an ever before; the rain came down faster and
heavier, and beat into her bosom, until her tiny waves were rough and
sore with pain, and she was fain to nestle closer to the sedgy grass
that now bent lowly to the pebbles at the roots. Growing higher every
minute was the Brooklet; and frightened somewhat, and longing for the
sunlight, or the laborer, and for the lovely daughter's face to cheer
her up, she looked off over a track of country wider and greener than
she had ever seen before. And so the Brooklet, all frightened as she
was, said to herself, "I'll run along a bit into this country spot, so
wide and green, and maybe I shall find the sunlight and the lovely
face."

Faster came the rain; and so the Brooklet, leaping wildly over a rock
whose top until then her eyes had never seen, went flowing on upon this
country spot, so wide and green. The new sights coming in view at every
bound quite made the Brooklet forget her terrors from the beating rain;
she was pained no longer by the heavy drops, but soothed herself among
the velvet grass; and turned between little flowers scarcely above the
ground, and which, as she passed them, seemed to be as frightened by the
wind and rain as herself had been before the meadow was left behind.

The Brooklet had thus run on until she saw the country spot so wide and
green was well passed over, and trees and bushes, darker and thicker
than she had ever known before, were close at hand. And while she
thought of stopping in her way and going back, she heard not far before
an echo of a sound most like unto her own; and so kept on to find it
out. Clearer and louder increased the sound, as now through mouldy
leaves and dark thickets, and under decayed logs and insect-burrowed
moss, she kept a course, until presently, over a fallen tree, she saw a
Brooklet, larger, wider, and evidently much older than herself, which,
on her near approach, ran by the fallen tree's side, and said, "Good
morning, sister: what is so delicate a being, as you seem to be, doing
in this dark forest?"

The wanderer Brooklet became silent with wonder. She had never been
addressed before, though often trying to talk with the laborer, and to
the lovely face of her meadow acquaintance, without the slightest notice
upon their part of the overtures.

"Good morning, sister, I say," was repeated over the fallen tree. "Where
are you going at so slow a pace? Come over, and let us talk a bit."

"I cannot, for I am terribly