DWIGHT-WIMAN CLUB. 



and white, the greyish yellow of the birch, the 

 huge deep-red leaf of the dog-wood shnib, the quiver- 

 ing and twisting foliage of the bass-wood, while our 

 senses drank in the whisper of the lordly pine and the 

 fragrance of the balsam. Launched in our canoes on 

 Cooper's Lake, of which Mr. Cox has ofiven us a faith- 

 ful sketch in oils, we had time to note, along its margin, 

 in passing, the dull, smoky nuance of the alder bushes, 

 the deep, old-country green of the black alder, the 

 cripple-brush, on which deer feed in the spring, greyish 

 green in color, interspersed with nanny-berries, green 

 to crimson ; dazzling bits of the rowan tree, the Scot- 

 tish name for the symmetrical mountain ash, and ferns 

 which displayed all the tints of yellow and brown which 

 a Parisian milliner might attempt to describe as jaune, 

 cjiir, brun foncL Then a two-mile portage to Long 

 Lake, a delightful jaunt along a frequented path through 

 a forest of pine, maple and birch, aglow with all the 

 colors of the autumn. Afloat again in our canoes, we 

 had not paddled far up Long Lake before we came 

 within sight of our camp. 



Aye, there it was, pitched at a point midway of the 

 lake, on a plateau within forty feet of the water and five 

 or six feet above it, the British ensign with the Cana- 

 dian shield, also Tom's yachting burgee: *'T" in red on 

 a white ground, flying from the top of a burnt pine 

 over all. The children of the nearest settler, little 

 " stoics of the woods " they were, looked curiously at 

 the Red Cross flag, to them, doubtless, a sort of gigantic 

 handkerchief fluttering against the sky — for they had 

 never seen a flag, and knew nothing of the significance 

 of the bits of scarred bunting for the honor of which 

 statesmen scheme and men fight and die. Pity it was 



