THE MOOSE DEER. 57 
feat or ignominious glory. That is no sport for boys or 
striplings, but hard work for strong, stout-hearted men. 
But the science and the pluck of man prevails in the 
end; one by one the beasts are overhauled, the heaviest 
first and the weakest, a rifle-shot, and a shrill ‘who- 
whoop” announces the fall of the forest king—a slash 
of the keen knife steeps the snow with his life-blood, and 
away, away, over the crackling crust, with the keen win- 
ter’s wind warming itself against your face, and your 
heart thrilling with a rapture unknown to the laggard 
loungers of city sidewalks, unsuspected by the sordid 
and selfish voluptuary. 
Such, friends, is the winter Moose-hunt of the Cana- 
dian wilderness. Try it, friends, once, and my life on it, 
each succeeding winter will find you rifle in hand, and 
snow-shoe on foot, in the interminable forest northward 
of Quebec, stretching thence on unbroken to the Arctic 
seas—for verily it is the king of American field-sports. 
