S88 ' 
to pitch the tent and get camp in order before_ night came 
on. Things turned out in much better condition than we 
had expected they would after so long a churn. Some of 
the eggs were ready to scramble and the rice in- the con- 
fusion of the journey must have thought there was a 
wedding among the knives and forks for it had scat- 
tered itself in their box in great confusion. Our tent was 
minus stakes and pins through somebody’s carelessness, 
and we were inclined to think hard thoughts toward those 
who had last used the outfit but reconsidered and taking 
it as a joke, set about to cut what we needed from the 
material about us. . It was indeed surprising how easily 
things went together. By the time the sun rested on the 
western hill and cast its golden rays across the rippled 
lake and up to our very tent -door, the camp was in good 
order and we stood aside looking with pride on the re- 
sult of our first attempt.' 
It was after seven when we sat down to eat our first 
meal. The smoked eggs and dust-scummed coffee seemed 
delicious to our ravenous appetites, and w.e began to 
doubt whether sufficient food had been brought. Present 
comfort on this occasion, however, received more con- 
sideration than future need, for we ate all we could with 
decency and then felt reluctant in leaving so refreshing 
a repast. 
“Early to bed” was our motto that night. The dishes 
had been given a lick and a promise of better treatment 
in the future and stowed aw^ay in their box. Then to 
stow ourselves away. Had we known beforehand the^ ex- 
perience of that night we might both have remained 
ignorant of the life in the woods. When two come to 
make themselves comfortable where there is scarce room 
for one, trouble begins. .The narrow wide spaced slats of 
the cot cut our ribs miserably, and we had not material 
enough to overcome this. J 3 ne side wmuld tire and a 
signal would be given to turn, for if one tried to ac- 
complish the act alone, he or the other would have been 
forced out. An hour of tossing about was enough. We 
lit the lantern and sat down to have a council of war. 
The ren:ainder of the night was passed by rolling up in 
blankets and Iving on the tent tl.oor. This was fully as 
hard, but the hardness was equally distributed instead of 
in streaks. On the following morning after breakfast we 
set about to cut from the pines material for a mattress. 
Now, if we had had a rubber cover to throw over these 
green boughs, the bed would have been very comfortable, 
for the effect of the slats was overcome. But that night 
toward midnight a cold damp chill rose through the 
double blanket and I awoke with a sensation similar to 
what I might have experienced had I during my sleep 
been transported to cold storage. My partner, who had 
chosen to sleep in the hammock slung in the. pines a few 
rods from the tent, had some .time before abandoned so 
weird a shelter and was lying sound asleep Qn the floor. 
Stiff limbed I crawled out' to make a ligh^ stumbling 
over him and awakening hint .as I did so. yVe did not 
satisfactorily solve the bed .que.sticn all the time we were 
at Wildwood, but concluded that a folding cpt each and 
plenty of blankets were essential to comfortable nights. _ 
In the food line we attempted nothing more impli- 
cated than rice pudding and pancakes. Our neighbors 
across the lake were very thoughtful and on several occa- 
sions sent us pies and cookies, that would tempt any appe- 
tite, let alone that of a camper, One_ Sa.turday. night two 
visitors put in their appearance, bringing with them a 
basketful of table delicacies and a good-sized chicken, 
destitute of head and feathers , but otherwise complete, 
being the chief article. (How v/e slept that night is a 
puzzler.) After an 8 o'clock breakfast the, following 
morning my partner in camp and one of the newcomers 
suddenly and without notice disappeared. Beside all the 
camp chores to be done there were, preparations to be 
made for the dinner. I was not a little provoked at the 
situation, but visitor No. 2 -was a hustler, and itr a short 
time all the breakfast work had been done and our heads 
got together over the chicken. We had both witnessed 
the “drawing act” from a distance but lacked practical 
knowledge of j ust how to begin. Somewhere inside we 
had. heard there was a gland which, if broken, would 
spoil the whole stew — that we must look out for at all 
hazards. How ridiculous we must have looked, our 
sleeves rolled to. the elbow, one holding on for dear life 
while the other, with a wave-edged bread knife, studied 
and worked attentively. 
