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“Raquette Lake.—This
is the forest primeval, they tell me, men tell me, that is; a superior
sex, believe me my sisters, and convenient to tell us things we want to
know without the trouble of learning— that the lumberman has cut and
gashed the woods away up the Raquette River, has dammed the forest lake as
to leave their shores a melancholy blight of dead trees standing in the
water, and has turned mile upon mile of the beautiful river course into a
sort of canal between sloping mud banks, where one cannot disembark for
lunch or rest; but that it was never profitable to cut and float the logs
from quite this distance, and so most of the lake's shore is still State
property.”
“I know it must be
true, for right on the lake shore you may see many a big pine rearing its
great head a hundred feet aloft upon a stem two feet and more through near
the base, and I know that the Raquette River some miles below is the muddy
and melancholy waste they describe.”
“We came through
that waste. Every one does. This big lake, big enough for storms and
shipwreck and wide driving reaches of angry water, it is the meeting,
place of the three highways into the woods' heart, from the north up the
Raquette, from the southeast by way of Blue Mountain Lake, from the
southwest by way of the Fulton chain and the Browns tract inlet where in
the muddy stream there grew more water lilies than I had supposed the
world held.”
“And I know that the
Raquette River wood, what a delight to travel again by boat as the Indians
did! Up the Saranac, through Round lake, a glimpse of the Upper Saranac
Lake, the Indian Carry, across to the Spectacle ponds, the row up the
river, where I saw the most lovely freight barge, rowed by six strong men
and rejoiced that such things still were.”
“Up Long Lake;
through lovelier reaches of foaming shaded river beyond; through Forked
Lake and across to the foot of the Raquette, we had a two days journey
full, every moment of delight. There are little steamers here and on Blue
Mountain lake and there are hotels and Saratogas and women happy to be for
once in a place where there are more than men enough to ‘go round,’ and
splendid men, too.”
“The last week of
the summer, and very autumnal in the evening, chill is here among the
mountains. Yet summer still reigns unquestioned in the gowns of the fair
ones here. They are, as I have said, two kinds. Some fishers of men don
appropriate garb of serge and leather and join the prey in their sports;
some dress in frills and furbelows and take care of their complexions at
the hotels. Each method is the best and worst. It depends on the person
who adopts it.”
“There is an
adorable brunette at one of the hotels on Blue Mountain Lake who carries
devastation through the woods in a most extraordinary gown of moire with a
deep frill at the bottom, attached by three rows of delicate embroidery,
swept downward to a point in front. The bodice is adorned with a similar
triplet of bands, forming a pointed yoke which is filled in with white
satin, embroidered with forget-me-nots. The sleeves have triple puffs. The
shoulders are roofed with flat epaulettes of embroidery. There are big
satin bows at the top and front of the shoulder seam, and a satin belt
with a big medallion buckle. The hat is a high-crowned shade with wide
spreading plumes, and there is a parasol for some strong man to carry.”
“Such garb is rather
ridiculous in the woods, but the complexion of the wearer is most
admirable, and—-well, men have the instinct of wanting to take care of
pretty, helpless creatures. On the other hand, there is an adorable girl,
shorter and plumper than the other, whose leggings of buff are scratched
with blackberry briars, whose waist is encircled with a wide ribbon
corselet, who wears, when she thinks of it, a flat sailor hat in a rather
bedraggled condition of sunburn and rain slain and a fetching little
jacket of dark cloth edged with black braid, opening over a soft front of
yellow silk, chosen so "it won't show dirt so soon," the wearer frankly
says.”
“And between two
such examples of the opposing schools the honors of contest are easy. But
I notice that ever, the wood nymph puts a big, fluffy bow at her throat
before coming down to dinner, when she has time.”
“There is no
question that the drift of the times is away from sweet simplicity and
toward flounce, frippery and frivol. The draped skirt—“
“Yes, we are to have
the draped skirts. There's no dodging that conclusion. They will be worn
only for rather ceremonious purposes, the plain skirt seeking reservation
for purposes of active exercise. I don't look to see flounces on a bicycle
skirt, surely, not yet. But, I have heard from New York of the arrival of
a gown bowed across with 13 rows of narrow lace—not wide flounces, each
meeting the other, but narrower ones, perhaps an inch wide and three
inches apart.”
“And in Paris there
is free use made of wide-flounced skirts, worn with matching capes and of
embroidery in long panels, and of van dykes heavily marked with embroidery
and of single bands of lace flouncing. And all these things are held in
especial regard for fete gowns and lawn parties.”
“Extraordinary is the
popularity of the corselet. It may take the form of a simple wide belt.
It’s more apt to be defiant with embroidery and ablaze with steel or jet
or paste. The underlying principle of the corselet is that it calls
attention to a fine figure, and now that tight lacing is no longer the
mode there are fine figures in plenty to exhibit.”
“The
spotted-muslin-over-silk combination is most popular. The colors are pale
pink and cream, pale blue and white, pale green and yellow. Such a gown
can be made very simply, with a perfectly plain bodice, ribbon belt and
collar and sleeves snug-fitting well above the elbow, and gives a charming
effect of neat simplicity to which the examination of the dressmaker's
bill might be fatal.”
“It has become
possible to decorate the-new tight sleeves with little rows of lace,
bowing them about to match the trimming of the skirt. Such refinement of
the sleeve is really an innovation and not altogether a pleasant one. It
must be that only a lady with very long, thin arms could possibly need
such a device.”
“The battle of the
shoes is interesting. Extremely wide, round toes are the new style,
but—people won't wear 'em. The very ultra height of fashion is what is
called the "bulldog" toe, an odd, unnecessarily wide shape. These look so
odd to eyes accustomed to the Razor Point, that what is really worn, and
will be for the next six months, will be a compromise between the wide and
narrow toes; and that is very satisfactory.” ----- ELLEN OSBORN in a
letter written to the Watertown Herald, September 12, 1896
They
were lured by the romance of vacationing in the heart of the primeval
forest, these fishers of men in the wilderness. :>)
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