detailed to bail them out. Captain Hall carried with him on his last ill-fated expedition in the Polaris, a canvas boat; but this, like all the others, had its heavy, cumbersome and bulky frame. Paper boats, of fine construction, have been made in the neighboring city of Troy, and have proved good for racing purposes. It is almost unnecessary to state that they are permanent in character, and rigid and constant in frame. The Rob-Roy canoe, in which Mr. MacGregor explored so many of the waters of Europe, had a permanent frame. (The remarkable life-dress of Captain Boynton, cannot be considered a true boat, nor would it serve the purpose of one for ordinary use. Life preservers, cork jackets and the valuable canvas life rafts, of tubes, now used on ships, cannot be termed boats, being properly called floats.) All these differ from my boat, for which it is not necessary to carry any frame in any region this side of Arctic and Ant-arctic circles. Even on our great western plains, I have not seen a stream, whether it be the Platte, the Cache La-Poudre, or the Smoky Hill or Republican forks of the Kaw, which had not along its banks sufficient brush or timber from which to construct all the frame that my boat requires. There is hardly an arroyo of the habitable west whose shores have not some margining of brush, sufficient for my boat frame.

The peculiarities, then, of the boat which I place before you to-night, are the means by which I so readily attach a frame within the canvas boat exterior.

The canoe exhibited is twelve feet long and four feet wide; the portion of the boat which is carried weighs ten pounds eight ounces (leaving out the light leathern pieces which receive the corners of keelson and gunwales); and when compactly folded it occupies the space of less than 864 cubic inches, or less than half a cubic foot. It has carried, in a heavy storm, far from land, a burden of seven hundred pounds, and will probably, in smooth water, convey a much greater burden. The prows, as seen, are guarded

with brass cut-waters, riveted on. One great peculiarity of the boat is that no iron or steel is placed in it, and the surveyor using it in the reconnaissance of a lake will have no trouble with local attraction of the needle. The name which I have given it is that of the Adirondack lake on which it was first practically put to the test.

Ampersand Pond! Glorious lake, silent and remote in the depths of the Adirondack forest. Walled in on the south by the dark, massive summits of Mt. Seward loneliest of peaks—and on the north by the ridge of Ampersand or Moose mountain, while other peaks clustering, seem eager to shelter it from all view save that of the celestial orb of day that gilds the valley with its glory, and fills its wavelets with sparkling brilliancy. Well do I remember that day, when the guides, having tied in the light boughs, that we had cut a short while before, carried it down and placed it lightly on the water. on the water. Their merriment at the idea that "such a pork bag," as they called it, could float or carry anything, was scarcely concealed. But when the huge hound, after gazing at it with gravity, walked out upon the log beside which it floated, and soberly climbed in, they could not restrain their laughter, but yet exclaimed, "Well, it looks just like a boat." And then I persuaded first one and then the other, to enter the boat floating meanwhile like a feather, and with the dip of the paddles we were off, over the flashing waters, seeing each wavelet, as it rippled against the sides, flash in the morning

sun.

How we traversed the lake over its deepest waters, with nothing between us and the water but the thin canvas; how, with sextant and compass used from the boat we had so lately occupied as bed or tent by turns, the figure of the lake was mapped; how in it we chased a deer, almost catching him as he leaped ashore, or how, shortly afterward, in pushing down into the outlet of the lake, we suddenly came upon a monstrous panther stretched at full length upon a

log, watching for deer, permitting us to come within a rod or two ere he retreated, leaving us surprised and forgetful of our revolvers, I cannot here expatiate upon.

Nor can I tell you of our more dangerous experience on the Lower Saranac lake, in cold and storm. A stormy, rainy day found us on the beach of Cold brook, an affluent of the Saranac river. Here we designed reconstructing our boat frame, the old one having been thrown away at the last camp. In a short space the guides had cut a young tamarack for the keelson, a couple of stout poles served as gunwales, while two dozen boughs, cut among the bushes at the brook side, formed the ribs. A couple of paddles were hewn from a white cedar near by. While one guide cooked dinner, another, with my aid, tied in the ribs of boughs, slipped in the keelson, and bound on the gunwales and cross pieces, and in an hour and a half from the time we struck the brook we were gliding down stream, three men, two hundred pounds of baggage and instruments, and the huge hound sedately standing toward the prow.

The navigation of the stream was easy. Out in the broader river the violent cold wind made our craft veer a little, and when, an hour later, we struck out into the broad Saranac lake, the white caps in the distance proclaimed a heavy sea. It was a wintry day. Snow lay upon the mountain tops, and when another hour passed, wild, black, foam-crested billows swept around us, and our craft rode safely, now high on the crest, now low in the trough, we felt, though chilled and shivering, when we floated up at Martin's in safety, that it was a triumph.

The Mohawk and Hudson River Railroad. By JOEL

MUNSELL.

[Read before the Albany Institute, April 20, 1875.]

The tradition of an extraordinary excursion upon the rail road between Albany and Schenectady, at an early day in the history of that road, being a subject of much discussion at this time, and not generally well understood, I have endeavored to investigate thoroughly the facts concerning the event. Although it occurred within the memory of persons who may now be present, and who witnessed or may have been cognizant of it, there is still no little doubt and controversy about it, especially as to when it took place, and who occupied places on the train. The lithographed representations of it that are frequently met with serve to perpetuate the memory of the mysterious trip, and to excite curiosity respecting it.

Observing that Knickerbocker began the history of New York with an account of the creation, and that a more recent chronicler has commenced the annals of a neighboring inland county with the discovery of America by Columbus, I am disposed to make a starting point at that era in the history of artificial locomotion, when the transportation of coals for fuel in England had become so great a strain upon physical exertion, as to stimulate. invention in aid of the efforts of man and beast to overcome obstacles in the pursuit of that enterprise.

Accordingly we find that in 1676, two centuries ago, a rude contrivance was brought into use, by which coals. were moved in cars running upon wooden rails; and it