APPENDIX.

Meaux on the Marne—Hammering—Popish forms—Wise dogs—Blocked in a tunnel—A dry voyage—Arbour and garret—Odd fellows—Dream on the Seine—Almost over—No admittance—Charing-cross.

Thereare three hemispheres of scenery visible to the traveller who voyages thus in a boat on the rivers. First, the great arch of sky, and land, and trees, and flowers down to the water's brink; then the whole of this reflected beautifully in the surface of the river; and then the wondrous depths in the water itself, with its animal life, its rocks and glades below, and its flowers and mosses. Now rises the moon so clear, and with the sky around it so black that no "man in the moon" can be seen.

At the hotel we find a whole party of guests for the marriage-dinner of a newly-wedded pair. The younger portion of the company adjourn to the garden and let off squibs and crackers, so it seems to be a good time to exhibit some of my signal lights from my bedroom-window, and there is much cheering as the Englishman illumines thewhole neighbourhood. Next day the same people all assembled for the marriage breakfast, and sherry, madeira, and champagne flowed from the well-squeezed purse of the bride's happy father.

I have noticed that the last sound to give way to the stillness of the night in a village is that of the blacksmith's hammer, which is much more heard abroad than at home. Perhaps this is because much of their execrable French ironwork is made in each town; whereas in England it is manufactured by machinery in great quantities and at special places. At any rate, after travelling on the Continent long enough to become calm and observant, seeing, hearing, and, we may add, scenting all around, the picture in the mind is full of blue dresses, white stones, jingling of bells, and the "cling, cling" of the never idle blacksmith.

This town of Meaux has a bridge with houses on it, and great mill-wheels filling up the arches as they used to do in old London-bridge. Pleasant gardens front the river, and cafés glitter there at night. These are not luxuries but positive necessaries of life for the Frenchman, and it is their absence abroad which—we believe—is one chief cause of his being so bad a colonist, for the Frenchman has only the expression "with me" for "home," and no word for "wife" but "woman."

The cathedral of Meaux is grand and old, andsee how they masquerade the service in it! Look at the gaunt "Suisse," with his cocked-hat kept on in church, with his sword and spear. The twenty priests and twelve red-surpliced boys intone to about as many hearers. A monk escorted through the church makes believe to sprinkle holy water on all sides from that dirty plasterer's brush, and then two boys carry on their shoulders a huge round loaf, the "pain benit," which, after fifty bowings, is blessed, and escorted back to be cut up, and is then given in morsels to the congregation. These endless ceremonies are the meshes of the net of Popery, and they are well woven to catch many Frenchmen, who must have action, show, the visible tangible outside, whatever may be meant by it.

This service sets one a-thinking. Some form there must be in worship. One may suppose, indeed, that perfect spirit can adore God without attitude, or even any sequence or change. Yet in the Bible we hear of Seraphs veiling their bodies with their wings, and of elders prostrate at certain times, and saints that have a litany even in heaven. Mortals must have some form of adoration, but there is the question, How much? and on this great point how many wise and foolish men have written books without end, or scarcely any effect!

The riverside was a good place for a quiet Sunday walk. Here a flock of 300 sheep had come to drink, and nibble at the flowers hanging over the water, and the simple-hearted shepherd stood looking on while his dogs rushed backward and forward, yearning for some sheep to do wrong, that their dog service might be required to prevent or to punish naughty conduct. This "Berger" inquires whether England is near Africa, and how large our legs of mutton are, and if we have sheep-dogs, and are there any rivers in our island on the sea. Meanwhile at the hotel the marriage party kept on "breakfasting," even until four o'clock, and non-melodious songs were sung. The French, as a people, do not excel in vocal music, either in tone or in harmony, but then they are precise in time.

Afloat again next morning, and quite refreshed, we prepared for a long day's work. The stream was now clear, and the waving tresses of dark green weeds gracefully curved under water, while islands amid deep shady bays varied the landscape above.

I saw a canal lock open, and paddled in merely for variety, passing soon into a tunnel, in the middle of which there was a huge boat fixed, and nobody with it. The boat exactly filled the tunnel, and the men had gone to their dinner, so Ihad first to drag their huge boat out, and then the canoe proudly glided into daylight, having a whole tunnel to itself.

