Camping on the St. Lawrence; Or, On the Trail of the Early Discoverers

by Everett T. Tomlinson

It was soon discovered that many others were evidently going to the same place, and along the dusty country roads teams could be seen approaching from almost every direction. “Smart” appearing turnouts, along with others which must have done duty for several generations for the busy folk of the region, were seen, and Bob demurely pointed out what he declared to be the original of the “wonderful one hoss shay.”

When our party climbed the rambling stairway which led to the room in the third floor of the town hall where Hamlick was to appear, it was an unusual sight upon which they looked. Old people and young were entering the room; mothers with little babes in their arms; the ever-present small boy, whose disposition does not vary materially whether he dwells in country or city; bashful young fellows, who apparently were wondering what they should do with those hands of theirs which, somehow, would protrude too far below the short sleeves of their coats; all these and many more were there.

In the front of the room the platform was hidden from sight by some blue denim curtains hung on wires, which were to be manipulated by some one behind the scenes. Some kerosene lamps were giving a faint light from brackets on the walls, and a huge wood stove stood in one corner of the room where it had done duty for years at the gatherings in the bitter winter days.

There was no usher to show our party the way, but as they perceived that no places had been reserved, and that all were free to go where they chose, they at once turned toward the few remaining seats which were well up in the front of the room and quietly seated themselves. These seats were benches, across the backs of which narrow strips of board had been nailed, and forced the occupant to maintain an attitude which was anything but comfortable. The whole scene was so strange and unlike anything which any of them had ever seen before, that the novelty banished even the sense of discomfort, and all gazed about them with an air of interest as keen as doubtless that of the good people of the Corners would have been had they been privileged to enter some spacious hall in the great city from which the summer visitors had come.

To add to the interest, Ethan was discovered seated in the end of one of the pews or benches which our friends appropriated, but his appearance was so markedly different from that to which the boys had been accustomed that they had some difficulty in really persuading themselves that it was their boatman before them.

Ethan was dressed in a suit of rusty black broadcloth, which evidently had seen other days if it had not seen better, and his bearing was so solemn that at first the boys fancied that he was conducting himself as he would have done in church.

“Aren’t they almost ready to begin, Ethan?” inquired Jock, after he had presented the sturdy boatman to his friends.

“I s’pose so. They were to begin at seven-thirty sharp,” replied Ethan, solemnly.

“Tom must be excited,” suggested Jock, for want of something else to say.