ANAS BOSCHAS. 219 



Next morning we started soon after sunrise, but 

 ere we had proceeded a quarter of a mile I learned 

 with the greatest regret that the noble birch, under 

 which we had slept, had been set on fire. My friend, 

 untroubled by sentimental considerations, had scraped 

 the embers remaining from our fire against the trunk 

 of the tree that had afforded us temporary shelter, 

 and which gave permanent beauty to the landscape. 

 The consequence was that its pendulous and highly 

 inflammable bark was now in a blaze. If the tree 

 was not killed, it must have been injured for years, 

 and its charred body and limbs would ever after- 

 wards remain a silent witness of the treatment it had 

 received. Knowing remonstrance to be useless, I 

 chewed the cud of bitterness and said nothing. 



Around the southern margin of the lake, which we 

 selected for our route as offering the more suitable 

 course for continuing our journey, we passed through 

 great quantities of aquatic weeds. Wild-duck flushed 

 on every side, the old familiar mallard (Anas boschas) 

 being by far the most numerous. From our constant 

 association with these fowl, they being the progeni- 

 tors of our common domestic duck, they usually 

 attract little attention from any but the sportsman. 

 This is scarcely fair, for the drake is as handsome 

 as his race have proved useful. The Eastern and 

 Western hemispheres are alike this noble bird's home, 

 for it is found from the paddy-fields of China to the 

 prairie-margined sloughs of the Far West. While 

 the stamp of serfdom is on the domestic race, the wild 



