326 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[May 15, 1890. 



IMMUTABLE. 



THE old man sat on an empty soap box, slowly wind- 

 ing a waxed string around the fractured butt of a 

 fishing rod. The porch, overhead profusely covered with 

 a luxuriant creeper, ran each side of the door and had 

 for flooring puncheons laid directly upon the ground. 

 On one side of the door stood a rough bench with a bat- 

 tered tin pail with the neck of a long gourd, used for a 

 dipper, just sticking up over the rim. On the other side, 

 just over the old man's head, hung a banjo, which, judged 

 by its looks, was not kept for ornament alone. The little 

 boy stood by the old man's side watching almost impa- 

 tiently every movement of the sable fingers as they 

 slowly repaired his misfortune. 

 "Got it most done, haven't you, Uncle Thuse?" 

 ''Yes, honey, mos' dun; doan yer go bruck um agin, 

 Marse F'od, kase ef yer do it's dun gone pass anuder 

 mendin'." 



"I'll let the next snake go without hitting him," said 

 the boy. 



"You's got ter, honey, else fish wid a cut pole," re- 

 plied the old man. 



"What makes you always say 'got ter,' Uncle Thuse?"' 



"Why: Marse F'od, got ter, deys der strongest words 

 dat yer can fine in dat big book in ole Marsc's lib'ry, 

 what's cotched um all for der white foks ter pick outer. 

 Now, deres yer rod and took keer of um. Wait a minit, 

 honey, ise gwine ter gib yer a touch of der ole Cremony 

 and tell yer all about dat ar 'got ter'." 



The old man rose from the box and took down the 

 banjo, and after tightening a string here and there, put 

 one foot on the box, and with a preliminary flourish, 

 struck up a broken sort of a chant, not unmelodious, as 

 follows: 



Co'n cob iu er pile, got er meat ter smoke; 

 Hick'ry stick a-stannin' dar, got er fire ter poke. 

 Ole dog blinkin' in der sun, got er coon ter tree, 

 Danderlion by der paff, got ter feed er bee. 

 Der growin' co'n jus' sliowin' silk, got er crow ter feed, 

 End er baccer fiel' a-leafen out, nigger got ter weed. 

 Der cberry tree cotton wbite, got ter bear der fruit, 

 Shotes a-ruiinin' roun' der swamp, it's shore deys got ter root. 

 Der highest buzzard in der sky has got tor drap ter feed, 

 Ef yer want gyardeu truck yer've got ter plant der seed. 

 Watermillions gittin' ripe, got ter watch 'em close, 

 Little chicking f ryin' size, it's high deys got ter roos'. 

 When Marse Gabrel bio's er horn, got ter com' ter time, 

 To der mansion in der sky got er sta'r ter clime. 

 Theold'man finished, hung up the banjo in its place by 

 the door, and without a word passed down the path to 

 the creek, with the little boy by his side carrying the re- 

 paired rod. Fred. R. Shattuck. 

 Boston. 



ANGOSTURA.— I. 



THE Mexican Central Railway has completed its 

 branch from San Luis Potosi to Tampico. Regular 

 trains will be running in a few weeks. This is the 

 second road connecting the Gulf with the central plateau, 

 which, in spite of its dryness and general forbidding 

 aspect, is and will continue the chief home of the Mext 

 can people and the center of their commerce. A rail- 

 way which establishes communication between this 

 plateau and the outer world by the highway of the sea 

 is hardly less than an epoch in the country's history. 

 Connection with the Pacific Ocean has not yet been 

 made. We are to have on April 21 a grand demonstra- 

 tion over the inauguration of our new road, the President 

 of the Republic being engaged to attend. Mexico loves 

 a fiesta of whatever class. But as somebody might ac- 

 cuse me of having real estate to "boom," should I con- 

 tinue to tell of the commercial importance of this recent 

 enterprise, I will come more directly to my story. 



Fabulous accounts had long been given me of the game 

 to be found along the line of this road, and I was of 

 course rather excited. Construction trains were running 

 some twenty-five miles from here, going out and coming 

 in daily. I had for some time been looking for a loop- 

 hole in my daily tasks, when a friend invited me to go 

 with him down near "the front" to an hacienda on £ 

 hunting trip. Thinking I could spare two days I agreed 

 Then, in order to make the trip a little more complete, 1 

 said two and a half. Mr. Hampson, son of the chief con- 

 tractor, and in charge of the work, kindly supplied us 

 with passes. The party consisted of Mr. C, a Mexican 



fentleman, Principal of the State Military and Technical 

 chool, familiarly known (after the manner of Mexico) 

 as "Don Ramon;" an Anglo-Spanish dentist and his wife, 

 Mrs. E., who is an American, and your scribe, who, not 

 withstanding his name, is an ordinary American citizen. 

