CHAPTER XXIV 



UP THE RIVER 



GONE are the brimming pools and the broad 

 swelling streams of the merry springtime, 

 the cool fresh breeze, the fleet of duns, the 

 rise of deadly intent, and the contented creel. Here 

 a few weeks ago we almost feared to wade, so deep 

 and strong was the full-flowing current, and now it 

 is but a stone-strewn stretch of thin, lifeless water. 

 Pools there are still, no doubt, but they are far apart 

 and few, and when after painful toil under the 

 heat we reach one, we find it dull, stagnant, hopeless. 



For many days the sun has ridden unchallenged 

 across the heavens ; by day not the tiniest wisp of 

 cloud relieves the monotonous expanse of everlasting 

 blue ; at eventide a few filmy streaks collect in the 

 West awaiting in their vanity to be adorned with 

 golden brilliancy, but before the dawning they melt 

 away, and we are left with but a memory of their 

 glory. The promise given of most necessary help 

 is withdrawn, and we awake to another day of sun 

 and calm. 



The terrified trout have fled their accustomed 

 haunts to search out refreshing deeps under the 

 rushing white force of a steep, stony stream, sadly 

 attenuated though it be, among the rocks of a still, 

 dead pool, beneath a hollowed bank, within the 



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