bly, ma'am?" said Malachi; "has he not more
work to do, more things to look after, and more to care for with a farm,
than when he has nothing?"

"It's very true philosophy, after all," observed Mr Campbell; "happy is
the man who is content to be poor. If a man prefers to live entirely
upon flesh, as the hunters do, there is no reason why he should work
hard and till the ground to procure bread; when the wants are few, the
cares are few also; but still, even the savage must feel the necessity
of exertion when he has a wife and family."

"Yes, sir, to be sure he does, and he works hard in his own way to
procure their food; but trappers seldom have wives; they would be no use
to them in the woods, and they have no one to provide for but
themselves."

"It appears to me like a savage life, but a very independent one," said
Mrs Campbell, "and I presume it is the independence which gives it such
charms."

"That's it, depend upon it, ma'am," replied Martin.

"But what do you do all the summer-time, Malachi?"

"Why, ma'am, we take to our rifles then, there are the deer, and the
lynx, and the wild cats, and squirrels, and the bear, and many other
animals to look after, and then some times we go bee-hunting for the
honey."

"Pray tell us how you take the honey, Malachi."

"Why, ma'am, the bees always live in the hollows of the old trees, and
it's very difficult in a forest to find them out, for the hole which
they enter by is very small and very high up sometimes; however, when we
get a lead, we generally manage it."

"Tell us what you mean, Malachi."

"We catch the bees as they settle upon the flowers to obtain honey, and
then we let them go again. The bee, as soon as it is allowed to escape,
flies straight towards its hive; we watch it till we can no longer see
it, and walk in that direction and catch another, and so we go on till
we see them settle upon a tree, and then we know that the hive and honey
must be in that tree, so we cut it down."

"How very clever," said Percival.

"It requires a sharp eye, though," said Martin, "to watch the bee far;
some of the trappers catch the bees and give them sugar mixed with
whisky. This makes the bee tipsy, and he cannot fly so fast, and then
they discover the hive much sooner, as they can run almost as fast as
the bee flies."

"That's capital," cried Percival; "but tell me, Martin, how do you kill
the bears?"

"Why, Master Percival, with our rifles, to be sure; the