Lawrence, and Mississippi; brave light-hearted fellows, whose singing
days were over.
By the light of coming events there was something weird and pathetic in
this Arcadian air, sung as it was by her. Her voice was a mezzo-soprano
of rare bracing quality, and she had enough natural sensibility to give
the antique refinement of the words a wistful charm, particularly
apparent in these verses:
"Ah, cruel Prince, my heart you break,
In killing thus my snow-white drake.
"My snow-white drake, my love, my King,
The crimson life-blood stains his wing.
"His golden bill sinks on his breast,
His plumes go floating east and west--
"En roulant ma boule:
Rouli, roulant, ma boule roulant,
En roulant ma boule roulant,
En roulant ma boule!"
As she finished the song we rounded an angle in the Whi-Whi. Ahead of us
lay the Snow Rapids and the swift channel at one side of the rapids
which, hurrying through a rocky archway, was known as the Devil's Slide.
There was one channel through the rapids by which it was perfectly safe
to pass, but that sweep of water through the Devil's Slide was sometimes
a trap of death to even the most expert river-men.
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