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forty-"five. Miles on thefﬁrand

BY E. PAULINE JOHNSON.

NTARIO boasts many a beautiful inland river, whose waters fret shores historically famous and naturally picturesque, Imt the royal little stream that laughs and sliiiiibers alternately through the south-western counties. that tosses its current wildly about rocky coast and iiiid-

stream boulder, that hurls itself into spray, whirlpool and rapid. then. tired and silent. slips into dark.

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merriment, and in another moment we swirled round a bend,

dashing headlong into a tossing, twirling mass of waters

that fretted and fumed themselves into eddies and whirlpools

and showers of pearly spray, with a petulance that deﬁed estraint.

Without a word we GRIPPED OUR PADDLES wrrii FINGERS LIKE mos,

Iheard the hurried plunge of the stern blade, and with the knowledge of the 1315 ‘wast and mighty muscle that was master of rapid, pad e and Peterboro’, and which had iloted me through many a more dangerous run than this, ' knelt steady and straight, while we bounded through, swerving one moment to the right to escape a boulder, the next, running to the left to avoid a shoal. More than once I thought we were over. lint that sturdy little canoe never failed us, bring»

ing tip at the foot of the rapid with scarcely a quart of water

still pools and long, yellow sand reaches-— Ah 3 who would not know it was 'l‘he Grand

thronged hills, its wide and storied flats, its tradition-frauglit valleys? 'l‘his was the great domain of that. most powerful of North Aiiierican nations, the \V‘li0_.-.< "joining their forces am!" I. . ;.lt'h‘IIvlta{ln-. subsequi-iit to the American war of independ- ence. rm-eiveil as indemnity the vast tract of country lying within the limits of six miles l-oi'ilci'iiig on cither side of the (Fraud from its smtrce to its mouth. although. with all the iillegetl wealth of this ancient _people, they count to-day as their sole landed possessions only ii. few tllaillﬁﬂllﬂl newt. but :1 small portion of which fronts on the waters that are insep- arahly linked with‘l"he red man and his tra- lii olden days. wlii-ii the industrious lsi-aver tl:lllllIlt‘|l the creclcs, and hears liaitnted the almost impenetrahli- tori-sts. when the shy re--I «let-r stole lightly down to slalte its thirst in the crystal stii-ain. and only the lndi:in’s xiii-cmisiiii-il foot li-ft its imprint aloiig the -liuiv. the fil'.'llHl was a ll:ll'l'(:\\'. ttii'htilciit. f0l't*.~l \\‘:tlt‘l't‘(‘lll'.\‘t‘. :il>iuitiiliii_:: in fish of all kiiicls. and ll:l\‘l_*_1‘:ll'lt‘ only by the birch bark --aiioc and the odd. native "ilug-oiit." which t'\'t’ll to-day may be seen in iuaiiy unbridgcd. , ferryless localities, especially along the lro- ' «iuois reserve tracts. But for many a by-gone year the Grand has been a broad. semi-slug- '

'vish stretch of water, owing to Ina!-W3’ mints and their ._ _ , dams backing the water into wide, still stretches for mi es up stream. above which many ripples and rills of the erstwhile rapids sin ' and purl to the bircli-crowned banks, like .soiiveii- irs of the long ago, and although these rapids cannot boast the fascination of danger, or the charm of peril, their rollick- ing laughter is a delight to the canoeist’s ear, and their devious, boulder-fraught course a test of his paddle’s skill. The canoeist. who has not “ run ” the Grand, who

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tempestuous fury they failed to overthrow our basswood, and the sole complaint we had against them was that they were not dangerous and frequent enough to suit our venturesoine spirits.

