Camp-fire musings : life and good times in the woods . our artisthas taken an undue lib-erty with Miss Arabellasface in his fire sketches, Iintend to convict him byprinting her photographhere, if I can manage toget possession of one. Mr. Allen is a stormypetrel. Last summer heconcluded to drop in uponus unannounced. He leftthe railroad dressed in a business suit, a shiny plug hatand fine shoes, and walked the whole seventeen milesthrough a downpour. It did not take me long, on hisarrival, to dress him in my camp flannels, and hanghis clothes where they could drip. The next day wetook a long af
Camp-fire musings : life and good times in the woods . our artisthas taken an undue lib-erty with Miss Arabellasface in his fire sketches, Iintend to convict him byprinting her photographhere, if I can manage toget possession of one. Mr. Allen is a stormypetrel. Last summer heconcluded to drop in uponus unannounced. He leftthe railroad dressed in a business suit, a shiny plug hatand fine shoes, and walked the whole seventeen milesthrough a downpour. It did not take me long, on hisarrival, to dress him in my camp flannels, and hanghis clothes where they could drip. The next day wetook a long afternoon stroll along the north chain oflakes. A shower came on, but a jack-pine shed therain off us like a roof. The shower over, we saw thatthe sky in the north had a windy and stormy look, soI said we would run by the compass directly for thecamp, some four miles. The tempest came fast, forawhile with incessant crashes of thunder, which meantbusiness. A large Norway near us was stricken, twobolts, one on each side, riving the tree to its roots and. 228 Camp-^tre HTustngs setting it on fire. The air darkened and then came astorm of hail; then the rain. The character of thatshower can be judged when I say that open vesselsshowed that three and a half inches of water fell in ashort space of time. In a moment after it began we handful of the ice. When the rain was roaring inthe wind he was on the lookout for berries, whichhe would stop an instant to get. Between the crashesof the thunder I could hear him singing. The waywas pretty long, and I think for awhile he thought wewere lost, because when we dashed out of a thicketinto the wagon-trail he celebrated the event with ayell, and Mr. Allen has a good voice. The road wasa rushing river, in some places up to our knees. Thelake reached, the faithful old dugout stuck its roughblack nose up at us with a welcome. All the otherboats had gone careering across the lake in the wind.
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Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, booksubjectnaturalhistory, booky
