66 LETTERS FROM THE BACKWOODS. 



young. As her form disappeared round a bend of 

 the stream, I could not help murmuring, '' Heaven 

 speed thee, anxious mother !" Ah, what a chattering 

 liiere was amid the reeds when her shadow darkened 

 over the hiding-place, and she folded her wings amid 

 her offspring, and listened with matronly dignity to 

 the story each one had to tell ! 



All this, however, was speedily forgotten as we 

 emerged on the lake, whose bosom was swept by a 

 strong wind, against which we were compelled to force 

 our tiny skiffs as we pulled for our camp. It was 

 now nine o'clock, and I never waited with so much 

 impatience for a meal as I did for the johnny-cake 

 that was slowly roasting amid the ashes. We had 

 but one pan, and until the cake was done we could 

 not cook our trout, and so, stretched under the shadow 

 of a huge stump, with my chip-plate in my hand, I 

 lay and watched the crackling flames with all the 

 philosophy I could muster. At length everything 

 was ready, and with a piece of johnny-cake on a chip, 

 and a trout on top of that, I slashed away with an 

 appetite ar\^ epicure would give a small fortune to 

 possess. After breakfast, we had no dishes or forks 

 to clean, but, throwing them both away, wiped our 

 knives on a chip, and in a moment were ready for a 

 start. It was Saturday, and the heavens, which had 

 been so clear the night before, now began to gather 

 blackness, and the burdened wind moaned through 

 the forest, or went sobbing over the lake, that was 

 every moment fretting itself into greater excitement, 

 and everything betokened a gloomy and tempestuous 



