160 BOULDER REVERIES. 



clay along the bluffs or banks of such wood- 

 land creeks the springs, countless in number, 

 well and trickle. From their mouths drip the 

 drops of pure, limpid water which, gathering 

 together, flow slowly but surely onward into the 

 maw of the well known river. Blot out the 

 springs, dry up the smaller streams, and the 

 river which drains thousands of square miles 

 will soon cease to be. As long as man allows 

 the trees and shrubs to clothe the hillsides and 

 uplands with their green and brown of spring 

 and autumn, so long will these woodland streams 

 add to the waters of the greater river their pur- 

 ity and their strength. 



That red or crimson which bedecks the white 

 oaks to-day, where does one ever see its counter- 

 part among the hues designed by man ? 



The brunella still blossoms on the brink of 

 the branch. The everlasting still sifts forth its 

 fragrance to the passing breeze. Buzzards soar 

 on outspread wing, seeking not the pleasing odor 

 of the living everlasting, but that of death. 



As the wind increasls and the raindrops begin 



