382 AUDUBON 



While present on more than one occasion at what 

 Americans call " ploughing matches," which they have 

 annually in many of the States, I have been highly grati- 

 fied, and in particular at one, of which I have still a strong 

 recollection, and which took place a few miles from the fair 

 and hospitable city of Boston. There I saw fifty or more 

 ploughs drawn by as many pairs of oxen, which performed 

 their work with so much accuracy and regularity — without 

 the infliction of whip or rod, but merely guided by the 

 verbal mandates of the ploughmen — that I was perfectly 

 astonished. 



After surmounting all obstacles, the lumberers with their 

 stock arrive at the spot which they have had in view, and 

 immediately commence building a camp. The trees around 

 soon fall under the blows of their axes, and before many 

 days have elapsed a low habitation is reared and fitted 

 within for the accommodation of their cattle, while their 

 provender is secured on a kind of loft covered with broad 

 shingles or boards. Then their own cabin is put up ; 

 rough bedsteads, manufactured on the spot, are fixed in 

 the corners ; a chimney composed of a frame of sticks 

 plastered with mud leads away the smoke ; the skins of 

 Bears or Deer, with some blankets, form their bedding, and 

 around the walls are hung their changes of homespun 

 clothing, guns, and various necessaries of life. Many 

 prefer spending the night on the sweet-scented hay and 

 corn blades of their cattle, which are laid on the ground. 

 All arranged within, the lumberers set their " dead falls," 

 large " steel traps," and " spring guns," in suitable places 

 round their camps, to procure some of the Bears that ever 

 prowl around such establishments. 



Now the heavy clouds of November, driven by the 

 northern blasts, pour down the snow in feathery flakes. 

 The winter has fairly set in, and seldom do the sun's glad- 

 dening rays fall on the wood-cutter's hut. In warm flannels 

 his body is enveloped, the skin of a Raccoon covers his 



