breeze
stirring the lofty heads of the pine-trees, and wakening a hoarse and
mournful cadence. This, with the tapping of the red-headed and grey
woodpeckers on the trunk of the decaying trees, or the shrill whistling
cry of the little striped squirrel, called by the natives "chitmunk,"
was every sound that broke the stillness of the wild. Nor was I less
surprised at the absence of animal life. With the exception of the
aforesaid chitmunk, no living thing crossed our path during our long
day's journey in the woods.

In these vast solitudes one would naturally be led to imagine that the
absence of man would have allowed Nature's wild denizens to have
abounded free and unmolested; but the contrary seems to be the case.
Almost all wild animals are more abundant in the cleared districts than
in the bush. Man's industry supplies their wants at an easier rate than
seeking a scanty subsistence in the forest.

You hear continually of depredations committed by wolves, bears,
racoons, lynxes, and foxes, in the long-settled parts of the province.
In the backwoods the appearance of wild beasts is a matter of much rarer
occurrence.

I was disappointed in the forest trees, having pictured to myself hoary
giants almost primeval with the country itself, as greatly exceeding in
majesty of form the trees of my native isles, as the vast lakes and
mighty rivers of Canada exceed the locks and streams of Britain.

There is a want of picturesque beauty in the woods. The young growth of
timber alone has any pretension of elegance of form, unless I except the
hemlocks, which are extremely light and graceful, and of a lovely
refreshing tint of green. Even when winter has stripped the forest it is
still beautiful and verdant. The young beeches too are pretty enough,
but you miss that fantastic bowery shade that is so delightful in our
parks and woodlands at home.

There is no appearance of venerable antiquity in the Canadian woods.
There are no ancient spreading oaks that might be called the patriarchs
of the forest. A premature decay seems to be their doom. They are
uprooted by the storm, and sink in their first maturity, to give place
to a new generation that is ready to fill their places.

The pines are certainly the finest trees. In point of size there are
none to surpass them. They tower above all the others, forming a dark
line that may be distinguished for many miles. The pines being so much
loftier than the other trees, are sooner u