BIRDS AT THEIR BEST 39 



invisible at my side and thinking them apposite to 

 the subject had whispered them into my ear. 

 They are lines addressed to the Merrimac River 

 by an American poet — ^whether a major or minor 

 I do not know, having forgotten his name. In 

 one stanza he mentions the fact that "young 

 Brissot" looked upon this stream in its bright 

 flow — 



And bore its image o'er the deep 

 To soothe a martyr's sadness, 



And fresco in his troubled sleep 

 His prison walls with gladness. 



Brissot is not generally looked upon as a 

 "martyr" on this side of the Atlantic, nor was 

 he allowed to enjoy his "troubled sleep" too 

 long after his feUow-citizens (especially the great 

 and sea-green Incorruptible) had begun in their 

 fraternal fashion to thirst for his blood ; but we 

 can easily believe that during those dark days in 

 the Bastille the image and vision of the beautiful 

 river thousands of miles away was more to him 

 than aU his varied stores of knowledge, all his 

 schemes for the benefit of suffering humanity, 

 and even a better consolation than philosophy. 



It is indeed this "gladness" of old sunshine 



