
          462.

* Mr. S. is the oldest man in the county.

without difficulty, for the little pile of brush collected for the
fire served to mark the place, but no snakes were to be seen.
They had no doubt thawed out during the warm rain <s>being</s> between Sunday and
Monday when the thermometer reached 45° and had crawled away.  We searched about very carefully
hoping to find them hidden beneath the leaves.  Finally, up the hill
a little distance from the spot where the snakes had been placed, I
found a part of <s>a snake</s> one coiled up but much smaller than either
of the two <s>snakes</s> seen Saturday.  Some blood was still to be seen
so that I at first thought that Mr. W. had stepped on the snake,
but when the portion containing the head was not to be found, that
idea had to be given up.  We now followed the stream down a
short distance to the swampy grounds, where Mr. W. got a number of pretty
specimens of Skunk Cabbage.  A little fire was then built on the  hillside.

About a quarter past five we started for home.  In B. we
met Mr. S. he told us his father who is 93* yrs. old was still
living.  Mr. S. thinks that he keeps up his strength by drinking  daily
a quantity of blackberry wine.  Mr. W. said, that that had always
been his theory too, that one would become very old if one would only
drink wine long enough.  Mr. S. did not seem to see the joke.
We took the car in B. which brought home before 6 o'clock.  The day was
        