 I must not forget either the good-humored, faithful 

 "mozo," of Don Ramon, with a name so odd that, though 

 I listened attentively whenever it was called, I could 

 not make it out. 



Having loaded one coach with guns and baggage the 

 four principals bestowed themselves in another, 'and 

 after a little maneuvering with a balkv horse were 'off in 

 search of that train. As carrying passengers was not its 

 business, it did not occupy a prominent stand by the side 

 of the station. Still, we did find it. While waiting for 

 a start we learned from the conductor that we should 

 have to change from his train to another to reach our 

 destination, and that to get back the second day it would 

 be necessary to start almost immediately on our arrival 

 We promptly cut this gordian knot by deciding to stay 

 four days instead of two; and dispatching a boy with 

 note to the little wife, we settled down to our fun, posi 

 tively declining to hear from our conscience on the sub 

 ject of neglected work. Expecting to start at 1 o'clock 

 we finally got off at 3:30 P. M, The sun was warm and 

 the dust awful. Our little bobtail caboose was full and 

 more, as there were a number of passengers besides the 

 train men. Baggage was put out on a "flat" loaded with 

 rails, however, and we were fairly comfortable. There 

 were a dozen or fifteen cars loaded with building material 

 ahead of us. At every switch some changes had to 

 made, and the engineer was more speedy than gentle m 

 his movements. We could hear the approaching rattle of 

 the 'slack when started or stopped, and gripping the 

 seats and setting our teeth would hold on for life 

 Toward sunset wo reached the top of the sierra which 



is one of the backbones separating the central plateau 

 from the slopes of the Gulf. While standing here an 

 obstreperous Texas norther that had trespassed on Mexi- 

 can territory began to whisk its tail in our faces. Fol- 

 lowing the cool breeze came a rolling huge mass of fog, 

 and the change from the dry, crisp air behind us was 

 delicious. This mountain range serves as a barrier against 

 the moisture of the Gulf, nearly all of it being precipi- 

 tated on the eastern side. The lines maybe distintly 

 noted in the vegetation. A similar change may be seen 

 in crossing the Cascade range in Oregon, or, on a smaller 

 scale, the Coast range in California. Seeingthe setting 

 sun behind us we at last started down, it is a long, 

 winding 3 per cent, grade, and the cars had only hand- 

 brakes. The train hands were evidently a little nervous, 

 and the chief brakeman, a long, big-footed, blue-eyed 

 negro, would work off his excitement occasionally by 

 dancing a shuffle by the side of his wheel. We went 

 down safely, however, enjoying (some of us, at least) the 

 scenery, which, though not bold, is pretty and interest- 

 ing. While on a long stretch of a lighter down grade 

 and running about 30 miles an hour we had an exciting 

 episode. One of the wheels under a flat car loaded with 

 rails broke square into two pieces. It did not leave the 

 track, but at every revolution made the car jump as if 

 running on the ties. The negro, who was sitting on a 

 bale of telegraph wire just behind the broken car, tore 

 through the caboose yelling with fright and actually pale. 

 The engineer went careering serenely on, and we expected 

 momentarily to go into the ditch in the undesirable com- 

 pany of two or three carloads of steel rails. Presently 

 somebody uncoupled the caboose and we put on the brakes 

 and slowed up. It was down grade, and we followed at 

 our leisure, soon overtaking the train which had stopped. 

 We patched up and pulled into the next station. 



There we changed trains. That is, our engine and 

 caboose stopped and a new engine without a caboose 

 took charge of the train. We disposed of ourselves and 

 baggage on top of the rails and telegraph wire. It was 

 dark and raining a little, but we were jolly. We adjusted 

 ourselves to boxes, bundles, etc., and covered ourselves 

 with blankets and shawls. The crippled car went to 

 pieces and blocked the track ahead of us. We had to 

 move ourselves around it to another "fiat." Bundles, 

 valises and guns, especially the latter, were carefully 

 transferred. Mrs. E. was merriest of all. She actually 

 liked to ride with steel rails for cushions, and wasn't the 

 rain just "jolly?" We pottered along at a snail's pace 

 for another hour. Here we found the hacienda coach 

 waiting for us, with a ride of ten miles still in view. The 

 train rumbled slowly on, and Don Ramon, breaking into 

 his best English, waved his hand from the coach and 

 said, "I am ver' happee to see you go!" 



It should be explained here that we were invited by 

 Don Ramon on the strength of a life-long intimacy with 

 the family to whom the hacienda belongs. The place 

 itself is a very large and wealthy one, bo Targe that I do 

 not dare give its dimensions. A young man of the family, 

 whom we soon came to know and esteem as "Don Luis," 

 has charge of the hacienda and fives there alone) the rest 

 of the family living in the city. We reached the "big 

 house" finally at 1:30 A. M., tired and sleepy and still 

 merry. We were glad, however, to get out of the lonely 

 night wind and spend the rest of the night sleeping com^ 

 fortably indoors. * AzfEC. 



