18 LETTERS FROM THE BACKWOODS. 



across his breast, exclaiming, ^I am shot !' His little 

 son fainted, and fell at my feet. As soon as I could, 

 I hurried to the spot, and found Mr. Henderson sit- 

 ting on the ground, supported by his friend, and going 

 fast." He committed his soul to his Maker, told his 

 son to be a good boy and give his love to his mother, 

 and in a few minutes more passed the mystery of 

 mysteries, and entered on the scenes of the boundless 

 hereafter. He was a man of noble character and 

 generous disposition, and loved by all who knew him. 

 It is singular to observe how often men fall victims 

 to that which they most dread and most guard against. 

 Mr. Henderson was nervously afraid of firearms ; so 

 much so that he could not see a man passing along 

 the street with a gun on his shoulder, without going 

 out to inquire if it was loaded. He carried the pistol 

 solely as a means of defence in the w^oods, and in lay- 

 ing it down on a rock, struck the Irock while the 

 muzzle was pointed directly towards him. Poor 

 Cheney stood and sighed over the spot, and shook his 

 head mournfully, exclaiming, "Oh, he was a noble 

 man!" It was affecting to witness such deep and last- 

 ing feeling in a man who had spent half his life in the 

 woods. — You can well imagine that it was with silent 

 and thoughtful steps, and some sad forebodings, we 

 again entered the bosom of the forest. 



But I will not enter into the details of this tedious 

 tramp. I cannot make you see the dark spruce fo- 

 rest, with its carpet of moss, and paths of wild deep 

 and bears trodden hard by their frequent passage 

 from the mountains to the streams ; nor induce you 



