scene for a poet to describe. Imagine a lonely forest, dark with the gloom of night, not even a fire-fly abroad, not a single star seen through the canopy of boughs, not a sound heard, except the rustling of the night breeze in the topmost branches, and the ceaseless murmur of the distant river, pressing on its way. Suddenly a bell is heard, and as suddenly lights are seen advancing from a number of huts which then become visible, and where but a few minutes before all was gloom and silence: now, by the glare of torches, are discovered the innumerable stems of tall forest trees, half in light, half in shade, with impenetrable gloom beyond them, surrounding a spacious area where men and cattle are employed, and where all is bustle and activity. The logs are being placed upon the wagons by means of temporary platforms, one end of which rests upon the earth, another upon the wagons; and by means of this expedient enormous logs of many tons weight are gradually pushed up. When the wagons are loaded a signal is given, and the cattle begin to draw. A looker-on might almost fancy that the ponderous loads would crush the rocks beneath them, so heavily do they begin to move, and so massy is the appearance which they present, as, guided by the glare of the pine torches, they are seen slowly proceeding through the forest; the men and cattle thrown out in strong relief, while the further end of the loads is dimly seen in the gathering gloom of the deserted forest. Wearily they go, and reach at length the river side before the sun is at its highest power. Here a very different scene ensues: the logs are shortly removed from the

FELLING MAHOGANY.

241

wagons, and being marked with the owners' names, are thrown into the river, where they continue till the periodical rains commence at the end of May.

The rivers are soon swollen to a great height, and the enormous logs begin to float. Their course is followed by the band of workmen in flat-bottomed canoes, and they have often to disengage them from the branches of overhanging trees, until they are stopped after a voyage of two or three hundred miles by a boom placed near the mouth of the

R

river. The logs are then separated and formed into large rafts, in which state they are guided to the timber wharfs of the proprietors, where they are taken out of the water, and such parts as were split or rent in being dashed by the current against the rocks are sawed off; and the mahogany when thus prepared is ready for shipping.

Those deep forests, where grow the mahogany, the bullet tree, and iron-wood, the red wood and sapodilla, are the favourite resorts of the heron, that majestic bird which seems in unison with the wildest solitudes of nature.

Far up some brook's still course, whose current mines The forest's blackened roots, and whose green marge Is seldom visited by human foot

The lonely heron sits, and harshly breaks

The sabbath-silence of the wilderness :
And you may find her by some reedy pool,
Or brooding gloomily on the time-stained rock,
Beside some misty and far-reaching lake.
Most awful is thy deep and heavy boom,
Gray watcher of the waters! Thou art king
Of the blue lake: and all the winged kind
Do fear the echo of thy angry cry.

How bright thy savage eye! Thou lookest down
And see'st the shining fishes as they glide:
And poising thy gray wing, thy glossy beak
Swift as an arrow strikes its roving prey.
Ofttimes I see thee through the curling mist,
Dart like a spectre of the night, and hear
Thy strange bewildering call, like the wild scream
Of one whose life is perishing in the sea.

M'LELLAN.

WOOL-BEARING ANTELOPE.

243

Passing over a variety of groups and genera, which belong to the ancient continents, we notice in the Apolocerine Tribe, the wool-bearing Antelope (A. lanigera), the Ovine, and the Chichiltic. The first of these interesting animals was observed by Lewis and Clark as low down as the forty-fifth degree of north latitude, though it chiefly affects the elevated regions of the Rocky Mountains, and those near the head waters of the Columbia. The sources of muddy rivers, such as the Saskachiwin, and Athabayca, are some of their favourite resorts, but they are said to be less numerous on the eastern than the western slope of the Rocky Mountains. Genuine mountaineers, they are, rarely, if ever, seen at a distance from their own upland haunts, of which the climate and productions seem best adapted to their nature and mode of life. At the beginning of summer they hasten to the peaks and ridges in quest of pasture, but they retire to more sheltered places during winter.

He who visits those stern regions when autumn is receding from the glens and valleys, may see troops of these wild creatures coming down the mountains. None of the animal creation are more in harmony with the solitudes of nature; their long hair stands erect, and gives them a most shaggy appearance; their ears are rather long and pointed, and a profusion of hair, depending from either side of the face, and beneath the throat, streams like a beard upon the wind in their rapid and perilous descent. Their flesh has a musky flavour, and is, at best, unsavoury; and hence, though they are easily approached, the hunter rarely pursues them unless

impelled by hunger. Their fleece, too, is esteemed of little value by the traders, and is used only as a covering from the cold; yet good judges have asserted that the silky fineness of the wool is not surpassed, even by that of the Cashmere Goat. It is, therefore, to be regretted that the patriotic intentions of naturalizing this animal, as expressed by the late Lord Selkirk, were not carried into execution.

The Ovine Antelope (A. mazama), bears a great affinity to the preceding species in every essential character. Some naturalists conjecture that he is merely a variety, and that the colour and the quality of his fleece may be ascribed to a residence within