96 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Aug. 4, 1894. 
ON THE NORTH SHORE OF LAKE SUPERIOR. 
CConcluded from Page 75,) 
The morning revealed a threatened storm, the clouds 
being in dark, vaporous form, and the wind tossing the 
seas in no gentle mood. A departure was not thought of 
with such gloomy indications, and we therefore possessed 
our souls with as much patience as we possibly could, and 
sat down to our breakfast with anything but smiling 
countenances. We were not disheartened by any means, 
but as the home fever had struck the entire camp we were 
not as well pleased as was Mistress Mary with her garden 
"Of cockle shells and silver bells, 
And cow-slips all arow." 
About an hour after breakfast the boys, who had been 
down to the point watching the course of the wind, came 
back and stated that with a little tacking they thought 
they could make Gros Cap Island, so we gave the word to 
immediately load and dej>art. The dismantling of camp 
and loading was quickly accomplished, for the bright 
vision of home was ever before our boatmen now that we 
were advancing that way, and it was the incentive that 
Bpurred them on to greater activity and greater risks. 
"All aboard," rang out cheerily from the intrepid Peter 
as the last load was snugged away and aboard we hur- 
riedly got, and then the sails were unfurled and thrown to 
the stiff breeze, and off the boat darted, tossing the thick 
foam in savage glee from her dipping bow. 
When we were well out of the bay and around the point 
where the wind and seas had a clean sweep at us, I was 
satisfied we would not reach Gros Cap Island that day. 
The weather had a very hard and severe look; the sky 
was o'ercast with low, dingy and swift flying clouds; the 
racing waves, with a wild and jubilant song violently 
battered the fretted crags, while the boat, with her lee 
gunwale but a trifle above the surging waters, creaked 
from bow to stern as she stood out for her first tack. 
After half an hour's earnest battling with the snow-capped 
waves the wind, which had been in the east when we 
started, had changed to the south, making it a head wind 
to strive against. Ned stated that it would now be im- 
possible to reach our destination before night, and that 
we had better take a "long leg" with the boat and make 
for Goulais Bay. Here was disappointment indeed, for 
after entering this bay we might be cooped up there for 
days, for it is a very unfavorable location from which to 
put to sea. A party of anglers were detained here last 
season for five days waiting for a favoring breeze in which 
to sail out of the bay. As it seemed the best thing to do 
justtien, Peter ran the boat over pitiless seas with the 
feathery foam flying from her cut-water as if she were 
breasting roaring rapids. Ned silently and solemnly sat 
in the stern, bundled up in his great overcoat, for the 
chilly air necessitated such a course, while I was braced 
with my back against the center mast and my feet on the 
gunwale, having on my mackintosh as a protection 
against the rising spray. Kenosh, with a "devil may 
care" air, had spread himself lengthwise on the windward 
side on top of some boxes and bundles, while Peter was 
at the rudder with a disappointed air, thinking doubtless 
of his approaching wedding and his far away betrothed at 
the "Soo." 
There was no music whatever in our party, the gloomy 
weather having doubtless disheartened us all. In a fierce 
tempest, as per the immortal bard, Ferdinand and 
Miranda fall deeply in love, plight their troth, bill and coo, 
and gamble at chess, but we were like pouting school 
boys kicking against a little elemental disturbance, acting 
really as if we were in full accord with the surging sea 
and the sullen clouds in the shuddering sky. I tried 
hard to arouse Ned to a melodious strain, and after his 
warbling a little nursery song of 
"There she goes, as sweet as a rose, 
All dressed up in her Sunday clothes," 
relapsed again into solemn silence. I even tried to coax 
a romance from Peter, but it was a flat failure, and as for 
Kenosh he was always dumb except when an opportune 
time permitted him to bring out his old chestnut, "No 
fliee on him." I finally abandoned all my efforts of 
arousing them to a social temperament and so joined 
forces with the sea king and applauded the wild melody 
Of the wailing winds and tossing seas, watched the drift- 
ing clouds and the white-winged gulls as they flew over 
the crested waves, and thus drew solace while the others 
were silently absorbed.' 
After we had gone about two miles toward forming 
that "long leg," the question was put to Peter as to its 
culmination. "One mile more," said he, "and we can 
make the bay like a flash." The mile was soon completed 
and then to our great surprise he informed us that it 
would be utterly impossible to make a landing in the bay 
with the high seas that were then so grandly rolling in. 
"What's to be done then ?" we inquired. 
"Look ahead, there's Parisian Island but six miles out; 
why not make that and stop there till we have a favor- 
able breeze." 
