June 27, 1889,] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



467 



From Northeast Carry to Chesuncook itis called 18 miles. 

 There are no clearings along the river, yet it is a much- 

 traveled water route, canoes with sportsmen and bateaux 

 with lumbermen and supplies being frequently met. 

 One may travel an equal distance on many of the roads 

 through the rural districts of Massachusetts and Con- 

 necticut and meet not half so many people. Eighty 

 canoes and sportsmen were reported as in the country to 

 which the Penobscot is the highway at one time last 

 September. 



At Chesuncook is a woods hotel kept by Mr. and Mrs. 

 Hilton. It is a model of its kind, and to find such excel- 

 lent accommodations in so remote a place was a pleasant 

 surprise. The house is two story, painted white, with a 

 veranda running half-way around. The view from the 

 front is very fine, looking across Chesuncook Lake away 

 to bold and missive Katahdin. This mountain, the high- 

 est in Maine, rises 5,385ft. above the sea level. As the 

 bird flies it is 28 miles from Chesuncook, but even at that 

 distance its sides of bare rock seem majestic in their pro- 

 portions, and the scars of great land slides that have 

 furrowed its ravines are distinctly seen. 



After a very comfortable night at Chesuncook, with 

 heavily laden canoes we left to follow TJmbazookin's 

 Stream to Mud Pond Carry, and thence to Chamberlain 

 Lake. TJmbazookin's Stream is winding, and in places 

 so shallow that we were obliged to wade and drag the 

 canoes. At such places the channel is easily followed by 

 the marks of paint on the rocks where canoes have 

 scraped. At Mud Pond Carry a man named Smith has 

 erected a log house, where he lives during the late sum- 

 mer and early fall. He keeps two ancient and sorry 

 looking horses, and enjoys a monopoly of the business of 

 "toting" across the carry. The distance is about H 

 miles, and the road, at first rough and muddy, grows 

 worse as Mud Pond is approached. In places the mud 

 and water were so deep as to cover the body of the sled 

 on which our outfit was dragged across, and it wet the 

 bottoms of our provision boxes. No serious damage was 

 done, and only two hours were lost in the transfer, 

 whereas had we been obliged to flounder through the 

 mud, "sacking" all our effects on our backs, two days 

 would hardly have sufficed for the laborious task. 



Mr. Smith had been at the carry since Aug. 10 — about 

 six weeks— during which time ten parties of sportsmen 

 had crossed going north. While passing this carry a 

 heavy ram storm commenced, continuing into the tiij*ht. 

 From Mud Pond Carry, across Mud Lake and down Mud 

 Stream to Chamberlain Lake is two miles. The stream 

 is shallow and rock bedded, so the guides waded most of 

 the way leading the canoes. Chamberlain Lake is fifteen 

 miles long by three or four wide, Some 800 acres of land 

 have been cleared on the northern shore, where hay, 

 potatoes and beans are raised for the use of lumber 

 crews, and many oxen are pastured through the summer. 

 Wet, cold and hungry, we were glad to avail ourselves 

 of the shelter afforded by a trapper's hut, across the lake 

 from Chamberlain farm, about two miles from the mouth 

 of Mud Stream. 



Our shelter was about 8ft. X 10ft. in dimensions, made 

 of logs neatly dovetailed. A coucb of split logs was 

 built along one side and covered with dry hemlock 

 boughs, a single 7X9 pane window admitted a dim light, 

 and splits made a water-tight roof. A dilapidated cook- 

 ing stove, which had doubtless outserved its usefulness 

 in some settlement and been brought here with great 

 labor, filled a considerable part of this little cabin. By 

 the side of the stove was plenty of dry wood with pots 

 and pans, with a single caribou horn hung against the 

 spall, As the door was opened, probably for the first 

 time in many months, a strong musty odor made the 

 place seem unwholesome, but a hot fire in the stove soon 1 

 changed the air and rapidly dried our wet clothing and ! 

 provisions. | 



From this point our course lay along the southern 

 shores of Chamberlain Lake to its western end, where 

 Allaguash Stream enters, thence up the stream to its ! 

 extreme headwaters. At the mouth of Ellis Stream, ' 

