A CONVENTION BROKEN UP IN A BOW--THE CHAIRMAN EJECTED.
We sent forward our boatman with the luggage early in the morning, up
Bog River towards Mud Lake, the source of the right branch of that
river, lying some thirty miles deeper in the wilderness, counting the
sinuosities of the stream, and said to be the highest body of water in
all this wild region. We were to spend the day on Tupper's Lake, and
follow him the next morning. Our boatman built for our accommodation,
a brush shanty in the place of our tents. We rowed about this
beautiful sheet of water, exploring its secluded bays and romantic
islands, trying experiments with the trout wherever a stream came down
from the hills, and trolling for lake trout while crossing the lake.
Near the shore, on the west bank, perhaps half a mile from the falls,
is one of the coldest, purest and most beautiful springs that I ever
met with. It comes up into a little basin some six or eight feet in
diameter, by two or three in depth. The bottom is of loose white sand
which is all in commotion, by the constant boiling up of the clear
cold water. From this basin a little stream goes rippling and laughing
to the lake. Towards evening we returned to our shanty with abundance
of fish for supper and breakfast, taken, as I said, in simply trying
experiments as to where they were to be found in the greatest
abundance.
If any sportsman who may drift out this way, is fond of taking the
speckled trout--little fellows, weighing from a quarter of a pound
down, the same he meets with in the streams of Vermont, in
Massachusetts, in Northern Pennsylvania, and. Western New York, let
him provide himself with angle-worms, and row to the head of the lake.
A short distance east of where Bog River enters, say from a quarter to
half a mile, he will find a cold mountain stream. Let him rig for
brook-fishing and take to that stream. If he does not fill his basket
in a little while, he may set it down to the score of bad luck, or
some lack of skill on his part in taking them, for the brook trout are
there in abundance. Across the lake from Long Island, to the right as
you go up the lake, is a bay that goes away in around a woody point.
At the head of this bay, "Grindstone Brook" enters. It is a smallish
stream, and comes dashing down over shelving rocks some thirty feet,
and shoots out into the bay among broken rocks, and loose boulders.
The waters of this stream are much colder than those of the lake. Let
the sportsman row carefully up towards the mouth of this stream, along
towards evening of a hot day, when the shadow of the hill reaches far
out over the lake, and cast his fly across the little current, and if
he does not take as beautiful a string of river trout as can be found
in these parts, let him set it down to the score of accident, for the
trout are there in the warm days of August. If he has a curiosity to
know what there is above these Little Falls, let him try his
angle-worms in the brook just over the ridge, and he will find out. I
claim to have discovered these choice fishing places some seasons
since, and have kept them for my own private use and amusement. Nobody
seemed to know of them. When the trout refused to be taken elsewhere,
I have always found them here, abundant, greedy, and ready to be taken
by any decently skillful effort. I regard these places as in some sort
my private property, and I mention them privately and in confidence to
the reader, trusting that my right will be respected.
We finished our evening meal while the sun was yet above the western
hills, and sat with our pipes around a smudge, made upon the broad
flat rock, which recedes with a gentle acclivity from the shore, where
the Bog River enters the lake, looking out over the stirless waters.
It was a beautiful view, so calm, so still and placid, and yet so
wild. The islands seemed to stand out clear from the water, to be
lifted up, as it were, from the lake, so perfectly moveless and
polished was its surface. On a grassy point to the right, and a
hundred rods distant, two deer were quietly feeding, while in a little
bay on the left, a brood of young ducks were sporting and skimming
along the water in playful gyrations around their staid and watchful
mother. On the outstretched arm of a dead tree on the island before
us, sat a bald eagle, pluming himself; and high above the lake the
osprey soared, turning his piercing eye downward, watching for
his prey.