It seemed to be the best and only thing to do under the 
circumstances, for Gros Cap Island could not be made in 
daylight, and if the wind kept on increasing as it had 
since we left we would soon have a respectable gale that 
would be anything but pleasant to buffet and tack in.' 
''Take her to Paris, then," said Ned, after we had con- 
sulted over the situation. 
And so to the Parisian Island the boat was headed, and 
as the wind for that place was on our beam, we went 
fairly flying over the crested billows with a fulvous mass 
of spume streaming out from the bow that grandly rose 
and gracefully fell into the rolling seas so close in com- 
panionship. 
At last we reached the desired island after an hour or 
more of very uncomfortable and very wet sailing. It was 
a charming camping place and an exceedingly lovely 
island that rose from the sea like a realm of fairyland, so 
beautiful did it appear in its forests of living green. It 
was about three miles long and one or more wide, with its 
north shore in graceful crescent form displaying a low, 
sandy beach, while the south side revealed the exact 
reverse, having a bold and rocky coast line of grand and 
solemn beauty. 
Some thirty years ago the place was the abode of an 
eccentric Frenchman, who, from some eventful cause, 
preferred the lif e of a recluse, his nativity resulting in the 
island obtaining the name it now bears. Captains of ves- 
sels passing oy it always referred to it as the "French- 
man's Island," until finally it received its' more euphoni- 
ous name. The house in which he lived was a, very crude 
log cabin, and years ago had been razed, only a few logs 
remaining, showing where the man of solitude, and per- 
haps of sorrow, abided. The woods are dense and the 
groves peopled with a few varieties of birds, of which a 
number are very beautifully plumaged. They appeared 
in high glee when we landed, filling the air with their 
delicious notes of melody and anon darting through the 
whispering branches and into the darkling woods be- 
yond. 
The waters fairly swarm with lake trout and whitefish 
of large proportions, and were the principal source of 
revenue to the Selkirk of this isolated realm. Caribou 
were also said to abound here in years agone, Peter telling 
us of his having taken part in killing one, to all of which 
recital we gave unmeasured latitude. 
Concluding to do a little exploring now that we had 
ample time, we aimlessly wandered around, and the more 
we saw of this beautiful island the more we were delighted 
with it. 
"If the brook trout were only here," said Ned, "it would 
be an ideal place for anglers." 
But they were not here, and the charms of the island 
were, therefore, not at a heavy premium with us. 
We were called from our rambles by the tawny-hued 
Kenosh, who had sought us and who gravely stated that 
a smoking hot dinner awaited us at the beaeh. It was 
welcome news, for our long walk had given our appe- 
tite an edge that foreboded disaster to the smoking 
viands. 
After dinner there was a decided manifestation of the 
wind letting down, and then a rif t in the clouds gave us 
some golden shafts, and soon the blue increased, until 
finally the heavens were in a fervent glow and all nature 
rejoicing. 
About 2 o'clock the wind had died out and then the lake 
became placid, save the rolling swell from the blow of the 
morning. The boatmen, at this favorable condition of 
the weather, took it upon themselves to load the boat 
without any conference with us, and then shouted, "All 
aboard!" We, however, were in accord with the boys, 
but a good ten or twelve-mile row was before them, and 
under a blazing sun that was fiercely pouring down. The 
home influence was again apparent, for after starting 
they industriously worked at the blades, with the per- 
spiration dropping from their flushed faces at every 
stroke, and as if their very lives depended on their exer- 
tions. I really believe they rowed fully five miles with 
only a single halt, and that for a cup of water. They 
were both in good humor and chatted and laughed as 
they plied the oars, while Ned was in his favorite role, of 
troubadour with little cessation. I helped the merriment 
along with what I thought an amusing narrative or two, 
and Ned, who was a wonderful dialect mimic, also fell 
into the same line. Peter received many a good-natured 
joke about his approaching wedding, and also many 
timely bits of advice in matrimonial duties, until the wily 
Kenosh remarked: 
"This his third wife." 
"What you giving it away for?" said Peter, somewhat 
angrily. 
"What it matter? It so." 
Ned and I drew off as if a bomb had exploded in our 
immediate vicinity, feeling satisfied that the matrimonial 
Peter had been too much married to need further counsel 
from us. 
After we had retired from the field the two half-breeds 
went at it, shovel and tongs, in French and Chippewa, to 
settle the little development that had so inadvertently 
been made. It was a long time before the quarrelsome 
jargon ceased, as both of them clung tenaciously to the 
subject. 1 was positive it had left a deep sting with 
Peter, and that the firm would be dissolved on reaching 
the Soo. I much preferred Kenosh to Peter, for he was 
sincerity itself, and never tried to feed our fancy with 
fairy tales. 