 Chamberlain Lake, two Bangor gentlemen were camped 

 with Indian guides. These were the last sportsmen we 

 met till Chesuncook Lake was reached coming out three 

 weeks later. Slowly we worked up Allaguash Stream, 

 having often to unload and lift over obstructions or make 

 short carries of a few yards around rocks and falls until 

 late in the afternoon we came to falls about 20ft. in 

 height at the foot of a small pond. Below the falls is a 

 magnificent pool, wide and deep, rimmed by rocks, 

 sheltered by forests, resounding always to the roar of the 

 falls. Here, while we cast our flies on the fruitful waters 

 the guides made camp. To this camp there came a trap- 

 per who had been exploring the country above. In cross- 

 ing Allaguash Lake that day his canoe had swamped— 

 his clothing and provisions were all wet, matches ruined 

 and pipe lost. We gave the man matches, pipe and 

 tobacco, fed him of our abundant fare and played the 

 good Samaritan generally, in return for which he gave 

 us much information of the region north of Allaguash 

 Lake. 



From this camp we pushed on the next morning up the 

 stream to Allaguash Lake, which was reached about noon. 

 The character of the stream changes from the falls. It 

 flows wide, swift and shallow, but less broken or ob- 

 structed. Often the guides waded, dragging their canoes, 

 and again hard poling made slow progress. To lighten 

 the canoes my companion and I waded the stream or 

 pushed our way through the cedar swamp. Of all forest 

 travel I have seen this was the worst. The great trees 

 had fallen in every direction, their roots standing high in 

 air.. With climbing over, crawling under and going 

 around our progress was indeed slow. From the stream" 

 the swift current and uncertain footing drove us to the 

 forest, then the almost impassable wav and close air made 

 the stream again seem preferable, so now wading, now 

 beating through the swamp, we tried to keep up with the 

 canoes. 



One glance over the white-capped surface of the lake 

 dispelled all hope of proceeding further that day, so cast- 

 ing our flies in a pool below the outlet and along the 

 swift cm-rent of the stream below, a dozen trout were 

 quickly taken; and establishing camp in the thick woods 

 far enough back from the lake to be sheltered from the 

 wind we rested for the afternoon and night. At earliest 

 dawn of the morning our camp was stirring. Canoes 

 were quickly launched on the now tranquil surface, and 

 while the mists of the night yet himg over the water, 

 strong strokes of the paddle were sending us across the 

 lake to camp near the inlet of Allaguash Stream. This 



beautiful clear water lake covers twelve square miles, 

 being nearly square, with many coves. Here, on a 

 beautiful green poplar-covered point we selected our camp 

 site. Along the point for forty rods was a line sand 

 beach, adding greatly to the attractions of the site. 

 A camp had at some time been established here and paths 

 bushed out to the water on both sides of the point. Our 

 first work was to clear away the undergrowth, widen the 

 paths, build a table and generally put the camp in order. 



This place was our headquarters for two weeks. From 

 the beach Allaguash Lake stretched away an easy road 

 for the canoes convenient at hand. From here we made 

 excursions to the surrounding region, and hunted part- 

 ridges in the woods and loons and ducks on the lake. Just 

 above our camp the stream poured its strong volume into 

 the lake, and the trout gathered to feed in the incoming 

 waters. The size of these trout was remarkable, the 

 quality excellent. Of the first ten speckled trout taken 

 here, the smallest weighed Ulbs., the largest was 20in. 

 long, weighing S^lbs. The usual size was 18in. long, 

 weight 2irlbs. My companion, shortly after our arrival, 

 was playing one of these 2-pound trout and had it nearly 

 tame enough for the net, when another fish caught one 

 of the flies and started a fresh excitement. These fish 

 were finally both brought to net, the second being a lake 

 trout of about l.ilbs. This gave us the idea of baiting a 

 place so as always to have plenty of lakers. Just where 

 the lake deepened and the current from the stream was 

 not yet wholly lost, we marked a spot by a stake, and 

 here daily fed our gathering school with all the refuse 

 food from the camp. Thereafter we had no difficulty in 

 getting all the lake trout we wanted. The usual size 

 weighed about 31bs., the largest 441bs. Only two were 

 taken with the fly, the others with small fish and pieces 

 of chub for bait. The lake trout when hooked always 

 sought bottom, and usually managed to twist the leader 

 around their tails. This kind of fishing was severe work 

 for our light split-bamboo fly-rods, and finally ruined 

 them. One cusk was caught here and five wdiitefish, the 

 latter with flies. The whitefish were excellent eating, 

 and between the lake trout and speckled trout we had no 

 choice. That there might be excuse for taking more fish 

 than our table required, the guides built a smokehouse, 

 where they smoked a few fish which we brought home. 

