A STIFF BREEZE. 17* 



heavily, and Joe said another shower was coming. 

 In this, however, he was mistaken. 



After half an hour's tedious walking, I got a view 

 of the hill ; but alas ! the white tents that were wont 

 to greet our coming were not to be seen, not a 

 yard of canvas was visible. 



Joe's head was enveloped in birch-bark, and I 

 felt a bit ashamed to tell him the state of affairs ; 

 but, feeling the need of haste, I suggested that he 

 take a look. 



" Just as I expected : now I leave canoe here, 

 and we get there pretty quick." 



We were soon standing amid the wreck : every 

 thing was flat, gone by the board. 



Like the blossoming fruit, when summer is green, 

 Our tents on the hill-tops at sunrise were seen ; 

 Like the leaves of the forest, when autumn had blown, 

 That camp in the noontime dismantled was strown. 



And there lay the stove, with its door opened wide, 

 But through it there rolled not the breath of its pride. 

 And the smoke of its embers fell faint on the hill, 

 And the pipe but once puffed, and forever was still. 



And there stood the hostess, not caring a groat, 



With a pie in her hand, and the rain on her coat, 



As she said, with glad gesture, " The storm have I braved, 



The bedding's all dry, and the larder is saved." 



