. Rod and gun . h itsveins. But I expect not, or it wouldnot have been caught in such a man-made thing as a trap. A CANADIAN SNOW-SHOE SONG. BY DOROTHY PATRICK DYAR. There is a charm in the winter woods, when all lies gray and still;And there is joy in the winter woods, when winds blow keen and chill;Within, my heart burns warm and bright, without, dark storm-clouds gather;But North wind bold, I fear you not—theres wine in your frosty weather. Crunch, crunch! oer the crispy snow, blood a-tingle and cheeks a-glow;Through the ranks of pine that guard the gulch, like an awkward squadin uneven row
. Rod and gun . h itsveins. But I expect not, or it wouldnot have been caught in such a man-made thing as a trap. A CANADIAN SNOW-SHOE SONG. BY DOROTHY PATRICK DYAR. There is a charm in the winter woods, when all lies gray and still;And there is joy in the winter woods, when winds blow keen and chill;Within, my heart burns warm and bright, without, dark storm-clouds gather;But North wind bold, I fear you not—theres wine in your frosty weather. Crunch, crunch! oer the crispy snow, blood a-tingle and cheeks a-glow;Through the ranks of pine that guard the gulch, like an awkward squadin uneven row; While far away through some mountain pass, an icy blast comes wildlyraving. Whirling the snow in blinding clouds, and setting the slender spruce-tops waving. Ah! free I am as the woodland deer, all in the wintry rime, Well leave all care behind, old boy; and forth well fare betime; Bark and leap in frantic joy, Laddie we care not whither The sky is gray and the North wind howls—well hit the trail Hunting in a Settled Section BY P. H. ST. LOUIS. AUTUMN is as welcome to thehunter as spring to the some anxiety I waited forits advent last year as I meantto take a new departure and have a cou-ple of companions for my usual three of us—Theodore Ouellette,Eli Dufoe and the scribe discussed mat-ters pretty carefully and had all ourarrangements complete when the timearrived. On Saturday morning, No-vember second, we started on our jour-ney to a little place called Rodne}^, abouteighty miles from Walkerville, we reached that place we hadeight miles further to go and the shadesof evening had fallen when we reachedour destination. With two double barrels and a pumpgun and accompanied by a good dog,we had two days of fine sport. In thefirst place we had decided that this wouldbe the extent of our vacation, but wewere so interested as to arrange to re-main for the balance of the week. Onthe third day we garnished the verandahof our host, Mr. J
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, booksubjectf, booksubjecthunting
