My First Summer 



ing channels, which suddenly gather the 

 waters together into the main trunk in 

 booming torrents of enormous transporting 

 power, though short lived. 



One of these ancient flood boulders stands 

 firm in the middle of the stream channel, 

 just below the lower edge of the pool dam 

 at the foot of the fall nearest our camp. It is 

 a nearly cubical mass of granite about eight 

 feet high, plushed with mosses over the top 

 and down the sides to ordinary high-water 

 mark. When I climbed on top of it to-day 

 and lay down to rest, it seemed the most ro- 

 mantic spot I had yet found, --the one big 

 stone with its mossy level top and smooth 

 sides standing square and firm and solitary, 

 like an altar, the fall in front of it bathing it 

 lightly with the finest of the spray, just enough 

 to keep its moss cover fresh ; the clear green 

 pool beneath, with its foam-bells and its half 

 circle of lilies leaning forward like a band of 

 admirers, and flowering dogwood and alder 

 trees leaning over all in sun-sifted arches. 

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