At Lagny, where we were to breakfast, I left my boat with a nice old gentleman, who was fishing in a nightcap and spectacles, and he assured me he would stop there two hours. But when I scrambled back to it through the mill (the miller's men amazed among their wholesome dusty sacks), the disconsolate Rob Roy was found to be all alone, the first time she had been left in a town an "unprotected female."

To escape a long serpent wind of the river, we entered another canal and found it about a foot deep, with clear water flowing pleasantly. This seemed to be very fortunate, and it was enjoyed most thoroughly for a few miles, little knowing what was to come. Presently weeds began, then clumps of great rushes, then large bushes and trees, all growing with thick grass in the water, and at length this got so dense that the prospect before me was precisely like a very large hayfield, with grass four feet high, all ready to be mowed, but which had to be mercilessly rowed through.

This on a hot day without wind, and in a long vista, unbroken by a man or a house, or anything lively, was rather daunting, but we had gone too far to recede with honour, and so by dint of pushing and working I actually got the boat through some miles of this novel obstruction (known only this summer), and brought her safe and sound again to the river. At one place there was a bridge over this wet marsh, and two men happened to be going over it as the canoe came near. They soon called to some neighbours, and the row of spectators exhibited the faculty so notable in French people and so rarely found with us, that of being able to keep from laughing right out at a foreigner in an awkward case. The absurd sight of a man paddling a boat amid milesof thick rushes was indeed a severe test of courteous gravity. However, I must say that the labour required to penetrate this marsh was far less than one would suppose from the appearance of the place. The sharp point of the boat entered, and its smooth sides followed through hedges, as it were, of aquatic plants, and, on the whole (and after all was done!), I preferred the trouble and muscular effort required then to that of the monotonous calm of usual canal sailing.

"Canal Miseries."

Fairly in the broad river again the Rob Roy came to Neuilly, and it was plain that my Sunday rest had enabled over thirty miles to be accomplished without any fatigue at the end. With some hesitation we selected an inn on the water-side. The canoe was taken up to it and put on a table in a summer-house, while my own bed was in a garret where one could not stand upright—the only occasion where I have been badly housed; and pray let no one be misled by the name of this abode—"The Jolly Rowers."

Next day the river flowed fast again, and numerous islands made the channels difficult to find. The worst of these difficulties is that you cannot prepare for them. No map gives any just idea of your route—the people on the river itself are profoundly ignorant of its navigation. For instance, in starting, my landlord told me that intwo hours we should reach Paris. After ten miles an intelligent man said, "Distance from Paris? it is six hours from here;" while a third informed me a little further on, "It is just three leagues and a half from this spot."

The banks were now dotted with villas, and numerous pleasure-boats were moored at neat little stairs. The vast number of these boats quite astonished me, and the more so as very few of them were ever to be seen in actual use.

The French are certainly ingenious in their boat-making, but more of ingenuity than of practical exercise is seen on the water. On several rivers we remarked the "walking machine," in which a man can walk on the water by fixing two small boats on his feet. A curious mode of rowing with your face to the bows has lately been invented by a Frenchman, and it is described in theAppendix.

We stopped to breakfast at a new canal cutting, and as there were manygaminsabout, I fastened a stone to my painter and took the boat out into the middle of the river, and so left her moored within sight of the arbour, where I sat, and also within sight of the ardent-eyed boys who gazed for hours with wistful looks on the tiny craft and its fluttering flag. Their desire to handle as well as to see isonly natural for these little fellows, and, therefore, if the lads behave well, I always make a point of showing them the whole affair quite near, after they have had to abstain from it so long as a forbidden pleasure.

Strange that this quick curiosity of French boys does not ripen more of them into travellers, but it soon gets expended in trifling details of a narrow circle, while the sober, sedate, nay, thetriste, Anglian is found scurrying over the world with a carpet-bag, and pushing his way in foreign crowds without one word of their language, and all the while as merry as a lark. Among the odd modes of locomotion adopted by Englishmen, we have already mentioned that of the gentleman travelling in Germany with a four-in-hand and two spare horses. We met another Briton who had made a tour in a road locomotive which he bought for 700l., and sold again at the same price. One more John Bull, who regarded the canoe as a "queer conveyance," went himself abroad on a velocipede. None of these, however, could cross seas, lakes, and rivers like the canoe, which might be taken wherever a man could walk or a plank could swim.

