178 Hills and Lakes. 



Woods. It is wonderful, too, liow fresli lie will feel in 

 the morning, as his eyes open with the break of dawn. 

 He feels that he has slept enough, and that his weari- 

 ness is all gone. He feels no lassitude, no desire of 

 the sluggard for ''a little more sleep, a little more 

 slumber." He starts from his green boughs, gapes, 

 stretches himself, and is wide awake, and fresh 

 as the balmy air of the morning. He plunges 

 into the lake for a refreshing and cleansing bath, 

 his muscles are strung for action, his nerves all 

 quiet, and 



** Ricliard is himself again." 



We were startled, in the gray twilight of the morn- 

 ing, by a distant roaring ; not like a waterfall, or far- 

 off thunder, but partaking of both. We heard it 

 several times, at short intervals, and were unable to 

 account for the sound, until, as the light grew more 

 distinct, we saw vast flocks of wild pigeons, winging 

 their way in different directions across the lake, but 

 all appearing to have a common starting-point in the 

 forest, a mile or more down the lake. 



" I understand it all now," said my guide ; " there's 

 a pigeon roost down there, and, Squire, if you've 



