. Down the eastern and up the Black . n the fish that sought the sunbath in the shallow water. One day the wind was blowing and some shingles fell downfrom its top. A little later came a gust of rain, and pouringthrough the hole, ripped oflf a broken plank ; and not long after-wards a great stone tumbled in the stream, but no one cared, theysaid the road had been vacated, and the bridge was useless. Tishard to see a bridge decay. Ive seen both, but far more menthan bridges. One evening late in April, when the stream washigh, I heard a man say, as he shook the water off his hat,twi
. Down the eastern and up the Black . n the fish that sought the sunbath in the shallow water. One day the wind was blowing and some shingles fell downfrom its top. A little later came a gust of rain, and pouringthrough the hole, ripped oflf a broken plank ; and not long after-wards a great stone tumbled in the stream, but no one cared, theysaid the road had been vacated, and the bridge was useless. Tishard to see a bridge decay. Ive seen both, but far more menthan bridges. One evening late in April, when the stream washigh, I heard a man say, as he shook the water off his hat,twill be a hard night for the wooden bridge. The rain keptfalling on till midnight, then it ceased, and through the dull andheavy mist I saw the moon peep out behind an ugly cloud. Isaw the flood of rising waters. They err who call this streamthe gentle, slowly moving Brandywine. Could they but see itin an angry mood theyd soon revise their terms. I saw, andshook with fear. It seemed as if the tide must reach the key- [ 3° o >< xn 5^ &.JQ. stone of my arch, then I heard a groan like trees make when theyfall against each other in the forest, followed by a loud hurrahof boisterous waters. I looked again, and saw what seemed a massof moving blackness that rose and sunk alternately. Bracingmyself, I waited in the darkness—till its timbers struck me andI knew no more till morning, when I heard the milkman say,the bridge went down last night. Do I remember Robert Brooke—the young surveyor who,when this road was finished, made a book of surveys ? It seemsbut yesterday he sat beneath a tree that leaned like yonderbuttonwood across the stream, and laid his instruments aside andsketched me. A pretty bridge, he said, and I felt scarcelyflattered by his compliment, for I was young and did look well;a gentle rain the day before had washed off every stain and traceof dust, but then Id heard the self same words so often—everytime the Wagoners drove their heavy teams across me. Acros
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