162 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[March 25, 1886. 



by State Legislatures, but we ought to be able to look for 

 better things from a committee of the United States Senate, 

 and when such a committee tell us that they have given a bill 

 "very careful consideration" it ought to mean something. 



It is a serious misfortune to the interests of the Park that 

 Senator Vest is sick and at present absent from Washing- 

 ton. His intelligent interest in that region is sorely needed 

 now. 



It ssems extraordinary that after it has been pointed out, 

 as was recently done by the Forest and Stream, that there 

 are routes from the Northern Pacific Railroad to the mines, 

 which are perfectly practicable, and which do not enter 

 the Park, this committee should have recommended the 

 Cinnabar route. If the Yellowstone Park is to be turned 

 over to enrich a corporation when the poor man cannot build 

 a cabin in it, we think that the people at large will want 

 some better reason for it than is furnished in this curious 

 document. 



A VISIT TO TOB1QUE LAKE. 



THE Tobique, one of the branches of the river St. John, 

 in the Province of New Brunswick, empties iuto the 

 lattpr river on its east side about two hundred miles from its 

 mouth, and is one of the prettiest in that Province, its 

 mouth is reached by the New Brunswick railway, where 

 there is a considerable settlement of Abenaqui Indians, who 

 are always ready to carry viators in their light and graceful 

 canoes to the very source of their beautiful river, distant 

 about ninety miles from where it unites its waters with those 

 of the St. John. Man}' of these Indians are very expert 

 canoemen and hunters, good cooks, and very ready-witted 

 and intelligent. Some of the legends received by tradition 

 from their fathers are remarkably interesting, and are com- 

 mon to the whole Algonquin family, as the writer discovered 

 a few years ago when among the Cbippeways on the head 

 of Lake Superior in the State of Wisconsin. It may be men- 

 tioned as a singular instance of the tenacity with which a 

 primitive people adhere to words once received by them, 

 that these Indians to-day call any king "King James,*" while 

 Queen Victoria's designation is King Jamesque, the "que" 

 being pronounced exactly in the same manner as it is by the 

 French. AbbS I. A. Maurault was the first to cull the atten- 

 tion of the public to the remarkable circumstance of these 

 people, a portion of whom resided on the St. Lawrence, 

 where he was their missionary, retaining the name of that 

 king who ruled England when they first made the acquaint- 

 ance of the whites, and treating it as that of the designation 

 of all subsequent sovereigns. 



For sixty miles from its mouth to the Forks the Tobique 

 is a broad, rapid river, free from falls, its waters are bright 

 and pure, its banks only are settled. At Nictaux, or the 

 Forks, as it is called by the settlers, the Tobique divides 

 into two principal streams, Nictaux or Little Tobique, and 

 the Right-hand Branch or Campbell River, the former being 

 much the better stream for the canoeman, as he will have 

 to make no portage for a distance of thirty miles, but can 

 pole his canoe all the way from the Forks into Nictaux 

 Lake, where, if he be so disposed, by a portage of two miles 

 he can reach the Nepisiquit Lake and descend the stream 

 which flows from it to Bathurst on the Intercolonial Railway. 

 There is not a solitary settler above the Forks of the Tobiqne, 

 and nothing but an unbroken forest, where caribou, moose, 

 beaver and other wild animals are yet to be found, more 

 especially on the very headwaters of these branches, where 

 they come near those of the Little Southwest Miramichi. 



The Right hand Branch can be ascended to Tobique Lake 

 by means of canoes, but it is a rapid and difficult stream, as 

 it makes a great bend to the south as one ascends, and thus 

 in going to this lake one can sail at least thirty miles of dis- 

 tance by making a straight line from the mouth of the Gul- 

 quac a stream which enters into the Tobique about forty 

 miles from its mouth to the Tobique and Long Lakes. As a 

 portage was being cut through the woods last autumn be- 

 tween these two points, the writer determined to revisit by 

 this means these lakes, which abound with trout, and in 

 one of which, Long Lake, the "Tuladi" (Salrno ferox) is also 

 taken. 



Our first day's iourneywas along the river bank, and, 

 over a good road, by nightfall we had reached the house of 

 a Mr. B., where one of our party said that we would be well 

 entertained. Another, however, who knew the disposition 

 of Mr. B. better, shook his head at this. When the inquiry 

 was made the consent to remain was given in such a manner 

 tnat we all concluded that we would go ten miles further, to 

 a Mr. Knowlton's, where we were comfortably entertained. 



Early the next morning Mr. Knowlton ferried us across 

 the river in adog canoe, and led us up an old timber road 

 for about two miles, w here we struck the new portage which 

 was biing cut out to Tobique Lake. Where we first reached 

 this road it ran through a country which fire had destroyed 

 long ago. Although it was now the end of September there 

 was yet great abundance of blue berries to be gathered from 

 the vines or shrubs which were scattered around. 