We slipped very slowly into Brantford, for many waste waters, dams and mill races take the life out of the stream above the town. But if it lacks character above, it certainly regains its natural temper and tone, as it whirls away from the little city, like a steed broken loose from chafing harness, and whatever bondage it suffers to serve the good townsfolk, is but a tonic and stimulant to further vivacity, and rejuven- ates all its up-stream vitality. The river takes a huge loop here. forming so perfect a horseshoe thatat the end of eleven miles. it is only two and a half across country to the point you started from. A short portage

RRINGS you To 'rui-: CANAL, up wliiclrynvni paddle with perfect case, having

performed the extraordinary feat of rtiiiiiiiig more than thirteen miles, bringing up at the starting point with not a paddle stroke against sti'ea.ni. This is the favorite run of tlieBraiit._f0ﬂ.l C:unoeCl‘ﬁll‘i, who invade the ri yer three times each summer, with flags waving, (fll‘l) colors flying, and each little craft laden doivn with fantastic, devices in Cliinese lanterns aml torch effects. The flotilla musters lift.y—live» strong, and probably no cltib in (Janada claims a more interesting or liist.oric :'.'}t:9~'.‘-. i.<’=:' .‘i:: :;-. ' _ -._

'l‘he city lii-s scarcely a mile astern, before the lovely ridge of hills known as f L O

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'l.‘hey ‘vcre the tlltl‘hll|l(! haunts of the BMW c§~<tinct.\lfniliLaii tri-luv, whose language even is I‘-OlIllI1tI'1ll,lV(*.l_\' a dead one. 'l‘here rt-iuains but one old woman, living on the Six WWW Reserve, tweiity miles down stream, who sptaks this lot}.-,'oHi-ti lotigtic. and. wine it not {oi the iiiili-l';it i_-_-;al>lc7.i-til and stuily iiiaiiil}-sti-il by .\ll'.’llt)l‘ttl;l’l-!ii"I‘\ﬂ’0, the t'll|llIt,'lll lii-li:itiolo- gist, this iiltnihl “|‘l‘l2lll5I‘l would liaye I'4‘lll£Illl|"l fUI'('\'('l' iiiii'i-corili-il, _

lit the midst of tlii-scliillslliiil hayc tiiatiyl a time i-cliocd the i-i~i'ie do-ath cry that told of iip—stre:im inurilers and hlooilslii,-d’, when the red man only lived aml hunted and died.

E. PAULINE JOHNSON IN HER CANOE.

ship ied, but with two breathless, wind-blown, spray-sliowered peope, kneeling fore and aft, and wearing expressions of mingled surprise and triumph. And this was but the begin- ning of the end; following closely, came rapid after rapid, with a quarter mile breathing space between, until eleven of these noisy, frolicsome fellows had linked themselves into one long chain, covering seven miles, and then, in apparently

utter weariness, the waters sank to slumber in great, deep my fath

has never pitched canvas on its lovely shores. who has never hoisted a sail to its tranche!-'0ti.s and coquettish winds, scarcely deserves the name, and he certainly has a future sporting ground rife with surprises and delights, which is well worthy a long trip to traverse.

Canoeing has sprung into marvellous popu- larity in Canada within the last five years. and, apart from the great sporting centres, there exist no clubs of more active Ol‘_L'3llll7.;lll0ll than those of Galt and Brantford, on the (fraud.

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of water lies between these points, aml a Ioyelicr riin cannot be found in the ].’roviiii-.e. .lt, can be covered in a few hours, for the rapids follow each other thick and last. and the stern paddler must keep pretty wide awake. or his craft will come to ‘.Il‘l(‘f in the twinkling of an eye. on one of the myriad rock shelves. or tiny. innocent-lookiiig boulders that throng the river bed.

One warm June morning two of mt made the run in a little. cruising Peterboro’ that we had shipped by rail at-1-oss country the previous day. Our taut little craft slip wed between the rocky shores upon which the s uinberiiig old town of Halt crowds its grey stone houses, and in the fourth of an hour we had left streetsand buildings and people behind the rolling hills and pasture lands. and were dancing along on the sunny breast of the Giand that very soon changed its shores from green country sides and meadow lands. to wild, cedar-crested banks, where shy birds hushed their song at the sound of our voices, and where pathless woods and underbrusli stretched along the very water’s edge.