We were nearing the shore and would soon be passing 
over what used to be considered excellent trouting 
grounds. Ned, concluding to make a few casts as we 
went by it, commenced putting his rod together, but I 
simply played the role of "a mere looker-on in Venice," 
being satisfied from the smoothness of the lake and the 
terrible gill-netting tbe place had received from the semi- 
barbarians of the coast, that it would be a rarity indeed 
if a trout rose under such conditions. 
Ned was ready when the rocks were reached, and let- 
ting his flies fall where a sunbeam was peeping into a 
chasm, commenced his first flutter, but had to lift his lures 
from the windless lake without a response. Again and 
again they fell and arose with the some result, and then 
the boatmen slipped easily along to another tempting 
sp it. It was by an overhanging rock that threw a deep 
"nade upon the water, and here his flies were worked with 
the same persistency, and once more he was without a 
victim. Not a bit discouraged, the veteran rodster, with 
the bright sun silvering his snowy locks, hopefully ad- 
vances in the domain of the scarlet Hebes. This time he 
halts by some huge rocks at random thrown, which loot 
up to savage crags that are flushed with the radiant sun, 
and again endeavors to coax some sunset beauty from hie 
lurking place; but as well coax a mermaid from her 
crimson shell mirror as to here induce any golden fin to 
ripple the gleaming surface. 
"It's too bad," said the disappointed angler, "but I'll 
try again," and once more the boat glides serenely along, 
passing some impressive types of gray and jagged-teethed 
rocks which the grinding ice and battling waves have 
been sculpturing for ages. At last he thinks he has found 
their try sting plac« by a crag that boldly runs into the 
lake, disclosing protecting ledges where the violet-splashed 
and jewel-dotted dandies could easily dart out for unsus- 
pecting prey. With a gleam of hope he sends the 
feathered lures to the ragged edges, but no speckled 
monster, or even infant beauty, is there to investigate the 
disturbance above. With a howl of disappointment he 
repeats and repeats the lesson of the lure, but it is to the 
glowing rocks, to the murmuring waters only. ' 'Reel up, 
my old comjpadre, there are no scarlet Romans of the 
rocky chasms or the shelving retreats for you. They 
have gone from the deadly gill net to the greedy hands of 
the market purveyors, and many a Lucullus has ere this 
sounded their gastronomic praises in poetic laudations. 
Reel up, I say; tret not your soul in disappointment, nor 
expend your untiring energies upon the empty air or the 
breathing waters. The trouting days are over here and 
will only live in pleasant history and the memory of those 
who have sported along these shores when the race of the 
tinted innocents were a stranger to the cruel trap work of 
a murderous gill net." 
"Reel up it is; and now a last farewell to the North 
Shore, for by the great 'Horn Spoon!' I solemnly swear 
to never again enter the territory where a Fish Commis- 
sioner is only a man of title and of straw, and where a 
fish dealer tramples on the law with the impunity of a 
remorseless brigand. Shame, I say, on a government 
that will stand idly by and see this picturesque lake daily 
decimated of such beautiful, gamy and toothsome fish!" 
At last we reach Gros Cap Island, and after mounting 
one of its bold bluffs overlooking the spreading landscape, 
are greeted by the rays of a descending sun that fell 
softly upon the sleeping waters. They gave the peaks 
and ridtres a generous shimmer of deliciouR tints that 
paled with the approaching twilight into a lovely purple 
haze; they painted the distant isles into masses of flaming 
scarlet; they deepened the shadows on the western shores 
where the mountain ranges began to tower; they pierced 
with threads of gold the savage ravine and wooded 
expanse; they mellowed the grays of the massive bul- 
warks that frowned down upon our little island; they 
beautified a bit of cliff that had tumbled into the water 
near by with a saffrony surface between the blue of the 
bold headland and the sapphire of the lake; they flooded 
land and lake alike in cloaks of azure and caps of gold; 
they enhanced all they touched with a wealth of color 
that was made superlatively magnificent with the blend- 
ing of purples, emeralds, russets and grays far more rich 
and beautiful than a Leonardo or a Raphael could dream 
into canvas, vividly recalling Watts's "Summer Evening:" 
"How fine the day has been, how brightly was the sun, 
How lovely and joyous the course that he run, 
Though he rose in a mist when his race he begun; 
And there followed some droppings of rain I 
But now the fair traveler's come to the west, 
His rays are all gold, and his beauties are best; 
He paints the skies gay as he sinks to rest, 
And foretells a bright rising again." 
