THE COUNTRY. 167

 bark begins. The canoe rolls and dips as
 the gazer leans upon its side and looks down
 into the sky and branches; indeed a canoe
 so adapts itself to the motion of the occu-
 pant that it seems to be part of the man
 himself, he feels vaguely, half fearfully, that
 he has no support, that he is floating in these
 repeated heavens, with infinite space below as
 well as above. A man who takes the paddle in
 his hands for the first time, here on the creek,
 achieves that very rare experience, a new
 sensation. He understands the exhilaration of
 a bird's flight, or the buoyant rest of a fish in
 dim sea-depths; he knows the wonder of the
 soul without a body, born into the mystery
 and stillness of death.
 This, experience cannot come in a row-boat,
 which is too material, one might almost say too
 dogmatic; a row-boat, in fact, has all the self-
 consciousness of civilization, for only civiliza-
 tion could make a man content to turn his back
 in the direction of his progress with the assur-
ance of safety. His canoe, on the contrary,-
and it will be observed that it should be a birch