The road ran about fifty feet
from the cottage and, although we were among the hills, it was a busy
place. Ox teams were constantly passing. The large cook house was
below and the paper mill buildings were near at hand. About 150 men,
constantly going from one place to another in their departments, made
us feel we were not alone. There was fine fishing in the pool below
the falls. The salmon would come up the creek from the ocean and the
finest ones found their way into the pool, and on Friday the cook and
his men supplied the tables with fresh fish. How many times have I
seen those fine fish, caught on the prongs of a spear, writhe and
wriggle to get off. At first I could not taste them, I felt so sorry
to see them killed in that way. I would not go out on Friday until
after the fishing was done. The lamper eels crawled up the stream and
the men gathered them by the barrels full and made oil from them.
I had a Jersey cow and a fine milk house with a stream of cold water
running through. I made my own butter and had enough to supply the
Sime family when they spent their summer there. The lovely moonlight
nights on this fine sheet of water above the dam are with me now, and
how the hills resounded with our songs as we rowed along. I had a fine
horse and carriage, and it was great sport to go to town with our
splendid Jim, as we called him. Those were happy times. The children
had the best of air and full play among the hills.
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