"Most beautifulOf forest trees—the lady of the woods."
"Most beautifulOf forest trees—the lady of the woods."
"Most beautiful
Of forest trees—the lady of the woods."
THE MAPLE-TREE.
This family is very numerous. "Nearly forty species are known, of which ten belong to the United States." 'The climate of New England is peculiarly favorable to their growth, as is shown by the perfection to which several of the most valuable species attain.' The Red Maple is most remarkable for the varying color of its leaves, which greatly beautify forest scenery. The leaves begin to turn in the latter part of summer and during the earlier part of autumn, from green to a deep crimson or scarlet. The forests of no other country present so beautiful a variety of coloring as our own; 'even corresponding climates with the same families bear no comparison.' The difference is said to depend "on the greater transparency of our atmosphere, and consequently greater intensity of the light; for the same cause which renders a much larger number of stars visible by night, and which clothes our flowering plants with more numerous flowers, and those of deeper, richer tints, gives somewhat of tropical splendor to our really colder parallels of latitude."
Of the Maple family we may briefly notice only one more, the Rock Maple, "which in all respects is the most remarkable tree of the family." While young, it is justly admired for its ornamental beauties as a shrub. When in a state of maturity, "for the purposes of art, no native wood possesses more beauty or a greater variety of appearance."
"In the forest the Rock Maple often attains great height, and produces a large quantity of timber. A tree in Blandford, which was four feet through at base and one hundred and eight feet high, yielded seven cords and a half of wood." It is said that the wood of this tree may be easily distinguished from the Red, or the River Maple, by pouring a few drops of sulphate of iron upon it. This wood turns greenish; that of the two former turns to a deep blue.
"In Massachusetts, between five and six hundred thousand pounds of sugar are annually made from the juice of the Rock Maple, valued at about eight cents a pound," yielding a revenue of about forty-four to fifty thousand dollars per annum. Of the sap, "the average quantity to a tree is from twelve to twenty-four gallons each season. In some instances it is much greater. A tree in Bernardstown, about six feet in diameter, favorably situated, produced in one instance a barrel of sap in twenty-four hours." "Dr. Rush cites an instance of twenty pounds and one ounce of sugar having been made within nine days, in 1789, from a single tree in Montgomery county, New York." In another instance, thirty-three pounds are said to have been produced from one tree in one season. A gentleman from Leverett informs me that in one season he obtained from one tree one hundred and seventy-five gallons of sap, which, if of average strength, would have made forty-three pounds of sugar.
The following remarks upon the Sugar Maple of Maine, from the "Third Annual Report" of Dr. Jackson's geological surveys in this state, will be read with interest, suggesting profitable hints to some. "The Acer Saccharinum, or Sugar Maple, is one of the most luxuriant and beautiful native forest trees in Maine, and abounds wherever the soil is of good quality. Its ascending sap is very rich in sugar, which is very readily obtained by means of a tap, bored with an augur half an inch in diameter, into the sap-wood of the tree, the sap being collected in the spring of the year, when it first begins to ascend, and before the foliage puts forth. It is customary to heap snow around the roots or stumps of the trees, to prevent their putting forth their leaves so soon as they otherwise would, for the juices of the tree begin to be elaborated as soon as the foliage is developed, and will not run.
"After obtaining a quantity of Maple sap, it is poured into large iron or tinned copper kettles, and boiled down to a thick sirup; and after ascertaining that it is sufficiently concentrated to crystallize or grain, it is thrown into casks or vats, and when the sugar has formed, the molasses is drained off through a plug-hole slightly obstructed by tow. But little art is used in clarifying the sirup, and the chemist would regard the operations as very rude and clumsy; yet a very pleasant sugar, with a slightly acid taste, is made, and the molasses is of excellent flavor, and is largely used during the summer for making sweetened water, which is a wholesome and delicious beverage.
"The sugar frequently contains oxide of iron, which it dissolves from the rusty potash kettles in which it is commonly boiled down, and hence it turns tea black. A neat manufacturer will always take care to scour out his kettles with vinegar and sand, so that the sugar may be white. He will also take care not to burn the sirup by urging the fire toward the end of the operation. If his sirup is acid, a little clear lime-water will saturate it, and the lime will principally separate with the molasses or with the scum. The sirup should be skimmed carefully during the operation. It is not worth while, perhaps, to describe the process of refining sugar; but it is perfectly easy to make Maple sugar as white as the best double-refined loaf-sugar of commerce. It would, however, lose its peculiar acid flavor, which now distinguishes it from ordinary cane sugar.
"Were it generally known how productive are the groves of Sugar Maples, we should, I doubt not, be more careful, and not exterminate them from the forest, as is now too frequently done. It is, however, difficult to spare any forest trees in clearing a farm by fire; but groves in which they abound might be spared from the unrelenting ax of the woodman. Maple-trees may also be cultivated, and will become productive in twenty or thirty years; and it would certainly be one of our most beautiful pledges of regard for posterity to plant groups of Maples in convenient situations upon our lands, and to line the road sides with them. I am sure that such a plan, if carried into effect, would please publictastein more ways than one, and we might be in part disfranchised from dependence on the cane plantations of the West Indies.
"The following statistics will serve as an example of the products of the Sugar Maple in Maine; and it will also be noted that the whole work of making Maple sugar is completed in three or four weeks from the commencement of operations.
"This, at twelve and a half cents a pound, would be worth $4,581.
"It must be also remarked, that the manufacture of Maple sugar is carried on at a season of the year when there is little else to be done; and if properly-shaped evaporating vessels were used, a much larger quantity of sugar could be made in the season."
CHAPTER III.
Beech-trees.—Purity, Size, Fruit.—Efforts of Bears after the Nut.—The Uses to which its Leaves are appropriated.—Mr. Lauder's Testimony, &c.—Use of Wood.—Singular Exemption.—The novel Appearance of the Leaves of a Species in Germany.—Chestnut-tree. —Remarkable one on Mount Ætna.—Balm of Gilead.—Willow.—Ash. —Basswood, or Tiel-tree.—The Poplar.—The Hemlock.—Beauties of its Foliage.—Uses.—Hickory.—The Fir-tree.—Spruce-tree.— Its conical Form.—Uses.—American Larch.—Success of the Dukes of Athol in planting it on the Highlands of Scotland.
The Beech is a tree of no ordinary interest; first, as being more free from impurities than any tree with which we are acquainted. The bark is very clean and smooth, of a light lead color, sprinkled with fine dots of black, so that it has a grayish appearance. It attains the height of sixty to eighty feet. The lower branches are thrown out in a horizontal attitude, while the upper ones assume somewhat of an erect position. The leaves are of graceful proportions, and profuse, forming a dense shade. Some seasons this tree produces an abundance of nuts, which grow in round, prickly burrs, very similar to chestnuts. The nuts are triangular in shape, and supply the pigeon, partridge, squirrels, bears, and other animals with food. The squirrel will hoard up in his little burrow many quarts of these nuts, where he eats them at his leisure during the seasons of winter and spring. It is quite amusing to see the little fellows repeat their visits to their underground habitations, or leap from branch to branch, with their cheeks stuffed nearly to bursting with the precious Beech-nut. The Beech does not dispense its fruit until after severe frosts occur, when the burr either opens or drops from the limb where it grew; in the former case, after a smart frost at night, the early morning breeze shakes them from their elevated position, when they come rattling down upon the dry leaves like showers of hail. Impelled by hunger, bears often climb and gather the nut before it is ripe. I have frequently seen, during my backwoods excursions, the topmost limbs broken off and pulled in toward the trunk of the tree, some of them three inches in diameter, until the whole of the top branches were furled in, forming a tufted circle fifty feet in air.
