Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1903-10-13
Rangeley Lakes In 1888.
Eek. SECRETARY LONG SENDS AN. INTER
EsrINa COMMUNICATION REGARDING
OUR TROUT FISHING GROUNDS OF
FORTY-FlyE YEARS AGO.

i Hon. John D. Long, whose thoughts
amid the cares and tolls of a busy life
often revert to his "hOme mid TIT
mountains of Maiue," sends the Demo
crat copy of tho following very inter
esting letter written by his brother-in
law, the late Percival w. Bartlett, and
published in the Boston Journal OF
August %, 1858.
In sending this letter Secretary Long
writes the editor of the Democrat as fol.
lows: cit is descriptive of trip that
month to the Rangeley Lakes and gives
an interesting picture of the scenery and
ofthe fishing parties at that early time.
The party were ARENAS F. Cole, Perci-
val w. Bartlett, Frank Buck, your father,
Nv. H. Atwood, DR.. Andrew Childs,
Benjamin Spaulding, Asa Atwood, my
brother, -Zadoc Long, myself and two
friends of your fathers from Massa-
chusetts, whose names have not got.
We drove from Buckfield in day, six.
ty miles; slept, some of US in Mr.. Davis
barn on the hay at Rangeley. We went
to Indian Rock and on the third day, in
two crazy, flat bottom boats rowed
over the Neutrality-suspicious. to Bemls
Stream, the point from which MIR. Bart
lett wrote, and while there we had only
one wretched camp of boughs and sticks.
The day we rowed from the Upper
Dam back to Indian Rock the water was
so rough and the waves SO high that it
| is a wonder we did not 60 to the bottom
of the lake, crowded as we were with so
many men and our heavy packs.
We were gone six or seven days, and
the contrast of the unbroken and unin-
habited forest then and the present day
of railroads, steamboats,, hotels, camps,
cottages and innumerable residences,
between the solitude then of Students
Island and its glory now as summer
resort. is very striking"
MoosELEMAGUNTICOo LAKE,
AUG. 10, '5S.
To the Editor of the Boston Journal:
Here we are-eleven of us-watching
with hungry eyes the movements OF our
extempore cook, who is frying panfuls
of trout for dinner. The precise locality
is known among the lake fishermen as
Beaver Stream, at the southeastern ex-
tremity of the long lake already
written. While the doctor is renewing
his fire and rolling another batch of
speckled fish in Indian meal, Will
give you q brief description OF our
whereabouts and the surroundings.
We are 140 miles from Portland, on
the shore of a second of chain OF four
lakes in the northwestern part of Maine.
The first is Rangeley, then Mooselema-
gunticook, the next Richardson's, and
lastly Umbagog, out of which issues the
Androscoggin. The second of these,
which is the largest, is about Is miles
long by 8 or 10 broad. They are hand.
some sheets of water, surrounded on all
sides by mountains, whose sloping sides
are covered with dense growth OF
spruce, pine and fir trees.
The declivities around Rangeley Lake
are ornamented by some well-cultivated
farms, and these clearings, or "cut-
downs" las they call them), are yearly
making new encroachments on the do
main of the primeval forest; but around
the Others the axe of the lumberman or
the rifle of the sportsman have as yet
walked the only echoes.
Their chief attraction now is the APP
parently inexhaustatle store of fine
trout which they contain. Hither for
many years have come fishing parties
from all the cities about Portland,
Boston, New York, &C.; and if they
select the proper time of year, they are
rewarded. The scenery
alone repays one for the toll. The
clear, bracing air, the ice cold water
from the mountain streams, the health
full exercise in open air, and the appe- |
tite; but at length the fish are fried, the
potatoes steaming hot, the tea poured
out, and our crew are getting their
places. 1t is scene for a painter. |
Saratoga spring water or Newport sea
breeze can show no moro striking cases. |
It is not unusual for one to gain his
pound of weight day during his first
ten or fifteen days experience OF lake
life.
After the rage of hunger is appeased,
we pick up our traps and prepare to
embark for Trout Cove. We roll up our
buffalo robes and bid good by to our
camps. A half hours work with
Ratchet among the green saplings had
fabricated these rustic tents; yet we
leave them with regret, for here stretch
ing our weary limbs on fresh hemlock
boughs, the bright stars shining through
the matched roof, we had enjoyed such
sweet sleep as the lazy denizens OF
castles of Incidence on their couches OF
down never dreamed of.
The men at the oars are pushing us
merrily over the smooth surface of the
lake, and our captain is pointing out
and describing the objects of interest on
the way. But let me introduce Captain
Artemus Cole, the Prince of anglers, to
YOUR readers. lie is sincere lover OF
these lakes; for twenty years, at every
season of the year, he has visited them,
sometimes alone, and sometimes, as now,
at the head of party. He knows every
point and distance, and can give you the
true and legendary history of every
mountain and headland. Like COoper's
hero of the western wilderness, he is
child of nature, simple and honest in his
admiration of her wonderful manifesto
tons. Unlike him, he is well skilled in
historical and mathematical lore. He is
a man whom old Isaak Walton would
have grasped cordially by the hand, for