FOREST LIFE. 73 



been consumed with the camp. I recollect an instance in which 

 a camp, on one of the tributaries of the Penobscot, took fire during 

 the night while the inmates were asleep, and three out of four 

 men were burned to death. In view of this liability, the roof of 

 our camps are not so strongly fastened down but that, in the 

 event of a retreat being cut off from the door, the united efforts 

 of the inmates can burst it up, and thus make their escape. 

 These things, however serious in some instances, are but little 

 thought of or cared for. 



Around this good camp-fire, 



" With mirth to lighten duty," 

 gather the crew after the toils of the day, to enjoy, as best they 

 may, our long winter evenings ; and around no fireside where 

 there are equal responsibilities, intelligence, and many more lux- 

 uries, can be found more real contentment, or a greater degree 

 of enjoyment. 



Here rises the voice of song upon the wings of the winter 

 night storm as it rolls past with the sublimity of an Alpine tem- 

 pest. Here, also, are rehearsals of wild adventure, listened to 

 with all the interest which isolated circumstances usually lend 

 even to little matters. 



The first night we lodged in one of our newly-erected camps, 

 its dedication was proposed. It was moved and carried by ac- 

 clamation that Hobbs should sing us a song, and that "Nick" 

 should give us one of his yarns. 



Hobbs, who, by-the-way, was a short, thick-set little fellow, 

 with a chubby red face, and, withal, rather musical in his turn, 

 gave vent to the following beautiful song, dedicated to the " Lum- 

 bermen" by the poet Whittier. 



" Comrades ! round our woodland quarters 

 Sad-voiced autumn grieves ; 

 Thickly down these swelling watera 

 Float his fallen leaves. 

 D 