"A LIGHT IN THE WINDOW." 



MUCH reading of FOREST ANb Stream and its many 

 interesting stories of adventure, not founded on 

 romance, but drawn from the actual circumstances of 

 life, reminds me that I too have had some experiences in 

 roughing it over mountain and in forest; and perhaps an 

 account of one of the incidents may prove of interest. 

 For there must be others who, like me, look forward to 

 nothing with more pleasure than an outing in the wilds 

 with rod and gun, where the grub cooked by yourself and 

 companions, if it would not do to serve up at a fashion- 

 able summer resort, has a flavor and toothsomeness, born 

 of much exercise, that can never be appreciated by the 

 scented and kid-gloved darlings of society who have 

 neither the sand nor the good sense to renew their vigor 

 by such laborious pleasures. 



I had passed the spring and summer of 1880 in the 

 vicinity of Tin Cup, in Gunnison county, Colorado, hunt- 

 ing, fishing, prospecting and working for "grub stakes;" 

 and in the latter part of August started with my partner, 

 Nathan J. Conover, of Freehold, N. J., for a tramp south- 

 ward. We were both of us "tenderfeet," but had been 

 in the mountains long enough to get our bearings pretty 

 well; and with a good jack to carry our camping outfit, 

 tools and effects, and with gun on shoulder, we footed it 

 along by easy stages, camping when we found good places 

 for grazing for the jack and prospects of fair hunting 

 and fishing, until we finally located in Ouray, at that 

 time a thriving mining town on the borders of the Ute 

 reservation. 



Here we stayed until late in October, when I was re- 

 minded in a very painful manner that this was a bad 

 part of the country for me to pass the winter in. It be- 

 gan to rain one night, and before morning the rain had 

 turned to snow, and before it stopped snowing the snow 

 was four feet deep on the level. This snow was to me a 

 deadly enemy, as I found. I had frozen my feet terribly 

 in crossing the Cotton Wood Pass from Buena Vista to 

 Hillerton (now Abbeyville) in the preceding March, and 

 a3 soon as I went out into the snow my feet began to 

 sting and burn, until it seemed they were afire, and I 

 was obliged to take to the cabin. The snow did not last 

 long this time, but I knew it would soon come to stay, 

 and I did not intend to let it find me there. By walking 

 over the range to Lake City, I could save about $15 of 

 stage fare, and as a thirty-five-mile tramp was nothing 

 to me at that time and the money was, I determined to 

 be economical. So Nate and I and Frank Carney, of 

 Ouray, started out one fine Sunday morning, Carney to 

 go to a point where a trail called the Bear Creek Trail 

 left the regular one, which would considerably shorten 

 my route. Nate was to go with me to the top of the 

 range, and by carrying my "grip" for that distance, 

 lighten my journey. 



Neither ot us had been over this trail, and so shortly 

 after we struck snow, as we did after getting up a couple 

 of thousand feet, we lost the trail and soon found our- 

 selves wallowing through snow 3 or 4ft. deep. There 

 were but two things to do; either go back or make 

 directly for the top of the range where the snow is always 

 light, the wind blowing it off from the ridges, After an 



almost interminable climb we got to the top and followed 

 the ridge around to where the trail must cross. It then 

 being too late for Nate to go back alone, he determined 

 to go on to a little town some distance down the moun- 

 tains where we could both stay all night, and then he 

 could return next day. He was a tall, powerful fellow, 

 considerably over 6ft. in height, broad-shouldered and 

 lathy, and looked as if he could stand more hardship 

 than a dozen ordinary men; but he was young — not yet 

 twenty, and age had not, as it proved, hardened his 

 strength to that toughness that only comes with years. 



It was late in the afternoon when we crossed the range, 

 and we hurried on, for we knew we had a hard struggle 

 before we got down through the snow, and were both 

 tired. We started up a couple of bighorn sheep just 

 after we had started downward, but what would have 

 made my heart jump at any other time hardly stopped 

 me now,' for I could see that Nate was giving out. I was 

 carrying all the load, and often lightened myself by start- 

 ing the grip rolling down a steep incline, when it would 

 go hundreds of feet before stopping. A orust that had 

 frozen on the snow during the latter part of the after- 

 noon made it all the harder for us, for it was not strong 

 enough to hold us up and broke through at every step. 

 Just before dark Nate gaA^e up entirely and sat down in 

 the snow. I tried to get him to come on, but he said he 

 had to rest. Then I tried to build a fire, but there was 

 nothing near us but sage bush , and the dead bushes seemed 

 all soggy and wet, and I failed entirely. I finally got 

 Nate up, and with one of liis arms over my shoulder, in 

 my desperation I almost carried him a mile further, 

 when I saw that this could not last, I would soon be as 

 badly off as he was. Again I tried to kindle a fire, but this 

 failed, and I was about to give up in despah, when I saw 

 way ahead of us down the mountain a light, twinkling. 

