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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 
 
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 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
Up in a wild, where no one comes to look, 
 There lives and sings a little lonely brook; 
 Liveth and singeth in the dreary pines, 
 Yet creepeth on to where the daylight shines." — 
 
first Steps in (Seoorapb^ 
 
 OO^OO 
 
 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS 
 
 BY jjy 
 
 ALEXANDER E. FRYE, LL.B. 
 
 ^lthor of "The Child and Nature," "Raised Maps or 
 the Continents." etc. 
 
 Jf f ry "Come forth into the light of things 
 ( y ' Let Nature be your teacher" 
 
 — Wordsworth 
 
 >V 
 
 PUBLISHED BY THE 
 
 BAY STATE PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 
 Hyde Park, Mass. 
 
 1891 
 

 "Boys, flying kifes, haul in their white-winged birds; 
 You can't do tftat way when you're flying words." 
 
 — Will Carleton. 
 
 Copyright, 1891, 
 By ALEXANDER E, FRYE. 
 
 All Rights Reserved. 
 
 Alfred Mudge & Son, Printers, Boston. 
 
PKEFACE. 
 
 The purpose of this book is twofold : 
 
 I. To INSPIRE CHILDREN WITH LOVE OF NATURE. 
 
 II. TO SUGGEST TO TEACHERS THE SUBJECT-MATTER OF 
 PRIMARY GEOGRAPHY, WHICH, IN THE FORM OF OUT-DOOR 
 NATURE STUDIES, SHOULD PRECEDE THE USE OF A TEXT- 
 BOOK. 
 
 The study of mere forms of land and water, which usually 
 completes the elementary course, is in reality only a very 
 insignificant part of what should constitute the work. The 
 aim should be to teach, by leading children to discover, the 
 relations of these forms to the forces or working agencies, 
 such as running water and currents of air, as they affect the 
 development and distribution of plant and animal life. 
 
 The reason for selecting Brooks axd Brook Basins as 
 a title is fully stated on the page next following. 
 
 If this book possesses any merit, it is that of presenting 
 the earth as a living, working, producing organism, in a 
 form adapted to the minds of children. 
 
 Alex. E. Frye. 
 
 Hyde Park, Mass., Jan. 1, 1891. 
 
TO TEACHERS. 
 
 Tlwughts from 
 "THE CHILD AND NATURE." 
 
 I. Perception. 
 
 Every brook basin is a miniature world. 
 
 The forms of land and water ; the forces at work wearing 
 and building ; the conditions that regulate the distribution 
 of life, — all are there, repeated in endless variety. 
 
 The hillside leads to the greatest slopes of earth; the 
 running water illustrates the principles of drainage of the 
 largest rivers ; the little delta shows how vast alluvial 
 plains are formed ; each blade of grass and tiny earthworm 
 obey the same forces that cover the earth with flora and 
 fauna. 
 
 But only after pupils have studied the relations of forms, 
 forces and conditions in nature, can they imagine them on 
 the grander scale on which our beautiful planet is con- 
 structed ; for, in the development of mind, perception must 
 precede imagination. 
 
 Teachers are earnestly advised to take their pupils, when 
 practicable, out by a brookside, to read and discuss the 
 topics in this book, where nature can speak for itself, and 
 awaken new thoughts. 
 
 The brook basin is the unit-form of continental drainage. 
 
Vi TO TEACHERS. 
 
 II. Imagination. 
 
 Particular attention is called to the importance of culti- 
 vating the power to imagine the great natural features of 
 the earth, by describing them to children as soon as their 
 types have been studied in the school district. 
 
 By such teaching, the grove becomes a great selva, the 
 meadow broadens to a vast prairie, the little ravine rises to 
 a canon of the Colorado ; in short, through the geographical 
 forms about home, pupils should be led to study types of 
 families of great natural features, till the whole world lies 
 mirrored in the district. 
 
 Xot knowledge of particular foreign forms, but power to 
 imagine, should be the aim. This is one of the most im- 
 portant steps in the teaching of primary geography. At 
 the close of some chapters will be found stories illustrating 
 this work. 
 
 Children revel in analogies, because they lead to the 
 beautiful region of fancy, where all childhood must wander 
 till the discovery of natural cause and effect reveals true 
 relations governed by physical laws, and admits to the 
 higher realm of imagination. Fancy is an iridescent 
 bridge between memory and imagination, and unfortunate 
 the child who is not permitted to cross at his leisure, and 
 grow strong in imaging-power while crossing. 
 
 It is because of the great importance of fancy, or phan- 
 tasy, in the development of the imagination, that so many 
 analogies, in simple metaphor and simile, have been sug- 
 gested in these pages. 
 
 III. Sensibility. 
 
 Another element is worthy of special notice ; viz. the use 
 of choice quotations as a means of leading children to a 
 more reflective and refining study of nature. 
 
TO TEACHERS. VH 
 
 Forms of land and water, whose beauty and lessons lie 
 deeply hidden, are oft unveiled at the touch of the poet 
 mind. Their influence sinks deepest when we are drawn 
 nearest to nature in study ; and the forms that first inspired 
 the poet's ideal become the language by which we inter- 
 pret it. 
 
 Science is an ocean of thought, with every wave a poem. 
 
 Eeach out to childhood, and sow in the forming charac- 
 ters the purest thought-seeds of the noblest minds. To see 
 truth is to love it, and every child naturally inclines to that 
 which is pure and true. 
 
 Store the memories with such beautiful poems as lie 
 scattered over these pages like gems in a rough river-bed, 
 and in years to come they will adorn lives made nobler by 
 their presence. 
 
 The philosophy of phenomena, difficult to grasp in the 
 lower grades of school work, has been suggested in various 
 figures of speech. For every fledgling idea in the text, 
 there are a dozen pecking at the word-shells. Do not try 
 to break the coverings from without, but wait for them *to 
 develop from within. 
 
 Let the children taste the joy that springs from the dis- 
 covery of truth. Effort alone is the soil of growth. 
 
CONTEXTS. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I. The Raindrops set out on their Journey 
 
 II. At Work in the Dark Soil . 
 
 III. The Raindrops on the Water-parting 
 
 IV. In the Brook-Bed 
 
 V. Brook Basins and Systems . . 
 
 VI. How Soil is made and carried 
 
 VII. Forms of Water 
 
 VIII. The Atmosphere in Motion . 
 
 IX. An Evening under the Stars 
 
 X. Days, Xights and Seasons 
 
 XI. Plant Life in the Valley . 
 
 XII. Animals that lite by the Brookside 
 
 XIII. Home to Old Ocean 
 
 PAGE 
 1 
 
 10 
 18 
 27 
 36 
 44 
 54 
 61 
 71 
 82 
 95 
 104 
 114 
 
 IX 
 
BEOOKS AND BKOOK BASINS. 
 
BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 
 
 ■OO^OO- 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE RAINDROPS SET OUT OX THEIR JOURNEY. 
 
 " tell me, pretty' brooklet ! 
 
 Whence do thy waters flow ? 
 And whither art thou roaming, 
 So smoothly and so slow ? 
 
 " My birthplace was the mountain, 
 
 My nurse the April showers ; 
 My cradle was a fountain 
 
 O'er-curtained by wild-flowers." 
 
 -Axon. 
 
 Have you heard the babbling brooklet tell the 
 story of its travels ? 
 
 There it comes ! tripping down the hillside. 
 like a band of fairies dressed in golden sunbeams. 
 
 Hear it tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, as it ripples o'er 
 the pebbles. See the sunlight play on its silvery 
 sheets, and dance in the flying spray. 
 
 Watch the shining bubbles spring up in each 
 tiny water-break to catch the rainbow colors, — 
 
 1 
 
2 bbooks axd bbook basins. 
 
 then burst and fling their beauty playfully into 
 the air. 
 
 Flakes of foam, like baby swans, chase around 
 each little bend, and whirl in merry eddies. 
 
 Like a happy child at play, the brooklet hides 
 its dimpled cheek behind the green bank, and then 
 comes skipping lightly forth again. Now it glides 
 into the meadow, where graceful willows bend 
 above it, and snow-white clouds beneath its sur- 
 face seem to float in fairyland. 
 
 On its banks, the wild-flowers stoop their pretty 
 heads, and nod and sway. They love to listen to 
 its noisy prattle. Even the timid rabbit, with one 
 soft white foot uplifted, stops and pricks up its 
 long ears, to hear the brooklet tell the story of its 
 travels. 
 
 Hark ! it is just beginning : 
 
 " Far away in the sunset gardens, where bright 
 flowers cluster at eventide, there dwells a beautiful 
 maiden, named Aurora, the goddess of Dawn. 
 
 •• Just before the break of day, she rises from 
 her downy couch and sets the morning star in her 
 forehead, above a cloudy crown. Over her ruddy 
 shoulders she spreads a rich mantle tinged with 
 purple, and soars away on graceful wings that 
 bear the hues and tints of morning. 
 
 " One touch, in passing, puts out the starry lights. 
 
 Ci Her gently swaying pinions fan away the cold, 
 gray mists, as with rosy fingers she paints the 
 
"Now it glides into the meadow," 
 
THE RAIN D BOPS ON THEIR JOURNEY. 3 
 
 sleeping hilltops, tinting them with dawning light. 
 The sweet-voiced birds awake, and grateful flowers 
 lift up their dewy heads to greet her as she passes. 
 
 " Open-wide she swings the gates of morning, and 
 the flaming chariot of the sun rolls in to run its 
 course across the arching sky. Then swift Aurora 
 westward wings her way to welcome home the 
 Prince of Liriit when his daily task is ended. 
 
 "One morning, long ago, a band of little rain- 
 drops, far away in the deep sea, were watching 
 the rosy Dawn greet the coming Day. 
 
 " The noble Prince was just rising from his bed 
 of roses. A thousand golden spear-points were 
 thrusting aside the dark curtain of night. A 
 thousand silver arrows were shooting across the 
 sky. Old Ocean lay fast asleep. 
 
 " Soon a dazzling light poured out over the 
 water, tipping each tiny ripple with gold. The 
 merry waves awoke, and danced and sang : 
 
 " c Children are we 
 Of the restless sea, 
 Swelling in anger, or speaking in glee ; 
 We follow and race, 
 In shifting chase, 
 Over the boundless ocean space ! 
 Who hath beheld when the race begun ? 
 Who shall behold it run ? ' 
 
 — Batard Taylor. 
 
 " ' Now for a race ! ' shouted the passing sun- 
 beams to our raindrop band. 
 
4 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 
 
 " Away we went ! Up, up, on our light vapor- 
 wings. Up, up, over the tall masts of the ship. 
 Up, up, into the bright blue sky. 
 
 " Far below, we could see the old white sea-gulls, 
 chasing their own shadows among the clear blue 
 waves. 
 
 " The air became cooler, so we put on our pretty 
 white cloud-jackets. What a host we were ! Above, 
 below, on every side, the air was filled with water- 
 dust. It made a cloud that cast a long, wide 
 shadow over the sea. 
 
 " Hour after hour we floated, till the Prince of 
 Light sank to rest on a pillow of fleecy clouds. 
 Over him the Twilight wove a beautiful coverlet 
 with rainbow threads. Then her rosy fingers 
 gently swung the gates of evening, and left us 
 alone in the darkness. 
 
 " Soon a gentle breeze came tripping over the 
 sea. Pretty ripples sprang up to greet it. Then 
 a timid little star peeped forth to see if day had 
 gone. Another and another followed, till their 
 bright eyes were blinking all over the sky. 
 
 « 6 
 
 The twilight hours, like birds, flew by 
 
 As lightly and as free ; 
 Ten thousand stars were in the sky, 
 
 Ten thousand in the sea ; 
 For every wave with dimpled cheek, 
 
 That leaped into the air, 
 Had caught a star in its embrace, 
 
 And held it trembling there.' 
 
 — Amelia B. Welby. 
 
THE RAINDROPS ON THEIR JOURNEY. 5 
 
 " 0, how beautiful was the night ! 
 
 " Low in the west, the crescent moon rocked in 
 the deep grottos of the silver-lined clouds. Under 
 its mellow light, the drowsy waves put on their 
 sparkling night-caps, and went sailing off to bed. 
 
 " Above us, the Milky Way, pale rainbow of 
 night, spanned the dark-blue sky, with its millions 
 of starry drops, like a bridge of silver foam among 
 its clusters of golden islands. 
 
 " There, too, o'erspread the countless stars, as if 
 the sun, like a flaming rocket, had burst and show- 
 ered its flickering sparks over the sleeping earth. 
 
 " Now and then, bright trailing meteors flew far 
 overhead, like starry birds-of-passage, — flashed 
 into sight for an instant, and then were gone, — 
 whither ? 
 
 " Here and there, weird shadows seemed to flit 
 like dark-winged birds across the sea, to remind us 
 that night was hovering near. 
 
 " What a merry train they were — the twinkling 
 stars ! 
 
 " Out of the east came beautiful Vega, brightest 
 of all the evening host. Near it floated the grace- 
 ful Swan, among the foamy flakes that drift adown 
 the Milky Way. 
 
 " Then we heard the night Wind humming a 
 sweet lullaby, telling how — 
 
 " ' Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night, 
 Sailed off in a wooden shoe ; 
 
BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 
 
 Sailed on a river of misty light, 
 
 Into a sea of dew. 
 " Where are you going and what do you wish ? n 
 
 The old Moon asked the three. 
 " We have come to hunt for the herring-fish 
 
 That live in this beautiful sea ; 
 Nets of silver and gold have we," 
 Said Wynken, 
 Blynken 
 And Nod. 
 
 u ' The old Moon laughed and sung a song, 
 As they rocked in the wooden shoe ; 
 And the wind that sped them all night long 
 
 Ruffled the waves of dew. 
 The little stars were the herring-fish 
 
 That lived in that beautiful sea, 
 " Now cast your nets wherever you wish, 
 
 But never af eard are we ! " 
 So cried the stars to the fishermen three, 
 Wynken, 
 Blynken 
 And Nod. 
 
 " c All night long their nets they threw 
 For the fish in the twinkling foam ; 
 Then down from the sky came the wooden shoe, 
 
 Bringing the fishermen home. 
 ? Twas all so pretty a sail, it seemed 
 
 As if it could not be ; 
 And some folks thought 'twas a dream they dreamed, 
 
 Of sailing that beautiful sea ; 
 But I shall name you the fishermen three, 
 Wynken, 
 Blynken 
 And Nod. 
 
THE RAINDROPS OS THEIR JOURS EY. 1 
 
 " i YVynken and Blynken are two little eyes, 
 And Xod is a little head. 
 And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies, 
 
 Is a wee one's trundle-bed ; 
 So shut your eyes while mother sings 
 
 Of wonderful sights that be, 
 And you shall see the beautiful things, 
 
 As you rock on the misty sea, 
 "Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three, 
 Wynken, 
 Blynken 
 And Nod.' 
 
 — Eugene Field. 
 
 "As the sweet song died away, kind Night 
 showered her drowsy drops over our weary band ; 
 and. swinging in the cradle of the gentle winds, 
 we fell asleep. 
 
 " Then we dreamed we were captives of the golden 
 Sunbeams who carried us away in little white- 
 winged boats to a far-off land, and set us at work 
 in cold, dark cells. One day we ran awav. But 
 just as we were gliding along a beautiful pathway, 
 paved with golden sands, and bordered with bright 
 flowers, we awoke to find ourselves still floating 
 above the dark-blue ocean. 
 
 " ' We saw the slow tides go and come, 
 
 The curving surf-lines lightly drawn, 
 The gray rock touched with tender bloom 
 Beneath the fresh-blown rose of dawn.' 
 
 — Whittle r. 
 
8 BROOK? AND BROOK BASINS. 
 
 ••The warm sun soon cleared away the pale 
 mist, and just as far as our little cloud-eyes could 
 reach, we saw broad fields and tall groves, 
 
 •• Pretty white cottages nestled among the low 
 hills. We heard the hum of the old mill-wheel. 
 and the voices of happy children at play. 
 
 •• But the fields were brown and bare. Cold 
 Winter had just tied. We could still see his white 
 footprints in the forest. 
 
 - • Here is work for all ! ' rustled the silver 
 water-dust, as it danced with the merry sunbeams. 
 • The timid rabbit and sportive squirrels have 
 watched the frostv autumn crawl slowly along, 
 wrap itself in a warm cocoon of wintry snow, from 
 which the spring, like a beautiful butterfly, will 
 
 :>n burst forth, fluttering in bright blossoms. 
 
 •• • The gardens will then be filled with seeds. 
 We must help them spring up and grow. We 
 will cover the fields with violets, and send golden 
 grain to wave in the meadows. We will hang 
 rosy apples in the orchards, and purple grapes in 
 the vineyards. How happy everybody will be 
 when all nature wakes from its long quiet sleep! ' 
 
 *• Just then cold Winter turned and sent its 
 icy breath whistling over the hilltops. How we 
 shivered and huddled together ! The warm sun- 
 beams fled away in' fright. Then, folding our 
 little vapor-wings, we became drops of water, and 
 began to patter down on the steep hillsides. 
 
.. i 
 
 THE RAINDROPS CLV THEIR JOURS EY. 9 
 
 The pastures lie baked, and the furrow is bare, 
 The wells they yawn empty and dry ; 
 
 But a rushing of water is heard in the air, 
 And a rainbow leaps out in the sky.' 
 
 — Anon. 
 
 " How glad the old pines were to see us ! 
 
 " The early birds sang their sweetest songs. 
 You should have heard them chirp and twitter 
 among the branches. 
 
 " Merrily the little leopard frogs trilled, ' Pr-r-i\ 
 pr-r-r. spring is here, pr-r-r. pr-r-r ! ' 
 
 "And the old ones croaked their deep bass, 
 1 Tb-b-b. tb-b-b. winter is gone, tb-b-b, tb-b-b ! ' 
 
 -Pretty pink earthworms came crawling from 
 their narrow cells to find out what all this fuss 
 was about. Even the old brindle cow stood out 
 in the rain, and blinked and blinked, for now the 
 springs would all flow pure sweet water again. 
 
 " What a stir it made just because the cold 
 north-wind that morning scared the warm sun- 
 beams away, and sent an April shower to bless the 
 earth ! " 
 
10 BBOOKS AXD BROOK BASIS S. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 AT WORK IX THE DARK SOIL. 
 
 " But what can little raindrops do ? ' piped a 
 robin redbreast next morning, as he dipped his 
 bill in the clear cool water. 
 
 "Do?' bubbled the brook; " you should see us 
 at work! " 
 
 "Chip, chip, che-chip ! ,: chattered a saucy chip- 
 monk who was listening to the story. 
 
 u Chuck, chuck, che-chuck ! ' barked an old gray 
 squirrel, and he snapped his teeth and shook his 
 bushy tail at the thought of a raindrop doing any 
 work. 
 
 " All at once crack went the dead branch on which 
 they sat, and splash they went into the water. 
 How they did sputter and chatter as they scram- 
 bled ashore, and ran to hide in the old stone walk 
 
 " A merry ripple went up and clown the brook. 
 The little wild-flower would have smiled too, but 
 it was afraid that the gray squirrel would come 
 and snip off its head. So it only nodded its pretty 
 blossom, as the brooklet went on with its story. 
 
