The woods and by-ways of New England . seldom in this direction, save when it is lost in awood or a fen, will it disappoint his pursuit. Its intri-cacies are a source of constant amusement, and its mo-mentary disappearances serve but to awaken our moving with the stream, it can never entirely eludeour observation. But if we turn the opposite way, andtry to discover its source, we soon become involved inthe perplexity of the metaphysician when he endeavorsto unravel the mystery of final causes. But there is a peculiar excitement attending a searchfor the original source of the st
The woods and by-ways of New England . seldom in this direction, save when it is lost in awood or a fen, will it disappoint his pursuit. Its intri-cacies are a source of constant amusement, and its mo-mentary disappearances serve but to awaken our moving with the stream, it can never entirely eludeour observation. But if we turn the opposite way, andtry to discover its source, we soon become involved inthe perplexity of the metaphysician when he endeavorsto unravel the mystery of final causes. But there is a peculiar excitement attending a searchfor the original source of the stream, that has oftentempted us to seek for it. We imagine it is someshady nook or dripping dell, in which the ferns andmosses have their paradise; and that, if we could butgain this spot, we should view the sacred urn of theNaiad, and observe how she distils its waters from thedews of heaven and the dappled clouds of morning. Wewander through glens and thickets and over plains andvalleys, pausing only to note the flowers of every hue. THE TROTTT-STKEAM. 333 that mark its devious course by their greater profusion,and the birds of various plume that come to dabble inits waters. All the minor beauties of nature attend itscourse, and seem like an enchanted procession followingits sparkling light. Hope awakens with every new ac-cession of beauty, and as the stream ripples over the un-even surface, we are led on by its delusive melody tomore earnest pursuit. The waters soon divide, and, whilewe are lured by the most apparent flow, they divide again,and reveal their course only by an occasional feet soon become embedded in mosses and aquaticplants, and we see before us steep declivities covered withspleen worts and enamelled with flowers. The verdure andthe glow, the beauty and the magnificence of foliage andvinery and flowers and evergreens clustering at our feetand depending from the trees and cliffs, seem to assure usthat we are near the birthplace of the stream. But it
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Keywords: ., bookauthorflaggwil, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, bookyear1872
