I could gin him an indignant response, he
stuck his fingers in his ears and sot there grinnin' like a jimpanzee
all the time I wuz speakin' out my mind. But to resoom.

Anon a bridge would rise up its fairy arch and connect two islands
together, each one holdin' a mansion that looked like a palace, and
the bright awnin's of the winders, the pillars and pinnacles, and gay
colors, reflected in the water makin' fairy palaces below as well as
above, and made the hull seen as we journeyed on one of enchantment,
that would made the grand Vizier of Bagdad turn green with envy. And
every palace, mansion, and cottage had its pretty boat-house, with the
water layin' there smooth and invitin' waitin' for the boats to be
lanched on its bosom, actin' for all the world like a first class
family stream, warranted to carry safe and not kick and act in the
harness. And then mebby the very next minute it would swell itself out
agin, and be twenty or thirty milds acrost, rushin', hurryin', and
dashin' itself along, hastenin' to the sea.

Actin' as if it had sunthin' dretful pressin' and important to tell
it, and mebby it had. Who knows the language of the liquid waves as
they whisper to each other on sunny beaches and at the meetin' of
placid waters, makin' love to each other like as not--one tellin' the
other of the sweet cow-slip and ferny medders it had to leave at the
loud call of its love, the River. The River murmuring back deep words
of worship and gratitude at the feet of its newly arrived love.

And then mebby the comin' rivulet complains, moanin' kinder low and
sorrowful, as it swashes up on sharp stuny beaches, for what it left
behind. Meadows and orchards full of May's rosy blossoms, low grassy
shores fringed with flowers and fresh, shinin' grasses. And white,
dimpled baby feet mebby that waded out in its cool shallows. Pretty
faces that bent over its sheltered pools, as in a lookin' glass,
wavin' locks that scattered gold light down into the water, bright
eyes that shone like stars above it. I shouldn't wonder a mite if it
missed 'em and tried to say so in its gentle, pensive swish, swash,
swish.

And then mebby the River resented it and kinder roared at it; mebby
that is what it is sayin' in its louder and more voylent tones,
upbraidin' it for lookin' back to its more single and lonesome career,
when it now has _Him!_ _Him!_ Rush! Roar! Crush! Roar! Roar!

We can't tell what the river is talkin' about, in its calm gentl