We are fascinated with the charming picture before us, 
but the early morn may present another, while not so 
grand in mountain wall with its chasms and ridges in 
sombre pi nes and solemn evergreens, equally as bright 
and rich in lovely colors, equally as beautiful in clouds of 
gold and seas of silver. 
The shadows spread apace, and when the mild sun "his 
paling lustre shrouds in gorgeous draperies of golden 
clouds," we are reminded of things mundane by a call to 
a royal feast our men of bronze had prepared for us. 
After this the camp-fire is rekindled, "the stars come 
forth to listen to the music of the sea," a cool breeze 
rustles the branches overhead, and, save a mere murmur 
from the water, the silence of the place is like a sleep, so 
full of rest it seems. Ah me! the end of our halcyon days 
on the grand old lake has come at last. We have seen it 
in the fullness of its glory; have seen it in storm and 
calm; have stretched our wearied frame under the 
gloomy mists of its towering mountains; have drunk of 
its fresh and limpid streams; have eaten the luscious 
strawberries of its open stretches and the delicious trout 
from its icy pools; have felt the velvet kisses of its frag- 
rant breezes, and to say adieu at dawn will be like parting 
from an old, old friend. 
Aweary, we at last seek the refreshing bed of balsam, 
and with a prayer for b.ilmy breezes in the morning that 
will give us a delightful sail to the "Soo," are soon in 
"the mystery of folded sleep," and ambitiously dream 
that we have the great key to golden palaces. 
Morning came pure, bright and radiant, with a sky 
darkly, deeply, beautifully blue, and a sea in wondrous 
flame-like glories, rippling in cadences soft and sweet. 
The last meal in nature's leafy realms being liberally 
served, the stanch old boat that had weathered many a 
gale, duly loaded, and then with a sad farewell to the de- 
serted and lovely homes of the brooklet's pearls of tinted 
beauty, we alertly step aboard, and with the white can- 
vas spread wing and wing, are off for the city of the wild 
roaring rapids of wondrous fame; 
Fragrant zephyrs, with the intoxication of new wine, 
flutter o'er the stern, while before us range the fretted 
cliffs, chiseled by the warring hands of time into ragged 
and rugged forms of fantastic architecture, and pleasingly 
surmounted by the soft azure of the receding hills that 
tower in the distance as if 
"Piled by the hands of giants, 
For god like kings of old." 
Soon we reach the aspiring pillars of Hercules, standing 
like grim and stalwart sentinels over the colossal gateway 
of the Great Lake. Passing these with deep and merited 
reverence, we feel that we have departed from a region of 
picturesque grandeur, a region generous in mountain 
majesty, impressive in shores of rocky savagery, rife in 
streams of foaming cascades and pellucid pools, and charm- 
ingly dimpled with islands "the heir of sunset and herald 
of morn." 
I sigh as I finally part from the absolute grandeur of 
this soul-enrapturing scenery, and though we will realize 
some charming views in frames of gold and green along 
the pure and sparkling stream, they willnot command the 
eloquent admiration of that which our vision has so rap- 
turously dwelt upon the past month. 'One is nature in 
bold magnificence and royal splendor, deeply impressive 
with its sublime immensity and awesome wildness; the 
other, upon which we have just entered, is akin to the 
witchery of a pontic romance which steals upon and cap- 
tivates you by its subtle spell. It is like coming from the 
great hills of cloudland, with their iron-bound bases of 
beetling cliffs and ragged crags, into peaceful plains of 
soft velvet meadows, of fruits and flowers, of streamlets 
with their silvery windings, of woodland warblers with 
their arias from golden throats. 
We are again delightfully content, and as we glide 
along, in panor?mic review come banks of verdure richly 
enhanced with many a quiet and pleasing picture. Wav- 
ing grasses and clambering weeds, that fringe the low 
shores, are fanned by the summer breezes and bathed with 
the swell of soughing waves; sylvan haunts, like an 
elysian dream in luxury of color and shade, are here and 
there; rude huts, from which gaze bronzed and stolid 
faces, stand bodily outlined against clustered cedars; the 
lighthouse, dominant like a marble pillar, radiantly flashes; 
the crystalline waters glitter in shafts of silver, while 
trembling shadows from "loafing clouds" of exquisite 
hues slightly darken the sunny reaches with 
"The thin-winged swallow skating on the air," 