 " Yes ; we all went merrily to work, for there 
 are no lazy raindrops. The ground was full of 
 
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AT WORK IS THE DARK SOIL. 11 
 
 cracks and holes, where our cousin Jack had been 
 before us. 
 
 ••What! you do not know Jack Frost? ? he 
 is a merrv fellow, brig-lit and full of life. Some- 
 times he is mischievous, too. He likes to nip the 
 flowers and fruits, — yes, and the toes and ears of 
 little girls and boys. 
 
 •• But he is very useful, for all that. Every 
 year he comes to loosen the soil with his little icy 
 ploughs, so that the raindrops can reach the roots 
 and seeds in early springtime. 
 
 •• Down, down, we ran into the thirsty ground, 
 — down into rich loam that held fast nearly half 
 our band. — down through sandv soil which could 
 not stop our flowing, — clown to a bed of clay 
 whose doors were closed against us. 
 
 " How dark it was hi those tiny cells. Not one 
 ray of light to show us the way ; not a sunbeam 
 to cheer us on. 
 
 "We met cold earthworms crawling along in 
 their slender caves. Brave little creatures they 
 are, toiling there in the dark. Day after clay they 
 gnaw the leaves, and change them into loam. 
 Then back to the surface they crawl, and bring 
 their rich load. 
 
 " < The tiny mounds by earthworms cast, — 
 The richest gift in Nature's hand, — 
 Contain the life of ages past, 
 
 The hope of every flowering land. 
 
12 BBOOKS AND BROOK BASIS S. 
 
 " ' Far less of wealth should we behold, 
 Far less of happiness secure, 
 If every second mound were gold, 
 And every first a diamond pure.' 
 
 -A. E. F. 
 
 "We passed by families of queer little ants, 
 building their pretty hills. How busy they were, 
 carrying the soil to liolit and air. All over the 
 hillside, you can now see hundreds of their rich 
 mounds, waiting for the raindrops to come and 
 spread them over the surface. 
 
 " We took the loam wherever we went, and 
 placed it near the roots and seeds. We even car- 
 ried it into the plants and trees. The sun sent 
 down its warm rays, and soon all nature was 
 awake once more. 
 
 "We ran into little grass culms, where tender 
 blades had hidden from cold winter storms. Soon 
 the fields were green again. We stole up into 
 each sleeping bud, and rosy leaflets unfolded in 
 the warm sunshine. We waked up every seed hi 
 the garden, and their pretty heads came peeping 
 through the dark soil. The air was filled with 
 sweet songs of birds, and spring had come. 
 
 " i Whether we look, or whether we listen, 
 We hear life murmur, we see it glisten ; 
 
 Every clod feels a stir of might, 
 An instinct within it that reaches and towers, 
 
 And groping blindly above it for light, 
 Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers ; 
 
AT WORK IN THE BARK SOIL. 13 
 
 The cowslip startles in meadows green, 
 
 The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice, 
 
 And there's never a leaf nor a blade too mean 
 To be some happy creature's palace.' 
 
 — Lowell. 
 
 " Soon the snowy blossoms on the apple-trees 
 hung like clouds. The violets in the meadow 
 looked like the clear blue sky above. Still we 
 toiled on in the dark ground. 
 
 " Day after day, merry showers pattered down. 
 One morning, as the silver drops came singing 
 from the clouds, we heard them shout, ' Catch us, 
 if you can ! ' 
 
 "Away they scampered clown the hill, for the 
 soil had water enough. 
 
 " ' Wait for me ! ' cried one little fellow, and 
 where do you think it was ? It had fallen straight 
 into the tiniest buttercup on the whole hillside, 
 and could not get out. It looked just like a dia- 
 mond set in a little golden crown, only it was 
 much prettier. Perhaps a passing sunbeam helped 
 it out next day, but no one waited to see. 
 
 ••Weeks passed. The apple-blossoms sifted 
 down like snow. Golden grain waved in the 
 meadow. Rich yellow corn flung out its silken 
 tassels along our brookside. 
 
 " l All the long August afternoon, 
 
 The little drowsy stream 
 Whispers a melancholy tune, 
 
 As if it dreamed of June 
 And whispered in its dream.' 
 
 — W. D. Howells. 
 
1-1 BROOKS AXD BROOK BASINS. 
 
 "At length the branches hung low with ripe 
 fruit. Yellow sheaves dotted the stubbly meadow. 
 Long ears of corn stood ripening in the sun. Out 
 in the grain fields we heard happy voices sing- 
 ing — 
 
 " i Heap high the farmer's wintry hoard ! 
 Heap high the golden grain ! 
 No richer gift has Autumn poured 
 From out her lavish horn ! 
 
 " ' Through vales of grass, and meads of flowers, 
 Our ploughs their furrows made, 
 While on the hills the sun and showers 
 Of changeful April played. 
 
 a ( 
 
 We dropped the seed o'er hill and plain, 
 
 Beneath the sun of May, 
 And frightened from the sprouting grain 
 
 The robber crows away. 
 
 " ' All through the long bright days of June, 
 Its leaves grew green and fair, 
 And waved in hot midsummer's noon, 
 Its soft and yellow hair. 
 
 " i And now with Autumn's moonlit eves, 
 Its harvest time has come, 
 We pluck away the frosted sheaves, 
 And bear the harvest home.' 
 
 — Whittier. 
 
 " At length our long, cold journey was ended, 
 and we could come out of the dark soil, as other 
 little raindrops had every day, and could play 
 with the sunbeams once more. Soon we should 
 be home again ! How happy we were ! 
 
AT WORK IS THE BARK SOIL. 15 
 
 " Have you ever seen a spring ? You should 
 have been there to see us burst from ground. I 
 will tell you what it was like. 
 
 " Go all the way up the hillside where we have 
 been flowing. Gather up every merry ripple, every 
 silver bubble, every sparkling sunbeam. 
 
 " Take even the tiny whirlpools with their flakes 
 of foam, — the gliding sheets and flying spray. 
 Over all sprinkle a dozen of the brightest rain- 
 bows you have ever seen. 
 
 " Now carry them to yonder green spot on the 
 hillside, where the pretty flowers love to cluster 
 round; and there beneath the branches of the 
 graceful willow, bury them deep in the dark, cold 
 ground. 
 
 " Then, when the sweet-voiced birds are awake, 
 and the air is heavy with perfume, — there, where 
 the sunbeams seem to beckon, let them all burst 
 forth like a Jack-in-a-box, and run sparkling, 
 bubbling, prattling, dancing, clashing down the 
 hillside, and you will see our spring. Now — 
 
 " i I'm hastening from the distant hills, 
 With swift and noisy flowing ; 
 Nursed by a thousand tiny rills, 
 I'm ever onward going. 
 
 " ' The willows cannot stay my course, 
 With all their pliant wooing ; 
 I sing and sing till I am hoarse, 
 My prattling way pursuing. 
 
16 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 
 
 " i I kiss the pebbles as I pass, 
 
 And hear them say they love me, 
 I make obeisance to the grass 
 That kindly bends above me. 
 
 " ' So onward through the meads and dells 
 I hasten, never knowing 
 The secret motive that impels, 
 Or whither I am going.' " 
 
 — Eugene Field. 
 
 As the voice of the brooklet seemed to die away 
 in soft ripples along the banks, two nimble squir- 
 rels sprang from the old stone wall, and ran down 
 to the edge of the water. Can you guess what 
 they whispered to the little brook ? 
 
 This was the kind and gentle answer : " yes, 
 be sure to come ! We know that you meant no 
 harm. But remember that — 
 
 " i Small service is true service while it lasts ; 
 
 Of meanest friends, bright creatures, scorn not one ; 
 The daisy, by the shadow that it casts, 
 
 Protects the lingering dewdrop from the sun.' 
 
 — Wordsworth. 
 
 "We like to see you sporting among the 
 branches, and we have helped to fill a great oak 
 with sweet acorns for you to store away for the 
 long, cold winter. 
 
 " Come early to-morrow, and you shall hear 
 about the beautiful valley in which you live. 
 
 " Good by ! " 
 
AT WORK iy THE DARK SOIL. 17 
 
 - Good by ! " 
 
 Surely enough, when the brooklet began its 
 story next morning, there sat Chip and Dick on 
 the bank, looking just as happy as good little 
 
 squirrels ought to look. 
 
18 BROOKS ASD BROOK BASIXS. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 OX THE WATER-PARTING. 
 
 "Behold the rocky wall 
 That down its sloping sides 
 Pours the swift raindrops, blending, as they fall, 
 In rushing river-tides ! 
 
 "Yon stream, whose sources run, 
 Turned by a pebble's edge, 
 Is Athabasca, rolling towards the sun 
 
 Through the cleft mountain ledge. 
 
 " The slender rill had strayed, 
 But for the slanting stone, 
 To evening's ocean, with the tangled braid 
 Of foam-flecked Oregon." 
 
 — Holmes. 
 
 " Heke you are, little squirrels, bright and 
 early," babbled the brook, next morning. " But 
 where is our pretty friend Bunny ? 
 
 " Ah, there he comes, hopping along. And here 
 comes Robin Redbreast, too." 
 
 The little wild-flower nodded its round head, 
 and the squirrels shook their bushy tails. That is 
 the way they said good morning to Bunny and 
 Redbreast. 
 
Bunny's Home. 
 
CLY THE WATEB-PARTIXG. 19 
 
 ''Did all the raindrops sink into the dark soil?" 
 asked Chip, as soon as they were ready for the 
 story. 
 
 " no ! ' rippled the brook. " Shall I tell you 
 what became of the others, and what they saw on 
 the hillside ? " 
 
 " Please do ! ' chimed the whole party, and so 
 the brooklet began. 
 
 " We all felt very sad when we parted from our 
 brother raindrops on the hilltop. But some were 
 on one side of a low ridge, and some on the other. 
 TTe could not climb over, for raindrops can only 
 run down hill. 
 
 " • Good by ! ' cried our tiny brothers. 
 
 •• * Good by ! ? we answered sadly, and we have not 
 seen them since. Perhaps we shall all meet again 
 when we go back to the sea, — but who can tell?" 
 
 Just then, two silver bubbles came wriggling up 
 from the bed of the brook. Thev looked like tear- 
 drops, and we thought the pretty pebbles must be 
 weeping at the sad story. But the brooklet chat- 
 tered on. 
 
 *• The same day that we fell on the hill, a teacher 
 came with a class of happy children to visit our 
 valley home. She did not know that raindrops 
 could hear, and we did not tell her. 
 
 •• They all climbed to the top of the ridge, just 
 where we had fallen. Then thev could look into 
 the vallev on either side. 
 
20 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 
 
 "'When the rain falls on the very top of the 
 ■ridge, which way will the drops flow ? ' asked the 
 teacher. 
 
 "Every little raindrop on the hillside knew the 
 answer ; but we all kept still. 
 
 " Many pupils said that the water would flow into 
 our valley, but others thought that it would run 
 down the slope on the other side of the ridge. 
 One bright little girl said that it might flow either 
 way. 
 
 ••Then the teacher asked them to find other spots 
 where the raindrops might turn either way. She 
 gave them sharp sticks to set up all along the very 
 top of the ridge. 
 
 "'Here's a place ! ' * Here's another ! ' rang their 
 merry voices. What sport they had! One little 
 boy hit his bare toe against a stump, and away he 
 rolled down the steep hillside. It didn't hurt him, 
 and he ran back laughing. 
 
 " Soon there was a long row of tinv stakes all 
 around the valley, — up by the spring, and on both 
 sides. Then the teacher told her little folks that 
 the very top of the ridge, on which the poles stood, 
 was called a ' water-parting.' We all thought it 
 a good name, for that was just where we parted 
 from our raindrop brothers last spring. 
 
 " The little children found only one water-parting 
 around our valley, but my tiny rills know that 
 there are two. Many of the drops that soak into 
 
OX THE WATER-PARTING, 21 
 
 the soil settle till they reach a layer of clay or 
 rock on which they can flow. The highest part of 
 this clay-bed or ledge forms a parting or i divide ' 
 for the underground streams, just as the top of our 
 ridge does for the surface-water. 
 
 "But we must not lose sight of the teacher yet. 
 Her next question was a queer one : ' To which 
 valley does the water-parting belong?' 
 
 "Do you think that you can tell, pretty rabbit?" 
 
 " I think that it belongs to both," was Bunny's 
 answer. 
 
 " It isn't in either." piped Redbreast. 
 
 "It comes just between the valleys." said Chip. 
 
 " I don't know/" sighed the little wild-flower, 
 "for I have never moved from this spot." 
 
 The old gray squirrel gave a knowing wink, and 
 said. " That water-parting is on the edge of both 
 valleys. The slopes meet there." 
 
 Which was right ? 
 
 The silver brook only bubbled softly, as it went 
 on with its story. 
 
 " That ridge is the boundary of our valley home. 
 All the raindrops that fall on this side belong in 
 our family. All that fall on the other side run 
 away to other streams. But here comes a shower! 
 If Bunny and Dick will go up to the ridge, they 
 can see just what happens." 
 
 Away they jumped, and reached the top as the 
 drops began to fall. 
 
22 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 
 
 "Come under this old stump, Bunny," said 
 Dick, "and the rain will not wet your soft fur." 
 
 How pretty they looked, sitting there together ! 
 Two pairs of bright eyes peeped out at the rain. 
 Two pairs of sharp ears listened to the patter on 
 the old stump. 
 
 " look, Bunny ! we are on the water-parting. 
 Here is just where the raindrops are parting. 
 Many are also sinking into the ground. Here go 
 some down this slope, and there go the others into 
 our valley. See! they are forming two little 
 rills." 
 
 " It has stopped raining now, Dick. Let us fol- 
 low these tiny streams both ways. I will go to 
 the right, and you to the left. Then we will re- 
 turn to the brookside, and tell what we have 
 seen." 
 
 #JA, M. JA. J*. J*. JL 
 
 ^F w tv> ~rr tF tF 
 
 "Why, here comes the rabbit all alone ! " sighed 
 the little wild-flower. "What has happened to 
 Dick?" 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! " laughed Bunny. "I played a joke 
 on him. He will come back by and by. Shall I 
 tell you what I saw?" 
 
 " yes, tell us your story. We have been wait- 
 ing to hear it." 
 
 So Bunny told how they went to the top of the 
 hill, and hid in the dry stump. How they watched 
 the drops fall on the ridge. How he had agreed 
 
OX THE WATEB-PABTISG. 23 
 
 to follow the rill on one side, while Dick went 
 down the other. 
 
 ••It was such a joke! Ha! ha! Poor Dick, he 
 did not think ! His rill will lead him away over 
 into the other valley." Then Bunny rolled in the 
 sand, and laughed till tears ran down his soft 
 cheeks. 
 
 "But what did you see. Bunny ? " asked Chip. 
 
 "0 yes, I forgot to tell my story. The tiny 
 streams moved slowly at first, till they came to 
 the place where the boy rolled down the hill. 
 Then they pitched headlong over and ran to the 
 bottom as fast as I could jump. 
 
 " How pretty they looked as they went leaping 
 over the stones. Many little rills flowed together, 
 but there were low water-partings between the 
 others that kept them from joining. They had a 
 merry time. I heard one little fellow singing — 
 
 " l One morn I ran away, 
 A madcap, noisy rill ; 
 And many a prank that day, 
 I played adown the hill.' 
 
 — Anon. 
 
 " Then the tiny streams wound slowly across the 
 meadow, and w r here do you think they went ?' : 
 
 •• Here we are ! " rang a merry chorus. 
 
 Surely enough, all the little rills had run into 
 our brook, and had just reached the place where 
 Bunny was telling his story. 
 
24 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 
 
 "Here comes Dick!" cried sharp-eyed Chip, as 
 down the hillside tripped the graceful squirrel, 
 hopping over the tufts and hollows. 
 
 His first words were, " That was a good joke, 
 Bunny, but it turned out well. I found a big nut- 
 tree over the ridge. As soon as the frost comes to 
 open the burrs, I shall hide the nuts away under 
 the old stump. I wish you could eat some, Bunny. 
 Little Chip may have as many as he wants this 
 winter." 
 
 "You are always kind to me," whispered Chip, 
 as he rubbed his pretty cheek against Dick's soft 
 fur. 
 
 "But what else did you see over the ridge?" 
 rustled the wild-flower. 
 
 " I followed the rills on the other side till they 
 all flowed into another brook just like ours. Now 
 what do you think of this ? That little stream was 
 telling the selfsame story that we heard yesterday. 
 I wonder if all brooks work as hard as ours?" 
 queried Dick. 
 
 Robin Redbreast was very quiet. He had been 
 thinking. All at once he dipped his head, as 
 robins often do, gave a few quick hops, flapped his 
 wings, and chirped so loud that he scared poor 
 Bunny half out of his wits. 
 
 "What is the matter?" asked Dick, as he stuck 
 his tail straight out, ready to run. 
 
 "When I flew northward last spring," piped 
 
ON THE WATER-PARTING. 25 
 
 Redbreast, "I was caught by a strong wind that 
 blew me far out of my course. I saw a great 
 stream, wider than this whole meadow. I cannot 
 tell how long it was, for it reached farther than I 
 could see. 
 
 ••How the wind blew I I flew over high hills, 
 vet I could always see the river in the valley. 
 But as I went higher and higher up the long slope, 
 the stream became ever smaller and smaller. 
 
 ••At length I saw a high mountain whose top 
 was above the clouds. On its side, the stream 
 looked very narrow. Over the great highland I 
 flew, and saw onlv a little brook starting: near its 
 highest point. 
 
 ••Then, on the other side. I saw another stream, 
 — yes. many little rills and brooklets. Down they 
 ran. and flowed together in the lowlands. Thev 
 made a river that was wide and deep. It was just 
 like our brook, onlv many times larger. Awav. 
 as far as I could see. the dark-blue river wound 
 across the plain. 
 
 " ' So blue yon winding river flows. 
 It seems an outlet from the sky ; 
 Where, waiting till the west wind blow-. 
 
 The freighted clouds at anchor lie." 
 
 Longfellow. 
 
 "At length the storm passed by. Then I flew 
 north to my old apple-tree, just as fast as my wings 
 could carry me. 
 
26 BROOKS AND BROOK BASIXS. 
 
 " Now I see it all ! The top of that high moun- 
 tain is a water-parting like our low ridge. It parts 
 the raindrops for those great rivers, as the ridge 
 does for our brooks." 
 
 " You are right, little bird/' rippled the brook. 
 "But all water-partings are not high, or even like 
 ours on the hill. Some are so low that you can 
 scarcely see them. Yet they part great rivers. 
 
 " A parting may be on mountains, hills, or even 
 low plains. Often it is on all three, for it must 
 go around a valley. It need only be high enough 
 to part the raindrops." 
 
 The pretty wild-flower nodded to Redbreast, and 
 whispered, " What a wonderful bird you are ! ' 
 
 All the others thought so, too. 
 
IN THE BROOK-BED. 27 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 IN THE BROOK-BED. 
 
 "Good morning, Dick." 
 
 " Good morning, Bunny ; where are you going ? " 
 "Down to the brookside. We shall find Chip 
 and Redbreast there before us, this morning. I 
 saw them pass by some time ago. There they are 
 now. And hark ! that is the brooklet singing. 
 Let us sit here on this pretty knoll and listen." 
 
 " ( I chatter over stony ways, 
 In little sharps and trebles, 
 I bubble into eddying bays, 
 I babble on the pebbles. 
 
