Presently, over the edge, where the foam and spray were springing up into sunshine, our canoe suddenly appeared, and had hardly appeared, when, as if by one leap, it had passed the rapid, and was gliding in the stiller current at our feet.  One of the muskrateers had relieved Cancut of his head-piece, and shot the lower rush of water.  We again embarked, and, guided by the trappers in their own canoe, paddled out upon Lake Pepogenus.

LOUIS LEBEAU’S CONVERSION.

  Yesterday, while I moved with the languid crowd on the Riva,
  Musing with idle eyes on the wide lagoons and the islands,
  And on the dim-seen seaward glimmering sails in the distance,
  Where the azure haze, like a vision of Indian-Summer,
  Haunted the dreamy sky of the soft Venetian December,—­
  While I moved unwilled in the mellow warmth of the weather,
  Breathing air that was full of Old-World sadness and beauty,
  Into my thought came this story of free, wild life in Ohio,
  When the land was new, and yet by the Beautiful River
  Dwelt the pioneers and Indian hunters and boatmen.

  Pealed from the campanile, responding from island to island,
  Bells of that ancient faith whose incense and solemn devotions
  Rise from a hundred shrines in the broken heart of the city;
  But in my reverie heard I only the passionate voices
  Of the people that sang in the virgin heart of the forest. 
  Autumn was in the land, and the trees were golden and crimson,
  And from the luminous boughs of the over-elms and the maples
  Tender and beautiful fell the light in the worshippers’ faces,
  Softer than lights that stream through the saints on the windows of
    churches,
  While the balsamy breath of the hemlocks and pines by the river
  Stole on the winds through the woodland aisles like the breath of a
    censer. 
  Loud the people sang old camp-meeting anthems that quaver
  Quaintly yet from lips forgetful of lips that have kissed them: 
  Loud they sang the songs of the Sacrifice and Atonement,
  And of the end of the world, and the infinite terrors of Judgment;
  Songs of ineffable sorrow, and wailing compassionate warning
  For the generations that hardened their hearts to their Saviour;
  Songs of exultant rapture for them that confessed Him and followed,
  Bearing His burden and yoke, enduring and entering with Him
  Into the rest of His saints, and the endless reward of the blessed. 
  Loud the people sang:  but through the sound of their singing
  Brake inarticulate cries and moans and sobs from the mourners,
  As the glory of God, that smote the apostle of Tarsus,
  Smote them and strewed them to earth like leaves in the breath of the
     whirlwind.