"I've been thinking," said Smith, as he refilled his pipe, "of what
the Doctor was saying the other evening about every body having a
streak of the vagabond in him, which makes him relish an occasional
tramp in the old woods among the natural things; things that have not
been marred by the barbarisms, so to speak, of civilization. I'm
inclined to believe his theory to be true, but I see a difficulty in
its practical working. Now, suppose, Doctor, that you and I being out
here together vagabondizing, as you term it, and your streak of the
vagabond being twice as large as mine, you would of course desire to
play the savage twice as long as I should. There would, in that case,
be a marring of the harmonies. I should be anxious to get back to
civilization, while you, being rather in your normal element, would
insist upon 'laying around loose,' as you say, for Mercy knows
how long."
"Gentlemen," said the Doctor in reply, "only hear this fellow! He's
getting homesick already. He has no wife, not a child in the world, no
business, nothing to call him home save a superannuated pointer, and
an old Tom cat, and yet he would leave these glorious old woods, these
beautiful lakes, these rivers, these trout and deer, and all the glad
music of the wild things, to-morrow, and go back to the dust, the
poisoned atmosphere, the eternal jostling and monotonous noises of the
city! Truly a vagabond and a savage is Smith. He's afraid that his
family, his mangy old pointer and dropsical cat, will suffer in
his absence."
"I scorn to answer such an accusation," retorted Smith, "I shall treat
it with dignified contempt, as I do the Doc medicines, which I never
take but always pay for, just to keep him from starving, and to make
him imagine he cures me. But speaking of cats reminds me of a certain
matter which occurred not many years ago. The Doctor here, if his
testimony could be relied upon, knows that I used to be troubled with
indigestion, and was sometimes a little nervous"----
"A _little_ nervous!" interrupted the Doctor, "why he would be as crazy
with the hypo as a March hare. He would insist that he was going to
die, or to the almshouse. He has made two or three dozen wills, to my
certain knowledge, under the firm conviction that he would be in the
ground in a week. A _little_ nervous, indeed!"
"Well," said Smith, "we won't quarrel about the degree of my
nervousness. But in regard to what I was going to say about cats. Some
years ago I occupied a suite of rooms in the second story of a house
rented by a widow lady, to whom I had been under some obligations in
my boyhood, and whom my mother always regarded as her best friend."
(Smith supported the excellent old lady in comfort for a decade, under
pretence of boarding with her, ministering to the last years of her
life with the care and affection of a son.) "The landlord of the
premises was the owner of a block of twelve houses--six on Pearl
street, and six on Broadway, the lots meeting midway between the two
streets. On the rear of these lots are the out-houses, all under a
continuous flat roof, some twelve feet high, twenty wide, and say a
hundred and fifty feet long. In the rear of the Broadway
dwelling-houses, are one story tea-rooms, or third parlors, the roofs
of which form a continuous platform, upon which you can step from the
second story of the houses."
"Well," said the Doctor, "what of all that?"
"There's a great deal of it," Smith replied. "I don't pretend to know
how many cats there were in the city of Albany. Indeed, I never heard
that they were included in the census. I do not undertake to say that
they _all_ congregated nightly on the roofs of those out-houses. But
if there was a cat in the sixth ward, that didn't have something to
say on that roof every night, I should like to make its acquaintance.
I am against cats. I regard them as treacherous, ungrateful animals,
and as having very small moral developments generally. I am against
_cat-_terwauling, especially in the night season, when honest people
have a right to their natural sleep. I don't like to be woke up, when
rounding a pleasant dream, by their growling and screaming, spitting
and whining, groaning and crying, and the hundred other nameless
noises by which they frighten sleep from our pillows.
"Well, one night, it may have been one o'clock, or two, or three, I
was awakened by the awfullest screaming and sputtering, growling and
swearing, that ever startled a weary man from his slumbers. I leaped
out of bed under the impression that at least twenty little children
had fallen into as many tubs of boiling water. I threw open the window
and stepped out upon the roof of the tea-room. I don't intend to
exaggerate, but I honestly believe that there were less than three
hundred cats over against me, on the roofs of the out-houses; each one
of which had a tail bigger than a Bologna sausage, his back crooked up
like an oxbow, and his great round eyes gleaming fiercely in the
moonlight, putting in his very best in the way of catterwauling. Two
of the largest, one black as night and the other a dark grey or
brindle, appeared to be particularly in earnest, and the way they
scolded, and screamed, and swore at each other was a sin to hear. I
won't undertake to report all they said; a decent regard for the
proprieties of language, compels me to give only a sketch of
the debate.
