y, and the
winter wren, the first I had ever heard in these woods, set his
music-box going, which fairly ran over with fin, gushing, lyrical
sounds. There can be no doubt but this bird is one of our finest
songsters. If it would only thrive and sing well when caged, like the
canary, how far it would surpass that bird! It has all the vivacity
and versatility of the canary, without any of its shrillness. Its song
is indeed a little cascade of melody.

We again retraced our steps, rolling the stone, as it were, back up
the mountain, determined to commit ourselves to the line of marked
trees. These we finally reached, and, after exploring the country to
the right, saw that bearing to the left was still the order. The trail
led up over a gentle rise of ground, and in less than twenty minutes,
we were in the woods I had passed through when I found the lake. The
error I had made was then plain: we had come off the mountain a few
paces too far to the right, and so had passed down on the wrong side
of the ridge, into what we afterwards learned was the valley of Alder
Creek.

We now made good time, and before many minutes I again saw the mimic
sky glance through the trees. As we approached the lake, a solitary
woodchuck, the first wild animal we had seen since entering the woods,
sat crouched upon the root of a tree a few feet from the water,
apparently completely nonplused by the unexpected appearance of danger
on the land side. All retreat was cut off, and he looked his fate in
the face without flinching. I slaughtered him just as a savage would
have done, and from the same motive,--I wanted his carcass to eat.

The mid-afternoon sun was now shining upon the lake, and a low, steady
breeze drove the little waves rocking to the shore. A herd of cattle
were browsing on the other side, and the bell of the leader sounded
across the water. In these solitudes its clang was wild and musical.

To try the trout was the first thing in order. On a rude raft of log
which we found moored at the shore, and which with two aboard shipped
about a food of water, we floated out and wet our first fly in
Thomas's Lake; but the trout refused to jump, and to be frank, not
more than a dozen and a half were caught during our stay. Only a week
previous, a party of three had taken in a few hours all the fish they
could carry out of the woods, and had nearly surfeited their neighbors
with trout. But from some cause, they now refused to rise, or to touc