IN the central part of New Hampshire, among the hills
of a farming community, there, is a lake three miles;,
long and half as broad, across which a teamster by the
name of Caleb Howe was hauling masts at the time of the
terrible storm that swept over the whole country in the
winter of 1891. At the north end of the lake, or, as it was
locally called, "the head of the pond," there were large
tracts of the original forest, and here were found the tall
straight pines which Howe was engaged in sledding from
the woods, down across the ice-covered lake, and eight miles
further on, to the railroad station, from which the spars
were sent to the coast. Every afternoon when Howe re
turned from the trip to the station he would proceed to the
"head of the pond," get his load for the next day, and come
back with it as far as the little village at the south end of
the lake, where he would pass the night and, be ready to
start on his next trip early in the morning.
On the morning of January 7th., Caleb started for the
station as usual with his load of two heavy masts. It was
not unusually cold in the morning but the sky was dark and
murky and the air seemed oppressive. While he was going
down a hill the binding chain snapped and the smallest of
the two logs was with difficulty prevented from rolling front
the sleds. Considerable time was spent in repairing the
damage, and this delay, combined with additional bad luck
at the station, made the teamster later than usual in start
ing, on his return to the village. About one o'clock it grew
slightly colder and began to snow and as the afternoon
passed the wind rose 3,nd the cold increased with every hour.
By the tune he reached the lake several inches of snow had
fallen but still he did not think of giving up the last part of
the day's work and remaining at the village, so lie went as
usual to load up for the next day. As he crossed the broad,
LOST ON THE LAKE.