After awhile, Fanny, Rachel, and I, wandered off to the river side, first crossing a brook, by a fallen tree, in the fading light. We had left the East Branch behind us, and sat now watching the pretty whirling ripples of the wild Wissatacook, swiftest of the Penobscot's tributaries. At last, then, we had entered on our gipsy life. Would all be happy as now, or would rains and disasters follow? Would the joyous thoughts and refreshing existence of the woods only come and go away useless, like those water-drops down the river, or lead our aspirations, like the blue smoke, upward? Suddenly the smoke suggested other thoughts. and we went back to the camp, and for the first time in our lives, tasted fried pork and crackers. Well, it was not quite unsuccessful, and we hoped for something better to-morrow, and had it. Tea without milk was not intolerable either, only so great were the demands upon the sugar, that Mr. B. became its guardian, at once, and kept close the string of the sack. We sat up awhile; for it did not take long to clear away the things;" we looked at the stars, and the fire, and the trees, and each other, and the picturesque red-shirted figures passing to and fro with great logs, or with waterpails; we were very happy; we sung songs and hymns; and did not like it overmuch, when H., beginning thus promptly his tyranny, sent us to bed very early, and then sat up himself. How inconceivably strange it was, to lie on the ground, wrapped in our blankets, with only a tent above our heads, and a camp-fire before us; for the tent, of course, was open on that side. The air seemed cool, if we popped our heads out into it; but the tent was full of warmth-sometimes too much warmthand occasionally, though rarely, a trifle of smoke. For me, I lay awake an hour, and then slept, I may say, enthusiastically. One or two were less fortunate; but they declared it was worth lying awake for. No sound but the wind in the trees, and the crackling flames-think of it!

Besides early bed-time, H. established a rule that we should rise every day at five, and the ladies should have exclusive possession of the forest and river for half an hour, the gentlemen taking their turn afterwards.

To these delightful morning ablu

tions, we owed, no doubt, much of the health and comfort of the journey. At six we breakfasted-fried pork and crackers for the second and last time. We had brought no other provisions (except tea and sugar), relying on the woods to furnish our supplies, which, so far, they had not done. Still, we were glad to have to come down to the simplest fare at the outset, so as to know that we could do it. Indeed, in respect to fried pork and crackers, one finds after a day's tramp, that-but perhaps I had better stop.

At any rate, the gentlemen were pleased to compliment our freshness of appearance in the morning, nor was Stacy, our guide, content with this partial encomium. (I intend to write the whole truth, the whole, or none.) Said H., who had observed his scrutinizing eye dwelling on one or another of the party, "Mr. Stacy, will these ladies get through to the top?" That's what they will do," responded he, energetically. "I tell you, there's no better grit to be scared up anywhere than those women have!" If we had quailed for one moment during the excursion, these words would have inspired us again.

66

I

While the final preparations were being made, we watched with a sort of lingering regret the smouldering reremains of our fire, dying away into blank daylight. At seven we left, with packs somewhat diminished in weight, the gentlemen remarked at first. believe that after a mile or two they changed their opinion. Our way at first led along a high bank, above the river, through the same rank growth of aster and golden-rod; we went strolling on, with our long staves of black birch, beneath trees higher than before; still no scrambling or real difficulty yet. Sometimes we stopped to rest; once at a deserted lumberers' camp, built of logs, with fire-place in the middle, " deaconseat" on each side, and sleeping-places still littered with decayed fir-boughs, behind. Close by, stood the stable-a more imposing edifice than the house. During these halts, Alfred would make impetuous efforts to catch fish, while Ben strolled before us with a gun, having about equal success, that is, none at all.

At last we must leave our friendly path, ford the river, and plunge into deeper woods. The transit was effected by aid of our strong guides, who grasped

little lake, as large as Jamaica (near Boston), rippling almost feet; close beside us was an old, wooden dam, roughly built years by the first lumberers, to flood the ok below at the proper time. KatahA lake is the source of the South ranch of the swift Wissaticook, while he North Branch almost encircles Katahdin. Look in Colton's atlas, and you will find precisely where we were, though the names are not given.

The little waves rippled pleasantly on the yellow beach as we came down upon it, and the sun shone so warmly that we were glad to clamber down into the shade of the old dam, which looked so quiet and gray, that nature seemed to have adopted it as willingly as if beavers had made it, and it did not seem to interfere with that loneliness we loved. The brook slipped through it, and went dashing on, among great rounded rocks, with deep, dark, whirling pools, offering suggestions of superb trout, which it proved hard to fulfill. Among these rocks we perched ourselves, and I afterwards pilfered the folowing saucy sketch from H.'s pocketbook:

"Katahdin Lake, 2 P.M.-Stacy, delighting himself by catching fish in the lake; and McClane delighting us by making a fire to cook them; Alfred, rather dissatisfied with hooks and brooks; Ben, eyeing Katahdin through a spyglass, who eyes him back, quite undisturbed; the rest of the company seeking shade. B. rather sleepy on one side of the dam; C. and Rachel wide awake on the other; Fanny below, letting down her hair over the water, like a bloomerized mermaid; Mary and Theo. trying to balance themselves, in great discomfort, upon a sharp, smooth rock, amid peals of laughter; Kate climbing over similar rocks, in a restless manner, as if she had been cheated of her usual exercise to-day, and meant to make up for it somehow; finally, Alice and H. pledging each other in copious tin cups of cold biscuit and water."