It seemed contrary to nature that, after thus nearing pretty Paris, one's back was now to be turned upon it for hours in order to have a wide,vague, purposeless voyage into country parts. But the river willed it so; for here a great curve began and led off to the left, while the traffic of the Marne went straight through a canal to the right,—through a canal, and therefore I would not follow it there.

The river got less and less in volume; its water was used for the canal, and it could scarcely trickle, with its maimed strength, through a spacious sweep of real country life. Here we often got grounded, got entangled in long mossy weeds, got fastened in overhanging trees, and, in fact, suffered all the evils which the smallest brook had ever entailed, though this was a mighty river.

The bend was more and more inexplicable, as it turned more round and round, till my face was full in the sunlight at noon, and I saw that the course was now due south.

Rustics were there to look at me, and wondering herdsmen too, as if the boat was in mid Germany, instead of being close to Paris. Evidently boating men in that quarter never came here by the river, and the Rob Roy was arara avisfloating on a stream unused.

But the circle was rounded at last, as all circles are, however large they be; and we got back to the common route, to civilization, fishing menand fishing women, and on the broad Marne once more. So here I stopped a bit for a ponder.

And now we unmoor for the last time, and enter the Rob Roy for its final trip—the last few miles of the Marne, and of more than a thousand miles rowed and sailed since we started from England. I will not disguise my feeling of sadness then, and I wished that Paris was still another day distant.

For this journey in a canoe has been interesting, agreeable, and useful, though its incidents may not be realized by reading what has now been described. The sensation of novelty, freedom, health, and variety all day and every day was what cannot be recited. The close acquaintance with the people of strange lands, and the constant observation of nature around, and the unremitting attention necessary for progress, all combine to make a voyage of this sort improving to the mind thus kept alert, while the body thoroughly enjoys life when regular hard exercise in the open air dissipates the lethargy of these warmer climes.

These were my thoughts as I came to the Seine and found a cool bank to lie upon under the trees, with my boat gently rocking in the ripples of the stream below, and the nearer sound of a great city telling that Paris was at hand. "Here,"said I, "and now is my last hour of life savage and free. Sunny days; alone, but not solitary; worked, but not weary"—as in a dream the things, places, and men I had seen floated before my eyes half closed. The panorama was wide, and fair to the mind's eye; but it had a tale always the same as it went quickly past—that vacation was over, and work must begin.

Up, then, for this is not a life of mere enjoyment. Again into the harness of "polite society," the hat, the collar, the braces, the gloves, the waistcoat, the latch-key—perhaps, the razor—certainly the umbrella. How every joint and limb will rebel against these manacles, but they must be endured!

The gradual approach to Paris by gliding down the Seine was altogether a new sensation. By diligence, railway, or steamer, you have nothing like it—not certainly by walking into Paris along a dusty road.

For now we are smoothly carried on a wide and winding river, with nothing to do but to look and to listen while the splendid panorama majestically unfolds. Villas thicken, gardens get smaller as houses are closer, trees get fewer as walls increase. Barges line the banks, commerce and its movement, luxury and its adornments, spires and cupolas grow out of the dim horizon, and thenbridges seem to float towards me, and the hum of life gets deeper and busier, while the pretty little prattling of the river stream yields to the roar of traffic, and to that indescribable thrill which throbs in the air around this the capital of the Continent, the centre of the politics, the focus of the pleasure and the splendour of the world.

In passing the island at Notre Dame I fortunately took the proper side, but even then we found a very awkward rush of water under the bridges. This was caused by the extreme lowness of the river, which on this very day was three feet lower than in the memory of man. The fall over each barrier, though wide enough, was so shallow that I saw at the last bridge the crowd above me evidently calculated upon my being upset; and they were nearly right too. The absence of other boats showed me (now experienced in such omens) that some great difficulty was at hand, but I also remarked that by far the greater number of observers had collected over one particular arch, where at first there seemed to be the very worst chance for getting through. By logical deduction I argued, "that must be the best arch, after all, for they evidently expect I will try it," and, with a horrid presentiment that my first upset was to be at my last bridge, I boldly dashed forward—whirl, whirlthe waves, and grate—grate—my iron keel; but the Rob Roy rises to the occasion, and a rewarding Bravo! from the Frenchmen above is answered by a British "All right" from the boat below.

