only to fade almost within his grasp: the golden cypripedium or
moccasin flower, so singular, so lovely in its colour and formation,
waved heavily its yellow blossoms as the breeze shook the stems; and
there, mingling with a thousand various floral beauties, the azure
lupine claimed its place, shedding almost a heavenly tint upon the
earth. Thousands of roses were blooming on the more level ground,
sending forth their rich fragrance, mixed with the delicate scent of
the feathery ceanothus (New Jersey tea). The vivid greenness of the
young leaves of the forest, the tender tint of the springing corn, was
contrasted with the deep dark fringe of waving pines on the hills, and
the yet darker shade of the spruce and balsams on the borders of the
creeks, for so our Canadian forest rills are universally termed. The
bright glancing wings of the summer red-bird, the crimson-headed
woodpecker, the gay blue-bird, and noisy but splendid plumed jay might
be seen among the branches; the air was filled with beauteous sights
and soft murmuring sounds.

Under the shade of the luxuriant hop-vines that covered the rustic
porch in front of the little dwelling, the light step of Catharine
Maxwell might be heard mixed with the drowsy whirring of the big
wheel, as she passed to and fro guiding the thread of yarn in its
course. And now she sang snatches of old mountain songs, such as she
had learned from her father; and now, with livelier air, hummed some
gay French tune to the household melody of her spinning-wheel, as she
advanced and retreated with her thread, unconscious of the laughing
black eyes that were watching her movements from among the embowering
foliage that shielded her from the morning sun.

"Come, ma belle cousine," for so Louis delighted to call her. "Hector
and I are waiting for you to go with us to the 'Beaver Meadow.' The