A WAYSIDE BROOK. jgi 



for a yard or two, re-form, and as a company 

 make their way to the dispersing point, a thin 

 slab of stone that barred their further passage. 



So, in this most unpromising spot I found no 

 end of entertainment, and, except in midsummer, 

 would not have tired of any single feature ; but 

 study, even studies a-field, are irksome in July, 

 and I forgot the minnows as my eyes fell upon a 

 large slab of stone near where I was lying. It 

 was one of four broad stepping-stones that near- 

 ly two centuries ago were placed here. Then, 

 there flowed, through a thick woods, a broad 

 stream, and near here the first house was built. 

 Upon these stones had stepped the grave elders 

 and loitered the light-hearted children of three 

 generations ; and now not a trace of house, gar- 

 den, barn, woods, or pasture remains. Every- 

 thing has given way to more pretentious struct- 

 ures, broader fields, and painfully angular high- 

 ways. The one-time winding lane, shaded by 

 noble oaks, is now not even to be traced across 

 the fields ; and, instead thereof, a narrow sunny 

 strip of yellow sand leads to the public road. 

 " What an improvement ! " once remarked a neigh- 

 bor, when the change was made. What an im- 

 provement, indeed ! where once was beauty, one 

 finds, save this little remnant of a creek, an end- 

 less array of fields, with scarcely a tree along 

 the division fences. Doubtless, could the brook 



