STONE-DWELLERS 



UNDER the footbridge the stream runs dark, then 

 plunges sparkling over a sill of brown stone into a 

 pool some five feet below. Where the ripple of the 

 fall ceases, the water becomes clear as glass, and 

 we can see everything that is in the pool. The 

 everything seems nothing except brown stones in 

 the shade, growing into orange stones in the sun- 

 shine, with wreaths between them like very faint 

 smoke to show where the water runs. A stranger 

 would say there was nothing whatever in the strea'm 

 but water running its barren way to the sea. The 

 roots of the willow-herb are bathed in it, and a 

 mighty luxuriance shoots up. It is crammed now 

 with thousands of flowers in freshest, brightest pink, 

 starred with light yellow pollen masses. The faint 

 scent of "codlins and cream," like apples gently 

 cooking, makes the way of the bridge very delight- 

 ful. Willows and alders faithfully mark the course 

 of the stream far below, for water is water the whole 

 world over ; bees and butterflies come to the willow- 

 herb and hemp-agrimony ; and a band of long- 

 tailed tits swing in the alder close over the pool, but 

 in the pool itself there is no life. 



If we will take our shoes and stockings off and do 

 275 