 " ' I wind about and in and out, 
 With here a blossom sailing, 
 And here and there a lusty trout, 
 And here and there a grayling. 
 
 "'And here and there a foamy flake 
 Upon me as I travel, 
 With many a silvery water-break 
 Among my golden gravel. 
 
 "'I draw them all along and flow 
 
 To join the brimming river, 
 
 For men may come and men may go, 
 
 But I go on forever.' n 
 
 — Tennyson: 
 
28 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 
 
 " Bravo, little brook ! ' shouted the rabbit. 
 " What a pretty song ! ,: 
 
 " Here are Bunny and Dick/' called out the lively 
 chipmonk. -"Now you can begin your story." 
 
 " What shall it be to-day, Chip ? ' asked the 
 brooklet. 
 
 " 0, tell us, please, how the raindrops found their 
 way into the brook-bed," said the happy little 
 creature; and so the silver drops in the passing 
 stream began their story. 
 
 " We told you how we came out in the bubbling 
 spring, but we did not tell you that there are sev- 
 eral of these sparkling fountains in our valley. 
 All around the foot of the hill, and on its sides, 
 you will find them creeping forth to form the tiny 
 rills and brooklets. 
 
 "When we came out of the dark ground, we 
 found many slopes on the hillside. Some were so 
 steep that we could roll straight down into little 
 pools. Others were covered with sharp rocks that 
 cut us into foamy sheets. In one place, we ran so 
 fast that a barefoot boy who came to fish clapped 
 his hands and shouted, ' 0, see the pretty rapids ! ' 
 
 " Now we would only glide over the yellow sand, 
 without a ripple on the smooth surface. Then the 
 banks would almost meet, and how we would rush 
 through ! Again they would widen, and spread us 
 out into round ponds. 
 
 "So you see, my little friends, that a brook must 
 
IN THE BROOK-BED. 29 
 
 follow its slope. If it rushes, if it glides, if it 
 courses straight away, or winds about, it is because 
 it obeys the slope of its bed." 
 
 "But why must you always run down hill?" 
 asked Dick. 
 
 " That we cannot tell. The snow-white blos- 
 soms fall to earth. Later, the apples follow. Our 
 pretty robin beats the air with his wings, and 
 floats upwards into the sky. But let him furl 
 those tiny sails, and he falls with the apple. 
 
 " We only know that something draws us down 
 the slope. We feel it at work, and call it 'grav- 
 ity.' Sometime we may know what it is. 
 
 ••Moved by the same secret force, many streams 
 flow clown all sides of our valley. They reach the 
 place where the side-slopes meet, and then where 
 do you think they go ? ' 
 
 " They cannot flow back again," said the wild- 
 flower, meekly. "They must make ponds." 
 
 " The slopes are so wide that the place where 
 they meet is a long hollow," chirped the robin. 
 "If they form a pond, it must be very long." 
 
 " The slopes meet in the bottom of our valley, 
 too," added Dick, looking about. " But I cannot 
 see any long pond here." 
 
 The brooklet seemed to chuckle at the answer, 
 and dimpled waves ran from shore to shore. 
 
 " 0, I see ! ' rustled the wild-flower. " It is in, 
 the bed of our own brook ! " 
 
SO BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 
 
 " So it is ! ' chimed the merry voices ; and they 
 all laughed heartily to think how long they had 
 tried to find the place where the slopes met. 
 
 " We ought to have seen that, Bunny," said 
 Dick. " Only yesterday we followed the rills down 
 the slopes, and saw them run into the brook. Yes, 
 the side-slopes of our valley meet in the bed of the 
 stream." 
 
 "And I see why the brook always flows one 
 way," cried Chip. " It is because the bed slopes 
 from the source towards the mouth." 
 
 " Now I know why all streams are not alike," 
 piped Redbreast. " Small ones flow in little valleys, 
 and have only short slopes to drain." 
 
 " But the stream in a large valley would be 
 small if only a few showers fell on its slopes," 
 added the wild-flower. 
 
 " Deep beds must lie along the lower edges of 
 steep slopes," said Dick ; " and I should think that 
 gradual slopes, like these in the meadow, would 
 form wide streams." 
 
 " But why do some brooks wind about ?" asked 
 the robin. 
 
 " They must follow the low line along which the 
 slopes meet," was Bunny's answer. " If the slopes 
 come together in a straight line, the stream will be 
 straight. In the gently sloping meadow, the bed 
 winds more than it does on the steep hillside. 
 Slow brooks must wander about more than swift 
 
 ones." 
 
IN THE BROOK-BED. 31 
 
 "You are right, Bunny/' bubbled the stream. 
 <6 That is nearly always true of large rivers as well 
 as tiny rills. A swift stream can wear a straight 
 bed for itself, by cutting away the lower edges of 
 the side-slopes. But a slow one is easily turned 
 aside. 
 
 " Sometimes a bed widens into a valley with in- 
 ward slopes on all sides. Then the stream spreads 
 out and forms a pond or lake. Nearly all ponds 
 are wide places in brooks ; and nearly all lakes are 
 still wider places in rivers. 
 
 " During a rainy season, ponds and lakes store 
 up water and prevent it from making torrents in 
 brooks and rivers. Low bogs and marshy places 
 also hold back a part of the rainfall, and feed 
 the streams during drv seasons. 
 
 "Marshes are often half pond and half meadow. 
 They are like shallow ponds filled with growing 
 mosses, ferns, and coarse grasses ; but they help to 
 regulate the supply of water, and to prevent 
 streams from overflowing their banks. 
 
 •• Now if you will look at the branches or tribu- 
 taries flowing into the main brook, you will find 
 that there are three kinds. There is the little 
 stream that runs down the steep hillside, and winds 
 a long way across the meadow. Another flows 
 nearly its whole length on the bluffs or low plateau, 
 and then leaps clown into a small pool near our 
 rapids. A third rises on the bluffs, and reaches 
 
32 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 
 
 the lowland by a series of cascades and rapids, like 
 a stairway. 
 
 "If we were to travel the wide world over, we 
 should see countless streams, large and small, wide 
 and narrow, deep and shallow, rapid and slow. 
 But each would have a slope like one of these three 
 tributaries. We will therefore call our three slopes, 
 down which the little brooks flow, ' types ' of the 
 slopes that send all streams to the sea. 
 
 " Put on your thinking-caps now, my wise little 
 friends, and tell me the difference between a water- 
 parting and a brook-bed." 
 
 " The parting is a ridge, and the bed a valley,'' 
 came the first answer from the nodding wild- 
 flower. 
 
 "You are a bright-eyed posy," said Bunny. 
 " When Dick and I were under the old stump, we 
 saw the ridge part the raindrops, and we know 
 that the tiny rills brought many of them to our 
 brook-bed in the valley." 
 
 XJ 
 
 " The water-parting goes around the valley, but 
 the brook-beds cut across," chattered the lively 
 chipmonk. 
 
 " I think that the bed is just like the parting," 
 began Dick. " Where the edges of the slopes join 
 on the ridge, they form a water-parting. Where 
 they meet in the valley, they make a brook-bed." 
 
 " If they are alike, Dick," piped Redbreast, 
 " why doesn't the brook-bed scatter the rain- 
 drops ? " 
 
IN THE BROOK-BED. 33 
 
 " I see ! " called out Chip ; and surely enough the 
 little fellow did. " The parting is where the upper 
 edges of the slopes come together, while the lower 
 edges meet in the deepest part of the brook-bed, — 
 in the channel." 
 
 " Well done, Chip ! " cried Dick. "We thought 
 that out very well together, didn't we ? The bed 
 is the bottom of the valley, and the parting is the 
 top or rim." 
 
 " You have all clone well," rippled the happy 
 brook. " Now I will tell you another name for 
 our valley. It is called a ' brook basin.' All the 
 land that sends its raindrops to the streams in our 
 valley belongs to our basin. 
 
 " Shall I tell you of a great river-bed that I once 
 saw as I went sailing over the earth in the white- 
 winded clouds ? 
 
 " Far away beyond the hill over which the sun 
 rose this morning, there is a great forest. Eobin 
 would have to fly straight away for many long 
 days and nights to reach it. Indeed, I fear our 
 little bird would die on the way, for he would have 
 to try to cross the wide ocean. His strong wings 
 would need to rest many times, and he would fall 
 into the sea. 
 
 " One time we floated over there in a great 
 cloud. We saw lakes so wide that their shores 
 were below the horizon on every side. There were 
 mountains, too, so high that their white tops 
 
84 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 
 
 seemed to touch the sky. They looked just like 
 the great banks of rain-clouds that often roll up 
 before a storm. 
 
 " There were also countless streams, — some 
 rising in the mountains, others flowing from the 
 lakes. At length we saw the place where they all 
 ran together and formed a river that was deep 
 and wide. 
 
 " Many of the raindrops fell from the clouds, 
 and started on a long journey with this mighty 
 stream. 
 
 " You should see the water rushing over the 
 steep places in the rocky bed. How it roars and 
 foams ! 
 
 " Far below, it glides along towards another 
 high bank. Down it plunges with a crash like 
 thunder. Here and there other streams flow in, 
 till it looks like a long, wide lake, reaching from 
 sky to sky, across a great plain. 
 
 "Day after day it glides and rushes along its 
 bed. Then it flows through a land where no more 
 rain falls, and no other streams come to join it. 
 For miles and miles it has not a single tributary. 
 
 " On every side the hot sun beats down. The 
 air is stifling. The banks are parched and dry. 
 Can anything live in such a place ? We shall see 
 by and by. 
 
 "Down, down we go. Weeks pass. Still the 
 same hot sun, the stifling air, the shining stream, 
 
iy THE BROOK-BED. 35 
 
 the thirsty soil. \There is the water going ? 
 What is it doing ? 
 
 " At length we see roimclecl house-tops. We 
 flow under wide bridges. AVe pass large cities. 
 Then the river divides and flows slowly among 
 hundreds of low islands, till it pours its muddy 
 water into a great salt sea. 
 
 " This is the wonderful river Nile that flows 
 through a vast desert. Sometime I will tell you 
 what the great stream does as it follows its bed 
 over the slopes of that dry country. Now. my 
 little friends, I must bid you good night, for 
 air ea civ — 
 
 " i Day hath put on his jacket, and around 
 
 ;ta 
 
 — Holmes. 
 
 His burning bosom buttoned it with stars.' ' 
 
36 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 BROOK BASIXS AXD SYSTEMS. 
 
 " ' Thou, ever joyous rivulet, 
 Dost dimple, leap, and prattle yet ; 
 And sporting with the sands that pave 
 
 The windings of thy silver wave, 
 And dancing to thy own wild chime, 
 Thou laughest at the lapse of time.' " 
 
 — Bryant. 
 
 Thus sang the cheerful robin, while he flew down 
 to join his friends by the brookside, next morning, 
 as Bunny asked the silvery drops to tell how they 
 found their way out of the cold ground. 
 
 " 0, that was easy enough. We just ran along 
 till we found a place where the clay-bed came to 
 the surface on the hillside." 
 
 " But how did you know which way to flow?' 
 chirped the robin. 
 
 " At first we did not know. But when many 
 raindrops met on the bed of clay, we soon found 
 a way. Isn't it strange that in this wide world of 
 ours, there is no level land where the raindrops 
 fall ? " 
 
 " Ho, ho, Master Brooklet ! ' cried Dick. 
 
BROOK BASINS AND SYSTEMS. 37 
 
 •• Where are your eyes ? Our own meadow is 
 just as level as the pond." 
 
 But the watchful wild-flower knew better than 
 that. Had it not seen the dimpled waves go danc- 
 ing by all summer ? 
 
 " Can you tell me why our brook doesn't flow 
 the other way, Dick ? ' it whispered softly. 
 
 " Chip, chip ! hurrah for posy ! ' sang a merry 
 voice from under the leaves. 
 
 " You are right, little flower," bubbled the 
 stream. " I could not move if the meadow were 
 level. In the open air I must flow down the 
 slopes, except when the sunbeams spread my vapor- 
 wings. Where water runs, the land must change 
 its level." 
 
 "But wait," replied Dick. "Here is a pond in 
 which the water only stands, and does not flow 
 away." Then he blinked his bright eye as if to 
 say, " How do you explain that ? " 
 
 The wild-flower only nodded and asked, " Why 
 does it not spread out evenly over the whole 
 meadow ?" 
 
 ""Because the banks hold, — oh, I see!' said 
 the honest squirrel. " The land must slope 
 towards the pond. Our meadow looks level, but 
 it must slope a little. If the meadow were as high 
 in one place as in another, the water could not 
 drain away, could it ? 
 
 " Then there would be no brooks, no ponds, — 
 
38 BROOKS AXD BROOK BASINS. 
 
 only muddy fields. The whole surface would be 
 covered with water. All the plants would die. 
 There would be no hills, no valleys, no streams. 
 Poor Bunny could not dig in the ground, and I 
 don't know what the squirrels would find to eat. 
 Why ! the salt ocean would flow over the land, 
 and then — but we need not think of that, for the 
 fields do slope." 
 
 " Yes/' added the brook, " even the beds of rock 
 and clay beneath the surface slope. That is how 
 the raindrops got out of the dark soil. We just 
 ran along on the clay-bed, and leaped into the 
 warm air. 
 
 " When there has been no rain for weeks, the 
 water that is in the soil keeps flowing out. The 
 ponds and marshes also give up their store of water, 
 and the streams flow on during the dry season. 
 
 " Which of you can tell me how much land is 
 drained by our brook ? ' : 
 
 " All the land in the valley sends its water to 
 the brook-bed," piped the robin. 
 
 " You must drain all the slopes on this side of 
 the highland," said Chip. 
 
 "All the land that slopes downward to the 
 brook-bed must send its water into the brook," 
 added Dick. 
 
 " The whole basin within the water-parting must 
 drain into our brook-bed," was Bunny's answer. 
 
 "Is every basin bounded by a water-parting ? ' : 
 asked the wild-flower. 
 
BROOK BASINS AXD SYSTEMS. 39 
 
 "Yes, every basin on earth/' rippled the stream. 
 " Beyond the hill, there is another valley in which 
 Dick saw a brooklet flowing. The slopes that 
 meet to form its bed stretch upwards on both 
 sides till they reach the rims of other basins. 
 
 "The upper edges of these slopes are water- 
 partings, or lines of highest level, between the val- 
 leys. 
 
 " Little rills have basins also, bounded by lower 
 water-partings ; and so have ponds, lakes, rivers, 
 and even the great oceans. The surface of the 
 whole earth is made up of basins and beds sur- 
 rounded by a network of water-partings. 
 
 " Now let us begin at the rim of our valley and 
 trace all the streams. First, there are the tiny 
 rills that trickle among the grasses during a rain- 
 storm, and form the thread-like rivulets. Then 
 these little streams wind about to join our brook. 
 • "All the streams together form a c system/ by 
 which the valley or basin is drained. A system in 
 a brook basin is called a ' brook system '; in a 
 river basin, a ' river system.' Thus we may have 
 also a ' lake svstem,' or an w ocean system.' 
 
 " Then there are other streams that belong in 
 our brook system, but which we cannot see. They 
 are the tiny rills that flow underground and feed 
 the springs. We must not forget these little 
 branches, for they are as useful as the surface rills. 
 
 " Between a basin and its system there are lines 
 
40 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS 
 
 which we call ' shores. 5 Thev are the lines along; 
 which the slopes pass under the water, or the lines 
 which show how high the water rises in the beds. 
 Shores are the boundary lines of beds. Thev are 
 also the lower edges of basins. A shore separates 
 a bed from a basin. 
 
 " If we wished to be very exact, we should per- 
 haps say that a basin is bounded at its upper edge 
 by a water-parting, at its lower edge by a shore, 
 and that the basin is made up of the slopes that 
 lie between. 
 
 •• Now I have a few questions to ask you. and 
 then I will tell you of a great river valley that I 
 saw a few years ago. far away towards the midday 
 sun. 
 
 " What is the difference between a basin and a 
 system ? " : 
 
 "A basin is land, and a system is water." said 
 Chip. 
 
 " I should say that a basin is made of slopes, 
 and a system of streams." was Bunny's answer. 
 
 " Doesn't a system carry water away from a 
 basin ? " 
 
 ••It does, bright flower." replied Dick. "I do 
 hope that you will grow here again next summer. 
 AVe should be very lonely without you. I shall 
 look for you as soon as the snow melts." 
 
 The pretty wild-flower trembled, it was so happy. 
 Then it nodded its little head as if to say. u Yes, I 
 will try to be here with you all." 
 
BROOK BASINS AND SYSTEMS. 41 
 
 Just then the brooklet asked another question : 
 " Have the basins of all our rivulets the same 
 shape?" 
 
 ' ; 0, no ! ' chirped the robin. i: I saw one, as I 
 came along this morning, that spreads out like a 
 maple-leaf. It is near the old pine, and is as long 
 as it is wide." 
 
 " Near the large spring there is a basin that lies 
 among a group of knolls," said Bunny. "There is 
 a long narrow valley leading from it towards the 
 meadow. The upper part of the basin looks like 
 a water-lily leaf, with the narrow valley for its 
 slender stem. The tiny streams that flow in it 
 look like a beautiful vase-shaped elm with wide- 
 spreading top on a long trunk." 
 
 " Between the two bluffs, on the east side of the 
 pond, there is a very long basin that is shaped like 
 a blade of grass," added Dick. "And there is 
 another very queer one in the rough land near the 
 spring. It is like a row of leaves on a single stem. 
 There are four round valleys joined by narrow 
 gullies. In each valley there is a small pond, but 
 one slender stream runs through all." 
 
 "You have sharp eyes, my friends/' rippled the 
 brook. " There are hundreds of basins shaped 
 like each of these, and so we will call the valleys 
 of our little rivulets •' types ' of the great river 
 basins that cover the earth's surface. Now for my 
 story of the Amazon : 
 
42 BROOKS AXD BROOK BASINS. 
 
 "It is nearly midday, and if Redbreast should 
 fly far south to the land just under the sun, he 
 would see hundreds of white-capped mountains. 
 They are many times higher than the one which 
 he flew over in the storm. 
 
 "All along the east side of this great highland 
 there are countless streams flowing in as many 
 basins. If we could see ten times as far, we could 
 see ten times as many. 
 
 "'Down the steep slopes they run, sparkling in 
 the clear sunlight. Here and there tliev flow 
 together, just like our slender rivulets, only many 
 times wider and deeper. 
 
 "Now they enter a dense forest, and from all 
 sides other streams come in, till they form a great 
 river. Its basin is so wide that we cannot see 
 across it. 
 
 "On, on, for days and weeks, it winds along a 
 low plain, through a forest so thick that the sun- 
 light can scarcely creep in. Again and again 
 great rivers flow in, till it looks like a vast sea. 
 Its basin is so wide that if our robin should flv all 
 day and all night he could not cross it. 
 
 " At length the mighty stream pours its muddy 
 water into the dark-blue ocean, and the raindrops 
 that fell on the distant mountain sides have 
 reached their home. All the rills and rivulets, 
 brooks and rivers, that join to make this great 
 stream belong to the Amazon system ; while every 
 
Trace the Water Partings. 
 
BBOOK BASINS AND SYSTEMS. 43 
 
 slope that sends one drop of water towards the 
 dark forest, and into the broad river, is a part of 
 the Amazon basin." 
 
