216 BOULDER REVERIES. 



that of the bur-oak. This willow at all seasons, 

 but especially in winter, exhales a peculiar 

 bitter, penetrating odor. 



In places the stream abuts against a perpen- 

 dicular bank of clay and gravel, ten to thirty 

 feet in height. Sometimes this is bare, but 

 more often it is overhung with clumps of the 

 wild hydrangea or the climbing swamp rose. 

 From the bases of these banks or from depres- 

 sions in their sides in many places emerg^ the 

 feeders of the stream, springs whose waters ever 

 flow or seep, never failing in time of utmost 

 drouth. Pure, cold and clear, or sometimes 

 slightly tinged with the yellowish red hue of 

 oxide of iron, they furnish moisture to many a 

 form of God's lowly creatures. 



Sauntering down the stream, I in time reach 

 the thicket of prickly ash, dense of itself, yet 

 overhung in places with the foliage of the 

 wild frost grape. On a little terrace, five feet 

 above the water, it flourishes, the only one of its 

 kind for miles around. Vireos, blue-gray gnat- 

 catchers, pewees and thrushes are to-day flitting 

 about its borders, or calling from its deepest re- 



