THE CURRENT OF MUSKETAQUID. 109 



attention to us as we passed. As we reached 

 the Minute-Man the chill of the western snows 

 came upon us more keenly. The coloring of 

 sky, woods and river was exquisite. The mass 

 of the heavens was deep blue. Upon it flakes of 

 cloud rested, taking from the sun the glory of 

 gold and of crimson. Low down in the east a 

 bank of very dark blue clouds made a rich back- 

 ground for the stems of the gleaming birches and 

 the burnished twigs of the willows. Just where 

 the sun sank, gold and orange and crimson min- 

 gled to form a gateway through which the day 

 was slowly withdrawing. As we stood under 

 the great elms by the Manse the river repeated 

 the story of the sky. Had Lohengrin floated 

 westward over the gilded water towards that 

 gateway I should have bent my head without 

 surprise to catch those few soul-moving notes by 

 which he says " Farewell." 



