166 HILLS AKD LAKES, 



woods, with his axe on one shoulder, and his rifle on 

 the other, and falls to choppin' down the great trees. 

 Presently there's a spot in the forest that the sun 

 shines down on, bright and clear. The logs and brush 

 are burnt up, and a field of grain waves in the summer 

 winds. After a little, you'll see a log-house, and a 

 woman sittin' on the door-sill, with a brood of hardy, 

 tough little ones, tumblin' about her. You'll hear the 

 blows of an axe, as the settler battles with the tall 

 forest trees, and you'll hear them through the day, 

 crashin' and thunderin' to the ground. You'll hear 

 the bark of a house dog, the cacklin' of fowls, and 

 the quackin' of ducks and geese. You'll hear the 

 ding-dong of a cowbell in the woods, and the tinklin' 

 of a sheepbell along the fences. These are new sounds 

 in the forest, and the old woods may know by them, 

 that their time is come. Away off, may be miles 

 away, another hardy settler puts up his cabin, and 

 makes war on the ancient forest trees. Year after 

 year, the woods are crowded back by the fences, till 

 settlement meets settlement, and the old primeval 

 things have passed away. Painted houses have suc- 

 ceeded the log cabins; flocks and herds, feeding in 

 rich pastures, are everywhere seen, the sound of the 



