CHAPTER I.
LAKE SUPERIOR.
Don Pedro is descended from one of what we in our young country call the old and highly-respectable families, and having been nurtured amid the refinements and luxuries of life, is one of the most gentlemanly men imaginable. At the public rooms of a hotel, in the halls, on the piazza, in the saloon of a steamboat, he can never pass a lady, though she be a perfect stranger, without in the most deferential manner removing his hat. To this reverence for the fair sex he adds an easy elegance towards his own, that at once commands attention and respect.
Never having taken an active share in the world’s affairs, his abilities, which are far above the average, have lain dormant or run to criticising art or committing poetry; and he is rather apt to discuss very small matters with a minuteness and persistency that important ones scarcely merit.
He had travelled Europe, of course, had shot quail and taken trout in Long Island, fired at crocodiles on the Nile and jackals in the desert; and although probably the greatest exposure of his life had been damp sheets at a country inn, and his severest hardship the finding his claret sour or being compelled twice in one day to eat of the same kind of game, he was now seized with a sporting mania, and determined to rough it in the woods. An unsafe companion, perhaps, the reader may think; but it is not always the roughest men who have the most pluck, nor those accustomed to the commonest fare who grumble the least when offered still coarser, and there is truth in the words of worthy Tom Draw: “Give me a raal gentleman, one as sleeps soft and eats high, and drinks highest kind, to stand roughing it.”
So we discussed matters over a comfortable dinner, with the aid of a couple of bottles of claret, one of champagne, and a little brandy; and Don concluded he would as lief eat salt pork as woodcock, and ship biscuit as French rolls. He was anxious to examine my list of camp articles, and was quite ready to do away with a large part of them; but finally determined to leave that matter to me, holding me strictly responsible for carrying any unnecessary effeminate luxuries. The discussion was not a short one, but this happy decision being arrived at, I was perfectly satisfied.
We met by appointment a few days later at the Angier House, in that thriving, active town of Cleveland, which seems to be drawing to itself the business of the other cities of Lake Erie, and, cannibal-like, to be growing fat on their exhausted lives. It is a thoroughly American city, and, like all our cities, doubtless has the handsomest street in the world, for so we were assured by the citizens.
A large part of the trade of Cleveland is with the mines of Lake Superior, and steamers leave almost daily for that region, carrying a miscellaneous assortment of the necessaries of life, and returning laden with copper and iron ore. Not content, however, with this unexciting freight, these vessels propose to carry excursion parties round the lakes, and are all, if their advertisements are to be believed, supplied with brass bands, and every luxury of the season.
In Cleveland we intended to purchase such ardent spirits as we might require, and Don commenced:
“Now as to this question of liquor, I should like to have your views concerning kind and quantity?”