842 
FOREST AND STREAM 
My Hunting Camp, Where Rolls The Aroostook 
Loving Inventory of a List of Possessions That, While They do not Measure Much as Wealth Goes, Represent 
Untold Value in Good Times Had and to Come 
By Henry D. Atwood 
B Y memory’s light I see the old shanty on 
the secluded stream, the rippling waters 
of which flow by its open door. The 
fading sunlight glimmers over all and lends a 
glamor to the scene; and again I look around 
upon the familiar interior of my autumn home, 
with its peeled spruce log walls and cedar shin¬ 
gled roof. The door is wide open,, and faces 
on the water. Two windows in front and two 
in each side admit the sunlight and the air. 
Again I read on the door the notice forbidding 
the kindling of fires in the woods and forests, 
in these words: “II est fait defense de mettre 
le feu aux forets et aux terres boisees,” from 
revised statutes of Maine—a notice most need¬ 
ful, for a fire once started it is impossible to 
extinguish. 
Within the shanty, upon the front wall at the 
left of the door, hang a number of towels and 
a match-safe. On a shelf repose the water pail 
and basins. Hard by is the kerosene can, and 
beneath the shelf is a box of evaporated cream, 
essential for our morning’s cup of coffee. Near¬ 
by is another ten-gallon can and a mouse trap, 
for the field mice are very troublesome here; 
these are in juxtaposition to a cracker can and 
several empty bottles, a box of nails, a rusty 
lock and key—for there is no treasure to lock 
up; a hunter’s treasure is always in heaven— 
also a large funnel and a lantern, with a box of 
flor fina Key West cigars. 
On the side walls hang a caribou’s antlers, 
coupled with a small saw, a drawing-knife and 
a bit, with birchbark horns for calling moose— 
which rarely come—and another lantern, by 
means of which, like Diogenes, we can look for 
honest men by night or day. On the floor are 
stored cans of bacon and chipped beef, cocoa, 
tomatoes, baking powder and brisket beef. Who¬ 
ever once partakes of the latter will feel the 
fibres running through his being for weeks after¬ 
ward. It is hardly too much to say that the 
strands of that beef could be woven into rat¬ 
lines that would answer for a seventy-four gun 
ship. 
Farther on, suspended from the wall, hang a 
looking-glass—for we are all careful of our 
toilets here—some hunter’s belts, with overcoats 
and shirts. Beneath the shelves, against the 
wall, repose the paddles of the canoes, some 
barrels of potatoes and sugar, with boxes of 
canned peaches and sugar corn, for we are well 
provisioned here to stand a long seige if driven 
to shelter by the inclemencies of the season or 
the incursions of bears and other barbarians. 
Also observable are a pair of rubber boots, a 
hunter’s pack and a huge chest, which excites 
my curiosity, and upon opening which I found a 
pineapple cheese, like the last rose of summer, 
within its capacious recesses. Some toilet soap, 
from which I inferred that some of the gentler 
sex might occasionally visit this abode; next 
thereto are Capt. Joseph’s alligator grip, towels, 
whiskbroom and toilet articles. Beyond these is 
another box, with my extension bag and 30-30. 
Over the bed rests a mosquito netting, not 
needed now. Oh! that refreshing bed, after the 
day’s tramp is over—albeit made of spruce tim¬ 
ber, with implacable and unimpressionable mat¬ 
tresses, seemingly of cast iron, but replete with 
heavy blankets, and breathing balmy odors from 
its balsamic fir pillows—making it an inestim¬ 
able blessing to the wearied mortal. 
Above the bed, and shelf, lie a sweater, a pair 
of slippers, my cleaning rod, cardigan, cigar 
case, flannel night shirt, and a bottle of reno¬ 
vating bitters, which carefully treasured, insure 
an effective eye opener in the morning. 
On the opposite side of the room are two 
more beds of similar make and capacity and me- 
thinks I can still hear Capt. Joseph sighing upon 
them, as the protuberances strike his marrows. 
