A LYRIC OF THE CUTTALOSSA. 



J\ bync of tfie ©uffafoxi^Aa.* 



Where Cuttalossa's waters 



Roll murmuring on their way, 

 'Twixt hazel clumps and alders, 



'Neath old trees mossed and gray. 

 Just where across the valley. 



From the old, old grist-mill come 

 The water-wheel's low patter, 



The mill-stone's drowsy hum. 



Here sparkling from its birthplace 



Just up the rifted hill. 

 O'er tiny cascades leaping, 



Comes down a little rill ; 

 Till in a rude built fountain 



It pours its crystal tide. 

 Just where the road comes winding 



On the valley opening wide. 



Here a Samaria-dweller 



Had brought a rustic cup. 

 From the milky cocoa fashioned, 



And there had hung it up. 

 A little gem poetic. 



From New England's Quaker bard, 

 With his name beneath, was graven 



Upon its outlines hard. 



401 



* On the Cuttalossa, two miles from its mouth, is a spring which l^-« ^^ad mu^^ 

 printed notice from iis romantic surroundings. It had long ^een — - a 

 place of liquid refreshment by ph^cing there a water-trough and drinking cup 

 The latter,\ cocoa shell neatly handled, had an apt inscription plac-i upon ^t 

 A colored teamster from Buckingham bore the cup away for private use bnt 

 brought it back on hearing that the road-master had pos.ed up a notice threaten- 

 ing the abductor with suspension unless he did so. 



