The Story of Vanishing Brook 



Madeline Avery Livermore 



One would never guess, from visiting the source of our brook, 

 that it had ever done a great work. No matter how tired you 

 were, you would surely be rested after spending an hour or so by 

 the side of this little brook. The whole atmosphere is so calm and 

 peaceful, the sky is so blue and the grass so green. 



There are two small branches which unite not far from their 

 origin to form this stream. The left branch begins near a fence, 

 with two wild cherry trees to mark its source. It is a sluggish 

 little stream — with first a little pool, and then a tiny silver thread 

 till it reaches another pool. It is doing practically no work now, 

 but that it because its days of work are over. For the old banks 

 are deeply cut, showing that one day this little stream was carrying 

 a big load. The left bank is higher than the other. There are 

 many big fiat stones in the brook, and occasionally a little dam or a 

 plank which show that the children play in it, and that grown 

 folks cross it too. 



There are grasshoppers and cabbage butterflies along the banks, 

 water-striders in the water, and the air is full of the fragrance of 

 apple blossoms from some nearby trees. Up in the very top of 

 one of these trees is a bobolink calling to his mate. 



The right branch has some apple trees to mark its source. This 

 little stream does not flow thru comparatively level ground as the 

 other one, but flows down a rather steep grade, and is still doing 

 work in the spring, for there is a great deal of fresh erosion. This 

 stream is not sluggish and marshy as the other. There are big flat 

 stones here also. Some cows are grazing nearby, and just thinking 

 of coming down for a drink. 



After these little branches unite, the valley becomes more and 

 more marshy, until the stream itself finally disappears almost 

 entirely. And here we find cat-tails, with a red-winged blackbird 

 swinging on the very top of one. At the right is a big lone pine, 

 looking very picturesque against the sky. When the brook appears 

 again it is for only a little ways, for it soon reaches another swamp 

 and this time it is a big one just full of cat-tails, beset with skunk 

 cabbage which is just unrolling its big leaves near the edges. At 

 the left is a beautiful hawthorn all in bloom. The grass on the 



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