Rafts, however, have not been confined to the purposes of traffic. They have frequently been the means of saving the lives of shipwrecked mariners; but too often they have been the means only of prolonging the wretched existence of those who have ultimately perished at sea. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Turning now from the consideration of rafts, we shall describe canoes. Canoes must, we think, have been invented after rafts. They were formed, as we have said, out of logs, of bark and of skins stretched upon frames of wood. Of ancient canoes we can say little. But it is probable that they were similar in most respects to the canoes used by savage nations at the present time; for man, in his lowest or most savage condition, is necessarily the same now that he was in ancient times. We shall, therefore, take a glance at the canoes of savage nations now existing, and thus shall form a good idea, we doubt not, of what canoes were in days of old. Simplest among them all, perhaps, are the canoes of the North American Indians. These are built of thin laths and ribs of wood, and are covered with the bark of the birch-tree. The sheets of bark are not a quarter of an inch thick. Several sheets are used in the covering of one canoe. They are sewed together with the long pliant roots of the pine, and the seams are rendered tight with gum procured from the same tree. So light are these canoes, that two men can carry on their shoulders one capable of holding eight or ten men, with their provisions, etcetera, for a voyage of many months. They are of various sizes--from the hunting canoe which holds one Indian, to the largest canoe that carries fourteen. They are propelled by short paddles instead of oars. Many and terrible are the risks run by _voyageurs_ who travel through the lakes and rivers of North America in these canoes. The following anecdote is related of a narrow escape made by some fur-traders while descending one of the rivers in the backwoods of the Hudson Bay Territory:--One fine evening in autumn, a north-canoe was gliding swiftly down one of the noble bends in the river referred to. New, beautiful, and ever-changing scenes were being constantly opened up to the view of the _voyageurs_, whose plaintive and beautiful canoe-songs were rolling over the waters. Suddenly the song ceased as the distant roar of a waterfall struck their ears, and the steersmen-- for there are usually two, one in the bow and one in the stern--prepared to land and "_make a portage_,"--that is, carry the canoe and lading past the falls by land, and re-launch and re-load in the smooth water below.