double power."

The next day brought both the beautiful shores of the St. Lawrence in
sight, and Flora remained chained to her post on the deck from morning
until night; her eyes never weary of dwelling upon the glorious river,
its romantic islands, and magnificent banks.

What a noble panorama the St. Lawrence would make--to follow all the
windings of this matchless stream, from Grosse Ile, through its chain of
inland seas! Perhaps no country in the world could present finer
subjects for such a work; with water so pure--skies so blue--rock,
mountain and forest so vast--and cities, towns and villages along its
shores placed in such picturesque and imposing situations. A pictorial
map of Canada could alone give a just idea of the beauty and importance
of this great country to the good folks at home. Then consider the
adjuncts of such a landscape--the falls of Montmorency, and God's
masterpiece, Niagara. The panorama of its Upper and Lower Mississippi
would lose half their beauty, when contrasted with the panorama of the
St. Lawrence, with its tumultuous rapids and thousand isles.

An old friend of Mrs. Lyndsay, who had visited almost every country, had
assured her that nothing he had ever seen during his travels through the
world surpassed in grandeur and beauty the shores of the St. Lawrence,
Rio Janeiro alone excepted; and so well had he described every
remarkable scene on their passage up the river, that Flora instantly
recognised the spot from the vivid pictures he had given her of them
from memory.

How she longed to land upon the lovely islands which continually glided
past them! Some of these were partly cultivated, and neat white
farm-houses peeped out from the midst of orchards glowing with ripe
fruits, and the first gorgeous tints of the Canadian fall. On the south
shores of the river, the wheat was still standing in the sheaf upon the
yellow uplands, and the forest and the harvest changing colour, and
blending their rich hues into a splendid harmony of the bright and
beautiful. As if to atone for the long, cold winter (and yet how
charming that winter is!) Nature puts on royal robes to cover her decay;
and autumn, which in other countries is so melancholy and sober in her
russet dress, is, in Canada, the most attractive and delightful season
of the four. Who does not prefer it to the warm, humid, leafless
spring?--to the blazing sun, cloudless skies, and enervating heat of
summer?--or to the cold, bright b