DOWN THE MOON RIVER. 



L. -S. WILSON. 



One day that overshadows others spent 

 on a summer trip in the delightful Mus- 

 koka country, is Moon river day. Doubt- 

 less there are many streams equal in pic- 

 turesqueness to the Moon; streams on 

 which just as delightful days may be 

 spent; but I have not seen them. 



The Moon and the Muskosh rivers de- 

 liver the waters of Lakes Joseph, Rosseau 

 and Muskoka into Georgian bay. These 

 waters fall 20 feet or more at Bala, at the 

 extreme Western shore of Muskoka lake, 

 over rocks and boulders, and for 2 miles 

 form the Muskoka river, which, after that 

 distance, is known in its Northern branch 

 as the Moon river, and in its Southern 

 stream as the Muskosh. Both are wild. 

 They make their crooked ways through 

 forests of pines, hemlocks, and oaks, these 

 trees towering high above a mass of tangled 

 undergrowth through which, it seems, 

 man has never passed. Fires of long years 

 ago, perhaps in Indian times, have left 

 their marks in many places; and tall pines, 

 straight as arrows, devoid of all green, lift 

 their heads, which have been washed by 

 he rain and bleached white by the sun, 



high above the second growth. They be- 

 long to the old guard. The beds and 

 shores of these rivers are rocky; falls and 

 rapids abound and add much to the charm- 

 ing wildness. 



The Moon is a narrow stream. The im- 

 pression is that it has literally forced its 

 way through the forest, cutting its irregu- 

 lar course in many places through solid 

 rock. You glide along for miles between 

 woody banks and moss covered rocks with- 

 out sign of man. There are no villages, 

 no camps, no sound save voices of the 

 wood birds, the musical running of the 

 rapids, the tumbling of the falls and the 

 constant dip of the paddles. You feel that 

 you are viewing a creation of nature's chief 

 landscape gardener. You are a congrega- 

 tion, all by yourself, small but attentive 

 and appreciative, to whom the great 

 preacher is delivering a mighty sermon 

 without words. You will not forget it. 

 In after days you will, perhaps, contrast it 

 with the spoken word from the desk in 

 some grand church and that silent sermon 

 will be with you still, strong, refreshing 

 and inspiring. 



A PORTAGE ON THE MOON RIVER. 

 349 



