VISIT TO ST. FRANCIS. 71 
whence the sound proceeds, intent on repelling the intruder. 
Listening to the repeated calls, again and again the bull an- 
swers, till at length he is drawn within the range of the 
rifle of the secreted hunter. My maiden effort at moose- 
shooting was made in such a manner. As if it were but 
yesterday, the whole adventure is written plainly on my 
memory. I had only been in America a few months. The 
attractions of Saratoga I could not avoid, and when there 
became acquainted with a family of St. Francis Indians, 
earning a precarious subsistence by basket-making. Before 
this I had never met any of the aborigines of the American 
continent, and hour after hour I passed idling around their 
encampment, listening to stories of the chase, and more es- 
pecially of moose-hunting. The dark-skinned race got my 
spare pocket-money, and J, in return, all their knowledge of 
wood-craft that could be theoretically imparted. The spirit 
of adventure had become excited within me, and ere I left 
Saratoga I had faithfully promised to visit St. Francis in 
autumn, to join one of my new acquaintances in a moose- 
hunt. 
The beautiful tints of an American fall were in their 
greatest brilliancy when I reached the termination of a long 
and tedious journey to accept the proffered hospitalities. 
My reception was not so enthusiastic as I expected ; in fact, 
my ardor was a little damped by the marked coolness of 
my host. Yet, after coming’ such a distance, I was deter- 
mined to carry out my project, and a well-stocked purse en- 
abled me to do so. Starting at early morning, on a beauti- 
ful, clear day, we descended a tributary stream of the Pe- 
nobscot River, for eight or ten hours. The easy motion of 
the birch-bark, the grand scenery, and the brilliant-colored 
foliage recalled many a vision I had formed of what fairy- 
land must resemble. About four o’clock we disembarked, 
our birch-bark was shouldered, and a portage of a mile or ° 
