THE HAND OF THE SPOH^ER 53 



rivers or far-off seas. The wealth of beauty into 

 which these waterways lead is probably unsurpassed 

 by anything that Canada possesses in forest scenery. 

 The lakes with their wooded slopes and shapely 

 promontories ; the islets clad in green from the 

 pale shade of the birch to the deep tint of the pine 

 and balsam ; and the restfulness of it all, a broad 

 expanse of water, ruffled only with the gentle breeze 

 that chases rippling waves along its banks, and 

 makes panpipe music amongst its reeds and rushes. 

 In one particular only can the hand of the 

 spoiler be traced out in the primeval forest. The 

 narrow watercourses that connect the lakes have a 

 margin of dead trees, that present a melancholy 

 contrast to the exuberant floral life that lies behind 

 them. How came this touch of death, this blight of 

 forest, as if some pestilential breath had swept these 

 water avenues ? The answer is found in a too 

 wanton commercialism, caused by the lumbering 

 industry. Great dams have been erected in the 

 rivers that drain Algonquin Park. Their object is to 

 hold up the stream until the time comes for floating 

 down the huge log rafts. This pent-up water 

 floods the margin of the forest ; the trees are literally 

 drowned, and stand dismantled of every vestige of 

 foliage. This is only one effect of lumbering ; there 

 is another which the traveller does not appreciate 

 until he passes through the Rocky Mountains, or 

 explores Vancouver Park. There the magnificent 



