so few human beings had ever discovered; where, too, on passing
through, it was always my custom to remove my hat--just as any one
would do on entering a church. There that day, as I stood gazing at
the glorious sunbeams as they filtered through the great chancel
window, I listened to the enchanting music of the feathered choir high
overhead, that seemed to be singing to the accompaniment of one of
Nature's most powerful organs--the roaring river--that thundered aloud,
as, with all its force, it wildly rolled huge boulders down its rocky
bed. Then, lowering my eyes, I discovered the one and only worshipper
I ever saw there. He was standing near a side aisle in the shadow of
an alcove, and he, too, was gazing up at those radiant sunbeams and
listening to the choir; moreover, notwithstanding that he was a big
brown bear, he appeared too devout even to notice me--perhaps because
he, too, felt the holy presence of "The Great Mystery" . . . our God.

Yes, my friend, it is my belief that if there is any place on earth
that is "God-forsaken," it is not to be found in even the wildest part
of the wildest wilderness, but in that cesspool called a city.


GOING TO THE POST

After half of May had passed away, and when the spring hunt was over,
Oo-koo-hoo and Amik, poling up the turbulent little streams, and
following as closely as possible the routes of their fur trails, went
the round of their trapping paths, removed their snares, sprung their
deadfalls, and gathering their steel traps loaded them aboard their
canoes. That work completed, packing began in readiness for the
postward journey; there, as usual, they would spend their well-earned
holidays with pleasure upon their tribal summer camping grounds.