He

but an artist with all of an artist's taste, was greatly pleased with the appearance of the book, and a careful revision of it in its completed form gave him complete satisfaction with his own work in the selection. felt, after a deliberate examination, that there was no poem in the book that, if he were again preparing it, he would feel like excluding. The preparation of such a book, as anyone knows who is at all acquainted with the large amount of existing material for selection, involved not only a need for wise discrimination, the possession of poetic taste and good judgment, but also a great deal of patient labour. The collection of biographical notes of the authors also involved a large correspondence, and a great deal of careful research. In placing before his

countrymen such a representative collection of the cream of Canadian poetry, Dr. Rand performed a task that will, apart from the merit of his own poetical work, give his name a place in the annals of the literature of Canadian poetry. His "Treasury" is a monumental work, and it is exceedingly fortunate that its publication has fallen upon a time when Canada is occupying so prominent a place before the world as she is to-day. It is understood that sometime before his death Dr. Rand had completed a long poem entitled "Song Waves," some stanzas of which were published in the Christmas number of Acta Victoriana last year. It was his intention to have this poem published in a little volume, and we hope that, though he has passed away, the poem will yet be published.

A LOG JAM.

BUMP, bump, bump, thundered the

logs over the Falls, striking on the rocks on the bottom, then shooting half their length into the air, whirling, rolling, turning, churning the water into a mass of foam through which they looked like huge fish at play.

The bumping soon increased into a steady roar, as the run began in earnest. Two men, stationed at the dam above, regulated the run of logs, and kept them from going down cross-wise and thus causing trouble. This dam was some little distance above the Falls, but the space between had been so arranged as to render a jam very improbable; when the logs left the dam they had a straight run over the Falls.

All day the wind had been contrary, blowing the logs up the river where the current was slow, but at night-fall

the wind had died away and the logs were returning. The men, who had been lounging idly around, were called out and given their stations. All was now life and motion for two or three miles along the river.

The "boss was moving about in the darkness, and no one knew where he would appear next. About midnight he came to the Falls; he could see nothing but a mountain of logs. There was a jam. Hastening to the dam, with lurid language he ordered the boom to be run across, and the stop-logs put in. Men were coming from above and below, but owing to the darkness nothing could be done, so the drivers hurried off to gain what sleep they could before morning.

When the earliest streaks of light had begun to appear in the eastern sky a large crowd assembled at the Falls. Thousands of logs were piled in one

huge mass against the wall of rock. As the water was now shut off there were

no Falls. The dam was opened, but the water made no motion among the logs.

In

In every jam there is generally one log called the key; if this be discharged the whole mass rushes down with a roar louder than thunder. It is wonderful how expert these men become at the work, and the accuracy with which they locate the log they wish to move. Dynamite is sometimes used, but not until all other means have failed. this case it was decided to use horses; it is done in this way: the team is hitched to a long rope running through a block, one end is coiled twice around a stump and held by two or three men. To the other end is attached a kind of hook, which is driven into the log; when the horses pull and the log turns the hook slips off; but should the jam suddenly give way, and the hook catch, the men let go the rope which runs through the block, leaving the horses free. Volunteers were called for, to go down and fasten the hook; several men came forward, and one was selected for the perilous task. With hook in hand he goes nimbly down the mass, and drives it into the log pointed out by the boss; then he springs lightly away. The horses are started, the log turns. A quiver goes through the heap, but no more. Again the hook is fastened; again the log turns; but with no better success. The driver goes down a third time and fastens the hook. It falls off. He stoops down to get it. With a mighty roar the whole mass rose up as a wall, then fell forward sending up clouds of spray high above the trees. A mighty crash, a low rumble, and then the steady roar of the Falls was the only sound heard. The water leaped and sparkled in the rising sun, and danced down the slope in glee as though no bruised and mangled body lay in the depths below.

The men stood staring at the river in silence. "Down with the stoplogs," shouted the foreman, and a dozen men sprang to obey, while several hurried down to clear away the

logs as best they could, as the water lowered. Then with long pike-poles they searched for the body of their comrade. By noon he was found; crushed beyond all recognition. A rough coffin was soon prepared, and in the little churchyard by the river he was laid to rest Scores of rough men gathered around the grave, listening with uncovered heads to the solemn words of the minister, as he committed the "dust to dust," and warned the living of their own day of dissolution. While over all, like a sad and plaintive requiem, resounded the mournful roar of the Falls.

The old clap-board schoolhouse stood at the bottom of the hill. A brook meandered through the playground. It became wider and deeper in the meadow farther down. At the bridge it was deepest. There the willows stretched out over the water. If a person leaned too far, in reaching for a straight, lithe gad to whip a youngster with, he would fall in.

The schoolhouse was divided into two. I taught the big ones in the big room; she, the little ones in the little

When almost within sight of the bridge, I heard a splash. Hurrying towards the willows, I saw the schoolmistress over head in the clear water. I plunged in.

As she caught her breath she gasped: "How did you happen to come?" "Because I like you," I answered, holding her more closely in my arms. "Had you been any other girl, I wouldn't have budged an inch. But what on earth were you doing here?" She blushed, and the long, dark lashes shaded the azure of her eyes.

"I came to get a stick to whip Johnnie."

The water was warm, but we both were sociably wet.

I

By detaining school' a half-hour we had yet time to hurry to the house and change our clothing. I was ready first, as her hair would not readily respond to the application of tongs. went around to the kitchen, and told the farmer's wife that if she would give me a cake of maple sugar I'd try a new mode of punishing at school. She smiled almost audibly as she handed it to me.

Toward four that afternoon I went into the little room and told Johnnie to come to me when the other children had gone.

He came, looking very doubtful. "Well, Johnnie," I said, "you have been into mischief again." Yes, ma-sir."

66

"What did your teacher say?" "Please sir, this morning she said she would get you to whip me, but this afternoon she called me up, and kissed me, and gave me a cake of maple sugar."

"Well, Johnnie," I replied, "I have great confidence in your teacher. I believe that I can do nothing better than follow her example."

I handed him the sugar.

As he closed the outer door behind him, through an open window I heard : must look after the

"Some one child; wait."

I rose in my chair, and saw the man who called that morning standing in the side doorway.

Next moment the schoolmam came and asked if I would give her an order on the trustees for the past two months' salary. She took it and gave it to the He went away.

man.

I waited a few minutes. As I did not hear her go out, I went over to the door that connected the two schoolrooms. She was leaning over her desk, her face buried in her hands. She was not sobbing loudly.

I went in. She told me a sad story; which I promised never to repeat. An hour later she wrote her resignation.

Two trustees called next day, shortly after school was dismissed.

"We thought she would stay the next six months anyway," said one. "The scholars all liked her," said the other.

She stood on one side of the desk; I opposite.

"Are you wanting more salary?" She blushed slightly; then raised her eyes to me.

"Perhaps you don't agree?"

"It is not that," I answered; "but I must admit that we have decided it