his "left walker wounded in the 

 war" and now tortured by rheu- 

 matism, in wrappings of gunny 

 sack. 



It was a jewelled morning. Delib- 

 erately we cast away carking care 

 and gave our senses to the exquisite 

 bit of the world about us. The sun- 

 light, brilliant and calm, dappled 

 through a grove of spruce and black 

 birch in great splotches of yellow, 

 seeking out the dainty arbutus that 

 spread its dark serrated leaves in 

 modest profusion, and flashing into 

 greater beauty the strange shape 

 and colours of the pitcher plant, 

 the orchid of the North. 



The grove ended at the bank of 

 a stream which we crossed on step- 

 ping stones and forthwith entered 

 a vast clearing on which the sun 

 beamed its full noon rays unchecked. 

 A generation ago, it too had nour- 

 ished a proud forest of primeval 

 growth, but the lumberman's axe 

 had smitten it away and the earth 

 had long since donned its resigna- 

 tion garb of waving feathery grasses, 

 scarlet and blue-fruited bushes, and 

 wide stretches of the free- flowering 