Burned and cracked, the Beech-nut makes a very good substitute for coffee. "The leaves were formerly used in Britain, and are to this day in some parts of Europe, for filling beds." Evelyn says that "its very leaves, which form a natural and most agreeable canopy all the summer, being gathered about the fall, and somewhat before they are much frost-bitten, afford the best and the easiest mattresses in the world to lay under our quilts instead of straw; because, besides their tenderness and loose lying together, they continue sweet for seven or eight years long; before which time straw becomes musty and hard. They are used by divers persons of quality in Dauphine, and in Switzerland I have sometimes lain on them to my very great refreshment. So as of this tree it may properly be said,
"'The woods a house, the leaves a bed.'"
"We can," says Sir Thomas Dick Lauder, "from our own experience, bear testimony to the truth of what Evelyn says here as to the excellence of Beech leaves for mattresses. We used always to think that the most luxurious and refreshing bed was that which prevails universally in Italy, and which consists of an absolute pile of mattresses filled with the elastic spathe of the Indian corn—which beds have the advantage of being soft as well as elastic—and we have always found the sleep enjoyed on them to be peculiarly sound and restorative. But the beds made of Beech leaves are really not a whit behind them in these qualities, while the fragrant smell of green tea which the leaves retain is most gratifying."
"The wood of the Beech is preferred to all other wood for plane stocks, saw handles, and cylinders used in polishing glass.
"Botanists are unable to find more than one kind of Beech, believing that the distinctions of 'white' and 'red' Beech in common use among the people describes but one species.
"The Beech is said never to be struck by lightning. In traveling through a forest country, many trees of a different species, such as the Oak, and, more commonly than any tree within my observation, the Hemlock, may be seen riven by lightning, but never the Beech.
"A most remarkable species of the Beech is said to have been discovered by accident in Germany. In early spring, when the leaves of the purple Beech are agitated by the wind, during bright sunshine, their clear red gives the tree the appearance of being on fire: an effect, Bosc observes, so truly magical, that it is scarcely credible by those who have not seen it."—Loudon.
THE CHESTNUT-TREE.
This tree is distinguished by the rapidity of its growth and the excellence of its wood for posts and rails—the latter lasting half a century—the good quality of the nut it bears, and the age and size to which it attains.
"Some of the most remarkable trees of Europe are Chestnut-trees. On Mount Ætna is the famousCastagno di cento cavalli, so called from its having sheltered a hundred mounted cavaliers. Brydon found this, in 1770, two hundred and four feet in circumference, and it had the appearance of five distinct trees. A century before, when seen by Kircher, they were united, so that probably it had been one tree. The Forworth Chestnut, in England, was fifty-two feet in girth in 1820, when measured by Strutt. Near Sanserre, in France, is a tree of more than ten feet in diameter at six feet from the ground. It is supposed to be a thousand years old."
The largest measurements given of the Chestnut in this country are of one in Bolton, with an erect, undivided trunk forty or fifty feet; three feet from the ground it measured seventeen feet in circumference.
"Southeast of Monument Mountain, near the road leading to Sheffield, in a pasture, an old Chestnut measured, in September, 1844, 'at the ground, thirty feet two inches in circumference; at four feet, twenty-one feet in circumference: the branches extended sixty feet.'"
The Balm of Gilead, the Willow, of which there are twenty-one species, the Ash and Basswood, the Poplar and Hemlock, all afford specimens of great magnitude, as well as possess properties of much value; to which list we may add the Hickory, chiefly for the great variety of valuable purposes to which the wood is appropriated. "Few trees contribute so much to the beauty of woods in autumn; the colors of all at that season are rich, and each species has its own. The fruit of some of the species in its wild state vies with the best of foreign nuts."
THE FIR-TREE.
"In its native forests the Fir-tree varies from two to ten feet in diameter, and from one hundred to one hundred and eighty feet in height. A stump is mentioned as still found on the Columbia River, which measures forty-eight feet in circumference at three feet from the ground, exclusive of its very thick bark."
THE SPRUCE-TREE.
This tree presents a tapering trunk, with a top of mathematical exactness, a regular cone. They attain to the height of seventy or one hundred feet, measuring at the base—the largest I have ever seen—about eight feet in circumference. Lightness, strength, and elasticity are the distinguishing qualities of this wood; and, owing to this, it is extensively used in ship-building, and the frame-work of houses.
The Hemlock is a large tree, often measuring fifteen feet in circumference at the base; the column rises to an elevation of from seventy to one hundred feet; it holds its size remarkably until it reaches the principal limbs, two thirds its height, when it tapers rapidly to the extremity. Its foliage is beautiful for its softness, and forms the principal ingredient in the bed of lumbermen. The use of the boughs for brooms is known to the good country people throughout New England. By persons of classical taste, it is considered the most beautiful of the evergreens.
The author of Massachusetts Reports on Trees, &c., to whom I am much indebted for many of the preceding observations, remarks of the young Hemlock, "that in the beginning of summer each twig is terminated with a tuft of yellowish-green, recent leaves, surmounting the darker green of the former year; the effect, as an object of beauty, is equaled by very few flowering shrubs, and far surpasses that produced by any other tree." The bark is valuable in tanning leather, and makes excellent fuel. This tree grows in immense quantities in the northeast part of Maine, often occupying acres of ground, to the exclusion of nearly all other trees. Its wood is more valued for boards than formerly; its close grain and hardness fit it peculiarly for flooring. "It is much used in the large Atlantic cities as a substitute for stone in the pavement of streets, for which purpose it is sawn into hexagonal (six-sided) blocks of eight inches in thickness, and eight, ten, or eighteen inches in breadth."
"The AmericanLarch, known very generally in New England by the aboriginal name of Hackmatack, is sometimes known to attain an elevation of seventy feet, but does not usually exceed forty or fifty feet." It has crowded tufts of leaves, not unlike those of the Spruce or Pine, much shorter than those of the latter, and more slender and graceful than those of the former, and of lighter green, so disposed on the ends of the branches as to make the foliage of the tree the lightest of all the forest trees, especially when compared with the great strength of the tree itself. "Late in autumn they turn to a soft, leather-yellow color, and in the first days of November fall." "It has a straight, erect, rapidly-tapering trunk, clothed with a bluish-gray bark, rather rough, with small roundish scales." The branches are numerous, and most firmly attached to the stem, shooting out at apparently measured distances from each other, generally in a horizontal position, which makes its ascent quite as convenient as a ladder; and, as it grows mostly on open or meadow land, it is often climbed by timber-hunters, affording a good prospect of the forest on the opposite side of the meadow or intervales.
The wood of the Hackmatack is distinguished by the following qualities: "Close-grained, compact, of reddish color, remarkable for its great weight, strength, and durability," the latter even being greater than the Oak. "On these accounts it is preferred before all other woods for knees, beams, and top timbers in ship-building."
The Larch is extensively cultivated in Europe, particularly in Scotland. Though in America it is most generally found in low meadow land, where is depth of soil and plenty of moisture, it has nevertheless "the property of flourishing on surfaces almost without soil, thickly strewn with fragments of rocks, on the high, bleak sides and tops of hills, where vegetation scarcely exists."
