IBS 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Aug. 24, 1895. 



CAMP FOREST AND STREAM. 



Fifth Annual. 



Chicago, HI., July 23. — The other day I was in a hurry 

 when. I reached home, and threw myself upon a stool in 

 an attitude of careless grace. In my home I have revolv- 

 ing stools instead of chairs, and these stools are arranged 

 in a long row, each swinging easily upon a pivot, for the 

 convenience of a guest who wishes to turn about and 

 throw anything away. This is a great deal better than 

 chairs, which are awkward. Also, an oak counter, bare, 

 is far better than a table covered with a tablecloth. You 

 never can tell what there is under a tablecloth, but if there 

 is anything wrong about the oak board you can see it, and 

 kick. Well, I was in a hurry, and wasn't very hungry, 

 so I told the cook, who was leaning on the oak counter, 

 to cook me some ham and eggs, and be quick about it, 

 and not make the ham too light. "That's about the 

 quickest thing you can cook, I suppose?" said I. 



"Yes," said the cook. "Have it ready in two minutes," 



"I don't think," said I, in the cook's English. 



The cook was a large man with a gray eye, and he 

 looked at me calmly for a moment, without taking his 

 elbows off the counter, or I should say table. 



"I'll bet you the price of your supper I can build the fire 

 and cook ham and eggs and have 'em here on the table 

 before you in two minutes," said he. 



Of course, I know that it isn't usual for a gentleman to 

 argue or speculate that way with his cook, but there was 

 something irritating in the cook's tone of superiority, and 

 besides I thought I had a moral cinch on some free ham and 

 eggs. So I said, "I'll have to go you. Turn her loose." 



So the cook turned her loose then. And he won his bet 

 with plenty of time to spare. ' 'You seem to forget, young 

 man," said he, "that this here is Chicago." 



Well, I wouldn't have believed that if I hadn't seen it 

 done, and done fair and square. We cooked ham and 

 eggs, or rather bacon and eggs, pretty fast up in camp, 

 but at best I should think it took J. B, H., who is an ex- 

 pert, at least ten minutes, perhaps twelve minutes, or fif- 

 teen minutes. We never timed it, the other fellow being 

 usually busy getting water, or setting out the plates and 

 cups, or measuring coffee, or doing something of the kind. 

 Therefore, so far as I know, the relative superiority in 

 speed at cooking ham, or bacon, and eggs must be said to 

 remain with Chicago as against Camp Forest and 

 Stream, much as I dislike to admit the latter beaten in 

 any way. Indeed, I do not admit it beaten. For do not 

 the bacon and eggs of Camp Forest and Stream in ex- 

 cellence and sweetness surpass all comparison with simi- 

 lar product of other spots, even the pleasant village of 

 Chicago? Speed is well, my brethren, and gasoline isVell, 

 but never shall man expect of speed and gasoline alone 

 such results as come from a skillet whose handle you have 

 to wrap in a bit of bacon sacking, to prevent burning at 

 the crackling wood fire on the ground. There lies Araby. 

 There is Cyprian luxury. Epicurus sits in shadow by yon 

 tree and rubs his hands while cookery such as this pro- 

 gresses. 



But the skillet must be of aluminum. Hitherto, and for 

 the four years preceding, Camp Forest and Stream had 

 been furnished only with sheet iron skillets — two of them , 

 one nesting in the other. This year, when I took in th e 

 new aluminum frying pan, the conservatism of thre?- 

 quarters of a century looked down upon it from J. B. H.'s 

 mild blue eye. It might do, but it was new, and we had 

 tried the iron ones. (We have two sets of granite-ware 

 plates, one blue and the other gray, and J, B. H, won't 

 eat off the gray ones, because we got the blue ones first.) 

 But I begged him to let me try this thing, until with much 

 demur he consented. So upon its shiny, silvery interior 

 I placed some thin slices of the best bacon to be bought, 

 and the bacon slid and skated all around, but kept on 

 sizzling and getting brown. And then, when I cracked 

 the eggs one by one on the edge of the frying pan, and 

 dropped them hissing into the red hot extraite de bacon, 

 and when the eggs — but, dear me! how I am running 

 ahead of this story. 



