A RIVER VIEW. 209 



When unprotected by a covering of snow, the ice, 

 under the expansive force of the sun, breaks regu- 

 larly, every two or three miles, from shore to shore. 

 The break appears as a slight ridge, formed by the 

 edges of the overlapping ice. 



This icy uproar is like thunder because it seems to 

 proceed from something in swift motion ; you cannot 

 locate it ; it is everywhere and yet nowhere. Thero 

 is something strange and phantom-like about it. To 

 the eye all is still and rigid, but to the ear all is in 

 swift motion. 



This crystal cloud does not open and let the bolt 

 leap forth, but walk upon it, and you see the ice shot 

 through and through in every direction with shining, 

 iridescent lines where the force passed. These lines 

 are not cracks which come to the surface, but spiral 

 paths, through the ice, as if the force that made them 

 went with a twist like a rifle bullet. In places sev- 

 eral of them run together, when they make a track 

 as broad as one's hand. 



Sometimes when I am walking upon the ice and 

 this sound flashes by me, I fancy it is like the stroke 

 of a gigantic skater, one who covers a mile at a stride 

 and makes the crystal floor ring beneath him. I hear 

 his long tapering stroke ring out just beside me, and 

 then in a twinkling it is half a mile away. 



A fall of snow, and this icy uproar is instantly 

 hushed, the river sleeps in peace. The snow is like 

 a coverlid, which protects the ice from the changes of 

 temperature of the air, and brings repose to its un- 

 easy spirit. 



