May 6, 1^9-1 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
"Do you judge by the side of the tree the moss grows 
on?" said the questioner, 
"Not always," replied Ben. "Depends on the tree and 
the place where the tree grows and a whole lot of other 
things. It's all experience. There's no rule that works 
all the time." 
The party reached the summit of Marcy safely and 
camped that night in Panther Gorge. On the return 
trip Charlie Judd took a notion to cross through Rail- 
road Notch to Elk Lake and then out to Fenton's, on the 
main road, where he could take the stage for home. 
Two hours after he left the party a shout was heard. 
Ben said it was Judd calling for assistance and that he 
was lost. He answered the shout, which came from a 
direction at right angles to the course they had been pur- 
suing, and advanced to meet the lost man. In five min- 
utes they had found him. Judd acknowledged that he 
had traveled in a circle and was hopelessly mixed up, 
and he was thankful to get back to the party. 
Ben naturally laughed at him for being lost, and after 
he had meekly taken his medicine the party set out again 
for the camp on Boreas. 
They traveled fifteen minutes or more, and then Con- 
gressman Foote, who had a compass, chanced to look 
at it and made the startling discovery that they were 
going in a direction that made camp 24,000 miles away. 
"Hold on there, Ben," he called out. "What way are 
you heading?" 
"West," said Ben; "I'm going to camp fast as I can to 
get in out of this rain." 
"No yoii're not," sa:id Foote; "you're heading east. 
Your ready-made compass has fooled you this time." 
Ben looked at the instrument in Foote's hand, which 
Iiappened to have a plain needle without a cross-piece, 
and coolly said that the dark end pointed south and that 
he was right. Another compass was produced and it was 
found that this, too, had no cross-piece. The individual 
members of the party had so much confidence tn Ben 
that they were completely at sea, and could not be posi- 
tive whether it was the light or the dark end of the needle 
that followed the Pole star. Finally someone asked Ben 
if he would go by the moss on the trees. He assented to 
this, and after a few^ minutes' observation acknowledged 
that something was wrong. 
As the quickest way of solving the tangle, Ben took 
the party on the back trail to the place where they had 
been joined by the lost man. Here it was perfectly evi- 
dent that he had been turned, and in the excitement of 
the moment lost his bearings. Ben acknowledged his 
error, and had no difficulty after that in conducting the 
party safely to camp. This was the first and last time 
Ben was ever known to be lost. Thinking he would be 
sietisitive on the subject the members of the party deter- 
mined* not to say anything about the incident. A few 
days later, however, when they had gotten out to Nel- 
son Labrier's, at Boreas River, Ben said to Mr. Wood- 
bridge: 
"I've just been telling Nelson about my experience. 
"What experience?" 
"Why, my getting lost. You don't suppose I'm 
ashamed to tell on myself when I'm wrong, do you? 
Nelson's got as good a right to laugh at me as I had to 
banter Charlie Judd." 
Some Characteristics. 
"Ben is a patient, everlasting fisherman," said Mr. 
Woodbridge, "and if there's any fish to be caught he'll 
get them. Like most of the natives up this way, he's 
very fond of bull pout fishing, and many a night he has 
spent on the water. He is a magnificent rifle shot. I've 
seen him shoot across Clear Pond from the old hunter's 
camp and take a loon's head right off. Ben's eye is get- 
ting dimmed now and glazing over, but he used to have 
the finest sight of any man I ever knew. 
"He loves that Clear Pond country, and wants to be 
buried there when he dies. It is a beautiful place, with 
its peaked, wooded hills and translucent water. The 
pond is fed almost entirely by springs which bubble up 
from the bottom. It has no inlet of any consequence, 
but there is always a considerable volume of water at the 
outlet. Ben has visited the place every year since he 
was a boy. 
"Ben has never smoked, and he can't see what anybody 
wants to smoke for, anyway. 'It's all right, though, I 
guess,' he will say, when talking with a smoker. 'You 
look as if you enjoyed it, and I am glad of it.' " 
Ben's Religion, 
Ben is not a church member and his religion is of 
rather a primitive type. Sunday evenings in camp Char- 
lie Judd used to sing hymns, and Ben took keen pleasure 
in listening to them, for not only was the melody sweet 
to his ear, but he was also impressed by the sentiment 
expressed in the lines. After hearing some of the Moody 
and Sankey hymns he stated it as his belief that any man 
who went by the words ought to come pretty near being 
saved. Someone read him the story of Fishing Jimmy 
one night, and the big, husky fellow cried over it. 
He despises foul and mean words, though' his vocabu- 
lary does not lack expressiveness in other respects, 
"Ben has his prejudices," said a man who knows him 
from long acquaintance, "but I am bound to say he often 
strikes the truth. He goes directly to the root of a thing, 
and he sizes up a man with a woodsman's sharpness of 
perception on a half hour's acquaintance better than rnosi- 
educated men can in a much longer time. Speaking of 
a clergjanan who visited me once, Ben said: 'Say, what 
did they make a minister of him for? Why, darn it, he 
ain't more'n half a man. He's all the time looking- out 
for number one, and the hog shows out in him pretty 
much all over. He may be good enough to preach, but 
I'll tell you one thing, he ain't good enough for me to 
guide.' And Ben refused the proffered $3 a day with the 
greatest contempt." • 
Raioy Days. 
