BY THE RIVERSIDE. 



"THE earth is all enchanted ground. With its light and shade, 

 its ebb and flow, it is all thine." PARBEE SCRIPTURES. 



WITHIN a mile or more of the gold mines 

 on this road of many marvels there is 

 a bridge crossing the Wildcat River. This is 

 a brisk stream, forty or fifty feet in width at 

 this point, but a few rods below it opens into a 

 large pond, where the white and yellow lilies 

 grow, where the wild ducks feed, and the swal- 

 lows skim its gleaming surface. 



I have halted here this October afternoon 

 because many things invited me, and there was 

 no good reason why I should not accept the 

 invitations. There are no lovelier days in all 

 the year than these. June has its peculiar 

 charms of unrolling leaves, of white banners on 

 the wild-pear trees, and all the promise of 

 flower and fruit, but October is the realization 

 of the promise. The barns are filled, the 

 meadows are picturesque with stacks of hay 

 peeping out of the alders and red-leaved maples, 



