Mount Bigelow.—This is a noble, grand, historical mountain, situated on the south side of Dead river, in Franklin county. For years it had been my strong desire to make the ascent, and in May, 1833, the desire was gratified. With six others, I left camp, and by evening reached Green's hotel, where we obtained lodgings for the evening. At early dawn, having supplied ourselves with lunch, tin cup and hatchet, we began the ascent on the northeast side. We soon passed the thrifty timber and aided our ascent of the craggy sides of the mountain by clinging to the shrubs that found roothold in the crevices of the rocks. It may not be amiss to say that we rested, that we rested frequently, for mountain climbing is no light work for those unaccustomed to it. While toiling wearily upward we found ourselves enveloped in mist, or a cloud, from which we soon emerged to find the heavens above us clear and bright, while leaden clouds shut out the landscape below. At twelve o'clock, noon, we were on the summit. By this time the clouds had been dispersed. The air was clear and cold and beneath us lay, as in a beautiful panorama, the lands and lakes of Maine. There are two peaks, about half a mile apart, between which is a valley and a small lake. From the highest of these peaks the view was magnificent. In the far north we imagined we saw Canada. The vast, northern expanse was all unoccupied save by a few farms at the foot of the mountain, and by a few camps of lumbermen, hunters and trappers. Looking to the northeast, we saw in the blue distance, glittering with snow drifts, Mount Katahdin. A little north of the divide line to Katahdin lay Moosehead lake, the largest, most beautiful lake in Maine.
At this season of the year the snow had disappeared from the valleys and hills, but the summits of the mountains were still white. In all directions the scene was grand and inspiring. We could trace the Kennebec river in its windings to the sea and fancied we could see in the dim distance the blue Atlantic. To the southwest mountains seemed piled on mountains, while here and there in intermediate vales bright lakes reflected the blue of the upper deep. In this direction there were farms, but they looked like mere dots on the face of the earth. Lake Umbagog lay coiled in the shade of distant mountains in the southwest. We fancied that we could see the ragged crest of the white mountain still further beyond. The scene had also its historical associations. Along the base of this mountain, on the northwestern side, ere his name had been sullied by the foulest treason in our country's history, Benedict Arnold bravely led the Colonial troops in the campaign against Canada. With him, as an aid, was Col. Bigelow, whose name is given to the mountain. The gallant little army halted on the banks of Dead river at the base of the mountain, and made their camp. While the army was resting at this camp Lieut. Col. Bigelow ascended the mountain and planted his country's flag upon the highest peak, doubtless the first white man who made the ascent, and the mountain is his monument to-day. Around the site of the camp was planted the colony of Flagstaff.
While we were gazing on the magnificent scene, musing upon its varied beauties and recalling its historical associations, the sun set, and reluctantly we set out on our return, a descent the more perilous because it was growing dark. Extreme caution was necessary; nevertheless we made good headway, as we found ourselves sometimes sliding and even rolling down the path that we had ascended with so much difficulty in the forenoon. It was long after nightfall that, tired and hungry, we reached Wyman's hotel on the banks of Dead river.
Lumbering in Maine.—The practical lumberman did not usually start his teams for the pineries until snowfall and the freezing of the lakes and rivers. The first thing was to select a place for operations. This was done in the open season. When the winter had fairly set in the lumberman, with his ox teams, generally six oxen to a sled, the sleds laden with camp plunder, would start for the pineries. The slow ox teams would consume many days making the journey. The crew of men employed for the winter generally met the teams in camp. The snow would be cleared away for the camp, and a fire built. The cook would prepare a supper of fried pork, fritters or pancakes, tea, syrup and New England apple sauce, the crew meanwhile cutting boughs, wood, etc., and preparing for permanent camp. Supper over, the cattle were tied to trees and fed. Water was secured for evening use only. A glowing fire would be kept up, around which the crew would gather to spend the evening in talking over the adventures of the day, discussing plans for the morrow or singing camp songs. Thus the evening would pass merrily and swiftly. At the hour for retiring parties of two would spread their blankets on a couch of fir or cedar boughs, and lie down to rest. Next morning the cook would rise at four o'clock to prepare breakfast, which over, as soon as it was light enough the crew would commence the work of the day. Every man goes to his assigned duties, the boss in charge having the general oversight.
The life of a lumberman is one of exposure to the elements, yet it is not necessarily unfriendly to the development of character. With a well ordered camp and gentlemanly crew the winter may pass away pleasantly, and the young man engaged in the comparatively hard toil of the camp, may, with books and papers and cheerful converse with the more thoughtful of his elders, improve the long evenings spent around the camp fire. Many a Maine boy has received here the greater part of his training for the duties of after life.
Sunday was usually occupied in reading, singing, and doing some of the lighter work of camp, such as repairing sleds, shoeing oxen and making axe helves or visiting neighboring camps. It was a day of rest only so far as the heavier work of the camp was suspended. Sanctuary privileges there were none. The work would often close in the sunny days of March. The men would mostly depart for home. A few would remain to drive the logs with the first water from the melting of the snows late in April.
Driving logs in the rapid waters of Maine is hazardous work. Scarcely a day passes without imminent risk to life and limb of the hardy and venturesome men engaged in the work of breaking log landings and jams, and running boats. Men are exposed to wet and cold from dawn till dark. This work requires active and vigorous men, constitutionally fitted and carefully trained to the work. They are usually sociable, lively and wide awake, these qualities enabling them to endure, and even to enjoy, the life of hardship which they lead, and to which they become so accustomed that they are unwilling to leave it until worn out by its inevitable hardship.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
W. H. C. Folsom [Frontispiece]
James S. Anderson opp [55]
Martin Mower [60]
John McKusick opp [68]
Edward White Durant [74]
William M. Blanding [114]
Reuben F. Little [121]
Oliver Wendell Holmes Hospital [157]
John Comstock opp [170]
Hans B. Warner opp [207]
Rev. Wm. T. Boutwell [273]
Devil's Chair [301]
Frank N. Peterson [320]
Rev. E. E. Edwards [348]
Smith Ellison [351]
Isaac Staples opp [413]
Jacob Bean [416]
Louis Hospes [418]
Fort Snelling [498]
William D. Washburn opp [517]
John S. Pillsbury opp [528]
St. Anthony Falls [531]
Birdseye View of St. Paul opp [536]
Henry H. Sibley opp [553]
Alex. Ramsey opp [555]
Henry M. Rice opp [558]
Edmund Rice opp [560]
Wm. Rainey Marshall opp [568]
Wm. H. Fisher [571]
John B. Sanborn opp [577]
H. P. Hall [589]
Hon. G. W. Le Duc [594]
Lucius F. Hubbard opp [597]
Home of the Author [614]
State Seal [658]
Seal of Old Settlers Association [732]