

THE 



NATURE-STUDY REVIEW 



\'<>i . i:; \<>\ i \n;i k. 1917 N- 



The Brook 



L. H. Bailey 



In the bottom of the valley is a brook that saunters bet 

 oozing banks. It falls over stones and dips under fences. It 

 marks an open place on the face of the earth, and the trees and soft 

 herbs bend their branches into the sunlight. The hang-bird 

 swings her nest over it. Mossy logs are crumbling into it. There- 

 are still pools where the minnows play. The brook runs away and 

 away into the forest. As a boy I explored it but never found its 

 source. It came somewhere from the Beyond and its name is 

 Mystery. 



The mystery of this brook was its changing moods. It had its 

 own way of recording the passing of the weeks and months. I 

 remember never to have seen it twice in the same mood, nor to have 

 got the same lesson from it on two successive days; yet, with all 

 its variety, it always left that same feeling of mystery and that 

 same vague longing to follow to its source and to know the great 

 world that I was sure must lie beyond. I felt that the brook was 

 greater and wiser than I . It became my teacher. I wondered how 

 it knew when March came, and why its round of life recurred so 

 regularly with the returning seasons. I remember that I was 

 anxious for the spring to come, that I might see it again. I longed 

 for the earthy smell when the snow settled away and left bare 

 brown margins along its banks. I watched for the suckers that 

 came up from the river to spawn. I made a note when the first 

 frog peeped. I waited for the unfolding spray to soften the bare 

 trunks. I watched the greening of the banks and looked eagerly 

 for the bluebird when I heard his curling note somewhere high in 

 the air. 



Yet, with all my familiarity with this brook, I did not know it in 

 the winter. Its pathway up into the winter woods was as unex- 

 *From The Nature-Study Idea. 



323 



