A River View. 47 



at such a time, as one wary wild duck proved to 

 be to-day. It was a brightly-plumaged bird, with 

 a great preponderance of white, set off with black 

 upon the wings, neck, head, and shoulders ; a trim 

 bird, at home alike in the air or on the water ; one 

 that has no dread of distance ; here to-day, in a 

 foreign land to-morrow. 



Although gracefully floating near by, this pretty 

 duck often seemed quite in mid-stream, and con- 

 stantly disappeared, yet without diving. Now 

 flashing into view upon the black water, now 

 standing out in ebon contrast to the white, silvery 

 glitter of a wide waste of water, it never quite 

 took proper shape, but ever left us with a linger- 

 ing doubt as to its identity. Had not happy 

 chance rewarded our patience, it would still be a 

 matter of uncertainty ; but no, it was truly a wild 

 duck, and not a fancy. But the point lies here : 

 Might there not have been at least a companion, 

 if, indeed, not many ? Because space only con- 

 fronts you, count not the landscape empty. Un- 

 seen activities are real. A counter-blast, it may 

 be, checked the breeze, and the stilled water gave 

 up its secret. Such a chance — one in ten thou- 