During all the time we were busy about camp, the visi- 
tor and myself were planning some means of provoking 
the jealousy of the two who had deserted us at so critical 
a time of day. We had determined tO' carry the fifty- 
pound, canoe a distance of one mile to a pretty and se- 
cluded little lake, seldom visited except by. the moun- 
taineers, and named by them Mud Pond. The sign, 
“Gone on a canoe trip to Mud Pond — Chicken dinner in 
camp, at 2 P. M.,” was hurriedly written and pinned on 
the flap of -the tent and all haste was made to get off be- 
fore we should be discovered. No time of departure was. 
stated lest they return soon after the start and overtake 
us. Paddles and cushions were carried down to the rock 
landing, where the craft lay basking in the warm sun of 
the beautiful morning. Neither of us had ever carried 
or helped to carry a canoe any distance, but we were sure . 
that what others - had done we could do. Books treat 
lightly of long carries even when considerabl duffle is in- 
eluded, and the way is in the bed of a shallow stream 
of . dver an im,aginary trail through a dense growth of ^ 
underbrush that makes progress almost impossible. Our ; 
course was over an old wood road still in fair condition . 
and remarkably free from hills for a mountain roaffi 
After several clumsy moves the canoe was hoisted to our 
shbulders and we proceeded. Both were on the sa,me side 
of the boat and before many steps had been taken we 
were obliged to halt and try a different arrangement. One 
on either side worked much better. Soon the twenty-five 
pounds seemed to be approaching the hundreds, and the 
sharp keel of the canoe cut through the cushions unmer- 
cifully, so that a halt was suggested and unanimously 
carried. The next pause was made at the half-way cross 
road. Neither had complained but our shoulders were 
feeling raw to the bone and our backs ached severely. 
Two or three more periods of endurance and two or 
three more rests, then we struck through the underbrush 
that borders the pond and emerged on the peculiar shore 
of bur destination. 
jMud Pond is well named, for in the upper end of this 
^ody of water there is a deposit of light mud varying in 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
depth from five to ten, perhaps even twenty feet in depth. 
This when brought to the surface has a sickening malarial 
odor and appears alive with odd-shaped insects. Even 
though it was the latter part of August we plucked a 
good-sized bunch of beautiful water lilies that day. The 
contrast of the pure white growing out. of that filthy 
muck was forcibly impressive. Now and then we came 
near puncturing our canoe on sharp rocks which lay : 
hidden, in the deposit, for the water is quite shallow 
where the lilies grow, so shallow indeed that -at times we 
seemed to be floating on the ooze. Numerous schools of 
catfish darted here and there, and leeches fully six inches 
in length zigzaged their way through the water. The 
lower end of the lake is quite clear and the eastern shore 
is a beach of sand dotted with many huge boulders. We 
spent two hours studying the peculiarties of the place and 
then pointed our prow toward where the home trail ap- 
proaches the margin. There is not one good landing 
place along the whole shore. The sand beach is firm 
enough but just beyond is a swamp, making an approach 
from that , side very difficult. We struck out for camp 
■with both feet wet and muddy. The carry back was a 
repetition of sore shoulders and lame backs, but the dis- 
tance seemed much shorter this time and the task far 
more pleasant. When two-thirds of the way home our 
course was altered and we turned into a surveyor’s trail 
to Wildwood, which cut off a hard portion of the trip and 
gave us a refreshing paddle into camp at the finish. 
The air at the mountains was delightful. Two more 
favorable weeks could not have fallen to the lot of camp- 
ers out. Fishing in the lake was not as lively as we had 
hoped to find it, but there was a mountain full of interest 
to the nature lover, and when so disposed one could sit 
by the hour and watch the ways of the inhabitants of the 
woods. 
Many were the discomforts of those two weeks, but the 
rest, freedom and experience of the inspiring life fully 
atone, and the camper who learns to camp grows to know 
and^ love- the woods, and when, far from their poetical 
environments looks back with a smile even uponfhe hard- 
est of the hardships- A. L. 
Nutting Days. 
The transition of summer into autumn is often al- 
most inperceptible. _ September days are as much like 
August ones as twin chestnuts in the burr. There is 
as yet no hint of chill in the soft, hazy air. The bumble 
bees hold high revel in the clover blooms on the fresh 
rowen. The woods show a front of unbroken green, 
for the torch which shall so soon set their ranks aglow 
has not yet touched them. True, the darkness descends 
earlier, the cricket chirps dismally, and the wind rises 
and moans o’ nights in the pines, but we do not heed 
their warning when the days are packed so full of 
summer joys. At last, old Boreas grows tired of the 
long-continued reign of the zephyrs. He marshals his 
forces and sends them brawling and blustering over 
the land. For a day and a night, his raiders sweep 
hill and plain. They try every door and fastening, 
and tug at the anchorings of the boats on the bay. 
