122 



WINTER 



of the first February rain! The little trout t 

 brook below me foams and sometimes overruns the\ 

 road, and as its small noise ascends the hill, I can 

 hear the wind on a great river, the wash of waves 

 against a narrow bank, and the m uffled roar of qi 

 ing sluices as when a February freshet is on. 



