THE LADIES' FLORAL CABINET. 
307 
“At any rate that was original; all Aristarchus did 
was to make a parody something like this: 
1 Roeltaby, baby, upon the big lake, 
When tho wind blows Uio cradle will shake, 
When the waves break tho baby will go 
To dwell with tho little Ashes bolowl 1 ” 
Wo pushed on across tho Saranac and up a narrow 
brook as far as the boats could be made to go by turning 
in and out and winding about, and then we landed. 
First we ate our lunch, as it was about noon, and then 
prepared to carry the boat along the rough shore and 
over rocks and bushes. A boat-yoke was placed upon 
the shoulders of Furguson, and then the guides lifted a 
boat and fitted it, upside down, on the yoke. The other 
boat was placed upon Aristarchus in the same manner. 
Then the guides loaded themselves with the tents, blan¬ 
kets, cooking utensils, rifles and ammunition, and the 
queer procession started on, the guides leading, and 
Aristarchus and I bringing up the rear. The sun was 
shining hotly down and, after awhile, I sought shelter 
from the heat by walking under tho rear of Aristarchus’ 
boat; he declared if I was to have the benefit of its shel¬ 
ter, I might help to bear its burden; I could let it rest 
gently on my shoulders, he said. So he attempted to 
push the boat backward a little on the yoke, but pushed 
too hard, and the rear end of the boat came down on 
my head with a thump that made an astronomer of me! 
I dropped to the ground as the quickest way of getting 
away from the boat, but its balance being disturbed it 
came down after me, its weight bringing Aristarchus 
down backwards against me. The guides hearing, as 
they afterwards said, “a yelling as of Indians on the 
war path,” turned back to the rescue, finding Aristar¬ 
chus and I down on the ground engaged in a hand-to- 
hand conflict with that boat. 
‘ 1 How under the sun did you get into such a scrape ? ” 
they asked. 
“We did it trying to get out from ‘under the sun,’” 
I explained. 
“It’s the easiest thing in the world for Cordelia and me 
to get into scrapes,” asserted my partner in misfortune. 
We were soon extricated from this scrape and the 
boat replaced on Aristarchus shoulders, and Furguson 
delicately hinted that Adirondack boats were not gener¬ 
ally used as parasols, while I overheard one of the guides 
say to the other that if I could not stand a little sun¬ 
shine I had better have staid away; and the other re¬ 
plied, that I would have to be chained up yet to keep 
me out of mischief. 
I went on very meekly after this, until we were past 
the carry and embarked on Rowell’s pond; sailing across 
this we came to a point of land jutting out into the 
pond, where we landed. It was late in the afternoon, 
and the guides went to work setting up the tents and 
building a five to get our supper by, while Furguson and 
Aristarchus took the axes and went into the woods to 
cut hemlock boughs for our beds. As for me, I sat down 
and bent all my energies to the task of keeping “ out of 
mischief!” As night settled down upon us in this 
wilderness, miles away from any human habitation, a 
feeling of indescribable loneliness came with it, that only 
those can understand who have experienced it. The 
sound of the breeze sighing among the pines over our 
heads had a melancholy tone, and the lake, no longer 
illumined by the sun, looked dark and unfriendly. It 
was after dark when, the tents and beds having been 
made ready for use, we gathered around the fire to eat 
.our supper. Dickson, one of the guides, having opened 
a can of tongue and made a pot of coffee, was now fry¬ 
ing slapjacks, better known among the mountains as 
pancakes. 
“Do you like them brown?” he asked. 
“ Well, pretty brown,” replied Furguson. 
“Just a rich, golden brown,” added Aristarchus. 
“We had a feller up here last year—one o’ them 
Brooklyn chaps—an’ he wanted ’em real brown, an’ we 
couldn’t get ’em so brown but what he’d call out 
‘ browner, if you please,’ an’ I vow we couldn’t suit him 
till I took one an’ rubbed it on the bottom of the fry 
pan an’ put it on his plate, an’ he didn’t say nothin’ 
more about having ’em browner 1 ” 
By the time Dickson had finished his story, he had 
tossed us a slapjack apiece to commence on, and the one 
which fell to my share, instead of being a golden brown, 
was so pale I feared it would faint away before I could 
eat it, but I was so wholesomely impressed by his story 
that I did not dare to say “ browner, if you please.” 
Said Furguson, with his mouth full— 
“ Tis sweet to sup on slapjacks 
Amid the Adirondacks, 
And listen to the breezes 
Up in the tall pine treeses.” 
“ Or, while the guides fry batter, 
To hear the senseless chatter 
Of one who thinks himself a poet, 
And vainly strives to prove or show it! ” said I. 
“ Good for you, Cordelia, hit him again,” cried Aris¬ 
tarchus. But Furguson hastened to change the conver¬ 
sation by pointing to the moon which was just rising 
above the edge of the lake. 
“What is that round thing?” he asked, “it looks like, 
the Boston moon. Do you have moons up here, Dick¬ 
son ? ” 
“ Whole constellations of ’em, sir,” replied Dickson. 
“ I am prepared to testify to that,” said I, remember¬ 
ing how I felt and what I saw when that boat came 
down on my head. 
But we were too tired to jest much longer, and it was 
proposed that we retire for the night. Before we sepa¬ 
rated, Dickson brought a bottle to me and recommended 
me to anoint my face and hands with the contents. I 
looked at Aristarchus for an explanation. 
“ It is only a mixture of oil and tar to keep the mos¬ 
quitoes from eating one up alive,” said he. 
“ Why didn’t you use it yourself, instead of getting 
such a horrid looking nose?” asked I, sniffing at the 
bottle; but I smelled the reason and declined the 
mixture. 
We bade Furguson good-night and retired to our tent ; 
a large pile of hemlock boughs with a blanket spread 
over them,’ and another blanket to cover us, formed our 
bed, and on this I lay down. I tossed and tumbled for 
awhile, trying vainly to find a comfortable place or 
position, but turn as I might I could not get away from 
a sharp something that was perpetually sticking into 
my back or side. At last I got Aristarchus to investi¬ 
gate the bed, and he found a large knot among the 
boughs, which he removed. Then I lay quite still and 
comfortable for ten minutes but was disturbed by a 
loud slapping sound in the direction of the other tent, 
and asked my husband what it meant. He said they ' 
were ‘ ‘ slapping mosquitoes 1 ” Very soon I had to com¬ 
mence the process in my own defence, as they began to 
