kept to the left of the river, ran under the bridge, round an island, and then dashed through a splendid little rapid, right in front of the city, and ran across to a boat-house.
This reminds me of one of the greatest pleasures of canoeing on the Susquehanna—the courtesy and kindness one meets from every one, farmers, townsmen, rivermen, or railroaders. Only one class of men want to take advantage—the expressmen. They are the same everywhere—exorbitant, if not dishonest, in charge, and careless in work. It is not to the credit of the express system that a traveller must truly say so harsh a thing.
At Owego, or Ah-we gah, as we found its old Indian name to be, we went to the hotel for dinner. We were roughly dressed, sunburnt, and hungry. The landlord, an old man with a singularly pleasant face, observed us as we ate. Then he went out, probably to see the canoes, which were down at the wharf before his house.
"Having a good time, are you?" he said, as he returned.
"Yes," we told him; and we outlined our plan for him as we went on eating his excellent dinner.
"Forty years ago," said the old man, "I went down the Ohio River in a dug-out, just for fun, as you are doing. We had a splendid time; but