No town was so hard to find a place for the canoe in as the bright, gay Paris. I went to the floating baths; they would not have me. We paddled to the funny old ship; they shook their heads. We tried a coal wharf; but they were only civil there. Even the worthy washerwomen, my quondam friends, were altogether callous now about a harbour for the canoe.

In desperation we paddled to a bath that was being repaired, but when my boat rounded the corner it was met by a volley of abuse from the proprietor for disturbing his fishing; he was just in the act of expecting the final bite of agoujon.

Relenting as we apologized and told the Rob Roy's tale, he housed her there for the night; and I shouldered my luggage and wended my way to an hotel.

Here is Meurice's, with the homeward tide of Britons from every Alp and cave of Europe flowing through its salons. Here are the gay streets, too white to be looked at in the sun, and thepoupeétheatres under the trees, and the dandies driving so stiff in hired carriages, and the dapper, little soldiers, and the gilded cafés.

Yes, it is Paris—and more brilliant than ever!

I faintly tried to hope, but—pray pardon me—I utterly failed to believe that any person there had enjoyed his summer months with such excessive delight as the captain, the purser, the ship's cook, and cabin boy of the Rob Roy canoe.

Eight francs take the boat by rail to Calais. Two shillings take her thence to Dover. The railway takes her free to Charing Cross, and there two porters put her in the Thames again.

A flowing tide, on a sunny evening, bears her fast and cheerily straight to Searle's, there to debark the Rob Roy's cargo safe and sound and thankful, and to plant once more upon the shore of old England

The flag that braved a thousand miles,The rapid and the snag.

Rigging Ashore

Route of the Canoe

Thosewho intend to make a river voyage on the Continent—and several canoes are preparing for this purpose—will probably feel interested in some of the following information, while other readers of these pages may be indulgent enough to excuse the relation of a few particulars and technical details.

It is proposed, then, to give, first, a description of the canoe considered to be most suitable for a voyage of this sort after experience has aided in modifying the dimensions of the boat already used; second, an inventory of the cargo or luggage of the Rob Roy, with remarks on the subject, for the guidance of future passengers.

Next there will be found some notes upon rocks and currents in broken water; and lastly, some further remarks on the "Kent," and a few miscellaneous observations upon various points.

Although the Rob Roy and its luggage were not prepared until after much cogitation, it is well that intending canoists should have the benefit of whatexperience has since proved as to the faults and virtues of the arrangements devised for a first trip, after these have been thoroughly tasted in so pleasant a tour.

The best dimensions for the canoe appear to be—length, 14 feet [15][XXXVI.]; beam, 26 inches [28], six inches abaft the midship; depth outside, from keel to deck, 9 inches; camber, 1 inch [2]; keel, 1 inch, with a strip of iron, half an inch broad, carefully secured all the way below, and a copper strip up the stem and stern posts, and round the top of each of them.

The new canoe now building will have the beam at the water's edge, and the upper plank will "topple in," so that the cedar deck will be only 20 inches wide.

The "well" or opening in the deck should be 4 feet long [4 feet 6 inches] and 20 inches wide, with a strong combing all round, sloping forward, but not more than 1 inch [2] high at the bow end. This opening should be semicircular at the ends, both for appearance sake and strength and convenience, so as to avoid corners. The macintosh sheet to cover this must be strong, to resist constant wear, light coloured, for the sun's heat, and so attached as to be readily loosened and made fast again, say 20 times a day, and by cords which will instantly break if you have to jump out. In the new canoe this macintosh (the most difficult part of the equipmentto arrange) is 18 inches long, and a light wooden hatch covers the fore part, an arrangement found to be most successful.

A water-tight compartment in the hull is a mistake. Its partition prevents access to breakages within, and arrests the circulation of air, and it cannot be kept long perfectly staunch. There should be extra timbers near the seat.

The canoe must be so constructed as to endure without injury, (1) to be lifted by any part whatever; (2) to be rested on any part; (3) to be sat upon while aground, on any part of the deck, the combing, and the interior.

Wheels for transport have been often suggested, but they would be useless. On plain ground or grass you can readily do without them. On rocks and rough ground, or over ditches and through hedges, wheels could not be employed, and at all times they would be in the way. Bilge pieces are not required. Strength must be had without them, and their projections seriously complicate the difficulties of pushing the boat over a pointed rock, both when afloat and when ashore; besides, as they are not parallel to the keel they very much retard the boat's speed.

