And, Reader, the life which I have led has been in some respects a singular one. Think of a person intent on such pursuits as mine have been, aroused at early dawn from his rude couch on the alder-fringed brook of some northern valley, or in the midst of some yet unexplored forest of the west, or perhaps on the soft and warm sands of the Florida shores, and listening to the pleasing melodies of songsters innumerable, saluting the magnificent orb from whose radiant influence the creatures of many worlds receive life and light. Refreshed and reinvigorated by healthful rest, he starts upon his feet, gathers up his store of curiosities, buckles on his knapsack, shoulders his trusty firelock, says a kind word to his faithful dog, and recommences his pursuit of zoological knowledge. Now the morning is spent, and a squirrel or a trout afford him a repast. Should the day be warm, he reposes for a time under the shade of some tree. The woodland choristers again burst forth into song, and he starts anew, to wander wherever his fancy may direct him, or the objects of his search may lead him in pursuit. When evening approaches and the birds are seen betaking themselves to their retreats, he looks for some place of safety, erects his shed of green boughs, kindles his fire, prepares his meal, and as the Widgeon or Blue-winged Teal, or perhaps the breast of a Turkey, or a steak of venison, sends its delicious perfumes abroad, he enters into his parchment-bound journal the remarkable incidents and facts that have occurred in the course of the day. Darkness has now drawn her sable curtain over the scene, his repast is finished, and kneeling on the earth he raises his soul to Heaven, grateful for the protection that has been granted to him and the sense of the Divine presence in this solitary place. Then wishing a cordial good night to all the dear friends at home, THE AMERICAN WOODSMAN wraps himself up in his blanket, and closing his eyes, soon falls into that comfortable sleep which never fails him on such occasions.