Last summer I wrote a sketch of a visit, in the neighbourhood of Adolphustown and waxed enthusiastic about the natural beauty I found in that vicinity. Incidentally, I mentioned some of the objects of interest that had been pointed out to me, but because I inadvertently overlooked one schoolhouse and a "purling brook" and credited the pretty little memorial church with brass tablets which it does not yet possess, an article appeared in the Napanee Express accusing me of wearing rose colored spectacles when I passed through that part of the country. As it happens, I had the chance to pass over the same ground again last week, and found the natural beauty of scenery all that I depicted it there. Either I continue to wear the rose colored glasses, or the writer in the Napanee paper wore "blue spectacles." The brass tablets are not in the church; it must have been yellow spectacles that made me confound the substances - but the statement may possibly be prophetic and brass find place on the walls at St. Alban's church in days to come. But I must also admit that the flower bordered cycle path was a delusion and a snare. I had not my wheel with me last year, and, viewed from the roadside, there seemed a nice smooth sidepath, but we tried it last week on wheels, and without exception it is the bumpety-bumpiest road I have covered in my cycling experiences. However, we did not traverse the road between Adolphustown and Young's point for the sake of the ride, but to visit Dr. Young's beautiful wood and there to row across to Glen Island, and we found the game worth the candle, for the view was so fine that we forgave the roads. In lieu of the "purling brook" that we missed seeing last year, we discovered a pretty little water fall coursing its way down the high park before we turned the corner of the road leading towards Dr. Young's wharf. We, who were wheeling, waited until the driving party joined us at this point, and then we passed through the long lane of Dr. Young's orchard and wheeled up and down hills and over stones and grass until we entered the wood. Passing through the gate, the driving party continued their way behind the horses, but we who rode the silent steeds dismounted, and picked our way on foot, through the dense wood where the only sound was the singing of the birds and the lapping of the water against the shore towards which we were approaching. Our arrival on the beach was the signal for a boatman at Glen Island to come across for us, and in a very few minutes our party of eight was divided, the four who were most afraid of snakes being privileged to cross in the first boat, while the others waited for the second trip.

Mr. Dingman, of Toronto, the genial proprietor of the island, met us at the shore and when told that the "snake dreaders" had come over first, he assured us that there was not a snake to be found on the island. At any rate we did not see any that afternoon. When the second boat arrived, we proceeded to inspect the island under Mr. Dingman's pilotage. There, about thirty cottages, varying in size from "The Nest" which accommodates a very small family to the commodious abode that has been known to extend its hospitality to fifteen guests. All the cottages are tastefully decorated, and the verandahs and piazzas are temptingly arranged with gaily colored hammocks, and comfortable rocking chairs. Flags, large and small, floated from almost every cottage, and the nationality of the tenant could be learned at a glance. A pretty cottage, on the extreme point at the head of the island, is occupied by a gentleman from Baltimore, who, with his wife, arrived early in June and intends remaining until September. There are several families from Toronto, from Rochester, from Picton, etc. and one lady and gentleman from Johannesburg, in South Africa. The former told me that she and her husband had left Johannesburg last December, but were at Cape Town upon the arrival of the first Canadian contingent. She said everyone over there spoke of our boys as a splending looking lot of soldiers, and she was very proud of the reception given to the Canadian troops. But, as the writer of "Three Men on wheels" says, "I digress." Mr. Dingman called our attention to the excellent breakwater which surrounds the island. It is a compactly built stone wall, adding to the beauty of the waterfront, as well as guarding the island against the ravages of the waves, which beat about the unprotected beach. A roomy music hall with polished floor is provided for the evening entertainments, which are continually being held, and very good amateur talent is frequently discovered among the island guests. Later in the season, when the well-known camp "le Nid", is in full swing there are informal dances held at the hall on Glen Island. Some of the cottagers bring servants with them and have the cooking done in their own camp, but the majority patronize the refreshment hall which is centrally situated. The room is bright, and airy, and the tables, when we peeped in that afternoon, were daintily arranged, with flowers, etc., and there was that about the place to give an onlooker the idea that the meals would be well served. Before leaving the Island, we were taken to see "Uncle Tom's Cabin," built of logs which originally had place in one of the pioneer cottages near Hay Bay. The cottage had been removed and renovated, so that although it is one of the curiosities of the island with its old fashioned fireplace, and ivy covered piazza, it is also the home of comfort. It is occupied this summer by a Baptist minister and his family. We ran across old acquaintances, on the verandah of a cottage near by, among them a lady and her daughter, former Kingstonians, but now residents of Toronto. They invited us to return to their cottage after we had completed our tour of the island and the stroll had made us ready to appreciate the restful seats we found on their verandah while the hospitable hostess served delicious lemonade to a thirsty crowd. During the row across to the main shore at sunset we made our adieux to Glen Island where we had spent a delightful afternoon, and the return trip to Adolphustown "en bike" was easier because we knew a little more about steering clear of stones and ruts than we did on our first trip over the same rough road.

The next morning we took the early boat for Picton and wheeled out to our present whereabouts - a delightful spot between Bloomfield and Wellington. The wheeling between Picton and Bloomfield is uncommonly good; there is a hard path nearly all the way - not a "flower bordered cycle path," for it is bounded on the right by a barbed wire fence and on the left by a ditch, but the path itself is beautifully smooth and easy. We were a little uneasy at first about the proximity of that fence and ditch, but soon became accustomed to the narrow path and reached our destination without accident although we had a close race with a thunderstorm. A woman on the road informed us that we had better hurry or we would be "catched in the rain," but the rain did not arrive until ten minutes after we had our wheels safely housed and then it came down in torrents to the joy of the whole neighborhood for it was very much needed for farm and orchard. Next week, I may tell of our experiences at Bloomfield, the Sand Banks, Glenora and Wellington, but if this is to catch the mail I must not write any more today.

- Geraldine

Additional Photos of Glen Island