To begin with, J. B. H. and I went again to Mukwonago. 

 It was five years ago that we first went there and 

 discovered Phantom Lake. After that came cottagers, 

 hotels and all that sort of thing. This year, fearing that 

 our late camping spot on Phantom might be a trifle 

 sheenesque, owing to aforesaid prevalence of summer 

 facilities, we decided upon a change. Early in the spring 

 I made a voyage of exploration in Wisconsin along the 

 Wisconsin Central Railroad, over Waukesha and Wal- 

 worth counties, and concluded that there was no country 

 lying out of doors better for a camping trip, and that it 

 would not do to change and leave that region. Moreover, 

 I discovered a new lake, about six miles or so from Phan- 

 tom, and though I am willing to admit the lake was there 

 before this year, I protest that a better lake could not have 

 been made to special order. Deep, blue, clear, surrounded 

 by high oak-covered hills, and not a soul nor a sign of a 

 cottage on it— except one little house where once some 

 campers used to stay. No more beautiful lake ever lay 

 out of doors. It was as pretty as Phantom and indeed 

 strikingly like it in configuration, but it had this advan- 

 tage, that it was absolutely quiet and untroubled. Lastly, 

 was there not a grand spring of pure water, running from 

 under the foot of the very bluff where I knew we would 

 want to camp? And did ever there lie out of doors a more 

 seemly spot than this tiny ridge at the top of the bluff, 

 under the big oaks, where there was just room enough on 

 the level for a tent or two? I was sure that J. B. H. 

 would mark that very spot for the building of the city. So 

 I wrote and told him what I had found— a whole lake all 

 for ourselves, a lake front without a sod broken on it, 

 enough bulrushes for a few bass at least, I was sure, and 

 plenty of wood and water such as one might dream about, 

 out rarely see. I told J. B. H, that I had traveled the whole 

 North country over, and had found nothing like this 

 region of the spring lakes. And would he please change 

 from Phantom, it being understood that if we didn't like 

 our newly discovered lake we should at once change to 

 our old grounds. To this J. B. H. gave hesitating con- 

 sent, loath to leave the scene of our former camps, but 

 still willing to find privacy and bass in combination. 

 Therefore, in fear and trembling for the result, I this 

 year led the way to a new site for our camp. Not being 

 able to leave Mukwonago for a better place, because there 

 isn't any better, we once more went to Mukwonago, and 

 thence drove eight miles through paradise, J. B. H., un- 

 certain as to the wisdom of our departure, and at that 

 time skeptical as to the merits of an aluminum frying- 



pan, maintaining a discreet silence on certain topics, but 

 hoping it would all come out well. 



At Mukwonago we got a team from neighbor Dillen- 

 beck, and said good evening to neighbor Andrews, and 

 got a jug of kerosene and a basket of eggs— I hope now 

 some folk who have been critical will begin to see the 

 connection between this story and its beginning— and set 

 out across the countryside, taking that road which runs 

 straight to the great fashionable place, Beulah Lake, 

 which latter we, being much disposed to be unfashion- 

 able, sought to avoid. So we crossed the foot of Beulah, 

 where the pretty old waterwheel is that somebody ought 

 to sketch and nobody ever does, and made on out toward 

 the wild and unknown region lying around the tows of 

 Troy Center. So far into terra incognita we had never 

 gone along this route. Neither of us, nor our 

 driver, knew where neighbor Schwartz — the owner 

 of most of our lake front, to which he had 

 kindly given us access— resided. Our driver had never 

 heard of this new lake, it being so far away in the heart 

 of a strange and wild country. But we fared on, though 

 now the shades of evening were approaching, hoping ever 

 to learn of the farm of neighbor Schwartz. We passed 

 the farm of neighbor Simons, and neighbor Simons was 

 out mending his hay rick. He was doing this when I 

 last saw him last year, so that one is left of the impression 

 that neighbor Simons mended his hay rick all winter 

 and spring. But of him we queried not, going yet sever- 

 al miles, at last asking a stranger where was the farm 

 and the lake of neighbor Schwartz, said lake to be dis- 

 tinguished as Schwartz's Lake, Lulu Lake, Deep Lake, 

 Round Lake, or by several other names bestowed in the 

 generous albeit slightly confusing manner of that land. 

