THE CURRENT OF MUSKETAQ.UID. 99 



be searching for it. A pair of chickadees passed 

 by and exchanged greetings with the nuthatch. 

 Song sparrows in all directions were singing. 

 Now and then the wild note of a cowbird and 

 the more distant and plaintive call of a meadow 

 starling came to our ears. Robins were abun- 

 dant and noisy. 



As our boat floated down the river and turned 

 a bend towards the arched stone bridge I glanced 

 back and saw a man with a gun standing on a 

 ledge above us. I opened my lips to call my 

 friend's attention to him, when a second glance 

 showed me that it was the Minute-Man, secure 

 on his pedestal and not climbing over the nearer 

 rocks, as he seemed to be. The current under 

 the bridge was very strong, and for the gentle 

 Musketaquid, very swift. It required dexterous 

 paddling to keep a straight course through the 

 central arch. Beyond the bridge the river lost 

 itself in flooded meadows. To one familiar with 

 its rightful banks, a bunch of willows, an elm 

 and a maple or two told the secret of its course. 

 But to me it seemed that we were entering a 

 beautiful lake, which promised to grow wider 

 and fairer the longer we sailed upon it. Com- 

 fortable farmhouses stood upon the higher 

 ground and looked down at the unruly stream. 

 Perhaps they recalled the days before the Lowell 

 dams, when the river was a friend and not a 



