he
soul. Flocks of snow-white gulls sail in graceful evolutions round the
boats, dipping lightly in the water as if to kiss their reflected
images; and, rising suddenly in long rapid flights, mount in circles up
high above the tranquil world into the azure sky, till small white
specks alone are visible in the distance. Up, up they rise on sportive
wing, till the straining eye can no longer distinguish them, and they
are gone! Ducks, too, whir past in rapid flight, steering wide of the
boats, and again bending in long graceful curves into their course. The
sweet, plaintive cry of the whip-poor-will rings along the shore; and
the faint answer of his mate floats over the lake, mellowed by distance
to a long tiny note. The air is motionless as the water; and the
enraptured eye gazes in dreamy enjoyment on all that is lovely and
peaceful in nature.

These are the _pleasures_ of travelling in the wilderness. Let us
change the picture.

The sun no longer shines upon the tranquil scene. Dark, heavy clouds
obscure the sky; a suffocating heat depresses the spirits and enervates
the frame; sharp, short gusts of wind now ruffle the inky waters, and
the floating islands sink into insignificance as the deceptive haze
which elevated them flies before the approaching storm. The ducks are
gone, and the plaintive notes of the whip-poor-will are hushed as the
increasing breeze rustles the leafy drapery of the forest. The gulls
wheel round still, but in more rapid and uncertain flight, accompanying
their motions with shrill and mournful cries, like the dismal wailings
of the spirit of the storm. A few drops of rain patter on the boats, or
plump like stones into the water, and the distant melancholy growl of
thunder swells upon the coming gale. Uneasy glances are cast, ever and
anon, towards clouds and shore, and grumbling sentences are uttered by
the men. Suddenly a hissing sound is heard, a loud clap of thunder
growls overhead, and the gale, dashing the white spray wildly before it,
rushes down upon the boats.

"_A terre! a terre_!" shout the men. The boats are turned towards the
shore, and the bending oars creak and groan as they pull swiftly on.
Hiss! whir! the gale bursts forth, dashing clouds of spray into the air,
twisting and curling the foaming water in its fury. The thunder crashes
with fearful noise, and the lightning gleams in fitful lurid streaks
across the inky sky. Presently the shore is gained, amid a delug