THE LIFE-STREAM. 39 



another life symbol. Such am I, and such is every man 

 — bubbles on the dread time-stream — one moment mov- 

 ing calmly over the waters of prosperity — the next, 

 caught in the eddies of misfortune, till, bewildered and 

 stunned, we are hurled against the rocks of discourage- 

 ment. Yet, ever afloat, and ever borne rapidly on, we 

 are moving from sight, to be swallowed up in that vast 

 solitude, from whose echoless depths no voice has 

 ever yet returned. Life, life, how solemn and mys- 

 terious thou art ! I could weep as I lean from this 

 rock and gaze on the dark, rushing waters — thought 

 crowds on thought, and sad memories come sweep- 

 ing up, and future forebodings mingle in the solemn 

 gathering, and emotions no one has ever yet ex 

 pressed, and feelings that have struggled since time 

 began, for utterance, swell like that swollen water ovei 

 my heart, and make me inconceivably sad here in the 

 depths of the forest. 



How long I might have stood absorbed in this half 

 dreamy half thoughtful mood, I know not, had I not 

 heard a shout below me. Passing down, I soon came 

 to a steep bank, at the base of which several men were 

 tumbling logs into the stream. I watched them for 

 some time, and was struck with the coolness with 