The following account of the experiments made by the Dukes of Athol, on the Highlands of Scotland, is so encouraging and deeply interesting, that, although long, I insert it, hoping the example may be followed in appropriate positions in this country:
"The estates of the Dukes of Athol are in the north of Scotland, in the latitude of nearly 50° north. Between 1740 and 1750, James, duke of Athol, planted more than twelve hundred Larch-trees in various situations and elevations, for the purpose of trying a species of tree then new in Scotland. In 1759 he planted seven hundred Larches over a space of twenty-nine Scotch acres, intermixed with other kinds of forest trees, with the view of trying the value of the Larch as a timber tree. This plantation extended up the face of a hill from two hundred to four hundred feet above the level of the sea. The rocky ground of which it was composed was covered with loose and crumbling masses of mica slate, and was not worth above £3 a year altogether. Before he died, in 1764, he was satisfied of the superiority of the Larch as a timber over other firs, even in trees only eighteen or nineteen years old. His successor, John, duke of Athol, first conceived the idea of planting Larch by itself as a forest tree, and of planting the sides of the hills about Dunkeld. He planted three acres with Larches alone, at an elevation of five or six hundred feet above the level of the sea, on a soil not worth a shilling an acre. He also planted over four hundred acres on the sides of hills before his death, in 1774. His son, Duke John, continuing the execution of his father's plans, had planted in 1783 279,000 trees. Observing the rapid growth and hardy nature of the Larch, he determined to cover with it the steep acclivities of mountains of greater altitude than any that had yet been tried. He therefore inclosed a space of twenty-nine acres on the rigid summit of Craig-y-barns, and planted a strip entirely with Larches among the crevices and hollows of the rocks, where the least soil could be found. At this elevation none of the larger kinds of natural plants grew, so that the grounds required no previous preparation of clearing. This plantation was formed in 1785 and 1786. Between that year and 1791 he planted six hundred and eighty acres with 500,000 Larches, the greater part only sprinkled over the surface, on account of the difficulty of procuring a sufficient number of plants. Besides a plantation of seventy acres for the purpose of embellishment, he had, in 1799, extended his plantations of Larches over an additional space of eight hundred acres, six hundred of which were planted entirely, though thinly, with Larch. These took 800,000 plants.
"Observing, with satisfaction and admiration, the luxuriant growth of the Larch in all situations, and its hardihood even in the most exposed regions, the duke resolved on pushing entire Larch plantations still further to the summit of the highest hills.
"He therefore determined to cover with Larch sixteen hundred Scotch acres, situated from nine hundred to twelve hundred feet above the level of the sea. Its soil, presenting the most barren aspect, was strewed over thickly with fragments of rock, and vegetation of any kind scarcely existed upon it. 'To endeavor to grow ship-timber," writes the duke, "among rocks and shivered fragments of schist, such as I have described, would have appeared to a stranger extreme folly, and money thrown away; but, in the year 1800, I had for more than twenty-five years so watched and admired the hardihood and the strong vegetative powers of the Larch, in many situations as barren and as rugged as any part of this range, though not so elevated, as quite satisfied me that I ought, having so fair an opportunity, to seize it.'
"Having now no doubt whatever of the successful growth of the Larch in very elevated situations, the duke still further pursued his object of coveringallhis mountainous regions with that valuable wood. Accordingly, a space to the northward of the one last described, containing two thousand nine hundred and fifty-nine Scotch acres, was immediately inclosed, and planted entirely with Larch.
"This tract, lying generally above the region of broom, furze, juniper, and long heath, required no artificial clearing. An improved mode of planting was employed here, that of using young plants only, two or three years' seedlings, put into the ground by means of an instrument invented by the duke instead of the common spade.
"In 1824, the growth of the Larch in this last tract, calledLoch Ordie Forest, having greatly exceeded the sanguine hopes and expectations of the duke, he determined on adding to it an extensive adjoining tract, consisting of two thousand two hundred and thirty-one Scotch acres, denominated Loch Hoishnie. The preparations of fencing, clearing (where that was necessary), making roads, and procuring plants from different nurserymen, occupied the time till October, 1825, when the planting commenced, and was carried on in such good earnest that the whole was finished by December, 1826.
"The planting of this forest appears to have terminated the labors of the duke in planting. He and his predecessors had planted more than fourteen millions of Larch plants, occupying over ten thousand English acres. It has been estimated that the whole forest on mountain ground, planted entirely with Larch, about six thousand five hundred Scotch acres, will, in seventy-two years from the time of planting, be a forest of timber fit for building the largest ships. Before being cut down for this purpose, it will have been thinned to about four hundred trees to an acre. Supposing each tree to yield fifty cubic feet of timber, its value, at a shilling a foot (one half the present value), will give £1,000 an acre, or, in all, a sum of £6,500,000 sterling."[4]
THE PINE-TREE, OR FOREST LIFE.
PART II.
CHAPTER I.
The Pines.—White Pines: rank claimed for this Variety.— Predilections.—Comparison instituted.—Pitch and Norway Pines. —White Pine.—Magnitude.—New York Pines.—Lambert's Pine on Northwest Coast.—Varieties.—Its Rank.—Great variety of purposes to which it is devoted.—Great Pine near Jackson Lake.—Capital Invested.—Hands employed on the Penobscot.
After the foregoing brief notice of some of the most interesting trees, we come at length to consider that species which constitutes the theme of the following pages.
ThePinehas been appropriately called the Monarch of the Forest. Taken all in all, it is the crowning master-piece of all woody plants. This avowal is made in full view of what has been said respecting other specimens of the vegetable kingdom. From early education, we are accustomed to regard some things as before others in point of merit, whether truth in the case would support our notions or not.
For trees we have our preferences. There is much of interest in every development of nature—much to admire, especially in the grandeur, the picturesque beauty, and sublimity of large forest trees. These things are so clearly defined in the mind of the botanist—so many excellencies does he discover in each genus, and every species of the respective families, that each succeeding description seems to place the last before every preceding one.
Mankind, pretty generally, are disposed to place the Oak at the head of the vegetable kingdom, and it is crowned monarch of the forest.
I was reared among the noble Pines of Maine, nestled in my cradle beneath their giant forms, and often has the sighing wind made music that has calmed me to repose as it gently played through their tasseled boughs. Often have I been filled with awe as I gazed upon their massive trunks and raised my eye to their cloud-swept tops.
When a child, even, I could never read the following eulogy on the Oak without a fit of jealousy:
"The Oak for grandeur, strength, and noble sizeExcels all trees which in the forest grow."
"The Oak for grandeur, strength, and noble sizeExcels all trees which in the forest grow."
"The Oak for grandeur, strength, and noble size
Excels all trees which in the forest grow."
Of the truth of this sentiment I could never feel persuaded; in fact, in only one particular is this true. In strength the Oak excels, but in towering grandeur and massive diameter the Pine far exceeds the Oak, and indeed all other North American trees. Properly there are but three species of the Pine. 1. The White Pine. 2. Pitch Pine. 3. The Norway, or Red Pine, as it is sometimes called.[5]The Red Pine is remarkable for its tall trunk; it sometimes rises eighty feet before it puts out a limb. I recollect cutting one on the Mattawamkeag River, which disembogues into the Penobscot, eighty-two feet before reaching a limb. They are sometimes found one hundred feet in height and four feet in diameter.
The Pitch Pine is inferior to the red in size. The largest measurements I have ever seen give to one a diameter of two and a half feet, and ninety feet height; to another a girth of seven feet at the ground, and eighty feet height. This Pine is chiefly valued for the excellence of its fuel; and for generating steam in working engines it is preferable to any other wood.[6]Formerly, in some parts of the country, it was found much larger than it now is. "Men are living in Massachusetts and Maine who remember that it was not uncommon to find them of more than a hundred feet in height and four or five feet in diameter."