 Then the stranger pointed out the land to which we 

 should further journey; so at length we came to our new 

 neighbor, Mr. J. A. Schwartz, who owned part of this 

 paradise, and he kindly acted as our guide over three- 

 quarters of a mile of rough hills and forest land; so at 

 length we came out upon a glorious high hill, above the 

 lake, and in full view of a sunset prepared for us alone, 

 and one such as one would order if particular in his sun- 

 sets. Then the driver went away, and we were alone by 

 our new lake, in the depths of our new woods. 



J. B. H. looked long and silently out over the lovely 

 view which lay spread below and before us, and he drew 

 a long calm breath of content which I was glad to hear. 

 "It's prettier than Phantom," said he slowly. Being thus 

 far along, I thought we might pitch camp. And to my 

 pleasure, as receiving the confirmation of an expert, J. 

 B. H. proceeded to mark out with his heel the diagram of 

 our tenting place upon the exact spot I had mentally 

 selected when I was there discovering the lake. Right 

 on the crown of a little open spot beneath the big 

 trees, where we would have shade and shelter and good 

 drainage in case of rain, he established the lines of our 

 habitation. Be sure, this was not by the lake side, but far 

 above it, for we were wise and" knew the habits of 

 mosquitoes. We were nearly at the top of the great 

 bluff and 200yds. from our spring by the lake level. The 

 hill was long and steep, but that was no objection and 

 much a benefit, as both he and I had reasoned, each by 

 himself. So there went up the two Protean tents side by 

 side, and so we began the framing of the prettiest of the 

 five Forest and Stream camps, and indeed the prettiest 

 camp I ever saw in the woods. 



Time was when we took small luggage on our trip. 

 The first year one small canoe would carry it. Then we 

 became more luxurious. To-night we had two tents — 

 though neither was more than 7ft. square — and several 

 canvas bags, and two stout boxes from a grocer's house. 

 Our tents we put up side by side, one for a home and one 

 for a storehouse. The artful fly of each tent we spread 

 out high in front in the way of a bat-shaped awning. 

 Thus we had many square feet of living and roaming 

 ground beneath canvas after all. From the peak of our 

 house tent we floated a brave flag of silk, the prettiest 

 on earth. And between the two tents, connecting them, 

 we stretched tight and trig a long stream of canvas bear- 

 ing in facsimile, though much enlarged, the moose head 

 and the rest of the sign manual which you see every 

 week at the top of the paper. "Forest and Stream," 

 said the banner; and all I wish is that the parents and all 

 the rest of the Forest and Stream family could have 

 seen how seemly the head of the paper looked, stretched 

 there in full across the space between two oaks. I think 

 the trees winked at it. 



But, be it remembered, J. B. H. had as yet given only 

 a partial and imperfect indorsement to this moving of 

 Camp Forest and Stream— the first move it ever had. 

 He had admitted the natural beauty of the spot, but as to 

 the quality of the spring water or excellence of the bass 

 for eating purposes, he was of course still silent. More- 

 over, he was still unpersuaded as to the merit of an alum- 

 inum frying-pan in actual camp life. It was therefore 

 wich some misgivings that I proceeded to unpack the 

 boxes from the grccer's house, while J. B. H. put other 

 articles in order in the tents, and then mapped out the 

 exact place where our little hearth was to be raised for a 

 few pleasant days. 



