BY THE BLITHE BROOK. 



I COUNT a passion for brooks among the most 

 deep-seated and intense of my loves. From 

 earliest boyhood the gurgle of a running stream 

 has always filled me with the same joy, though in a 

 different key, as the roll of the surf or the wind in 

 the forest trees. To come upon a brook as it slips 

 under the highway bridge ; or as it loiters across the 

 open meadow ; or as it tumbles over its rocky bed 

 on the hillside ; or as it gladdens the stillness of the 

 woods with its musical ripple, — was always a re- 

 freshment to the spirit like that which its cool waters 

 give to the body. To no verse in the Bible does my 

 heart yield quicker response than that which says, 

 "He shall drink of the brook by the wayside, and 

 shall look up." With body and with soul I say 

 "Amen." 1 never pass a brook without a "Te 

 Deum." And I have given myself a dyspepsia many 

 a time, in a country where brooks abound, because I 

 could not resist the seductive tipple they afford. 



So it has been a keen delight in these summer 

 days to find myself the near neighbour of a most 

 engaging brook ; a brook which was active and 



cheerful all summer long ; a brook which was typ- 



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