Though the world may seem discordant enough, 

 there is always this wholesome note. 



No two brooks are alike. As the result of the 

 charadter of the country through which they flow, 

 they impress one as having strongly defined per- 

 sonalities. A creek flowing sluggishly through the 

 alluvial districts of the South is insipid compared 

 to a mountain stream in New England. Your 

 mountain brook is a strong, salient personality 

 which dominates the landscape. It sweeps in bold 

 curves about the base of cliff's, and contradls into 

 a mere mill race cut in the distorted schist and 

 gneiss. Its suggestion is wholly of savage strength, 

 a rude, forceful thing of the wilderness ; its song a 

 masterful strain, a triumphant chant of power. 

 Again, there are merry little streams tinkling in 

 the sunlight. 



In cutting down its channel, the brook may 

 reach a stratum seemingly richer than any above, 

 so that in April its banks become a garden. While 

 scarcely a flower is to be seen on the hillsides, the 

 fertile floor of the ravine is carpeted with spurred 

 violets, groundnut and spring beauties. 



One such as this falls into a glen over a little 

 precipice, spreading itself out like a fine veil which 



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