In Camp Forest and Stream things are done decently 

 and in order. There is no slovenliness and all things go 

 by system. This system prevails in the packing ot our 

 luggage, it being easy to reason that things put in the 

 bags last will come out first, and if properly arranged, in 

 the exact chronological order of their usefulness in get- 

 ting the camp in order. Thus our tarpaulin, which goes 

 at the bottom of our tent and is the first thing spread 

 upon the ground, is the last thing put into the great carry 

 bag which never really gets full— a non-human charac- 

 teristic of great excellence. After this comes the floor 

 cover that goes over the hay and makes the smooth, 

 clean carpet. Then come the tents, and last of all the 

 blankets. I regret to say, however, that the grocer man 

 has never learned our system. When I came to open our 

 boxes I found a can-opener first, then some impracticable 

 coach candles the man thought I ought to have, then 

 sardines, which being a makeshift should have small 

 tolerance in any camp; then tinned goods of all sorts, and 

 everything else but what we wanted. Of course what we 

 wanted and what the system should have assured us 

 of finding was, first, matches; second, lantern; third, 

 lantern wicks; fourth, corkscrew to pull the cork 

 out of the kerosene jug (because it always gets 

 stuck); fifth, bacon; sixth, eggs; seventh, butcher 

 knife; eighth, coffee; ninth, sugar. And so on. Because 

 now the sun had sunk behind a long streamer of glory, 

 and the fresh wind of evening had sprung up, and night 



was coming on— the first night in camp, when one has to 

 finish cooking the first supper after dark, and eat it by 

 lantern, and go to bed with still some things to be fixed 

 up around the home. Such should have been the system 

 pursued by the grocer man, but I am prone to believe he 

 was not a man of good habits, such was the confusion I 

 found in the supply box. The shadows were heavy by 

 the time I had arranged all the proper articles in order by 

 the side of the fire. For by that time J. B. H. had found 

 a little log that suited him, and some flat stones which 

 just fitted under the legs of the little grate we call our 

 stove, and a dry stick of just the proper sort to whittle 

 into kindling shavings. Then there was a hurried trip to 

 the spring with the canvas pail, a rare thing, but a great 

 blessing in camp, and in a moment more there was a ray, 

 a flicker, a tiny blaze, a merry fire. Not till the fire is 

 lighted can Gamp be called begun. This fire now brought 

 out very beautifully the outlines of our tents, our spread- 

 ing wings of canvas, our fluttering flag and the sign of 

 the Forest and Stream. It was a cheerful, comfortable 

 sight. I felt very happy, except when I thought of the 

 new frying-pan of untried utility. 



J. B. H. drew a very long breath of happiness, and sat 

 him down by the fire to cook the first meal in camp. 

 With unhesitating hand he chose the well-proved iron 

 frying-pans which heretofore had done service in our 

 trips to the woods. "Your new pan may do to fry eggs 

 in," said he, obligingly, "but I would not risk it if we 

 had fish or anything serious." Thus encouraged, I made 

 bold to beg a bit of bacon juice from his pan, augment- 

 ing this by some thin slices of bacon in my own new 

 silver-looking utensil. And then the bacon began to 

 skate and slide around in there, as I said, and to grow 

 brown, yet not to stick fast to the pan. And when I 

 cracked the eggs on the side of the silver skillet, as I 

 stated, and dropped them lightly into the red-hot bath 

 awaiting them therein, the eggs never adhered to any- 

 thing, not even the thin edges of them, near the side of 

 the pan, where eggs in camp so often yearn to linger. 

 These eggs slipped and slid into the aluminum pan, and 

 finding there nothing tangible upon which they could lay 

 a hand, began so swift a race about the interior of the 

 pan that in a few moments tbey were cooked of their 

 own friction. Then we just divided them into egg-sized 

 sections, flipped each one over to warm it on the other 

 side and then at once took them out — the very nicest fried 

 eggs we ever saw in camp, which is saying a great deal. 

 J. B. H. looked at the interior of the pan. Not a spot 

 marred it. Nothing had stuck to it. It was not black- 

 ened in the least. It was still shiny and silvery as at first. 



