They know what the
bright little river means, as well as the mill-boy fishing by the bank:
how He sent it near the city, just as He brought that child into the
midst of the hackneyed, doubting old tax-gatherers and publicans long
ago, with the same message. Such a curious calm and clearness rest in
it, one is almost persuaded, that, in some day gone by, some sick,
thirsty soul has in truth gone into its dewy solitude in a gray summer
dawn, and, finding there the fabled fountain of eternal life, has left
behind a blessing from all those stronger redeemed years to come.
There is a narrow road which leaves the main one, and penetrates behind
the river-hills, only to find others, lower and more heavily wooded,
with now and then odd-shaped bits of pasture-land wedged in between
their sides, or else low brick farm-houses set in a field of corn and
potatoes, with a dripping pump-trough at the door. It is a thorough
country-road, lazy, choking itself up with mud even in summer, to keep
city-carriages out, bordering itself with slow-growing maples and banks
of lush maiden's-hair, blood-red partridge-berries, and thistles. You
can find dandelions growing in the very middle of it, there is so little
travel out there.
Pages:
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127