6 
THE MAINE WOODS. 
this time. It was the Houlton road on which we were 
now travelling, over which some troops were marched 
once towards Mars’ Hill, though not to Mars’ field , as it 
proved. It is the main, almost the only, road in these 
parts, as straight and well made, and kept in as good re¬ 
pair, as almost any you will find anywhere. Everywhere 
we saw signs of the great freshet, — this house standing 
awry, and that where it was not founded, but where it 
was found, at any rate, the next day; and that other with 
a water-logged look, as if it were still airing and drying 
its basement, and logs with everybody’s marks upon 
them, and sometimes the marks of their having served 
as bridges, strewn along the road. We crossed the Sunk- 
haze, a summery Indian name, the Olemmon, Passadum- 
keag, and other streams, which make a greater show on 
the map than they now did on the road. At Passadum- 
keag we found anything but what the name implies, — 
earnest politicians, to wit,—white ones, I mean,—-on the 
alert, to know how the election was likely to go; men 
who talked rapidly, with subdued voice, and a sort of 
factitious earnestness, you could not help believing, hard¬ 
ly waiting for an introduction, one on each side of your 
buggy, endeavoring to say much in little, for they see 
you hold the whip impatiently, but always saying little 
in much. Caucuses they have had, it seems, and cau¬ 
cuses they are to have again, — victory and defeat. 
Somebody may be elected, somebody may not. One 
man, a total stranger, who stood by our carriage in the 
dusk, actually frightened the horse with his asseverations, 
growing more solemnly positive as there was less in him 
to be positive about. So Passadumkeag did not look on 
the map. At sundown, leaving the river-road awhile 
for shortness, we went by way of Enfield, where we 