J. B. H. took the handle of the new frying-pan from 

 me. I had no individual option on it from that forth. 

 The iron pans were discarded, and the new one did all I 

 the work, even to the frying of the fish. When we broke 

 camp we left the iron frying-pans behind us. Next year 

 we shall have three frying-pans, nesting one within the 

 other, and they will all be new and silvery. 



Such bacon and eggs! It was, I doubt not, more than | 

 two minutes before we had them done, but we were not 

 in Chicago, and besides, no place in Chicago, let me once 

 more aver, not even my home where the row of stools is, 

 can produce such bacon and eggs as ours in Camp Forest 

 and Stream. Can one wonder that, having proved the 

 beauty of our new lake and the virtue of our new frying- 

 pan, and the excellence of our new spring of water, we 1 

 should lie down that night under the rustle of the leaves 

 and the soft flutterings of the little silken flag with the ! 

 conviction that all was to be well; that the promise of the 

 banks of bulrushes which we saw before sunset from our 

 hill was to be fulfilled in bass— in short, that the fifth I 

 annual of Camp Forest and Stream was to be none the 

 worse for the change of location, and not below the ex- 

 cellence of former years. E. Hough. 

 909 Security Building, Chicago, 111. 



MORE ABOUT CRACKERS. 



St. Francis, Lake County, Fla., Aug. 10. — Editor 

 Forest and Stream: I am not like "A Georgia Cracker," 

 or Mr. Avis. I have only taken your paper eight days, 

 but got the back numbers to June 22, lb95. I became in- 

 terested in Mr. Avis's article in the "sample copy" sent 

 me. I have been a reader more or less for a year of your 

 paper. Now, why is it every writer about Florida hits or 

 tries to hit the "Cracker?" They think it funny like their 

 snake stories, which I see you touch up in a recent issue. 

 Go for them. They are both threadbare, worn out 

 subjects. How many snakes did Mr. Avis see? One, and 

 that a blacksnake, and his is about the usual experience; 

 there, however, were more around, especially on the 

 floating islands he mentions. 



"What is a 'Cracker?'" "Why called 'Crackers?' " was 

 asked by one of our prominent Florida dailies a few years 

 ago. I will give you a synopsis of the five replies. Three 

 say it was a term applied to stock raisers and cattle herd- 

 ers, who reigned supreme, and the "crack" of their long 

 whips could be heard nearly all the time. These applied 

 to Georgia and Florida. Another applies to Georgia, 

 when at the battle of Savannah during the Eevolutionary 

 War Gen. Lincoln was heard to remark, "Listen to the 

 'crackers.' Whenever you hear that 'crack' a British 

 soldier falls." Another, who says he learned it in the 

 original home of the "Cracker," the Georgia side of the 

 vattey of the Savannah River, between Augusta and 

 Savannah, reports: "At the time of the Revolutionary 

 War this region was sparsely settled; the people had few 

 conveniences; their corn was pounded in wooden mortars 

 into meal. The British soldiers when they invaded this 

 section in 1777-8 called them corn-crackers, and the name 

 extended to all native born white men." I doubt if Mr. 

 Avis saw a "Cracker." He likely saw so-called ones im- 

 ported from the North, too lazy to enjoy good health. 

 They are the larger class of so-called "Crackers," and are 

 a disgrace to humanity. 



Now, sportsmen, when you return home from our fair 

 State and write your experiences, let up on the "Cracker" 

 and snakes. Tell all the yarns you want about fish. You 

 cannot exaggerate on that subject when referring to 

 Florida. 



I am not a "Cracker," but am told I will be in about 

 fifteen months. They say it takes seven years' residence. 

 I have lived on the St. John's River since in Florid a, andhave 

 met a good many tourists out like Mr. Avis and party, 

 and numbers of 'them who claimed they were regular 

 newspaper correspondents. They all go provided with a 

 railroad and U. S. Government chart issued in about the 

 year one. They know it all, distances, etc, ; go back North 



