SALMON BAY. 87 



tic bumble-bee hums and buzzes in the flowers ; two 

 or three beetles crawl over the fern-leaves, while a few 

 meagre, lean-looking flies lead a sort of doubtful exist- 

 ence. There is none of that outburst and profusion of 

 insect-life that characterizes woodland life in the States 

 in midsummer. For the benefit of the entomologically 

 curious, I will state that nowhere on the coast, or inland, 

 at least within twenty miles of Salmon Bay, has a grass- 

 hopper been seen or heard of ! The common red-legged 

 grasshopper, that is so abundant everywhere with us all 

 the summer, which luxuriates on the summit of Mount 

 Washington, and is found by arctic travellers about Mel- 

 bourne Island, spread, in fact, all through British and 

 Arctic America, is here wanting, so scanty and parsimo- 

 nious is the distribution of insect-life on these shores. 

 But I must mention the wasp's nest I stumbled upon 

 one day, about as large as one of Heenan's fists, stuck 

 down under the moss, in a mass of roots. Well aware 

 of the notorious temper of these insects, and fully con- 

 scious of past sad experiences, I approached the dread 

 precincts, extended a six-foot pole, and gave a gentle 

 tap — no answer ; another — two individuals crawl out — a 

 simultaneous rush of the invader to the rear ; the " com- 

 bat deepens" — four more dabs with the six-footer — a 

 baker's dozen issue forth and fly around, alas ! how dolo- 

 rous and sad ! They give chase for a pace or two, and 

 then pause, look back irresolutely, and give it up. Such 

 was my experience with Labrador wasps. 



By this time we have topped the cliff, and far down 

 below lies Salmon Bay. Seven fishermen from New- 

 buryport find here one of the best harbors on the coast 

 — securely landlocked, and good anchorage in fifteen 



