94 THE PINE-TREE, OR 



to the enjoyment of a relishable supper was added a hearty laugh. 

 Uncle Nat's proposition passed into a by-word, and all, ever after, 

 were ready to do any thing, provided they could be "waited 

 upon." 



In the process of taking logs to the landing from the swamp, 

 the first thing in order is to select the tree. The direction in 

 which it is judged likely to fall is determined by circumstances. 

 First, the inclination of the tree as it stands ; and, second, the 

 direction and power of the wind. Sometimes this matter may 

 be governed, where the tree stands very erect, by under-cutting 

 one side more than the other ; to which an expedient is added, 

 when necessary, by falling one tree against another. Choppers 

 can, if skillful, lay a tree, in falling, with sufficient accuracy to 

 hit and drive a stake into the ground. "When, however, a tree 

 stands upon an abrupt hill-side, we are apt to get deceived. It 

 is thrilling business to bring those giant Pines down. The ground 

 trembles under the stroke, while the reverberating echo of its 

 fall, as it rings through mountains and valleys, may, on a still 

 morning, be heard six or eight miles. Before felling the Pine, 

 small trees are cut for bed-pieces, the Pine-tree falling across 

 them transversely, to prevent it from becoming too deeply im- 

 bedded in the snow. This also facilitates the barking and load- 

 ing operation. The proper place being selected, the trunk of 

 the tree is cut oft" while the " swampers" have been directing 

 their road to the spot. The " barkers" — like whalemen leaping 

 upon the back of their prize with their cutting spades — are at 

 once at work with their axes, hewing the bark from that portion 

 of the log which is to be drawn along on the snow, while the 

 other end is to rest upon the sled. The "teams" next approach 

 the scene of action, drawing after them a short sled, called a 

 " bob-sled ;" probably so named from the bobbing motion it has 

 while drawn over the rough ground. It would be an insult to 

 every New Englander's intelligence to attempt a description of 



