338 ' PRAIRIE AND FOREST. : 
they are totally opposed to one another in habits of life, 
the one preferring the open, heather-covered mountain 
slopes—wild as a hawk, unless when engaged with family 
cares—the other, thoughtless and careless of danger, and 
never seen away from the densest retreats of the woods. 
So tame are the Canada grouse that, during my residence 
in Maine, I knew one of the hotel proprietor’s sons to catch 
an old cock-bird by slipping a noose attached tothe end 
of a stick over its head. But our promenade is near an 
end. The woods appear less dense as we advance, and 
soon the flag. that floats over the shanty which is to be our 
future dormitory appears in view, with the placid waters 
of Richardson Lake close by, while numerous irregular 
hills, all clothed with pine timber to the summit, form the 
background. 
Generally this beautiful lake is smooth as glass, without 
a ripple, excepting what may be caused by the break of 
fish, or sudden appearance or descent of the great Northern 
diver, whose wild, weird notes have not unfrequently star- 
tled the uninitiated, brought a cold shiver to their system, 
or vividly recalled stories of ghosts, sprites, panthers, and 
wild-cats. You are at last fairly in the wilds, miles from 
man’s habitation—if you except a couple of fishing shanties 
only occupied a few weeks yearly. You may strain your 
eyes up and down, no snow-white smiling cottage will greet 
your vision. This country is the same still as in the days 
when the red man knew no superior, and owned every inch 
of soil from the Atlantic to the Pacific, save it be that the 
cruel axe of the lumberman has culled out the choicest 
giant monarchs of the forest. But having done a pretty 
good day’s walking, we may as well lay up for an hour or 
so before making our début on’ the Androscoggin; more- 
over, the trout in the middle of the day do not rise so freely, 
and a couple of hours’ work in the evening, if the weather 
