XV 

 IN A LOG CAMP 



THE last chapter of this Chronicle of Sum- 

 mers in Maine dates from a Log Camp in 

 the heart of the far northern woods of the 

 Pine-Tree State. 



A log camp, with a famous guide for 

 host, a place apparently sacred to the pas- 

 times of men, seems a strange place for the 

 lover of birds and peace, but attractions 

 there were for her also deep woods, un- 

 eonventionality, almost sole possession, and 

 birds birds birds. Moreover, fishermen 

 are quiet folk and guns are barred by 

 law till after birds and bird-students are 

 gone. 



So it came about that one morning about 

 the middle of May I found myself on the 

 platform of a certain station, somewhat dis- 

 mayed, it must be confessed, by the fact that 

 the station and a tiny cottage beside it were 

 apparently the only buildings that relieved 



