She was thankful for the oats but failed to respond as was desired. Oats were used to persuade her to lower her head below the top of the car. It was no use then stratagem was tried and the horse was backed to the door, but further than that she refused to go. Jack coaxed, pulled, petted and urged, others pushed and lifted. One of them walked into the box car quietly, the other one could not make up its mind whether to go in or go on top. (Also, in the “News from Reddington” was this missive about a logging horse with a mind of its own) Jack Toothaker had two large horses at the station Monday, ready for shipment to Dead River for use at Sylvester’s Camp. What a change from the old-time logging camps when the men saw nothing but salt pork. They have choice beef at the camps, shipped direct from Swift Bros. The men as well as the Company are anxiously waiting for it. Not enough snow for logging to advantage yet. Photo courtesy of the Rangeley lakes Historical Society before being moved to it’s lakeside location in the winter of 1895/96.
John B.Marbles’ Original Rangeley Lake House when originally located on Main St. Snow was essential to moving logs from stump to processing, of course, and just as we await snow today to ski, snowshoe, snowmobile and still harvest timber upon, but at least the food was better in 1895 than in the “old days”… Redington was once a small logging village serviced by the narrow-gauge railway that featured a large sawmill which employed quite a few workers. Quite an undertaking at the time…at anytime for that matter!. out to his pasture on the point located on the eastern shore of City Cove. It was jacked up upon timbers and dragged by 40 teams of horse from Main St. Marble at the time was preparing to move his entire 3 story hotel. Marble the owner of the Rangeley Lake House. They got no moose or deer but, they got lots of cold, and when the keen attorney left town, he hadn’t got fairly warmed.Īn “ulster” is a gentleman’s long overcoat and the “Landlord Marble” mentioned was John B. By constantly hovering over the stove, they were alive in the morning. There was a stove, lots of wood, but too much cold. The ulster was in demand, only there wasn’t enough of it.
The destination was Greeley Pond, where there was a camp, or once had been it was open in spots, and such spots were everywhere. He took Marsh Carlton as guide, but refused Landlord Marble’s suggestion to take blankets, and only after repeated urging would he take long his ulster. While here he thought how nice it would be to take home a monster moose or a fine buck. Greenleaf, Esq., of Farmington, was in town last week. As a Registered Maine Guide, what follows brought back a few memories of some of my past “sports” who had ignored some well-intended advice as to what gear they should probably bring along.
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