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NATURE FOB ITS OWN SAKE 



ination of some graphic narrator. All the rivers 

 I have known melt into the sea as smoke fades 

 into the air. The current is loosed from its con- 

 fining banks, but it still holds headway out upon 

 the top of the salt water for some distance, its 

 coloring marking its course, until gradually it 

 breaks into thin, cloud-like sheets and is finally 

 absorbed and neutralized by the vast body of 

 the sea. 



If we enter a river from the sea, we may have 

 some difficulty at the start in finding the main 

 stream. The water is spread wide, and there 

 are many false inlets and bayous scattered here 

 and there. Even when we are at last in the 

 main channel, we find the water discolored and 

 moving sluggishly between low, ill-defined 

 banks. There is little movement at this final 

 stage of river life, little winding in and out of 

 nooks and bends. The stream seems to drift 

 and drag lazily along, with none of its moun- 

 tain brightness. It is moving slowly toward 

 annihilation, and it seems almost semi-human 

 in a consciousness of it. Farther inland it 

 flows a little freer and has more power. The 

 salt meadows stretch out on either side of it, and 

 the banks have lifted, perhaps, several feet in 

 height. These banks are formed of mud 



