BELOW the falls, where the vexed water, quiet for a 

 space, sweeps down with calmer flow, a mountain torrent 

 joins the brimming river. It is a headlong stream, no 

 gentle " nurse of rushes and of reeds." Through a green 

 glen, worn deep into the mountain side, it laughs and 

 dances, and leaps lightly down, a free, unfettered spirit 

 of the hills. 



A slight pathway through the wood, a track trodden 

 only by the loitering angler or by the bkck cattle 

 descending from the uplands, wanders in and out among 

 the thickets, climbing the steep slope along the stream. 

 The bed of the torrent is piled with great boulders, their 

 smooth sides overgrown with lichen, and, where the 

 water laps their cool shadows, thick with moss and fern. 

 In the wreck of leaves and branches that winter spates 

 have strewn among the crannies, a hundred plants have 

 found a footing, brightening with their mingled tints 

 the cold grey of the stones. Pale blue scabious and 

 purple centaury, yellow hawkweed and white meadow- 

 sweet, slender harebell and tall angelica, spread their 



