FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Feb. 2|, 1899, 
Vacation on a Way-Back Farm. 
I. : ' I . I i ! * ?i 
Summer came suddenly upon us from a cool spring, 
and the heat was enervating. I went to my office one 
morning and sat at my desk by the open window, too 
listless to work upon the architectural drawing before 
me. Above the desk was a rosewood case with glass 
doors, through which I could see my favorite guns. I 
love a gun as- a small girl loves her doll; and 1 sat and 
looked, and longed to get out of the city to the broad 
country, where 1 could wander at will through woods and 
meadows with gun or fishpole. I opened the pile of let- 
ters on the desk. The bottom one was from a farmer 
in western Maine. When I was a boy, which wasn't 
many years ago, I spent a happy summer with this far- 
mer, and we have exchanged occasional letters ever since.- 
His family then consisted of himself, his wife, two well- 
grown girls and a small boy. The letter ended with: 
''Susan, which is my eldest girl, has moved with her 
family clear over to Mattawaumkeag, and we ain't seen 
nothing of her for nigh two years, and don't hear often. 
Elmiry has got her a man. and was married last Decem- 
ber. She lives over to Oxbow. Almon, he is big as any 
man now, and does most of the work around the farm; 
but we is mighty lonesome. 'Pears to me there ain't 
nothing to liinder your coming down and making us a 
visit. You come, anyhow. . I am goin' down to the vil- 
lage next Friday, and I shall look for you on the morn- 
ing train." 
Why not go? I guess I will go. This is Thursdaj'. 
I'll take to-night's boat to Portland, and the 5 o'clock 
train up the road, and the old fellow won't be disap- 
pointed, after all. To decide was to act. I wiped and 
put away my drawing instruments, closed my desk, and 
took down my new small-caliber rifle. From a drawer in 
the bookcase I took a long list of things necessary to 
convenience and comfort on hunting trips. I made this 
list a little at a time during many years. I am quite likely 
to go oflf on unexpected gunning and fishing trips, and 
by referring to this list I can select just what is neces- 
sary to any especial occasion, and not find, on my arri- 
val, that I am desperately in need ah -something forgot- 
ten. 
II. 
The next morning found me on the train traveling 
northwest from Portland. With great peace and good 
will P watched the passing woods, streams and pastures, 
rich in the light and shade of a sunny summer morning. 
Four or five hours at good speed, with few stops, took 
me to a certain little railway station beside a little village 
clustered upon the high, sandy bank of a river. A delight- 
ed man was my farmer. Merrily we mounted his wagon 
and rattled away. For a mile or so the road runs along a 
sandy valley beside the river. Houses are scattered along, 
some with maple trees in front, some beside clusters of 
red or silver birches. Then commences a four-mile 
climb, uo, continually up, over a roadbed of rolling stones 
and pebbles washed by every freshet. Not a human hab- 
itation the whole way. The great trees meet overhead. 
The hills slope sharply up on one side, down on the 
other. The horse has all he can do to haul the wagon, 
and the farmer and I walk beside. Finally we leave the 
woods for a level space, containing a great farm. We 
stop at the house to leave the mail and to exchange 
hearty greetings. Then onward and into the woods again, 
and upward. A long, hard climb, and the road turns 
around a hi!l. The woods cease, and there before us is 
a small upland valley, clear of trees, a knoll in the middle 
with a collection of low, scattered, farm buildings on it, 
and Iiills. mostly wood-covered, rising all around. Their 
only break is where the road runs in. Down a little 
slope we rattle, cross the brook, go a little further and 
cross it again, and then, looking up, we see the house, 
barn, woodshed and pig house, all apparently gathered 
close together. 
The farmer's wife was at the door to meet us, but the 
boy was too shy, and was waiting in the barn for me to 
make first advances. Many are the delightful, natural 
country people I have lived with, but none so retired, 
quaint and old-fashioned as these. There is no neighbor 
for nearly two mi4es. From there to the next neighbor is 
four miles. A caller during the year is a rarity. The 
farmer's wife is about sixty years old and never has been 
further than twelve miles from this house, where she was 
born. Forty-seven years ago, when the farmer was 
twenty-one years of age, he "went up to Bostin'y " and 
Jlow remembers every incident #f that remarkable ad- 
venture. 
