2$6 



RECREATION. 



jure your complexion, and, besides, it is 

 almost night. But hark ! Something you 

 hear sounds like hoof beats ; maybe some 

 horseman is coming your way who will 

 kindly set your face in the right direction. 

 You listen. Surely it is a friend, but he 

 cannot help you ; the thumping of your 

 heart, that's all. It seems to say, "Lost, 

 lost, lost." Trees, nothing but trees, — hun- 

 dreds, thousands, millions, — and how like 

 sign-posts they look. They are sign-posts. 

 You can read them, front of you, back of 

 you, — and on all you read, "This way out, 

 this way out." 



It is nearly dark ; you quicken your pace. 

 Again you hear something. It is not that 

 pounding sound you heard before, only a 

 slight clicking. There seems to be life all 

 about you. Snow comes falling through the 

 branches, and, as it settles on the leaves with 

 that gentle click, you give a sigh of relief, 

 for at least you have company, you can make 

 tracks and see them. You remember that 

 a man lost in the woods steps farther with 

 one foot than the other, and walks in a 

 circle. After a few circles you will be able 

 to determine which foot makes the curve, 

 and, if you live to get out, Science will 

 doubtless reward yon. 



Just stand your gun against a tree, put 

 your hands in your pockets, kick your feet, 

 and wake up a little. You are lost in the 

 woods, and you may as well do what vou 

 can to make yourself comfortable. Just a 

 bit hungry, no doubt. Don't you wish you 

 had those pieces of bread and meat -"ou fed 

 to the moose birds at lunch time? No sun- 

 per for you to-night, that's sure, and you 

 are not likely to have a comfortable pl^ce 

 to sleep. Just think of that warm bunk at 

 the camp. About this time th: boys are 

 sitting down to a supner of broiled venison 

 and baked potatoes. You enn hear the rat- 

 tle of tin plates and smell the tempting- 

 good things. But that's imagination, and 



you are not at liberty to imagine. You are 

 dealing with facts now. Just attend to busi- 

 ness and try to find yourself. The best 

 thing you can do is to yell and yell loudly. 

 You may be surprised to find what a weak, 

 puny voice you have. Can hardly hear it 

 yourself. Better fire your rifle, if you are 

 not afraid it will frighten you. 



You are lost ; it is nearly dark. You do 

 not want to lose your head, for that means 

 you may lose your life. Just find a shel- 

 tered spot under some tree, clear away the 

 snow, gather sticks and branches and make 

 a lean-to, if you know how. Strip off some 

 birch bark, collect what dry spruce and 

 cedar you will need, and build a fire. That 

 will make you as comfortable as you can 

 expect to be at such a time. Don't sleep 

 or even try to. Occupy your time keeping- 

 awake and warm. It may be a long night, 

 but morning always comes, and it will to- 

 morrow. 



Midnight, and you were nearly asleep. 

 What a ,long night, and what sounds 

 you hear all about you. That's only 

 the nightmare crashing through the bushes, 

 and that friendly owl merely wants to 

 know who — who you are. Your head 

 drops a little lower on the green branches 

 about you. The fire has gone out, the cold 

 is intense, the snow is still falling, you are 

 cold and lost ; but you do not mind that — 

 you are fast asleep. How the good and bad 

 deeds that you have done take form, and 

 parade before you. Who are all those lit- 

 tle fellows trying to get away from the 

 crowd? Oh, those are the good deeds. 

 And the crowd? Well, — no matter about 

 them. Thump, thump, thump. Your eyes 

 open, you start. There is a glimmer of 

 light through the crevassed logs. You look 

 about. You feel around. You are in your 

 bunk, and you hear some one say "Get up, 

 it's 5 o'clock, breakfast nearly ready, and 

 you know we were to start at 5.30." 



"Mr. Scrapem," said the hostess to an 

 amateur violinist at an evening gathering, 

 *you play the violin, do you not?" 



"Yes, after a fashion, you know," was the 

 modest reply. 



"How nice !" murmured half the com- 

 pany. 



"Did you bring your violin with you?" 



|'No, I did not." 



"How nice !" murmured the other half 

 of the company in fervent unison. — Galves- 

 ton News. 



