ADIEU TO THE WOODS. 325 



tains, and his quavering notes die away like the voice 

 of a trumpet in the distance. The owl hoots solemnly 

 in the woods, and the frog croaks along the shore. 

 The air moans among the tall old pines, and the trout 

 splashes the water as he leaps in his gladness above 

 the surface. The fire flies flash their tiny torches, 

 and the stars look up from away down in the quiet 

 waters and down from the sky above you. If you 

 shout, a thousand voices echo back the sound. If 

 you sing, hundreds of voices prolong the song ; while 

 through all the night sounds, silence seems to be 

 struggling for dominion, and you say, while a hun- 

 dred' voices are heard at once, how still it is. 



The time to which I had limited my tramp in the 

 woods had already expired, and the next morning, 

 while the sun was just showing his great red face 

 through mist and haze over the summit of the eastern 

 hills, we bid adieu to thsfe beautiful lakes, the most 

 picturesque and charming in all this broad country, 

 and started for the nearest settlement towards the 

 Champlain. We struck for Franklin Falls, a little 

 hamlet, the one deepest in the forest in that direction, 

 on the Saranac river, eighteen or twenty miles dis- 

 tant. We reached it weary enough about three 



