n, and a
little girl of her own with a genius for drawing. Mr. Storer is six
feet three and a half inches in height and has a Greek profile and
soft large brown eyes."

The Stevensons reached Saranac when the woods were all aflame with
autumn glory, and to Mr. Stevenson's mother it all seemed unreal and
"more like a painted scene in a theatre" than actuality.

The house in which they lived, a white frame cottage with green
shutters and a veranda around it, belonged to a guide named Andrew
Baker, who took parties into the woods for hunting and fishing
excursions. Baker was a typical frontiersman--brave, obstinate,
independent, and fearless--who might have stepped out of _Leather
Stocking_, and he had a kind, sweet wife. The cottage stood on high
ground, so that its occupants could look down on the river, and the
view, except for the brilliant hues of the frost-tinted leaves, was
enough like the Highlands to make Louis and his mother feel quite at
home.

Life in the cottage was frontier-like in its simplicity, and the
Scotch lady, for whom this was the first experience in "roughing it,"
asked for many things that caused great surprise to the village
storekeeper, including such unheard-of luxuries as coffee-pots,
teapots, and egg-cups. Writing to her friend Miss Boodle, the
"gamekeeper" of Skerryvore, Mrs. Robert Louis Stevenson describes
their life at Saranac:

"We are high up in the Adirondack Mountains, living in a guide's
cottage in the most primitive fashion. The maid does the cooking (we
have little beyond venison and bread to cook) and the boy comes every
morning to carry water from a distant spring for drinking purposes. It
is already very cold, but we have calked the doors and windows as one
calks a boat, and have laid in a store of extraordinary garments made
by the Canadian Indians. I went to Montreal to buy these and came back
laden with buffalo skins, snow shoes, and fur caps. Louis wants to
have his photograph taken in his, hoping to pass for a mighty hunter
or sly trapper. He is now more like the hardy mountaineer, taking long
walks on hill-tops in all seasons and weathers. It is something like
Davos here, all the invalids looking stronger and ruddier than we who
are supposed to be in good health.... Every afternoon a vehicle called
a 'buckboard' is brought to our door, sometimes with one large horse
attached, and sometimes we have a pair of lovely spirited ponies. The
buckboard is so light that when w