"Hardly," he answered with a smile. "They fill the river for twenty-seven miles along its course. Most of them are mere rocky islets, covered generally with stunted hemlocks and cedar trees down to the water's edge. Some are square miles in extent and others only a few yards."
"And how wide is the river where they are, papa?"
"It varies from two to nine miles in width. Canoes and small boats may pass safely among all the islands, and there is a deep channel for steamboats and large vessels which, having a rocky bottom, never varies in depth or position."
"Do they belong to our country or to Canada, papa? I ought to know, but, if I ever did, I have forgotten."
"The boundary line, which was determined in 1818, passes among them. Grindstone, Carleton, and Wells are the names of the largest of those belonging to the United States, and Grand and Howe of those belonging to Canada."
"And there are a good many stories connected with them, are there not, papa?"
"Yes; perhaps one of these days we will hunt them up; for I know that my children—to say nothing of older people—are fond of stories."
"Especially when told by our father, who is sure to make them interesting," she said, with an upward glance into his face that spoke volumes of love and admiration.
"Ah, such, it seems, is the opinion of my partial eldest daughter, who can see nothing in her father but what is good and admirable."
"A weakness equally shared by his wife," remarked a clear, sweet voice in their rear.