VISIT TO ST. FRANCIS. 57 



carious subsistence by basket-making. Before this I 

 had never met any of the aborigines of the American 

 continent, and hour after hour I passed idling around 

 their encampment, listening to stories of the chase, 

 and more especially of moose-hunting. The dark- 

 skinned race got my spare pocket-money, and I in 

 return all their knowledge of woodcraft that could be 

 theoretically imparted. The spirit of adventure had 

 become excited within me, and ere I left Saratoga I had 

 faithfully promised to visit St. Francis in autumn, to 

 join one of my new acquaintances in a moose-hunt. 



The beautiful tints of an American fall were in 

 their greatest brilliancy when I reached the termination 

 of a long and tedious journey to accept the proffered 

 hospitalities. My reception was not so enthusiastic as 

 I expected ; in fact, my ardour was a little damped by 

 the marked coolness of my host. Yet, after coming 

 such a distance, I was determined to carry out my 

 project, and a well-stocked purse enabled me to do so. 

 Starting at early morning, on a beautiful clear day, 

 we descended a tributary stream of the Penobscot 

 river, for eight or ten hours. The easy motion of the 

 birch bark, the grand scenery and the brilliant coloured 

 foliage recalled many a vision I had formed of what 

 fairyland must resemble. About four o'clock we dis- 

 embarked, our birch bark was shouldered, and a 

 portage of a mile or two traversed, when the margin 

 of a clear, calm lake was reached, surrounded with 

 beautiful green hills. Again we launched our canoe 

 on the bosom of the waters, arriving at a second 

 halting-place as the sun in glorious splendour dipped 

 the western horizon. Hiding our frail birch-bark 

 craft in some brush, with my attendant leading, we 



