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SUMMER MUSINGS.

and with dogs and gun he scoured the Maine woods. It was from his birchbark canoe he eventually sighted his

"FISHERMAN'S LUCK."

first wild deer, but we are glad to state that "hunter's fright" assailed his nerves and the deer got away. When he meets his first wild bear face to face, our sympathies will be with the hunter.

Our camp was established upon the bank of a charming mountain stream, with enticing pools of an icy quality that made a dip of two minutes' duration seem quite long enough. The boating was fine in spots, and we were fortunate in having no "fool who rocks the boat", in our party. This summer season of joy and freedom in the outdoors! Why should it be saddened by the many unnecessary tragedies, in which the drowned are victims of their own foolhardiness, or of that of their wickedly thoughtless friends?

The birchbark canoe is a model of beauty, lightness and grace, and a source of infinite delight to those who handle it according to the laws of its being. In this case, as in all others, obedience to law means life; disobedience danger or death.

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started on our way at 5.30, so that when we arrived in camp, our first stopping place, some hours later, we were quite prepared to enjoy a part of "the great catch" of the early morning fishers who had preceded us by several days. The remainder of the fish were shipped to friends or home, as examples of "fishermen's luck", or skill. Surely the brain-power of some portion of the community must have been greatly increased by such a supply of fish food.

But the leader of the party announces that the wood supply is low, and so the merry group separates into twos and threes, forming a link with mediaeval life, as they become fagot-gatherers pro tem and learn what the weight of a fagot must be upon the backs of the aged, the sick, or the decrepit, as they carry them with some awkwardness upon their own vigorous, young shoulders. My turn has come, so I leave pen and paper to join the other firewood seekers, who, nevertheless, do not pursue their task so arduously, that they cannot take time to enjoy the fragrance of the pine trees, the straightness of

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We had arisen at 4.30 A. M. and "JOY AND FREEDOM IN THE OUTDOORS."

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The Tyranny of Things.-By Margaret E Sangster.

AH, the clutter and confusion! ah, the trouble and the toil!

Ah, the dread that household treasures moth and rust may wreck and spoil! How we spend our days in labor and consume our strength with care,

Over goods that in the using perish to our soul's despair!

How, at length, for all our planning, packed and crowded in the van,

Things we've hoarded, things we've cherished, do not fright the moving man.

Swift he hurries our possessions, fine and coarse, upon the road,
Mirrors, sofas, chairs and tables, dishes, carpets, on the load.

And we're tired with endeavor what to keep and what to lose,

Things we've loved and things we've hated, what a heartache when to choose!
Till, in May-time, we are tempted just to wish that wealth had wings-
Crushed and borne to earth and burdened, by the tyranny of things.

Once, perchance, man's life was simple, woman's work an easy round;
She but kept a hut in order, he but tilled the laughing ground.
Naught they recked of gems and money; little thought of vain display,
Wrought. or rested, slept or idled, lived like children at men's play,
When the race was poor and merry as the forest bird that sings,

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