,66 FOREST TA'EES. 



longer wonders that the fresh-flowing stream that was so great a comfort 

 and pleasure, sparkling as it ran through his pastures, dries up and 

 disappears : the trees that sheltered it and the leaves that caught the 

 moisture from the atmosphere are destroyed. 



I know extensive farm lands where scarcely a tree has been left, 

 even as a shelter for the cattle during the hot days of Summer. A 

 thriftless thrift this might be called, where even a few acres could not be 

 spared for the supply of the household fires in future years. 



The White Cedar. — American Arbor \'iT.t. — T/iuj'a occidentalism (L.) 



Those frequently occurring and often extensive tracts of land called 

 Cedar Swamps form one of the remarkable features of the low-lying 

 lands of the Canadian wilderness : deep tangled thickets, through which 

 the foot of man cannot penetrate without the aid of the axe, or his eye 

 pierce beyond the limits of a few yards, so dense is the mass of vege- 

 tation that obstructs his view of the interior. A secure hiding-place for 

 the wild denizens of the forest is the Cedar Swamp. Within its tangled 

 recesses lurk the Be-^r, the Racoon, the Fox, and when these are absent, 

 the timid doe and her fawn rest secure from the gun of the wary hunter. 

 The wily Indian cannot molest them within these impenetrable solitudes ; 

 and here wild birds of such species as do not migrate to warmer latitudes, 

 retire during the frosts and snows of the Winter season. 



It is from the edges of the Cedar Swamp that the first hollow 

 drumming of the Partridge is heard in early spring. The rapid ham- 

 mering sound of the Woodpecker greets the ear of the axe-man, or the 

 whispering notes of the little Tree Creeper, and the pleasant cry of the 

 little Chickadees, as they tumble and twirl and flirt among the evergreens, 

 chattering to one another, as if rejoicing in the return of sunshine and 

 bright skies once more, and the bestirring of the insect tribes that lurk 

 beneath the sheltering bark of the old White Cedars. 



A mass of fallen trees, deep beds of mosses, rank swamp grasses, 

 and sedges, ferns, and low bushes, and seedling evergreens, occupy the 

 spongy, porous soil, and conceal the stagnant water that lies fermenting 

 at their roots in those dismal swamps. 



Silent as the grave, and damjj and lonely as they appear, life — 

 insect life, swarms here. Let us pause for a few minutes to examine 

 .that huge trunk that lies athwart its fellows, bleaching in the snows and 

 rains of many seasons. It looks sound, but strike it with your axe, and 

 you find it is a hollow cylinder ; beneath the white and gray shreddy 

 bark the woody substance is perforated into countless cells and intricate 

 labyrinthine galleries, the mysteries of which we strive in vain to trace 



