The Moose. 175 



and it may well be for years a desolate and solitary 

 place, but I selected many a spot where, long years 

 hence, would be beautiful and productive farms. 

 Where meadows and green fields would stretch away 

 from the river towards the hills, and where fine farm- 

 houses and barns would be seen, and flocks and herds 

 would be grazing in rich pastures. The interval land 

 along this beautiful river, will one day be valuable, as 

 it cannot fail to be productive. The average width of 

 the river for twenty -five miles above Tupper's Lake, 

 is some fifteen or twenty rods, and its banks are every- 

 where lined with a dense forest of gigantic lowland 

 trees. We savv^, every few rods, the paths made by 

 the deer, as they entered or left the river, in crossing, 

 and in the soft, tenacious clay at one spot, we saw an 

 " old track" of the moose. Days had passed since he 

 crossed, but there was the print of his great hoofs in 

 the clay, and I examined it with no little interest. 

 There are but few of these animals left, and they are 

 infinitely shy and cautious. They seek the deepest 

 recesses of the woods, the darkest shadows of the 

 swamp, for their hiding-places, and with an eye that 

 never sleeps, and an ear open to the softest whisper of 

 danger, they hold their ceaseless vigils. They have 



