was in many respects the pleasantest night we spent in the woods.
The weather was perfect and the place was perfect, and for the
first time we were exempt from the midges and smoke; and then we
appreciated the clean new page we had to work on. Nothing is so
acceptable to the camper-out as a pure article in the way of woods
and waters. Any admixture of human relics mars the spirit of the
scene. Yet I am willing to confess that, before we were through
those woods, the marks of an axe in a tree were a welcome sight. On
resuming our march next day we followed the right bank of the
Beaverkill, in order to strike a stream which flowed in from the
north, and which was the outlet of Balsam Lake, the objective point
of that day's march. The distance to the lake from our camp could
not have been over six or seven miles; yet, traveling as we did,
without path or guide, climbing up banks, plunging into ravines,
making detours around swampy places, and forcing our way through
woods choked up with much fallen and decayed timber, it seemed at
least twice that distance, and the mid-afternoon sun was shining
when we emerged into what is called the "Quaker Clearing," ground
that I had been over nine years before, and that lies about two
miles south of the lake. From this point we had a well-worn path
that led us up a sharp rise of ground, then through level woods
till we saw the bright gleam of the water through the trees.
I am always struck, on approaching these little mountain lakes, with
the extensive preparation that is made for them in the conformation
of the ground. I am thinking of a depression, or natural basin, in
the side of the mountain or on its top, the brink of which I shall
reach after a little steep climbing; but instead of that, after I
have accomplished the ascent, I find a broad sweep of level or
gently undulating woodland that brings me after a half hour or so to
the lake, which lies in this vast lap like a drop of water in the
palm of a man's hand.
Balsam Lake was oval-shaped, scarcely more than half a mile long and
a quarter of a mile wide, but presented a charming picture, with a
group of dark gray hemlocks filling the valley about its head, and
the mountains rising above and beyond. We found a bough house in
good repair, also a dug-out and paddle and several floats of logs.
In the dug-out I was soon creeping along the shady side of the lake,
where the trout were incessantly jumping for a species of black fly,
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