" After passing Moore's Falls by
means of locks, we again had recourse to our oars, and went
merrily on our way, driving the small sandpiper from rock to rock
before us, and sometimes rowing near enough to a cottage on the
bank, though they were few and far between, to see the sunflowers,
and the seed vessels of the poppy, like small goblets filled with
the water of Lethe, before the door, but without disturbing the
sluggish household behind. Thus we held on, sailing or dipping
our way along with the paddle up this broad river, smooth and
placid, flowing over concealed rocks, where we could see the
pickerel lying low in the transparent water, eager to double some
distant cape, to make some great bend as in the life of man, and
see what new perspective would open; looking far into a new
country, broad and serene, the cottages of settlers seen afar for
the first time, yet with the moss of a century on their roofs,
and the third or fourth generation in their shadows. Strange was
it to consider how the sun and the summer, the buds of spring and
the seared leaves of autumn, were related to these cabins along
the shore; how all the rays which paint the landscape radiate
from them, and the flight of the crow and the gyrations of the
hawk have reference to their roofs.
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