and chopped against the walls of the little rooms
within. Another stroke of the oars, and the
prow of the boat was absolutely thrust in at
the door of the cottage.

The boat stuck in the doorway, and I looked
around me. Never was a more desolate place
seen. The water was in occupation; it made
the flooring of the rooms—for all the doors
were open—and I could see glimpses of the
different rooms on this lower story. A
medicine bottle was left on the chimney-piece of
the chief apartment, a yellow paper fly-catcher
hung from the ceiling, and close to where I was
perched was a coloured print of the Great
Eastern! Surely the spirit of Hogarth himself
must have risen in the night and hung it there!

After I had looked and listened long enough
we pushed away from the cottage, and left it
with the water still chopping up against the
walls of its rooms, and the door still waving
slowly backwards and forwards as the current
chose to sway it.

By the position of a little bridge, part of
which showed above the water, and by other
indications, I could make out where the road lay
by which the thirsty traveller used to approach
the Wheatsheaf alehouse, which we next drew
near. We struck as we were trying to get close
up to it, and were constrained to be satisfied without
a nearer view; and indeed the Wheatsheaf
was so shut up and barred that there would have
been nothing gained by a closer approach. A
more unconvivial and tee-total aspect than that
presented by this deserted public, I never
witnessed. The iron by which the signboard had
swung, projected like a gibbet. The bar-window
was shut up with shutters, so was that of the
parlour; the only sign of life about the place
was in a sort of straw-yard at the back, which,
having been either built of an extraordinary
height, or, being so buoyant as to float bodily on
the flood, was safe and dry; here a solitary hen,
was scratching and picking in the straw, as if with
the desperate hope of finding a stranded worm.

Leaving this feathered Crusoe to pursue her
investigations, in which she was so occupied
that she took no sort of notice of our approach,
we started once more on our cruise: the church,
which we could now see plainly, being the end
of our journey.

The building comprised a small school-house
as well as a church, and I could not help thinking
as we drew near it, how glad the children
must have been of the flood which gave them
such a long holiday, and how they must have
contemplated the engineers who were trying to
shut out the waters, with intense disgust. Close
to the school was a little drying-ground for linen,
and the clothes-poles were still standing. So
was the flag-staff, from which, in this primitive
country, a flag floats when it is service-time.
For, in that flat district, the flag can be seen
much farther off than the sound of the bell
could reach. I wish this excellent idea could
be carried out in this metropolis.

We rowed through the gate (it was a tight
fit for our boat) of the enclosure in which the
church stood, and, as there was here some
three or four feet of water, we managed to
get close up to the building, so that we could
see in at the windows. The water was not
so high, though, as it had been a few days
before, when one of the men in the boat with
me had been to the church with other authorised
persons to remove the communion-plate to some
place of safety. The man who had unlocked the
church door on that occasion had to plunge his
hand deep under water to get at the keyhole,
and, when the door was open, waded breast-high
through the church to get to the spot where the
plate was kept. There was water enough now to
float the contents of the little chapel, and
wonderful the interior of the building looked. The
pulpit seemed to have been upset, to judge from
the appearance of some large object which floated
longwise in the water, and as to the benches,
they were tumbled hither and thither in all
conceivable ways, but all afloat. And there, in a
place by itself, but floating too, on a bench
which was piled up on the top of others, was
a great white bundle, which the men in the boat
told me was no other thing than the surplice.

I could have lingered around these insulated
buildings for an hour, peering in at windows and
looking out for all sorts of strange features
connected with this strange scene. But the evening
was advancing, and it was necessary to set
out on the return voyage. The grey light was
more subdued now, and the great lake and the
objects which rose above its waters wore a look
of mystery, which greatly added to their wild
beauty. One felt that soon all would be
shrouded in night, and the thought made one
shudder, and look with desire towards the firm
land on the other side of the Middle Level Cut.

"Why, some people, now, would make a
history of this here," said one of the men who
were with me in the boat.

Upon this hint, I have spoken.

A HOME AMONG THE TAMARACKS.

IF I were to say that there exists a kind of
fence, in which no tool whatever, except an axe
and a beetle and wedges, is used from first to
last, from the standing timber till completion;
in which there is no nail nor particle of iron-work
nor fastenings of any description; which
is very quickly and easily put up, and as readily
removed from one place and set up in another;
which is efficient against a small pig, and would
answer for a deer park; which can be opened at
any spot that may be most convenient for the
passage of a waggon or sleigh, and immediately
closed up again precisely the same as before;
which (as follows from all this) is not at all
costly, and which neither throws any hurtful
shadow nor harbours weeds or vermin—if I were
to say all this I think I should not entirely
escape his incredulity. Nevertheless, all this is
strictly true of the snake fence of Canada, when
well constructed. It is a remarkable instance
of ingenuity, and of adaptation of the means of
the country to the end required.