 As the brooklet ended its story, the sun sank 
 slowly behind the low hills. The evening breeze 
 came floating into the valley, and seemed to 
 whisper — 
 
 " The clay is done, and the darkness 
 Falls from the wings of night, 
 As a feather is wafted downward 
 From an eagle in its flight." 
 
 — Longfellow. 
 
44 BBOOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 HOW SOIL IS MADE AND CARRIED. 
 
 " See the brooklets flowing, 
 Downward to the sea, 
 Pouring all their treasures 
 Bountiful and free ! 
 
 " Yet to help their giving, 
 Hidden springs arise; 
 Or, if need be, showers 
 Feed them from the skies." 
 
 — Adelaide A. Procter. 
 
 "Ah! it has been raining/' thought Bunny , as 
 he peeped from his burrow to see the sunrise. 
 
 " How the water has worn the hillside ! See the 
 little valleys it has made. It must have rained 
 very hard. I will call for Dick and Chip, and then 
 hurry down to the brook. What a wonderful story 
 it will have to tell this morning." 
 
 #•&. M, M. J£. JA. «!£. 
 
 "75* W ^F W W *7P 
 
 "How muddy you are, little stream/' whispered 
 the wild-flower, as it shook the raindrops from its 
 pretty head. 
 
 "And how wide!'' chirped Redbreast. "But 
 here come our friends down the hillside, and now 
 we can hear the brooklet's story." 
 
HOW SOIL IS MADE AXD CARRIED. 45 
 
 " tell us. please, where all this muddy water 
 comes from/' were the first words of the chip- 
 monk. *• What will you ever do with it ? You are 
 
 t- 
 
 not nearly so pretty as you were yesterday." 
 
 " When I have told you my story. Chip, you 
 mav think that I am much prettier with my dark 
 load than when I was a clear stream. 
 
 ••Last night a heavy shower fell in our valley. 
 The hillsides were covered with tiny streams that 
 chased each other down the slopes like playful 
 squirrels. 
 
 -But my little rills were hard at work. You 
 should have seen them roll the pebbles down the 
 bluffs, and break off the sharp edges. Then they 
 washed the sand together, and rounded its corners. 
 
 •• They wore deep gullies in the steep places, 
 and carried away the finest soil. They swept the 
 light loam down the slopes. They ran away with 
 the pretty earthworm mounds and tiny ant-hills. 
 They spread the rich soil all over the meadow, and 
 some of it they even brought to me. That is why 
 I am so muddy this morning. 
 
 ••0. my little rills were not lazy last night ! 
 
 -But the work is not vet done, as you will see. 
 I am flowing towards the rapids, and will soon be 
 in the pond. I want you all to follow and see 
 what becomes of my load of silt, or fine rich soil. 
 You may also throw some sand and pebbles into 
 the rapids, and then watch closely/' 
 
46 BROOKS AXD BROOK BASINS. 
 
 Bunny and Dick scraped some gravel from the 
 bank, and it fell into the water just where it 
 rushed over the steep place in the brook-bed. 
 
 •• How muddy it is ! ' chirped the robin. " We 
 cannot see the bottom."' 
 
 ••Look here! " shouted Dick. " The pebbles have 
 all sunk in the rapids. Some are rolling down the 
 steep bed. The rushing water must be moving 
 them there." 
 
 ••And here is the sand below the rapids! " cried 
 Chip. •• It is spreading over the bed of the brook 
 like a great oak-leaf." 
 
 -Perhaps the stream cannot carry it any far- 
 ther," said Bunny. " In the pool just below the 
 rapids, the water moves very slowly." 
 
 ••Here goes the black loam!" piped Redbreast. 
 "It is flowing into the pond now." 
 
 They all ran quickly to the spot, and surely 
 enough, there it was in the still water. 
 
 "Watch closely!" bubbled the brook. 
 
 •• The silt is settling now." said sharp-eyed Chip. 
 •• The bed of the pond, near where the stream flows 
 in. is nearly black. see ! it is making a bank of 
 soil there !" 
 
 •• Why doesn't it spread all over the bed of the 
 pond. Dick ? " asked the robin. 
 
 •• It may be because the water flows very slowly, 
 and must now lay clown its fine soil, just as it 
 dropped its sand near the foot of the rapids," was 
 the gray squirrel's answer. 
 
HOW SOIL 18 MADE AND CARRIED. 47 
 
 "You are right, Dick/' rippled the brook. "I 
 must leave nearly all of my silt here. I can carry 
 it no farther. It is not the current, or forward 
 motion, that keeps the sediment from settling 
 higher up the stream. It is the rolling, mixing 
 motion of the water. 
 
 "All day long I shall pour this rich loam into 
 the pond, and build the muddy bed 'higher and 
 higher. 
 
 *• Now, my little companions, you know how all 
 the brooks in the world are at work, — yes, and 
 the tiny rills and large rivers. They are all doing 
 just what you have seen me do to-day. 
 
 " They are wearing down the slopes, grinding 
 the pebbles and sand into fine soil, and carrying 
 their rich loads down to the lowlands. Grain by 
 grain, the hills are covering the valleys, for it is 
 the work of water to wear down the highlands, 
 and fill in all the low places, so that the land will 
 slope evenly from the water-partings to the sea. 
 
 " If you will look about, you will see many 
 places where the streams have been at work. All 
 along the foot of the bluffs, there are large stones 
 that have rolled down the steep slopes, after the 
 rills have washed the fine sand and loam from 
 around them. You will also find them along the 
 shore, where they have dropped from the banks. 
 
 " When I was here many years ago, the bluffs 
 were much nearer than now. But we have worn 
 
48 BROOKS AND BROOK BASIM*. 
 
 them away a little during every rainstorm, and my 
 little rills will work on to try to make the hills 
 level with the meadow. 
 
 " Now look once more at the mud-banks forming 
 in the pond. They are made of the richest soil in 
 our valley. The water is very high now, but when 
 it has settled, vou will find little islands where the 
 silt-beds are. 
 
 " When it rains again, I shall bring clown more 
 soil, and make the muddy bank still wider on the 
 pond-bed. After a long time, the little shallow 
 place will be filled with loam, and then there will 
 be no pond, but another fertile spot in the meadow. 
 The green place above the rapids shows where 
 there was once a pretty pond that has been filled 
 in this way. 
 
 "The islands that you see growing are called a 
 1 delta.' In the mouths of great rivers, deltas often 
 form so large that cities are built upon them. 
 Some are also covered with grain fields and forests. 
 Deltas are made by all muddy streams that flow 
 into ponds, lakes, seas, or any bodies of water that 
 have but little motion. Of course they cannot 
 grow in water that runs swiftly, because the silt is 
 swept away and cannot settle. 
 
 " You must not think that a delta is the only 
 place where a stream deposits its rich load. All 
 over the valley, in every nook and corner, the rain- 
 drops and rills spread the fine soil. But they 
 sweep the greater part into the lowlands. 
 
HOW SOIL 18 MADE AND CARRIED. 49 
 
 ••Wherever the water eddies into little bays and 
 becomes calm, you will find a dark muddy bottom. 
 There you will also see the water-plants growing. 
 All up and clown my shores, behind nearly every 
 bend in my course, along every part of the banks 
 where the current is weak, the fertile land is form- 
 ing. 
 
 •• But my greatest work is done along the beds 
 of the tiny rills that spring into life only during a 
 rainstorm. Wee little streams thev are, trickling 
 clown every part of the slopes, — so small that 
 even the tufts of grass and rounded pebbles turn 
 them aside. They flow into every crack and crev- 
 ice all over the slanting sides of our valley, and 
 spread a feast of the finest and richest soil for the 
 plants. Every time it rains the work goes on." 
 
 -But what becomes of the rills when the storm 
 is over?" asked Bunny. 
 
 "A part of their water sinks into the earth, and 
 forms underground rills that feed the springs ; 
 some creeps into the roots and seeds ; some runs 
 down the surface of the slopes and carries soil to 
 the brooks ; and some is taken away by the sun- 
 beams. 
 
 •• You can see a picture of these tiny rills if you 
 will look closely at the upper surface of a large 
 maple-leaf. The finest network that you can find 
 will show how the rills cover the slopes during 
 a heavy shower ; and just as these hair-veins all 
 
50 B BOOKS AXD BllOOK BASIS S. 
 
 lead to the great mid-vein of the leaf, so the* rills 
 all run together down the slopes, becoming larger 
 and larger as more of them are joined, till they 
 unite with the mid-stream of our valley, — the 
 brook that flows along the line of lowest levels. 
 
 " Little by little the rills wear away the slopes 
 each year, and help to lower the surface of the 
 highlands. 
 
 " There are also our cascades and rapids, where 
 the beds are steep and are often rapidly worn away. 
 Sometimes the melting snow makes torrents in the 
 narrow gullies on the hillsides. The rushing water 
 will then sweep large stones and coarse gravel 
 into the meadows, except where the trees and 
 bushes check the flow of the water and stop the 
 rolling stones. 
 
 " There were no torrents in our valley years ago, 
 when the surface was covered with trees. Only 
 about one-half as much rain fell on the ground 
 then as now, because so much was taken in by the 
 bark and leaves. A great deal also followed the 
 tree-trunks into the soil. 
 
 " Then, too, in winter the snow that lay in the 
 forest melted very slowly, because the warm sun- 
 beams could not reach it so easily, and strong 
 winds could not sweep over the drifts and scatter 
 the flakes through the air. 
 
 " In those days the streams flowed more evenly 
 than now. During the rainy season they rose a 
 
HOW SOIL IS MADE AND CARRIED. 51 
 
 little, and then fell slightly while the dry months 
 lasted. But they were never without water. 
 
 " Now when heavy rain falls, or snow melts, 
 the banks cannot hold all the water that rushes 
 down the slopes. But after weeks pass without 
 rain, and the fields are brown and bare, the brook 
 becomes only a series of muddy pools. Sometimes 
 its bed dries and cracks under the hot sun, and not 
 a drop of water can be found in it. 
 
 "What you have seen to-day, little friends, tells 
 the story of how soil is being made and carried, 
 not only in millions of brook valleys all over the 
 earth, but also in the vast river basins. 
 
 " Remember that the finest loam is carried 
 farthest, and that it does not settle till the water 
 is almost still. Then you will know why the 
 highland has coarser soil than the meadow, and 
 why the steep slope cannot produce like the more 
 level lowland. 
 
 " It is the same everywhere, — in the valley of 
 the tiniest rill on our hillside, and in the basin of 
 the mighty Amazon. Now I will tell you the 
 
 ry I promised about the Nile at work in the 
 desert : 
 
 . " Once more we will visit the high mountains. 
 The snow of winter is just melting. Hundreds of 
 little streams rush and foam down the steep 
 slopes. 
 
 " It is early morning, and a bright star shines 
 
52 BBOOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 
 
 above the first gray tints in the east. It is the 
 ' Dog Star/ and how happy the poor people in 
 the valley are to see it, for now the dry banks of 
 the Nile will — but I am ahead of my story. 
 
 " Let us watch the foaming streams as they 
 flow into the great river. It seems as if its banks 
 can hold no more. How the old stream roars as 
 it tears over the rapids ! What will become of the 
 flood that is sweeping into the valley ? 
 
 u Let us follow ! Now we can see the parched 
 banks once more. The sun is nearly overhead. 
 How hot and dry the air feels ! 0, if it would 
 only rain ! 
 
 " But look ! The river still rises, — higher and 
 higher. Now it creeps slowly over its banks ! 
 Where will it stop ? What will become of the 
 poor people ? 
 
 " See ! they are shouting and dancing for joy ! 
 What can it mean ? 
 
 " Wider and wider flows the stream. The dry 
 fields are covered. We look for the river. It is 
 gone. In its place is a long, wide lake. 
 
 " Still it spreads, — wider and wider. Will it 
 never stop ? June passes. The July sun beats 
 down. Yet the water rises. August is here, and 
 now the whole valley is covered by the wonderful 
 stream. 
 
 " At length the water begins to go back. Day 
 after day it settles. September comes and goes \ 
 
HOW SOIL IS MADE AND CARRIED. 53 
 
 and if we were there on this bright October morn- 
 ing, we should see only the muddy river, flowing 
 in its old bed once more. 
 
 "We look again for the dry banks and the 
 desert. They are not there. Everything is 
 changed. For miles on both sides, the water has 
 covered the valley with rich soil. 
 
 •• Now we know why the people were shouting 
 and dancing. The land is ready for their seeds ; 
 and soon the golden grain will wave all over the 
 valley. There will be food for the next long, dry 
 season. 
 
 , " Every year this wonderful river overflows its 
 banks when the Dog Star rises in the early morn- 
 ing. Then the heavy rainfall around its sources, 
 and the melting snow on the mountains, send 
 down the flood to spread the soil over the parched 
 valley. 
 
 " The slopes supply the food for plants, and the 
 water carries it down in that great river just as in 
 our little brook. That is why I am so muddy 
 to-day. 
 
 " Now good by till to-morrow." 
 
 Just then little Chip ran down, and whispered 
 something to the brook. TThat do you think it 
 was he said ? Then he scampered away to the 
 old oak just as fast as his little legs could carry 
 him. 
 
54 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 FORMS OF WATER. 
 
 " Fill soft and deep, winter snow, 
 The sweet azalias' oaken dells ! 
 And hide the bank where roses blow, 
 
 And swing the azure bells ! " 
 
 — Whittier. 
 
 " What lias become of my little pond on the 
 flat rock ? " chirped the robin, when the happy 
 band had gathered for a story next morning. 
 
 " Yesterday I took a bath in it, and now it is 
 gone. It could not have run out, for it was in a 
 hollow place. Where has it gone ? ' : 
 
 " If you should place a piece of ice on the rock 
 in the warm sunshine," began the brooklet, " it 
 would soon melt and form a pool. Then the 
 water would slowly change to vapor, and spread 
 through the air. We could not see it going, but 
 the rock would in time be dry. 
 
 " When dew is on the grass, the sunbeams help 
 it to float away. " There is vapor everywhere 
 about us in the air, but we cannot see it till it 
 becomes a cloud or water-dust. 
 
 " Beautiful cloudy forms often float far above 
 
FOBMS OF WATER. 55 
 
 us. where it is cold. You can see many there 
 now. Perhaps that pretty fleecy speck just over- 
 head is made in part of your pool that was on the 
 rock, little Redbreast." 
 
 " But why does water change to vapor ? " queried 
 Bunny. 
 
 " That I cannot answer/' mused the brook. " It 
 is not changed by the air, for vapor will form and 
 float about where there is no air. We know that 
 when water is heated it evaporates ; but we do 
 not know why. 
 
 " When vapor is chilled it often changes to rain- 
 drops , but no one knows why they form, or why 
 they fall. We can name the forces, but we do 
 not know why they act. 
 
 " When many drops have f alien, and the soil is 
 filled, the sun's heat changes some of them back 
 into vapor. This makes the air cooler, for each 
 tiny vapor particle always carries a warm sunbeam 
 prisoner away with it. When the vapor changes 
 again to raindrops, hailstones or snowflakes, it sets 
 the sunbeams free." 
 
 " But we often see drops of water on the grass 
 and in the spider-webs, early in the morning, when 
 it has not been raining. " said Chip. 
 
 " That is true ; and what do you think they 
 are, little chipmonk/ 1 asked the brook. 
 
 " They may be tiny raindrops that have lost 
 their way in the darkness, and have fallen from 
 the clouds/' was Chip's bright answer. 
 
56 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 
 
 " I think the clouds must weep when the sun- 
 beams leave them alone in the night, for the tear- 
 drops are soon dried when the warm beams return 
 in the morning/' said the wild-flower. 
 
 " Perhaps/' chattered Dick, "the little clouds 
 themselves, weary with flying all day, fold their 
 white wings and come down to sleep in the spiders' 
 silken hammocks, where each passing breeze will 
 swing them nearer to dreamland." 
 
 " They may be tiny rainbows, just growing," 
 added Bunny. " I am sure that I have seen all 
 the bright colors in them." 
 
 "They are my pretty cousin dewdrops," bub- 
 bled the brook. " When vapor floats against cold 
 grass or stones at night, it is changed to dew. 
 The little vapor-wings are chilled by the cold 
 objects, and they have to wait for the warm sun- 
 beams next day before they can fly away. 
 
 " One cold morning last autumn the frozen dew 
 looked just like snow in the meadow. 
 
 " ' The Frost looked forth one still, clear night, 
 And whispered, " Now, I shall be out of sight, 
 So, through the valley, and over the height, 
 
 In silence I'll take my way. 
 I will not go on like that blustering train — 
 The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain — 
 Which make so much bustle and noise in vain, 
 But Til be as busy as they." 
 
FOB MS OF WATER. 57 
 
 " ( Then he went to the mountain and powdered its crest ; 
 He climbed up the trees, and their boughs he drest 
 With diamonds and pearls, and over the breast 
 
 Of the quivering lake, he spread 
 A coat of mail, that it need not fear 
 The downward point of many a spear, 
 That he hung on its margin, far and near, 
 
 Where a rock could rear its head.' 
 
 — H. F. Gould. 
 
 " 0, you should see Jack Frost in his soft, white 
 furs, skimming about over the hills, and through 
 the vales ; peeping in at the windows, and cover- 
 ing them with silver ferns ; dressing the grass- 
 blacles in velvety ice ; hanging ivory lances on the 
 trees ; and sprinkling diamond dust in every nook 
 and corner, where a clewclrop falls asleep. 
 
 ••He even creeps into the dark soil, and changes 
 the raindrops there into sharp, icy needles. You 
 can often see them, on very cold mornings, bristling 
 like quivers of silver darts out of the gardens, 
 where they cut the hard ground into fine soft 
 soil." 
 
 •* I saw hundreds of glassy threads on our pond, 
 one day last winter," said Bunny. " Did Jack 
 Frost make them there, also ? " 
 
 " Yes ; and it is a beautiful sight to see him 
 weaving a warm icy covering over the ponds when 
 winter weather sets in. 
 
 " Just before water is cold enough to freeze, it 
 swells and rises to the surface. The ice-coat forms, 
 
58 BBOOKS AND BBOGK BASINS. 
 
 therefore, at the top instead of on the beds of 
 ponds and streams. If the freezing took place at 
 the bottom, the ponds would become solid blocks 
 of ice ; all the fish would die ; and even the warm 
 summer sun could not melt the frozen mass in 
 deep water. 
 
 " When the air is very cold and still, you can see 
 sharp needles shoot back and forth over our pond, 
 making a fine network of icy thread. Soon a 
 smooth sheet is woven, which becomes thicker and 
 thicker as long as the cold spell lasts. 
 
 " When melting, myriads of stars often appear 
 in the ice, like snowflakes with their six silver 
 rays meeting in points that glisten like dewdrops." 
 
 "But all ice is not smooth," said Dick. "What 
 makes the little rough places on the brook and 
 pond ? " 
 
 "When the wind blows, the waves break the 
 ice-needles, and rub the pieces against each other, 
 so that they freeze in bunches. The ice of rough 
 running streams is almost always covered with 
 nubbles that look like frozen ripples, or tiny ice- 
 waves. 
 
 " There are many beautiful sights here in win- 
 ter, but none more charming than our pond with 
 its snow-bound shores. It looks like a strip of 
 bright blue sky set in a frame of fleecy clouds, and 
 hung on the hilly walls of our valley home by a> 
 fine brooklet thread." 
 
