IN my Indian canoe

There was room enough for two.

So it happened scarce a spot

On the river we knew not.

Every inlet where we came

Answered to its Indian name.

Oft I paddled up the stream,

Where in summer willows dream.

Hid in shadows we would sing

For the echoing shores to fling

Broken words to us again,

But the music in a strain

As if Dryads in the wood

All its meaning understood.

Or in moonlight would we drift

(Watching hazel-bushes shift

Into shapes unknown and strange,

And the drooping elm-trees change

Into giants tall and fierce,

Fighting with their giant spears),

Till the sweet tones of the bell

On the solemn stillness fell,

And the yellow moon looked down

On the shadow-haunted town.

Then, on other days we'd go

To the islands miles below,

And spend joyous afternoons,

Listening to the laughing loons,

Watching black-winged crows flap by,

Or the long-legged heron fly,

Slowly rising from his nook

In some winding, weedy brook.

On the elms the locust shrilled,

And the balmy air was filled

With the breath of new-mown hay

Brought from meadows far away.

And when low the red sun sank,

And the maples on the bank

Long shadows cast athwart the stream,

Then we'd see gold windows gleam,

Then the housewife's horn we'd hear,

Mocked by echoes far and near,

Followed by the answering call

Made by distance musical.

Often would we with our book

Seek a hidden, shady brook.

While the sunbeams flecked the stream

Would we dream and read and dream.

On the banks blue hairbells hung,

And sweet honeysuckles swung

Loaded down by buzzing bees.

Robins sang among the trees,

And the shadows lurked below,

Waiting for the day to go.

In my Indian canoe

There was room enough for two;

I was one; the other - who?

Tell me, don't you wish you knew?

N. H. D.ERRATUM. - In the "American Notes," last week, under the heading "Harvard College," for "letting the Memorial Hall for a common stable" read "common's table," - a very material difference. - London Inquirer.