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."
CHAPTER XII.
THE FIRST CHAIN OP PONDS--SHOOTING BY TURNS--SHEEP WASHING--A PLUNGE
AND A DIVE--A ROLAND FOR AN OLIVER.
We started early the next morning up Bog River, intending to reach the
"first chain of ponds," some twenty miles deeper in the wilderness, as
the stream runs, on the banks of which our pioneer had been instructed
to pitch our tents. This day's journey, it was understood, would be a
hard one, as there were eight carrying places, varying from ten rods
to half a mile in length. The Bog River is a deep, sluggish stream for
five or six miles above the falls, just at the lake. It goes creeping
along, among, and around immense boulders, thrown loose, as it were,
in mid channel. At this distance, the stream divides, the right hand
channel leading to the two chains of ponds and Mud Lake, where it
takes its rise; and the left to Round Pond, and little Tupper's Lake,
and a dozen other nameless sheets of water, laying higher up among the
mountains. Our course lay up the right hand channel, which, for half
a mile above the forks, comes roaring and tumbling through a mountain
gorge, plunging over falls, and whirling and surging among the
boulders, in a descent of three of four hundred feet in all.
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