ur party returned here and
encamped upon the mountain, they saw five during their stay, but failed
to get a good shot. The rifle was in the wrong place each time. The
man with the shot-gun saw an old bear and two cubs lift themselves
from behind a rock and twist their noses around for his scent, and then
shrink away. They were too far off for his buckshot. I must not forget
the superb view that lay before us, a wilderness of woods and waters
stretching away to the horizon on every band. Nearly a dozen lakes and
ponds could be seen, and in a clearer atmosphere the foot of Moosehead
Lake would have been visible. The highest and most striking mountain to
be seen was Mount Bigelow, rising above Dead River, far to the west,
and its two sharp peaks notching the horizon like enormous saw-teeth.
We walked around and viewed curiously a huge boulder on the top of the
mountain that had been split in two vertically, and one of the halves
moved a few feet out of its bed. It looked recent and familiar, but
suggested gods instead of men. The force that moved the rock had plainly
come from the north. I thought of a similar boulder I had seen not long
before on the highest point of the Shawangunk Mountains in New York, one
side of which is propped up with a large stone, as wall-builders prop up
a rock to wrap a chain around it. The rock seems poised lightly, and has
but a few points of bearing. In this instance, too, the power had come
from the north.

The prettiest botanical specimen my trip yielded was a little plant that
bears the ugly name of horned bladderwort (Utricularia cornuta), and
which I found growing in marshy places along the shores of Moxie Lake.
It has a slender, naked stem nearly a foot high, crowned by two or
more large deep yellow flowers,--flowers the shape of little bonnets or
hoods. One almost expected to see tiny faces looking out of them. This
illusion is heightened by the horn or spur of the flower, which projects
from the hood like a long tapering chin,--some masker's device. Then
the cape behind,--what a smart upward curve it has, as if spurned by
the fairy shoulders it was meant to cover! But perhaps the most notable
thing about the flower was its fragrance,--the richest and strongest
perfume I have ever found in a wild flower. This our botanist, Gray,
does not mention; as if one should describe the lark and forget its
song. The fragrance suggested that of white clover, but was more rank
and spicy.

The woo