 It was stationary, and knowing there must be some one 

 there, I covered Nate, now unconscious, with my over- 

 coat and struck out for it. 



It was a terrible struggle, but I finally reached the 

 light, which I found shone from a window in a large 

 rough board shanty, built for the accommodation of a 

 force of men engaged in building a smelter or some other 

 building. As soon as I could tell my story half a dozen 

 of them started back on my trail, and in the course of a 

 couple of hours Nate was stretched on a bed made upon 

 the floor close by the stove. He got up in the morning a 

 little stiff, but otherwise none the worse for his exposure, 

 but could remember nothing of our trip from a point 

 shortly after we crossed the range. He did not try to 

 return by the Bear Creek Trail, but took the old one, 

 which, if it was several miles longer, had the advantage 

 of a beaten track. 



The thought sometimes comes to me now, what would 

 I have done if the window had been left out of that side 

 of the shanty? And a queer sinking of the heart always 

 follows, for I could not have deserted my comrade. 



J. M. R. 



THE WOODS AND THE WATERS. 



Editor Forest and Stredih! * 



I do not know who selected the title which has Stood 

 at the head of your columns for so many years, to fe* 

 joice the hearts of all true lovers of nature* but whoever 

 did it, my friend Chas. Hallock or "any other man/' 

 "builded wiser than he knew." Not only in the field of 

 outdoor spof t, btlt in their economical relations to the 

 industries Of mankind ate the two inseparable, and the 

 stream depends on the forest for its steady flow. 



As I have begun by talking about Mew -Hampshire, I 

 I will stick to my text, though all New England and 

 northern New York are in the same category with Us in 

 this matter and the forests of the Adirondacks are as 

 much needed to keep up the water supply of the Hud- 

 son, as are those of New Hampshire for the Merrimac. 

 It is a safe estimate to say that one third of the popula- 

 tion of New Hampshire are supported by her water power, 

 and if all the small industries were carefully counted in, 

 it would not surprise me if it reached nearly one-half. 

 The last census gave us nearly or a little more than 

 350,000 people. Now on the Merrimac River we can 

 count: Manchester 45,000, Nashua 15,000, Sancook 3,000, 

 Laconiaand Lake Village 6,000, Franklin 3,000, Tilton 

 1,000, Fisherville 2,000, and Bristol 1,500, making 76,500 on 

 the Merrimac River alone, and these are probably under 

 the number of inhabitants to-day. 



Then we have on the Cocheco and Salmon Falls River: 

 Dover 15,000, Great Falls 6,000, Salmon Falls 2,000, mak- 

 ing about 100,000, and when the smaller towns on the 

 Connecticut watershed are added, and such towns as 

 Exeter, Peterboro, Keene, etc 7 scattered all over the 

 State, we are going to pass the llS,000 required for a third 

 of the population. Besides all this the waters of the Mer- 

 rimac are used twice over again in Massachusetts, at 

 Lowell and at Lawrence, with 120,000 people more, and 

 those of the Connecticut do double duty at Turner's Falls 

 and Holyoke. Having spent a large part of my active 

 life on the Merrimac River, going there in 1841 to study 

 mechanics practically, in the same way that Mr. Squeers' 

 pupils studied botany, I know something of the fluctua- 

 tions of that river, which are very great, although owing 

 to the use of Lakes Winnepe3aukee and Squam as storage 

 reservoirs, they are not so marked as they now are on the 

 Connecticut, to the banks of which I have returned after 

 many years' absence. When Lowell was begun, its pro- 

 jectors expected to utilize about 9,000 constant horse 

 power, which by improved dams and wheels has since 

 been increased to 10,000, and after that was used up 

 steam has been called in to aid, but such are the variations 

 of the waterflow, that the mills are sometimes operated 

 by 9,000 horse power of water and 19,000 horse power of 

 steam, and sometimes the reverse or 19,000 horse power of 

 water and 9,000 of steam, and both engines and wheels 

 are provided for each contingency. 



There are a few days every spring when the deluge of 

 water, from the hills now stripped of their forest cover- 

 ing, drowns all the wheels and leaves the mills dependent 

 on such power as they can get from their engines; but 

 the great reservoir system to which I have alluded tends 

 to equalize the flow very much, and I do not notice the 

 great summer shrinkage which I find in the Connecticut 

 on my return to my native town. 



Here, when I was a boy fifty or sixty years ago, the 

 river seemed full for weeks of great pines, floating leis- 

 urely down from the region about Haverhill and Lancas- 

 ter; and great rafts of sawed lumber, built in "boxes," as 

 they were called, so as to be taken to pieces to pass 

 through the locks at Bellows. Falls, arid Hadley, came 



