In  the  early  fifties,  in  the  vigor  of  youth  and  strength,
he  went  to  California  via  Panama,  remaining  there  about
three  years.  His  experience  on  the  voyage  and  while


AMUSEMENTS— CONTES  AND  RACONTEURS.          6l

there  would  be,  even  with  frills  and  embroidery  trimmed
off,  well  worth  printing.  Had  he  been  able  to  read  and
write,  with  his  intelligence,  sobriety  and  readiness  to  work
at  anything  that  was  honest  he  might,  in  those  times,  soon
have  grown  rich.  He  worked  little  at  gold -digging,  but
took  jobs  and  wages  from  others,  and  what  was  more,  he
saved  most  of  his  earnings.  Toward  the  end  of  three
years,  although  he  was  gaining  more  than  he  ever  had
done  before,  he  got  homesick,  which  is  not  surprising,
seeing  that  he  had  left  his  young  wife  behind  him.  He
brought  home  enough  to  pay  what  he  had  borrowed  for
his  outfit  and  have  three  thousand  dollars  left  with  which
to  buy  a  farm  and  stock.  Having  got  the  farm  into  run-
ning order  he  went  to  work  in  the  woods,  exploring  in  the
summer  and  fall,  making  logs  in  the  winter  and  driving
them  in  the  spring.  I  had  occasion  once  to  employ  him,
and  he  has  stood  by  me  ever  since.  He  loves  the  woods
as  a  sailor  loves  the  sea.  A  common  expression  between
us  \s"le  bois  est  beau"  (the  woods  are  beautiful),  and
this  no  matter  what  the  weather  may  be.  In  summer  or
winter,  sunshine  or  storm,  rain  or  snow,  le  bois  est
toujours  beau.  Of  late  years,  when  our  duties  have  led
us  to  where  there  were  no  comfortable  camps  near  at  hand,
we  have  taken  a  tent  and  a  small  sheet-iron  stove  and
camped  wherever  we  liked.  These,  with  our  blankets  and
the  few  provisions  necessary,  could  easily  be  drawn  on  a
toboggan.  Camping  in  a  tent  in  mid-winter  in  a  Cana-
dian forest  does  not  sound  like  anything  very  attractive,
but  it  is  one  of  the  joys  of  life  to  Nazaire  and  me.  When
our  day's  work  is  done,  the  tent  set  up,  wood  all  in,  and
our  little  stove  glowing,  supper  eaten,  pipes  lighted,  and
we  lie  down  on  our  luxurious  bed  of  branches,  our  invari-
able remark  is  "  ll-y-en  a  bien  qui  sont  plus  mat  que
nous  autres  "  (there  are  a  great  many  people  worse  off
than  we  are).