The paddle should be 7 feet long (not more), weight, 2 lbs. 9 oz., strong, with blades 6 inches broad, ends rounded, thick, and banded with copper. There should be conical cups of vulcanised India rubber to catch the dribbling water, and, if possible, some plan (not yet devised) for preventing or arresting the drops from the paddle ends, which fall on thedeck when you paddle slowly, and when there is not enough centrifugal force to throw this water away from the boat.

The painter ought to be of the best flexible rope, not tarred, well able to bear 200 lb. weight; more than 20 feet of rope is a constant encumbrance. The ends should be silk-whipped and secured through a hole in the stem post and another in the stern post (so that either or both ends can be readily cast off); the slack may be coiled on deck behind you.

There should be a back support of two wooden slips, each 15 inches by 3 inches, placed like the side strokes of the letter H, and an inch apart, but laced together with cord, or joined by a strip of cloth. Rest them against the edge of the combing, and so as to be free to yield to the motion of the back at each stroke, without hurting the spine. If made fast so as always to project, they are much in the way of the painter in critical times. They may be hinged below so as to fold down as you get out, but in this case they are in the way when you are getting in and wish to sit down in an instant ready for work.

The mast should be 5 feet long, strong enough to stand gales without stays, stepped just forward of the stretcher, in a tube an inch above deck, and so as to be struck without difficulty in a squall, or when nearing trees, or a bridge, barrier, ferry-rope, bank, or waterfall, or when going aground.

The sail, if a lug, should have a fore leach of 3 feet 10 inches, a head of 3 feet 6 inches, and a foot of 4 feet 6 inches; yard and boom of bamboo.

The boat can well stand more sail than this at sea, or in lakes and broad channels, but the foregoing size for a lug is quite large enough to manage in stiff breezes and in narrow rocky tortuous rivers.

A spritsail would be better in some respects, but no plan has, as yet, been suggested to me for instantly striking the sprit without endangering the deck, so I mean to use a lug still.

The material of the sail should be strong cotton, in one piece, without any eyelet or hole whatever, but with a broad hem, enclosing well-stretched cord all round. A jib is of little use as a sail. It is apt to get aback in sudden turns. Besides, you must land either to set it or to take in its outhaul, so as to be quite snug. But the jib does well to tie on the shoulders when they are turned to a fierce sun. The boom should be attached by a brass shackle, so that when "topped" or folded its end closes on the top of the mast. The sails (with the boom and yard) should be rolled up round the mast compactly, to be stowed away forward, so that the end of the mast resting on the stretcher will keep the roll of sails out of the wet. The flag and its staff when not fast at the mast-head (by two metal loops) should fit into the mast-step, and the flag-staff, 24 inches long, should be light, so as not to sink if it falls overboard, as one of mine did.

The floor-boards should be strong, and easily detachable, so that one of them can be at once used as a paddle if that falls overboard. They should come six inches short of the stern end of a light seat, whichcan thus rest on the timbers, so as to be as low as possible, and its top should be of strong cane open-work.

The stretcher should have only one length, and let this be carefully determined after trial before starting. The two sides of its foot-board should be high and broad, while the middle may be cut down to let the hand get to the mast. The stretcher should, of course, be moveable, in order that you may lie down with the legs at full length for repose.

One brass cleat for belaying the halyard should be on deck, about the middle, and on the right-hand side. A stud on the other side, and this cleat will do to make the sheet fast to by one turn on either tack.

