or its
construction: cedar for the slender ribs, birch-bark to cover them,
juniper to stitch together the separate pieces, red pine to give resin
for the seams and crevices. By the lake or river shore, close to his
wigwam, the boat is built;

"And the forest life is in it All its mystery and its magic, All the
tightness of the birch-tree, All the toughness of the cedar, All the
larch's supple sinews. And it floated on the river Like a yellow leaf in
autumn, Like a yellow water-lily."

It is not a boat, it is a house; it can be carried long distances over
land from lake to lake. It is frail beyond words, yet you can load it
down to the water's edge; it carries the Indian by day, it shelters him
by night; in it he will steer boldly out into a vast lake where land is
unseen, or paddle through mud and swamp or reedy shallows; sitting in
it, he gathers his harvest of wild rice and catches his fish or shoots
his game; it will dash down a foaming rapid, brave a fiercely-rushing
torrent, or lie like a sea-bird on the placid water.

For six months the canoe is the home of the Ojibbeway. While the trees
are green, while the waters dance and sparkle, while the wild rice bends
its graceful head in the lake and the wild duck dwells amidst the
rush-covered mere, the Ojibbeway's home is the birch-bark canoe. When the
winter comes and the lake and rivers harden beneath the icy breath of the
north wind, the canoe is put carefully away; covered with branches and
with snow, it lies through the long dreary winter until the wild swan and
the wavy, passing northward to the polar seas, call it again from its
long icy sleep.

Such is the life of the canoe, and such the river along which it rushes
like an arrow.

The days that now commenced to pass were filled from dawn to dark with
moments of keenest enjoyment, every thing was new and strange, and each
hour brought with it some fresh surprise of Indian skill or Indian
scenery.

The sun would be just tipping the western shores with his first rays when
the canoe would be lifted from its ledge of rock and laid gently on the
water; then the blankets and kettles, the provisions and the guns would
be placed in it, and four Indians would take their seats, while one
remained on the shore to steady the bark upon the water and keep its
sides from contact with the rock; then when I had taken my place in the
centre, the outside man would spring gently in, and we would glide away
from the rocky res