At the foot repose a tote bag, another pair of 
slippers—for we came well provided to slip 
around easily—and on the wall depend a couple 
of ammunition calendars, which are to a large 
extent responsible for bringing a Steadily grow¬ 
ing influx of visitors to the woods of Maine. 
One look at them excites admiration; a second a 
desire to secure a gun, and a third render a man 
insane and irresponsible for his actions; and he 
will never recover until he has had a dose of 
medicine,. which can only be secured by taking 
a trip to the regions of spruce gum and game. 
Also there may be observed coats for all so¬ 
cial events, towels and pajamas, and upon the 
floor are sundry pails, tin cans, etc., all attesting 
to the care and efficiency of the owner of the 
camp in providing for the wants of his guests. 
On the side wall, opposite to that whose belong¬ 
ings have already been noted, may be found in 
suitable array the various culinary articles be¬ 
longing to the camp, which I will not now under¬ 
take to enumerate as the list is long, and my 
time is brief. 
Beneath the front window at the right of the 
door, is a box of dry cedar kindling, always kept 
well filled and a huge pile of split pine, more 
rubber boots and a variety of kettles and cans, 
all making a camp equipment as perfect as the 
most exacting tenderfoot could require. And 
then there is the stove—a relic of the past, made 
in 1884—which still in its old age dispenses heat, 
boils water, cooks the pancakes, fries the bacon 
and venison, and under the full influence of the 
split pine, roars with a mighty voice and does 
efficient service, despite the ravages of time and 
the rust upon its joints. Then there is the 
never-to-be-forgotten tea kettle, that dispenses 
such refreshing drinks, and the long dining table, 
at which a dozen can be seated. The camp 
sometimes held twenty—and what mahogany is 
better or has better and more companionable 
guests or better fare when set out with its plate 
of venison done to a turn, its hot cakes and its 
maple syrup? The remaining furniture consists 
of five chairs and some long benches. An addi¬ 
tion some eighteen feet long, in the rear, makes 
a convenient retiring room for women or other 
invited guests. 
Such is the camp as I see it; and now a few 
words for its occupants! Imprimis, Capt. Jos¬ 
eph is a man under forty years of age, six feet 
tall and of stalwart frame, with coal black hair 
and beard and dark eyes. As a sailor he is Ai; 
as a sportsman, none keener than he—and none 
more ready to do his share at cleaning, cooking, 
mending, tending fires, etc., and tidying up every¬ 
thing in and about the camp. 
His good mother, however, viewing him as 
somewhat too youthful and inexperienced to go 
upon a long and hazardous hunting trip, had im¬ 
pressed upon him before his departure that he 
was to look to his companion du voyage as a 
sort of mentor. For, in her anxiety for his wel¬ 
fare while absent, she desired to know what 
kind of man his companion was; whether he was 
sober-minded and of no bad habits; if he took 
no needless risks, etc. To this Capt. Joseph re¬ 
plied that his companion had been around the 
world; had visited England twice, and was as 
good a man as could be found in the whole 
country to travel with. “Very well, then, Jos¬ 
eph;” said his mother, “you must do just as he 
tells you while you are away, and then you will 
doubtless get along all right.” 
Joseph did not remember to inform me of this 
proof of his" mother’s confidence until after I 
had been at-the camp for some time; and after 
that.I kept him busy as well as I could in mend¬ 
ing my clothes and cooking such refections as 
suggested themselves to me, including the com¬ 
pounding of beverages of a beneficial nature and 
due potency. 
Joseph was an old friend of mine, and many 
pleasant hours had I passed with him on the 
range with the rifle and at the trap with the gun, 
and possibly I may have imposed upon his good 
nature a little. But I know when he reads this 
he will forgive me for the sake of auld lang 
syne, if not for the sake of another trip in the 
days to come, when I shall again be his mentor, 
if not his guide, in the woods of Maine. 
For myself, I have but a word to say, for I 
am not a vain man, although getting somewhat 
bald-headed. I like and have liked a dog and 
gun ever since I was a dozen years old. 