Think of a boy fourteen years oM, man grown, who 
never rode on a railroad, never heard of an electric car, 
never ate nor heard of oysters, lobsters, ice cream, choc- 
olate, or tropical fruits, and can't imagine the sea, a tall 
building, or a theater. Do you say, "What an igno- 
ramus?" Not a bit of it. There never was a more 
agreeable companion than he. He wasn't much of a 
talker, and for a week never said much but "Yes" or 
"No." But what he didn't know about all out-doors 
was hardly worth knowing. Always good-natured, always 
quiet, never tired, we tramped the forest and fields, fished, 
hunted, camped and sketched together. After making 
his acquaintance at the barn I asked him to go to the 
house with me to help me carry my trunk to my room; 
but my secret motive was to make him forget self-con- 
sciousness in curiosity to see my things. I thought his 
tongue would be loosened by questions; but therein I 
was mistaken. He sat and looked with evident interest; 
heard rny explanations about a jointed fishpole, artificial 
flies and rubber worms; handled my rifie with deference; 
smelled my Java coffee and looked amused at the filter 
cofifee-pot, but never opened his mouth. 
Meantime the sun had gone behind the clouds, and 
I proposed that we try to catch some trout for supper. 
We moved a portion of the woodpile and dug him some 
worms — he said "No" to my offer of a rubber one- 
then went to the meadow southwest of the house, where 
a number of deep, bubbling springs gave rise to a brook. 
The brook appeared but a thread among the stubble, but 
Ijyas }Tiysteripus!y wide 9.?i4 ^?^p« fpr it "h^A cut 'beoeatlj 
the sod on each side. Here were abundance of greedy 
trout. Trout are light or dark in color, according to 
whether they live in sunshine or shadow, and dark trout 
are the most beautiful fish in the world. Their backs 
are a very dark, rich brown-black; their sides a trifle 
lighter, with many brilliant, jewel-like spots of bright 
red, surrounded by yellow and light blue; the brown 
background shades to tawny yellow below and then 
blends into flashing silver on the belly. All trout are 
very shy and suspicious, and if the ground shakes, or 
they see the fisherman, or a moving shadow, or the bait 
is out of season, or looks suspicious, Mr. Trout coolly 
and persistently refuses to becohie acquainted with Mr. 
Fisherman. 
We walked quietly and softly to the meadow, where 
we separated by a few hundred feet and approached the 
last looft. to the brook on all fours, taking up and put- 
ting down hand and knee with utmost caution. I felt 
again, as in boyhood, the intoxicating, wild instincts of 
the hunter. The gentle breeze blew in my face, and brought 
to my nostrils the sweet smell of the peppermint and 
spearmint, which trailed its stems in the water. Lying 
on my stomach, I used my utmost skill to fool the wary 
beauties, and was rewarded by occasional struggles with 
strong and desperate fish, trying to escape, or to rub 
off the hook, or break tlie slender line or pole. Out of 
the corner of my eye I could see that Almon, with equal 
skill and a real bait, an alder pole and a stout line, was 
putting two fish into his old burlap bag for one that 
went into my creel. When T hooked a fish I had more fun 
with it than he had with his. for my fish had a chance 
to escape and cripple my fishing apparatus too, and I 
had to put my skill against the fish's to see who should 
be victor. Which would you prefer, more fun or more 
fish? Why not combine both by putting a live bait on 
my hook? There was no other reason than that when 
we went fishing together we caught all that the family 
could eat, and that was enough. We fished down the 
stream to the road, where alders overhung little water- 
falls, dark and quiet pools, and babbling runs, with 
bright pebbles and moss-covered boulders. I watched to 
see if Almon would jerk his fish out and tangle his line 
and dangle his fish on the bushes overhead, and get 
mad and use coimtry swear words. Not he. A little 
motion of the wrist and a slight lifting of the pole suf- 
ficed. 
When, toward evening, we returned to the house, the 
setting sun was sending long bars of light through the 
cloud banks. We set three chairs on the grass by the 
back porch, and while Almon called the hens I put a 
pan of trout in the left-hand chair, an empty pan in the 
right chair, and sat in the middle one, with a board on 
my knees. Around us were three cats, five dogs and a 
hundred or mere hens. Every time a fish head was 
thrown there was a wild rush from all sides converging 
on the bait. The dogs and cats reached it first, hens 
flying, scratching and chucking on top of them in a rough 
and tumble scramble. The hens always finally secured 
the morsel, generally by picking it out of a dog's mouth. 
The dogs and cats were persevering, anu contested as 
gamely for the fiftieth morsel as for the first. I called 
the largest cat and gave her a morsel from my hand. 
Instantly the cat was the center of a struggling mass of 
hens three deep on top of her. The cat rolled on her 
back and scratched for dear life, and the hens made a 
fearful racket. A hen which had been standing by 
dashed in and got the fish head and ran away, followed 
by a string of others. She had to fly to the house top 
to get a chance to eat it. We watched her swallow it 
whole, after many gulps and gasps, and then we went in. 
