“’Hard as their toil has been, the most difficult and fatiguing has yet to be encountered.  The timber is collected on the banks of the river, and has now to be thrown into the water and made into rafts, so that it can be floated down to the nearest market-town.  The water, filled with melting snow, is deadly cold and can scarcely be endured, but the men are in it from morning till night constructing the rafts, which are put together as simply as possible, and the smallest outlay made to suffice.  The rafts are of different sizes, according to the breadth of the stream; and when all is ready, they are launched, and the convoy fairly sets out on its voyage.

“’The great ugly masses of floating timber move slowly along under the care of a pilot, and the lumberers ride upon the rafts, often without shelter or protection from the weather.  They guide themselves by long and powerful poles fixed on pivots, and which act as rudders.  As they journey down the stream they sing and shout and make the utmost noise and riot.  If there comes a storm or a change of weather, the pilot steers his convoy into some safe creek for the night, and secures it as best he can.

“’Thus by degrees the raft reaches the place of destination, occasionally with some loss and damage to the timber.  In this case the master-lumberer bears the loss, and is obliged to refund the expenses incurred as best he can.  At any rate, the men are now paid off, and set out on foot for their homes.’”

Malcolm was particularly delighted with this narrative of stirring activity, and even the little girls seemed very much interested in it.  They were so sorry for the poor lumbermen who had such dreary winters off there in the Northern woods, and Clara wondered if they couldn’t have warm comforters and mittens.

“They probably have those things when they go into camp,” said Miss Harson, “but they are likely to find them in the way of working, and to cast them aside.—­Great ships are not built for nothing:  even to get the timber in readiness costs heavy labor, but, after all, no doubt, the men get interested in it and enjoy its excitement.  Fortunately for the many uses to which its timber is put, the white pine grows very rapidly, gaining from fifteen inches to three feet every year.  In deep and damp old woods it is slower of growth; it is then almost without sap-wood and has a yellowish color like the flesh of the pumpkin.  For this reason it is called ‘pumpkin-pine.’  The bark of young trees of the white-pine species is very smooth and of a reddish, bottle-green color.  It is covered in summer with a pearly gloss.  On old trunks the bark is less rough than that of any other pine.  This tree has the spreading habit of the cedar of Lebanon.  In addition to its grand and picturesque character, the white pine, says a lover of trees, may be ’regarded as a true symbol of benevolence.  Under its outspread roof numerous small animals, nestling in the bed of dry leaves that