They toss the arms of the giant oak and whirl the 
dark mane of the lofty pine. Many a brave ship goes 
down before their charges. Other forces lend their 
aid to the winds. The air is murky and dim. The rain 
descends from the heavy skies. It is not the copious 
downpour _ of the summer showers, but a cold, per- 
sistent drizzle that penetrates to the marrow of our 
bones. The chill creeps into the house and sends the 
cattle cowering to the barns for shelter. Finally, the 
-sun breaks through the clouds and floods the earth 
with his cheery light. Now w.e see that the change has 
come. The farewell-summer: blooms by every road 
side. The days of the sere, the yellow leaf have stolen , 
upon us unawares. 
But autumn has its compensations for all that it takes 
from us. One day, you learn (it may be the sight of 
the vender roasting the plump, glossy nuts over his 
pail of coals) that chestnuts are ripe. Then memory 1 
leads you back to the old farm and the chestnut grove 
on the hill. Your thoughts follow a boy with a brown 
spaniel at his heels. He knows the grove and has 
watched its fruit with an eager eye. He does not in- 
tend that the squirrels shall have his share. Break- 
fast is a mere formality to the boy in nutting time. 
Fie swallows a few mouthfuls, then bolts for the door. 
Outside, he examines the old shotgun that he so care- 
fully loaded the night before, . then hurries across the 
frosty stubble with Gip, barking and frisking about 
him. He scolds her, tells her she will scare away all 
the squirrels. Little does Gip care for squirrels. It 
is pure joy to follow Master that shines out of her 
brown eyes and sets her stubby tail wagging. Soon 
the gun speaks out on the hill, and a limp, bleeding 
form tumbles out of a tree. How proud the boy feels" 
as he bags his first squirrel! ' 
When game fails, he gathers the nuts that are be- ' 
ginning to drop from the opening burrs. He swings. 
himself into one of the great trees and stamps and j 
shakes the boughs until the chestnuts fall in a merry 
rain. Other boys come, for it is a holiday, and the . 
grove rings with their happy voices. When the sun 
sinks behind the hills, they all go home with caps fulL 
pockets full, sacks full, some to eat, and some to 
store away for winter feasting. 
What fun the boy had, now you think of it! HowL 
close and stuffy the office seems as you recall the wind-, 
swept hillside! Why not go up to the old farm and ' 
retaste those early joys? By Jove, the very thing! 
Let clients be hanged! You are off for the country 
for a real holiday — one of those seasons that drops ' 
the burden of care from a man’s shoulders and makes 
him young again. In your burst of enthusiasm, you ' 
tell your partner of your plan, and he eyes you coldly 
as tnough he had doubts of your sanity. The poor . 
wight! he was brought up in the city by a maiden 
aunt and knows nothing of a boy’s good times on the 
farm. 
Brother George stares, too, when you appear, for ' 
your visits at the farm have not been as frequent as ', 
they should be. The whole family welcomes, you, es- 
pecially your pretty nieces when they learn that you 
have come up from town for the express purpose of 
tOcT. 7 , 190^. 
going nutting with them. In the morning, you are 
off early for the grove. Strange that you should for- 
get how rough and steep the hill is! The young folks 
race : lightly up the path and you toil slowly behind, 
wishing vainly that you had brought a pair of easy 
shoes. When you reach the top of the hill, you are 
puffing like a grampus and are glad to rest a bit in 
the shade. 
Can these be the same trees that you used to shin- 
up in your boyhood days? That feat is impossible now 
for one of your girth and dignity. You contrive ' to. 
thrash off a few nuts from the lower branches, but the 
stick is too short and the labor exhausting. Then you 
find the very tree that you used to scramble into as 
nimbly as a squirrel. It looks easy still, suppose you 
try it. You catch hold of a bending limb and draw 
yourself up with a supreme effort. 
C-r-a-a-c-k— thud! that was a nasty fall. You gather 
yourself up and limp painfully away. No more gym- 
nastics for you! A small boy is circling about in the 
distance, plainly bursting for ,the chance, so you beckon 
to him and pay him to climb up and shake off the nuts. 
That night you sit down in your room and reckon 
up the damages: 
Item — One sprained ankle- 
item — One nervous system severely shaken up. 
Item — One pair of new trousers badly rent. 
Item — One lot of cherished illusions damaged. 
