178 SIGNS AND SEASONS 



the edges of the fields and marshes, and leaving 

 ragged patches of water here and there! Many a 

 gentle slope spread, as it were, a turfy apron in 

 which reposed a little pool or lakelet. Many a 

 stream sent little detachments across lots, the spark- 

 ling water seeming to trip lightly over the unbroken 

 turf. Here and there an oak or an elm stood 

 knee-deep in a clear pool, as if rising from its bath. 

 It gives one a fresh, genial feeling to see such a 

 bountiful supply of pure, running water. One's 

 desires and affinities go out toward the full streams. 

 How many a parched place they reach and lap in 

 one's memory ! How many a vision of naked peb- 

 bles and sun-baked banks they cover and blot out! 

 They give eyes to the fields; they give dimples and 

 laughter; they give light and motion. Running 

 water! What a delightful suggestion the words 

 always convey! One's thoughts and sympathies 

 are set flowing by them; they unlock a fountain of 

 pleasant fancies and associations in one's memory; 

 the imagination is touched and refreshed. 



March water is usually clean, sweet water; every 

 brook is a trout-brook, a mountain brook; the cold 

 and the snow have supplied the condition of a high 

 latitude; no stagnation, no corruption, comes down- 

 stream now as on a summer freshet. Winter comes 

 down, liquid and repentant. Indeed, it is more 

 than water that runs then: it is frost subdued; it 

 is spring triumphant. No obsolete watercourses 

 now. The larger creeks seek out their abandoned 

 beds, return to the haunts of their youth, and lin- 



