of the rapids was abundantly exciting, not only because great muscular exertion and skill were necessary on the part of the guides, but because it was often a matter of grave doubt whether the ascent could possibly be made. In the event of a failure, either from the force of the current or because of the divergence of the canoe from the proper line, nothing could prevent the frail craft from being hurled backward amid the huge bowlders which render the ascent or descent of the rapids always perilous. Accidents from either of these causes seldom happen; but there are occasional compulsory retreats and unpleasant upsets caused by the breakage or loss of setting poles or paddles at the most critical moment.

Upon one occasion my canoe had just surmounted a dangerous fall and was moving along in seeming security against the swift water a few rods above the crest of the rapids, when the setting poles of both my guides were caught in the clefts of the hidden rocks and snatched from their hands. The canoe was thus left to the mercy of the current. An upset seemed inevitable, and I instinctively began to disencumber myself for a cold bath. But in an instant both guides seized their paddles, and by almost superhuman exertions held their boat in proper line until it fell back upon the canoe in the rear, whose guides had caught up the floating set

ting poles and restored them to their owners.

In

the two minutes all this occupied there was concentrated as much excitement as one ordinarily experiences in a twelvemonth of quiet life. When, under the assurance of safety, the reaction came, I found myself as tremulous as if I had been wrestling with an athlete.

Our first ten miles were passed without any other adventure. But we were doomed to encounter one of those terrific thunder storms which are only met with in their grand and magnificent proportions in mountainous regions. It burst upon us with startling abruptness. The bright shining sun was suddenly obscured by heavy gray clouds, which came flying and rolling toward us as if propelled by a thousand tornadoes. These were followed by a troop of dense clouds black as night, from amid which there sounded out such peals of thunder as shook the huge mountains to their very foundations, and such incessant, sharp, quick lightningflashes as "struck terror to the soul" of the most intrepid among us. The whole heavens were ablaze, and the almost midnight darkness which had thus unexpectedly fallen upon us was lit up as if by a limitless conflagration. And then were opened upon us the flood-gates of the skies, and we "took to the woods." The grouping of the drenched crowd as they sought shelter from the liquid ava

lanche was sufficiently ludicrous to excite boisterous merriment in spite of the bellowing thunder and the dazzling lightning, which rendered the roar and flash of ten thousand cannon the mere crackling of baby torpedoes. It was a grandly terrific spectacle, which amply compensated us for the delay and drenching which it brought to us.

We had hoped to make at least half our journey of thirty miles before night-fall. But the storm thwarted us, and the General cried "halt" when the twelve-mile land-mark was reached.

To those fond of it, camp-life, at its worst, has but few discomforts; but among these few none are more unpleasant than dripping leaves and saturated surroundings. After such a storm everything you touch is wet. The first thing coveted is, of course, a fire. But to find available material requires time and patient searching. And when found, where is the dry spot upon which to ignite a lucifer? In our party we had an expert to whom wind and weather had always hitherto presented no obstacle to the delicate manipulation required. Under the most adverse circumstances, it seemed only necessary for him to strike a well-defined attitude to secure the desired result. But upon this occasion the magic seat of his power had so gathered dampness that he scratched in vain, scratched he never so deftly; and when he found himself no

longer "master of the situation," he was as indignant as was Balaam when his poor beast refused to do his bidding.

But the perplexities of fire-kindling in the woods after a rain storm, like other human ills, always have an ending. Very soon a glowing log-heap rendered our selected camping ground home-like and comfortable. The tents were pitched, the surroundings were speedily brought into ship-shape, a bountiful supper was prepared and eaten with a relish, the moon and the stars shone out resplendently, and after two or three hours of mingled sedate and merry conversation, stillness reigned supreme over the camp of a quartette of weary but happy anglers.

The morning after the tempest was all that heart could wish. The huge fire built in the centre of the camp had been kept in full blaze during the night, and dispersed every vestige of moisture within camp range long before any one not obliged to be moving cared to leave his comfortable couch. We had grown into the habit of taking things leisurely and were unwilling to break over a very pleasant custom simply because, by being tardy, we might fail to reach our destination before nightfall. I know that those who act upon the "early bird" theory may deem this confession derogatory to the character of zealous anglers. But I long

ago abandoned the habit of fishing before breakfast, under the fallacious idea that neither trout nor salmon are ever so voracious as during the very early hours of the very early morning. A trout or salmon pool will yield just as handsome returns between the hours of eight and ten as between the hours of five and seven, if it remains undisturbed. A great many experts will probably dispute this statement; but if they will experiment as long and as faithfully as I have, they will agree with me, and by acting upon the discovery they will find themselves happier if not better men by contentedly enjoying their morning rest rather than encountering the raw morning air in their haste to secure the fish which would just as willingly and as surely come to them after breakfast.

In making the twenty odd miles which intervened between our extemporised camp and "The Forks," we encountered at least a dozen rapids which it seemed impossible that our canoemen could surmount. North Woods guides, with all their skill and intrepidity, would deem it absolutely necessary to "carry round" these formidable obstacles. And, with their boats, they would be obliged to do so. But these bark canoes seem just adapted to overcome these tumultuous waters. It is hard work, and requires a quick eye, a steady hand, a firm foot, and a wonderfully nice appre