28 THE WILDERNESS AND JUNGLE 



crazy dug-out, camping each night beside some 

 likely salmon pool, bathing, fishing, dozing, as 

 I watched the wild creatures of an evening, 

 living in unconditional surrender to the irre- 

 sistible spell of the wilderness. That was the 

 forest primeval that Longfellow sings of in 

 " Evangeline, " and through it ran the turbulent 

 river, singing loudly as it wound along to the 

 Gulf of St. Lawrence, babbling of the voyageurs 

 and the coureurs des bois who are gone. Fir 

 and larch and spruce and pine, with patches of 

 hardwoods between, shot up tall, straight, and 

 slender along both banks, and modest wild 

 flowers made the clearings gay with colour. 

 It is true that few of the trees showed great 

 stature, for forest fires have taken heavy toll of 

 the Lower Provinces, and most of the timber 

 now standing is second growth, yet the peace 

 of the Canadian wilderness is white magic. 

 Its stillness deafens ears accustomed to the 

 roar of traffic. As I lay down at night on the 

 aromatic bed of fir-boughs piled by the guide, 

 and lazily blinked at the last dying embers of 

 the camp fire, the still darkness seemed to 

 reverberate with sound, and it was not until 

 after some interruption in the shape of a clumsy 

 porcupine nosing among the stores, or a 

 startled deer dashing through the clearing, that 

 the silence made itself felt. The most en- 

 trancing waterways in the backwoods are the 