FORMS OF WATER. 59 
 
 " I am here every winter," shouted Bunny, joy- 
 fully, -and I see all the pretty snow views. I live 
 in a deep hole on the side of the hill just under 
 the old pine-tree. I dug it there so that the trees 
 and bushes would stop the snowslides, and keep 
 them from burying my burrow under the soil and 
 rocks which they sweep towards the valley. 
 
 " The children often go out there to coast or 
 slide. They start on the ridge where the raindrops 
 fell last April. Such sport ! The air fairly rings 
 with merry shouts, as they spin over the crisp 
 snow, singing their pretty song : 
 
 " ( Flakes of snow, with sails so white, 
 Drifting clown the wintry skies, 
 Tell us where your route begins, 
 Say which way your harbor lies ? 
 
 " 'In the clouds, the roomy clouds, 
 
 Arching earth with shadowy dome, 
 There's the port from which I sail, 
 There is tiny snowflake's home. 
 
 " 'And the cargo that you take 
 
 From those cloudy ports above — 
 Is it always meant to bless, 
 Sent in anger or in love ? 
 
 " ' Warmth for all the tender roots, 
 Warmth for every living thing, 
 Water for the rivers 7 flow. 
 
 This the cargo that we bring ! ' " 
 
 — E. A. Rand. 
 
60 BBOOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 
 
 " Thank you, Bunny/' bubbled the brook, " that 
 is a very pretty song. Here is another that I 
 heard long ago, when the beautiful snowflakes 
 were sifting down : 
 
 " ' Out of the bosom of the Air, 
 
 Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken, 
 
 Over the woodlands brown and bare, 
 
 Over the harvest fields forsaken, 
 
 Silent, and soft, and slow 
 
 Descends the snow.' 
 
 — Longfellow. 
 
 "Now, bright friends, you must hasten home, 
 or it will be dark before you find your suppers. 
 Already the twilight is strewing the sun's pathway 
 with roses, and soon the bright flowers will fade in 
 the west. 
 
 " Good night ! " 
 
 " Good night ! " 
 
THE ATMOSPHERE IN MOTION. 61 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE ATMOSPHERE IX MOTION. 
 
 " Ugh ! how cold the air feels this morning ! " 
 
 Dick's pearly teeth chattered as he spoke, and 
 the gray hair bristled all along his back. 
 
 Poor little Chip looked like a ball of trembling 
 fur, as he squeaked, " I wish we might have only 
 warm south winds in our valley." 
 
 " Oho, my pretty grumbler ! ' said Bunny. 
 " Was it not the north wind that chilled the 
 vapor-wings last April, and sent our early showers 
 from the clouds as they came flying northward ? 
 But listen ! what is the brooklet singing this 
 morning?" 
 
 " < Whichever way the wind doth blow, 
 Some heart is glad to have it so ; 
 And blow it east or blow it west, 
 The wind that blows, that wind is best. 
 
 "'My little bark sails not alone, 
 A thousand fleets from every zone 
 Are out upon a thousand seas ; 
 And what to me were favoring breeze, 
 Might dash some other with the shock 
 Of doom upon some hidden rock. 
 
62 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 
 
 " ' So whichever way the wind doth blow, 
 Some heart is glad to have it so ; 
 And blow it east or blow it west, 
 The wind that blows, that wind is best.' " 
 
 — Caroline A. Mason. 
 
 So soft and sweet the song, it seemed as if the 
 brook o'erflowed with liquid music ; and that each 
 dimpled wave, rippling upon the shore, poured its 
 rich melody over the listening pebbles, till they 
 burst forth in purling echoes. 
 
 The gentle spell was broken by the robin's 
 cheery voice, calling, " Come, let us go down and 
 ask the waves to tell us why the cold winds blow, 
 for I fear that winter is not far off." 
 
 "It will be a long story," bubbled the brook; 
 " but you can all help me tell it. 
 
 " Near by where Bunny sits, there is a very queer 
 plant. Its leaves look as if they were sewed to- 
 gether to form deep, narrow pitchers." 
 
 " 0, you mean the pitcher-plant among the cran- 
 berry vines ! Here it is full of water ! " shouted 
 nimble Chip, who was first to peep in. 
 
 " Bunny, I wish you would nip off one of the 
 coarse grass-stems, so that the top of the stubble 
 will be just on a level with the mouth of the 
 pitcher," said the brooklet. 
 
 " That is well done. 
 
 " Now, Chip, you may find a piece of dry twig as 
 long and wide as the pitcher, — > one that will just 
 
THE ATMOSPHERE IN MOTION. 63 
 
 iill it. Dick may bring a stone of the same size ; 
 Bunny may get me several small pebbles ; Red- 
 breast may gather some gray moss from the north 
 side of the old pine-tree, and we shall be ready." 
 
 Away they hurried, and soon came back with 
 their light loads, wondering what stones, sticks 
 and moss had to do with cold north winds. 
 
 " Can you tell me. Chip," babbled the brook, 
 -•which is heavier, the piece of wood you have 
 brought, or the water in the pitcher ?' : 
 
 That was a poser for the bright chipmonk, and 
 set him thinking. 
 
 " And which is lighter, Dick, your stone or the 
 water ?" 
 
 Then Dick also put on his thinking-cap. 
 
 " Now it is your turn, Bunny. You brought the 
 pebbles and — " 
 
 "I have it ! " broke in Dick. "I can find out 
 which is heavier," and he dropped his stone into 
 the green pitcher, spilling the water over its sides. 
 
 Ci The stone is heavier than water, for it bends 
 the hollow leaf far below the top of the grass-stub- 
 ble. Here, Chip, put in your wood and weigh 
 it" 
 
 The chipmonk placed the twig in the hollow 
 leaf and, to his surprise, it rose above the stubble. 
 
 ••Who would have thought that pine is so much 
 lighter than water?" chirped the merry fellow. 
 
 " In with the pebbles, Bunny ! ' bubbled the 
 
64 BBOOKS AND BROOK BASINS, 
 
 brook, and down went the pitcher below its water- 
 mark on the grass-stem. Then came the dry moss, 
 and the pretty folded leaf stood nearly upright. 
 
 "Now bring them all here," babbled the silver 
 stream. " Throw them into the water, and see 
 which will float." 
 
 Down went the rock and pebbles, but the wood 
 and moss sailed off like tiny boats. Then they 
 weighed dry bark, leaves, feathers, grass, old nails 
 and bits of glass, and threw them into the brook- 
 let. At length the rabbit stopped. His eyes 
 sparkled, and his pretty face was all aglow. 
 
 "What is it, Bunny ?" asked Dick. 
 
 " We need not weigh any more in the pitcher- 
 plant. Don't you see that only those things that 
 are lighter than water will float ? Wood, moss, 
 bark, leaves, grass and feathers do not sink be- 
 cause they are not so heavy as water." 
 
 " Then tell me, bright rabbit, which is lighter, 
 water or air ?" came the brooklet's soft voice. 
 
 "Air, of course," chattered Bunny. "It floats 
 on water. Besides, it doesn't bend our pitcher so 
 low as the grass-stubble." 
 
 "Vapor must be lighter than air," added Dick, 
 " for the clouds float far above our heads. And I 
 know that very warm breath rises in winter time, 
 for I have often seen it float away like water-dust." 
 
 " One day," piped the robin, "the dry grass in 
 our meadow was afire. When I tried to fly over 
 
THE ATMOSPHERE IN MOTION. 65 
 
 it, the hot air came rushing up, and almost stifled 
 me. It lifted large burning leaves and thick 
 smoke higher than the tree-tops. 
 
 " I could fly round and round the meadow, near 
 the ground, and could feel cold air rushing towards 
 the fire. But every time I flew above the flames, 
 my feathers were singed." 
 
 " You have used your bright eyes well, pretty 
 Redbreast," rippled the stream, " and what you 
 have said is true. Warm air will float on cool air, 
 just as a stick will float on waiter, and for the same 
 reason. 
 
 " There are often many gases besides air and 
 vapor sailing above and around us. Altogether, 
 they are called the ' atmosphere.' When heated in 
 one spot, the cooler atmosphere round about will 
 flow under and float the warmer. We feel it in 
 motion, and then call it ' wind.' 
 
 " Thus you see that vapor and other gases are 
 moved, not by the air, but with it, — the same 
 force moving all by drawing the heavier under the 
 lighter. 
 
 " It is the same force that sinks the rock, and 
 draws the water under the stick. It causes the 
 heavy cold vapor and air to float the light warm 
 gases of the same kind. It makes the raindrops 
 fall, and the brooklet flow down hill. It is the 
 wonderful force called ' gravity,' without which 
 everything on the earth's surface would fly off 
 into space." 
 
66 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 
 
 " But what heats the atmosphere, and so makes 
 it possible for gravity to move it about ? " queried 
 Dick. 
 
 " Can't you tell me what it is ? ' asked the 
 brooklet. . 
 
 " It may be the sun/' was the squirrel's answer. 
 " But why are some parts of our valley warmer 
 than others ? The sun shines on all alike, yet the 
 sand-pit is much warmer than the meadow. 
 
 " Then there is our great flat rock which is so 
 hot when the sun shines, while the old log beside 
 it is only warm. At night the sand and rock are 
 much cooler than the grass-land and wood. 
 
 " The top of the hill, too, is often cooler than its 
 foot ; yet the sun shines on both. And the sand- 
 pit is warmer than the top of the nut-tree, 
 although the boughs are nearer the sun." 
 
 " I think that the heat must come from the 
 earth," sang the robin, " f or the higher I fly, the 
 colder I find the air." 
 
 " How can that be?' asked Bunny. "My 
 burrow is cool all dav long." 
 
 " But if the sun heats the atmosphere, why is it 
 not warmer among the clouds than down here ? 
 It is nearer the sun up there," chirped Redbreast. 
 
 " I cannot answer that," replied honest Bunny. 
 " But if the heat comes from the earth, why is the 
 air cooler when a cloud hides the sun ?" 
 
 " 0, I know ! ' whispered the wild-flower. 
 
i 
 THE ATMOSPHEBE IN MOTION. 67 
 
 " When the sun shines very brightly, our blos- 
 soms often send out a cloud of perfume to keep 
 the hot rays from wilting them. Perhaps the 
 great clouds above our heads also stop a part of 
 the sun's heat." 
 
 " Wait a minute ! " cried Chip ; and up he ran 
 into a tree that hung over the sand-pit. 
 
 Soon he called from his lofty perch, " It is 
 much cooler here than down near the sand. Now 
 I can tell you how the atmosphere is heated. 
 First, the sun heats the surface of the earth, and 
 then the surface warms the atmosphere." 
 
 " I believe that Chip is right," said Dick. " Now 
 it is all clear to me. The sun shines on the rock, 
 the sand, the trees, the meadow and the pond, 
 and they give back the heat to the air. That is 
 why it is warmer near the earth's surface than it 
 is up among the clouds ; and that is also why the 
 valley is cold at night." 
 
 " I knew that you could tell me, if you tried," 
 rippled the brook, gleefully. " But there is some- 
 thing else that I wish you to learn. Bunny may 
 dig a small thin sod out of the meadow, in the 
 shadow of the thick willow, where the grass is 
 short and dry. While he is gone, Dick may fill 
 this pretty shell with cool water from the spring." 
 
 The nimble creatures soon came back with their 
 loads, and laid them in the warm sunshine, on the 
 sandy beach. Then they brought a cold flat stone, 
 
68 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 
 
 and some cool sand which they dug out of the 
 bank, and placed them beside the sod and water. 
 
 " Try to find out which will become warm first/' 
 was all the brooklet said. 
 
 In a few minutes Chip called out, " The rock is 
 warm already, and the sand is still warmer. The 
 sod and water are cold yet." 
 
 " Wait a little longer," bubbled the brook. 
 
 Soon the watchful chipmonk sang out, " The 
 grassy side of the sod is quite warm now, and the 
 water is not so cold as it was. The sand is hot, 
 and the rock is very warm." 
 
 "That will do for the sunlight," rippled the 
 little stream. " Now you may bring the stone, 
 sod, water and sand to my thick button-bush, and 
 place them in its cool shadow. Vse will learn 
 which will give off its heat soonest," 
 
 They had not waited long, when the same 
 merry chirping voice was heard, telling them that 
 the sand was cooling; very fast, and the rock a 
 little more slowly. But it was quite a while 
 before Chip felt any change in the other two. At 
 length he found that the sod was a little cooler 
 than the water. Then the brooklet was ready to 
 tell them more about how the earth heats the 
 atmosphere. 
 
 " Nearly the whole surface of our valley is 
 covered with grass, sand, rocks, trees and water, 
 upon which the sun shines every pleasant day. 
 
THE ATMOSPHEBE IN MOTIOy. 69 
 
 You have just found that all parts of this surface 
 are not warmed equally fast. The sand and rocks 
 heat quickly, while the trees and grass-lands warm 
 slowlv. and the water still more so. 
 
 ••You know, also, that sand and rocks give off 
 their heat sooner than trees, grass or water. 
 That is why the air above our sandy field is 
 warmer than it is over the pond, when the sun is 
 shining. 
 
 " But cool air will flow under and float warm 
 air. and so we find a breeze often flowing from our 
 pond towards the sandy field in the daytime. 
 We call this a : sea-breeze.' 
 
 "At night, long after the sand has given its 
 heat to the atmosphere, the water still warms the 
 air above it. Then a gentle wind flows from over 
 the fields towards the warm pond, and makes a 
 'land-breeze.' 
 
 " Now you know why the atmosphere is always 
 in motion. The winds are flowing away from cool 
 surfaces towards warmer ones." 
 
 "But some winds flow across our valley, over 
 the pasture, water and everything else. Even 
 the hot sand does not turn them aside," said Dick. 
 
 **Our sand-pit is very small," replied the brook, 
 " and it heats but little air. In some places there 
 are miles and miles of hot dry surface. The cool 
 atmosphere often flows towards them with great 
 speed and in large quantity. 
 
70 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 
 
 " Or, if a great deal of vapor rises, it makes the 
 atmosphere lighter, and then the dry winds sweep 
 in with such force that small heated spots, like our 
 pasture and sand-pit, do not stop or bend them 
 from their course. It is only when the atmos- 
 phere is almost calm that our pond and field can 
 set the gentle breezes flowing in our valley. 
 
 " And who has not listened to the many-sound- 
 ing winds, sighing in the tall meadow-grasses, 
 whistling up the hillside, or moaning on the edge 
 of the forest that towers and sways like a dark 
 cliff against a background of scudding clouds, and 
 along whose base the waving grains seem to break 
 like surging billows ? 
 
 " i The wind has a language, I would I could learn ! 
 Sometimes 'tis soothing, and sometimes 'tis stern, 
 
 Sometimes it comes like a low sweet song, 
 And all things grow calm, as the sound floats along ; 
 
 And the forest is lulled by the dreamy strain, 
 And slumber sinks down on the wandering main ; 
 
 And its crystal arms are folded in rest, 
 And the tall ship sleeps on its heaving breast.' " 
 
 -— Landon- 
 
AN EVENING UNDER THE STABS. 71 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 AN EVENING UNDER THE STARS. 
 
 u l Dear Mother, how pretty 
 
 The moon looks to-night ! 
 She was never so cunning before ; 
 
 Her two little horns 
 
 Are so sharp and so bright, 
 I hope she'll not grow any more. 
 
 " ' If I were up there 
 
 With you and my friends, 
 Fd rock in it nicely, you'd see ; 
 
 Fd sit in the middle 
 
 And hold by both ends, 
 Oh, what a bright cradle 'twould be ! 
 
 " ' I would call to the stars 
 
 To keep out of the way, 
 Lest we should rock over their toes ; 
 
 And then I would rock 
 
 Till the dawn of the day, 
 And see where the pretty moon goes. 
 
 " ' And there would I stay 
 
 In the beautiful skies, 
 And through the bright clouds we would roam ; 
 
 We would see the sun set, 
 
 And see the sun rise, 
 And on the next rainbow come home.'" 
 
 — Mrs. Follen. 
 
72 BROOKS AND BBOOK BA8IN8. 
 
 " How happy you are this evening, little brook/' 
 called out Bunny, as he sported about in the bright 
 moonlight, cropping sweet clover. " What a pretty 
 song you were just singing ! ' 
 
 " And why should I not be happy ? — 
 
 "'I am the blue sky's looking-glass, 
 I hold the rainbow bars ; 
 The moon comes down to visit me, 
 And brings the little stars.' " 
 
 — Mrs. M. F. Butts. 
 
 " Cheerily sung!" cried Dick and Chip. "We 
 heard your merry voice, and crept out of our nests 
 to listen. May we come down and sit by the wild- 
 flower while you are singing? ' 
 
 " Br-r-r, br-r-r, better be in bed, br-r-r, br-r-r ! ' 
 rattled a deep voice among the tall reeds. 
 
 " Ha, ha ! " bubbled the brook. " That is only 
 one of my old green frogs in the marshes. Per- 
 haps I woke him with my singing, and he is 
 angry with me. But, come along, my frisky 
 friends ! If it were only summer now, I would 
 send my tiny fire-flies to light your way out of the 
 woods. Do you remember, Bunny, how my bright 
 messengers used to lead Chip and Dick through 
 the forest ?" 
 
 " Yes, I often think of one night when I saw 
 them. The two little squirrels came tripping over 
 the dry leaves ; four shining bead-eyes went peep- 
 ing into every dark corner, while scores of fairy 
 
AS EVENING UXDER THE STABS. 73 
 
 fire-flies waved and swung their faint flash-lights 
 on every side to frighten the shadows back into 
 the dense woods ; and all the while the brook kept 
 singing : 
 
 " • When softly mother earth is dreaming — sleeping, 
 I question whence the fire-flies come ; 
 The Moon says, " Tears they are from stars that, weeping, 
 Have lost the path that leads them home.'" 
 
 — Eugene Ashtox. 
 
 " But here are our friends waiting for your story, 
 kind brooklet." 
 
 •• If Redbreast were only here, we should have 
 our whole party/' chirped the thoughtful chip- 
 monk. " AY ait a moment, and I will call her." 
 
 Away scampered the lively creature, and soon 
 we heard him calling, " Chip, chip, che-chip ! ' 
 under the apple-tree. 
 
 " Chirp, chirp ! ' came the shrill answer from 
 among the branches, and clown flew the robin. 
 
 ••Why. Chip! you are out very late," piped the 
 ever-cheerful little bird. 
 
 •• The brooklet is to tell us a storv about the 
 stars, and I thought you would like to hear it. So 
 I ran over to call you." 
 
 " You are very kind, and I hope I may be able 
 to repay you in some way." 
 
 •• You have already clone so, Redbreast," said 
 Chip. "Have you not sung for me from morning 
 till evening, all summer ? And once, when the 
 
74 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 
 
 gray cat came creeping up behind the stone-wall 7 
 did you not chirp so loud that I looked over and 
 saw him just in time to dodge his sharp claws ? 
 
 " But here we are by the brookside. I never 
 heard the little stream ripple so sweetly before. 
 Let us sit near by where the pretty waves frisk 
 and frolic among the smooth pebbles, and listen to 
 its story, for it is just beginning." 
 
