s shoulder.

Arrived on the hunting-ground, as soon as the ice has broken up he
follows the creeks and streams, keeping a lookout for the signs of
beavers. As soon as he discovers one, he sets his trap, secured to a
chain fastened to a stake or tree, baiting it with the tempting
castoreum. He is ever on the watch for the neighbourhood of Indians,
who try to outwit him, though generally in vain, to steal his traps and
beavers. His eye surveys the surrounding country, and instantly detects
any sign of his foes. A leaf turned down, the slightly pressed grass,
the uneasiness of the wild animals, the flight of birds, all tell him
that other human beings are in the neighbourhood. Sometimes, after he
has set his traps and is returning to his camp, the wily Indian who has
been watching follows, and a home-drawn arrow, shot within a few feet,
never fails to bring the hapless victim to the ground. For one white
scalp, however, that dangles in the smoke of an Indian's lodge, a dozen
black ones surround the camp-fires of the trappers' rendezvous. Here,
after the hunt, from all quarters the hardy trappers bring in their
packs of beaver to meet the purchasers, sometimes to the value of a
thousand dollars each. The traders sell their goods at enormous
profits; and the thoughtless trapper, indulging in the fire-water from
which he has long abstained, is too often induced to gamble away the
gold for which he has risked life and gone through so many hardships.
When all is gone, he gets credit for another equipment, and sets off
alone, often to return and repeat the same process, although the profits
of one or two successful hunts would enable him to stock a farm and live
among civilised men.

Wonders of Nature.--Mammoth Cave of Kentucky.

There are many other wonders of Nature in different parts of North
America well worthy of more notice than we can give them. The most
remarkable, perhaps, is the Mammoth Cave of Kentucky. The entrance to
it is situated near Green River, midway between Louisville and
Nashville.

A lonely road leads to the entrance, from which, as we approach it in
summer, we find a peculiarly chilly air issue forth. The sombre gloom
of the entrance does not prepare us for the enormous hall within; long
avenues leading into vast chambers, the smaller, thirty feet in height,
at least, with an area of half an acre, and, as we get lower and lower,
increasing in height. Upwards of eighteen miles of the cavern