Unplagued
autumn woods; it seemed as though all the very best things in the
land were assembled and the bad things all left out, so that our
final memories should have no evil shade.
The scene comes brightly back again, the sheltering fir-clad shore,
the staunch canoe skimming the river's tranquil reach, the water
smiling round her bow, as we push from this, the last of full five
hundred camps.
The dawn fog lifts, the river sparkles in the sun, we round the last
of a thousand headlands. The little frontier town of the Landing
swings into view once more - what a metropolis it seems to us now! - The
Ann Seton lands at the spot where six months ago she had entered
the water. Now in quick succession come the thrills of the larger
life - the letters from home, the telegraph office, the hearty
good-bye to the brave riverboys, and my long canoe-ride is over.
I had held in my heart the wanderlust till it swept me away, and
sent me afar on the back trail of the north wind; I have lived in
the mighty boreal forest, with its Red-men, its Buffalo, its Moose,
and its Wolves; I have seen the Great Lone Land with its endless
plains and prairies that do not know the face of man or the crack
of a rifle; I have been with its countless lakes that re-echo nothing
but the wail and yodel of the Loons, or the mournful music of the
Arctic Wolf.
