THE HISTORY OF AN OLD FRIEND. 131 



view. You see him, with his keen eye and grave countenance, 

 draw himself upon a root, and with careful fingers arrange his 

 dress, wash his face, and smooth his whiskers. By his side sits a 

 little picture of his sire — a tiny counterpart, that is destined one 

 clay to take his place among the reeds and by the bridge, and rear 

 the mimic dome upon the lake. After the parent has completed 

 his toilet he gives one or two caressing touches to that of his young 

 heir. A moment more they sit, eyeing the bubbles or floating nuts 

 descending the stream, or watching, their faces reflected in the 

 moonlight waters. Who can say that they do not appreciate the 

 beauty of the night, or the soft murmuring music of the woods, or 

 the fragrance of the air, laden with the odour of calamus buds and 

 the breath of the birch and sassafras? Presently, diving down 

 together, they disappear under the water, from whence, after a 

 moment, they reappear, each with several muscles clasped to his 

 breast by his fore paws, and, resuming their seats on the roots, 

 they eat their food with the readiness of squirrels, casting the 

 shells down at their feet, which fall on the pile of pearly bivalves 

 that adorn the entrance to their home. Another pause follows, 

 while they look up and down the brook. 



Are they not comely in their dark-brown coat and black feet ? 

 Does not their soft hair, that sheds the water, and the strong flat 

 tail that steers their course, befit well their pursuits? Do not 

 their manners well become their place ? Is it not true they are 

 free from cares and inordinate greed — that they know their simple 

 duties and enjoy them ? 



You say they are idle ? Wait till you have seen their whole 

 life. 



Presently the father swims off on the water and across the 

 brook. We may not see him go, for only his head is above the 

 surface, and his tail floats like a rudder. By the wake in the 

 water we may tell his course long after his round head is lost to 

 view, and his child is following him close behind. They are 

 bound for the low reeds on the other shore. There the calamus 

 lifts its waving wands and spicy buds, while beyond the water- 

 pad's broad leaf floats on the surface, and their white and yellow 

 lilies stud the waters, and from the sandy edge of the channel the 



