come with us from his ferry to the rapids—insisted on our stopping off at his house for dinner; how we did so and found by experience that city ”cream” has a very rich but distant relative known as “country cream” which turns tea into nectar. Nor is there need for a description of how we operated the ferry, said “good—bye” and went downstream-—wind, current and gasolene all in our favor—at a clip of twelve miles an hour and sometimes faster; nor how we sped by the men poling their rafts downstream, giving them time only to greet us with a friendly call and wave of the hand before we were well by; or how we gasolened triumphantly into Fredericton by eight at night, just in time for a nice supper at the hostelry near to the steamboat landing, and to take a little turn on the Promenade before retiring for sleep that came so fast as to almost close our eyes before head could be well cushioned in downy pillow ........ all the details attending these various incidents must be left to the imagination: and also those of the moose we saw in the woods, the wild birds on the wing, the flocks of wild ducks in the water— twenty and more at a time—that allowed us to pass close by without taking fright, the young deer that watched us cun— ningly lrom woodland and thicket, the partridges, the soaring eagles, the leap— ing salmon, and the fishermen hauling in their well-stocked nets.

On the way to Pokiok two small streams are passed, the Indian names of which have been humorously em— bodied in the last two lines of this extract from De Mille :~—

“Sweet maiden of Passamaquoddy, Shall we seek for communion of souls Where the deep Mississippi meanders Or the distant Saskatchewan rolls ?

Ah no ! in New Brunswick we'll find it— A sweetly sequestered nook—

VVhere the sweet gliding Skoodawabskooksis Unites with the Skoodawabskook.”

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