At present the White Pine is altogether the most important of the species. In New England, particularly in the northern part, it is often found to measure one hundred and fifty feet in height.
It is said that not many years since pines were found in the eastern part of New York which measured two hundred and forty feet in height. "Lambert's Pine, on the Northwest Coast, is found growing to the height of two hundred and thirty feet, and Douglas's Pine, in the same region, the loftiest tree known, has been said to exceed three hundred feet." The traveler quoted above describes one of the following dimensions: "One specimen, which had been blown down by the wind—and this was certainly not the largest which I saw—was of the following dimensions: its entire length was two hundred and fifteen feet; its circumference, three feet from the ground, was fifty-seven feet nine inches (nineteen feet three inches in diameter); and at one hundred and thirty-four feet from the ground it was seventeen feet five inches" in circumference, or about six feet in diameter.[7]
In Doctor Dwight's Travels we have an account of a tree in Lancaster, New Hampshire, which measured two hundred and sixty-four feet in length. "Fifty years ago, several trees growing on rather dry land in Blandford, measured, after they were felled, more than thirteen rods and a half, or two hundred and twenty-three feet in length."
I have worked in the forests among this timber several years, have cut many hundreds of trees, and seen many thousands, but have never found one larger than the one I felled on a little stream which emptied into Jackson Lake, near the head of Baskahegan stream, in the eastern part of Maine. This was a "Pumpkin" Pine; its trunk was as straight and handsomely grown as a molded candle, and measured six feet in diameter four feet from the ground, without the aid of spur roots. It was about nine rods in length, or one hundred and forty-four feet, about sixty-five feet of which was free of limbs, and retained its diameter remarkably well. I was employed about one hour and a quarter in felling it. The afternoon was beautiful; every thing was calm, and to me the circumstances were deeply interesting. After chopping an hour or so, the mighty giant, the growth of centuries, which had withstood the hurricane, and raised itself in peerless majesty above all around, began to tremble under the strokes of a mere insect, as I might appear in comparison with it. My heart palpitated as I occasionally raised my eye to its pinnacle to catch the first indications of its fall. It came down at length with a crash which seemed to shake a hundred acres, while the loud echo rang through the forest, dying away among the distant hills. It had a hollow in the butt about the size of a barrel, and the surface of the stump was sufficiently capacious to allow a yoke of oxen to stand upon it. It made five logs, and loaded a six-ox team three times. The butt log was so large that the stream did not float it in the spring, and when the drive was taken down we were obliged to leave it behind, much to our regret and loss. At the boom that log would have been worth fifty dollars.
Of the White Pine there are varieties, which by some are attributed to peculiar characteristics of the various locations in which they grow. That variety called sapling Pine, bull sapling, &c., usually grows on high, hard-wood land, or a mixture of evergreens and deciduous trees; particularly on the boundaries which mark damp, low forests and the lower border of ridges. The pumpkin Pine is generally found on flat land and in ravines; also on abrupt ridges, called horsebacks, where the forest is dense.
The sap or outside of the sapling Pine is much thicker than that of the pumpkin Pine. I have seen it more than six inches thick on the former, and less than half an inch on the latter. This difference is accounted for by the rapidity with which the sapling grows, and the tardiness with which the swamp Pine matures, which, as before intimated, is to be attributed to the difference in their location.
Of course, we must yield to the opinions of learned botanists; but while they maintain that these two are simply varieties of the same species, the proof seems insufficient to convince many whose daily occupation renders them most familiar with forest trees. If the difference is only attributable to soil and position, then we may reply that we have found the sapling in all possible locations. Besides, there are marked distinctions. The general contour differs much. The size, number, and position of the branches, the shape of the trunk, the toughness of the wood in the sapling, and the softness of that of the pumpkin Pine, all indicate a specific and essential difference. We have seen whole groves of saplings on low, swampy land. The same number of saplings are generally much sounder than an equal number of soft Pine.
The soft Pine-tree holds its diameter to a much greater length than the sapling. I have seen a log of the former twenty feet long, differing not more than an inch and a half in diameter at either end. In a sapling log of the same length there would be a difference of several inches.
There is one circumstance in the habits of this Pine worthy of note. As a general thing, they grow in clusters or communities. Indeed, this is a common characteristic of the Hemlock, the Cedar, and the Hackmatack.
But there is, however, a sort of nationality in the local attitude of the latter. While the Pines, growing in clusters, seem to constitute the aristocracy—families of nobility—the rest of the forest seems to make up the populace; and I may add, that backwoodsmen are accustomed to pay them the same deferential regard above other gentlemen foresters which is awarded to superiors in human society. Indeed, the Pine has claims upon our regard, not only on account of its unequaled dimensions, but "from the importance of its products in naval, and especially in civil and domestic architecture, in many of the arts, and in some instances in medicine."
"As it affords timber and boards of a greater size than any other soft-wooded tree, and is lighter and more free from knots, it is used in preference for the masts of ships, for the large beams, posts, and covering of wooden buildings, and for the frame-work of houses and bridges, as well as for clap-boards and shingles. The clearness, softness, and beauty of this wood recommend it for the panels and frames of doors, for wainscotings, for the frames of windows, for cornices and moldings, and for all the uses of the joiner. As it receives paint perfectly, it is employed for floors which are to be painted. Varnished without paint, it gradually takes a yellowish or light reddish color, and has considerable beauty. It is excellent for the carver in wood, and is used for the figure-heads of vessels; and as it takes gilding well, it is preferred for the frames of looking-glasses and pictures."
Its importance may be estimated, also, from the vast amount of employment it furnishes and the revenue it produces. Its history is full of interest from the hour it leaves the stump in the forest, through the various processes it passes until taken from the hold of the ship and piled away upon our market piers. The amount of employment it furnishes to lumbermen, mill-men, rafters, coasters, truckmen, merchants, and mechanics, exceeds that furnished by any other single product in Maine or the province of New Brunswick. On the Penobscot alone there are said to be ten thousand men engaged in lumbering.
CHAPTER II.
The Pine twenty-five Years ago.—Its rapid Disappearance.—Explorations. —Outfit.—Up-river Journeying.—Its Distance.—Mode of Nightly Encampment.—Cooking.—Disturbed Slumbers.—Ludicrous Fright.—Deer. —Encounter with Bears.—Mode of Exploring.—Forest Observatory.— Climbing Trees.—The Emotions excited by the View.—Necessity of Compass.—Nature's Compass.—The Return.—Annoyances from mischievous Bears.—Stumpage.—Permits.—Outfit and Return.—Crossing Carrying-places.—A Strong Man.—Skill of Boatmen.—Item of personal Experience.—Blind Path.—A Family in the Wilderness.—Things to be considered in locating Camps.
Allusion has been made to the peculiarity of the Pine-tree in associating together in clusters or families. It is now a rare thing to find a sufficient quantity of timber in one of those clusters to meet the demands of a team during the usual period of hauling, which is about three months.
Twenty-five or thirty years ago, large tracts of country were covered principally with Pine-trees. Those tracks seemed purposely located in the vicinity of lakes, large streams, and rivers; a winter's work could then be made contiguous to improved portions of the country, which rendered little previous exploration necessary. But the woodman's ax, together with the destructive fires which have swept over large districts from time to time, have, so to speak, driven this tree far back into the interior wilderness. In fact, the Pine seems doomed, by the avarice and enterprise of the white man, gradually to disappear from the borders of civilization, as have the Aborigines of this country before the onward march of the Saxon race.