 " When you went home to-day, the long shadows 
 were beginning to creep into our valley. Soon the 
 Prince of Light sank behind the low hills. He 
 must have been weary with his long journey, for 
 we saw him lie down on a bank of bright flowers 
 and fall asleep, while o'er his couch the evening 
 star kept watch. 
 
 " i O'er me, like a regal tent, 
 
 Cloudy-ribbed, the sunset bent ; 
 Purple-curtained, fringed with gold, 
 Looped in many a wind-swung fold/ 
 
 Whittier. 
 
 " The silvery waves that had played all day 
 were fast asleep. Even the little clouds had folded 
 themselves in their gray-tinted bankets, and seemed 
 to float in dreamland. 
 
 " One by one, the pretty stars brought out their 
 flickering torches, and began their silent march 
 across the sky. 
 
 "Now the night is filled with glory, and we must 
 not spend it in dreaming. Let us be up, looking 
 
AN EVENING UNDER THE STABS. 75 
 
 at its bright moving pictures, and reading its 
 wonderful stories." 
 
 " What ! is the sky a story-book ? ' : asked Chip, 
 his eager eyes glowing like fire-flies. 
 
 " Yes. and a picture-book as well," sang a moon- 
 lit wave. %; Come a little nearer, and I will show 
 you the beautiful forms, and tell you one or two 
 of its charming stories. 
 
 " Every little squirrel can find the Great Dipper 
 which is a part of the Great Bear." 
 
 " There it is, low in the northwest," said Dick; 
 " and I know another star, also. The two bright 
 twinkling dots in this Dipper, farthest from its 
 handle, are called ' pointers,' because a line drawn 
 through them points nearly towards the pole or 
 north star. It is in the end of the Little Dipper 
 handle, or the tip of the Little Bear's tail." 
 
 " How came two bears to be among the stars ? ' 
 asked timid Bunny, dropping his head as if to run 
 and hide in his burrow. 
 
 " It is an old, old story," began the brooklet. 
 " It was told to little girls and boys who lived 
 many years ago, in a land far away towards the 
 rising sun. 
 
 "There, on a high mountain — so the story 
 runs — dwelt a powerful king named Jupiter, and 
 his beautiful queen, Juno. In the dense forest, far 
 below, lived a lovely princess who spent her time 
 in hunting. 
 
76 BBOOKS AXD BROOK BASINS. 
 
 "Juno was jealous of her great beauty, and 
 changed her into a bear. Down she fell upon the 
 ground. Her soft white hands and feet became 
 great paws, while her fingers grew into sharp claws. 
 When she tried to speak, only a savage growl 
 rolled through her fierce jaws. 
 
 " All night long she slept in the dark woods, yet 
 she did not feel cold, for a heavy coat of long hair 
 had grown all over her body. 
 
 " One day she met her only son hunting. 0, 
 how happy she felt, as she turned to embrace him. 
 4 He will surely know his mother/ thought she. 
 
 " But alas ! he saw only a savage bear, and as it 
 rushed towards him, he raised his hunting-spear to 
 kill it. Then Jupiter, filled with pity, changed 
 the son into a little bear ; and, taking them both 
 into the sky, chained them near the den of the 
 north star. 
 
 " How angry Juno was to see them shining 
 there. She begged old Ocean not to let them 
 bathe in its cool water. So there they prowl, the 
 Great and Little Bear, round and round the pole 
 star, yet never clip below the horizon that we see 
 from our valley." 
 
 " What a pretty story ! " cried Chip, sporting 
 about in glee. Please tell us just one more. We 
 never knew before you came, little raindrops, how 
 many beautiful things there were around us." 
 
 "Let me see. What shall it be?" mused the 
 
AN EVENING UNDER THE STARS. 11 
 
 dimpled stream. " 0, yes ! there is a very pretty 
 one in the northeastern sky. 1 
 
 " Start with me from the handle of the Great 
 Dipper, and travel straight through the north star 
 till we reach five bright stars that make a W in 
 the edge of the Milky Way. These are in the 
 group called ' Cassiopeia.' 2 It is about as far from 
 the pole star on one side as the Great Dipper is on 
 the other. 
 
 " Farther clown in the sky, in the same straight 
 line, beneath the W, there is a row r of shining stars, 
 just to the left of a large starry square. The 
 bright row is Andromeda, 3 a beautiful princess. 
 The square is a part of the great winged horse, 
 Pegasus. 4 
 
 " Now set out once more from the W, and move 
 down the Milky Way towards the northeast. 
 About half-way to the horizon, you will see three 
 or more bright stars, pointing downwards, with a 
 
 1 These star-clusters may be seen in the positions described, as 
 follows : 
 
 Sept. 
 
 1. — 9.20 p. 
 
 m. 
 
 Oct. 
 
 1. — 7.20 p.m. 
 
 6. — 9.00 
 
 
 
 6. — 7.00 
 
 11. — 8.40 
 
 
 
 11. — 6.40 
 
 16. _ 8.20 
 
 
 
 16. — 6.20 
 
 21. — 8.00 
 
 
 
 21. — 6.00 
 
 26. — 7.40 
 
 
 
 
 They are also visible in other parts of the sky. but in the same 
 relative positions, nearly every night in the year. The observer will, 
 of course, find it necessary to rise before the sun to see them during 
 the spring time, but the sight will well repay him. 
 
 2 Pronounced : Cas-si-o-pe'i-a. 3 An-droin'e-da. 4 Peg'a-sus. 
 
78 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 
 
 large twinkling dot to the right. This group is 
 Perseus, 1 a noble prince. 
 
 " As far above the W as Perseus is below it, and 
 reaching in towards the pole star, there is a faint 
 cluster that shows where old King Cepheus 2 sits 
 upon his throne." 
 
 "What a bright star nearly overhead !' ' piped 
 the robin. " It is the brightest that twinkles in 
 the whole sky." 
 
 "'And what a pretty cross just above us in the 
 Milky Way ! " chirped the frisky chipmonk. 
 
 " Do you remember the dark night when the 
 raindrops set out on their journey?" rippled the 
 hrook. " ' Out of the east came beautiful Vega, 
 brightest of all the host. Near it floated the grace- 
 ful Swan among the starry drops that glisten in 
 the Milky Way.' " 
 
 " Now I know ! " sang Redbreast. " The bril- 
 liant star above us is Vega, and the cross is a part 
 of the Swan. I looked for them the evening after 
 you told us the first story, but I found them just 
 rising in the northeast." 
 
 " And if you will look in the same place next 
 spring, you will see them there again as soon as 
 the sun goes down," bubbled the silver stream. 
 "But Vega and the Swan are not in the story I 
 am to tell, and so we will go back to Perseus and 
 the Princess. 
 
 1 Pronounced : Per'seus (su^e). 2 Qe'pheus (fuce). 
 
EXPLANATION OF CHART. 
 (X., 8., E., W- = North, South, East. West.) 
 
 To find the stars above any point of the horizon, face that part of the 
 sky. turn the above circle till the corresponding point of the compass on the 
 chart is at the bottom of the page. Then look for the groups in the lower 
 half of the circle. 
 
 For example, to find the star-groups above the northern horizon, the 
 observer should face the north and hold the above chart vertically, with 
 the X. at the bottom of the page. The lower half of the circle will then show 
 the relative positions of the northern constellations. 
 
 
 
 KEY TO CHART. 
 
 
 Groups. 
 
 
 Bright Stars. 
 
 a = Andromeda. 
 
 h 
 
 = Flying Horse. 
 
 I) = Thuban. 
 
 b = Little Bear. 
 
 K 
 
 = King Cepheus. 
 
 m = Perseus' Shield 
 
 B = Great Bear. 
 
 P 
 
 = Perseus. 
 
 a = North Star. 
 
 c = Northern Crown. 
 
 Q 
 
 = Cassiopeia. 
 
 << = The Kid. 
 
 d = Great Dipper. 
 
 ft 
 
 = >wan. 
 
 V = Vega. 
 
 e — Eagle. 
 
 
 
 
AN EVENING UNDER THE STABS. 79 
 
 " Manv years ago, near the sacred river that 
 winds like an endless serpent across an almost 
 boundless desert, ruled a wise king, named Cepheus. 
 
 " One time, his vain young queen, Cassiopeia, 
 boasted that she was as beautiful as the graceful 
 Nymphs that sported in the waves. Then the 
 angry Water-Sprites sent a fierce storm to destroy 
 her land ; and with it came a horrible sea-monster 
 that killed many poor people. 
 
 •••There is but one way to save your homes/ 
 the Nymphs said to the king. i Chain your beau- 
 tiful daughter, Andromeda, to a lonely rock on the 
 shore, and when our frightful monster has de- 
 voured her, he will leave your coasts in peace.' 
 
 •• Then was the good king very sad, for he loved 
 his daughter dearly. But his dying people begged 
 him to save them, and at length he yielded. The 
 lovely princess was chained to a great cliff over- 
 hanging the sea, while her father and mother sat 
 weeping on the shore. 
 
 •• Just then a dark speck was seen far off in the 
 sky. Nearer and nearer it came, till, with the 
 speed of an eagle, clown flew the noble prince, Per- 
 seus, son of Jupiter. Some claim that he rode on 
 living Pegasus, while others say he came on 
 winged sandals. On his left arm he carried a 
 magic shield that would turn to stone anv creature 
 that looked upon it. 
 
 " Scarcely had the story of grief been told, when 
 
80 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 
 
 across the sea came the hungry monster, bellowing 
 and splashing. Straight for the rock he swam, 
 where lay the helpless princess. With glaring 
 eyes and open mouth, he dashed forward, to seize 
 his prey. 
 
 " But what was that ? Like the flash of a 
 meteor, brave Perseus darted through the air, and 
 plunged his sword into the great scaly back. 
 Then, as the angry beast turned to meet his foe, 
 the brave prince held out his shield, while turning 
 away his own eyes, and where the giant creature 
 swam, there rose a great ledge from the sea. The 
 trusty shield had changed him into stone. 
 
 " Of course the noble prince wedded the fair 
 Andromeda, and his proud father carried them all 
 off to live forever in the starry sky. 
 
 " But the w r rathf ul Nymphs had Cassiopeia 
 placed so near the pole star, that one half the 
 night she hangs with her head down to teach her 
 to be humble." 
 
 As the brooklet ended its story, little Chip 
 looked up with surprise into the sky, and cried, 
 " The Great Bear seems to be moving ! When 
 Dick first pointed it out, it was in the northwest. 
 Now it is in the north, under the pole star. Why! 
 I believe every spot in the sky is moving ; for 
 Cassiopeia is just overhead, and the Swan is flying 
 low in the west. I hope the pretty stars will not 
 leave us forever." 
 
AN EVENING UNDER THE STARS. 81 
 
 " Never fear ! " laughed the brook. " You need 
 to sleep now. But when the bright golden butter- 
 cups have faded along the dusty roadside of the 
 Milky Way, come back, and I will tell you why 
 the sun, moon and stars seem to move across the 
 sky." 
 
82 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 DAYS, NIGHTS AND SEASONS. 
 
 Daybreak. 
 
 U( A wind came up out of the sea, 
 
 And said, "0 mists, make room for me, 
 
 "'It hailed the ships, and cried, "Sail on, 
 Ye mariners ; the night is gone ! " 
 
 " ' And hurried landward far away, 
 Crying, " Awake ! it is the day." 
 
 " ' It said unto the forest, " Shout ! 
 Hang all your leafy banners out ! " 
 
 " ' It touched the wood-bird's folded wing, 
 And said, " bird, awake and sing." 
 
 " i And o'er the farms, " chanticleer, 
 Your clarion blow ; the day is near." 
 
 )7 
 
 <( i 
 
 It whispered to the fields of corn, 
 
 " Bow down, and hail the coming morn." 
 
 i It shouted through the belfry tower, 
 Awake, bell ! proclaim the hour." 
 
 u 
 
 a i 
 
 It crossed the churchyard with a sigh, 
 And said, " Not yet ! in quiet lie." ? " 
 
 — Longfellow. 
 
BAYS, SIGHTS AS I) SEASOSS. 83 
 
 Thus sang the brooklet, as the pretty stars, like 
 shining gold-fish, sank deeper and deeper into the 
 pale-blue sea of the sky. 
 
 " I wish mv little friends were here to see the 
 break of day." it added, and its purling ripples 
 seemed to linger near the sleeping pebbles, as if 
 searching for Bunny and his cheerful companions. 
 
 •• Here we are ! ' rang a merry chorus, and 
 down trooped our happy band, with nimble Chip 
 running before. 
 
 •• Just in time ! * rippled the brooklet softly : 
 " for I am to show you why the days, nights and 
 seasons visit our valley, and here is a day close 
 at hand. 
 
 "First, let me tell you that the earth is a large 
 ball, rounder than the button-balls on the bush that 
 hangs over the water: rounder than an apple. — 
 yes. rounder than the base-ball with which the 
 boys sometimes play in our valley ; and yet it is 
 not perfectly round. 
 
 " This great ball rolls over and over in space 
 just like the soap-bubbles which the little girl 
 blew here yesterday." 
 
 " Does the earth float about in the air just as 
 the soap-bubbles did?" asked Dick. ■ 
 
 " no ! ' babbled the brook. " The air does 
 not hold the earth in its place ; but land, water 
 and air form this great ball that turns in space. 
 while the sun shines in nearly the same place in 
 the sky both day and night." 
 
84 BROOKS AND BBOOK BASINS. 
 
 That was too much for little Chip, for had he 
 not seen the sun move across the sky every pleas- 
 ant day for many months ? At last the bright 
 creature broke forth. " Then why do we not see 
 the sun at night as well as in the daytime ?" 
 
 " I will show you, my cheery friend, if you will 
 help me. We will use this large wind-mill which 
 the boys made here last summer. See it turning 
 very slowly in the morning breeze. The top is 
 rolling towards the sun, and the bottom away 
 from the burning ball which shines high above 
 the horizon. 
 
 •* Now, Chip, I want you to climb to the very 
 top of the wind-mill, face the sun in the east, and 
 swing slowly round with the great wooden wheel. 
 You can then tell us how the sun seems to move." 
 
 u There it is ! ' chirped the cunning creature, as 
 he climbed nimbly to the topmost point of the 
 wind-mill. " The bright sun is just in front of 
 me. see it g;o ! now it is over my head and 
 shines on my back. Now it is behind me. There 
 it goes out of sight behind the wind-mill. I never 
 saw it travel so fast before. It will be night 
 before I can reach home " ; and the little fellow 
 was about to scamper down and away, when he 
 heard a merry laugh below him. 
 
 "Why, Chip ! the sun is in just the same place," 
 chirped Redbreast. " Wait a minute, and you will 
 see it again." 
 
DAYS, NIGHTS AND SEASONS. 85 
 
 " There it comes ! ' shouted the chipmonk. 
 "It is rising in front of me once more." 
 
 So over and over the great wheel swung, with 
 Chip clinging to its long arm, while the sun 
 seemed to him to rise and set at every turning. 
 First his back and then his legs were towards the 
 flaming ball, as he was rolled into the sunlight, 
 then back into the shade. 
 
 "If the wheel were very, very large," chirped 
 the robin, " it would be day on the light side, and 
 night in the shadow." 
 
 " Yes ; and morning as he swings into the sun- 
 light, and evening as he sinks into the shadow," 
 added Dick. 
 
 The little stream seemed to bubble with joy as 
 it listened to the chatter. Then it told its little 
 friends how the great ball on which we live turns 
 or rotates like the wind-mill ; how it rolls us into 
 darkness every evening, and back to the light 
 every morning, thus causing days and nights in 
 the valley. 
 
 "But you must not think that the whole sky 
 above us is dark at night," prattled the stream. 
 " Try to find some shadows on my beach, and I 
 will then tell you about the one cast by the great 
 earth." 
 
 "Here is one now, behind this rock," piped 
 Redbreast. "It looks like the long cones hanging 
 on the pine-trees." 
 
86 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 
 
 " Yes ; and as the earth is much smaller than the 
 sun, its shadow runs to a point far above our heads 
 at midnight/' added the brooklet. " Night is a 
 long, cone-shaped shadow cast by the earth far 
 into space. 
 
 " Once in a while, the moon sails into this 
 shadow, and its round face is no longer lighted 
 by the sun. Then it sails out again, and the 
 eclipse is over. 
 
 " So round and round goes our valley on the 
 great earth, swinging us into the light of day, and 
 then into the shadow of night." 
 
 " But why do we not fall from the earth at 
 night when our heads hang down ? ' queried 
 Bunny. " I should think that all the water would 
 spill out of our pond, too." 
 
 The pretty stream was puzzled for a moment. 
 How could it explain to the rabbit that its head 
 did not hang down ? But soon its silvery voice 
 rang out, " There is a small dark stone at the foot 
 of the ledge, near the sweet acorn tree. I saw it 
 one day as I trickled down the steep slope. If 
 you will bring it to me, Bunny, I w T ill show you 
 why w T e do not fall from the earth at night." 
 
 " Here it is ! ' called out the rabbit from the 
 ledge. " There is a small nail clinging to it." 
 
 " What a queer rock ! ' cried Dick. " It holds 
 the nail so firmly that I cannot shake it off." 
 
 "It is a piece of iron ore that acts like a mag- 
 
DATS, NIGHTS AND SEASONS. 87 
 
 net/' began the brook. "It is called a ''load- 
 stone/ and draws to itself small pieces of steel 
 and iron. Now if you will stand the little nail on 
 its flat end, and turn the stone round and round, 
 you will see that the nail will always point to the 
 centre of the magnet. Over or under, right or 
 left, the nail still stands upright, away from the 
 loadstone. 
 
 " The earth acts like a great magnet also, and 
 draws towards itself not only iron and steel, but 
 also every other substance. Whether our heads 
 or our feet are nearer the sun, we are drawn 
 towards a point near the centre of the earth. 
 ' Up ' is not towards the sun, or any one place in 
 the sky. Up means away from the centre of the 
 earth, and down means towards the centre. 
 
 " At night, the trees still stand upright because 
 they point away from the earth, even though the 
 trees half-way round the great ball grow in the 
 opposite direction. 
 
 " And when we walk at midnight, our heads 
 do not hang down, for down is towards the earth." 
 
 " But why does not the sun rise in the same 
 place day after clay?" piped robin. "Sometimes 
 we see it come over the hill, then over the narrow 
 gully, and even over the treetops when the snow 
 is on the ground." 
 
 " And it does not always set in the same place/' 
 squeaked Chip. 
 
88 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 
 
 " Nor rise so high in the sky in winter/' added 
 Bunny. " In summer the noon shadows are very 
 short, and the bright ball is nearly overhead/' 
 
 " I will tell you why it rises farther north, and 
 travels in a higher arch in summer time/' began 
 the brook. 
 
 " Last night we saw a bright star just in line 
 with the top of our tallest pine. Can you^ recall 
 its name ? " 
 
 " Pole star ! " cried Chip. 
 
 " North star ! " sang Redbreast. 
 
 " Both are right. It has several names, and is 
 the most useful to us of all the stars. It is nearly 
 due north, and as it does not rise and set, it can 
 be seen every clear evening. If it were night 
 now, we could see it shining there just above the 
 treetop. 
 
 " A point on earth nearly under that star is called 
 the ' north pole.' If we could run a line from the 
 north star, through the centre of the earth to the 
 opposite side, it would come out near a point 
 called the ' south pole.' 
 
