-

The Winter Stream



Somehow The River never terrified me.

(It did mother, however!)

Perhaps it brought no fear to me because it flowed so gently and so
helpfully through such a wonderful valley of Peace and Plenty. Even in
its austere winter aspect, with its tree-banks bare of leaves and its
snow-and-ice-bound setting, it rejoiced me.

Teams of big horses and wagons and scores of men, worked busily upon its
frozen surface, sawing and cutting and packing ice in the big wooden
houses along the banks.

Always there was enough wind for an ice-boat or a skate-sail, or to send
a fellow swiftly along when mother-made promises were forgotten and an
unbuttoned coat was held outstretched to catch the breeze.

At night the torches and bonfires flickered and glowed where the skaters
sent the merry noises of their revelry afloat through the crisp air as
they dodged steel-footed in and out among the huts of the winter
fishermen.

Perhaps I loved the winter river because I knew that beneath its