tree, which gently waves, close by, its fans of verdure.

A multitude of animals, placed in these retreats by the hand of the Creator, spread about life and enchantment. From the extremities of the avenues may be seen bears, intoxicated with the grape, staggering upon the branches of the elm trees; cariboos bathe in the lake; black squirrels play among the thick foliage; mocking birds, and Virginian pigeons not bigger than sparrows, fly down upon the turf, reddened with strawberries; green parrots with yellow heads, purple woodpeckers, cardinals red as fire, clamber up to the very tops of the cypress trees; humming birds sparkle upon the jessamine of the Floridas; and birdcatching serpents hiss while suspended to the domes of the woods, where they swing about like the creepers themselves.

If all is silence and repose in the savannahs on the other side of the river, all here, on the contrary, is sound and motion; peckings against the trunks of the oaks, frictions of animals walking along as they nibble or crush between their teeth the stones of fruits, the roaring of the waves, plaintive cries, dull bellowings, and mild cooings fill these deserts with a tender yet wild harmony.

- COUNT CHATEAUBRIAND.

MAD RIVER

IN THE WHITE MOUNTAINS

TRAVELER

Why dost thou wildly rush and roar,
Mad River, O mad River?
Wilt thou not pause and cease to pour
Thy hurrying, headlong waters o'er
This rocky shelf forever?

What secret trouble stirs thy breast?
Why all this fret and flurry?

Dost thou not know that what is best
In this too restless world is rest

From overwork and worry?

THE RIVER

What wouldst thou in these mountains seek,

O stranger from the city?

Is it perhaps some foolish freak

Of thine, to put the words I speak
Into a plaintive ditty?

TRAVELER

Yes; I would learn of thee thy song,

With all its flowing numbers,

And in a voice as fresh and strong

As thine is, sing it all day long,
And hear it in my slumbers.

THE RIVER

A brooklet nameless and unknown

Was I, at first, resembling

A little child, that all alone

Comes venturing down the stairs of stone, Irresolute and trembling.

Later, by wayward fancies led,
For the wide world I panted;
Out of the forest dark and dread
Across the open fields I fled,

Like one pursued and haunted.

I tossed my arms, I sang aloud,
My voice exultant blending
With thunder from the passing cloud,
The wind, the forest bent and bowed,
The rush of rain descending.

I heard the distant ocean call,

Imploring and entreating;

Drawn onward, o'er this rocky wall
I plunged, and the loud waterfall

Made answer to the greeting.

And now, beset with many ills,
A toilsome life I follow;
Compelled to carry from the hills
These logs to the impatient mills
Below there in the hollow.

Yet something ever cheers and charms
The rudeness of my labors;

Daily I water with these arms

The cattle of a hundred farms,

And have the birds for neighbors.

Men call me Mad, and well they may,
When, full of rage and trouble,
I burst my banks of sand and clay,
And sweep their wooden bridge away,
Like withered reeds or stubble.

Now go and write thy little rhyme,
As of thine own creating.

Thou seest the day is past its prime;
I can no longer waste my time;

The mills are tired of waiting.

-HENRY W. LONGFELLOW.

CROSSING THE ST. LAWRENCE

The traveler of to-day who crosses the St. Lawrence between Quebec and Levis, during the winter season, comfortably seated between decks in the powerful screw steamers which occupy only a few minutes in passing from shore to shore, forcing their way through the drifting floes, untroubled by mist or wind-driven snow, can have but a faint idea of what crossing, in the old days, really meant.

The trip was made in heavy canoes, or dugouts, formed of two large trunks solidly joined by a wide and flat keel of polished oak, turned up at both ends, so that the craft could be used as a sledge when needed.

The captain sat astern, on a small platform where he commanded the maneuvering, steering with a special paddle; while, at the bow, sometimes standing right on the pince -the slender projection of the prow another fearless fellow explored the passes and watched the false openings.

In front of the pilot, a certain space was reserved for the passengers who lay on the flat bottom, wrapped up and covered with buffalo robes, and perfectly protected from the cold, but with hardly the power of moving. The rest of the canoe was crossed with thin planks, equally spaced, which not only strengthened the craft, but also served as seats for the men, who pad