d of the deep silence pervading the forest.
This impression is doubtless occasioned by the utter dissimilarity
between the voices one hears in the day, from those which fall upon
the ear in the night time. The former are all joyous and happy, full
of gladness and merriment, full of life and animation; the latter
solemn, deep, profound, lulling to the senses; not sorrowful nor sad,
yet still such as form a calm and quiet lullaby, under the influence
of which one glides away into slumber, and sleeps quietly until dawn.
Then the voice of gladness breaks so tumultuously on the ear, that he
must be a sluggard indeed who can resist their wakening influences.
How beautifully the sun went down behind the hills, lighting up the
western sky, and the fleecy clouds floating in the heavens with a
blaze of glory, throwing a mantle of silver over the tall ranges and
mountain peaks that loomed up in solemn grandeur away in the east; and
how stilly, silently the stars came out from the depths above, and how
brightly and truthfully they were given back from away down in depths
beneath the placid waters. We had taken half a dozen beautiful trout
from the foot of the falls where the current shoots out into the lake.
We had eaten them too, and were sitting in front of our tents smoking
our evening pipes.

"Spalding," said the Doctor, "How I wish our little boys were out here
with us. How they would enjoy themselves among these lakes and rivers.
It is a hard lot that the children of our cities have in life. They
struggle up to man and womanhood against fearful odds, and the wonder
is, that they do not perish in their infancy; that they are not
blasted, as the blossoms are, when the cold east wind sweeps over
the earth."

"You are right, my friend," replied Spalding. "I should like to have
our little boys, and girls too, for that matter, with us for a few
days out here on these lakes. It would be a lifetime to them,
measuring time by the enjoyment it would afford them. Still their city
habits might make them tire of this freedom in a week. You and I enjoy
it longer, because it brings back old memories and relieves us from
the toils of business and the restraints of conventional life. You
are right too in saying that the lot of our city children is a hard
one. To live imprisoned between long rows of brick walls, breathing an
atmosphere charged with the exhalations of ten thousand cooking
stoves, the dust of forges and the smoke of furnaces,