Ben, like his father, never bothered his head much 
about the future. He made no preparation against a 
rainy day, relying on his ready wits to help out of finan- 
cial trouble: — Just as in the woods a few hours' labor suf- 
fices to provide a flimsy shelter from the storm. Once 
when his landlord got tired of waiting for his rent and 
threatened to evict him, Ben went to a friend and told 
him he bad determined to give his note for $25 to raise 
the money. 
He was very much surprised when the friend Informed 
him his note was no good and that nobody would take 
it. The word had had a potent sound to Ben, and he 
confessed that he had always counted on this means of 
securing cash when all else failed. He had no idea of 
the significance of security, ar^d naturally did not know 
that it is often harder to borrow $25 than $25,000. 
"But I'll give my note for it," said Ben again, unable 
to comprehend the significance of what he had just been 
told. "Wouldn't you let me have $25 on my note?" 
"No," said the friend, "not 25 cents. . Biit," and here 
he took out his purse, "I'm perfectly wilHng to let you 
have $25 without your note. Here's the money, Ben, 
and you can pay me back when you get ready." 
"Ben is not a prohibitionist," said another friend- 
"He knows good whiskey when he sees it, and his views 
on putting down the liquor traffic lead him to putting it 
down his own throat. He may take a little too much at 
times, but he knoM's how to stop, and when he was guid- 
ing I've seen him refuse liquor many a time. Ben's a 
good, square fellow, and it's a shame he has this failing." 
Bear Incidents. 
Ben has done a great deal of trapping in his time, but 
the bulk of his experiences in this direction will be bur- 
ied with him when he dies. Those who know him best 
unite in saying that he is not given to talking about 
himself. The first bear he ever killed was one which he 
happened upon accidentally in the woods while hunting 
partridge with a small dog. The hear at first tried to get 
BEN JOURDAN. 
away, but the dog, on seeing it turn tail, thought he 
would expedite matters, and started after the bear as 
brave as if he had whipped it in a pitched battle. The 
cur's onslaught was too much for the bear's patience, and 
it turned on the dog and chased it back between its 
master's legs. The boy saw the bear coming and stood 
his ground, as the animal charged down an old woods 
road on the gallop. It was enough to make an older 
hunter nervous, but young Jourdan kept his wits about 
him and saved his single charge till the bear was within 
a few feet, and when he fired into the animal's head there 
was no need of an autopsy to determine the cause of 
death. 
On another occasion, years later, when Ben was fol- 
lowing a trapped bear, he had a somewhat puzzling ex- 
perience. The trail, which had been plain enough up to 
that moment, ended at the base of a large spruce tree. 
Looking up the tree Ben could see the marks of the 
bear's claws, proving plainly enough that the animal had 
gone up the tree, but it was equally certain that the bear 
was not then in the tree, and Ben could find no trail lead- 
ing away from the spot. He had never /heard of bears 
flying, but he couldn't quite see how any other hypoth- 
esis would fit the case, until by chance, as he was exam- 
ing the tops of neighboring trees, his eye fell on the 
bear trap lodged in the crotch of a soft maple. Investi- 
gation showed that the bear had crossed over from the 
spruce tree into the lower branches of the maple and 
then climbed the latter till, either by design or accident, 
the trap became wedged in one of the crotches so firmly 
that the bear was able to break away and make its escape- 
After getting free from the trap, the bear left no trail on 
the leaves with which the ground was strewed. 
"It's no uncommon thing for bears to get out of traps 
that way," said Jourdan. "Now, there was McCoy, of 
North Hudson, who found one dead in a trap hanging 
in the tree, because his weight wasn't enough to break 
him loose when he jumped" — — -'And so he turns the 
subject from his personal experiences. ■ 
A School GirFs Essay -on Old Ben. 
One day in school one of -M-P. Woodbridge's daughters, 
who is now Mrs. Le Wald,'~5tocvk' Ben Jourdan as the 
subject for her ex:ercise in composition. The description 
of the old woodsman is an excellent character sketch and 
true to life. • ' • . ■ i 
"No one who has been ih Camp Lookout can ever for- 
get Ben, our old guide. He is now nearly seventy years 
old, and his strength has almost gone, but hi^ large frame 
and keen eye show what he has been. For thirty-five 
years he has accompanied my father in his camping trips, 
and we children look upon old Ben as a faithful comrade 
and slave. Who but he could find such quantities of 
nuts to bring us every fall? Who else could 'peel birch 
bark as he, and where could you find better paddles and 
oars for the little rowboat than those Ben made with 
only a knife and a hatchet? 1 have at home a pair of 
deer horns brought me one fall by Ben, after hearing of 
my disappointment in not being allowed to accompany 
my father to the Adirondacks. Many of his quaint say- 
ings have been handed down from year to year until now 
they are told as camp legends. 
