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green feet of its slippery stones,'and the little Naiad weepa her impoverished urn.
7. Following the stream lower down, we come to a more sheltered and fertile region of the mountain, where pool succeeds pool, clear and deep, in which you can see the fishes lying motionless, or darting away like arrows when your foot shakes the bank or your shadow falls upon the water.
8. There is now a wide level margin of grass on either side, as smooth as a shaven lawn; and meandering through it, little tributary rills trickle into the stream, their marshy channels edged with rare Alpine rushes, and filled with great spongy cushions of red and green mosses, enlivened by the white blossoms of the starry saxifrage.
9. Another variety of this flower grows everywhere around in large beds richly covered with yellow flowers, dotted with spots of a deeper orange. This lovely species descends to a lower altitude than any of its congeners, and may be called the golden fringe of the richly embroidered floral mantle with which Nature covers the nakedness of the higher hills. It blooms luxuriantly among a whole host of moorland plants, sufficient to engage the untiring interest of the botanist throughout the long summer day.
10. The curious sundew, a vegetable spider, lies in wait among the red elevated moss tufts, to catch the little black flies in the deadly embrace of its viscid leaves; the bog asphodel stands near, with its sword-shaped leaves and golden helmet, like a sentinel guarding the spot; the grass of Parnassus covers the moist greensward with the bright sparkling of its autumn snow; while the cotton-grass waves on every side its downy plumes in the faintest breeze.
11. Down from this flowery region the stream flows with augmented volume, bickering over the shingle with a gay, poppling sound, and leaving creamy wreaths of winking foam between the moss-grown stones that protrude from its bed. It laves the roots of the crimson heather and the palmy leaves of the lady-fern.
12. The sunbeams gleam upon its open face <£/ with "messages from the ;£fc heavens;" the rainbow arches its waterfalls; f% the panting lamb comes" to cool its parched tongue in its limpid waters; the" lean blue heron, wit> head and bill sunk on its breast, stands =§ motionless in its i shallows watching for minnows all the long dull afternoon, while the dusky ousel flits from stone to stone in all the fearless play of its happy life.
13. Hurrying swiftly through the brown, heathy wastes that clothe the lower slopes, it lingers a while where the trembling aspen and the twinkling birch and the rugged
alder weave their leafy canopy over it, freckling its bustling
waves with ever-varying scintillations of light and shade;
pauses to water the crofter's meadow and cornfield, and to
supply the wants of a cluster of rude moss-grown huts on
its banks, which look as if they had grown naturally ou/
of the soil; and then, through a beach of snow-white
pebbles, it mingles its fretting waters in the blue profound
peace of the loch.
14. Such is the bright and varied course of the Alpine
stream, with its floral fringe; and from its fountain to its
fall it is one continuous, many-linked chain of beauty—an
epic of Nature, full of the richest images and the most
Rev. Hugh Mcmillan.
LXXVIL—THE OLD CLOCK.
SOMEWHAT back from the village street
Halfway up the stairs it stands,
And points and beckons with its hands
From its case of massive oak,
Like a monk, who, under his cloak,
Crosses himself, and sighs, alas!
With sorrowful voice to all who pass:
By clay its voice is low and light;
Through days of sorrow and of mirth,
In that mansion used to be
There groups of merry children played;
From that chamber, clothed in white,
Never here, forever there,
H. W. Longfellow.
LXXVIIL—BEAUTIFUL SIGHTS AT SEA.
IT! '1HE most beautiful thing I have seen at sea—all tho 1 more so that I had never heard of it—is the trail of a shoal of fish through the phosphorescent water. It is like a flight of silver rockets, or the streaming of northern lights through that silent nether heaven. I thought nothing could go beyond that rustling star-foam which was churned up by our ship's bows, or those eddies and disks of dreamy flame that rose and wandered out of sight behind us.