How delighted we were, when it was decided to remain for the night at this pleasant place, catch a liberal supply of fish, and prepare for a laborious walk next day. We were not at all tired, and could easily have gone further; for we had only walked seven miles, though those were forest miles, to be sure.

But

we all felt stronger and better than when we left home. It only seemed absurd that strong and active women should go anywhere else. I can scarcely look back upon a more blissful memory than that sunny afternoon by the lake; soul and body seemed alike satisfied; trout and tranquillity ruled the hour. (N. B. They caught a hundred fish and then stopped.) The freedom of the woods descended deeper and deeper into us, all obstacles seemed removed, and everything looked easier than we had expected.

As for the mountain, nobody can ever imagine how glorious it was that afternoon, changing with the waning sunlight, that sank and faded behind it. The summit was four miles from us in an air-line, and twelve by our track. It was the most personal mountain I had ever seen; more so than Monadnock; far more so, from its isolation, than any of the large family of White Mountains-as, indeed, the abrupt height is much greater the surrounding country being lower. Alfred compared it to Vesuvius, which he had seen, and we were always impressed with its volcanic appearance. It stood out magnificent and lonely in a sea of woods-square, and jagged at the top; while a projecting shoulder on one side gave us a glimpse of its terrible basin, or crater, whose bare cliffs, one thousand feet high, we could see without a glass. The white" slides" were barer and nearer, and at the foot of one of them, half way up the mountain, Stacy pointed out our next night's camping-ground. But, after all we had heard of the perpetual clouds and storms, in which this mystic mountain-home of the Indian Pomola was encircled, it seemed strange that it should be so clear and unforbidding now. There was no gorgeous sunset that night, however; but over the whole height there grew a gradual, soft film, and the peak retired further and further away, as if following the light over the western horizon. A few small and placid clouds just lingered round its brow, -reddish, brown, and golden—while the lake below began to be gently ruffled by the evening breeze.

But I think it is time to draw upon a certain epic, which was made by the company on our return, being a veritable history of our progress. Most of it was written in the steamboat, Rachel acting as scribe, while the other passen

gers, drawing round, looked on with wonder, and one asked me confidentially. "if that was the young lady who wrote verses for the newspapers." Here is a specimen :

"But now we'll bid our lyre awake,
To sing the glories of the lake.
Beyond it King Katahdin towered,
With sunset glories richly dowered.
The horizon was shrouded with silvery haze,
That ethereal veil of our autumn days;
The travelers wander here and there,
To camp-ground, or to lake repair;
Some catch the fish, some sketch the view;
Workers there are, and idlers, too;
Beneath the dam the latter rest,
Reading aloud, with eager zest,
Those words of our great Emerson,

Which from the winds and waves have won
That harmony of rhyme and rune,
Which chimes with changing nature's tune;
And then the autumn evening long
Was passed in merry games and song.
In the night the loon's laugh, clear and shrill,
Sounded from every echoing hill,

And we heard, above the wild wind's roar,
The tramp of the moose on the forest floor."

That last line means something; it brings me to an adventure, with a preliminary to it. That night as we sat singing, and Kate's rich voice was mounting up in the fine chorus of the "Old Kentucky Home," suddenly, "Hush-a footstep!" cried Fanny, melodramatically, and hush it was. And a footstep it was, too; for, listening intently, we heard the distinct but cautious tread of four feet, receding into the bushes. "Moose," said McClane, briefly, and explained that our fires were made in a moose path, where they came down to drink. Out went our guide, into the darkness, with a rifle, but came back unsuccessful, though we had heard the rifle crack; and next day we found that the pretty creature had made its way to the water, and refreshed itself, in spite of us. We were glad enough that they did not shoot it, and, as I timidly remarked to C., "Suppose it had been a man, he might have been killed." "Certainly," he coolly replied, "for we knew there was nothing outside but what ought to be killed," a rather startling view, and, perhaps, a little exclusive, we thought.

Now for the adventure. "Wake up, boys, Billy Kirby is going to die," as the Howadji has it. Just as we had got our birch cups and platters ready (for we had them fresh at each meal, and burned them afterwards, the most thorough housekeeping we had ever known), we heard, close to us, bang!

bang! two rifle shots in quick succession. We looked round, and there lay our private arsenal, against a tree! Who could it be? We had felt as far from men as if we were in the middle of the ocean. Some cried, "L. has followed us after all," and we all rushed out. H. and I ran to the lake side, and there lay the gun, and there stood such a figure-clothes ragged and torn from the woods, face haggard, wild eyes like blue fire, hair dripping from a hasty ablution; he looked intoxicated, or insane, and turned out only sleepless and hungry; a wandering hunter, who had come through on our track from Hunt's, since 2 P. M. the day before, lost his way in the "fathoms five" bog, and had no sleep. Our woodsmen took his measure at a glance, and took him to their hearts at once-we took him to our breakfast. He had partridges for our larder, having had better luck than we, and, moreover, kept us supplied from that moment. He was a Lowell man, but had been to California, and everywhere else; he wore a gay Mexican poncho, and half the time went bareheaded, with elf locks, and keen, metallic blue eyes; and Ben christened him "Mr. Wildfire."

