Travels in a Tree-top 57 



was no perceptible current to bear us along as 

 before. The waves dashing against the bare 

 trunks of trees long dead and now bent by the 

 wind added much to the wild scene. Novel 

 as it all was, I could not quite enjoy it. It 

 was something to be contemplated from the 

 shore, I thought. I know I was laughed at, 

 but the many " blind" stumps, or those just 

 beneath the surface, of which my companion 

 spoke so unconcernedly came too promi- 

 nently to mind when I least expefted them, 

 anci added much significance to the faft that 

 I cannot swim. 



As we neared home the scene abruptly 

 changed, and the river was lost in a wide ex- 

 panse that might be called a lake if the faft 

 was not so evident that it is a mill-pond. 

 This, however, did not detraft from the 

 beauty of the surroundings, and before our 

 final landing we drew up to a bold bit of 

 shore and searched, while it was yet day, for 

 pyxie. There was an abundance of bloom- 

 ing andromeda, too, and arbutus, with club- 

 moss of richest green. I almost placed my 

 hand on a centipede that glowed like an em- 

 erald. It was resting on ruddy sphagnum, 

 and made a splendid pifture. I could not 