The rock was a red sandstone of the subcarboniferous 

 formation, and laid in a basin which was surrounded by dis- 

 tant hills which here and there showed sharp irregular peaks. 



The "'Blue Mountains," which laid to our left sloped off 

 to the south and east, their summits terminating in irregular 

 peaks, one of which reaches an elevation of nearly 2,000 fett 

 above ttie level of the sea. 



The forest which had clothed these mountains the first 

 time that I saw them had been destroyed by fire and they 

 were now covered by white birch or poplar trees whose now 

 golden leaves showed off the darker color of the ancient 

 mountains against which they stood out in a pleasing rplief. 

 There were bui three of us and our intention was to walk 

 that day about fourteen miles on the portage until we reached 

 the place where the men who were engaged in cutting it out 

 were camping, so that we were not obliged to can y any 

 loads. Two or three miles brought us to the forest; the day 

 was warm and the shelter of the trees was very grateful. 

 Passing a smsll stream we noticed some choke berries, a 

 fruit of which the common bear is very fond, indeed one of 

 the teamsters had surprised one feeding on those at this very 

 spot. Our road was altogether through hard wood lands, 

 often over long hills, the ascent of which, though gradual, 

 was tedious; every here and there we crossed spring brooks 

 of the clearest water, beside which we sometimes seated our 



selves for rest and refreshment. There was" but little wind, 

 but each breath filled the air with the golden leaves of 

 autumn, and the faint rustle that they made in falling as 

 they struck the branches of the trees or the ground was the 

 only sound heard in this silent and majestic forest. The 

 squirrel whom one often hears along way off running among 

 the fallen leaves seemed to be absent, the lumbermen indeed 

 inform me that 1 his little creature is scarcer this season in 

 the forests of New Brunswick than it has been for many 

 years; last winter, which was very cold, may have been too 

 much for him. Wild beasts, like man, are subject to famine 

 and pestilence; it is only a few years since there was a great 

 destruction in New Brunswick among the Canada lynx (Loup 

 c-ervier), many of which were found lying dead in the 

 woods. 



About three o'clock in the aftprnoon when we had walked 

 nearly fourteen miles we heard the sound of axes, and were 

 soon welcomed to their tent by the party of woodsmen, who 

 had been employed to cut this portage for the lumbermen, 

 who are this winter at work on the shores of Tobique Lake. 

 The cook, whose kitchen was covered by the vault of heaven, 

 informed us that he had not many delicacies to offer us, but 

 proceeded at once to pour us out tin dippers full of black 

 tea sweetened by molasses, and handed each of us plates 

 with filed pork upon them. These articles of food, with 

 some light, sweet and excellent bread, such as one gets 

 nowhere else but in the woods, formed our evening repast. 

 This finished and the woodsmen's desire for the news from 

 the settlement having been gratified, we turned in under the 

 blankets with the choppers and were soon fast asleep. After 

 a good night's rest we arose refreshed and invigorated from 

 the fir boughs on which we had passed the night, and so soon 

 as the cook had his tea boiled and pork fried, we sat down 

 on the ground to take our breakfast with the crew. Al- 

 though cooks in the cities never allow the tea to boil, it is 

 not so with cooks in the forest, and many a time have 1 

 heard the weary lumberer, as he walked into the camp and 

 shook off the ic^ and snow from his clothes before the cheer- 

 ful fire, call out to the cook, "Cook, give the tea a good boil." 



Breakfast over, we started on our journey of six miles 

 through the woods to the lake, as we were now as far as the 

 men had reached with their road. The walking through the 

 trees was very good, there being but little blown down tim- 

 ber on our route; the growth consisted of a mixture of hard 

 and soft woods, the former predominating; fir, a wood but 

 little esteemed, was aho abundant. We were not long on 

 our journey before we came in sight of one of the "Twin" 

 mountains, a conical hill wooded to its summit with a mix- 

 ture of deciduous and evergreen trees. As we neared the 

 lake we saw traces of former Indian occupation in old camp- 

 ing grounds with moose bones scattered around. These 

 lakes, Tobique and Long, the former of which is four, the 

 latter eight or nine miles long, were once the best moose 

 hunting grounds in New Brunswick, and there were numer- 

 ous lakes and ponds around them to which the Abenakis 

 used to resort within the last twenty years for the purpose of 

 calling these animals in the months of September and Octo- 

 ber. Moose and caribou, if once given protection here, would 

 soon be as plentiful as ever; this could be easily done, as the 

 whole country across to the Little Southwest Miramichi Lake 

 and far beyond it is utterly unfit for settlement and only 

 valuable for the wood which covers it. This country is 

 either owned by the New Brunswick Railway Company or 

 by the Provincial Government, and if these proprietors 

 would but take joint action in this matter and appoint forest 

 guardians, this neighborhood would soon again abound with 

 game. 



