Brooks and brook basins

Front matter

Brooks and

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Chapter I. The Raindrops Set Out Ox Their Journey

" 0 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, —

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 surface 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 raindrops, 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 sunbeams to our raindrop band.

" 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.

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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 showered 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 graceful 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 sunbeams fled away in' fright. Then, folding our little vapor-wings, we became drops of water, and began to patter down on the steep hillsides.

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 sunbeams 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 chipmonk 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 scrambled 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? 0? he is a merrv fellow, brig-lit and full of life. Sometimes 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.'

"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 carried 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 diamond 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 singing —

" 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.

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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 rainbows 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.

" 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 squirrels 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 : " 0 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.

''Did all the raindrops sink into the dark soil?" asked Chip, as soon as they were ready for the story.

" 0 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 teardrops, and we thought the pretty pebbles must be weeping at the sad story. But the brooklet chattered 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.

"'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.

"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.

" 0 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 follow these tiny streams both ways. I will go to the right, and you to the left. Then we will return to the brookside, and tell what we have seen."

#JA, M. JA. J*. J*. JL

"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?"

" 0 yes, tell us your story. We have been waiting 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 wrhere 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.

"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.