134 DATS OUT OF DOORS. 



A shallower and wider portion of the stream once 

 reached, we all breathed more freely, and full of anticipa- 

 tion, if not of novelty, at least of cheerful sights, we found 

 ourselves alone with woods and waters and a solitary 

 crow. Its cawing was not unmusical, then and there. 

 We fancied it the prompter's call and warning that the 

 audience was in waiting. Whether the birds that morn- 

 ing saw fit to play us a trick or were beyond the reach of 

 the lone crow's ringing voice, we shall never know ; but 

 the music of our dipping oars, the ripple of the tide be- 

 neath the prow, and the distant tinkling of a cow-bell in 

 the marsh, were all we heard. Here, then, was ready nature 

 waiting for the unready birds ; and with a tinge of disap- 

 pointment that so much of our course was without song, 

 we reached a narrower winding of the creek, sparsely 

 shaded by the half -leaved trees: here were music and 

 beauty blended. Swallows in mid-air, greenlets in the 

 willows, and afar off the crested redbird warbled and 

 whistled without rest, while the scarlet tanager flashed 

 like a winged flame through the snowy branches of the 

 bitter plum. Rounding a sudden bend, we startled the 

 great blue heron from his perch, which joined his soaring 

 mate high overhead, and for long they circled above us as 

 we hurried by, eager for fresh fields and pastures new. 



Not alone were the trees in the flood-tide of their 

 glory ; the meadows were starred with brilliant marigold, 

 and the banks of many an inflowing brook were fretted 

 and streaked with the ivory and gold wands of the rank 

 orontium. 



Whatever may be thought of the Bonapartes as 

 Frenchmen, he who lingers along the wooded south shore 

 of Crosswicks Creek, from a mile or more above and down- 

 ward to its junction with the Delaware, will recall with 

 gratitude the amiable Joseph, who once dwelt here, and be 

 duly thankful that he was so skillful a landscape gardener. 



