Broad is the road that leads to death,
And thousands walk together there;
But Wisdom shows a narrow path,
With here and there a traveler.



THE EDGEWOOD "DRIVE"

Just where the bridge knits together the two little villages of
Pleasant River and Edgewood, the glassy mirror of the Saco
broadens suddenly, sweeping over the dam in a luminous torrent.
Gushes of pure amber mark the middle of the dam, with crystal and
silver at the sides, and from the seething vortex beneath the
golden cascade the white spray dashes up in fountains. In the
crevices and hollows of the rocks the mad water churns itself
into snowy froth, while the foam-decked torrent, deep, strong,
and troubled to its heart, sweeps majestically under the bridge,
then dashes between wooded shores piled high with steep masses of
rock, or torn and riven by great gorges.

There had been much rain during the summer, and the Saco was very
high, so on the third day of the Edgewood drive there was
considerable excitement at the bridge, and a goodly audience of
villagers from both sides of the river. There were some who
never came, some who had no fancy for the sight, some to whom it
was an old story, some who were too busy, but there were many to
whom- it was the event of events, a never-ending source of
interest.