The diminished size and number of these Pine communities, near the borders of civil and agricultural abodes, added to the fact that this tree has been pursued to wild and unknown forest regions, renders exploring expeditions previous to the commencement of a winter's campaign absolutely indispensable, at least to insure success. This labor is performed, more or less, at all periods of the year; but, perhaps, the more general and appropriate time is found to be during the earlier part of autumn. The work of exploring is often performed during the winter, while the crews are on the ground, in camp. The difficulty of traveling through deep snows is overcome by the use of the snow-shoe, which enables the wearer to walk upon the surface of the untrodden snow. This shoe is about three feet long by sixteen inches wide, oval before and tapering to a point behind. It is simply a flat net-work, made from thongs of green hide, surrounded by a slender frame or bow of wood. This net-work is fastened, near the middle, to the bottom of the boot, and the woodman, throwing himself along, one side at a time, with a lengthened pace-like stride, passes over the ground at a rapid rate.
When the business of timber-hunting is deferred until autumn, the following method is practiced: Two or three men accustomed to the business take the necessary provisions, which usually consists of ship-bread, salt pork, tea, sugar, or molasses; for cooking utensils, a coffee-pot or light tea-kettle, a tin dipper, sometimes a frying-pan, a woolen blanket or two for bed-clothes, and an ax, with gun and ammunition; all of which are put on board askiff, if the exploration is to be on the St. Croix, or on abateauif on the Penobscot River, with two sets of propellers, setting-poles for rapids, and paddles to be used on dead water.
With these slight preparations, away we start; now making our way up the main river, then shooting along up the less capacious branches; sometimes performing a journey of two hundred miles far into the interior, in those solitudes which never before, perhaps, echoed with the tones of the white man's voice. The location for our nightly encampments are selected in time to make the necessary arrangements for refreshment and repose, before the darkness shuts down over the dense wilderness that surrounds us. Selecting a proper site near some gushing spring, or where a murmuring streamlet plays along its romantic little channel, we pitch our tent, which formerly consisted of a slender frame of little poles, slightly covered on the top and at each end with long boughs, the front entirely open, before which burns the watch-fire, by whose light the deep darkness of a forest night is rendered more solemn and palpable.
In some instances a large blanket is spread over the frame; and when there are good reasons to expect rain, we haul our boat up, turn it bottom side up, and crawl beneath it, this proving a sure protection from the falling rain or dew. Of late, small portable tent-coverings are used, which prove very convenient.
Next the evening meal is prepared. Here the tea is thoroughly boiled, in the coffee-pot or tea-kettle, over the little fire. A thin slice of salt pork is cut, and, running a sharp stick through it, it is held over the fire and roasted, being withdrawn occasionally to catch the drippings on a cake of pilot or ship bread. This is a good substitute for buttered toast, the roasted pork making an excellent rasher. Sometimes we ate the pork raw, dipping it in molasses, which some relish; and though the recital may cause, in delicate and pampered stomachs, some qualms, yet we can assure the uninitiated that, from these gross simples, the hungry woodsman makes many a delicious meal. Afterpipedevotions (for little else ascends from forest altars, though we have sometimes heard the voice of prayer even in the logging swamps), we throw our weary limbs upon our boughy couches to seek repose in the slumbers of night.
Sometimes our slumbers are disturbed by the shrill whooping of the owl, whose residence is chosen in those lonely solitudes of dense woodlands, where this ghostly watchman of the night makes the wild wood reverberate with the echo of his whoo-ho-ho-whah-whoo! which is enough, as one has observed, to frighten a garrison of soldiers. Few sounds, I am certain, so really harmless in themselves, awaken such a thrill of terror, as it breaks suddenly upon the ear during the stillness and loneliness of the midnight hour.
As I lay one night encamped upon the banks of a small stream which contributed its mite to the accumulating waters of the Penobscot River, an opportunity presented itself of testing the strength of my nerves. It was during the midnight hour, when even the trees seemed to sleep profoundly. Not a zephyr moved a twig, and the silence which reigned was painful. Rendered somewhat restless from the combined circumstances of the previous day's labor and a hard bed, I lay musing upon an account which I had formerly read of a midnight attack upon a company of militia, during the sanguinary struggles of the Revolution, by a party of savages. In the midst of my revery, I fancied that I could almost hear the stealthy footsteps of the wily Indian, when a sudden scream from a tree-top, nearly over the spot where I lay, brought me upon my feet at a bound. Seizing my gun, I looked aloft to see if I could discover the author of my sudden fright. By the light of the fire which still burned in the front of the tent, I discovered a pair of large eyes, resembling those of a cat. In an instant the woods echoed with the sharp report of my gun, when down came his owlship with a summerset to the ground. I have often listened to the quaint old figure, "I was not brought up in the woods to be scared by an owl," yet I think few can listen to the whooping of this solitary bird in the solemnity and stillness of midnight without being conscious of their susceptibility to emotions of fear, even though the judgment is assured of the absence of all that could harm.
Sometimes the tramping of timid deer, attracted by the waning light of our watch-fire, or some roving beast of prey, attracted by the savory vapors of our evening meal, startle us from our slumbers. "Once, while on a timber-hunting excursion," said a mess-mate, "on the east branch of the Penobscot, the night being very mild, and feeling too much fatigued to make the usual preparations for security, we built our fire near the trunk of a large prostrate tree. When we laid down our heads were near the fallen tree, which protected us somewhat from the current of air, but we were without covering, except the spreading branches of the trees. We had not lain long before we heard a heavy tramping some little way off. It approached nearer and nearer, until the animal seemed directly upon us.
"As I lay upon my back, I turned my eyes upward, when they met the full gaze of a large bear, which stood with its fore paws on the log directly over my head. In an instant I sprang upon my feet, and, seizing a brand from the fire, I hurled it after him, at the same instant making the woods tremble with the echo of my voice.
"Alarmed at my sudden motions, and more than all at the fiery messenger, which emitted thousands of sparks as it whizzed along after him, glancing from tree to tree in its course, at each concussion emitting new volleys of fiery particles, without stopping to apologize for his intrusion upon our sleeping apartment, he plunged into the forest at full speed. By the rustling of dry leaves and the cracking of fallen limbs, we could hear him a long way off, with unabated energy fleeing from the object of his terror. Next morning we came across an old she-bear and her cubs. We had a spirited little dog with us, who instantly encountered the bear; but one blow from her paw completely disabled him, and his injuries proved so serious that we were obliged to kill the little fellow, much to our regret, for, of all places in the world, the companionship of a good dog is most valued in the woods. One of our men caught a cub; it struggled and whined, which soon attracted the attention of the old one. She at once rushed after him, and he was soon glad to drop his prize, but not until the old dam had nearly torn his clothes from his back.
Hunters shooting at deer and a drawing or a bear
Shooting Deer.——Black Bear.
"Arriving at length upon or near the territory to be explored, we haul our bateau safely on shore, and turn it bottom upward. Then, dividing our luggage into parcels, and making use of our blankets for knapsacks, we begin to traverse the wild forests, unfrequented except by the stately moose, the timid deer, the roaming black bear, and other wild animals of less note, whom we frequently disturb in their solitary haunts.
"The uneven surface of the country, together with the density of the forest, circumscribe the range of vision. To overcome this impediment, we ascend into the top of some lofty tree. Sometimes extensive views of the surrounding forest are obtained from the side of abrupt ridges, and from the top of aHorseback. This latter is an "extremely curious ridge, and consists of sand and gravel, built up exactly like the embankments for rail-roads, the slope on either side being about 30°, while it rises above the surrounding low lands" from thirty to ninety feet. Dr. Jackson speaks of one in particular, between Weston and Houlton, in the northeastern part of Maine, "the top of which is perfectly level, and wide enough for two carriages to pass abreast."
