AN OLD ROAD. 49 



way ; a sluggish stream, too lazy to work, 

 you would think ; passing much of its time 

 in flat, grassy meadows, where it idles along 

 as if it realized that the end of its course 

 was near, and felt in no haste to lose itself 

 in the salt sea. Out of this stream I pulled 

 goodly numbers of perch, pickerel, shiners, 

 flatfish, and hornpouts, while I was still care- 

 less-hearted enough (" Heaven lies about 

 us in our infancy ") to enjoy this very ami- 

 able and semi - religious form of "sport;" 

 and as the river intersects at least seven 

 roads that came within my boyish beat, I 

 must have crossed it thousands of times ; in 

 addition to which I have spent days in pad- 

 dling and bathing in it. Altogether, it is 

 one of my most familiar friends; and 

 what one cannot say of all familiar friends 

 I do not remember that it ever served 

 me the slightest ill-turn. It passes under 

 the road of which I am now discoursing, in 

 a double channel (the bridge being sup- 

 ported midway by a stone wall), and then 

 broadens out into an artificial shallow, 

 through which travelers may drive if they 

 will, to let their horses drink out of the 

 stream. First and last, I have improved 