1.Useful Stores.—Paddle, painter (31 feet at first, but cut down to 20 feet), sponge, waterproof cover, 5 feet by 2 feet 3 inches, silk blue union jack, 10 inches by 8 inches, on a staff 2 feet long. Mast, boom, and yard. Lug sail, jib, and spare jib (used as a sun shawl). Stretcher, two back boards, floor boards, basket to sit on (12 inches by 6 inches, by 1 inch deep), and holding a macintosh coat. For repairs—iron and brass screws, sheet copper and copper nails, putty and whitelead, a gimlet, cord, string, and thread, one spare button, needle, pins, canvas wading shoes (wooden clogs wouldbe better); all the above should be left with the boat. Black bag for 3 months' luggage, size, 12 inches by 12 inches, by 5 inches deep (just right), closed by three buttons, and with shoulder-strap. Flannel Norfolk jacket (flaps not too long, else they dip in the water, or the pockets are inverted in getting out and in); wide flannel trousers, gathered by a broad back buckle belt, second trousers for shore should have braces, but in the boat the back buttons are in the way. Flannel shirt on, and another for shore. A straw hat is the very best for use—while writing this there are 16 various head covers before me used in different tours, but the straw hat is best of all for boating. Thin alpaca black Sunday coat, thick waistcoat, black leather light-soled spring-sided shoes (should be strong for rocks and village pavements), cloth cap (only used as a bag), 2 collars, 3 pocket handkerchiefs, ribbon tie, 2 pair of cotton socks (easily got off for sudden wading, and drying quickly when put on deck in the sun). Brush, comb, and tooth-brush. Testament, passport (will be scarcely needed this season), leather purse, large (andfull), circular notes, small change in silver and copper for frequent use, blue spectacles in strong case, book for journal and sketches, black, blue, and red chalk, and steel pen. Maps, cutting off a six inch square at a time for pocket reference. Pipe, tobacco-case, and light-box (metal, to resist moisture from without and within), Guide books and pleasant evening reading book. You should cut off covers and all useless pages of books, and every page as read; no needless weight should be carried hundreds of miles;even a fly settling on the boat must be refused a free passage. Illustrated papers, tracts, and anecdotes in French and German for Sunday reading and daily distribution (far too few had been taken, they were always well received). Medicine (rhubarb and court plaister), small knife, and pencil. Messrs. Silver's, in Bishopsgate, is the place for stores.

2.Useless Articles.—Boathook, undervest, waterproof helmet, ventilated cap, foreign Conversation books, glass seltzer bottle and patent cork (for a drinking flask), tweezers for thorns.

3.Lost or Stolen Articles.—Bag for back cushion, waterproof bag for sitting cushion, long knife, necktie, woven waistcoat, box of quinine, steel-hafted knife. These, except the last of them, were not missed. I bought another thick waistcoat from a Jew.

A few remarks may now be made upon the principal cases in which rocks and currents have to be dealt with by the canoist.

Even if a set of rules could be laid down for the management of a boat in the difficult parts of a river, it would not be made easier until practice has given the boatman that quick judgment as to their application which has to be patiently acquired in this and other athletic exercises, such as riding or skating, and even in walking.

The canoist, who passes many hours every day formonths together in the earnest consideration of the river problems always set before him for solution, will probably feel some interest in this attempt to classify those that occur most frequently.

Steering a boat in a current among rocks is not unlike walking on a crowded pavement, where the other passengers are going in various directions, and at various speeds; and this operation of threading your way in the streets requires a great deal of practice, and not a few lessons enforced by collisions, to make a pedestrian thoroughlyau faitas a good man in a crowd. After years of walking through crowds, there is produced by this education of the mind and training of the body a certain power—not possessed by a novice—which insensibly directs a man in his course and his speed, but still his judgment has had insensibly to take cognizance of many varyingdatain the movements of other people which must have their effect upon each step he takes.

After this capacity becomes, as it were, instinctive, or, at any rate, acts almost involuntarily, a man can walk briskly along Fleet-street at 4 p.m., and, without any distinct thought about other people, or about his own progress, he can safely get to his journey's end. Indeed, if he does begin to think of rules or how to apply them systematically, he is then almost sure to knock up against somebody else. Nay, if two men meet as they walk through a crowd, and each of them "catches the eye" of the other, they will probably cease to move instinctively, and, with uncertain data to reason from, a collision is often the result.

As the descent of a current among rocks resemblesa walk along the pavement through a crowd, so the passageacrossa rapid is even more strictly in resemblance with the course of a man who has to cross a street where vehicles are passing at uncertain intervals and at various speeds, though all in the same direction. For it is plain that the thing to be done is nearly the same, whether the obstacles (as breakers) are fixed and the current carries you towards them, or the obstacles (as cabs and carts) are moving, while you have to walk through them onterra firma.

To cross Park-lane in the afternoon requires the very same sort of calculation as the passage across the stream in a rapid on the Rhine.

The importance of this subject of "boating instinct" will be considered sufficient to justify these remarks when the canoist has by much practice at last attained to that desirable proficiency which enables him to steer without thinking about it, and therefore to enjoy the conversation of other people on the bank or the scenery, while he is rapidly speeding through rocks, eddies, and currents.