"Its surface was originally covered with Maple, Birch, and hard Pine-trees, while the low lands on either side are covered with a dense growth of Cedars. I could not help thinking, as I looked upon this natural embankment, that it would be easy for an antiquarian to mistake this ridge for a work of art, and to suppose that some of the aboriginal inhabitants of our country knew how to annihilate distance by rail-roads. My first impression respecting the geological origin of this embankment was that it was alluvial, and formed the bank on intervening shores of two lakes which existed in the low tracts, now covered with Cedars; but, on examining the nature of the materials of which it is composed, I became satisfied that it belonged to the formation of transported clay, sand, gravel, and bowlders, which is called diluvium, consisting of the loose fragments of rocks that were transported by a mighty current of water the last time the waters prevailed over the land. The occurrence of similar embankments at Houlton served to confirm this opinion, for there they had the same north and south direction, a coincidence so remarkable that it could not be the result of chance. The Horsebacks of New Limerick and Houlton are much more elevated" (as indeed they are on the banks or a little removed from the shores of the Mattawamkeag River), "and some of them are said to rise to the height of ninety feet." "I can not stop to speculate on the causes of this transportation of loose materials, but I may say that there are abundant proofs, on the whole face of this continent, that there has been a mighty rush of waters over its surface from the north and northwest, and that such a current has swept over the highest mountains of Massachusetts."
When it is necessary to obtain views from low lands, the obstructions are overcome by ascending the highest trees. When an ascent is to be made, the Spruce-tree is generally selected, principally for the superior facilities which its numerous limbs afford the climber. To gain the first limbs of this tree, which are from twenty to forty feet from the ground, a smaller tree is undercut and lodged against it, clambering up which the top of the Spruce is reached. In some cases, when a very elevated position is desired, the Spruce-tree is lodged against the trunk of some lofty Pine, up which we ascend to a height twice that of the surrounding forest.
From such a tree-top, like a mariner at the mast-head upon the "look-out" for whales (for indeed the Pine is the whale of the forest), large "clumps" and "veins" of Pine are discovered, whose towering tops may be seen for miles around. Such views fill the bosom of timber-hunters with anintense interest. They are the object of his search, his treasure, hisEl Dorado, and they are beheld with peculiar and thrilling emotions. To detail the process more minutely, we should observe that the man in the tree-top points out the direction in which the Pines are seen; or, if hid from the view of those below by the surrounding foliage, he breaks a small limb, and throws it in the direction in which they appear, while a man at the base marks the direction indicated by the falling limb by a compass which he holds in his hand, the compass being quite as necessary in the wilderness as on the pathless ocean.
In fair weather the sun serves as an important guide; and in cloudy weather the close observation of an experienced woodsman will enable him to steer a tolerably correct course by the moss which grows on the trunks of most hard-wood trees, the north side of which are covered with a much larger share than the other portions of the trunk. This Indian compass, however, is not very convenient nor safe, particularly in passing through swampy lands, which are of frequent occurrence.
After spending several days in scouring the wilderness in search of the Pines, minutely examining their quality (for an experienced lumberman can determine this with surprising certainty), calculating the distance the logs may have to be hauled, and noting the surface of the land through which the logging roads are to be cut, &c., we retrace our steps to the landing, where the bateau has been left. Once more our frail bark floats upon the dancing current of the stream, gliding onward as if stimulated with the very joyousness of the "homeward bound" voyagers. After several days' exploration on foot, the boat ride is particularly welcome. In the realization of this, however, we are sometimes sadly, even provokingly disappointed.
It is known to those versed in the habits of the black bear, that late in the fall of the year they manifest an uncommon fondness for pitch or resinous substances. In the course of my travels through the forest, I have often seen Fir-trees which contained large quantities of balsam, with their bark entirely stripped from the trunk by these craving depredators. Under the impulses of this peculiar appetite, they sometimes tear even our bateau to pieces for the tar with which it is besmeared. If injured beyond the means of repair, we are compelled to pursue our journey down on foot. Perchance we may fortunately meet some Indian trapper with his frail canoe, which we charter for a portion of the journey, until another boat, or means of conveyance, can be secured. Were any of my readers ever on board the Indian's bark canoe? Some, doubtless, have been, and such will bear me out in the declaration that the voyager experiences emotions peculiarly agreeable. As a conveyance, it seems to occupy a space between riding and flying; not in respect to its speed, although this is considerable when the paddle is vigorously applied, but its fairy-like buoyancy quite dissipates the idea of one's gravity.
Having determined, during the exploration, upon the territory from which we wish to cut and haul our logs, we proceed to obtain permits from the state or proprietors, which secure the exclusive right to cut timber within the bounds of the grant for a stipulated price; so much per thousand feet, board-measure, which varies from one to eight dollarsper M., according to the quality of the timber and its convenient location to the lake, river, or stream upon which it is to be floated to market. Among other preliminaries which anticipate the winter operations of lumbermen is the "putting up" of large quantities of meadow hay.
Skirting the stagnant sections of rivers and streams, extensive strips of meadow land spread back to the border of "uplands," whose outlines are distinctly defined by immense forests which hem in these large areas, sometimes embracing many thousands of acres. This intervale is covered with a heavy growth of meadow grass. By this remarkable arrangement, Nature has anticipated, as it would appear, the wants of lumbermen in locating, and in preserving from the encroachments of the forest, a plentiful supply of subsistence for the teams employed in procuring lumber in its immediate vicinity, and far from the haunts of civilized man.
To these wild and solemn retreats, where the dismal hooting of the night-owl breaks upon the ear, and the sighing winds, as they pass through the tall, waving grass, waft the distant howl of the wolf, large crews of men resort, with the usual haying implements, provisions, &c., for making and stacking the hay to be used during the ensuing winter.
In the latter part of autumn these meadows are covered with water, which finally freezes. It is therefore necessary to erect temporary scaffolds, called more generally "staddles," upon which the hay is to be piled in large stacks. These staddles are made of poles laid upon cross-stakes or crutches, sufficiently high to protect the hay from the water beneath. From these the hay is removed, sometimes in boats before the waters freeze, and afterward upon sleds on the ice. When the former method of transportation is adopted, two bateaus or skiffs are placed side by side, small poles being thrown across them; the hay is then loaded on this platform, and carried to the most convenient landing, where it is reloaded and hauled on ox-sleds to the camp. If the hay is removed upon the ice, the stacks are hauled away whole. The mode of loading is simple; the central part of the scaffolding is cut away, the sled shoved underneath, when the remaining props are cut away, and the whole stack settles on to the sled, and is thus moved off to the place of destination. This expeditious method of loading is particularly convenient and desirable, as may be imagined when one takes into consideration the biting winter winds which sweep across these wide meadow fields.
Since agricultural interests have invited men far into the interior in the vicinity of lumber berths, where large tracts of land have been cleared up, less value is attached to, and less use made of meadow hay than formerly, as English grass becomes more plenty, is more available, and is much better in its quality.
A distinguishing characteristic of this kind of business is the unceasing encounter by our lumbermen with the blood-thirsty millions of flies who swarm and triumph over these sanguinary fields. In the use of fire-arms these unvanquishable hosts are not skilled, to be sure, but in a charge they are invincible. No amount of slaughter will intimidate them. Though the sweeping hand of destruction annihilates them by thousands, still, with full ranks, the contest is carried on with unabated vigor, a respite only being afforded in rainy weather, or when high winds prevail; then they retire from the field.
