LOGGERS ' AT WORK FELLING A HEMLOCK. 



XXV 



IN THE LUMBER WOODS 



THE traveller among Nova Scotian backwoods settlements, 

 with an observant eye for fresh ' types ' of humanity, is 

 sure to have his attention arrested by little knots of men with 

 weather-roughened features who gather about the front steps 

 of village stores, the doors of the hotels, and the clandestine bar- 

 rooms, masquerading as eating saloons. These men are not 

 farmers ; they are not hunters or trappers ; nor are they village 

 loafers ; their athletic appearance, their bright blue and scarlet 

 blouses, their neat leggings laced with tasselled cords, their jaunty 

 hats proclaim them to be a class apart. 



They are ' loggers ' or ' lumberers ', men not quite of the forest 

 nor quite of the farm. Their summers are occupied by the rude 



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