MY BRIDGE OF DREAMS. 5 



is full of the bright sunlight that, in the early days of the year, is so 

 welcome to nature and humanity alike. 



Wayfarers love to tarry on my Bridge of Dreams, and I have 

 heard them liken the streamlet unto the " Brook" whereof Tennyson 

 sang. To them the spot is one where they may luxuriously rest a- 

 while, and perchance smoke a pipe of peace ; where, lolling against 

 the parapet, they may watch the graceful movements of the trout 

 and grayling. But to me, especially in the " sweet of the year," it 

 is a place of shadows and of dreams. 