It had rained the night previous, and we feared a wet day; but the morning was only cold and raw. This showed the mountain in a new aspect of wonder. Instead of that radiant outline of filmy brightness, there was now a vast castle of chill gray cloud, with dark towers of precipice frowning here and there, between. It was no longer our summer friend, but the gloomy and awful abode

of Pomola. We remembered what storms others had suffered on that height; and what Thoreau said, that it seemed a slight insult to the gods to climb their mountains; and we shuddered to think that our next night's camp would be within that circle of white, soft, cold, vaporous mystery. Should we dare it? But, moment by moment, clouds went and came, and always more went than came, and at last the sunlight once more shone brightly on the woodfringed lakes, and we went up to breakfast as aforesaid.

That morning we walked four miles to Roaring Brook, and it was exciting enough to know that now we were at the real base of the mountain; here we talked an hour, and while Stacy fried the fish, we sat upon a sturdy pine

trunk, which McClane had promptly felled for our bridge, after which the same enterprising person climbed the tallest spruce in the neighborhood, and threw down the topmost spire to us.

After dinner we began to go up in earnest, and sometimes went astray a little, and learned the difference between even a spotted trail" and the untried forest-not that any path is cleared in either case, but that the former is always a practicable track, and you may be sure it does not end in a swamp, a cliff, or a jungle. Three miles more, and we struck Avalanche Brook, beside whose brink we threw ourselves down, in as much delight as if there were no other water in the world. Indeed, it is no fancy to say, that to sight, taste, and touch, such water is as different from the water of civilization as the snow of Vermont is from the snow of Broadway. It was more than all our previous excitements, to look up through a vista of green woods, and see the bright water bubbling and rushing among white rocks and cliffs, seeming as if a water-spout had just burst in the sky. Up we soon began to go, bounding from rock to rock, now in the water, now out of it, now slipping, now springing, as if our limbs had ceased to be brittle, and the mountain air had transformed us to india-rubber. We went so fast it seemed like flying, and the guides kept checking us. Two miles were passed without knowing it. We came closer and closer into a gorge of the mountain, with glimpses upward of the frowning peak, soon lost again high walls on each side, and enchanting visions behind us, of miles of level country, all one forest, framed in a foreground of green boughs, or else

great granite jambs," like the highland descriptions in the "Bothie." But we were growing tired, especially during some detours through the woods, and it was becoming darker and colder. The wind blew fiercely down from the heights, and our leaders looked a little anxious; more so, when we approached our camping-ground, and heard the report of our returning pioneers; water was far off, the wood was white birchgood kindling, but poor fuel-worse yet, the wind blew so that no tent could be raised, and scarcely would the fire burn. And here were we, wet, cold, tired, hungry. But what of that? We rose with the crisis. This was

what we had come for; to take nature as she was, and see all sides-we should have been defrauded with only sunshine. So we felt, and so we said, and our companions were bright again instantly, seeing that we were. One thing was instantly settled, to change our ground further into the woods; the gentlemen were all soon set to work, and some of the ladies, too, while some of us dried ourselves as well as we could, with the smoke whirling furiously hither and thither, and often into our very faces, as we sat in our blankets. Soon a brighter flame blazed at a short distance, and presently came Messrs. C. and B. with great torches of birchbark to light us through the wood. Mr. Wildfire was invaluable, and his partridges delicious; some fish still remained also, and we tried a new method of cooking them, by roasting on sharp sticks before the fire, which proved quite successful. We could not raise our tents, because the smoke shifted every moment, and would have suffocated us; but one tent was spread for a couch for us women folk, above the invariable bed of hemlock, another was securely hung behind us, for a curtain against the furious blast; there was an immense fire, beyond which our companions were dimly seen curled in their shawls or blankets, on mother earth, taking such comfort as they could get. In spite of all our troubles, we had a merry evening. Fanny wandered about a great deal, wrapped in a long blanket, like an insane squaw, and kept turning and arranging a great many pairs of shoes before the fire, as if they were flapjacks. But the rest of us laughed a great deal at her, and at each other, and at anything but dear old Katahdin; and at last we went into a refreshing sleep, and nobody took cold. If we did wake occasionally, it was pleasant to look up, and listen to the young whirlwinds that came blustering down from the summit to twist and twirl the tree-tops, and peer down into our place of retreat.

The next morning rose perfectly magnificent. From our dressing-room in a sheltered nook by Avalanche Brook, we looked straight into the sunrise, as it came fresh and gorgeous over the far eastern horizon, and it thrilled a glow of hope all through us, to conquer the chill of that morning air. mountain peak, which seemed to hang sheer above us, was absolutely cloud

The