We may divide the rocks thus encountered in fast water into two classes—(1) Those that aresunk, so that the boat can float over them, and which do not deflect the direction of the surface current. (2) Those that arebreakers, and so deflect the current, and do not allow the boat to float over them.

The currents may be divided into—(1) Those that are equable in force, and in the same direction through the course to be steered. (2) Those that alter their direction in a part of that course.

In the problems before the canoist will be found thecombinations of every degree and variety of these rocks and currents, but the actual circumstances he has to deal with at any specified moment may—it is believed—be generally ranged under one or other of the six cases depicted in the accompanying woodcut.

Chart of Currents and Rocks

In each of the figures in the diagram the current is supposed to run towards the top of the page, and the general course of the canoe is supposed to be with the current. The particular direction of the current is indicated by the dotted lines. The rocks when shaded are supposed to besunk, and when not shaded they arebreakers. Thus the current is uniform in figs. 1, 2, 3; and it is otherwise in figs. 4, 5, 6. The rocks are all sunk in figs. 1, 2, 3, and 5; whereas in figs. 4 and 6 there are breakers. The black line in these figures, and in all the others, shows the proper course of the centre of the boat, and it is well to habituate oneself to make the course such as that this line shall never be nearer to the rock than one-half of the boat's length.

The simplest case that can occur is when the canoe is merely floating without "way" through a current, and the current bears it near a rock. If this be a breaker, the current, being deflected, will generally carry the boat to one side. The steering in such cases is so easy, and its frequent occurrence gives so much practice, that no more need be said about it.

But if the rock be a sunk rock, and if it be not quite plain from the appearance of the water that there is depth enough over the rock to float the boat, then it isnecessary to pass either above the rock, as in fig. 1, or below it, as in fig. 2.

A few days' practice is not thrown away if the canoist seizes every opportunity of performing under easy circumstances feats which may at other times have to be done under necessity, and which would not be so well done if attempted then for the first time.

Let him, therefore, as soon as possible, become adept in crossing above or below a single sunk rock with hisboat's bow pointed to any angle of the semicircle before him.

Next we have to consider the cases in which more than one rock will have to be avoided. Now, however great the number of the rocks may be, they can be divided into sets of three, and in each of the figures 3, 4, 5, 6 it is supposed that (for reasons which may be different in each case, but always sufficient) the canoe has to pass between rocksAandB, and then betweenBandC, but must not pass otherwise betweenAandC.

In fig. 3 the course is belowB, and aboveC, being a combination of the instance in fig. 2 with that in fig. 1.

The precise angle to the line of the course which the boat's longer axis ought to have will depend upon what is to be done next after passing betweenBandC, and hence the importance of being able to effect the passages in fig. 1 and fig. 2 with the axis at any required angle.

We may next suppose that one of the three rocks,sayB, as in fig. 4, is a breaker which will deflect the current (as indicated by the dotted stream lines), and it will then be necessary to modify the angle of the boat's axis, though the boat's centre has to be kept in the same course as before.

It will be seen at once that ifAwere a breaker the angle would be influenced in another manner, and that ifCwere a breaker the angle at which the boat should emerge from the group of rocks would be influenced by the stream fromCalso; but it is only necessary to remind the reader that all the combinations and permutations of breakers and sunk rocks need not be separately discussed,—they may be met by the experience obtained in one case of each class of circumstances.

Fig. 5 represents acircular currentover the group of three rocks. This is a very deceptive case, for it looks so easy that at first it is likely to be treated carelessly. If the boat were supposed to be a substance floating, but without weight, it would have its direction of motion instantly altered by that of the current. But the boat has weight, and as it has velocity (that of the current even if the boat is not urged also by the paddle so as to have "way" through the water), therefore it will havemomentum, and the tendency will be to continue the motion in a straight line, instead of a curve guided solely by the current. In all these cases, therefore, it will be found (sometimes inexplicably unless with these considerations) that the boatinsistsupon passing betweenAandC, where it must not be allowed to go on the hypothesis we have startedwith; and if it effects a compromise by running uponC, this is by no means satisfactory.

This class of cases includes all those in which the river makes a quick turn round a rock or a tongueB, where the boundary formed by the rockAon the outer bend of the stream is a solid bank, or a fringe of growing trees, or of faggots artificially built as a protection against the erosion of the water. This case occurs, therefore, very frequently in some fast rivers, say, at least, a hundred times in a day's work, and perhaps no test of a man's experience and capacity as a canoist is more decisive than his manner of steering round a fast, sharp bend.

