restocking it. Under one of the banks close by lived a fat frog
for whom I felt great respect. We used to sit and gaze at each
other in silent intercourse, until he became bored--I think I never
did--and flopped into the water with a splash.

But it was the brook itself that was my chief and dearest
companion. It chattered and sang to me, and told me of the goblins
who lived under the hill, of fairies dancing on the grass on
moonlight nights, and scolding the pale lilac milk-maids on the
banks; and of a sad little old man dressed in brown, always sad
because his dear water-children ran away from him when they heard
the voice of the great river telling them of the calling of the
sea.

It spoke to me of other more wonderful things, not even now to be
put into words, things of the mysteries of a child's imagination;
and these linger still in my life, and will linger, I think, until
they are fulfilled.

* * * * *

I have another friend--a Devonshire stream. I found it in spring
when the fields along its banks were golden with Lent-lilies. I do
not even know its name; it has its source up among the old grey
tors, and doubtless in its beginning had a hard fight for
existence. When it reaches the plain it is a good-sized stream,
although nowhere navigable. I do not think it even turns a mill;
it just flows along and waters the flowers. I have seen it with my
bodily eyes only once; but it has left in my life a blessing, a
picture of blue sky, yellow bells, and clear rippling water--and