empt one to believe that it had been a dream, if the
pools of water in the hollows of the rocks and the dampness of blanket
or oil-cloth had not proved the sun a humbug. Our general distance each
day would be about thirty-two miles, with an average of six portages. At
sunset we made our camp on some rocky isle or shelving shore: one or two
cut wood, another got the cooking things ready, a fourth gummed the
seams of the canoe, a fifth cut shavings from a dry stick for the fire;
for myself, I generally took a plunge in the cool, delicious water;
and soon the supper hissed in the pans, the kettle steamed from its
suspending stick, and the evening meal was eaten with appetites such
as only the _voyageur_ can understand.

Then when the shadows of the night had fallen around and all was silent,
save the river's tide against the rocks, we would stretch our blankets
on the springy moss of the crag, and lie down to sleep with only the
stars for a roof.

Happy, happy days were these,--days the memory of which goes very far
into the future, growing brighter as we journey farther away from them;
for the scenes through which our course was laid were such as speak in
whispers, only when we have left them,--the whispers of the pine-tree,
the music of running water, the stillness of great lonely lakes.

A FINE SCENIC ROUTE.

HENRY T. FINCK.

[From Henry T. Finck's "The Pacific Coast Scenic Tour" we
select the following description of the Canadian Pacific
Railway route, which is acknowledged to possess a long
succession of grand and beautiful scenery, unequalled by any
other railroad route in America. The description is too long a
one to be given in full, and for further acquaintance with it
the reader must be referred to the book itself.]

After leaving Vancouver, and before reaching Westminster, the train for
some time runs along Burrard Inlet, on which is situated Fort Moody,
another town which had hoped to be chosen as terminus, and actually did
enjoy that privilege for a short time. The shores of the inlet are
beautifully wooded, and some of the trees are of enormous size. At the
crossing of Stave River a fine view is obtained of Mount Baker, looking
forward to the right; and the bridge over the Harrison River, where it
meets the Frazer, also affords a picturesque view. For the next fifteen
or sixteen hours the train follows the banks of the Frazer River and its
tributaries, and thi