I smile now remembering how I asked George if be thought
I should see anything so fine as this rapid on, the rest of my
journey.
Splendid as the rapids were, it was a great relief to reach smooth
water again, though the current was still swift. Passing a bend
half a mile above we came in sight of a beautiful wooded island,
and saw that we had reached the edge of the burned-over country.
It would scarcely be possible to convey any adequate idea of the
contrast. The country had been grand with a desolate sort of
grandeur softened by the sunshine and water and the beautiful
skies, but now the river with its darkly-wooded hills was not only
grand but was weirdly beautiful as well.
When we had passed Mabelle Island the hills seemed to close round
us and were covered with tall, pointed evergreens, so dark in
colour as sometimes to seem almost black. Always these have been
beautiful to me, with a mysterious kind of beauty which sends
through me feelings akin to those I had when as a child I dreamed
over the wonderful pictures the Frost King left in the night on the
window panes. The river ahead was too rough to proceed along the
south shore, and the men decided to cross.
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