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Next year’s races will be sailed a few days 
later than this year, the 1909 dates having been 
Aug. 14, 16 and 17. The past season the dates 
were so arranged as to have the first race on 
Saturday and the two remaining on Monday 
and Tuesday. The new dates call for all three 
races in one week, the last coming on Saturday. 
The date for the Michigan City race has not 
as yet been chosen. 
On Small Streams in Spring. 
A gentle south wind filtering through the 
foliage—a clear blue sky overhead, the air 
laden with the fragrance of numerous wild 
flowers and with that freshness found along 
marshy waters—such were the conditions as we 
started from the headwaters of an inland stream 
on an afternoon in May. 
This old river winds its way through meadows 
and woods, making wide detours in all direc¬ 
tions. Head room is limited in many places as 
the canoeist passes underneath the overhang¬ 
ing boughs. Owing to the density of the under¬ 
growth, the vision is often limited to a couple 
of feet ahead, yet opportunities are at times 
offered to scan the surrounding country for 
miles, to look over hayfields and apple orchards, 
where the predominating feature is the deli¬ 
cate contrast of a pale-blue sky against the 
velvet-like softness of the green levels. 
A turn in the river brings to view scenes en¬ 
tirely different. While the depth of the water 
gradually increases, the shores spread further 
apart. Tall trees line the banks and their cool 
shadows extend over the pools. The iight, as 
it penetrates through the leaves of .the various 
trees, is transformed into a harmonious color 
scheme in which warm green predominates, 
changing again to strong yellow as it passes 
through particularly transparent leaves and then 
blending into deeper greens again, until some 
clusters of leaves, grouped one beneath the 
other, shut out the light sufficiently to give 
the cool blues of total shade. 
The oaks, having put forth their leaves some¬ 
what later than the other trees, have very small 
leaves. Their diminutive size seems to encour¬ 
age an appreciation of their subtle outlines, the 
wide space between each leaf permitting one to 
study it individually while looking at all col¬ 
lectively. Along these streams there are many 
fine specimens of the sycamore or buttonwood, 
their topmost branches reaching to a consider¬ 
able height, having, in this case, the effect of 
breaking the monotony of otherwise low woods. 
Among trees, wild flowers and scrubs clothed 
in varicolored blossoms our attention seems 
equally divided; in fact, we seem to forget that 
we are afloat in a canoe with a steady though 
not very rapid current underneath until the 
stream leads around a curve too violent in its 
nature to permit our sixteen-foot canoe to con¬ 
tinue on its way undirected by the paddles. 
Very quietly we glide upon the beach and only 
become aware of the fact that we are high and 
dry when we perchance cease gazing elsewhere. 
As we paddle on, we vary the interest in ma¬ 
terial things by keeping an eye on the bottom 
of the river, this in itself a very interesting oc¬ 
cupation, to carefully note the various forma¬ 
tions of sand and clay deposited or carved out 
as the case may be by the onrushing water. It 
would require a thorough study of the sur¬ 
roundings to ascertain the exact cause of each 
bend in the stream, but in many places ordi¬ 
nary curiosity is readily satisfied by such con¬ 
vincing evidences as a large rock lying directly 
in the water’s course or by some large tree 
whose network of roots around its taproot hold 
the earth together, enabling it to withstand the 
endless tinkering of the current. 
Paddling on toward the site selected in ad¬ 
vance as the camp for the night, we pass many 
enchanting spots where streaks of gold and 
red sunlight penetrate the dense foliage. Quiet 
falls gently upon us as the last rays of the 
setting sun are succeeded by that short but 
lovely time—twilight. The cool air, hidden 
throughout the day in shaded places, seems 
to have been freed, the breeze dies down, and, 
save for the occasional melodious chant of some 
bird in the distance, quiet reigns supreme. It 
is during this beautiful time that we land under 
the deep shadows of a pine grove to pitch camp 
for the night. Our light outfits are very quickly 
laid out, tents set up, a fire started and our 
supper is under way. From now on a musical 
programme breaks the silence, in many in- 
A CURVE TOO VIOLENT TO PERMIT OUR CANOE TO CONTINUE ON ITS WAY UNDIRECTED.’' 
