RAMBLING RIVERS . 



THE river of the highland is the river of the lowland. The 

 plunging cataract of the mountains becomes the slow-moving 

 and pacific river of the prairies. As if tired of tumultuous 

 tossings on its way down from the dizzy mountain steeps, it 

 glides leisurely and lazily across the level stretches of the 

 prairie. The river is a pilgrim. It is on a long journey from 

 the mountains to the sea. I do not wonder that it grows 

 weary on its winding way. I do not wonder now that the 

 river loiters across the level land, having sped so swiftly 

 from its high sources in the mountain snow. 



GLEAM AND SHADOW 