"'You infernal, big-tailed, hump-backed, ugly-mugged thief,' screamed
the grey, 'I'd like to know what _you_ are out here for this time of
night, skulking, and creeping, and nosing about in the dark, poaching
upon other people's preserves?'
"'Very well I mighty well!' was the reply, 'for _you_, to talk, you
black-skinned, ogre-eyed, growling and sputtering robber, to come upon
this roof, sticking up _your_ back and taking airs on yourself. I'd
like to know what business _you've_ got to be prowling about and
crowding yourself into honest people's company?'
"'I'm a regular Tom Cat, I'd have you know, and go where I please, and
I'll stand none of your big talk and insolent looks.' "'Insolent!
Hear the cowardly thief! Insolent! Very well, Mr. Tom Cat! very good,
indeed! Now, just take your black skin off of this roof, or you'll get
what will make you look cross-eyed foe a month.'
"'Get off this roof, I think you said. Look at this set of ivory, and
these claws, old greyback! If you want I should leave this roof, just
come and put me off. Try it on, old Beeswax. Yes, yes! try it on once,
and we'll see whose eyes will look straightest in the morning! Come
on, old Humpback! Try it on, old Sausage Tail!'
"And then they pitched in, and such scratching and growling, scolding
and swearing, and biting, and rolling over and over, I never happened
to see or hear before. About that time I dropped a boulder of coal,
taken from the scuttle, weighing about half a pound, right among them
(accidently of course). Whether it hit any one I can't positively
affirm, but I heard a dull heavy sound, a kind of _chug_, as if it had
struck against something soft, and the scream of one of the
belligerents was brought to a sudden stop, by a sort of hysterical
jerk, as though there had been a sudden lack of wind to carry it on.
It put an end to the disturbance, and all the rioters, save one,
scampered away. That one remained, all doubled up in a heap like, as
if it had the sick headache, or been attacked with a sudden
inflammation of the bowels. If any body's cat was found the next
morning with a swelled head, or a great bunch on its side, and seemed
dumpish, it's my private opinion that that's the one that lump of coal
fell upon. Still it did'nt do much good in the way of relieving me
from the annoyance of these cat conventions. They continued to
congregate nightly on that long shed in the rear of my rooms. I wasted
more wood upon them than I could well afford to spare. I used up all
the brickbats I could lay my hands on. I threw away something less
than a ton of coal; and on two occasions came near being taken to the
watch-house for smashing a window in the opposite block. All this
proved of no avail. Indeed, my tormentors began at last to get used to
it, to regard it as part of the performance.
"The matter was getting serious. It became evident that either those
cats or myself must leave the premises. I had paid my rent in advance,
and was therefore entitled to quiet use and enjoyment, according to
the terms of my lease. I made up my mind to try one more experiment.
So I bought me a double-barrelled gun, and a quantity of powder and
shot, and gave fair warning that I intended to use them.
"Well, the moon came up one night, with her great round face, and went
walking up the sky with a queenly tread, throwing her light, like a
mantle of brightness, over all the earth. I love the calm of a
moonlight night, in the pleasant spring time, and the cats of our part
of the town seemed to love it too, for they came from every quarter;
from the sheds around the National Garden, from the stables, the
streets, the basements, and the kitchens, creeping stealthily along
the tops of the fences, and along the sheds, and clambering up the
boards that leaned up against the outbuildings, and set themselves
down, scores or less of them, in their old trysting place, right
opposite my chamber windows. To all this I had in the abstract no
objection. If a cat chooses to take a quiet walk by moonlight, if he
chooses to go out for his pleasure or his profit, it is no particular
business of mine, and I haven't a word to say. Cats have rights, and I
have no disposition to interfere with them. If they choose to hold a
convention to discuss the affairs of rat-and-mousedom, they can do it
for all me. But they must go about it decently and in order. They must
talk matters over calmly; there must be no rioting, no fighting. They
must refrain from the use of profane language--they must not swear.