The tendency of the canoist in such cases is always to bring the boat round by paddling forward with the outer hand, thereby adding to the "way," and making the force of the current in its circular turn less powerful relatively. Whereas, the proper plan is to back with the inner hand, and so to stop all way in the direction of the boat's length, and to give the current its full force on the boat. Repeated lessons are needed before this is learned thoroughly.

The case we have last remarked upon is made easier if eitherAorCis a breaker, but it is very much increased in difficulty if the rockBis a breaker or is a strong tongue of bank, and so deflects the current outwards at this critical point.

The difficulty is often increased by the fact that the water inside of the curve of the stream may be shoal, and so the paddle on that side strikes the bottom or grinds along it in backing.

When the curve is all in deep water, and there is a pool afterB, the boat ought not to be turned too quickly in endeavouring to avoid the rockC, else it will sometimes then enter the eddy belowB, which runs up stream sometimes for fifty yards. In such a case the absurd position you are thereby thrown into naturally causes you to struggle to resist or stem this current; but I have found, after repeated trials of every plan I could think of, that if once the back current has taken the canoe it is best to let the boat swing with the eddy so as to make an entire circuit, until the bow can come back towardsB(and below it), when the nose of the boat may be again thrust into the main stream, which will now turn the boat round again to its proper course. Much time and labour may be spent uselessly in a wrong and obstinate contest with an eddy.

In fig. 6, where the three rocks are in a straight line, and the middle one is a breaker, an instance is given when the proper course must be kept bybackingduring the first part of it.

We must suppose for this that the canoist has attained the power of backing with perfect ease, for it will be quite necessary if he intends to take his boat safely through several hundred combinations of sunk rocks and breakers. Presuming this, the case in fig. 6 will be easy enough, though a little reflection will show that it might be very difficult, or almost impossible, if the canoist could give only a forward motion to the boat.

To pass most artistically, then, through the groupof rocks in fig. 6 the stern should be turned towardsA, as shown in the diagram, and the passage across the current, betweenAandB, is to be effected solely by backing water (and chiefly in this case with the left hand) until the furthest point of the right of the curve is reached, with the boat's length still as before in the position represented in the figure. Then the forward action of both hands will take the canoe speedily through the passage betweenBandC.

Cases of this sort are rendered more difficult by the distance ofCfrom the point aboveA, where you are situated when the decision has to be made (and in three instants of time) as to what must be done; also, it would usually be imprudent to rise in the boat in such a place to survey the rockCfrom a better position.

If it is evident that the plan described above will not be applicable, because other and future circumstances will require the boat's bow to emerge in the opposite direction (pointing to the right), then you must enter forwards, and must back betweenBandC, so as to be ready, after passingC, to drive forward, and to the right. It is plain that this is very much more difficult than the former case, for your backing now has to be done against the full stream from the breakerB.

In all these instances the action of the wind has been entirely omitted from consideration, but it must not be forgotten that a strong breeze materially complicates the problem before the canoist. This is especially so when the wind is aft; when it is ahead you are not likely to forget its presence. A strong fair wind (thathas scarcely been felt with your back to it) and the swift stream and the boat's speed from paddling being all in one direction, the breeze will suddenly become a new element in the case when you try to cross above a rock as in fig. 1, and find the wind carries you broadside on against all your calculations.

Nor have I any observations to make as to sailing among rocks in a current. The canoe must be directed solely by the paddle in a long rapid, and in the other places the course to be steered by a boat sailing is the same as if it were being merely paddled, though the action of the wind has to be carefully taken into consideration.

In all these things boldness and skill come only after lessons of experience, and the canoist will find himself ready and able, at the end of his voyage, to sail down a rapid which he would have approached timidly, even with the paddle, at the beginning.

But perhaps enough has been said for the experienced oarsman, while surely more than enough has been said to shew the tyro aspirant what varied work he has to do, and how interesting are the circumstances that will occupy his attention on a delightful river tour.

Note on the "Kent."—The narrative of a shipwreck referred to atpage 219has been published 40 years ago, and in many foreign languages, but its circulation is very large at the present time. The followingletter about one of the incidents related in the little book, appeared in the "Times" of March 22, 1866:—

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