summer cottages in this locality, most of which are owned by citizens of Toronto.

Passing through the Narrows we enter Bala Bay, and after a twohours' sail reach the pretty village of Bala, which is situated at the junction of Muskoka Lake and the Muskosh river.

Port Carling is a picturesque little hamlet situated on the Government locks between Lake Rosseau and the Indian River. The Port has a free public library and reading-room with about four hundred volumes of standard works, and the leading Toronto dailies, as well as Harper's, Century and other magazines and

papers.

As the steamer leaving Port Carling emerges from the Indian River into Rosseau Lake, a glimpse of Windermere may be seen across the four-mile intervening stretch of water. About two miles away is the summer residence of Senator W. E. Sanford. The Naiad, the private steam yacht owned by Senator Sanford, cost $10,000, and is one of the fastest boats on the lakes.

The lower part of Lake Rosseau is gemmed with numerous beautiful islets and has been appropriately called Venetia, as the only mode of travel by the many cottagers on these isles is by water. Ferndale here nestles in a deep sheltered bay. From the summer cottages on the high cliffs very extended and pleasing vistas are to be seen.

Chief among the beauties of Rosseau, and reached by a few strokes of the paddle is the romantic Shadow River, where every leaf and twig is reproduced with such startling fidelity as to induce the curious to dip paddle or oar below the surface to distinguish the substance from the shadow. While the colour of Lakes Muskoka and Rosseau is dark, that of Lake Joseph is a beautiful clear

blue, at once refreshing for bathing and of the best drinking quality.

It is a characteristic of the AngloSaxon race, when travelling, either for adventure or mere pleasure, to penetrate as deep as possible into the forest, or to reach the source of river or head of lake, in order to see what is at the other end, or in the hope of reaching some spot, fairer or containing even wilder beauty than the scene just passed. So, as we look around the spacious deck of our staunch craft, as the whistle sounds, and casting off from the wharf the prow again heads northward, we find that a large party of eager and mirthful travellers still remains on board. Our curiosity is soon gratified, for as we swing into mid-stream, or mid-lake, we soon descry in the gathering gloom of evening “a house set upon a hill," the wellknown Summit House, of Port Cockburn, on a bold promontory, half hidden by grand monarch pines and beautiful shade trees.

One of the most noticeable features of Muskoka life is the "shopping." You do not go to the store in Muskoka, but as in the case of Mahomet's Mountain, the store comes to you, and never was any village general store so stocked with the delicacies and necessaries of life as are those of the welcome and wellknown "supply boats," of which there are two plying on the lakes and calling on all the hotels, cottages and camps, delivering goods and taking orders as your butcher and grocer does in town. The stores are shipped at Rosseau and Port Carling, and distributed thence overthe lakes. The daily "supply trips" are often availed of by parties desiring a pleasant sail on the lakes, the boats calling at many islands and passing through channels and scenes of beauty, rarely, if ever, reached by the larger boats.

DEALLY-CO

FROM the St. Lawrence to the Columbia is more than two thousand miles, but in these days when the earth is shrinking so fast, that is only a trifle; so that not long after making up my mind to visit the Big Bend gold region I found myself at Farwell on the Columbia, the nearest point by rail. But here commenced my troubles. Laporte, the gateway to the mines, was only fifty miles up the river. From the mountains opposite, one could almost see it far away in the long valley; but it seemed as hard to reach as the sources of the Nile.

Heartily tired of the ugly and wicked little place, with its log saloons and gambling hells crowded with navvies of all nations eager to spend their hard earnings as fast and as viciously as possible, I wandered one hot morning along the river, and, watching its muddy cur

rent, wished myself back among the Thousand Islands again. Loitering past the much-needed, but little used, "City Bathhouse" floating on its platform of logs, all at once the yellow of fresh-hewn pine struck my eyes, and before me lay a log canoe. Beside it stood three men in their shirt-sleeves, deep in consultation and broiling in the sun. They had just come to the "city" for supplies. In five minutes they were persuaded to go up to Laporte; and in consideration of the sum of $12.50 I became a fourth partner in the dug-out, with the understanding that I should provision myself and do my share of the navigation.

