with satisfaction. This would be next to living like a philosopher on the
fruits of the earth which you had raised, which also attracts me. But this
hunting of the moose merely for the satisfaction of killing him,--not even
for the sake of his hide,--without making any extraordinary exertion or
running any risk yourself, is too much like going out by night to some
wood-side pasture and shooting your neighbor's horses. These are God's own
horses, poor, timid creatures, that will run fast enough as soon as they
smell you, though they _are_ nine feet high. Joe told us of some hunters
who a year or two before had shot down several oxen by night, somewhere in
the Maine woods, mistaking them for moose. And so might any of the
hunters; and what is the difference in the sport, but the name? In the
former case, having killed one of God's and _your own_ oxen, you strip off
its hide,--because that is the common trophy, and, moreover, you have
heard that it may be sold for moccasins,--cut a steak from its haunches,
and leave the huge carcass to smell to heaven for you. It is no better, at
least, than to assist at a slaughter-house.

This afternoon's experience suggested to me how base or coarse are the
motives which commonly carry men into the wilderness. The explorers and
lumberers generally are all hirelings, paid so much a day for their labor,
and as such they have no more love for wild nature than wood-sawyers have
for forests. Other white men and Indians who come here are for the most
part hunters, whose object is to slay as many moose and other wild animals
as possible. But, pray, could not one spend some weeks or years in the
solitude of this vast wilderness with other employments than these,--
employments perfectly sweet and innocent and ennobling? For one that comes
with a pencil to sketch or sing, a thousand come with an axe or rifle.
What a coarse and imperfect use Indians and hunters make of Nature! No
wonder that their race is so soon exterminated. I already, and for weeks
afterward, felt my nature the coarser for this part of my woodland
experience, and was reminded that our life should be lived as tenderly and
daintily as one would pluck a flower.

With these thoughts, when we reached our camping-ground, I decided to
leave my companions to continue moose-hunting down the stream, while I
prepared the camp, though they requested me not to chop much nor make a
large fire, for fear I should scare their game. In the midst