 "Let us call the place on this plump round 
 apple, w^here the stem grows, the north pole, and 
 the blossom end, the south pole. Just midway 
 between the poles, Dick may scratch a line round 
 the apple. The north pole is in the centre of the 
 northern half, and the south pole in the centre of 
 the southern. 
 
DAYS, NIGHTS AND SEASONS. 89 
 
 " That dark spot on the apple, more than one- 
 third of the distance from the equator towards the 
 north pole, shows you where our valley is on the 
 earth. 
 
 " Now Robin may peck into the blossom end, 
 — the south pole, — and hold the apple on his 
 bill so that the stem end — the north pole — will 
 point over the top of the pine towards the north 
 star. 
 
 " Chip may sit on that rock about a foot behind 
 Robin, just on a level with the apple, and watch 
 closely. What part of the apple can you see, little 
 chipmonk? " 
 
 " There is the south pole, but I cannot see the 
 north," said Chip. 
 
 " If your head were the sun, which half of the 
 apple would be lighter ? " asked the brook. 
 
 " The southern," was the quick reply; "for I 
 can see more of it." 
 
 " Now Robin may move slowly round the little 
 squirrel, towards the west, still keeping the apple- 
 stem pointed over the pine, and Chip may tell us 
 when he can see the north pole," bubbled the 
 stream. 
 
 " Hold ! there it is ! " came the shrill chirp, 
 when Redbreast had hopped one-quarter way 
 round. " Now I can see both poles. If my head 
 were the sun, it would light north and south 
 alike." 
 
90 BBOOKS AND BBOOK BASINS. 
 
 " Look again, Chip, while Robin moves round 
 another quarter. Now what parts can you see?' : 
 asked the brook. 
 
 " The south pole is not in sight ; but I can see 
 far beyond the north pole, and more than half the 
 northern part of the apple." 
 
 " Hop round a little farther, Redbreast, and 
 Chip will call out when he can see both poles 
 again," rippled the brooklet. 
 
 " There they are ! ' sang the bright-eyed squir- 
 rel, as the robin reached the third quarter. 
 
 Then the willing little bird moved along to the 
 starting-point, and again the north pole sank out 
 of sight, still pointing over the tall pines. 
 
 " We will now speak of the apple as if it were 
 the earth, and we will call the line which Dick 
 scratched upon it 'the equator.' 1 said the brook. 
 " Chip may tell us whether the part of the apple 
 nearest him is north or south of the equator." 
 
 " South," was the prompt answer. 
 
 " If your head were the hot sun, would the 
 north or south part of the earth receive more 
 heat ? " bubbled the stream. 
 
 " It would be much warmer south of the equator 
 than north," said Chip. 
 
 " Yes," added the brook ; " in the southern half 
 warm summer is just beginning, while on the 
 northern side cold winter is setting in. 
 
 " Now Robin may hop round once more, till Chip 
 
BAYS. SIGHTS AND SEASONS. 91 
 
 can see both poles again. All ! keep the north 
 pole over the old pine, little Redbreast. There ! 
 on which side of the equator do the warmest rays 
 shine now ? 9i 
 
 " Both sides of the equator are heated alike," 
 said Chip. " The sun is just over the middle 
 line." 
 
 " Then which half of the earth is warmer, 
 Bunny, — the northern or southern?' came the 
 query, and a roguish ripple rolled in among the 
 smooth pebbles. 
 
 " One side must be just as warm as the other," 
 said the rabbit, "for the sun shines on both alike." 
 
 "That cannot be," cried Dick. "It has just been 
 summer south of the equator, and winter north. I 
 think it would still be warmer in the south." 
 
 "You are right, Dick. I did not think of that," 
 added Bunny. " It is like morning and evening. 
 When the sun is setting, it is leaving a surface 
 that has been warmed all day. "When it is rising, 
 it must first heat the earth before its warmth is 
 given off into the air. Thus we find the dawn 
 much cooler than the eve, although the sun's rays 
 are just as slanting. 
 
 " Spring is the dawn of the seasons, and autumn 
 the eve ; winter is the night, and summer the mid- 
 day." 
 
 " Well said, Bunny," babbled the waves ; "but let 
 us look again to Robin's earth. When it reaches 
 
92 B BOOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 
 
 this point, and the sun shines above the equator, 
 two seasons begin, and two end. In the north, 
 cold winter goes out, and — " 
 
 " Warm spring comes in ! ' sang the merry 
 voices. 
 
 " But how is it south of the equator, my little 
 friends ?" asked the brooklet. 
 
 " Autumn must follow summer there, for it does 
 here," said Redbreast, as well as he could with 
 the apple on his bill. 
 
 " That is true, pretty bird," sang the stream. 
 " And now you may move round another quarter." 
 
 " 0, I know that it must be summer in the 
 north, for I can see only a little of the part south 
 of the equator," called out Chip. Then he added, 
 " It must be winter in the southern half, because 
 the surface is turned so far away from me. The 
 lighted place in the south is so narrow that the 
 daylight cannot last so long as it does in the 
 north." 
 
 "That must be the reason why our days are so 
 much longer in summer; and the longer the day, 
 the warmer it must be," said thoughtful Dick. 
 " But there goes Robin again." 
 
 " Hold ! " cried Chip. " The sun is over the 
 equator again, and shines on both sides alike. It 
 must be spring on one side, and autumn on the 
 other." 
 
 "It is autumn in the north," said Bunny, "for 
 
DATS, NIGHTS AND SEASONS. 93 
 
 summer is just over. And it must be spring in 
 the south." 
 
 " Here we are back to our winter in the north ! ' 
 shouted Chip, as the robin hopped along to the 
 starting-point, and dropped the apple from its 
 tired bill. " It has taken four whole seasons for 
 the earth to move round the sun. How slowly it 
 must go ! " 
 
 "0 no!" rippled the brook. "It moves very 
 rapidly. Our valley is about a quarter of a mile 
 in length. Listen, while I count as fast as I can, — 
 one, two, three, four, five, six, — and the earth has 
 moved a hundred times the length of our valley 
 while I was counting. 
 
 " Take this apple, please, Dick, and drop it from 
 the bough that hangs over the water. Watch it ! 
 Let it go ! " 
 
 " 0, how swift ! " chirped the robin. 
 
 "The apple fell only about sixteen feet/' said 
 the brook ; " but while it was in the air, the earth 
 whizzed along more than sixteen miles — sixty- 
 four times the length of our valley — on its way 
 around the sun. And every time it revolves, or 
 goes round, we have our four seasons. 
 
 " As we look at the sun clay after clay for a 
 vear. it seems to rise higher and higher in the skv 
 at noon for a while, and then to move in a lower 
 and lower path. When it reaches its highest 
 arch, our northern summer begins, while its 
 
94 BROOKS AND BROOK BASIN 8. 
 
 lowest path marks the beginning of our win- 
 ter. 
 
 " Its middle arch, as it seems to travel higher 
 and higher, opens the spring, while the same line, 
 on its southward journey, brings in the autumn. 
 
 " Now, my little companions, you know why the 
 days, nights and seasons visit our home, and to- 
 morrow I will tell you how they help to cover our 
 valley with life." 
 
PLAST LIFE IN THE VALLEY. 95 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 PLANT LIFE IN THE VALLEY. 
 
 Was there ever such a morning before ? 
 
 Far and wide, the frost had pitched its snowy 
 tents of woven dew. Calm, cool and clear the 
 air, as if the breath of night had fallen asleep in 
 the cradle of the vallev. 
 
 The limpid water of brook and pond slumbered 
 with the soft blue sky above ; and in their dreams 
 there seemed to float the same pale castles of fairy 
 mist. 
 
 Now and then, bright-tinted leaves fell fluttering 
 from the swamp-maples, like feathers from the 
 rosy wings of dawn. With the changing season, 
 the foliage had ended its work, and decked itself 
 in gayest colors. 
 
 " Autumn's earliest touch had given 
 
 To the woods below, 
 Hues of beauty, such as heaven 
 
 Lendeth to its bow ; 
 And the soft breeze from the west 
 Scarcely broke their dreamy rest/' 
 
 — Whittier. 
 
 Such was the morning: when our merrv band 
 gathered by the brookside to hear the story of Life 
 in the Valley, — 
 
96 BBOOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 
 
 "Of the wild-bees' morning chase, 
 Of the wild-flowers' time and place, 
 
 Flight of fowl and habitude 
 
 Of the tenants of the wood ; 
 How the tortoise bears his shell, 
 How the wbodchuck digs his cell, 
 And the ground-mole sinks his well ; 
 
 How the robin feeds her young, 
 
 How the oriole's nest is hung ; 
 
 Where the whitest lilies blow, 
 
 Where the freshest berries grow, 
 Where the ground-nut trails its vine, 
 Where the wood-grape's clusters shine." 
 
 — Whittier. 
 
 " Can you tell me where the little yellow cow- 
 slips grew last May, Bunny ? " asked the brooklet. 
 
 " 0, yes ! and how pretty they looked in the wet 
 meadow. I did not see any on the dry hillside. 
 They were all here." 
 
 " I saw them, too/' piped a cheery voice; " and 
 at first I thought they were buttercups. They 
 grew near the white violet beds." 
 
 " I know another flower here in the wet soil," 
 chirped the little squirrel. " It has dark-red her- 
 ries. 
 
 " Cranberries ! ' shouted Bunny. " Here are 
 some of them. Ugh ! how sour they are." 
 
 " There are the big brown cat-tails, also, stand- 
 ing on the marshy edge of the pond," said Dick. 
 " They always grow in w r et places." 
 
 " And so do the early pussy willows," added Red- 
 
PLAST LIFE IN THE VALLEY. 97 
 
 breast. " I look for them just as soon as J fly 
 north in the spring time." 
 
 " Then there is our jovial friend, Jack-in-the- 
 pulpit, clown where the frog-choir sings/' cried 
 Dick ; u and the water-cresses and graceful blue- 
 flags." 
 
 " You must not forget my pure water-lilies," 
 rippled the brook. " They float on the still water 
 of my pond, and send their roots deep into the 
 mud below. But let us look to another part of 
 our valley, and see what plants grow on the steep 
 hillside." 
 
 " There are not many pretty flowers on the 
 abrupt slopes/' said Dick. " The loam is easily 
 washed into the valley, and the water flows so 
 swiftly there that only a little sinks into the 
 ground. The soil is coarser and drier than in the 
 level meadow. A few bushes and tufts of coarse 
 grass cling to the steep side, but they are not very 
 pretty. 
 
 " Last May a few clusters of wild columbine 
 grew among the rocks, and nodded their pretty 
 scarlet and yellow blossoms. They looked so 
 lovely, I thought they must have strolled away 
 from home and lost their way." 
 
 " Bunny can tell us where to find the sweet 
 clover," chirped a merry voice. 
 
 •* yes, I know where all the blossoms grow. — 
 the pussy, hop, red and white. The pretty white 
 
98 BBOOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 
 
 heads wave in the pasture. A little red clover 
 grows there also, but most of it is in the rich 
 meadow. I wish it would stay all winter. When 
 the snow is deep and hard, I cannot always find 
 tender branches, and I am often huhgry for days 
 and days." 
 
 " If you could only eat nuts, Bunny, you could 
 come and live with Chip and me," said kind-hearted 
 Dick. " Last winter I saw a great dog chase you, 
 hut you ran into your burrow just in time." 
 
 " Yes, Dick, he nearly caught me. It was a 
 cold, frosty day. The ground was covered with 
 snow. I was very hungry, and went out to nip a 
 few buds and a little bark. 
 
 "Just as I began to nibble a tender twig, I was 
 almost stunned by a loud noise. I felt a sharp 
 pain, and tried to hop away. But a bullet had 
 broken my leg, and I could only hobble slowly 
 along. 
 
 " Then I heard a savage dog bark close behind me. 
 O, how frightened I was. The hard crust cut my 
 poor bleeding leg, and as I dragged it along, it left 
 a red stain on the white snow. 
 
 "At length I reached my lonely home. I was 
 still very hungry, but I did not think of that. 
 How my poor leg did ache ! 
 
 •* Long dark clays and nights, I lay there all alone 
 in the cold ground, while my leg grew stronger. 
 Then I crept out to gnaw a little bark. 
 
PLANT LIFE IN THE VALLEY. 99 
 
 " But when I saw the April showers, and heard 
 the early blue-birds sing, — when all nature seemed 
 to waken from its long winter sleep, how happy 
 
 I felt : 
 
 1 " i Xature's voice is fraught with gladness, 
 E'en its showers can hope impart, 
 And each fading cloud of sadness 
 Leave a rainbow in the heart. 
 
 " i Is it from the white cloud flying, 
 Or the blue-bird, sweetly singing 
 In the branches, gently sighing, 
 Or the distant herd-bell ringing ? 
 
 " ( Is it in the golden sunbeam, 
 
 Streaming through the pines above, 
 Or the brooklet's silver thread-stream, 
 Comes the gentle voice of love ? 
 
 " ' As when cool, refreshing showers 
 
 Bless the earth with glad surprises, 
 Like the fragrance of its flowers, 
 Hope from nature sweetly rises 
 
 — A. E. F. 
 
 "When Bunny ended his story, the little flower 
 was weeping, and Dick turned away his bright 
 eyes, to hide the big round tears that were stealing 
 down his cheeks. 
 
 *• Poor Bunnv ! " was all he said. 
 
 Even the brooklet seemed to murmur more sadly 
 as it went on with its story. 
 
 " Do you know any means by which plants or 
 their seeds are carried from place to place, Dick ? ' 
 
100 BROOKS AJSfD BROOK BASINS. 
 
 " I often find little quick-grass branches creeping 
 through the soil, and sprouting into coarse green 
 blades above. Sometimes I have seen branches go 
 floating by in the stream, bearing pretty mosses 
 with them to the sea. 
 
 " And who has not seen the tufts of thistle- 
 down and dandelion carrying their tiny cargoes of 
 seeds wherever the winds might waft them ? ' 
 
 " And some seeds, such as those that grow 
 under the scales of our pine cones, float aw^ay in 
 the brook," added Chip. 
 
 " And some are carried about by birds," piped 
 the robin. 
 
 " Little animals, like field-mice, often take corn 
 from the gardens and hide it in their nests. And 
 you and I, Chip, carry away nuts, acorns and 
 grasses," said Dick. 
 
 " In these and many other ways, plants and 
 seeds are carried about," babbled the brook, " and 
 if they reach proper soil, they spring up and live. 
 But there are bounds beyond which they cannot 
 grow. When the quick-grass reaches a pond or 
 ledge, its branches must turn aside or die. If the 
 tufts of the dandelion alight on the hot sand, their 
 germs never waken to take root. 
 
 " The seeds of marsh plants may be carried in 
 many ways to the hilltops, but there they will die. 
 By dropping its seeds from its scaly cones a pine 
 may in time start a growth of little trees all over 
 
PLANT LIFE IN THE VALLEY. 101 
 
 the upper slopes of a valley ; but the tiny germs 
 will only rot in a cranberry bog, or wither away 
 on a sanely field. 
 
 " Many kinds of seeds — yes, and of plants — are 
 eaten by animals. The leaves of an apple-tree 
 often feed swarms of caterpillars, while its fallen 
 fruit becomes the home of worms. Millions of 
 tiny seeds of the common plantain are gathered 
 yearly by sparrows and other small birds. 
 
 " In gardens, the tomato-worm and potato-bug 
 destroy countless plants; and what shall we say 
 of you, Redbreast ? and of you, Bunny, and Dick, 
 and Chip ? How many seeds do you use for food 
 each year, and so keep plants from spreading 
 more ? 
 
 " Flowers cannot live in every place where their 
 seeds are sown, but only where the soil, heat and 
 moisture will nourish them into growth. The lily 
 needs much water, the pine but little. Meadow- 
 grass will thrive only in rich soil, while thistles 
 will spring up in rocky places. Clover holds its 
 pretty head up to the sunlight, while many mosses 
 and evergreen vines creep away into dark, clamp 
 woods. 
 
 " That is why our valley has plants of various 
 kinds in its different parts, — here the meadow- 
 grass, there the cranberry ; here the water-cress. 
 there the wild columbine; here the white violet, 
 there the blue ; here the willow, there the oak. 
 
102 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 
 
 Each in its proper place outgrows the rest, yet 
 cannot go beyond the bounds which nature has set 
 in the soil. 
 
 "Every part of our valley helps to make the 
 flowers grow in every other part. The hillsides 
 give their loam to the valley, and their water to 
 its soil and streams. During the clay, vapor rises 
 from the water, and at night forms drops of clew 
 for the thirsty flowers on the hillside whence it 
 came. 
 
 " But if it were not for the fine soil of the valley, 
 the streams would soon run dry after a rainfall. 
 The very loam sent down by the hills holds back 
 the water for days and weeks, giving it to the 
 brooks very slowly. Then as clew, rain or snow, 
 it returns to the slopes, and thus the rich land in 
 the valley repays the gift of the hillsides." 
 
 " But what has the sandy field to do with the 
 life in other parts of our basin ? ' asked Bunny, 
 with a puzzled look. 
 
 " Do you not recall how the hot sand sets the 
 atmosphere in motion, and how the winds supply 
 rain to the slopes?' 1 asked the brooklet. "Then, 
 too, warm air often flows from our tiny ' desert * 
 out over the cool meadow, and gives a breath of 
 summer to its flowers. 
 
 "' Desert,' did I call it? Some say that deserts 
 are dead, — that they support no life. But there 
 are no such places on earth. There are vast fields 
 
PLANT LIFE IN THE VALLEY. 103 
 
 of sand or parched soil where plants cannot grow. 
 But these same heated tracts help to send warmth 
 and moisture to other lands, just as the sandy field 
 does in our valley. 
 
 " They help to cover the earth with life, but do 
 not make gardens of their own at home. Like 
 dingy cow-birds, they lay their eggs in the nests 
 of others. 
 
 " Thus you see that even our sandy field is very 
 useful, and helps to clothe the valley with plants. 
 
 " Then there is our shady grove where the snow 
 slowly melts, and feeds the rills long after the open 
 fields are bare and dry. Beneath its trees, the 
 leafy mould gives off its water even after the 
 meadow loam is empty. 
 
 "And when it rains, only a little more than one- 
 half the drops fall upon the surface beneath its 
 branches. Some are taken into the leaves, and 
 many are carried along the cracks and seams in 
 the bark, down among the roots. 
 
 - Most of the forest rains find their way into 
 the soil, instead of forming surface rills. In this 
 way the streams are fed by springs during long, 
 dry seasons, and do not become rushing torrents 
 after each heavy rainfall. 
 
 " Hillsides and valleys, water and wooded soil, 
 fertile slopes and sandy fields, — all are parts of 
 one beautiful whole, and that is our valley home." 
 
104 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ANIMALS THAT LIVE BY THE BROOKSIDE. 
 
 " If you were a bird, Chip, would you rather 
 have toes like a duck's or a woodpecker's ?" asked 
 the brooklet, with a sly twinkle. 
 
 "Like a woodpecker's, of course, with two sharp 
 toes in front, and two curved back, so that I could 
 cling to the bark of nut-trees." 
 
 " And what kind of bill would you choose, pretty 
 chipmonk ?" 
 
 " I should like to have a duck's; for I could 
 carry nuts and acorns in it." 
 
 " But how would you crack the nuts ? ' bubbled 
 the roguish brook. 
 