"He was and is vei-y fond of young people, and many 
a time when we have been laughing a great deal have 1 
heard Ben's quiet remark: T guess you must 'a found 
a tee-hee's egg in a haw-haw's nest, ain't you?' No one 
could appreciate a joke better than he, nor did he fail to 
get one on us whenever an opportunity presented itself. 
On being asked one day if there were any wild beasts in 
the woods around camp, he quietly surveyed the ques- 
tioner, who was attired in quite a startling costume, and 
he said (with a twinkle in his eye): "They ain't many 
wild varmints around here, but I seen a good many wild 
garmints. Better look out or some one'll be scairt to 
death, and you might jest as well be eaten up by b'ars.' 
"He was very surly with those whom he thought 
looked down upon him, and woe to the daring stranger 
who addressed him as 'Ben.' 'My name's "Jordan,"' 
was his response to such undue familiarity. If, however, 
you respectfully addressed him as 'Mr. Jordan,' he was 
almost sure to say, 'Git out; everybody here calls me 
"Ben," ' He would never tell hunting or fishing stories. 
'Thar's plenty of liars in the world,' was his usual an- 
swer, when urged to tell some of his experiences. And 
yet how pleased he was when someone repeated a story 
of his exploits, which he had heard from another source. 
He was a fine dance fiddler, and many a Virginia reel 
and quadrille have we danced in front of the big fire to 
Ben's fiddle. 
"Sometimes he would sing to us, and what a treat it 
was to hear 'Brave Wolf,' 'Montcalm' and old-fashioned 
love songs, sung in his high-pitched, quavering voice. 
It was almost impossible to keep the younger members 
from smiling at times, so they were generally placed 
where he could not see them." J, B. BtTRNHAM. 
An Open Air Service. 
About 7 o'clock last Sunday morning we started with' 
the dogs and walked quietly out of town^ and when the 
paved streets gave way to the high road and the foot- 
path, we took to the fields, for there were no warnings 
to keep off the grass. At the first brook the dogs all 
took a bath, and we stood on the bridge and wished we 
could; and one of the party remembered how when 
he was a boy he had been in swimming in April^ — ^just 
couldn't wait. It was funny to watch the dogs; some were 
young and had to chase robins and sparrows and point 
frogs, while the older ones worked along unmindful of 
the unruly youngsters — ^perhaps they remembered the 
hard road they had traveled to perfection. 
Just beyond, two of the dogs began to make game, 
and soon we had points from Max and Lee, and three 
hen Mongolian pheasants flushed and left the cover. We 
were glad to find these birds; for it wafi.- .gratifying to 
know that they had wintered well. So'^^e kept on until 
in another little run Tom and Lee pointed ' again, and 
we flushed a hen and a gorgeous cock, which made an 
outrageous noise for Sunday as he sailed away across the 
fields. From here we crossed an open field, where we 
started a partridge, which took to the trees, where 
we found her sitting on a limb with outstretched neck 
as still as though carved from stone. We all gathered 
linder the tree, a small pine, took a picture of' her and 
admired her trim form and beautiful feathers, and then 
quietly walked away, leaving her still on the limb, evi- 
dently chuclding to herself at how she had fooled that 
parcel of men and dogs. We will meet you again next 
fall, old lady. We found six more partridges and a 
woodcock, which whistled us its beautiful notes, and it 
was the sweetest solo on our Sunday programme. We 
saw a little snake sunning himself, so glad spring had 
come again. We heard the frogs piping praise; we heard 
the musical brook, tumbling over rocks. 
We had left the house with the cares of the past week 
fresh in our minds, and we came home after fifteen miles 
of our open air sermon and song, better for the walk, 
better for the talk, better for the tonic in the air. The 
practical side of the walk showed us that our birds had 
wintered well and now we look forward to the brown 
days, and the red-letter days. Don't let us call each 
other names and denounce one another as "game hogs," 
but get the man who murders wantonly to walk with you 
on Sunday or on a week day; show him what you 
see; and next fall his mercy will extend even to the 
birds; and when you get more birds than he does he won't 
figure out how to load his gun so as to kill them all; he 
will be glad that some can get away. Nox-ALii. 
The Mayflowers and the Ma-yflowen 
Charlestown, N. H. — Editor Forest and Stream: The 
copy of magazine attachment shows that you have made 
some capital selections, and I am glad to see that you pro- 
pose to include Col. Thorp's "Big Bear of Arkansas." 
I tried to think of the author's name a year ago, but it 
had gone from my memory completely. 
I do not wish to seem too critical, but it seems my 
mission lately to "call down" somebody or other, and 
this time it is Fred Mather! To be sure, it is not much 
of a call, for he disclaims any knowledge of botany, but 
when he says the Pilgrims named their ship after the 
Mayflower he has got "the cart before the Jiorse," for 
the epigea, miscalled trailing arbutus, is not known in 
England, and the tradition on Cape Cod is that when 
the Pilgrims-saw this new flower they named it after their 
ship! ■ . _ Von W. 
