48 AN OLD ROAD. 



it ; and in general I have come to put faith 

 in such involuntary and, if I may say so, 

 sensible joggings of the memory. I wonder 

 whether the tree ever was there or any- 

 where. At all events, the thought of it 

 gave me for the moment a pleasure more 

 real than any taste in the mouth, were it 

 never so sweet. Thank fortune, imagina- 

 tive delights are as far as possible from 

 being imaginary. 



The river just mentioned runs under the 

 road, and, as will readily be inferred, is one 

 of its foremost attractions. I speak of it 

 as a " river " with some misgivings. It is 

 a rather large brook, or a very small river ; 

 but a man who has never been able to leap 

 across it has perhaps no right to deny it the 

 more honorable appellation. Its source is 

 a spacious and beautiful sheet of water, 

 which heretofore has been known as a 

 "pond," but which I should be glad to 

 believe would hereafter be put upon the 

 maps as Lake Wessagusset. This brook or 

 river, call it whichever you please, goes 

 meandering through the township in a 

 northeasterly direction, turning the wheels 

 of half a dozen mills, more or less, on its 



