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Page 18
The young man made a partial acquaintance with lumbering operations at
Bangor; had his sublime ideas of the nobility of the aborigines of the
country somewhat discomposed by the experience of a day spent in the
Indian settlement at Oldtown; found a decent shelter at Mattawamkeag
Point, and, at last, with an exultant bound of heart, struck into the
forest.
The only road through this solitary domain was the rough path made by
lumbermen, in hauling supplies to the various camps, scattered at
intervals through the dense wilderness, extending seventy-five miles,
from Mattawamkeag Point to the British boundary.
Here Nature was found in magnificent wildness and disarray, her hair
quite unkempt. Great pines, shooting up immense distances in the sky
skirted the path and flung their green-gray, trailing mosses abroad on
the breeze; crowds of fir, spruce, hemlock, and cedar trees stood
waving aloft their rich, dark banners; clusters of tall, white
birches, scattered here and there, relieved and brightened the sombre
evergreen depths, and the maple with its affluent foliage crowned each
swell of the densely covered land. Here and there, a scarlet tree or
bush shot out its sanguine hue, betokening the maturity of the season
and the near approach of autumn's latest splendor. Big boulders of
granite, overlaid with lichens, were profusely ornamented with crimson
creepers. Everything appeared in splendid and wasteful confusion.
There were huge trees with branches partially torn away; others, with
split trunks leaning in slow death against their fellows; others,
prostrate on the ground; and around and among all, grew brakes and
ferns and parasitic vines; and nodded purple, red, and golden berries.
The brown squirrels ran up and down the trees and over the tangled
rubbish, chirping merrily; a few late lingering birds sang little
jerky notes of music, and the woodpecker made loud tapping sounds
which echoed like the strokes of the woodman's axe. The air was rich
and balmy,--spiced with cedar, pine, and hemlock, and a thousand
unknown odors.
The path through this wild of forest was rude and difficult, but the
travellers held on their way unflinchingly,--the horse with
unfaltering courage and patience, and his rider with unceasing wonder
and delight.
At noon they came to a halt, just where the sun looked down golden and
cheery on a little dancing rivulet that babbled by the wayside. Here
C�sar received his oats, for which his master had made room in his
portmanteau, at the expense, somewhat, of his own convenience. The
young man partook of a hearty lunch and resigned himself to dreams of
life under the greenwood tree.
After an hour's rest, again in the saddle and on--on, through
recurring scenes of wildness, waste, and beauty. Just as the stars
began to glint forth and the traveller and horse felt willing perhaps
to confess to a little weariness, they saw the light of the expected
cabin fire in the distance. C�sar gave a low whinny of approval and
hastened on.
Two or three red-shirted, long-bearded men gave them a rude welcome.
They blanketed and fed C�sar, and picketed him under a low shed built
of logs.
John, as hungry as a famished bear, drank a deep draught of a black
concoction called tea, which his friends here presented to him, ate a
powerful piece of dark bread, interlarded with fried pork, drew up
with the others around the fire, and, in reply to their curious
questionings, gave them the latest news from the outside world.
For this information he was rewarded by the strange and stirring
adventures of wilderness life they related during the quickly flitting
evening hours.
They told of the scores who went into the forest in the early part of
winter, not to return until late in the spring; of snow-storms and
packs of wolves; of herds of deer and moose; they related thrilling
stories of men crushed by falling trees, or jammed between logs in the
streams, together with incidents of the long winter evenings, usually
spent by them in story telling and card playing. Thus he became
acquainted with the routine of camp life.
Wearied at last with the unaccustomed fatigues of the day, he wrapped
himself in his cloak, placed his portmanteau under his head for a
pillow and floated off to dreamland, under the impression that this
gypsying sort of life, was just the one of all others he should most
like to live.
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