999 Fisuing my Amertcan WATERS. 
there were none on the land; though, to speak candidly, the 
hills were sometimes so low along the river, and the sun and 
shade so captivating, that it appeared as if we might find or- 
chards and gardens over the first small hill, and I often asked 
my friend to run over and bring us some fruits and melons, 
but he reluctantly declined, for fear of encountering Mrs. 
Bruin and her anxious family. But with stout hearts, and 
the brawny arms of our guides, we soon reached our tenting- 
ground, 
SECTION FOURTH. 
THE ENCAMPMENT. 
*Twixt the fir-tree skirted ranches, 
Where the Rattling Run doth shine, 
We erect our hut of branches, 
Roof of birch bark, wall of pine ; 
Floor it with the boughs of saplings, 
Fragrant, soft as couch of kings, 
Rioting in forest pleasures, 
And the sleep that labor brings. 
It was nearly noon when we arrived at our camping- 
ground, which is a level piece of bottom-land, covered with 
sand and cobble-stones, a mile long, by the river shore, and a 
quarter of a mile wide, the base formed by Rattling Run, a 
small river emptying into the St. John just below our tents. 
It was a very hot day—hot is the word for the middle of a 
clear, still day, from the 20th of June to the 20th of August, 
even in Labrador, where there is frost nearly every night. 
There was only one tent pitched; but the lady was superin- 
tending the erection of a log cabin, while the gentlemen were 
away up the river angling for salmon. The lady sent her 
servant—a “contraband” that followed the general from Ten- 
nessee—to inform them of our arrival. 
T noticed with pleasure that the general’s lady had not suf- 
fered much from the annoyance of flies. 
“Oh no,” she replied; “it’s perfectly charming here; one 
bit me on the eyelid before I knew what to apply for anti- 
dote, and it nearly closed it; but now, as soon as I am bitten, 