You muse a while over the mutability of all things 
earthly and your reflections run somewhat in this 
fashion: “As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he,” 
say the scriptures. That applies to the old fellow who 
wished to relive his boyhood pleasures. Some things 
he must forego. No more racing barefoot over the 
sod, nor happy games under the spreading boughs. 
They belong to the irretrievable past. In future, since 
he is fat and forty, he will perform all athletic feats by 
proxy. But let him hold fast to his love for green 
fields and chestnut groves as he holds to faith and 
honor. ' Let him keep, too, the heart of a boy with 
its enthusiasms and gayety, its high hopes and unspoiled 
ideals. It may be a saving grace for him yet — who 
knows? M. E. COLEGROVE. 
Trails of the Pathfinders, — XXXIV* 
George Frederick Roxton — Mexico and the Rocky Mountains. 
Sometime about 1840 George Frederick Ruxton, a 
young, Englishman, was serving in Canada as an officer 
in a British regiment. In 1837, when only seventeen years 
of age, he had left Sandhurst to enlist as a volunteer in 
the service of Spain, where he served with gallantry and 
distinction in the civil wars and received from Queen 
Isabella II. the cross of the first class of the Order of 
St. Fernando. The monotony of garrison duty in Can- 
ada soon palled on one who had taken part in more stir- 
ring scenes, and before long he resigned his commission 
in his regiment, and sought new fields of adventure. 
He was a man fond of action and eager to see new 
things. His earliest project was to cross Africa, and this 
he attempted. It was only an attempt, for the point at 
which they began their journey was one without water, 
and .without inhabitants ; and it was only by the assist- 
ance of some of the natives that the lives of Ruxton and 
his companion were saved. 
He next turned toward Mexico as a field for adventure, 
and has painted a fascinating picture, both of life there 
at_ the time of the Mexican war and of life in the moun- 
tains to the north. The two small volumes of his writ- 
ings areihow out of print, but they are well worth read- 
ing by those who desire to learn of the early history of 
a country that is now well known, and which within fifty 
years has changed from a region without population to 
one whicb. is la; teeming hive of industry. 
In - Ruxton’s “Adventures in Mexico and the Rocky 
Mountains” is a singularly vivid account of the author’s 
journeAdngs from England, by way of the Madeira Isl- 
ands, Barbadoes and others of the Antilles, to Cuba, and 
so to Vera Cruz^ more fully called the rich City of the 
True Cross; or as often, and quite aptly — from ' the 
plague of yellow fever which so constantly ravaged it — 
the City of the Dead. From Vera Cruz he traveled 
north, passing through Mexico, whose coast was then 
blockaded by the Gringos of North America, then 
through the country ravaged by marauding Indians, and 
at last leaving Chihuahua and crossing by way of El Paso 
into New Mexico he reached what is now the South- 
western United States. Through this country he passed 
— in winter — north through the mountains, meeting the 
trappers and mountaineers of those days and the Indians 
as well, crossed the plains, and finally reached St. Louis, 
and from there passed east to New York. 
Although Ruxton was untrained in literature he was 
a keen observer, and presented his narrative in most at- 
tractive form. He saw the salient characteristics of the 
places, and the people among whom he was thrown, and 
comrnented on them most interestingly. He gives us a 
peculiarly vivid picture of Mexico as it was during its 
early days of stress and strain, or from the time of its 
independence, for within the last twenty-five years there 
had been not far from 250 revolutions. ■ This state of 
things, as is well known, continued for a dozen years 
after .the Mexican War, or until the great Indian, Juarez,' 
became ruler of the country and put down" lawlessness 
and revolution with a strong hand. Since his day Mexico 
has been fortunate in its rulers. - . ■ ^ ' 
Just after Ruxton reached Vera Cruz, General Santa 
Anna, ex-president of Mexico, reached the city, having 
been summoned to return after his expulsion of a year 
before. Santa Anna was received with some form and 
ceremony, but with no applause; and before he had been 
long ashore was cross-examined by a representative of 
the people in very positive fashion, and submitted most 
meekly to the inquisition. 
It is_ hardly to be supposed that Ruxton, who had been 
a British soldier, would be blind to the extraordinary 
appearance and absolute lack of discipline of the Mexican 
troops, and his description of the soldiers, their equip- 
ment, and the preparations for the reception of Santa 
Anna is interesting. “The crack regiment of the Mexi- 
can afiny— Elonze the nth— which happened to be in 
garrison at the time, cut most prodigious capers in the 
