Sleeping in the Forest. 87 



tiny trumpet of the musquitoe sounded in our ears, 

 and the sting of his puny spear admonislied us to re- 

 plenish the fire. 



Few men can sleep late in the forest, especially 

 among those little accustomed to 



"A lodge in some vast wilderness." 



The change from the solemn dirge of the night, to the 

 gay joyous song of the morning, — as note after note 

 chimes in, to welcome the rising day, is too exhil- 

 arating to allow of the continuance of slumber. 



We were up before the sun the next morning. A 

 plunge in the lake from a point of rocks near ou) 

 shantee, dissipated the lassitude that hung upon us 

 and a few throws of the fly provided us a breakfast oi 

 trout. 



