RUNNING WATERS 
161 
The summer foliage blurs the graceful cutting 
of the banks, but compensates for this loss by a 
wealth of color. The stream sparkles between 
great borders of green, reflecting the blue sky 
where smooth, and turning to amethyst where it 
runs over shallows. The tree and the bank, the 
fern and the burning cardinal flower are mirrored 
in the dark pools, the cloud shadow and the sun- 
burst are flung across the moving surface, and 
the path of the moonlight weaves and ravels 
there as on the sea. Flexible and changeable 
as the sky above it, the river glides along, 
and, chameleon-like, takes its color from its 
surroundings. It may be whipped with rain- 
squalls to-night, but to-morrow it will show 
the first silvery light of dawn upon its shin- 
ing face, and whatever momentary effect may 
mar its surface, there is no pause in the smooth 
slipping seaward. 
Even in winter, when the river is covered with 
ice, the murmur of the water beneath says it 
is still moving toward the ocean. Its face is 
masked, its color is gone, even its reflection is 
dimmed, for ice unless very smooth is a poor 
reflector ; yet still for all its desolate state and the 
cold, dark ranks of trees standing along its banks, 
the beauty of the river has not entirely departed. 
Color on the 
river. 
Under ice, 