I had ascended to these lakes once before in company with 

 Ambrose Bear, a famous Abenaqui hunter long since gone to 

 bis rest; he was a truthful and worthy man. At that time 

 we had some conversation about the moose, when he men- 

 tioned a strange circumstance which had occurred to him a 

 year or two before. He had been moose calling in the month 

 of September, and having been very successful had some 

 moose hides drying about his camp, an open shed. One 

 moonlight night afLer midnight, when the fire bad gone out, 

 he was awakened by the sound of an animal sniffing close to 

 him. Looking up he saw between himself and the moon the 

 head and horns of a huge moose, which was sniffing at one 

 of the hides which were hung up to dry. Cautiously mov- 

 ing his hand he took hold of the gun which he kept con- 

 stantly at his side, raised it up, took aim and fired, bringing 

 down the noble animal on the spot. 



One morning on the same excursion, when Ambrose and 

 the writer had been sleeping in the open air in the woods on 

 the iidge between Long and Tobique lakes, just after day- 

 light the Indian awoke me with a low whisper, "Sheddrake, 

 sheddrake," indicating to me that he had heard shelldrakes, 

 a species of duck common about these lakes and streams. 

 Very quietly he arose, and taking his gun from close to 

 where he had lain, and where he had it placed so that he 

 could reach it from where he had been sleeping without 

 having to rise up, he stole off into the woods silently as the 

 night. He had not been more than three minutes from my 

 side when I heard his gun, whose report was echoed and 

 re-echoed from the high hills which lay north of the lake 

 toward the head of the Serpentine River, and in about the 

 same time he was back to where I lay, bringing with him a 

 string of four or five shelldrakes. 



But to return to our present trip. The first view that we got 

 of Tobique Lake was from an old Indian bark camp, which 

 consisted of a few sheets of spruce bark placed against a 

 pole supported by two forked stakes driven into the ground 

 on either side. This shelter was open at both sides as well 

 as in the front. On a tree near by was written "John Lsporte, 

 1884. There was also an old bear house in the vicinity, in 

 which the Indians had been in -the habit of placing their 

 provisions to keep them out of the way of these animals, 

 this consisted of a pen built as the woodsman builds the 

 walls of his camp, with this difference; it was built between 

 two fir trees which were cut off at about five feet from the 

 ground and a tenon made on tnetop of either, after the bot- 

 tom, sides aud top had been made of round logs deeply 

 notched at the ends. A cross piece in which, was a suitable 

 mortise was plac-d across tne top of the house, the mortises 

 fining over the tenons; this piece of wood was strongly keyed 

 with wedges so that bruiD could neither move bottom, top 

 nor end log eithtr with his tetth or claws, both of which he 

 would be sure to bring into use should he happen to be in 

 the vicinity at any time. 



A few minutes' walk now brought us to the outlet of the 

 lake, the brook from which seemed almost to lose itself in 

 the bed of low-lying boulders through which it ran at the 

 place where we took our stand.. Howevtr, there was a con* 

 siderable pond at the foot of a rapid, and everything looked 

 as if we were goiDg to gpt some trout: one of ctar party had 

 ' taken the trouble to bring his reel and flies. On our way 



down the brook he had cut a lithe rod, and soon fastened 

 some brass rings to it for his line to run through, so that in a 

 few moments he had constructed as good a rod for casting 

 flies with as if he had carried one from the city. The other 

 fisherman contented himself with a mackerel line and a hook 

 large enough for cod fishing. I seated mysolf on the edge 

 of the pool to watch operations. 



The first fisherman cast his line well out into the water, 

 and just as be was dragging his fly from beneath the. foot of 

 the little rapid, there was a flop and his reel began to spin. 

 Neither fisherman had a landing net, so that the services of 

 Mr. Edward Jenkins, a Tobique hunter, who had joined our 

 party when we reached the road choppers, were called for. 

 He was directed to stand on tlie shore, and when the sports- 

 man had dragged the tired and half-drowned fish up to him, 

 he was to insert his finger gently into the rapidly-moving 

 gills and thus secure the game. In this he was eminently 

 successful; the trout was one of a pound or more, and in a 

 very short time we had all, even more than we wanted; the 

 average weight was about three-quarters of a pound each. 



Some of our party proceeded to the Indian camp with the 

 fish, while the rest went off to explore for timber. Our 

 trout were soon cleaned and prepared for cooking. We bad 

 no frying pan but had a tin plate which we made do the 

 same duty by inserting its edge into a split stick, which held 

 it quite firmly, answering all the purposes of a frying pan 

 handle. One of the party preferred to take one of the 

 largest fish, and after cleaning it cap fully, put inside of it 

 some pieces of fat pork; then wrapping it up tightly in a 

 piece of paper, thrust it into the ashes. When it was "with- 

 drawn it was well and thoroughly cooked and tasted very 

 savory and well. When our companions had returned from 

 timber hunting they fo'ind a bright fire blazing up. the tea 

 kettle boiling and the fish ready cooked in the fryiug pan, to 

 say nothing of the one which had been cooked in ihe ashes. 

