232. LIFE OF AUDUBON. 



guns,' in suitable places to procure some of the bears that eyer 

 prowl around such establishments. Now the heavy clouds of 

 November, driven by the northern blast, pour down the snow 

 in feathery ilakes. The winter has fairly set in, and seldom do 

 the sun's gladdening rays fall on the woodcutter's hut. In warm 

 flannels his body is enveloped, the skin of a racoon covers his 

 head and brow, his moose-skin leggings reach the girdle that 

 secures them round his waist, while on broad mocassins, or 

 snow-shoes, he stands from the earliest dawn till night hacking 

 away at the majestic pines that for a century past have em- 

 bellished the forest. The fall of these valuable trees no longer 

 resounds on the ground ; and as they tumble here and there, 

 nothing is heard but the rustling and crackling of their branches, 

 their heavy trunks sinking into the deep snow. Thousands of 

 large pines thus cut down every winter afford room for the 

 younger trees, which spring up profusely to supply the wants 

 of man. Weeks and weeks have elapsed, the earth's pure 

 white covering has become thickly and firmly crusted by the 

 increasing intensity of the cold, the fallen trees have all been 

 sawn into measured logs, and the long repose of the oxen has 

 fitted them for hauling them to the nearest frozen stream. The 

 ice gradually becomes covered with the accumulating mass of 

 timber, and, their task completed, the lumberers wait impatiently 

 for the breaking up of winter. At this period they pass the 

 time in hunting the moose, the deer, and the bear, for the 

 benefit of their wives and children ; and as these men are most 

 excellent woodsmen, great havoc is made among the game j 

 many skins, sables, martins, and musk rats, they have procured 

 during the intervals of their labour, or under night. The snows 

 are now giving way as the rains descend in torrents, and the 

 lumberers collect their utensils, harness their cattle, and prepare 

 for their return. This they accomplish in safety. From being 

 lumberers, they become millers, and with pleasure each applies 

 the grating file to his saws. Many logs have already reached 

 the dams on the swollen waters of the rushing streams, and the 

 task commences, which is carried on through the summer, of 

 cutting them up into boards. The great heat of the dog-days 

 has parched the ground; every creek has become a shallow, 

 except here and there where, in a deep hole, the salmon and 



