DAYS WITH THE LAND-LOCKED SALMON. 101 



without saying." This shall be the last time they 

 are mentioned. For this night their performances 

 eclipsed all that had gone before. 



They are indeed the curse of June and July in 

 Canadian woods, which they render in places all but 

 uninhabitable. Better far the rattlesnakes in Arizona, 

 or the grizzly bears and scorpions in California and 

 Mexico. I had been almost devoured by mosquitoes 

 in Lapland, and was thoroughly armed with carefully 

 wired-out head nets and tar and lard ointment. But 

 the effect resembled that produced by Mrs. Parting- 

 ton upon the Atlantic Ocean, when she tried to keep 

 it back with her mop. Presently we came upon a 

 lumberman's old and ruined cabin, where some 

 dozens of swallows, sworn foes to the mosquitoes, 

 were darting and skimming to and fro, the ground 

 being clear of trees. This was evidently our best 

 chance for any peace or rest. 



Thy voice is on the rolling air, 

 I hear thee where the waters run ; 

 Thou fliest at the rising sun, 



And at the setting thou art there. 



Thy numbers then we may not guess, 



And tho' I seem in hand and eye 



To feel thy sting, oh painful fly, 

 I do not, therefore, hate thee less. 



My hate involves the hate before, 

 My hate is vaster passion now, 

 Though made by God and nature, thou, 



I do not therefore love thee more. 



I was proud to be able to record that angry cries of 