The large, dim kitchen was a most delightful room at 
night. In the middle of one side was a great open fire- 
place, where a glowing bed of coals Hghted the pots and 
pans set on them, or hanging by hooks or chains from 
a long crane. Beside the fireplace were the iron doors 
of a brick oven. The ceiling vvas but a couple of feet 
above the head, dark with age and smoke, and hung 
around the fireplace with strings of onions and dried 
apples. A long table stood in the middle of the room, 
set for supper. Opposite the fireplace an alcove between 
two large corner cupboards showed two doors leading to 
the family sleeping rooms. The two ends of the room 
had twp windows each, and between the windows of one 
end was the sink. Here the fish were washed and rolled 
in corn meal, and soon we had the pleasure of seeing 
them curl and brown in boiling salt pork fat. Most of 
the good odor went up the chimney. We gathered at 
the table. A small lamp in its middle lit the white cloth, 
and left the rest of the room vague and shadowy. The 
dish of trout passed from hand to hand. We helped our- 
selves from a milk pan heaped high with young string 
beans and peas, crowned by a great lurnp of melting but- 
ter. Corn bread, tea and milk went with them. Then a 
great, steaming bean pot was brought from the brick 
oven, the lid removed, a long handled spoon stuck in, 
and T was helped to the most delicious Indian pudding 
I ever tasted; soft, jelly-like, wheyey, rich and satisfying. 
After supper three of us sat before the fire and two of 
us talked. The farmer's wife was doing the dishes at the 
sink. The farmer sat at my right with his feet on a 
stool, head bent forward, and grizzly beard reaching 
down his vest. Almon sat on an uncomfortable chair 
at the left, heels on the top round, bent forward, with 
hands clasped around his knees. The farmer smoked 
his clay pipe and watched the fire, and talked at it to 
me, and mostly asked questions. The farmer's wife soon 
joined us. We put a fresh stick on the coals and watched 
the ever-changing flames, and talked of the years gone 
by. The farmer told stories of his boyhood. I supposed 
the regiori was then one of bears and wolves and wild- 
cats, but he told me that it was then well dotted with 
farrns. The companions of his boyhood had died or 
moved away; their children had gone to manufacturing 
towns, and the farm lands had merged into his or gone 
into the hands of the great landed proprietor who lived 
next down the road. The farmer's wife soon fell asleep 
in her chair, and I took the hint that these people usu- 
ally retire and rise with the sun. 
111. 
My bed was a great four-poster in the clean-smelling 
spare room at the other end of the house. How delicious 
was the feeling of that crisp, firm, corn-husk , mattress 
viadei" the smoot|i s}ieet, Oiice In the ai^lit i was awalsp- 
ened by the ru.sh of barking dogs past tny window, the 
sound growing fainter in the distance and finally dying 
away down the road. I spoke of it in the morning while 
I was watching Almon iyid his father milking in the 
barn. 
"Might hev be'n a fox, or a coon, or mebbe somethin' 
bigger," said the farmer. "One year we was mighty pes- 
tered with some critter that kept ketchin' our hens an' 
clawin' the cats. My wife got so scared that she didn't 
dare venter outside the door nights. Finally we ketched 
him in a steel trap, an' what do you think it was?" I 
guessed a lynx. "Nope, it was a whoppin' big, black, 
stray tomcat, an' he fit so we smashed the trap tryin' to 
kill him. The curis' thing is, whar he come from. They 
ain't nobody within twenty miles ever had such a cat." 
I had my private suspicions that he didn't always know 
cats from "somethin' bigger." 
A horn sounded from the house. "Breakfast," said 
the farmer. We turned the cattle out into the lane, whose 
low stone walls, overhung by raspberry bushes, and 
shaded on one side by overhanging boughs of apple trees, 
directed them to the forest-girt pasture that occupied the 
hill slopes on all sides except toward the road. Milk pails 
in hand, we repaired to the house. An enormous pew- 
ter coffee-pot stood by my plate. 
"I b'lieve you said you wanted to make your own cof- 
fee," said the housewife. 
"I think I have an improvement on the old method," 
I replied, and brought my nickel apparatus. While all 
stood watching, the coffee was put in the filter, set in the 
pot, boiling water was poured in the strainer and upon 
the coffee, and the apparatus assembled air-tight. 
"I guess you are mighty fond of coffee," said the far- 
mer. 
