Lost in the Backwoods: A Tale of the Canadian Forest

"The morning had shot her bright streamers on high, O'er Canada, opening all pale to the sky, Still dazzling and white was the robe that she wore, Except where the ocean wave la...

The sun had risen in all the splendour of a Canadian summer morning when the sleepers arose from their leafy beds. In spite of the novelty of their situation, they had slept as...

A fortnight had now passed, and Catharine still suffered so much from pain and fever that they were unable to continue their wanderings; all that Hector and his cousin could do...

Louis nodded assent. "I long to go over to the island; I see lots of ducks popping in and out of the little bays beneath the cedars, and there are plenty of partridges, I am sur...

For several days they abstained from lighting a fire, lest the smoke should be seen; but this the great height of the bank would have effectually prevented. They suffered much c...

The day was far advanced before the sick Indian girl could be brought home to their sylvan lodge, where Catharine made up a comfortable couch for her with boughs and grass, and...

It was now the middle of September. The weather, which had continued serene and beautiful for some time, with dewy nights and misty mornings, began to show symptoms of the chang...

The Mohawk girl was in high spirits at the coming of the wild-fowl to the lake; she would clap her hands and laugh with almost childish glee as she looked at them darkening the...

While the Indians were actively pursuing their sports on the lake, shooting wildfowl, and hunting and fishing by torchlight, so exciting was the amusement of watching them that...

Hector and Louis had now little employment, except chopping fire-wood, which was no very arduous task for two stout, healthy lads used from childhood to handling the axe. Trappi...

"I know a lake where the cool waves break And softly fall on the silver sand; And no stranger intrudes on that solitude, And no voices but ours disturb the strand."

The little bark touched the stony point of Long Island. The Indian lifted his weeping prisoner from the canoe, and motioned to her to move forward along the narrow path that led...

"Now where the wave, with loud, unquiet song, Dashed o'er the rocky channel, froths along, Or where the silver waters soothed to rest, The tree's tall shadow sleeps upon its bre...

"Cold and forsaken, destitute of friends, And all good comforts else, unless some tree Whose speechless chanty doth better ours, With which the bitter east winds made their spor...

The setting sun was casting long shadows of oak and weeping elm athwart the waters of the river; the light dip of the paddle had ceased on the water, the baying of hounds and li...

Old Jacob and Catharine, who had been mute spectators of the scene so full of interest to them, now presented themselves before the Ojebwa chief and besought leave to depart. Th...

It is the hour of sunset; the sonorous sound of the cattle-bells is heard, as they slowly emerge from the steep hill-path that leads to Maxwell and Louis Perron's little clearin...