ods of New Brunswick, I fancied wild animals
would meet me at each step--every black log was transformed into some
shaggy monster--visions of bears and lucifee's were ever before me--but
these are now but rarely seen near the settlements, although bruin will
sometimes make a descent on the sheepfolds; yet they have generally
retreated before the axe, along with the more valuable moose deer and
caraboo, with which the country used to abound. The ugliest animal I
ever saw was a huge porcupine, which came close to the door and carried
off, one by one, a whole flock of young turkies; and the boldest, the
beautiful foxes, which are also extremely destructive to the poultry; so
that in walking the woods one need not be afraid, even if a bear's
foot-print be indented in the soil, as perhaps he is then far enough
off, and besides 'tis only in the hungry spring, after his winter's
sleep, he is carniverous, preferring in summer the roots, nuts, and
berries with which the forest supplies him. The living things one sees
are quite harmless--the bright eyed racoon looking down upon us through
the branches, or the squirrels hopping from spray to spray, a mink or an
otter splashing through the pond of a deserted beaver dam, from which
the ancient possessors have also retired, and a hare or sable gliding in
the distance, are all the animals one usually sees, with flocks of
partridges, so tame that they stir not from you, and there being no game
laws, these free denizens of the wild are the property of all who choose
to claim them.

The forests, especially in the hard wood districts, are beautiful in
their fresh unbroken solitude--not the solitude of desolation, but the
young wild loveliness of the untamed earth. The trees stand close and
thick, with straight pillar-like stems, unbroken by leaf or bough, which
all expand to the summit, as if for breathing space. There is little
brush wood, but myriads of plants and creepers, springing with the
summer's breath. The beautiful dog-wood's sweeping sprays and broad
leaves, the maiden-hairs glossy wreathes and pearly buds, and the soft
emerald moss, clothing the old fallen trees with its velvet tapestry,
and hiding their decay with its cool rich beauty, while the sun light
falls in golden tracery down the birch trees silver trunk, and the
sparkling water flashes in the rays, or sings on its sweet melody unseen
amid the luxuriant vegetation that conceals it.

Through this sweet path we held on