There Is A Fine New Rink In The Village; And In The Mornings Those Of
Us Who Are Novices In The Use Of Rollers Have A Quiet Opportunity To
Practice And Disport Ourselves With The Grace Of A Bureau, Or Other
Clumsy Piece Of Furniture On Wheels!
Then we go to the wharves to witness the lading of lumber vessels.
Some
of the logs floating in the water are so huge as to attest that there
are vast and aged forests somewhere in her Majesty's domains in America;
and the lumbermen, attired in rough corduroy, red shirts, and big boots,
balance themselves skillfully on some of the slippery trunks, while with
pole and boat-hook propelling other great ones to the gaping mouths in
the bow of the vessel. Then horse, rope, pulley, and windlass are
brought into play to draw the log into the hold and place it properly
among other monarchs of the forest, thus ignominiously laid low, and
become what "Mantalini" would style "a damp, moist, unpleasant lot."
From the wharf above we look down into the hold, and, seeing this black,
slimy, muddy cargo, say regretfully, "How are the mighty fallen!" as we
think of the grand forests of which these trees were once the pride and
glory, but of which ruthless man is so rapidly despoiling poor Mother
Earth.
We have brought with us those aids to indolence which a tiny friend of
ours calls "hang-ups", expecting to swing them in the woods and inhale
the odors of pine; but the woods are too far away; so we are fain to
sit under a small group of those trees at the end of the garden and gaze
upon the peaceful valley.
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