"I guess so too," I replied, and smiled at the recol- 
lection of the great yellow package the farmer had 
brought from the village and exhibited to his wife with 
the remark: "How much do you suppose I giv' fer 
that?" She looked it all over, read all the printing, 
hefted it, and guessed. Said he: "Fifteen cents, and this 
spoonholder throwed into the bargain." "Let's have that 
kind right along," said she, " and mebbe we'll get some 
dishes." "Then if you don't need the dishes," said I, 
"you can sell them to Elmiry and have the coffee for 
nothing." 
While we were eating breakfast the farmer said: "That 
remark o' yourn yisteddy about sellin' Elmiry the dishes 
an' havin' the coffee for nothin' 'minds me of the way 
Hi Robinson got somethin' fer nothin' out er the store- 
keeper at the village. You 'member Hi, don't you? 
He's kinder slow spoken, 'n' some folks calls him fool- 
ish. One day I was settin' in the store a spell, with a lot 
more, an' in comes Hi. He goes up to Lish, who keeps 
the store, an' takes an egg out o' his pocket an' says: 
'How'll yer swap?' 'Oh, I d'n' kno's I want to swap fer 
one egg,' says Lish, 'what do you want for it?' 'A 
darnin' needle.' 'Well, I'll swap with you,' says Lish, 
an' took the egg and giv' him ther darnin' needle. Hi 
stood 'round a while, an' then he says, drawlin' like, 
'Sa3^ ain't yer goin' ter treat?' 'Treat? On one darnin' 
needle?' says Lish, 'not much.' 'Feller 'cross the way 
will,' says Hi. Lish grinned. 'All right,' says he, jest ter 
humor him, 'what'll yer have?' 'Cider 'n' aig,^ says Hi, 
That tickled the rest on us, but Lish brought the cider, 
an' broke ther egg into it — Hi's own egg — an' Hi see it 
was a double yelker. Hi took up ther glass an' looked 
at ther egg some time, Then he says, says he: 'Say, 
hadn't yer better gimme 'nother darnin' needle?' " 
IV. 
Stories and breakfast ended, I took the rifle from its 
rest above the mantel shelf and followed the road toward 
the next neighbor's. The clouds were high and fleecy, 
the sun in full splendor, but for summer time not very 
hot. In that altitude the heat is never very intense. 
Going down the knoll toward the first bridge presented 
the picture of the yellow road cut in the turf, winding, 
and undulating, full of light and shade and color, 
softened by bordering vegetation, and disappearing in 
shadow. A gentle breeze brought sweet country odor;. 
All about, birds, trees, grass and flowers. I walked soft- 
ly, drinking enjoyment. The woods approached, and 
their dim recesses seemed black by contrast. What is 
that dim form? It may be the next neighbor's Fed setter 
dog. So vague were the outlines that I stopped to await 
a motion. There was no motion. I opened the rifle and 
snapped the breech dovfu. At the click the shadowy form 
became a fox on the gallop to circle past me. The fox 
kept steadily to his path, and a bitllet from the rifle began 
a cross path. The two paths and the two bodies, the big 
soft one and the Mttle hard one, instantly intersected, and 
I held a harmless fox in my arms and stroked his soft 
fur. Shall I go back to the house with him? No; I will 
put him in a tree out of the way of harm. 
The forest path lured on. Patches of sunlight moved 
on the forest floor, golden bright, lighting green «i©ss 
and checkerberry plant, brown twigs, dark red and rus- 
set leaves. Vistas in half-light showed between the tree 
trunks. Red squirrels chirred, occasional gray ones ran 
along nearby boughs, deer had left frequent evidences. 
The lives of all were safe; the rifle was not for them dur- 
ing this season. The road led op. and on, with delight ai 
every step. Finally, like sighting a telescope, straight 
down the dark road was a bright picture of a large 
white farmhouse, with outbuildings attached, a garden, 
a woodpile, and a great protecting tree. From the upper 
windows of the house everything the sight could reach 
belonged to this proprietor: hills and valleys, forest, field, 
stream and meadow, Truly, he could say, "Monarch of 
all I survey." v 
I found him seated at the grindstone in the shadow of 
the barn, sharpening a scythe. He reached for my rifle 
and looked it all over critically. "That's a mighty pretty 
gun. It's about the size and heft of my grandsir's pea- 
rifle, only it's got a smaller hole. Seems to me 'tain't 
much more 'n a toy. You calc'Iatin' to shoot any b'ars 
with it?" 
"No, I guess not. I haven't lost any bears. I brought 
it along more for company than for gam.e. The game 
law is on now, you know." 
"Game law? Humph! Ain't nobody around here to 
touch you if you shoot anything you want Ther's plenty 
of deers around, 'n' pa'tridges is thick 's hens up in tlie 
parstefs,, |ielp yoiu'self." 
