A River View. 



not been long since the stream was ice-bound ; when 

 not the narrowest line of bright blue water glinted 

 in the fitful sunlight of a half-cloudy day. The 

 river then seemed dreaming of by-gone centuries, 

 when the plaything of a glacier; but to-day all 

 was glitter, or black as forbidding night, save 

 where the short-lived waves with downy crests 

 stood a brief moment in the golden sunshine, 

 waves of marvellous beauty that brightened the 

 bleak world about them, albeit dying at their 

 birth. 



It is never well to be influenced by such a 

 thought as that the world was made for man, an 

 idea that forges to the front when Nature appears 

 to seek you out and, thrusting aside the doors of 

 her cabinet, gives generous opportunity to view 

 her gems. Here, where the sloping bank shuts 

 out the chill west wind and a smooth niche in a 

 convenient bowlder proved fitted to my reclining 

 person, the suggestion naturally welled to the 

 surface that something beyond mere chance added 

 the noble outlook. But glacial floods and time's 

 succeeding touch considered only their own whims, 

 and it is well to rest content with the bare fact : it 



