REMINISCENT TALES 



Tail First 



It was a perfect day, the last one of June; 

 the cool and bracing air quivered in the 

 glorious sunshine that glistened o'er wood- 

 land and waters. Breezes stirred into ripples 

 the surface of the deep, silent river as it 

 flowed through the Canadian forests in its 

 course toward the sea. Bordered on either 

 hand by giant cliffs, sublime in their dignity, 

 this magnificent stream might well have 

 been the harbinger of some exalted monarch 

 whom Nature had empowered to reign. 



Such a scene held the observer entranced. 

 The vast gorge appeared so steep it evoked 

 fear; its height seemingly pierced the zone 

 of brilliant blue, while at its base the deep 

 gliding waters were as black as night. 

 Mystery had hovered in the very atmosphere 

 of this realm of woodland until its influence 

 had become dominant. 



Reaching this spot had entailed a long, 

 hard tramp and the preceding night had 

 been unseasonably cold, a meager tent fur- 

 nishing but scant shelter and warmth to the 



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