spiritual that one was not surprised that strange tongues spoke a
strange language to the lonely boy. He has wandered on until his feet
are sore and a feeling of weariness steals over him; he looks around
and finds that he is no nearer than when he started to the bright world
which the clergyman had talked about. So he resolves to turn, to go back
to the place where he had seen the minister, and ask him to show him the
way. Back he turns on his long journey. Step by step, slowly and wearily
he trudges along, his eyes have grown larger, his skin more transparent,
and each day finds him a little weaker, but he feels that he must go on.
Strange voices are speaking to him more frequently than ever, and his
dreams are filled with visions of the new world of which he has heard,
and now he has almost reached his journeys end, but it requires a great
effort for him to move, he is so foot-sore and weary, but the voices are
urging him on and at last the building is in sight. He drags himself
wearily to the door. It is night and the door is open--the place is
deserted, but he throws himself down on the floor with a sigh of
contentment. The next morning they found him with his hands clasped and
face upturned to the skies. The blue eyes were opened wide, the lips
parted in a happy smile, and poor little lonely Ned had found the
"bright world."

The Poet says:

So many abler tongues and pens than mine have chosen the St. Lawrence as
a theme on which they have written love songs, romances and legends,
that it would ill-become me to even attempt the subject. A writer, many
years ago, while paddling up the river and among the Islands, expressed
himself thus: "As the sun set below the islands the full moon rose in
all her beauty. The light evening breeze had subsided into a calm; not a
breath of air ruffled the glassy waters.