At night the musquito lancers take up the action—the Indian tribes of the insect species—and all night they keep up their ceaseless war-whoop, as they repeat their sallies upon the weary, disturbed sleeper. No coat of mail is proof against the attacks of one species of fly commonly called the midget, which is so small as to be almost imperceptible to the naked eye. The black fly and the musquito can only reach the exposed parts of the body, but to the midget every portion is accessible. He insinuates himself under the collar, the wristband, and through the texture of the garments, and the whole region between the shirt and the skin is a field for his operations.
In one process of the haying operations, in particular, they are very annoying. The hay, when cut, is carried in small cocks upon two poles by two men to the scaffolding, for the purpose of being stacked. While thus employed, with both hands engaged, millions of these little invisibles insinuate themselves under the garments, and, whatever interest or ambition may fail to do, by way of producing energetic motion, the irritating smart of their bite abundantly makes up.Nolens volens, the men thus employed dance to the tune of "Midget's meadow-hay jig;" and when no longer able to resist the earnest invitation to rub and scratch, which their irritating bite holds out, down drop the poles, hay and all! Ah! let him who has experienced the irritation, and the relief of furious friction,think—I'm sure he may not pen it.
But, notwithstanding the labor and annoyances of meadow life, there are pastimes and adventures to be met with. A shot now and then at some stray deer who may chance to stroll upon the meadow to graze; the hooking of beautiful trout, pickerel, and other delicious pan-fish, afford agreeable relief fromennui; while the spoils of the forest and the brook afford most agreeable changes of diet. Here, also, very frequently are skirmishes had with the common black bear. If Bruin is not intentionally pugnacious, he is really meddlesome; nay, more, a downright trespasser—a regular thief—an out-and-out "no-government" animal, who, though neither profane nor yet immoral, still, without apostolical piety, would have "all things common." These peculiar traits of character secure to him the especial attention of mankind, and ever make him the object of attack. Though formidable as an enemy, it is hard to allow him to pass, even if he be civilly inclined, without direct assault. On one occasion, while two men were crossing a small lake in a skiff, on their return from the meadows, where they had been putting up hay, they discovered a bear swimming from a point of land for the opposite shore. As usual in such cases, temptation silenced prudential remonstrance; so, changing their course, they gave chase. The craft being light, they gained fast upon the bear, who exerted himself to the utmost to gain the shore. But, finding himself an unequal match in the race, he turned upon his pursuers and swam to meet them. One of the men, a short, thick-set, dare-devil sort of a fellow, seized an ax, and the moment the bear came up, inflicted a blow upon his head which seemed to make but a slight impression. Before a second could be repeated, the bear clambered into the boat; he instantly grappled the man who struck him, firmly setting his teeth in the man's thigh; then settling back upon his haunches, he raised his victim in the air, and shook him as a dog would a wood-chuck. The man at the helm stood for a moment in amazement, without knowing how to act, and fearing that the bear might spring overboard and drown his companion; but, recollecting the effect of a blow upon the end of a bear's snout, he struck him with a short setting-pole. The bear dropped his victim into the bottom of the boat, sallied and fell overboard, and swam again for the shore. The man bled freely from the bite, and as the wound proved too serious to allow a renewal of the encounter, they made for the shore. Medical aid was procured as soon as possible, and in the course of six weeks the man recovered from the effects of the bite. But one thing saved them from being upset; the water proved sufficiently shoal to admit of the bear's getting bottom, from which he sprang into the boat. Had the water been deep, the boat must inevitably have been upset, in which case the consequences might have been more serious.
It was on one of these haying occasions that a more startling but harmless encounter with the elements was experienced. One afternoon, about two o'clock, while several men were making their way up a small stream on a branch of the Penobscot, their attention was suddenly arrested by a sound which resembled distant thunder. Each moment the noise grew more distinct, accompanied with a tremulous motion of the earth. Still nearer and yet nearer it approached, with a rushing sound, intermingled with loud reports. Between our boatmen and the forest at the southwest spread an area of meadow land. Looking in this direction, a dense column, rising high in the heavens, was seen whirling in the distance, and approaching with incredible velocity. They barely effected a landing when it came upon them. In an instant their boat was hurled into the tops of the trees over their heads, while they were able to retain their position by holding on to the small undergrowth, and escaped unhurt. The hurricane, in its passage across the meadow, seemed to lose its force, so that by the time it reached the opposite side of the meadow its power was broken, and its career of destruction ended. In its passage it laid a strip of forest level some seventy rods wide and thirty miles long. No tree within this limit withstood its fury. The toughest and stateliest mingled in wildest confusion with blanched trunks, yielding sapling, and slender undergrowth.
At the proper time, which varies in different localities, but generally during the early part of fall, a more extensive outfit is made for another up-river expedition, for the purpose of erecting winter camps, clearing the main roads, and attending to such other preliminaries as may be deemed necessary.
Several years ago the whole distance from our homes to the interior was traveled by water, on which occasions heavy-laden boats were taken up these rivers and streams, and across the lakes, an operation which was both hazardous and laborious, particularly where the swift current of rapids was to be overcome, and when it became necessary to carry the boat and cargo around impassable falls—a frequent occurrence, the river in some places being nothing but one continuous succession of rapids for miles. In some places, to save the labor of "carrying by," attempts are made to shove the boats up fearful rapids, where a single mistake or false maneuver would swamp them. A lively little incident of this kind is quoted below, from Doctor Jackson's account of an excursion up the Penobscot on the business of a geological survey of the state.
"While we were engaged in exploring the rocks (at Grindstones Falls), our men tried to shove the boat up the falls, but the violence of the current prevented their effecting their object, the boat being instantly filled and sunk in the attempt, while all our baggage and provisions that remained on board were swept off and carried down the stream. A scene of unwonted activity now ensued in our endeavors to save our articles, as they were rapidly borne down the foaming waters. The boat, fortunately, was not much injured, and we succeeded in hauling it upon a rock, and bailed out the water, after which we gave chase to our lost articles, and succeeded in saving those that were most essential to our safety. The bread-barrel, although scuttled, was but half full of bread, and floated down stream with its opening uppermost, so that but little of it was injured. Our bucket of rice burst open and was lost. The tea-kettle and other cooking apparatus sank in the river, and were fished up by a hook and line. The tent was found about a mile down the river, stretched across a rock. The maps and charts were soaked with water, so that it required as much labor and patience to unroll them as the papyri of Herculaneum. Our spare boots and shoes were irrecoverably lost. Having rescued the most important articles from the water, we carried by the falls, camped, and dried our papers and provision, being thankful that no worse an accident had befallen us. Fortunately, we had taken the precaution to remove our surveying instruments and the blankets from the boat before the falls were attempted.
"Having kindled a camp-fire and dried ourselves, a storm of rain began to pour around us; but our great fire was not easily damped, and we passed a comfortable night beneath the shelter of a water-proof tent.
"The Penobscot boatmen are well skilled in the art of camping in a comfortable manner, and soon prepare their fire for the night, make a bed of boughs, and pitch the tent in such a manner as to afford a complete shelter. Having partaken of our meal, we reposed upon the boughs spread upon the earth, our feet being turned toward the fire. This being our first encampment for the season, the novelty of the scene prevented sleep; the night was very pleasant, and the broad moon, slowly descending in the west, added her effulgence to beautify the scene, her image being reflected by the rippling waters, while various contrasts of light and shade from the dense foliage, and the pale moonbeam and glaring red camp-fire, gave an effect full of beauty, and worthy the attention of an artist.
