A PEEP INTO THE CANADIAN FOREST.




CHAPTER I.

THE FLYING SQUIRREL--ITS FOOD--STORY OF A WOLF--INDIAN VILLAGE--WILD RICE.


"Nurse, what is the name of that pretty creature you have in your hand?
What bright eyes it has! What a soft tail, just like a grey feather! Is it
a little beaver?" asked the Governor's [Footnote: Lady Mary's father was
Governor of Canada.] little daughter, as her nurse came into the room
where her young charge, whom we shall call Lady Mary, was playing with her
doll.

Carefully sheltered against her breast, its velvet nose just peeping from
beneath her muslin neckerchief, the nurse held a small grey-furred animal,
of the most delicate form and colour.

"No, my lady," she replied, "this is not a young beaver; a beaver is a
much larger animal. A beaver's tail is not covered with fur; it is scaly,
broad, and flat; it looks something like black leather, not very unlike
that of my seal-skin slippers. The Indians eat beavers' tails at their
great feasts, and think they make an excellent dish."