they got all 
the luggage into the boat. The river was very deep, and 
many large fish and water fowl were seen. For some two 
miles all went well, until a long reach of rapids compelled 
them to disembark while the men hauled their boat 
through—no easy matter. Mrs. D., unaccustomed to such 
rough walking, was constantly falling into holes, or getting 
fast in the swamp. The flies bit without mercy, and the 
sun was broiling. In crossing the lake they encountered 
a very severe hail and snow storm, and having no heavy 
coats or covering available, suffered much from the cold, 
while their frail craft was in momentary danger of capsizing. 
About six P. M. they reached the end of the lake, and there 
found the men who had arrived with the horses. They 
described the journey with the animab as a fearful one. 
They were obliged to make three bridges, and once to 
swim the horses across the river. Mrs. D. and her hus¬ 
band fished the lake that night, and took some very large 
trout. 
They continued their journey next day, using the horses 
as much as was possible where so many windfalls were oc¬ 
curring. Once in recrossing a river Mrs. D. fell in, but 
the water not being very deep she w T as rescued with only a 
ducking and a fright. While waiting here for the remain¬ 
der of the party to come up, some of them got out their 
fishing tackle, and the number of trout taken was extraor¬ 
dinary. AYhere the water was shallow they could see the 
fish in a dark mass on the bottom. They camped in a 
dense wood near the water, and were almost devoured by 
the flies. The roar of the falls two miles below was plainly 
audible. 
They continued down this river—the Chicoutami—in the 
boat, though they were compelled to make many portages. 
Once the Indians proved refractory, and refused to go fur¬ 
ther but Mrs. Davenport’s firmness, and the declaration 
that she would continue on alone, reduced them to sub¬ 
mission. They were all very much disfigured from the fly 
bites. Mrs. Davenport’s- head and neck were so swollen 
that she was compelled at night to remain in a sitting posi¬ 
tion. Her clothes were in rags, and her shoes entirely 
o-iven out. Honoie lent her a pair of moccasins, and her 
husband wrapped her feet in handkerchiefs to prevent the 
stones from hurting them. 
The ninth day commenced with rain, and continued 
throughout the day. Birch bark being plentiful, a cabin was 
constructed for Mrs. Davenport, who had now quite lost 
the use of her limbs, and could not stir. Provisions were 
fast giving out, and though actual starvation did not stare 
them in the face it behooved them to waste no time in 
reaching their journey’s end. 
All were up at daybreak, anxiously looking for the In¬ 
dians to come up with the scant remainder of the provi¬ 
sions. They waited until noon, and not hearing anything 
of them, they continued on, and camped at night on the 
bare ground, the rain pouring in torrents. Supperless, they 
composed themselves to take what rest they could. Next day 
(the eleventh) they reached a little lake, which Mrs. Daven¬ 
port describes as very lovely, covered with a profusion of 
white and yellow water-lilies. There seemed to be plenty 
of fish in it, but they were without the means of taking 
ary. Captain Davenport shot three partridges, but being 
the spruce partridge, were not very palatable. 
The thirteenth day they reached Johnson, the other two 
Indians and the horses. They were standing on the river 
bank, and Mrs. Davenport says so wretched and emaciated 
were’the appearance of the men and horses that she did 
not at first recognize them. They had suffered most 
severely in crossing the many swamps, and more than once 
came near losing the horses. On reaching the river John¬ 
son had dispatched one of the Indians to procure assist¬ 
ance from the lake, and they were camped here awaiting 
his return. The condition of our other party was not 
much better than Johnson’s. Mrs. Davenport was so 
prostrated that on the arrival of the expected help from 
the lake they were compelled to construct an ambulance, 
upon which she was carried bv two men. The journey 
now was fast approaching its close, and late next evening 
they had the happiness of reaching some civilization, and 
in Mr. Tremblay’s house they found a cordial welcome 
from his wife, and under her care in a few days they had 
recovered sufficiently from the effects of their trip to 
visit some of the points of interest around the lake. The 
Indian encampments, the Hudson’s Bay Post each in turn 
received a visit. 
Mr. Tremblay, their host, informed them that they were 
the third party he had rescued from starvation attempting 
to reach the lake overland, and he himself the winter pre¬ 
viously had a narrow escape with a party of eight whom 
he was conducting to the lake. 
Mrs. Davenport describes the lake as more of a sea than 
a lake in extent, and its shores on the opposite side appear¬ 
ing like a mere silver line. 
A few days later and they were driven to Ha Ha Bay on 
the Saguenay, from whence they took steamer fo Quebec, 
and arrived without further event. 
G, M. Fairchild, Jr. 
—--- 
For Forest and Stream. 
THE IRISH HUNTING SEASON. 
Solvitur aerishiems, grata vice veris etfavoni, 
DifCugere nives: redeunt jam gramina cam pis, 
Arboribusque comae. 
T HOUGH the above lines, if taken literalty, -would 
hardly apply to the unusually mild season that has 
just passed away, it is no less true that winter—such as it 
has been—has come and gone, without our ever having 
been well aware of its presence, and that we are now enjoy¬ 
ing the beauties of a spring, which thus far, promises to be 
all that the vernal season should. The transition, however, 
has been so imperceptible, so gradual, that I doubt whether 
we appreciate the “grateful change” the poet speaks of as 
fully as we should have done, had it followed on the heels 
of a severe and boisterous winter. We are apt to asso¬ 
ciate the latter with snow and frost, with slush and mud, 
and in this moist Irish climate of ours, with many a dreary 
day of incessant steady rain, direful forebodings of frost¬ 
bitten noses, and chapped hands and feet, of coughs and 
colds, and doctor’s bills, are connected with our thoughts 
of it; gloomy visions of the thermometer at zero, and coals 
at forty shillings a ton, present themselves before us, and 
while there are many who actually dread the approach of 
the short November days that usher in the close of the dy¬ 
ing year, there are few 7 persons disposed to look upon the 
advent of one of our normal English winters altogether iij 
the light of an unmixed blessing. 
There is one class of men, however, ’who have every 
reason to be pleased with their experiences of the past six 
months. Never before perhaps has hunting had so few in¬ 
terruptions, or less difficulties to contend with. While 
snow has been wholly unknown, frost has been so slight as 
not once to interfere with the scent, and of rain there has 
been barely enough to soften the ground sufficiently to ren¬ 
der riding both pleasant and safe. In this county, where 
we can reckon on at least three “meets” a w 7 eek, there has 
been but one day on which the hounds were not “thrown 
off,” and from other parts of the country the reports have 
been equally favorable. The season of 1873-4 will long be 
remembered for its unprecedented brilliancy, and is worthy 
of being chronicled in golden letters in the hunting annals 
of the past. While we are on the subject, I might remark 
on the singular fascination that hunting possesses^for its fol¬ 
lowers. The five or six months it calls its own they devote 
themselves to it with an energy and persistency which the 
majority of them would.be quite incapable of applying to 
any other subject. From the opening to the wind up of 
the season they live in a fever of excitement, their minds 
alternately swayed by hope and fear, and their spirits 
mounting and sinking with every corresponding rise and 
fall of the weather-glass they so frequently study. Their 
tlfoughts flow but in one channel, and the ultima thule of 
their ambition consists in their not. missing a single “run,” 
and in their being “in” at every “death.” From the first 
to the final meet they grudge poor “puss” or “reynard” a 
day’s respite, and deep are their imprecations should the 
clerk of the weather in a capricious moment send a dash of 
1 frost, or a few nights heavy rain, to mar their sport. The 
