An Ice-Bound Brook. 



IT is a genuine comfort to know the nature of 

 our footing ; to be rid of doubt when we walk. 

 The possible near presence of a quicksand per- 

 turbs the mind until we are dead to Nature's at- 

 tractions. Sometimes, however, such a doleful 

 experience is repaid by the ecstatic reaction 

 when firm earth is reached, after treading some 

 treacherous path. We laugh at the very idea 

 of having entertained a fear and grow bolder as 

 the distance increases between danger and our- 

 selves. 



Often, throughout the long summer and 

 dreamy autumn-tide, I had wandered as near as 

 prudence permitted to the wide brook that 

 flowed silently and swiftly through the weedy 

 marsh, but never quite reached to those river 

 sanctuaries that held, in fact or in fancy, the 

 chief glories of these unreclaimed tracts of 

 meadow. But kindly frost came to my aid. 

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