BRIDGES 155 



portance of such a catastrophe as the destruction of 

 London Bridge can in no way be more justly esti- 

 mated than by the persistence through the generations 

 of this song-game. 



It is curious how characteristic bridges are of the 

 region or the civilization which produced them. What 

 could be more characteristic of the Titanic materialism 

 of New York than the high-leaping boulevards of 

 steel which span the East River? They are the bridges 

 which befit Manhattan no less than the corduroy, laid 

 on two string pieces formed by felling hemlocks across 

 the rushing mountain stream, befits the logging road 

 which winds into the forests under Carrigain. The 

 bridges of Florence, too the Ponte Vecchio, let us say 

 are composed of exquisite ancient arches of hewn 

 stone, in perfect proportion, leading into squares where 

 stone architecture in exquisite proportion speaks of the 

 marvellous Renaissance. They are not vast, these 

 bridges. They do not leap. They are gravelly monu- 

 mental, however, on the scale of the city, built by 

 artists, to endure. As exactly fitted to their age and 

 station were the old covered bridges of New England 

 nay, are, for many a one still stands across the Con- 

 necticut or the Androscoggin, witness to the enduring 

 qualities of native oak; we cannot say a mute witness, 

 because there was never yet a New England covered 

 bridge in which the planking did not rattle. 



The road that winds down the hills to the covered 



