RUNNING WATERS 



161 



The summer foliage blurs the graceful cutting 

 of the banks, but compensates for this loss by a 

 wealth of color. The stream sparkles between 

 great borders of green, reflecting the blue sky 

 where smooth, and turning to amethyst where it 

 runs over shallows. The tree and the bank, the 

 fern and the burning cardinal flower are mirrored 

 in the dark pools, the cloud shadow and the sun- 

 burst are flung across the moving surface, and 

 the path of the moonlight weaves and ravels 

 there as on the sea. Flexible and changeable 

 as the sky above it, the river glides along, 

 and, chameleon-like, takes its color from its 

 surroundings. It may be whipped with rain- 

 squalls to-night, but to-morrow it will show 

 the first silvery light of dawn upon its shin- 

 ing face, and whatever momentary effect may 

 mar its surface, there is no pause in the smooth 

 slipping seaward. 



Even in winter, when the river is covered with 

 ice, the murmur of the water beneath says it 

 is still moving toward the ocean. Its face is 

 masked, its color is gone, even its reflection is 

 dimmed, for ice unless very smooth is a poor 

 reflector ; yet still for all its desolate state and the 

 cold, dark ranks of trees standing along its banks, 

 the beauty of the river has not entirely departed. 