When Farwell learned our intentions it took a sudden interest in us. All the loafers and railway men, and they made up nine-tenths of the city, proceeded to give us advice, often emphasized with profanity. "They were going up to the Big Bend too, when the river went down; but to attempt it now, with the river

the town to avoid curiosity, we made ready to start. The flour and beans and pork, the tent and rolls of blankets, and "dunnage bags" with our few personal effects were stowed in the canoe as she tugged at the rope. The French-Canadian raftsman, whom we had chosen captain, took his place at the stern; an ex-army sergeant and I laid our clumsy oars in the row-locks; the fourth man, letting go the line,

friends who had offered such good advice. There was no help for it but to land, and when we stood on shore again, surely four more disconsolate men were not to be found

in all British Columbia. But we were not to be beaten in this ridiculous way. Slowly we uncoiled the eighty feet of tow-rope, and throwing the end over our shoulders, the sergeant and I trudged off, dragging the dug-out, with the other two men as

crew, against the stiff current. When I had been told the day before that taking passage by canoe meant walking along the shore and pulling the canoe after me, I had laughed at the idea. But even this was not the worst. The strip of muddy beach failed before long and we had to scramble along the top of the high bank, passing the line around projecting bushes and overhanging trees. At one point the crumbling bank gave way under my feet and I found myself up to the hips in the water. Our respect for the Columbia had very much heightened when toward the close of the second day we camped at the foot of the Dalles, only five miles from Farwell. The spot was wonderfully beautiful. The great Columbia valley had steadily narrowed as we advanced, till here the mountains of the Gold Range to the west crowded close against the rugged Selkirks to the east, jostling the angry river into a narrow canyon.

A sharp bend hid the rapids from view, but the hoarse roar and the rags of white foam that came to us, foretold what was ahead. In the eddy where we landed there was a strange and ominous fluctuation of the water, at one moment sweeping in toward shore, then withdrawing till the canoe was stranded in the mud. It seemed like the frightened breathing of a creature just escaped from danger.

Next morning came the first ordeal. Our canoe, too heavy to lift, must be dragged up the rapids. We paddled through the slack water of the eddy and round the rocky point; and there lay our work before us, a mile. of rapids foaming like the sea in a storm, chafing against black projecting rocks, whirling past steep parts of the canyon wall, now rushing in with fury, then smooth and glassy with strange upboilings from below. We had to speak loud to make our voices rise above the din and

shoutings of the waters. We did not stop long to admire, but landed, two of us taking the rope and picking our way along the rocks till we reached a good foothold. Then, bracing ourselves, we hauled the canoe up, hand over hand, while the other two kept her in the right course with poles and breast-line. Point after point was slowly gained, till at last in the turmoil of a heavier fall than usual the breast-line broke and the canoe swung out into the breakers and filled with water. The sergeant and I could no longer hold her. We were dragged over the rocks and were on the point of letting go when fortunately she dropped into an eddy and was once more under control. The oars and paddles were washed away, revolved a minute in the whirling eddy, and then went down stream.

We got

our breath again, bailed out, and watching till the current slackened a little, triumphantly dragged the canoe past the point, into smoother water above. And so the struggle went on till about noon, when the worst was passed; and pulling our battered craft into a little side canyon we gave a wild hurrah for our victory.

Α tramp through the woods brought us once more to the camp at the foot of the rapids, where we dined more sumptuously than usual, on a porcupine which had been so unlucky as to come within range of the Frenchman's rifle. We felt ourselves heroes and imagined ourselves already at Laporte, able to laugh at the prophets of evil in Farwell. The afternoon's work of portaging our effects, which weighed about six hundred pounds, somewhat damped our ardour however. Heavily loaded, we toiled up the steep hillside, following the course of a long overgrown portage path. The last trip was over just as evening came on, and my sympathy for hod-men and pack-mules was never more profound than at that moment.