by very thin ribs and cross-bars of cedar, curiously carved and framed together.  It is turned up, at either end, like a gondola, and the sides and gunwales fancifully painted.  The whole structure is light, and was easily carried by two men on their shoulders; yet will bear a weight of more than a ton on the water.  It is moved with cedar paddles, and the Canadians who managed it, kept time in their strokes, and regulated them to the sonorous cadence of some of their simple boat songs.  Our party consisted of several ladies and gentlemen.  We carried the elements of a pic-nic.  We moved rapidly.  The views on all sides were novel and delightful.  The water in which the men struck their paddles was pure as crystal.  The air was perfectly exhilarating from its purity.  The distance about three leagues.  We landed a few moments at Point aux Pins, to range along the clean sandy shore, and sandy plains, now abounding in fine whortleberries.  Directly on putting out from this, the broad view of the entrance into the lake burst upon us.  It is magnificent.  A line of blue water stretched like a thread on the horizon, between cape and cape, say five miles.  Beyond it is what the Chippewas call Bub-eesh-ko-be, meaning the far off, indistinct prospect of a water scene, till the reality, in the feeble power of human vision, loses itself in the clouds and sky.  The two prominences of Point Iroquois and Gross Cape are very different in character.  The former is a bold eminence covered with trees, and having all the appearance of youth and verdure.  The latter is but the end, so to say, of a towering ridge of dark primary rocks with a few stunted cedars.  The first exhibits, on inspection, a formation of sandstone and reproduced rocks, piled stratum super stratum, and covered with boulder drifts and alluvion.  The second is a massive mountain ridge of the northern sienite, abounding in black crystaline hornblende, and flanked at lower altitudes, in front, in some places, by a sort of trachyte.  We clambered up and over the bold undulations of the latter, till we were fatigued.  We stood on the highest pinnacle, and gazed on the “blue profound” of Superior, the great water or Gitchegomee of the Indians.  We looked down far below at the clean ridges of pebbles, and the transparent water.  After gazing, and looking, and reveling in the wild magnificence of views, we picked our way, crag by crag, to the shore, and sat down on the shining banks of black, white, and mottled pebbles, and did ample justice to the contents of our baskets of good things.  This always restores one’s spirits.  We forget the toil in the present enjoyment.  And having done this, and giving our last looks at what has been poetically called the Father of Lakes, we put out, with paddles and song, and every heart beating in unison with the scene, for our starting-point at Ba-wa-teeg, or Pa-wa-teeg, alias Sault Ste. Marie.  But the half of my story would not be told, if I did not add that, as we gained the brink of the rapids, and