 In the coves of the lake where the water was shallow and 

 the large fish did not go. as also up Allaguash Stream for 

 a mile, many small trout covdd be caught. 



Frequently our little party divided, each man with his 

 guide, going off to spend the day as best suited his fancy 

 or desire, to become familiar with the suriounding 

 country. Back in camp again at evening after the 

 bountiful supper was over, and the great camp-fire 

 brightly burning, resting under the shelter of the tent, 

 in the light of blazing pine and birch, we enjoyed the 

 campers' social hour. At such times the conversation 

 turns mostly to subjects of the woods, and serves to por- 

 tray the hardships, pleasure and humor of life in the 

 wilderness. Said Kedman, "I have seen many times of 

 suffering from cold and hunger, been often in positions 

 of danger in my canoe and on the lumber chive, but only 

 once did I thiuk my time had come. I was away back 

 alone one winter, trapping on the head streams of the 

 West Branch, when at a point fifteen miles from any 

 house, in making a sable trap my knife slipped and cut 

 a gash in my arm, going almost* to the bone. The blood 

 started in such a stream as when a deer's throat is cut. 

 I did not know how to stop it. and if it was not stopped 

 quickly I knew I should die. Well, I found when I 

 doubled up my arm the wound closed and the bleeding 

 stopped, so I took my rifle by the barrel with the stock 

 over my shoulder so as to keep the wounded arm bent, 

 and I never changed it till I reached the house late that 

 night. I tell you boys, that was a long trail and I kind 

 of lost my head along toward the last, and did not go 

 straight, and sometimes I had to stop and lean againstTa 

 tree till I could get more strength, but I thought of the 

 folks at home, how they would be looking for me to 

 come out of the woods pretty soon, and I hung to the 

 rifle and got through." 



Said Henderson, "A party comes to Moose River every 

 year from down in Connecticut. Tbey hire a lot of guides 

 and leave a mess of money with our folks. They never 

 kill any thing of much account, but we look out to take 

 along plenty to eat, and always have a good time. This 

 year they came in July, and started up the river. My 

 man had been there about twenty times and knew all 

 about the country. He kept telling the others what big- 

 trout they would get at Adean Falls, but when we 

 reached there none of them could catch any. My man 

 caught a shiner, and he was fishing with that hooked on 

 a fly, yet there did not seem to be any trout around. He 

 had a new split-bamboo rod, reel and line. The trim- 

 mings of the rod were silver-plated, and it was as pretty 

 a rig as ever went along in my canoe. After he had tried 

 the shiner a while, he laid the rod down on the rocks to 

 light a cigar. Well, the wind blew a little fresh up the 

 stream, so he stepped back behind, a big rock. When lie 

 had his cigar going good he went to take up the rod, but 

 there wasn't any rod there; it was away down the stream, 

 just going over the last fall into Adean Lake. Some big 

 trout had come along, taken that shiner, line, rod and 

 all, and the whole rig is somewhere in Adean Lake now. 

 My man was trying to fix it up with the others not to say 

 anything at home about how he lost his rod. They were 

 a temperance party; did not any of them ever drink any- 

 thing; but he divided up all the cigars he had, agreed to 

 do all the cooking for the p ar ty and not fish any more 

 with bait, and they all promised to keep still." 



In his book "Paddle and Portage," an account of a trip 

 from Moosehead Lake to Caribou by way of the Penob- 

 scot, Allaguash and Arrostock rivers, Mr. Steele makes 

 extended mention of his Indian guide John Nickolas. 

 This man was known as one of most intelligent of the 

 Oldtown Indians, and was wonderfully expert in wood- 

 craft. Three or four years since he was at the house at 

 the Penobscot end of the Northwest Carry. Here he quar- 

 reled over a game of cards. Heated by whisky and gam- 

 bling, maddened by bitter words he left the house. In the 

 darkness of the night he stealthily sought a window from 

 which he could look in on the man against whom his In- 

 dian nature was filled with hatred. From his place in 

 the darkness, unseen and his presence unsuspected, he 

 fired through the glass, killed the man, and fled. Soon . 

 his canoe was on the waters of the Penobscot, and he fled 

 away to the great northern wdderness where no officers ! 

 of the law could ever find him. From that time to this 

 day John Nickolas has never been seen in the settlements. 1 



Yet the settlers say each fall his two sons go down the 

 Penobscot and north with two canoes loaded with pro- 

 visions, and in a few weeks return with a great quantity 

 of furs, carrying to their father a y ear's supply of pro- 

 visions and bringing out his year's catch of furs. The 

 woodsmen believe that it is somewhere on a tributary of 

 the, St. John River that the Indian lives his isolated life. 

