IN CANADIAN WOODS. 



Joseph W. Howe. 



We have a camp, 80 miles north of 

 the St. Lawrence river, on the 

 shore of a large lake in the 

 Canadian forest. It consists of a log 

 house, a bark shelter for guides, and a 

 bark kitchen. No road leads to it — it 

 is in the wilderness. 



On the 2 1 st of August, after three 

 days of travel over portages and lakes, 

 accompanied by six French Canadian 

 guides, laden with blankets and provi- 

 sions, our canoes touched lightly the 

 little landing in front of the cabin. 



Old Felice is the guardian. He made 

 the camp and the log-house, the beds, 

 the table and the chairs. He is a French- 

 man — a trapper, skillful in all manual 

 labor within the range of his experience; 

 a good cook, in the manner of forest 

 cookery ; wise in every kind of wood- 

 craft — a veritable growth of the forest. 

 His features are large and homely. His 

 speech is quaint and simple. He knows 

 the dim trails through the wilderness as 

 we know the familiar streets of the city 

 we live in. He traps the bear, the 



otter, the beaver and the mink ; he 

 hunts the caribou and the moose. When 

 we set foot in our camp, Felice becomes 

 a part of our life, together with all the 

 wild creatures that live in the woods. 



No visitor had been at the camp 

 since the season of 1893, and the deni- 

 zens of the forest had been undisturbed 

 by man. The camp clearings in these 

 wilds are frequented by flocks of cross- 

 bills. These birds are quite tame, and 

 seem to have no knowledge of the insin- 

 cerity of man. They appear suddenly 

 on the trees, and flutter down to the 

 ground to get the bits of food, which 

 are always scattered about a camp in 

 the woods. On our arrival, we found 

 them hopping in and out of the space 

 under the cabin, like wood mice. One 

 day I saw Felice, who must look and 

 seem to the birds to be a part of the 

 wild woods, carefully approach a crim- 

 son-tinted male cross-bill, and, stooping 

 slowly down, pick him up. He brought 

 the bird to me. It scarcely struggled, 

 but turned its little head and looked at 



THE CAMP. 



299 



