A FEBRUARY FRESHET 107 



the wrens among the reeds and calamus ; the pink 

 of the mallow and wild roses along the high mud 

 banks ; the fishy ditches with their deep sluiceways 

 through the bank into the river ; and the vast, vast 

 tide-marshes that, to this day, seem to me to stretch 

 away to the very edge of the world. 



What a world for a boy to drive cows into every 

 morning, and drive them home from every night, 

 as I used to help do ! or to trap muskrats in during 

 the winter; to go fishing in during the summer; to 

 go splashing up and down in when the great Febru- 

 ary freshet came on ! 



For of all the events of the year, none had such 

 fascination for me as the high winds and warm 

 downpour that flooded the wharves, that drove the 

 men of the village out to guard the river-banks, 

 and that drowned out of their burrows and winter 

 hiding-places all the wild things that lived within 

 reach of the spreading tide. 



The water would pour over the meadows and run 

 far back into the swamps and farm lands, setting 

 everything afloat that could float rails, logs, 

 branches; upon which, as chance offered, some 

 struggling creature would crawl, and drift away to 

 safety. 



But not always to safety; for over the meadows 

 the crows and fish hawks, gulls, herons, bitterns, 

 and at night the owls, were constantly beating to 

 pounce upon the helpless voyagers, even taking the 