 The loneliness of its solitude is broken only by the com- 

 ing of his faithful boys once a year. Long winters the 

 old man passes alone, many miles from human habita- 

 tion, fearing the sight of man more than any beast of the 

 forest, the memory of his crime always with him, and 

 naught to look forward to but death. What secrets of 

 the wilderness may he not have discovered in these years 

 of exile in its remotest parts? 



When the camp-fire was burning low, the jiipes gone 

 out, each rolled his blanket about him and slept. While 

 we sleep a little deer comes along the sandy beach; 

 daintily he steps, until coming to the path that leads to 

 our tent he smells the fire, then he quickly springs back 

 and away to safer grounds. Then a fox picks his way 

 down the shore looking for his late supper. He, too, 

 sniffs the tainted air and is away. After them a mink 

 both bold and sly approaches the camp. He cares not 

 for the smell of fire, but proceeds to examine the state of 

 the camp's larder. First he finds a plump partridge 

 ready dressed for the broiler, a fine spotted trout of 21bs. 

 weight also, and a lake trout to match, with six small 

 trout to suit a dainty taste. One by one he drags all 

 these to the water and floats them away to some secure 

 retreat of his own. We knew all this, for each had 

 registered his name and action on the smooth sands of 

 the beach. For the morrow's breakfast a smoked fish 

 took the place of fried trout and broiled partridge, and 

 the cook thereafter stored his game on the top of the 

 smoke house. F. T. 



Phovxdence, Khode Island. 



[TO be continued.] 



RAISING CANARY BIRDS. 



CANARIES can be bred to greater advantage in a room 

 of moderate size than in ordinary breeding cages, 

 which are too small, not allowing space for flight and 

 exercise, without which strong and healthy birds can- 

 not be raised. Room breeding also offers pleasant, profit- 

 able and attractive employment for both young and old, 

 and birds thus raised are more sprightly and tuneful 

 than those raised in small cages. 



In selecting the breeding room choose one near the top 

 floor of the dwelling facing the south, if possible, though 

 any light, quiet and airy room will suit the purpose. The 

 walls and ceiling should be kept well whitewashed and 

 great care taken to keep out rats and vermin of all kinds. 



The frames of the windows on the outward sides should 

 be covered with wire netting, the mesh of which must be 

 small that the birds cannot get then heads between the 

 wires, as in such event, in the struggle to get free they 

 would be likely to injure, perhaps strangle themselves. 

 To admit proper ventilation and air in fine and warm 

 weather, cords and pulleys should be attached to the 

 window sashes, so as to raise or lower them at will. A 

 table or shelf should be placed witliin easy reach of the 



lit OSS. 



door of the breeding room on which to place the food, etc., 

 to avoid as much as possible disturbing the birds when 

 setting on the nests. Use nest boxes made of tin with 

 small holes in the bottoms (these may be found at the 

 bird stores), Sew together several layers of linen cloth 

 to fit the bottom of the nest box, and fasten in place so 

 the birds may not become entangled; do not use cotton 

 as this is more likely to harbor vermin. Frames should 

 be made in which the nest boxes should be hung; for 

 size and form see accompanying illustration. The frames 

 should be made of smooth planed boards, one-quarter 

 inch thick, open back and front, top and bottom boarded, 

 the top or roof to incline forward with a pitch so steep as 

 not to allow the birds to rest on it, and thus prevent the 

 females being disturbed when nesting. A perch should 

 be placed across each frame a short distance in front of 

 the nest boxes (see illustration), two of which, one on 

 each side, should be firmlv hung inside the frames. The 

 frames should be hung by hooks one on each side and 

 fastened to the wall (so as not to shake or sway, as this 

 might cause the female to leave her eggs unhatched), 

 about five feet from the floor, so as to be easily reached. 

 Deer's hair, which should be well scalded to cleanse it 