There's law against all this, and I had warned them long before that I
would stand no such nonsense. I told them frankly that I'd let drive
among them some night with a double-barrelled gun, loaded with powder
and duck-shot--and I meant it. But those cats did'nt believe a word I
said. They did'nt believe I had any powder and shot. They did'nt
believe I had any gun, or knew how to use it, if I had; and one great
Maltese, with eyes like tea-plates, and a tail like a Bologna sausage,
grinned and sputtered, and spit, in derision and defiance of my
threats. 'Very well!' said I. 'Very well, Mr. TOM CAT! very well,
indeed! On your head be it, Mr. TOM CAT! Try it on, Mr. TOM CAT, and
we'll see who'll get the worst of it.'
"Well, as I said, the moon came up one night, with her great round
face, and all the little stars hid themselves, as if ashamed of their
twinkle in the splendor of her superior brightness. I retired when the
rumble of the carriages in the streets, and the tramp on the stone
sidewalks had ceased, and the scream of the eleven o'clock train had
died away into silence, with a quiet conscience, and in the confidence
that I should find that repose to which one who has wronged no man
during the day, is justly entitled.
"It may have been midnight, or one o'clock, or two, when I was
awakened from a pleasant slumber, by a babel of unearthly sounds in
the rear of my chamber. I knew what those sounds meant, for they had
cost me fuel enough to have lasted a month. I raised the window, and
there, as of old, right opposite me, on the north end of that long
shed, was an assemblage of all the cats in that part of the town. I
won't be precise as to numbers, but it is my honest belief that there
was less than three hundred of them; and if one among them all was
silent, I did not succeed in discovering which it was. There was that
same old Maltese, with his saucer eyes and sausage tail; and over
against him sat a monstrous brindle; and off at the right was an old
spotted ratter; and on his left was one black as a wolf's mouth, all
but his eyes, which glared with a sulphurous and lurid brightness; and
dotted all around, over a space some thirty feet square, were dozens
more, of all sizes and colors, and _such_ growling and spitting, and
shrieking, and swearing, never before broke, with hideous discord, the
silence of midnight.
"I loaded my double-barrelled gun by candle-light I put plenty of
powder and a handful of shot into each barrel. I adjusted the caps
carefully, and stepped out of the window, upon the narrow roof upon
which it opens. I was then just eighty feet from that cat convention.
I addressed myself to the chairman (the old Maltese) in a distinct and
audible voice and said, 'SCAT!' He did'nt recognise my right to the
floor, but went right on with the business of the meeting. 'SCAT!'
cried I, more emphatically than before, but was answered only by an
extra shriek from the chairman, and a fiercer scream from the whole
assembly. 'SCAT! once,' cried I again, as I brought my gun to a
present. 'SCAT! twice,' and I aimed straight at the chairman, covering
half a dozen others in the range. 'SCAT! three times,' and I let
drive. Bang! went the right-hand barrel; and bang! went the left-hand
barrel. Such scampering, such leaping off the shed, such running away
over the eaves of the outbuildings, over the tops of the wood-sheds,
were never seen before. The echoes of the firing had scarcely died
away, when that whole assemblage was broken up and dispersed.
"'Thomas,' said I, the next morning to the boy who did chores for us,
'there seems to be a cat asleep out on that woodshed, go up and
scare it away.'
"Thomas clambered upon the shed and went up to where that cat lay, and
lifting it up by the tail, hallood back to me, 'This cat can't be
waked up; it can't be scared away--its dead!' After examining it for a
moment--'Somebody's been a shootin' on it, by thunder,' as he tossed
it down into the yard.
"You don't say so!" said I. "That cat was the old Maltese--the
chairman of that convention. I don't know where he boarded, or who
claimed title to him. What I do know is, that it cost me a quarter to
have him buried, or thrown into the river; and that I was suffered to
sleep in peace from the time I made the discovery that _powder and
lead are great quellers of midnight rioting_. They gave _me_ quiet at
least, and saved me from the wickedness of the nightly use of certain
expletives, under the excitement of the occasion, which are not to be
found in any of the religious works of the day."