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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.

A sTni~:ri'ii or S().\ll~2 'l‘Illl{'l‘\'-I-‘|\'l-2 .\iti.i-:s

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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the sweet, wild laughter arose into boisterous, teinpestuous

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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

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