 Little Chip was in a trap, but his bead-eyes fairly 
 sparkled, as he chirped, " I should not wish to eat 
 hard nuts if I were a bird. I should swim in the 
 pond, dip my head among the bugs and weeds, and 
 strain all the food I needed in my queer bill," and 
 he perched his little head on one side, as if to say, 
 "Now I am out of your -trap, Master Brooklet." 
 
 "You would not paddle about very fast," laughed 
 the silver waves. " Just look at the duck's broad 
 webs, and then at the woodpecker's slender toes. 
 
ANIMALS THAT LIVE BY THE BROOKSIDE. 105 
 
 AYe fear that you would come from the pond quite 
 hungry." 
 
 " But I could use my sharp toes to climb on the 
 bark of the old apple-tree, where I could dig out 
 bugs and worms, as the woodpeckers do," said 
 Chip. 
 
 " You would have hard work pecking the bark 
 with your blunt duck's bill, my merry friend," re- 
 plied the brook. 
 
 "So I should. If I had a woodpecker's bill, I 
 ought to have every other part of its body. I 
 should need its stiff tail-feathers to brace against 
 the trunks ; its sharp, strong bill to peck the bark ; 
 its long, barbed tongue to drag the worms from 
 their deep hiding-places ; and, above all, its appetite 
 for such food. 
 
 " And if I had a duck's bill, I should need its 
 short, strong legs, its web-feet, and broad, oily 
 body." 
 
 ••' That is just what I wished you to know," 
 
 chuckled the little stream. " It would be a strange 
 
 _ht if cats had hoofs, mice carried long horns, 
 
 horses wore sharp beaks, and dogs used wings 
 
 instead of fore-legs. 
 
 •• But every creature is just fitted to its home 
 and habits of life. Birds and beasts that feed on 
 flesh have sharp, tearing bills, beaks or teeth, and 
 their claws are made keen and strong for holding 
 their prey. Large animals that graze in pastures or 
 
106 BBOOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 
 
 meadows have hoofs that will not easily sink into 
 the soft ground or cling to the thick grass-roots ; 
 and their teeth are formed to grind the grasses 
 which they bite or tear off. 
 
 " There are many queer bills, legs, feet, tongues, 
 noses and teeth, and each has special uses. 
 
 " Only look about you as the seasons pass, and 
 see the strange creatures in our valley: There 
 are humming-birds, with long, slender bills, which 
 they thrust deep into sweet blossoms to draw out 
 nectar and insects ; mosquitoes, with hollow stings, 
 through which they get their food ; ground-moles, 
 with long snouts, which they use as spades ; fire- 
 flies and worms that flash and glow like sparks 
 from the starry workshop of the sky ; blue-herons, 
 with long legs for wading, and necks to match ; 
 spiders that w r eave winding webs for unwary flies ; 
 bright-colored crossbills that peck the seeds from 
 the scales of spruce and pine cones. 
 
 " Then there are animals with different kinds of 
 covering, — turtles, with strong, arching shells ; 
 fish, with thin, horny scales ; birds, with light,, 
 warm feathers ; frogs, with smooth, slippery skin ; 
 sheep, with thick, curling wool ; and squirrels, 
 with soft, sleek furs. 
 
 " How would you like to exchange your fur, 
 Dick, for a coat of turtle-shell ? ' queried the 
 brooklet. 
 
 "Not I!' cried the squirrel, quickly. "How 
 
ANIMALS THAT LIVE BY THE BBOOKSIDE. 107 
 
 could I crawl among the stones, and squeeze 
 through narrow holes ? And how should I keep 
 warm in winter ? ' 
 
 " Perhaps you would like to be covered with 
 scales, pretty Redbreast, like our brook-trout," 
 added the brooklet. 
 
 " 0. no ! for then I could not flv. If there 
 were no feathers on my wings. I should fall to 
 earth. Besides, I should freeze when the cold 
 winds blow, and I could not keep my eggs warm 
 at night. I fear that the hard scales would crush 
 the pretty blue shells. 0, no! I will keep my 
 soft feathers.'' 
 
 ••That is a wise choice. Redbreast; for no other 
 covering in the wide world is so well suited to 
 your cheerful life of flight/' rippled the brook, 
 softly. 
 
 " But why are some birds given such bright- 
 colored plumage, when others wear only dingy 
 colors?' asked Chip. "I have always felt very 
 sorry for the wrens and sparrows who wear dusty 
 brown and gray coats, while the humming-birds 
 look like pretty winged flowers." 
 
 " All around us," began the brooklet. " there is 
 a never-ending struggle for food — for life itself. 
 The pathway of every creature is beset with ene- 
 mies ready to pounce upon and devour it. The 
 timid earthworm crawls from its lonely cave only 
 to make a dainty meal for some sharp-eyed robin. 
 
108 BROOKS AND BBOOK BASINS. 
 
 " Scarcely has the little bundle of sunshine burst 
 from its cocoon into a fluttering butterfly ere a 
 hungry bird swoops down and puts out its faint 
 light, 
 
 "A long time ago, so the story runs, a lamb 
 came to drink at the brookside. So soft and 
 white its coat, it looked as if it had just dropped 
 from the fleecy clouds. 
 
 "A hungry wolf had hidden behind a rock a 
 little higher up the stream. Just as the lamb's 
 pretty pink lips touched the water, the old gray 
 wolf called out : 
 
 " ' How dare you muddle the brook where I am 
 drinking ! ' 
 
 " ' I only touched the tips of my lips/ said the 
 lamb, meekly ; c and how can I muddle the water 
 where you are ? You are higher up the stream 
 than I.' 
 
 "'But you called my father names last year/ 
 snarled the wolf. 
 
 " * That cannot be, for I am not a year old/ 
 replied the lamb. 
 
 " ' You need not make excuses,' growled the 
 wolf ; ' I shall make a meal of you all the same.' 
 
 " So saying, he sprang upon the helpless lamb, 
 and killed it." 
 
 " How cruel ! " cried Dick. 
 
 "Was it cruel?" asked the brooklet. "The 
 wolf was hungry, and killed the lamb for food. 
 
ANIMALS THAT LIVE BY THE BROOKSIDE. 109 
 
 just as men do. But once some boys came here to 
 stone my little singing frogs for fun. They broke 
 their legs and left them to suffer for days and days 
 before they died. Yes, and they shot at my pretty 
 squirrels, and called it ' sport.' 
 
 " Which is more cruel, a wolf that kills a lamb 
 for food, or a boy who shoots a little squirrel for 
 fun ? 
 
 " But I must go back to my story. 
 
 "The large and strong: battle with the small 
 and weak. The hawk is ever turning its sharp 
 eyes downward to spy a meal among the feebler 
 birds or fishes. The stealthy cat crouches behind 
 the tuft of coarse grass, watching for a field-mouse, 
 or even a bright songster, to come within reach of 
 its sharp claws. 
 
 " But every creature has some means of defence 
 or escape. The fly with its many eyes and its 
 wings often saves itself by rapid flight ; the turtle 
 draws itself within its hard shell ; the bee thrusts 
 out its poison sting ; the squirrel darts through 
 the wall or among the branches ; the horse kicks ; 
 the cow tosses ; the dog bites ; and the mouse runs 
 into its slender hole. 
 
 " But in order that their enemies may not find 
 them, and doubtless for many other reasons also, 
 some animals seem to take on the coloring of the 
 places where they live. Thus the wee humming- 
 bird seems to borrow its colors from the flowers 
 
110 BBOOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 
 
 where it sips, and its enemies often pass it by 
 unseen. The sparrows, but for their motion, 
 would look like a part of the ground and bushes 
 on which they live. The brown-and-gray wrens 
 can easily hide in the thickets of the same dusty 
 shade. 
 
 " Color, then, like horns, hoofs, shells, claws 
 and eyes, is a means by which animals often avoid 
 being seen by their enemies. 
 
 " Nature has given to every creature just the 
 structure and covering that will best enable it to 
 live in its native haunts. Its whole body is formed 
 to take and devour its proper food. Its covering 
 prepares it to bear heat or cold, drought or rain, 
 sunshine or darkness, and to live in or on the land, 
 in the air, in the water, or in both air and water. 
 
 " In its home it is able to defend itself against 
 some enemies, although it may fall a prey to 
 others. 
 
 " Animals, like plants, are ever seeking new 
 homes, new places to supply them with food. But 
 as thev roam about, thev find lines in nature 
 which thev cannot cross and live. 
 
 " How interesting to watch the many ways in 
 which the various creatures move from place to 
 place. Now a bird passes far overhead, its sails 
 gently swaying in the air. Yonder is a butterfly, 
 feebly fluttering from flower to flower, or wafted 
 away at the will of the gentlest breeze. 
 
ANIMALS THAT LIVE BY THE BBOOKSIBE. Ill 
 
 "Across the meadow, the pretty leopard-frogs 
 make long leaps, then seem to push their way to 
 the bottom of the pond. Shining fish steady 
 themselves with their tiny paddles, and then dart 
 through the water with lightning speed. The 
 happy squirrels race and chase like dry leaves in 
 an October wind. 
 
 •• Yet swift and strong, as many of these crea- 
 tures are. they cannot live beyond the places that 
 produce their food. The wild-horse must stop at 
 the border of the grass-land. The strong-winded 
 bird must return to the places that feed it. The 
 bee cannot long: remain away from flowers and 
 fruits, unless it has a store of honey. 
 
 " Animals whose food is in the sea cannot 
 wander far from its shores. If the forest fruits 
 alone nourish them, they cannot cross wide grass- 
 lands. Grazing animals will follow the meadows 
 or higher grassy plains, but cannot cross broad, 
 rocky heights or sandy tracts, or pass through 
 vast forests. 
 
 " Thus we find that animals, like plants, choose 
 different parts of our valley for their homes. 
 Squirrels live near the nut-trees and grain-fields : 
 
 ►bits burrow not far from the clover-patches and 
 u dens : caterpillars swarm on the branches whose 
 they like to gnaw ; water-scorpions abound 
 in the pond where they can catch mosquito-wrig- 
 glers and tadpoles ; while near them the larva of 
 
112 BBOOKS AND BBOOK BASINS. 
 
 the dragon-fly feeds ; in short, both plants and 
 animals live only where they can find food. 
 
 " You will see them in the meadows, brooks, 
 trees, on the hilltops, in the ground, and wherever 
 their food grows. Thus it is all over our beautiful 
 earth. 
 
 "Now I see by the shadows that I have only 
 time to tell you about a queer animal that lives 
 in the desert by the river Nile, and then you must 
 scamper to your nesting-places. 
 
 " I shall tell you this story of the camel to show 
 you how an animal may be fitted even for a home 
 in a desert place. 
 
 " This wonderful creature is larger than the horse 
 in our pasture. Its neck and legs are long, and its 
 head quite small. 
 
 " There are pads of hair on its knees and feet, 
 and over its eyes hangs a thick hair veil. On its 
 back there is a large hump, and it has a great 
 pouch in which it can carry water. 
 
 " For clavs and davs, it can travel without bein°; 
 fed or led to drink. The fine sand that blows 
 about would blind Dick or Bunny, but the camel 
 does not fear it. 
 
 " Chip' s little feet would blister and burn on the 
 hot sand, but* this wonderful beast travels during 
 the hottest clays, and even kneels on the burning 
 desert to allow its master to get on and off its 
 back. 
 
ANIMALS THAT LIVE BY THE BROOKSIDE. 113 
 
 " Shall I tell you how it lives in this drear 
 waste ? 
 
 " Its great rounded back is made of fatty flesh, 
 and when it has not been fed for a long time, this 
 homely hump supplies the body with food. When 
 the noble creature is thirsty, its pouch supplies the 
 body with water. 
 
 " The long lashes protect its eyes from the hot 
 sands that blow about ; and the thick pads pre- 
 vent the parched ground from burning its knees 
 and feet. 
 
 "Here again, we see how Nature cares for her 
 children, and fits them to their homes. 
 
 " For miles and miles, the desert stretches away 
 like an ocean ; and as the camel bears heavy car- 
 goes of oil, gums and salt across this sea of sand, 
 it is called the ' Ship of the Desert.' Do you not 
 think that it is an apt name ? 
 
 " Now, my little friends, hie away to your nests 
 to rest for another day." 
 
114 BROOKS AND BROOK BASIXS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE RAINDROPS GO HOME TO OLD OCEAN. 
 
 " To-day we must tell you the last story. 
 When the evening shadows creep into our A^alley, 
 other raindrops will fill the brook-bed, but we shall 
 be home in the sea. 
 
 " • The sea ! the sea ! the open sea ! 
 The blue, the fresh, the ever free ! 
 Without a mark, without a bound, 
 It runneth the earth's wide regions round ; 
 It plays with the clouds ; it mocks the skies, 
 Or like a cradled creature lies.' 
 
 — Barry Cornwall. 
 
 " But watch for us ! We may come again — 
 
 " * While the loom of winter weaves 
 The shroud of flowers and fountains.' 
 
 " We may sift down like apple-blossoms on the 
 hillside, and spread our warm snow-blanket over 
 Bunny's home. 
 
 "You may see us, Dick, hanging from the 
 boughs of your old oak. 
 
 " We may fly away on our light vapor-wings to 
 the sunny south, where Robin will sing his sweet 
 songs all winter. 
 
RAINDROPS GO HOME TO OLD OCEAN. 115 
 
 " Look for us in the early showers, next April. 
 You may find us bubbling from the hillside, — 
 
 " ' When spring comes round again, 
 By greening slope and singing flood/ 
 
 -When the pretty pink earthworms come crawl- 
 ing; from their dark holes, ask them if thev have 
 met the raindrops at work in the cold earth. 
 
 "Speak kindly to each little rill, and cheer it on 
 its way. 
 
 " When the new buds begin to unfold.- and the 
 tender grass-blades shoot from the dark soil, you 
 will know that we are busy, and will soon be with 
 you again. 
 
 "Away in the ocean our tiny brothers mav be 
 waiting for us. We shall have a merry time, and 
 see wonderful sights. Xext vear. if vou are here, 
 we will tell you another story of our travels." 
 
 "Little brook." whispered the wild-flower- 
 " won't you please tell us a story about your home 
 in the sea ? I shall think of you often when you 
 are gone, and shall be so happy when I see your 
 pretty dimpled waves go dancing by again. 0. I 
 hope I may grow in this same spot next summer ! * 
 
 •* So do I. little wild-flower." replied the brook. 
 ••You are always so cheerful that you make every- 
 one near you happy. Yes, I will tell you a true 
 story about a storm at sea. and then I must bid 
 you a long, long farewell." 
 
116 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 
 
 THE STORM AT SEA. 
 
 "It is evening on the ocean. The weary sun 
 has just hidden its face behind a cold gray misty 
 
 veil. 
 
 " ' The twilight is sad and cloudy, 
 The wind blows wild and free, 
 And like the wings of sea-birds 
 Mash the white-caps of the sea.' 
 
 — Longfellow, 
 
 "Now heavy clouds roll up in the east, and 
 spread out over the whole sky. The trembling 
 stars put out their lights and hide behind the dark 
 curtain. 
 
 " The night wind sighs and moans as if in answer 
 to the lonely call of the stray sea-bird, seeking a 
 pathway shoreward through the darkness. 
 
 "Now comes a sound of rushing water. The 
 surface is churned into foam. Great waves spring 
 from the angry sea, and lash themselves in foam- 
 ing fury. 
 
 " Suddenly a tongue of flames flashes through 
 the clouds, and shoots across the sky. The air 
 seems filled with barking, howling monsters, whose 
 voices shake the very depths of old ocean. 
 
 "Rain pours down in torrents. The grand 
 storm at sea has begun ! 
 
 "Flash after flash lights every corner of the 
 heavens. The clouds are torn into shreds. Peal 
 upon peal of jarring thunder rolls out over the 
 water. Then the sky becomes dark again, and the 
 wind settles down with a dreary moan. 
 
BAISDBOPS GO HOME TO OLD OCEAS. 117 
 
 " All ! but you should see old ocean now ! 
 
 " Far as the eye can reach, the phosphorescent 
 sea is filled with pale flame, as if swarms of fire- 
 flies were flashing their tiny lanterns in every 
 wave ! 
 
 •• Flying spray looks like shooting-stars. Shoals 
 of fish dart about like flights of flaming arrows. 
 The breaking waves are fringed with brightest 
 silver on every crest. 
 
 "Now the sky becomes a vast fireplace. Dark 
 clouds hang overhead like thick smoke. Plunging 
 whales are burning logs. Leaping fish are sparks 
 thrown up only to fall back again into the fiery 
 sea. 
 
 " Again and again the lightning flashes through 
 the clouds. Heavy thunder crashes and groans. 
 Rivers of water seem to pour from the broken 
 clouds. Now above, now below. Nature shows her 
 grandest fireworks. 
 
 " At length the storm goes by. The dark clouds 
 are drawn aside, and beautiful stars look down 
 once more. 
 
 " But for a long time the water rises and falls 
 as if panting from its long struggle with the fierce 
 gale. 
 
 *• Then the weary raindrops lie down in the 
 cradle of the sea. and the great waves rock us to 
 sleep." 
 
118 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 
 
 As the brooklet ended its story, its pretty ripples 
 broke for the last time over the rounded pebbles, 
 with a low sad murmur, as if to bid farewell to its 
 little friends. 
 
 They followed along the banks, and saw it glide 
 into the waiting ocean. They watched its silver 
 ripples join the dark-blue of the sea. The rain- 
 drops were home at last. 
 
 Sadly and silently the little band moved along 
 the lonely valley where other raindrops filled the 
 brook-bed. 
 
 They greeted the gentle wild-flower, but lo ! its 
 petals had fallen, and its weary head had drooped 
 for the long winter sleep. 
 
 Then the robin turned to its pretty friends, and 
 softly chirped, " I, too, must leave our lovely 
 valley where we have spent so many happy days 
 together. To-morrow's sun will light me many 
 miles on my journey towards the bright and sunny 
 south-land. 
 
 " Think not that I shall forget you, or the pleas- 
 ant times we have had together. 0, how closely 
 will I watch the changing seasons. 
 
 " The April clouds shall not fly faster than I to 
 meet you here when spring returns, but, till then, 
 a long farewell." 
 
 No word was spoken as Bunny, Dick and Chip 
 turned with moist eyes to watch their parting 
 friend fade away in the gathering shadows. 
 
RAINDROPS GO HOME TO OLD OCEAN. 119 
 
 But listen ! what word of cheer is this ? 
 A happy voice comes floating in on the evening 
 breeze — 
 
 " The brooklet came from the mountain, 
 As sang the bard of old, 
 Running with feet of silver, 
 Over the sands of gold. 
 
 " Far away in the briny ocean, 
 
 There*rolled a turbulent wave, 
 Now singing along the sea-beach, 
 Xow howling along the cave. 
 
 " And the brooklet has found the billow, 
 
 Though they flowed so far apart, 
 
 And has filled with its freshness and sweetness, 
 
 That turbulent, bitter heart." 
 
 — Longfellow. 
 
A BOOK FOR PROGRESSIVE TEACHERS. 
 
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 A System and Method of Teaching Geography- 
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 RAISED MAPS OF THE CONTINENTS 
 
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 LARGE REFERENCE RELIEF MAPS. 
 
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 SMALL MODEL MAPS OF THE CONTINENTS. 
 
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