Next morning he was "as good as his word;" but we had with us the president of the Canoe Club, who ran down the intricate channel of the falls, readily and pleasantly chatting all the while. He was in a light canoe, which he handled splendidly.
"A few years ago, before we began canoeing here," he said, "every one dreaded these falls. Nobody ever ran them but the lumbermen. Now we come down in our canoes for fun, and drag the boats back alongshore."
At the bottom of the falls, which are more portentous in name and aspect than in descent or velocity, we entered tidal water. No more rapids or rifts to Philadelphia, or the sea. The kindly Trenton canoeman left us with a manly grip that was pleasant to remember; and, with the wind and tide against us, we started for Philadelphia, forty-five miles away.
Below Trenton the Delaware is uninteresting for canoemen. We were so used to swift water that we seemed to be anchored while paddling under adverse circumstances. We stopped at Florence that night, and next day shipped our canoes on a river steamer, and ran down to Philadelphia.
Looking back, we salute the Delaware with love and admiration. It has filled our minds with
