Recollections of old Superior

              church monthly, a fashion and story magazine and occasional letters.
From planting to harvest sea¬ son, there was very little time for such gatherings and talking- fests. Home gardening and other interests about the place claimed it all. It afforded the past master long easement from these gre¬ garious invaders, and might have been considered a vacation; but outside of schools, the word had no local application or signifi¬ cance. The bay and lake view from the benches on the long porch of the hotel appealed strongly to those inclined to friendly intercourse and scenic contemplation; but occupants were limited to hotel boarders when so inclined, or summer visi¬ tors on rare occasions. Among the latter might have been seen Mr. Sweetzer, a retired capitalist from Indiana, who owned the famous "Sweetzer Tract" and who usually spent a couple of summer months in Superior. He was very notable for his ultra fashionable attire, including the inevitable plug hat and ivory headed cane—reminders of simi¬ lar accessories stowed away in local homes among other classics of former days.
A   LOGGING   CAMP   SOIREE
—Life in a logging camp was not always a somber existence of hard work, or consuming salt pork and beans and "hitting the hay," that the same process might be resumed the next day without loss of energy. There were occasional spots in the drag¬ ging days of a long winter that relieved monotony and enlivened an atrophying mentality for days in anticipation, and weeks in re¬ curring memories. An instance is recalled of a certain logging camp established on the west bank of the St. Louis River, near the water's edge of an old clear¬ ing above Grassy Point known as the Knowlton Place, and operat¬ ed by Baptiste Guesclin; one of the French Canadian settlers on the Roy tract, and who subse¬ quently received the first con¬ tract on the East End entry crib work, and whose descendants now live in Superior—the Bruno family. Mrs. Guesclin was a typi¬ cal belle Canadienne; and while her husband was short in stature, he was long in the characteristics of his race. Both presented a very good example of French Canad¬ ian convivial hospitality. The camp was built of logs, comfort¬ able and roomy. In one end was the family section, in the middle,
the cooking and eating section, and at the other end was the bunk house and lounging quar¬ ters for the men. All sections stood under one roof and com¬ municated. Invitations had been passed among Superior neighbors and friends for a logging camp supper and an evening jollifica¬ tion.
All cordially responded de- snow, cold weather, and inade¬ quate means of travel. The writ¬ er, a participant, because the kids could not be left at home, remembers a large white horse and single sled, or pung, equip¬ ped with a deep box well bedded with hay, and belonging to Mr. Morrisette, grandfather of Cleo- phos Morrisette, a present resi¬ dent of Superior, which did ser¬ vice on the occasion. The most clearly impressed features of the ride were that the horse did very well, but was not breaking any speed records, and always man¬ aged to pull the sled back to the narrow solid track when it skid¬ ded into the deep snow on either side, and that the open stretch up the St. Louis Bay was awful cold. All guests arrived in due time and the greetings were hearty and loquacious; followed by animated and gestural ac¬ counts of home gossip, its come¬ dies and tragedies, interspersed with humorous pleasantries. The youngsters, led by the young Guesclins, lost no time in view¬ ing the wonders of a logging camp; particularly the great piles of logs on the bank awaiting the proper stage of spring water to slip or roll in for a start to their final destination. The long table was set in camp style with every¬ thing steaming hot on board and ready for action. The "ragout" was given first place—where it naturally belonged from provin¬ cial tradition down. The usual menu for a logging camp special included the dried apple pie, wild berry preserves and Arbuckle's coffee—likely replacing a cheap¬ er grade or roasted barley of daily consumption. The hired men shaved and cleaned up after the day's work in the woods and join¬ ed the party; some of them hav¬ ing relatives among the guests and all home town acquaintances. The French meal is usually a process of eating enlivened with light, but spirited conversation. It avoids cramming and aids di¬ gestion. The presence of guests does not lessen the eating, but in¬ creases conversation and prolongs the meal. So it may be safely as¬ sumed that the logging camp sup¬ per was not an affair of quick disposal. The end came, however,
and the feasters retired for relax¬ ing intercourse, while the inner man was performing functional duties and the room was being cleared for the dance.
At the proper time the fiddler made his appearance; that im¬ portant personage upon whom depended the remaining joys and thrills of the evening—or rather, night. After the usual prelimin¬ aries of tuning and executing a few testing harmonies, or what¬ ever they are, he launched off on a lively number—a signal that the dance was on. Stately cotil¬ lions, graceful French fours and vigorous single and double jigs merrily followed each other in rapid succession. The jigs always brought merriment to a climax when ambitious observers, await¬ ing an opportunity, would step in place of a dancer and proceed to excell the retired performer— if he or she could. The rhythmic swish of the shoe pac in the glid¬ ing steps of the dance on the rough board floor had a fascina¬ tion as of the wilds; a fitting component of the scene within its confining walls of rough logs reflected by the light of tallow candles placed about the room. But there were no thoughts of scenic effects or suggestions in the minds of the revelers. It was sufficient and all absorbing to know that the dull and laborious routine of daily life had finally given place to the relief of hun¬ ger for some of the joys of liv¬ ing. All wearing the bloom of vigor and endurance, and the hours fleeting on joyous wings, it required the warning approach of dawn—the harbinger of an¬ other day with its tasks and obli¬ gations, to remind them of the inevitable and of all things earth¬ ly, however heavenly some of them were. So the festivities end¬ ed with many sighs of regret mingled with the parting "aure- voirs."
Why the return trip is a total blank has never been explained; unless obliterated by overpower¬ ing sleep after so much excite¬ ment and strange experience, or a state of mind so absorbed and concentrated on the event that all sense of seeing or hearing had become stupefied.
CHRISTMAS    AND   NEW
YEARS — French settlers main¬ tained the customs of their an¬ cestors dating back to the pro¬ vinces of France where they or¬ iginated. Among these, Christmas and New Years were the most important events of the year; re¬ ligiously and convivially observ¬ ed.     Christmas   was   devoted   to
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