axe of the settler. On the
contrary, the beechen woods often remain untouched, while others fall
around them--partly because these trees are not usually the indices of
the richest soil, but more from the fact that clearing a piece of beech
forest is no easy matter. The green logs do not burn so readily as
those of the oak, the elm, the maple, or poplar, and hence the necessity
of "rolling" them off the ground to be cleared--a serious thing where
labour is scarce and dear.

We were riding silently along, when all at once our ears were assailed
by a strange noise. It resembled the clapping of a thousand pairs of
hands, followed by a whistling sound, as if a strong wind had set
suddenly in among the trees. We all knew well enough what it meant, and
the simultaneous cry of "pigeons," was followed by half a dozen
simultaneous cracks from the guns of the party, and several bluish birds
fell to the ground. We had stumbled upon a feeding-place of the
passenger-pigeon (_Columba migratoria_).

Our route was immediately abandoned, and in a few minutes we were in the
thick of the flock, cracking away at them both with shot-gun and rifle.
It was not so easy, however, to bring them down in any considerable
numbers. In following them up we soon strayed from each other, until
our party was completely scattered, and nearly two hours elapsed before
we got back to the road. Our game-bag, however, made a fine show, and
about forty brace were deposited in the waggon. With the anticipation
of roast pigeon and "pot-pie," we rode on more cheerily to our
night-camp. All along the route the pigeons were seen, and occasionally
large flocks whirled over our heads under the canopy of the trees.
Satiated with the sport, and not caring to waste our ammunition, we did
not heed them farther.

In order to give Lanty due time for the duties of the _cuisine_, we
halted a little earlier than usual. Our day's march had been a short
one, but the excitement and sport of the pigeon-hunt repaid us for the
loss of time. Our dinner-supper--for it was a combination of both--was
the dish known in America as "pot-pie," in which the principal
ingredients were the pigeons, some soft flour paste, with a few slices
of bacon to give it a flavour. Properly speaking, the "pot-pie" is not
a pie, but a stew. Ours was excellent, and as our appetites wore in a
similar condition, a goodly quantity was used up in appeasing them.

Of course the conversation of th