GOING IN.
IT was on Wednesday, the third day of August, that I received a note from my friend B., which, if I made it out correctly, ran thus:
Dear P.:—We shall go in, on Friday or Saturday, at farthest. Be at Martin's sure. Come by Port Kent, and bring as little as you can. When you go in, go light.
I went in light. To wit: one woollen coat; item, two pairs old trousers; item, two woollen shirts; item, two pocket handkerchiefs; item, two stockings; item, two shoes; item, a gun; item, a fishing-rod; item, an india-rubber blanket; item, two army blankets; item, my wife's wedding vail to defend me from devouring beasts; item, visions of deer and speckled trout, and a bear or two.
I took a trusted friend, one James; tore myself from the embraces of my charming wife, idol of my breast, bride of my affection; left all to go in.
"Go," she said, "go and be happy."
Why should I not? why should I not "go in" and be happy? I went, yet I had some painful misgivings. Remembering Mistress Lot, I did not look back. We had a fine supper at Taggart's, Saturday night, waited upon by the brightest little girl of twelve—none of your great Irish Kernes—slept soundly; rose betimes; went to the Methodist church and heard an earnest soul discourse, and at 3 p. m., precisely, started to go in.
What were we going in to? It is a pertinent question. West of Lake Champlain lies a vast tract, some two hundred miles long by one hundred broad, which is "wilderness" indeed. No roads penetrate it, no civilization utilizes it, no Mrs. Grundy raises her voice against your noble instincts. It must be charming to be once more a child of nature, a son of the forest, a noble savage. Our hearts bounded with delight. My friend, the Judge, uttered some fit sentiment, as we were bounced up from the board on which, we sat, while going in—for there are yet stumps in the roadways of that sylvan region. At Martin's we found B., or rather Bruce, and Walker chaffering about guides, uncertain whether or no I was to join them. But I had come, and the Judge with me, and four of us now set about our preparations for happiness in good earnest. Let me say what is needed for each person to secure bliss for fifteen days in this vast wilderness:
Fifteen pounds finest wheaten flour, eight pounds pork or equivalent of butter, matches, salt and pepper, arnica and simple cerate (not for food!), soap (also not for food), cream tartar and soda (for food), Indian meal at discretion, maple or other sugar. I do not say that people do not fancy they require other articles, as the progress of this history will show. Beside the above, one needs a guide who is a perfect being, combining the faculties of a cook, a
