36 



NOTES OF THE HUNT. 



any more." But Leeds, it should have been said, had 

 written a letter full of regrets, humorous or otherwise, 

 and this had been read to us some days before. Mem- 

 oranda in the note book this week remarked that the 

 leaves were growing darker day by day, and on the 9th 

 it is noted : ♦♦ the frost has perceptibly thinned the for- 

 est leaves." 



Surely James Russell Lowell has seen our Camp in 

 one of his flights of imagination. Stay and listen to 

 proof of his delicate insight. Here is a veritable pic- 

 ture of Muskoka ; anticipated by some quarter of a 



century : — 



** Or up the slippery knob I strain * 



An' see a hunderd hills like islan's 

 Lift their blue woods in broken chain 

 Out o' the sea o' snowy silence." 



What wonder that we love those New England 

 poets! aye and all New Englanders, especially those of 

 1884. The strange cackling of a flock of wild geese fly- 

 ing southward, was heard in the darkness, one night, 

 far up in the sky, a premonition of winter. What was 

 it Hosea Bigelow said ? 



" The wedged wild geese their bugles blow, 

 Further and further south retreatin.' 

 Snow flakes come whisp'rin' on the pane * 



The charm makes blazin' logs so pleasant, 

 Under the yaller pines I house, 

 When sunshine makes 'em all sweet scented, 

 An" hear, among their furry boughs 

 ^ The baskin' west- wind purr contented. 



f! 



