The log cabin Democrat., 1909-09-30

Between Tonawanda and Buffalo, the Erie canal runs parallel with the river. Here and there a narrow em- bankment only separates the great natural and the artificial course. At other places the strip of land separat- ing them spreads out and forms marshy wilderness covered with reeds, tall thick kstemmed bulbous wa terplants and stunted trees
 Starting from Tonawanda, the em- bankment is so narrow that there IS place only for the towpath. On the into the water Most of them have collapsed and are decayed beyond re- pair Long rows of rotten piles stick their heads out of the water, old beams shattered and slivered by age dangling by bent and rusty spikes span them. On a few of the docks whose upper planking has remained partly intact lumber lies in piles. A handful of men, the last of the great army of lumbermen who once tolled here necessarily, are busy pulling out thin blanks from a canal boat. The smell of fresh lumber, the broad river on whose current small craft will come and disappear from time to time. the even stretch of low bluffs on the Grand Island shore opposite-light red at the bottom where sand and wa ter meet, deep green on top and the sides where grass, trees and shrubs come to the end of their land travel all tends to impart feeling of solemn spaciousness, stiffness and somno- lence Beyond the old lumber docks the pointed roof of fisherman's hut breaks the straight line of the em- bankment
 On the other side of the canal, on the towpath, which has gradually be- come a highway, creaking farm wag- ons behind trudging horses, on the front seat a bent figure looking idly in front of him, crawl slowly along, or an automobile whizzes past, the machine and the alert driver in front enveloped in cloud of dust. Beyond the highway, farms sloping down to- ward the water form part of this land scape where maritime and rural fea- lures meet and commingle.
 Square built, box like boats move slowly up and down the canal. Their blunted bows ripple the dark water. One of the crew drives the mules i. straining at the end of rope, tramp ling the soft ground on the towpath. The rest of the crew are aboard. A head sticks out of the dark cabin win dow unkempt and gray, the color of trees cast their dark shadow on the towpath and make a dark sharply de- fined splotch on the sunlit road. the mules are unhltched and man and beast take a rest protected from the hot sun. The mules tear twigs and leaves from the foliage overhead or grasp the grass on the roadside with their tough sinewy tongues, crunch ing it between the jaws. Beyond the trees the swamp growth stretches in heavy green pillows for 100 yards or more to the blue surface of the water. The thick hollow stem of an umbelle- ferrous plant towers above the other growth crowned by fiat circle of tiny white flowers From knolls and green little plateaus the branches and foli- age of gnarled, mishapen trees bow down and touch lightly the swaying tops of plants and reeds beneath.
 A narrow arm of the river bores it's way in through this little wilder ness and forms an island called Rat tlesnake Island If rattlesnakes there be. from which this little patch of land has received it's name, they keep well within hiding and do not spread terror to the outside world But wa ter snakes are plentiful here and may be seen by anyone who cares to pene- trate into the heart of this little is land. A fisherman who has been hunt ing frogs, pulls out one from the wa ter. He crushes its head against a stone and throws it on the sand It measures fully four feet long. It opens and shuts it's jaws spasmodically and writhes it's shiny 1.-the body. its tail