CAMPING OUT. 289 



lullaby when camped in the woods ; one's somniferous 

 tendencies are greatly assisted by the curious chatterings 

 and tinklings of its little falls and rapids. As sleep draws 

 nigh, the multitudinous sounds in turn resemble, almost 

 to reality, those produced by far different causes — now it 

 is men talking in low tones close at hand ; then a distant 

 shout or despairing shriek ; and now the impression is 

 that a herd of cattle are crossing the brook, splashing the 

 water ; the deception being aided by the resemblance to 

 the sound of cattle-bells often made by the miniature 

 cascades. 



Such streams are sure to occur not far from one's camp 

 by the lake or river side. They come dancing down 

 from the lakes back in the woods to join the river, shaded 

 by dark firs and hemlocks, full of little falls, eddying 

 round great rocks, which stand out from the stream 

 capped with ferns and lichens, and at whose base are 

 little gravelly pools — the very counterpart in miniature 

 of some of our grander salmon rivers. Had Tennyson 

 ever seen an American forest brook when he wrote his 

 charming little idyll, " The Brook ? " I must insert one 

 verse : — 



" And here and there a foamy flake 

 Upon me, as I travel, 

 With many a silvery water-break 

 Above the golden gravel." 



To return, however, to the sober description of practical 

 experience. Never trust to finding a camp, of the exist- 

 ence of w^hich you may have heard, standing, and ready 

 for habitation ; and always allow plenty of daylight to 

 make a new one, in case the old is non est, or gone to 

 pieces. I remember one blazing hot summer's afternoon 

 going up the banks of Gold Eiver, Nova Scotia, to try 