 As the pan was small our hunter suggested that we should 

 drink off our tea at once and buil some more of our trout in 

 the tea kettle, putting in with them a piece of salt pork to 

 season them. We did this, and thus bad our trout seiveri up 

 in three different ways. When night closed in we put on a 

 good fire and laid down to rest. We were without any 

 blankets or bed clothes, and thus were not any too warm 

 toward midnight. Edward Jack. 



Address all communications to the Forest and Stream Publish- 

 ing Co. 



THE FEATHER INDUSTRY. 



THE trade in fancy feathers is full of fluctuations and 

 illustrates well the vagaries of fashion; its sudden 

 whimsical turns and the fictitious values which it places 

 upon the objects of its demand. It is a trade seemingly 

 without any very definite statistics. A representative of the 

 Forest and Stream spent several days looking into the 

 trade as it exists in this city. There were plenty of estimates, 

 no end of fragmentary guesses, but the very nature of the 

 trade, its manner of conduct and the relations existing 

 between its members, cut off all possible chance of the col- 

 lections of those tables of the volume of business which are 

 found in every other industry and line of commerce. 



There is a sharp distinct line drawn between the ostrich 

 feather trade and that in fancy feathers. The former has 

 for years traveled in clearly defined channels. There is the 

 great depot of supplies at Cape Town, South Africa, thence 

 through the trade sales in London and so on to the world. 

 In this country and especially this city, the trade is in the 

 hands of a few houses conducted by Jews, and just now 

 they are almost entirely without trade since fashion has for 

 the time put its ban upon the feather of the great South 

 African bird. 



Fancy feathers include everything outside of the various 

 ways in which the ostrich tips and plumes are worked up. 

 Everything in the feather line comes within the omnivorous 

 maw of the fancy feather worker, and just here is the diffi- 

 culty of getting any complete data. A feather-working 

 establishment may not be a very large one— a few kettles for 

 dyeing or steaming the feathers, a supply of wire, gum and 

 glass beads, and the manufacturer assisted by a few girls may 

 furnish the local shops with a great variety of this class of 

 mulinery. A gunner goes out, bangs away, right and left, 

 brings down anything with wings, outside of bees and barns, 

 and forthwith hies to this local taxidermist or feather dealer. 

 He takes the lot at a few cents each, sorts them over— some 

 hit the popular craze and bring big profits, others are put 

 down in the insect-proof boxes to await the changing dictates 

 of fashion. 



In and about New York the most famous of these "feather 

 foundries" is that of A. H. Alexander, in West Hoboken. 

 It is a three storied wooden building, well up on the Heights, 

 and is well worth a visit. Its proprietor has lived and 

 worked for thirty-five years at this place, and during that 

 time millions of "bird skins have paB-ed through bis hands. 

 He is a naturalist, a lover ot birds, played through a leather 

 manufactory whde a bov, and now in middle age would feel 

 lost unless surrounded by heaps of plumage. He has studied 

 bird science in books and watched them in their leafy homes; 

 has shouldered his gun and penetrated South American for- 

 ests in search of the gaudy denizens of tnose sub-tropical 

 wastes, and while the old Elysian Fields of Hoboken were 

 yet a pleasant suburban sylvan forest, waded in the cove 

 near by and shot wild ducks therein. To visit the manufac- 

 tory is a privilege, to hear its head talk bird lore a pleasure 

 to any ornithologist. 'Y«s," he said, ''it is a trade tif many 

 turns and sudden whims; but I find that it runs in a cycle 

 say of seven years Now it is this bird, now that. Once 

 we bad a run on seafowl, and the si j a swallow, as they were 

 calhd, was on evtry hat. Then we hunted the seashore. 

 Then, perhaps, humming birds were in demand, and down 

 into South America we went. Jutt now itis whok> birds for 

 bat fronts or set pieces for turbans. What it will be next 

 fall the Lord only knows, I don't. It may take a t-udden 

 turn hack to ostrich. A feather fancy runs about three 

 vtars. In the first y ar the fashion is set by the best people, 

 who pay the best pi ices. These willowy aigrettes are now 

 the fashion, and so the long, slender egret points sell for 

 $40 an ounce. The man who foresaw the fashion and has a 

 supply makes a fortune; the man who is loaded up with 

 stocfc which is not the style cannok give it away. One season 

 I sent over 50,000 t-kins to the London market and got over 

 a dollar each for them above expenses. To-day it would not 

 pay to send them to New York. . 

 "Where do they come. from? Everywhere. I^e great bulk 



