-~ % larity in Canada within the last five years, and, " apart from the great sporting centres, there exist . River? with its romantic forests, its legend- A NNRNNRNNNEAN SN, N A \ 7, %, (L7727 \) R RN ‘«\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ T P T T T Ly it d kbbbt oottt N R PR e S SR S \'v 77 22207 7 BY E. PAULINE JOHNSON. NTARIO boasts many a beautiful inland river, whose waters fret shores historically famous and naturally pictuiesque, but the royal little stream that laughs and slumbers alternately through the south-western counties. that tosses its current wildly about rocky coast and mid- stream boulder, that hurls itself into spray, whirlpool and rapid, then, tired and silent, slips into dark, still pools and long, yellow sand reaches— Ah ' who would not know it was The Grand thronged hills, its wide and storied flats, its tradition-fraught vallevs? This was the great domain of that most powerful of North American nations, the Irogquois, who, ) joining their forces and fortunes with Britain, subsequent to the American war ol independ- ence, received as indemnity the vast tract of conntry lving within the limits of six miles Lorderinge on cither side of the Grand from irs source to its mouth, although, with all the alleged wealth of this ancient people, they count to-day as their sole landed possessions onlv a few thousand acres, but a small portion of which fronts on the waters “hat are insep- arably linked with the red man and his trea- ditions. In olden days, when the industrious heaver dammed the ereeks, and hears haunted the almost impenetrable torests, when the shy red deer stole Lightly down to Bt KOS Bl Bt I Yve 200 0ams Z VG VAR Y AN a7 % o AV 2% 4 B0Ze s % 7 45 % 7 N e “SAk W RN Y B W Zs ] RSy ot By N By A % 5ot Kl Peeds Il % 4 4 AT BVegs DO N EXXCA5 PV K 49455 %0,v, % :’V ":':%.7':":: "’}’ . i\ YN e, / v, A A O R A PR RS IR 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 WITH FINGERS LIKE IRON, I heard the hurried plunge of the stern blade, and with the knowledge of the pliant wrist and mighty muscle that was master of rapid, paddle and Peterboro’, and which had piloted me through many a more dangerous run than this, 1 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, but that sturdy little canoe never failed us, bring- ing up at the foot of the rapid with scarcely a quart of water | SRS 14° 5 20, JGIW Ty e vof 2 'y ] Y¥, D dhple it el Yl ey Uy e 410 a3 o 78S T Ry y wokiNVe % v 2RO RN R T Ly o F ey IR RS T g b ¥ -'w;‘\‘t-.k L & “ ) foA g h i NGRAA "uLu E. PAULINE JOIINSON IN ITER CANOE. shipped, but with two breathless, wind-blown, spray-showered people, 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 B TN P T R s ' » -. x ‘,‘ R 3:..-17;‘ N3 % : MO ON THE UPPER GRAND. pools, sluggish and currentless as a lagoon. We paddled on, disturbing great cranes that rose on indo- lent wings, flapped lazily by, and settled once more in the marshes when we had passed. Only the voices of land-locked springs, trickling their way to the river, and the quaint cry of the sandpipers scurrying along shore arose on the warm June air, until the streain, Jealous of these rivals, laughed ou.c once more into rapids and natural dams, the shootingof which drenched us to the throats. But with all their quarrelling and 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 venturesome 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 that at the end of eleven miles, it is only two and a half across country to the point l you started from. A short portage BRINGS YOU TO THE CANAL, up which you paddle with perfect ease, having performed the extraordinary feat of running more than thirteen miles, hringing up at the starting point with not a paddle stroke against stream. This is the favorite run of the Brantford Canoe Club, who invade the river three times each summer, with Hags waving, club colors Hlying, and each little craft laden down with fantastic devices in Chinese lanterns and torch effects. The tlotilla musters fifty-five strong, and probably no club in Canada claims & more interesting or historice A B (TR . -y ey o vJ The city lies scarcely a mile astern, hefore the lovely ridge of hills known as Tutela 'HEMS outline their crests against the sky. 'hey were the old-time haunts of the now (*;kt,inlclN‘m‘liun tribe, whose language even is comparatively a dead one. "T'here remains but one old woman, living on the Six Nations Reserve, twenty miles down stream, who speaks this forgotten tongue, and. were it not for the iudefatigable zeal and stody manifested by Mr. Hovatio Hale, the ciminent Ianslianolo- sty this quaint diadect would haove remained forever unrecorded, §03% alsh - U [ the midst of these hills that have many a time echoed the eervie death crv that told of up-strean murders and bloodshed; when the redd man only lived and hunted and died, before the curtain dropped on that wild wood scene, and the action changed amid other _ stage settings, there stands an old-fashioned ‘white frame cottage, with faded green shutters, a wide veran- dah, and a drowsy air of yesterday hanging about its eaves and half-neglected gardens. It was for many years THIS HHOME OF ALEXANDER GRAHAM BELL, OF TELEPHONE FAME and from this house to Brantford, two and a half miles distant. the trial wire was stretched. When a little child I often heard my fathey relate this story of the initial performance over this unperfected wire that was to grow with years into anecessity more important than at that time they even dared to hope. 'I'he young scien- tist, anxious, but confident, had bidden a number of guests to dine at the quaint Bell homestead, and to participate in the pleasure of the experi- ment. Young Graham and my father personally talked much of the wire, with non-conducting sta{)les to the fences and rrees between the Heights andd the city, spending much of the afternoon at the work. Succeding the dinner came the experi- ment, which was very satisfactory, the operator in the city being able to distinguish the voices of cach guest, until my father was requested to speak in Mc “Can’t hear,” said the city operator. The greeting was repeated. ' “Something’s wrong,” said the city man. Another Mohawk sentence from my father. “What’s that ?” from the city. More Mohawk. City man, “‘Oh! I say professor, you might have invited ine, how many cases did you open ?” A wild roar of laughter from *“'I'he Heights.” and young Grahaimn’s voice over iny father’s shoul- der ‘*You've insulted the chief 7 Apologies from the city man, and general amusement at both ends of the line. With what horror the simple: minded old Tutelas would have regarded that bewitched bit of wire that carried the human ‘ voice across those silent hills of theirs, that have = nurtured the greatness of race, and the power of intellect. A century agd’the T'utela roved here in pride of heritage and health, a century hence, and who shall say what the world will not owe to this gifted young pale face whose feet have wandered through many days among those heights and valleys ? The redman’s doom has overtaken the Tutela, 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 mrple heads, while the river purls and whispers a ceaseless {ullaby about their feet. A few miles further down stream, and the gpire of the ‘‘Old N ¥ 4 ‘S‘ .