been amply cleared by his friend, who has erected a suitable memorial to him at Collingwood cemetery.  Peskiwanchow is hardly recognizable in its reformed condition, and the Beaver River, like the Flanders’ lakes, is safer to visit, though otherwise as delightful as ever, than when the Maple Inn was invaded by two knapsacks.  Mr. Bulky is still its hero, and Wilkinson, who does not smoke, has had him up to Tillycot with Mr. Bigglethorpe and without his fishing coat.