GREAT PINE SWAMP. 67 



the streams Ah, reader, if you are an angler, go there, 

 and try for yourself. For my part, I can only say, that 

 I have been made weary with pulling up from the rivulets 

 the sparkling fish, allured by the struggles of the com- 

 mon grasshopper. 



A comical affair happened with the bears, which I will 

 relate. A party of my friend Irish's raftsmen, returning 

 from Mauch Chunk, one afternoon, through sundry short 

 cuts over the mountains, at the season when the huckle- 

 berries are ripe and plentiful, were suddenly apprised of 

 the proximity of some of these animals, by their snuffing 

 the air. No sooner was this perceived than, to the as- 

 tonishment of the party, not fewer than eight bears, I 

 was told, made their appearance. Each man, being pro- 

 vided with his short-handled axe, faced about and wil- 

 lingly came to the scratch ; but the assailed soon proved 

 the assailants, and with claw and tooth drove off the men 

 in a twinkling. Down they all rushed from the moun- 

 tain ; the noise spread quickly ; rifles were soon procured 

 and shouldered ; but when the spot was reached, no bears 

 were to be found ; night forced the hunters back to their 

 homes, and a laugh concluded the affair. 



I spent six weeks in the Great Pine Forest Swamp 

 it cannot be called where I made many a drawing. 

 Wishing to leave Pennsylvania, and to follow the migra 

 tory flocks of our birds to tKe south, I bade adieu to the 

 excellent wife and rosy children of my friend, and to his 

 kind nephew. Jediah Irish, shouldering his heavy rifle, 

 accompanied me, and trudging directly across the moun- 

 tains, we arrived at Mauch Chunk, in good time for 