A few miles of placid water, on the surface of which our paddles dipped audibly, and then the ’waking of, waves amid stream. a visibly accelerated movement of shores Slippin" astern, a soft whisper of bows cutting rapidly througli hurrying waters, and then, 0, sweetest of all music, the far- olf laughter of a rapid, rollicking aml scampering among its stones. Nearer, nearer it came; the ripple grew into a roar,

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ON 'I‘llE UPPER GRAND.

nools, slug ish and currentless as a lagoon.

We pad led on, disturbing great cranes that rose on indo- lent wings ﬂapped lazily by, and settled once more in the marshes w on we had passet . Only the voices of land-locked s irings, trickling their way to the river, and the quaint cry 0 the sandpi iers scurrying along shore arose on the warm June air. until the stream, Jealous of these rivals, laughed out once more into rapids and natural dams, the shooting of which drenched us to the throats. But with all theirquarrelling and

before the curtain dropped on that wild wood scene, and the action changed amid other . Stase settings, there stands an old-fashioned -white frame cottage,_witli faded green shutters, a wide veran- ‘lﬂlh “ml 3 <lI'0ws,_v air of yesterday hanging about its eaves and lltllf-neglecteil gardens. It was for many years

TIIE HOME OF ALEXANDER GRAHAM BELL, O1" 'I‘ELEl’llONE FAME

and from this house to Brantford, two and ahalf miles distant. the W131 wire was stretched. iWhen a little child I often heard er relate this story of the initial performance over this u_nperfected wire that was to grow with years into a necessity more important than at that time they even dared to hope. 'l‘he young scien- tist, anxious. but confident, had hidden a number of guests to_(l_ine at the quaint Bell homestead, and tto participate in the pleasure of the experi- inen . Young Graham and my father personally lJtg.ll{€]’.(l piuoli {of the ultire, wlit.-h iioii-oon}d{uctpig s a ) es ot ie encesani trees ietwecnt ie ei r its ziiiif the city, spending much of the afternooii at the work. Succeding the dimier came the experi- ment, which was very satisfzictory. the operator in the city being able In distinguish the voices Of (3:tt‘lt ',:‘lt(‘..\i lltttwll lII_\' fttlltttr was 11-iliit-steil to speak in Mei ‘ , . "(Ian’t liiinznttvl said the city operator. The greeting was repeatt-il. ‘ “h‘oiiietlii1plg’s wrong,” said the city man. Another ‘ oha wk sentence from my father. ‘h‘1\V’li:I1\tI’s}tli:it]?” from the city. ore '0 iaw <. 1 Cityinap, “Ollil I. say professloii, you might iave invitei me, iow many cases i it you 0 ien '3” A wild roar of laughter from “'l‘he lleiglits.” and young (,lraliam’s voice over my father’s shoul- der “You’ve insulted the chief ” Apologies from the city man, and general amusement at both ends of the line. \Vith what horror the simple- minded old '.l‘utelas would have regarded that bewitclied bit of wire that carried the human voice across those silent hills of theirs, that have nurtured the gmatnieil of rum. and the of iﬁwﬁut. A century agd'the Tutela rove here in pride of heritage and health, a century_hence, and who shall say what the world will not owe to this gifted young plgla tnjgvilrhose foet lipve wa'B;lerleglthropg‘llioi.panly‘<:ays among t. iose iei its ant va eys-'. e ' man I in ~ _ theflftttelfn, the white man has overtaken his ambition, and to- day both race and genius are unknown to the beautiful hills that alone re main unchanging and unchanged, lifting forever their purple lielads, Vkillllle ftht: river purls and whispers a ceaseless ullab a out t eir ee . A felw miles further down stream, and the spire of the “Old

liteims outline their crests against tlifé-%*,,-‘I.

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