"Amid pleasant scenes, we are, however, subject to contrasts of a less agreeable kind; and here our Indian, while cutting wood, suffered a severe accident; his hatchet, accidentally slipping, was driven deeply into his leg between two bones, so as to expose the anterior tibial artery. I was then called upon in my surgical capacity, and, having my instruments with me, dressed his wound in the usual manner, and early next morning we took him to Maltanawcook Island, where we made arrangements with another Indian, Louis Neptune, to supply his place while he was recovering from his wound."
These difficulties of transportation have been somewhat abated by the construction of roads, which penetrate much nearer to lumber berths than formerly, and enable us to convey our provisions, implements, and even boats, with horse-teams, a considerable portion of the distance once laboriously performed by water. I am not familiar with any kind of labor which tests a man's physical abilities and powers of endurance more than boating supplies up river. The labor of carrying by falls, and portages from lake to lake, imposes a heavy tax upon the body. Barrels of pork, flour, and other provisions, too heavy for one man to carry alone, are slung to a pole by the aid of ropes, one man being at either end, and thus we clamber, under our heavy burdens, over rocks, the trunks of fallen trees, slippery roots, and through mud-sloughs, sometimes without any path, through the thickets and groves of trees. The boat is turned bottom upward, the gunwales resting upon the shoulders of three men, two abreast near the bows, and one at the stern. In this position we pass over the same route through which the provisions have been carried to the next landing, where the goods are again reshipped, and we proceed by water on lake or stream, with the alternate routine of paddling, poling, and lugging, until the place of destination is reached.
Persons wholly unacquainted with river navigation can have but an imperfect idea of the skill as well as nerve brought into requisition in taking a heavy-laden bateau, skiff, or canoe up over rapids. Let such a person stand upon the banks of the river, and survey some places over which these frail boats, loaded to the gunwale, pass, and he would not only regard the thing as exceedingly difficult and hazardous, but as altogether impossible; with the inexperienced it would, indeed, be both, but our skillful watermen will perform it with the greatest dexterity. Should any traveler chance to take an up-river trip with those boatmen, I am quite sure his observations would confirm my statement respecting them. I am happy to add here the testimony of Dr. Jackson, who had an opportunity to witness their skill: "Those who have never been on such a journey would be surprised at the dexterity of the Penobscot boatmen as they drive their frail bateau through the rapids and among dangerous rocks. The slightest failure on their part, on passing the numerous water-falls, would place the lives of those on board in imminent peril, and the traveler has good reason to be thankful if the boat by their care is saved from being overturned or sunk in the river.
"When the waters rush down a rapid slope of smooth and round rocks, forming what are called gravel-beds, the most strenuous exertions of the boatmen are required to stem the current, and not unfrequently their 'setting' poles are caught between the rocks, so as to be jerked from their grasp. Bateaux are navigated up stream by means of slender poles of spruce, about twelve or fifteen feet in length, armed with an iron point, confined by a ferule or iron band around its extremity. One boatman stands in the bow and braces his foot against the stern as he labors; the other stands in the stern, and they both pole on the same side as they proceed up the margin of the stream. Descending the river, they make use of paddles." However, the depth to which these frail boats are loaded, in which condition they pass through rough waters and wide lakes, where the wind is liable in a few minutes to raise high waves, can not be regarded as prudent, with all their matchless skill in navigating.
When I call to mind the intemperate habits to which most lumbermen in times past were addicted, I am surprised that no more accidents have occurred while navigating our rivers.
I shall not soon forget the perilous circumstances in which I was once placed, in company with others, while taking a deeply laden skiff up to the head waters of the St. Croix.
Having safely passed the rapids of the river, we embarked upon the Lake Che-pet-na-cook, up which we paddled about twenty miles to the portage, over which we had to carry our effects to Grand Lake, distant some two miles. By the time we had accomplished these moves the shadows of a September evening began to gather around us, giving a peculiar tint to the large sheet of water before us, which spread to the north some twenty-five miles, with an expanse east and west of about six miles, washing a portion of the shores of Maine on the west, and the province of New Brunswick on the east.
The point of destination lay about half way up the lake on the American side. Our boat was deeply laden with men and provisions; of the former there were seven in number. A light wind from the east caused a gentle ripple upon the surface of the waters, which induced us to hug the easterly shore pretty closely. We proceeded slowly, and when it became necessary to change our course in order to cross the lake, night had nearly settled down upon the waters, leaving only sufficient light to reveal the opposite shore, which stretched along the verge of the horizon, presenting the appearance of a long, dark cloud settling upon the borders of the lake.
We had plenty of new rum on board, which was used at stated intervals, as, according to the faith of nearly every man in those days, it gave to the arm more vigor in the necessary labor of plying the paddle. It soon became evident that one of our number had imbibed too freely, to the imminent hazard of our lives. The reader may easily imagine our perilous condition under such circumstances. Our frail skiff was about eighteen feet long, and four feet across the top of the gunwale amid-ships, tapering to a point at either end, constructed of thin slips of pine boards nailed to some half dozen pair of slender knees about two inches in diameter. On board were some fifteen hundred pounds of provisions, with seven men, which pressed her into the water nearly to the gunwale; three inches from the position of a level, and she would fill with water.
As men usually are quite insensible to danger when in liquor, so was it with "Dan" in this instance. Too comfortable in his feelings to keep still, as indeed was indispensable to the most steady among us, he kept constantly lurching about, and periling us with a capsizing repeatedly. He was admonished in the most pressing and peremptory manner to keep quiet; but in his drunken idiocy he became a terror, and it was manifest that something must be done to insure our safety.
Our paddles hung powerless over the sides of the frail thing which buoyed us upon the surface of the deep water; to advance seemed too uncertain and dreadful, while the darkness rested down deeper upon the lake. A hasty consultation was held upon the propriety of putting back to the shore, when the drunken wretch gave a sudden lurch, which settled the gunwale under water! "My God! we are gone!" shouted some half dozen voices at the instant. However, by a counter-motion we raised the submerged gunwale from sinking further. In an instant our helmsman was upon his feet, and, raising his paddle in a most menacing attitude over the head of the intoxicated man, "D—n you!" said he, "if you move again I'll split your skull open!" The threat was terrible, and he would have cleft his head open in an instant. I expected he would strike, for our lives depended upon quieting him in some way; but the fellow seemed to awake to our perilous condition, and slunk down into the bottom of the boat. We put about instantly for the shore, and in a few moments touched the beach. With a willing step I placed my feet on terra firma once more.
It was then determined that part of the crew should remain, while the others should cross the lake, unload the provisions, and return for those left behind. Four men were accordingly left, and I was glad to make one of the number, though left upon a wild and unfrequented spot, without food or shelter, with the prospect of spending the greater portion of the night there, even should the rest of the crew make a successful trip; and, in the event of their being swamped, a thing by no means impossible, for sometimes the wind suddenly rises, and in a very short time lashes the lake into foaming waves, in which case the skiff could not live, then the circuit of the lake must be performed, and days must elapse before relief could be obtained; but still, with these certainties and probable contingencies before us, we were glad to feel mother earth under the soles of our feet. By the time these matters had been fixed, the darkness had shut out the western shore entirely from view; our comrades, therefore, only shaped their course by the fire which we had kindled upon the shore, and which we kept burning by a constant supply of brush and the most inflammable wood that could be procured.